#hell bent for leather in particular

[eddie-rifff]

ive had a couple people over the past few years ive been into ph/vdgg ask me how to get into them and there just isnt a good answer honestly because theyre so different from yes/ genesis/ elp/ other major prog bands, there's nothing that will prepare you for them. like even if i said listen to refugees to get warmed up they dont do a ton of stuff like that you know.

but whats good about them is that they ARE so different, thats why i love them, there is no good comparison. maybe early king crimson gets close but there is no other vocalist like peter hammill besides like. rob halford and even then hes pretty different, he just has some of the same tricks (the growls, the screams, the shrieks etc)

if you want to get into vdgg, i would say be prepared to get progged hard (that was essentially the warning mrs hammill (alison) gave me when i started listening to them lol) and be prepared for something you've never really heard before. darkness 11/11 was the first vdgg song i fell in love with and i think thats as good of a starting place as any, because it has almost everything you'd want from a vdgg song imo, then maybe lighthouse keepers because it really has EVERY element of a good vdgg song all in one. i know killer is a fan favorite but its so mild imo, its a one-off as far as im concerned.

also, WAY too few people appreciate boleas panic. it might be one of my favorite prog instrumentals ever, its such a sexy song. listen to boleas panic if you have not already, especially if you already listen to vdgg, there is nothing stopping u.

anwyay . why am i talking about this

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Together Bound In Madness

Summary: There's a reason you were told not to walk alone at night....

A/N: Hi Babes! Me again :D So uhh....this particular piece of work wasn't meant to see the light of day and live its life in my WIP folder...it was supposed to....

Then I mentioned to @ken-dom that I might share and well...here we are...what can I say y'all? She's mad encouraging and I love her dearly for it. Without her none of these would exist.

As always, this NSFW 18+ and has a few extra warnings attached; a kidnapping trigger warning being the biggest one, but others will follow.

The title comes from the Marianas Trench song The Killing Kind

Y'all should know by now I rarely post one shots.....so yeah, this will be multiple parts....I'm just not sure on the final tally yet.

Enjoy my loves! <3 

You pulled your jacket on after finally clocking out for the night. An hour later than you anticipated. 

Saying your goodbyes to your coworkers you let yourself out the front door walking up the street towards home. 

The wind blew the strands of hair that had fallen out over the course of the night around your face as you pulled your jacket more snugly around your middle.  

Your boots clicked on the pavement as you walked up the sidewalk, music changing songs before playing loudly through your headphones. 

It was quiet given the hour, which you didn't mind much, it gave you an opportunity to breathe and-

Suddenly an arm wrapped around your midsection, and a large hand closed over your mouth. 

Your heart slammed in your chest as you were pulled into the alley immediately to your left, music fading away as you pulled your headphones from your ears; the smell of conditioned leather overwhelming your senses before everything went black. 

You opened your eyes and everything was dark. Dark and cramped, and you had a splitting headache. Your knees were bent, elbows hitting obstructions on either side, your hands were bound and you realized you were moving. Your mind was racing trying to piece the events together, the last thing you remembered was walking home from work. You breathed hard through your nose, a thick piece of duct tape covering your mouth. Your heart was racing in your chest. 

Your phone, where was your phone? Your jacket didn't have pockets, and neither did your skirt; you had kept it tucked in your bra over the course of your shift, it was gone. 

You closed your eyes trying to focus on what to do next. Mouth was covered, screaming was out, your hands were bound behind your back, hard plastic zip ties biting into the tender flesh of your wrists, you could feel the same bite around your ankles, and your boots were gone. 

Another heavy breath out your nose as you felt the car roll to a stop. You closed your eyes, pretending to still be unconscious; potentially giving yourself time to think of a plan. 

You listened intently, boots crunching on gravel as they came around the back of the car. You let out a slow shaky breath trying to keep your wits about you. You couldn’t even begin to guess where you were, running was out of the question, they had made sure of that. What you assumed was streetlight flooded the trunk as it was lifted open, your eyes were closed, but you were certain your racing heart was going to give you away. You tried your best not to go absolutely rigid as you felt an arm slide under your knees, the other around your shoulders as you were lifted out. 

You had to open your eyes, you needed to figure out where you were if you had any chance in hell at getting away. 

Opting to crack your eyes open and not give yourself completely away you hoped against all hope whoever had you in their arms was more focused on getting you from point A to point B without being noticed, you weren’t exactly in an inconspicuous position. 

You fought to keep your breathing even and not give yourself away when you realized where you were, you recognized the small walkway immediately. You were home. 

What the fuck? 

Your mind raced with a whole new string of thoughts; this was your apartment complex, you hadn’t hallucinated, you lived here. You didn’t dare move, instead, you waited, the man carrying you was quiet, his breathing was unbelievably steady for carrying a bound, gagged, unconscious woman through a public space. 

You heard the familiar beep of the main door granting him access to the rest of the building. Did he live here? Or had he simply stolen your keys? Were you about to be held captive in your own apartment?! 

They hadn’t sounded like your keys…. They had a very distinct clink with the ring you had kept on them. Another familiar ding, this one was the elevator, this was your chance, the elevator had a mirror on the back wall. 

The doors opened and again, you cracked your eyes open as much as you dared. If it had been able to, your jaw would have hit the floor, you fought back the gasp that threatened to escape against the tape over your mouth. It was your neighbour. 

The slight panic that surged through your body at seeing a recognizable face made you slightly dizzy. The neighbour?! Who’s name you just couldn’t fucking place. Fuck. That’s what you get for thinking he was unassuming

He had hardly said a dozen words to you; ever; no wonder….you lived next door to a fucking Jeffery Dahmer wannabe. What the hell was he going to say ‘Hi, hope you like being chopped up into tiny little pieces and never found, because that’s my plan’?! 

You could get out of this, you could, but how? 

Again the doors pinged before sliding open and you bit down hard on the inside of your bottom lip. Your apartment door was feet away; and yet…

The one time that nosy Mrs. Collins wasn’t lurking outside…god damn it. 

He was skinny though; maybe you could overthrow him somehow…He definitely didn’t have brute strength on his side; at least you didn’t think so.

He carried you inside, and you heard the familiar click of the door closing behind him…but he didn't lock it. His confidence was unmatched. 

[miscfandomwrites]

Pairing: Wanda maximoff x reader

Warnings: Smut

Words: 1621

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~~~

After standing in the middle of the room for awhile, I decided to head to the shower clean up a bit. It was hot at hell in my room, so I made sure to flip on the fan. 

Not caring to even get clothes, I shedded them and jumped into the shower. After awhile of humming and trying not to get soap in my eyes, I got out.

Wrapped in nothing but a towel, I started going through my clothes. I wanted something nice to wear tonight. It’s been awhile since I’ve been with someone, and I wanted to put some effort into it. 

After decided on a lace set of lingerie, I checked my phone. 

There was a series of photos, both of her in and out of clothes. 

Fuck. 

She was still texting them, and I decided to send one back, which got me a long line of compliments along with ‘I can’t wait to take that off of you.’ from her, making me blush and sending more heat straight to my core. 

I put on a tshirt and a pair of shorts and started to pick up my room. Suddenly my phone pinged again, with another text that read ‘I’m in a meeting, but when I’m out you’d better be on my floor or there will be punishment.’

Holy fuck. 

Then another: “My tongue would do a better job teasing you then my words can” 

Was it just me or was the room suddenly getting really hot?

“FRIDAY what time does Wanda get out of the meeting?” I asked.

“Five minutes, according to Mr. Stark” it replied back to me. 

As much as I’d love to be punished by her, I was wanting to be nice for once. 

And five minutes! 

I grabbed my phone and sprinted to the elevator, calling it. The doors opened and I saw her, Sam, and Bucky. 

Well shit. 

I smiled and got in. 

“Any floor in particular?” asked Sam. 

I smirked. “None, just here for the conversation.” I replied back. 

I leaned against the back next to Wanda, and she leaned over and whispered in my ear. 

“You’re in trouble.” 

I was blushing again, but I kept calm and decided to think about the next mission we were on. 

Sam and Bucky kept looking at us, whispering. I noticed that Wanda had changed into her leather jacket with a black t-shirt, jeans and boots. She also still definitely had marks on her neck. 

“You two….ah,.....are together?” Asked Sam, looking at the two of us.

I looked to Wanda, who smiled and grabbed the back of my neck, pulling me in for a heated kiss. 

“I guess that answers that.” Bucky said. The elevator stopped and the boys got off, and Wanda broke the kiss, telling FRIDAY to take us up to her room.

“You’re in for a hell of a night” she said as she smirked at me. 

“I hope so.” I replied, smiling back at her. 

She pulled me closer by my hips, and I bared my neck to her. She started with small kisses behind my earlobe, and then traveled to where my neck met my shoulder. She nipped the skin there, soothing it over with her tongue before doing that to my shoulder as she moved my shirt away. 

The elevator stopped and we got off, and she grabbed my hand and tugged me to the bedroom. 

She pushed me onto the bed, straddling me. She grabbed my face and gently held it in her hands, kissing me softly. I was sure I was melting, not grabbing her hips and pushing her more into me. 

She got up off of me and stood at the foot of the bed. 

Strip. A command sent to me mentally, which I took my time with. Carefully slipping my shirt off, showing off my (favorite color) lace lingerie. I bent over, showing her my ass as I slowly took my shorts off. After finishing my little show, she nodded towards the bed.

I layed on it, holding my torso up with my elbows as I watched her strip into a simple set of undergarments that I knew I wanted on the floor. She crawled up to me, smirking. She kissed me again, taking my bottom lip between her teeth and tugged on it. I opened my mouth to her and tilted my head. With one hand supporting her, she used the other to skin along the fabric on my chest, running her fingers over my nipples. 

She started kissing my jaw, then my chest. She looked up to me and smiled “You look really pretty.” she spoke softly between kisses. I smiled back and her, a soft ‘thank you’ coming out as I leaned back. I loosely put my hand in her hair. 

She unhooked the lace portion from the bottom and behind my back, groaning at the sight of my chest. She tossed the top somewhere in the room. A warm, wet feeling that I knew was her mouth covered my left breast; she sucked on it as she rubbed the other between her fingers. I whimpered, moving my hips to try and get some friction between them. She chuckled as she switched over to my right, doing the same thing. 

This felt amazing. She moved one of her thighs, pressing it between mine. She kissed down my chest and stomach, stopping at the hem of the underwear long enough to pull them off. 

After tossing those aside, she kissed and nipped at my thighs leaving little red marks. She kissed the top of my mound before licking a long strip. 

“Fuck!” I hissed as she repeated it. She took her time, sucking my lips into her mouth before licking back up, finding my clit. 

“Damn, I made you this wet?” she asked me. I lifted my torso up, meeting her eyes. I didn’t need to see her mouth to know she was smiling. She moved her hands over my hips, rubbing them as she sent me a wink.

She flicked my clit with her tounge, my breath hitching as I fell back on the bed. She did this a total of eight more times, in between kissing and nipping my thighs. She took my clit in her mouth, gently sucking on it as I bucked my hips. I could feel my essence coating my thighs, and I wanted more. 

She traced the entrance of my hole with her finger, not yet entering. 

“Please!” I whimpered. She then entered it, soon joining it with a second. She sucked on my clit and her fingers curled, causing me to scream as I came. After licking off my entrance and fingers, she got up. 

She walked over to the side of the bed, where I watched her pull out a strap and a dildo that I knew would definitely leave me feeling it tomorrow. 

I was still trying to catch my breath after my first orgasm, and I watched her stab it on herself. She looked over at me, smirking. 

Think you can take all of it? She mentally asked me. I wasn’t sure, but I sure as hell would try. I nodded, closing my eyes. 

She was between my legs, and she reached and gently took my face in her hands. I swear, this was the softest thing about her. She kissed me gently, lining up the toy to my entrance. She broke the kiss, kissing my neck as she started to push in. Little by little, spurred on by my moans and whimpers, she kept pushing in. She marked my neck and chest until she was in to the hilt. I was surprised at this, I didn’t know I could take that much. 

A small groan came from her and she got back up. One of her hands ran over my chest and stomach. 

“Good girl. Taking this all in.” She told me. I whimpered. 

She carefully rocked out, before pushing in again. She repeat it, keeping a hand on my stomach and the other on my hip. 

“Fuck, please Wanda…...harder.” I told her, groaning at the full feeling. She nodded, moving faster and harder causing me to moan louder. 

The hand on my hip moved to my clit, rubbing circles. My thighs started to shake and I gripped the bedsheets and I felt it starting to hit my g-spot. 

I was starting to peak, I could feel the tightness spooling in my core. Suddenly it snapped, causing me to scream her name as I came around the toy, 

She kept thrusting through my organsum, the overstimulation causing me to cum again shortly after again. 

She pulled out, moaning at the sight my cum dripping from the toy and me. 

She pulled the strap off, taking it to the bathroom to clean it off. As I tried to catch my breath, she came back with a warm wash cloth, wiping me gently with it. 

I smiled. “Do you do this with all your lays?” I asked. 

She smiled back at me. “Only with the ones I really like.” she replied. I chucked, happy that she remembered what I’d said earlier.

I got up and shakely started to pull my clothes on, until her hand grabbed my arm. 

She looked at me. “Stay with me? Please?” She gently asked. I nodded and got back into the bed with her, pulling up the blankets around us. She tugged me closer to her, wrapping an arm around my waist. I kissed her softly and smiled. “That was fun.” I said. She laughed, squeezing me into her harder. She kissed my forehead before replying. 

“We can have more fun than that.”

[thecampjuicebox]

I was wondering if you could do one with Tav/Astarion where they’re in an argument because Astarion gets nervous about Tav putting themselves in danger because he wants to protect them (maybe set post defeating Cazador). And in the heat of the moment he accidentally shouts something like “why won’t you just let me help you Sebastian”.

And Tav gets sad and runs off thinking that Astarion only wants to be with them to alleviate the guilt of what he did to Sebastian or sees them as a replacement/second best. Maybe with some sweet fluffy smut at the end?

Thank youuuuu 🫶🏼

Oh my GODS this is incredible. EEEEEE I’m so excited!!! I'm so sorry this took so long. I chewed on this one for quite some time ahaha

Protector

Pairing: Astarion x Tav(f)

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI

POV: 2nd person

Warnings: angst, fluff, couple arguing, injury, trauma, small amount of smut, piv sex, GAME SPOILERS

Shadowheart's careful hands hover over the gaping wound in your thigh, the sizzle of magic making your hair stand up on end. A quiet hiss leaves your pressed together lips.

"Gods, that hurts.."

"I know, Tav. I'm sorry. Please stay still.."

A heavy sigh rattles Astarion's ribcage and he crosses his arms tightly over his chest. The obvious disdain in his breath makes you squirm in your seat. Astarion is incredibly protective over you, often throwing himself in front of you in the face of danger. Even the most miniscule threats throw him into a frenzy. You find it endearing, mostly. This time is no different, the vampire pacing nervously back and forth outside of your small tent, his hands fumbling with one another to quiet his racing brain. This time he failed to protect you, a quick swing of Cazador's dagger bringing you to your knees. The vivid memory of the battle still shakes you to your core. The death. The decay. Cazador. The amount of blood that gushed from your leathers was startling to the entire party. Watching Astarion lose himself in the kill, his master lying lifeless on the marble as he drove the dagger through his chest more times than you could remember to count. The way the blood spewed and sprayed around you. It was nauseating.

You squeeze your eyes closed tightly, tears threatening the corners of your lids. Astarion's panic riddled voice still rings in your pointed ears. The way he screamed for someone, anyone, to help you. His quiet begging made your heart ache worse than the wound in your thigh. The final picture from that moment was the way he cradled you, the tears that stained his soft pale cheeks, his deep red eyes holding onto your fading gaze. Then you blacked out. Fell into the dark veil of unconsciousness in his arms. When you awakened, you were in your tent, Shadowheart bent over your body, cleaning and prodding the deep cut. Consciousness rushed back to you and nearly knocked the wind out of you.

A certain picture lingers in the back of your mind. Upon discovering the secret crypt that Cazador had hidden under his castle, your party stumbled across multiple spawn. All unrecognizable to you, but not entirely so to your spawn companion. The way Astarion's eyes softened at one spawn in particular made your belly ache, made a jealous heat rush over your spine and into your skull, burning in your eyes and throat. Sebastian. One of Astarion's first. The name tastes like bile on your tongue. Stings like acid. You love Astarion, no doubt, and the idea of all of his previous lovers ending up as spawn certainly made your skin crawl in the beginning. You'd learned to trust the vampire, though. Learned to navigate your fragile relationship. Watched him change even before encountering his master, and then watching him change even further after his master was finally dead. But Sebastian.. You could tell this man in particular cut Astarion extra deep.

"What in the hells is taking so long, Shadowheart?"

The venom in Astarion's voice throws you from your thoughts back into the harsh reality. You'd nearly bled out in that crypt. You carefully sit up on your elbows and stare down at the gaping gash on the top of your thigh, the sliced skin and mangled muscles making your stomach turn. Shadowheart flicks her eyes to you then back down to your injury. She's not used to this much blood. This much damage. Cazador's blade cut deep enough to sever flesh and arteries alike. It's a miracle you haven't bled out completely like the boar Astarion left on the road to the Blighted Village.

"Things like this take time, Astarion. A little patience would be appreciated."

Pain fizzles through your limbs. The familiar threat of unconsciousness blurs your vision and your body goes limp. Black spots dance in front of your eyes. Shadowheart gasps loudly, fumbling to quickly catch your head before it hits the ground behind you. Your lover shoves his way into the tent to assess the situation, dropping to his knees beside you to cradle you in his arms once more. Gentle fingers tap against your now sickeningly pale cheek.

"Tav? Tav! Stay with me, my love. Come on. Stay with me."

His voice is soft. Gentle. Riddled with panic and worry, just the way it was in the crypt not long ago. Your eyelids flutter closed, breathing slowing down at an alarming rate. The world quiets around you and the sounds of your yelling companions dulling to a muffled buzz.

...

Astarion flips the page of his book carefully, licking the tip of his thumb to find better purchase on the smooth parchment. You blink your eyes up at the darkness and groan at the stiffness in your bones. How long have I been asleep? Palming at your eyes, you adjust your position, whining at the evident pain in your leg still. The vampire's eyes travel from the page to you and he flattens the book onto the floor, carefully crawling toward you. He coos, smoothing your hair back, guiding you back down to the bedroll.

"Be careful, my love. You're still healing. Shadowheart did an admittedly wonderful job patching you up, but you need to rest."

"Mm.. Hungry.."

A loud rumble in your stomach makes the vampire chuckle, sweet fingers moving down to rub circles over the ravenous organ.

"Stay here. I'll get you something to eat. I believe Gale is on dinner duty tonight. Don't move."

You nod, hair falling away from your face and onto your pillow, sprawling in silky waves. Reaching your fingers toward your leg, you feel over the bandage, the familiar warmth of blood making you pull away quickly. Your eyelids squeeze shut and you grit your teeth. Chatter erupts around the campfire outside of your tent. All of the companions laughing and joking making your head pound. The familiar scent of fire and food rouses your senses enough to help you rise from the bedroll, careful and calculated footsteps carrying you to the front of your tent. A distinct voice rings out above the others. Astarion.

"Gods, I cannot believe she just.. She always gets herself in these situations. I try to protect her. I do. She's just so careless.. So dumb sometimes. I'm genuinely surprised she's made it this far without far worse injuries."

Your heart sinks to the deepest pit of your stomach, bottom lip quivering at his words. You don't try put yourself in danger, and you especially don't need Astarion to save you every single time. Clenching your fists, you wobble your way out of the tent, face a dark shade of angry red. Your companions' eyes all flock to you and Astarion rushes to your side. Gentle hands reach out to steady you where you stand. You shove away from him, eyes like the sharpest daggers piercing directly into his skull. Everyone gasps loudly, Gale slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. Wyll shoves him with his elbow and eyes the scene carefully, fully ready to split up an altercation.

"D-Don't touch me. I've got it."

Gale clears his throat. Karlach shoves a large bite of food into her mouth, eyes flicking from you to Astarion then back to you. Astarion's eyes widen in confusion, his hands still held out where you originally were. Taking a step toward you, he attempts to help once more, teeth taking hold of his plush bottom lip. Rage bubbles up in your gut and you side step the vampire, stumbling and catching your balance before smoothing your shirt down. Shadowheart stands quickly, watching you intently.

"I said.. I GOT IT."

Your voice is hot. Your temper hotter. Molten, ready to absolutely erupt. Astarion's eyebrows and nose scrunch up, his fists balling at his sides now, not even the fires of Avernus burning as hot as his face.

"Why won't you just let me help you, Sebastian?!"

The camp falls suddenly silent. Sebastian? Your heart nearly bursts, fingers trembling now. Astarion really just called me Sebastian.. Shadowheart's hands slap over her mouth to stifle a loud gasp. The vampire's entire stature crumbles, hands reaching out toward you in an immediate apologetic grasp and you yank away from him as quickly as your injured leg will allow. Your vision goes white. Mustering all of your strength, you bolt toward tree cover, arm reaching up to cover your embarrassed and tear covered face, Astarion not quite quick enough to stop you from fleeing. He moves toward you and Shadowheart reaches out to grasp at his arm, tugging him back toward her, Wyll standing to move in front of him. Strong palms hold Astarion back and he speaks calmly at him, doing all he can to attempt to reason with the spawn.

"Astarion.. let her go. Let her go. Give her time."

Astarion shoves the two off of him, spitting between his words.

"I didn't mean to say it!"

...

Your legs don't take you very far, your tired body collapsing into the grass just before a large clearing in the trees. You curl up on your side and sob quietly into your knees. Was it jealousy rattling your insides? Pain? The fear that Astarion still cared more for Sebastian than he ever could for you? That's it. You're fully aware of how difficult the idea of love is for Astarion. Your mind settles on the idea of jus being Sebastian's replacement. Second best. Tears and snot stain your face as you cry into the night air. Heavy footsteps barrel in your direction and you brace yourself with your legs, the still tender injury on your thigh aching profusely. Heavy breaths envelope you as Astarion drops to his knees beside you and scoops you into his trembling arms, the heave of his chest evident.

"Gods Tav.. Please don't run off like that.."

You don't have the strength to move. The will power to protest. Instead, you collapse against him, whining quietly, hands grasping at the silk material of his shirt. The wind rustles in the trees around you. Leaves blow past your two bodies. The air is quiet. Peaceful. Astarion simply sits there, holding you, fingers grasping onto any little part of you that they can, the closeness of your bodies the only thing keeping him from crumbling himself.

"Look at me.."

You refuse to move. A gentle hand scoops under your chin and lifts your head, forcing your eyes to meet your lover's. His confidence wavers for a moment, thumb moving up to wipe the warm tears from beneath your eye.

"I love you, Tav. You know that, right?"

Nodding, you chew your bottom lip, carefully considering your next words.

"Y-You're not just.. With me because you feel guilty about Sebastian, right? You're not trying to.. Fill some void?"

The look in Astarion's eyes is enough of an answer for you, but you settle against him, hand moving up to chew on the tip of your thumb. He stares down at you in disbelief, smoothing your hair away from your damp face. His words are soft like velvet and he leans in to your ear.

"I may exaggerate many things in this life. My love for you is not one of them. You are my everything, sweet Tav. My moon, my stars, my home. My safety. Without you, I would be positively miserable."

Without hesitation, your lips crash to his, a kiss so passionate it nearly knocks him backwards. His cold hands cup your warm cheeks and rub small swipes with his thumbs. Your heart swells in your chest. You've never felt a love so pure. And you didn't expect it to come from someone so broken. So damaged by the cruelties of life. So absolutely beaten down. In all honesty, you never thought Astarion, of all people, was capable of a love so true.

Moving carefully in his lap, you adjust your position to straddle his waist, his legs straightening out beneath you to allow you the room to sit comfortably. Confident hands slide up and under the silk nightgown you're wearing, finding purchase on the globes of your plush ass. Fingernails dig gently into the fabric of your underwear. You grin against his lips. "Mm.." Instinctively, your hips grind down against Astarion's, the pace remaining slow almost as if to ask for permission, earning a soft groan into your mouth. He knows your cues like the back of his hand and he happily obliges. One of his hands travels down the front of your torso straight to your already sopping cunt, rubbing circles over it for a moment through the wet fabric before he reaches for the laces of his leathers, freeing his already erect cock. You ignore the intense burning of the wound on your thigh, the pleasure of Astarion's fingers meeting your heat far easier to focus on. You raise yourself on your knees, lips not once breaking from Astarion's and he lines himself up beneath you. You reach one hand down to pull the crotch of your underwear to the side, your other hand guiding Astarion's length into your aching slit.

You sigh heavily into his mouth. He fills you up perfectly. Your walls stretch and burn around him deliciously before you begin to carefully bounce yourself, Astarion bottoming out with each bounce. His hands guide your hips, tongue fighting for dominance with yours. The moment is perfect. Your tear stained cheeks burn brightly in pure pleasure. All of your worries slip away into the abyss and the two of you ride out your ecstasy, bodies pressed impossibly close together, lips swollen and red from the constant back and forth of kisses. Astarion breaks away for a single moment, mumbling sweetly down at you, a gentle hand moving up into the back of your hair.

"Don't ever doubt your place in my cold little heart, darling. You occupy more space in it than you'd ever know what to do with."

[drdemonprince]

Hi! I've recently been getting into fashion and I need some advice. Specifically, I (queer trans man, American) really like the look of like. Men's leather bondage gear, and I want to try and incorporate that into my outfits to look cool, but at the same time I don't think my sexuality is anyone's business and I don't really want to be advertising the fact that I'm gay to everyone who sees me. Also, I don't want to be dressed innappropriately. My logic is that if people can wear chokers in public, there has to be some level of leather gear that is appropriate and not immediately obvious - do you have any ideas of what that level is?

I actually have an article on this! To wit: I think because of homophobia we hypersexualize a lot of gay men's fashion despite the fact that when we look at high fashion designed for cis straight women, bondage gear is absolutely fucking everywhere.

Leather, rubber, and bondage gear are an important part of queer history. Harnesses, collars, pup hoods, leather jackets, heavy boots, and handkerchiefs are all associated with sex, but they are also all cultural signifiers and articles of clothing. And they're all articles of clothing that you'd see on the runway or on a goth at the mall and barely blink at. The only reason we see these things as inappropriate is because of the growing moral panic surrounding gay people's sexuality, and our culture's particular bent toward hypersexualizing gay men.

(you'll notice in this essay that I say sexualizing leather is just as absurd as sexualizing drag. Just three years after I wrote it, we now live in a moment where drag queens are routinely painted by conservatives as being inappropriately sexual around children. This is the path we go down when we try to filter our sexual expression to placate conservatives who accuse us of being groomers. They just keep taking more and more away from us, because it's our very existence that is inappropriate in their eyes, not "how far" we have gone.)

A leather harness is no less appropriate for public wear than a promise ring or wedding ring. They're both symbols of the culture a person belongs to and that culture's standards regarding gender and sex, as well as a reflection of the person wearing the article subscribing to some extent to that culture's value system. I wear a collar nearly every day and that might put some sexual thoughts or hang ups in the minds of random people who behold me, but I haven't done anything to violate another person sexually by openly being myself.

I would also apply this same line of thinking to fursuits, by the way. Furries do incorporate their love of anthropomorphic animal people into their sex lives, consuming porn with anthros, pretending to be animal people during sex, or even having sex in their gear. But that is because being a furry is an important part of who they are, how they express themselves and who they find community with. And so, because being a furry is so important to who they are, they also incorporate furrydom into many many elements of their lives that are completely nonsexual: socializing with friends in their suits, making new outfits and accessories for their costumes, performing in their fursuits at furry talent contests and for tiktok.

A furry dancing around in their suit is no more sexual than a straight man dancing on tiktok with his wife. And a gay man wearing a harness, collar, leather chaps, or hell, a rubber tail on his belt is no more inappropriately sexual in public than either of them.

[ask-carmenpondiego]

Chapter 5: Storage crates, little glass vials and hallucinations, oh my!

Soon they had gathered everything the needed to leave the island, M shut off all the lights and opened a dark room, the floor was pitch black. “I can’t do this often but it will get us where we need to go a few times. Having a passenger tends to wear me out. Keep a hold of me or you’ll get lost.” Carmen gulps and looks at the darkness, from what he had explained, he walks through and they come out the other end at the location that was thought about. She grips his coat and steps with him, both thinking about the storage locker Carmen had when she disbanded her original VILE henchmen. They stepped into a large storage unit, in the shadows. M flipped the lightswitch, and boxes and crates of loot were illuminated. He gave a low whistle, “Babe, you really are loaded..” Carmen went for a trunk on the opposite side of the room, “Dont call me babe, I’m not your lover, I’m your sister in law.” She bent and riffled through the clothes, picking out what extras she needed into a small travel pack. The changeling slinked up behind her and pressed himself against her bent frame, leaning his elbows along her back, head in his hands. “Doncha mean Ex-sister in law? If you’re widowed, doesnt that make you single?” She froze, bracing herself by gripping the sides of the trunk, her face flushing a bright red. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! Your brother is dead and you’re grinding against his wife, what the hell kind of coping are you failing at?!” She growled at him, her voice shaking a little. She felt her skin get sweaty, as she tries to focus on the contents of the trunk.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” His voice seemed to have suddenly gotten quite farther away. She stands and looks around, seeing him poke around a stone statue. She narrows her eyes, knowing that he can be quite speedy, “W-what do you mean? You were just grinding me!” He genuinely looked confused, “Ah no? I’ve been looking around at all the shit you got here. I only did that once when we were at the safe house. You obviously weren’t comfortable with it. I’m an asshole but not that kind of asshole..” she furrows her brow, rubbing her arm a bit as she sank into her thoughts. “We need to head back to the asylum, I need to get into the files there.” She stepped behind an ancient chinese room screen and started changing into her own leather pants and a corseted shirt, though a bit tight in the bust. She swept her long red trenchcoat on and grabbed her wide brimmed red hat, placing it on her head. She puts on her purple glasses and shut the trunk.

“What fuckin files? We should see about Wally’s body first.” He stood, looking her up and down with his glowing green eyes, arms crossed. His horns today looked more like a young bucks antlers, just in pure black with a slightly toxic green sheen. She finished tying her yellow ascot around her neck, “If we find out why they directed me to that building out in nowhere, then it may lead us to why the museum was set ablaze. Its the only real lead I have.” She adjusted her black riding gloves and picked up the travel bag. “When we’re done, I’m thinking I’ll just give this all back to the proper owners. Not to any museums, like the British Museum, they already stole enough, I dont need to add to that in particular.” She walks closer to him, getting a sudden shiver. “Ok, ready.. lets go.” Marehem frowns, tilting his head, “Are you feelin alright? You look a bit clammy..” she grumped and walked to the area where they stepped into the shadow, “I’m fine, just itching to get going! So lets go!” She reached out her hand impatiently to take hold of his coat, her other hand already to shut the lights off. He groaned and followed her, letting her hold his arm, a few tentacles wrapped around her waist protectively as the lights went out.

They stepped out into a destroyed laboratory room from the darkest corner, she tried to remember the layout and started rifling through papers she saw on desks and tables. She caught sight of the electricity device and shivered. M wandered around, kicking debris rather boredly. He admired his handiwork as he came across a large dried bloodsplatter upon the wall, chuckling as he sees a silhouette of another victim as a blank space in the splatter. There had been a few flies buzzing about the remains of whatever was organically left. “Hey Red, Look! Aaahhh!” He called for her attention standing next to the blank space, mimicking it like he was the screaming victim, ending in him cackling at himself. She looked up and gave a slight disgusted look, “So I see. You sure didnt leave much for the forensics, did you?” She went back to taking photos of the documents she found, gagging slightly. “Remind me never to join you on your heists, you’re no fun.” He mutters, picking a few scalpels and tossing them at a poster on the wall of a simplified body shape with simplified organ shapes, each scalpel skewering a vital organ. “Oh I’m plenty fun, I’m just focused right now! You could help me instead of.. of..” she bumped into something and looked up. Looming over her was a battered and angry looking figure of Dr Ravidel Soltek. He grabbed her by the throat and tossed her across the table, knocking it over. He leapt at her pinning her down as she cried out, trying to pry him off of her. He held a needle of glowing blue zydrate to her leg, growling, “You could never stay away, could you, pequeña ladrona? You just wanted more.” She shrieked out in protest, and clenched her eyes shut, preparing herself to feel the drug rush. Her shoulders were suddenly held and shaken hard, his voice faded as M’s voice came clearer.

“Red! Hey, snap out of it! What’s going on? What happened?” She blinked and looked around in a panicked state, panting hard. “Where is he? Where did he go?” M crouched to her level, visibly confused and concerned, “Where did who go? No one has been here other than us. I already checked.” She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, “Ravidel was here.. he tossed me and tried to.. the blue, where’s the blue?” She sat up on her knees and started looking all over the debris on the floor. Frantically she searched drawers and cabinets until she found some blue glass vials and started stuffing them into her pockets. “He cant drug me if I have his whole supply!” M watched her and rubbed his face as he realized why she acted the way she has for the past few days. “Shit, it was in-front of me the whole fuckin time. He got you hooked on somethin and now you’re in withdrawal..” He took her arm and turned her towards him, pinning her arms down against her sides. “Red, stop that. He’s not here, he was never here. You’re tweaking like a druggie. You gotta stop and ride it out. Here lets put these back, you dont need them.” He starts taking the vials out of her pockets as she tries to put them back in, “No, he’ll just use them on me, I need to take them away, I need to.. need to..” she started looking for the syringe gun as M took it away before she could reach for it, roaring at her, “Carm! Stop! You ain’t taking another goddamn hit! Fuck! Get your fuckin head straight! You know, I told myself that if I ever met you, that you were gonna be so cool. But look at you. Strung out. I know its not your fault but shit.. Never meet your heroes.” He whipped the syringe gun out the broken window and stormed off. Carmen stood there, letting his words sink in. She looked down at a broken mirror and hardly recognized herself. “He’s right.. what am I even doing?” She looked at a vial in her hand and looked at it before popping the stopper. She put a drop on her fingertip and placed it under her tongue. The taste was horrible but the calming sensation instantly flowed over her and her mind got more clear. Obviously not as euphoric in such a tiny drop but enough to clear the clouds. “Maybe I can overcome this if I micro-dose and ween myself off. I just.. I can’t let him know. I need to be better than this.” She moved the small stash to different inner pockets. She then ran after him, a few papers flew off the desk, a watermark barely visible as they flew past a light and onto the ground.

[wolfpants]

I am a bit late to the party, but I just wanted to let you know how much I have enjoyed following your kinkuary! Most days, I literally dropped everything to read the new story as soon as I got the notification lol

You have like this incredible talent for shaping the worldbuilding of each fic is so little words, and almost always leaving me wanting more. I was so so happy when I saw you reprised the same universe of “Galvanize” in “The House Sitters”!

Most of all, though, I wanted to let you know how in love I am with your way of writing Draco. I loved every single version of him you showed us during last month, and always, *always*, have found hime so profoundly in character. I think I would adore every version of him you wrote, in every possible universe. Your Draco is simply *incredible*. My favourite version was probably the one of “The Classics”, but those of “A Room with a View in the Flowering City” and “Hell Bent for Leather” come in as close seconds.

Okay, I’ve been babbling for too long, but tysm for this kinkuary ❤

Oh 🥺 Thank you so much!! What a lovely message. And thank you so much for your kind words about my different versions of Draco! I spend a lot of time fine turning characterisations (as most of my stories are character-driven rather than plot-driven), so you wouldn't believe how much it means to me to read this.

Draco, I've always found, is a hard one, because he's so particular, you know? I'm overjoyed my versions of him have worked for you!

Sending love! 💘

[veesunderthetree]

ENG "Hurry!" "Vivi, don't take it out on your teacher like that!" “The hell with it, Jean-” Vivienne was screaming loudly but the roar was four times more intense, enough to silence her. Jean Jaque, bent over the alchemical circle with the chalk, put his hands to his tympanums in zero time as the great cathedral shifted. They were appalled, or at least she thought she caught a hanging jaw from her mentor as her awestruck gaze focused on the most bizarre, eclectic, and out of grace sight she had ever seen: Notre-Dame was moving. It was standing up and seemed to be supported on two legs which were parts of the nave, squashed and bent. "What..." "It's a robo-cathedral." The roar died down, but Jean had already started muttering before the noise even left, with that usual old-pensioner grumpy way that Vivienne yearned to have one day. "What?!" "It's... mecha-Notre-Dame!" “Now that you have been *that* more specific, thank you very much!” Whatever mechanics the huge animated building had, it wouldn't have served to protect them further. Vivienne moved her hands in the air as if to push her electrical barrier, but the thin bluish luminous discharges could have stopped a projectile, at most an opponent's blow, not an abomination of that magnitude. Jean was still scribbling profusely, but they were running out of time. If they hadn't initiated a counter-ritual, that monstrosity would not have stopped. Mecha-Notre Dame lifted one of its imposing feet to step lightly on the ancient churchyard in which it lived. A few yards away, the girl swore she saw Father Dominic's sprawled body sink into a hole among those that were forming in the ground. "Hold on, I'm almost done," her master reassured her with conviction, but she wasn't entirely sure that the magic dissolving ritual could bear fruit. With a movement of her pelvis she shifted her weight onto one of her legs; at that moment she managed to intercept projectiles made of rubble and fiery debris aiming in their direction. Their crash on the ground distracted her for a second: she stood still in the pose to concentrate deeply and bring back that automatism in the use that magic brought with it. Still meters away, she saw the young Ronin intervene. Musashi, clad in dark robes made of the blackest shadow, was using his particular blade as if he were going to dent stone—and amazingly he was succeeding. Franco was instead hanging on the facade from one of the large windows, apparently he was trying to jump in search of the priest who was animating the building against them, going to flush him out of his hiding place. The water, pouring out of mouths in the broken road, splashed them sparingly. Vivienne gritted her teeth, her graceful hands whirling in the air as her palms cooked with electricity. She bore the pain, thinking of it as a twist of energy, but not without stifling a cry of despair. “How much do you have left? It won't hold up for long." "Less than a minute, my dear." “Should I have someone moved?” "Neither. You should act on your own. It's just a passive effect, your teammates should be safe." “Hope for them. We'll probably have to cheer Dominic up with the teaspoon." "Again?" The girl suddenly smiled, softly amused by Jean's exclamation. More often than not the trouble sought close contact with Father Dominic, and more willingly than often the priest would inexorably lose the game against the dark forces, ending up with a whole different set of scars, one uglier than the last. “That lunatic is going to have an extra cute little ladybug stitch tomorrow,” she replied honestly, shrugging as she shifted position again, pulling an arm out to begin channeling the magic closer and closer to them. The water wet her boots, she felt the cold behind her the thick stockings and the finely worked leather of the London craftsmen. "It's done! Now, Vivienne!” With a grunt, the witch closed the fingers of her hands. On her palms gradually larger luminous globes formed, giving off static electricity. As she released her weight, she dropped her arms down and curled up gracefully, drawing some of that energy back into herself. A light began to shine from her feet and with confidence and familiarity, she recognized that they were glyphs drawn by Jean. "Is..." “It's working. What did I teach you about doubting me?” “ “Not in this world,” right?” "Damn right." The alchemical circle began to glow more and more intensely, so much so that she had to cover his eyes. The wind rose making her long and sober skirt sway, moving the master's white and well-cut hair. She tried to cast one last look at her friends, but before she could, she had to close her lids. Another roar and an intense vibration shook the entire churchyard, and somehow she knew that Mecha-Notre Dame was returning to place, or a part of reality. The world soon went dark, she blacked out for a few moments.When she awoke, she was in a familiar room, on a bed that had been hers for most of her teenage years. Slowly, admitting to herself that she had curled up in a decidedly uncomfortable and coffin-like position, she began to loosen her muscles little by little, moving her creaking joints. In a faint voice, even before opening and focusing on the world, she asked everyone around. “So, did it work?” She heard Jean Jaque's voice answer, in his usual inflexible and proud tone. “What, my gorgeous Vivienne?” “Mecha Notre Dame.” “Mecha...? You must be feeling unwell, dear. You should rest a little longer.” It was at that point that something of a revelation hit her like a slap in the face. She flung her lids open in one fell swoop and pulled herself up from the soft mattress, casting a horrified look at the interlocutor. ITA “Fai in fretta!” “Vivi, non te la prendere così col tuo maestro!” “Al diavolo, Jean-” Vivienne stava urlando a gran voce ma il boato fu quattro volte più intenso, tanto da zittirla. Jean Jaque, piegato sul cerchio alchemico con il gessetto in mano, si portò le mani ai timpani in tempo zero mentre la grande cattedrale si spostava. Rimasero sgomenti, o almeno le parve di cogliere una mascella penzolante da parte del suo mentore mentre il suo sguardo sbigottito si concentrava sullo spettacolo più bizzarro, eclettico e fuori dalla grazia divina che avesse mai visto: Notre-Dame si stava muovendo. Si stava alzando in piedi e pareva sostenersi su due gambe che erano parti della navata schiacciate e piegate. “Cosa...” “E’ una robo-cattedrale.” Il boato si spense, ma Jean aveva già iniziato a borbottare prima ancora il rumore si assottigliasse, con quel suo solito fare scontroso da vecchio pensionato che Vivienne anelava ad avere un giorno. “Una cosa?!” “E’... mecha-Notre-Dame!” “Ora si che sei stato più specifico, grazie mille!” Qualsiasi tipo di meccanica avesse quell’enorme edificio animato, non sarebbe servita a proteggerli ulteriormente. Vivienne mosse le mani in aria come a spingere la sua barriera elettrica, ma le sottili scariche luminose bluastre avrebbero potuto fermare un proiettile, al massimo il colpo di un avversario, non un abominio di quella portata. Jean stava continuando a scribacchiare con dovizia, ma erano a corto di tempo. Se non avessero intavolato un contro-rituale, quella mostruosità non si sarebbe fermata. Mecha-Notre Dame sollevò uno dei suoi imponenti piedi per pestare con poca leggerezza l’antico sagrato in cui abitava. A pochi metri di distanza, la ragazza giurò aver visto il corpo riverso di Padre Dominic sprofondare in una buca tra quelle che si andavano formando nel terreno. “Tieni duro, ho quasi finito” la rassicurò il suo maestro con convinzione, ma dal canto suo non era del tutto sicura che il rituale di dissolvimento della magia potesse dare buoni frutti. Con un movimento del bacino spostò il peso su una delle gambe; in quel momento riuscì ad intercettare dei proiettili fatti di macerie e detriti infuocati che miravano in loro direzione. Il loro scroscio a terra la distrasse per un secondo: rimase ferma in posa per concentrarsi profondamente e far riaffiorare quell’automatismo nell’utilizzo che la magia portava con sè. Sempre a metri di distanza, vide il giovane Ronin intervenire. Musashi, coperto da oscuri paramenti fatti dell’ombra più nera, stava usando la sua particolare lama come se dovesse intaccare la pietra - ed incredibilmente ci stava riuscendo. Franco era invece appeso sulla facciata ad uno dei finestroni, a quanto pareva stava cercando di saltare dentro alla ricerca del prete che stava animando l’edificio contro di loro, andandolo a stanare dal suo nascondiglio. L’acqua, fuoriuscendo da delle imboccature nella strada rotta, li schizzò con parsimonia. Vivienne strinse i denti, le sue mani aggraziate volteggiarono in aria mentre i palmi le cuocevano per via dell’elettricità. Sopportò il dolore, pensandolo come ad un risvolto dell’energia, ma non senza soffocare un grido di disperazione. “Quanto ti rimane? Non reggerà a lungo.” “Meno di un minuto, mia cara.” “Devo far spostare qualcuno?” “No, no. Dovrebbe agire da solo. E’ solo un effetto passivo, i tuoi compagni dovrebbero essere al sicuro.” “Speriamo per loro. Probabilmente dovremo tirare su Dominic col cucchiaino da thè.” “Di nuovo?” La ragazza sorrise ad un tratto, sommessamente divertita dall’esclamazione di Jean. Più spesso che volentieri i guai cercavano un contatto ravvicinato con Padre Dominic, e più volentieri che spesso il prete perdeva inesorabilmente la partita contro le forze oscure, finendo con tutta una diversa sfilza si cicatrici una più brutta dell’altra. “Quel pazzo si troverà con una tenera cucitura a forma di coccinella in più, domani” rispose con tutta onestà, facendo spallucce mentre cambiava di nuovo posizione, tirando un braccio a sè per iniziare a convogliare la magia sempre più vicino a loro. L’acqua le bagnò gli stivaletti, sentì il freddo da dietro le spesse calze ed il cuoio finemente lavorato degli artigiani Londinesi. “E... fatto! Ora, Vivienne!” Con un grugnito, la strega chiuse le dita delle mani. Sui suoi palmi si formarono dei globi luminosi via via più grandi, che emanavano elettricità statica. Quando rilasciò il peso, fece cadere le braccia in basso e si ranicchiò con grazia, riassorbendo parte di quell’energia in sè. Una luce iniziò a brillare dai suoi piedi e con sicurezza e familiarità, riconobbe che erano i glifi disegnati da Jean. “Sta...” “Sta funzionado. Che ti avevo insegnato a proposito del dubitare di me?” “ “Non in questo mondo”, giusto?” “Giusto.” Il cerchio alchemico iniziò a risplendere sempre più intensamente, talmente tanto che dovette coprirsi gli occhi. Il vento si sollevò facendole ondeggiare la lunga e sobria gonna, smuovendo i capelli bianchi e ben tagliati del maestro. Cercò di lanciare un’ultima occhiata agli amici, ma prima che potesse farlo dovette chiudere le palpebre. Un altro boato ed una vibrazione intensa scossero l’intero sagrato, ed in qualche modo capì che Mecha-Notre Dame stava tornando a posto, od una parte della realtà. Il mondo si oscurò presto, perse i sensi per qualche attimo. Quando si risvegliò, era in una camera familiare, su un letto che era stato suo per la maggior parte dell’adolescenza. Con lentezza, ammettendo a sè stessa di essersi ranicchiata in una posizione decisamente scomoda e da bara, iniziò a sciogliere i muscoli poco a poco, smuovendo le giunture scricchiolanti. Con un filo di voce, ancora prima di aprire e mettere a fuoco il mondo, chiese a chiunque ci fosse lì attorno. “Allora, ha funzionato?” Sentì rispondere la voce di Jean Jaque, nel suo solito tono inflessibile e fiero. “Cosa, mia splendida Vivienne?” “Mecha-Notre Dame.” “Mecha...? Devi sentirti poco bene, cara. Dovresti riposare ancora un po’.” Fu a quel punto che una specie di rivelazione la colpì come uno schiaffo in faccia. Spalancò le palpebre d’un colpo e si tirò su dal morbido materasso, volgendo uno sguardo inorridito all’interlocutore.

[coonhoundcat]

Schedule It | Villain x Hero Snippet

-I didn't have a plan for this, so it didn't really go anywhere in particular. And I'm okay with that.-

"Woah, there buddy--what are you doing?"

Hero whirled around, aborting their inter-rooftop leap, losing their footing, and nearly careening over the parapet wall anyway.

"Oh GOD-" they jerked back, slipping and scrambling to get their legs under them properly. Failing that, they slammed fully into the roof tile.

With a gasp, they were up on their hands and knees, staring wildly up through a disheveled mane.

A gloved hand appeared in front of their face. The owner smiled, though it looked more worried than anything else. "You alright, bud?"

"Uuuuuuhhh yep! All good!" Hero flushed, recoiling a bit from the offering. "Just- peachy!" They shakily pushed themselves to their feet, only staggering a little on bruised shins. The damage to their brand was a lot worse than anything physical, anyway. They pressed a hand to their burning temple before they remembered- "SHIT- Superhero--" they spun back around to face the far rooftop battle raging on without them- "C'mon-- we've got to help-"

"What? NO. You can't- that's Supervillain."

"Yes! So we've gotta help Superhero!"

A leather-clad hand snapped to their arm, fingers locking around their wrist.

"Absolutely not. What the fuck is wrong with you? They're matched! You aren't scheduled for this!"

"Scheduled? What-" Hero tried to tug away, but the grip tightened. They narrowed their eyes. ".... Who are you?"

The stranger met their gaze. "Villain 98. Who the hell are you?"

The villain's gaze dipped down--lingering--and up again, eyebrows creeping up to their hairline. "Oh shit... they really did add a new one. When did you roll in, Boots?"

"... You're the villain?"

"Yeah? 98. That's what I just-"

Hero socked them in the face.

"HOLY-"

Finally breaking free, Hero ducked a blind swing, and launched themselves at the villain.

Hero's shoulder rammed into their gut, sending both of them staggering. Arms started to wrap around-- they slid under Villain's bear hug, popping out just slightly behind-

And Hero was yanked backwards, dragged by their own cape; fingers dug into their shoulders, their arm, twisting it up and behind their back, forcing them down--

Hero slammed into the floor, on their knees for the second time that night, bent over and panting through the burn. Arm locks fucking hurt.

Villain kept them in place, one hand pressed to the back of the hero's shoulder, and the other keeping a constant, painful angle to their wrist.

"What the hell, Boots? Don't you know what a fucking schedule is? 'Cause I don't remember seeing your name next to mine."

Hero grit their teeth, uncomfortably contorting to glare over their shoulder in a haze of sweat. The sight of blood running down Villain's face was worth it. "What. Schedule."

"Oh... my god. Is this your first day here?" They looked bewildered. "What's your number?"

".... I don't-"

"Fucking hell. Not even from your hometown? What, were you Hero of the Tules? Only had one hero in Sheepsville, Middle of Nowhere? How the fuck did you end up here?"

"... The village counsel was very impressed-"

"Oh. My. God." Villain was wheezing. "You are going to be eaten alive."

Hero looked to the ground, the tips of their ears coloring. They weren't exactly in a good position to argue. It hadn't been a day, and they were already getting far too familiar with the local architecture. The roof-work really needed some renovations. And the city seemed so dark. And hostile, and cold. They shivered. Who were they making proud?

There was a heavy sigh behind them. "Look. You're weak. I'm not the strongest villain here by a long shot-- and you can't even get out of a wrist grab. That being said, you're actually pretty quick. It's almost impressive. You can work with that. If you're not already planning to go make nice with the cows."

".... 'M not going back."

"Good. 'Cause you're actually kind of fun to fight."

Villain released the hold, and Hero fell forward with a groan, immediately bringing a hand up to rub at their abused shoulder and arm.

"Don't do anything else stupid tonight, 'Hero'. Stay out of fights; wait until you get put on a list, please. We do have schedules for a reason."

The hero turned in time to see them whisk off to the other edge of the building, and glance back. "I might even request you as an opponent. I usually go at it with 36.... but I'm not too attached." They gave a last wink, and stepped over the edge.

Hero remained kneeling for a minute, staring. A gust of wind bit through their clothes, sending their cape whipping to the side.

"... Thank you...?"

[mldrgrl]

Homecoming

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG Pairing: Hank and Stella Summary: see Gif - https://twitter.com/adoringgillian/status/1533824798589083648?s=21&t=NEYu_Kzr26dU_ajbHELQKA

She passes a flower vendor on her way home, one she passes nearly every day, but this day  has to pause and take a few steps back to examine the display.  It’s the ranunculus that catches her eye, a shade so purple it’s nearly black.  She picks up the bouquet with a bit of nostalgia.

How long ago was it?  Three years ago, maybe.  It was the first time since they’d been living in New York together that she’d had to go away for a week.  It was peculiar how quickly they’d become accustomed to being together every day when previously they’d spend so much of their time apart.

She’d never flown into LaGuardia before and probably picked the worst time to give it a try.  Not only was the plane delayed, construction sent passengers on numerous detours in and around the airport in every which way but to the taxi stand.

She’d felt weary and annoyed by the time she’d spotted the signage for the exit.  With any luck, all she’d had left to do was take one more escalator and then she’d be on her way home to her husband.  As the escalator crested and the main hall came into view, she suppressed the girlish smile that tugged at her lips and dipped her head slightly to hide the blush in her cheeks.

Hank had stood amid the crowd, relaxed and at ease even as passengers toting wheeled bags and crying toddlers rushed past.  He’d had on her favorite pair of dark jeans and his leather jacket over a black t-shirt.  His hair had been disheveled in that signature way that only served to make him infuriatingly more attractive.  He had a bouquet of flowers in his hand and next to him was a man in chauffeur’s uniform holding a white paper with HIS WIFE written on it, and an arrow pointing at Hank.

No longer able to suppress her smile, she strolled towards him slowly, tugging at the belt of her camel hair coat to cinch the waist a little tighter.  At the last second, she turned her gaze to the chauffeur.  He wasn’t much taller than her, stocky, with straight black hair down over his ears and pockmarked cheeks.

“Are you my ride?” she asked.

“Are you his wife?” he asked.

“I might be.”

“You were right,” the chauffeur said to Hank.

Stella gave Hank a questioning look.

“I told him my wife would be the single-most attractive woman he’d ever seen and all he’d have to do was look for the lady most out of my league in the airport to spot her.”

The chauffeur gave a snort-laugh and then put his hand out to take her bag from her.  She relinquished it as Hank bent to kiss her quickly on the lips and then put his arm around her.  He brought the bouquet of deep purple flowers up to her chest and she took it from him with a smile.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“Thought I’d surprise you.  Are you surprised?”

“Very.”

“Good.”  He pulled her closer to his side and kissed her temple.  “Now, let’s get the hell out of here.”

The flowers had done well in a vase placed on the coffee table until they’d finally wilted and died almost three weeks later.  She’d come across other bouquets of ranunculus many times since, in pink or yellow or orange, but none that particular shade of deep purple like the time he’d met her at the airport.

Sella buys the bouquet and touches the petals almost reverently as she takes the elevator up to the loft.  She drops her keys into the bowl by the door, sets her briefcase down and steps out of her high heels before she makes her way across the kitchen.

Hank isn’t in their bedroom and he isn’t in the office.  She checks for any notes or texts she may have missed, but there’s nothing.  She opens the door that leads up to the roof access and finds him there, sprawled out in the canopy daybed in a pair of half-buttoned jeans and the fireplace on low.  It’s not quite twilight hour, but the sun is low and the sky is a bruise of blues and pinks and purples.

“Hey, Sherlock.”

Stella presents the bouquet to Hank as she crawls onto the daybed on her knees.  He takes it from her and lays it over his chest to take her hand and hold her steady as she slides down onto her side next to him.

“For me?” he asks, crinkling the plastic wrapping around the flowers.

“I wanted to surprise you.”  She lays her head down on his shoulder, and looks up at him.  “Are you surprised.”

“Very.”

“Good.”  She smiles as he leans in to kiss her.

The End

[sleepy-moons]

extra honey

notes: no thoughts. just want dilf katsuki to be mean to me n fuck me stupid <3

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni!) dilf katsuki, age gap. black fem!reader. reader is in early 20s. sorta kinda proof read.

katsuki didn’t believe in getting old.

while he knew it was inevitable to age, he was sure that he’d still be the best hero. he was sure that he’d be just as strong in his 40s as he was in his 20s.

that was before he noticed he was moving just a little slower. before he noticed the smallest hint of a gut appearing, no matter how hard he worked out and ate right. Before the specks of gray started to appear in his hair, and his joints weren’t as loose as before.

okay. well. he believes it now. but katsuki still had to be the best at something.

one thing he knew would never fail him were his good looks, no one could tell him otherwise. no one would. he could pull men and women, young and old, all day if he wanted.

but there was one person in particular that he wanted.

“black tea with extra honey for my favorite customer, and hero, Mr. Dynamight.” your smile alone nearly made him lose his mind. 

Katsuki only came to this coffee shop when he was feeling especially tired, but once you showed up he couldn't help but show face more often. Sometimes twice a day. 

“back for seconds?” you’d joke, already grabbing his favorite pastry. you always remembered his orders.

there was something about you that made Katsuki want you, that made him crave you in the worst (best?) ways possible. he didn’t know if it was the plump lips that curled into a smile whenever he walked in, even during rush (the same lips he imagined wrapped around his cock), if it was your skin seemingly glowing when he came in the afternoon, when the sun hit the shop just right (the same skin he wanted mark up). he could go on all day.

Katsuki didn’t care what it was. he needed to have you, and today was his lucky day. 

“hey, I was just closing up shop. Did you want me to grab anything for you?” there goes that fucking smile that drove him wild. 

“that won't be necessary. let me walk you home.” 

you two barely made it around the block before you were making out in an alleyway like fucking teenagers.

"wanted you for so fucking long.” he’d mutter, fingers already diving into your panties. his lips trailed down your neck, sucking dark marks into the brown skin. “barely touched you ’n you're already gushing for this old man.”

he was so mean, teasing you for cumming so quickly just on his fingers alone, and in public nonetheless. berating you for begging for his cock, begging him to take you home and fuck you over the sofa because your legs were already too weak for you to stand. that alone had his ego swelling and his cock throbbing. he couldn’t carry you to your place quick enough. 

the moment he’s got you bent over the back your couch (you did ask nicely, and he’s a gentleman after all), he’s sinking into your sopping cunt. you’re already squealing into the leather so prettily, legs shaking as you blubber “m-much, too much!” you’re squeezing what he’s managed to push in so tight he couldn’t help the deep groan he let out. 

“thought you were ready for me, princess? you can handle more than that, can't you?” he only waited two beats before he dug his fingers into your tight curls, yanking your head up. there was already a line of drool dribbling down your chin. “you know how to speak, don’t you? or have you already gone stupid?” he gave a few shallow thrusts before pushing deeper into you, using his free hand to toy with your clit. the mewls that came pouring from your lips were music to his ears.

“f-fuck, fuck, pl-eaase. can take it!” and, well. who was he to deny you?

his thrusts were rough and unforgiving, hitting all the right places and god, you feel like you could cry. he hasn’t even bottomed out and you feel so fucking full, pussy clenching and drooling all over his dick. fuck, you’re gonna cum.

“I—! Daddy!” this is the most you could confidently say. 

“gonna cum? gonna make a mess on my cock?” you’re nodding the best you can with his hand still gripping your hair. the pleas you cried out only spurred him on. “then cum. I won't tell you twice.”

it hit you like a tsunami, wave after wave crashing over your shaking body as you creamed all over his dick. katsuki was quick to follow suit after a few more thrusts, filling you up with a quiet “fuck!”

both of you let out a hiss once he finally pulled out. his scarred hands rubbed over your shoulders and down your arms, finally stopping at your hands that were still gripping onto the couch. he slowly massaged them into their relaxed state before shifting you around so you could comfortably lean on him (remember, he is a gentleman). you felt raw, exhausted, but most of all relaxed. you haven’t been fucked like that in...god knows how long. 

“will you still come to my shop for tea?” you mumbled sleepily. 

‘yeah. I still got it.’ Katsuki thought to himself. he was glad you couldn’t see the cocky smirk on his face, and sure as hell hoped you didn’t have a mind reading quirk. if he didn’t have a big head before, he definitely does now.

“as long as you remember the extra honey.”

[saturnville]

drunken affair.

pairing: jax teller.

content: jax is drunk and his mind is wandering.

song: make it rain, ed sheeran

note: i’ve barely made it through season 1 of soa cus i couldn’t get into it, so pardon any … inaccuracies. also i typically don’t curse so if it’s cringy… i apologize in advance.

divider from @firefly-graphics

A bottle of whiskey was his companion for the evening. He loved whiskey, and didn’t mind it’s presence. It didn’t speak. It didn’t move. It didn’t have judgements curated examining the wickedness surrounding the one who nursed its neck with a warm, clammy palm. He loved whiskey. It ran down smoothly before enticing a burn that took his mind off the sorrowful life he lived. 

An eerie silence grabbed him by the throat and yanked. It drew a wet cough from the back of his throat. A stream of vomit crawled up but he forced it down with another swig.

A dirty hand swiped across his face aggressively, taking tears and snot with it. He flicked his wrist to rid of the moisture before massaging the torn material of the rocking chair. His calloused finger tips danced over the tears and needle sized holes that branded it. His kind wandered to his former wife.

“Freakin’ junkie.” His words were slurred, filled with hatred, and coated with disgust. “Almost killed my kid. Bitch.”

Another swig. The bottle was half empty. He’d only been drinking for thirty minutes. His stomach gurgled in discomfort and he treated it with a small gulp and an inhale of a freshly lit cigarette.

A heavy exhale came from him and a retched hack soon followed. His heavy head fell slack against the headrest. He sniffed repeatedly, twitching his nose like an animal.

His eyelids were heavy and fluttered over blue eyes. He hated his eyes. They were his father's, plucked out of the old man's ducts and forced into his own. He hated his eyes. And he hated his father.

"That bastard," Jax grumbled almost incoherently. Slobber dribbled down the side of his mouth which he sucked in disgustingly. "Ruined my freakin' life. Too weak to leave now I carry this mess on my shoulders." Another swig.

John Teller was a strong man. A heart and head of steel and hands on iron and bronze. But, boy, was a weak behind the scenes. SAMCRO was the light of his life to those on the outside. Behind the scenes, it drowned him and sent his sanity to the pits of hell.

Those notes he'd written were a gateway to a freedom he desired so deeply. John was strong on the outside but weak on the inside. Damn his pride and uncertainty. If only he opened his mouth and backed out when he wanted to, SAMCRO would be dead and gone.

John wouldn't be dead. Jax would be at peace.

Peace. Seemed like a far-fetched construct that was impossible to reach. After swimming in the waters of torture and misery for so long, it seemed impossible for the lifebuoy of peace to pull him out.

“Hate him,” Jax huffed. He stood to his feet faster than they should have. His face almost collided with the floor but the circling of his arms restored balance. “I hate you,” he said to no one in particular. The leather kutte around his torso seemed to suffocate him. He scratched and pulled at the material aggressively.

The cigarette fell from his parted lips and onto the ragged carpet beneath his boot-clad feet.

“I hate you,” he said louder, snatching the kutte off his body. He threw it to the ground like he’d done many men before, pounding, kicking, and stomping on the material until it was crinkled and covered in dirt. That four lettered word spew from his mouth repeatedly.

His body grew tired. His arms fell by his side, his legs cramped, and his heart broke in two. The patch on the chest of his kutte stared back at him. President. He shook his head in disgust and blinked away the forming tears.

Slowly, Jax bent down and picked up the partially lit cigarette and brought it to his lips and took a sorrowful inhale. He spat upon the kutte below him. “I hate you…ruined my freakin’ life.”

[pricetagofficial]

Pair of Aces -H.D. [18+]

Warnings: Language, I made Harvey too hot for words, NSFW smut, drinking, smoking, car sex, self sex, oral sex, sex sex,  Harvey is a gift giver, I don’t make the rules, fluff, raunchy jokes and humor, sexy drink names

Paring: Harvey Dent x Reader

Masterlist

Part One Part Three

Word Count: 5.6K

A/N: This is the official/unofficial part two to Baby Doll. You can find it in the link above! After writing the first one, I had so many ideas that I wanted to do so I made another and here we are folks. 5.6k words of complete self indulgence. Blame Elle, (who also made this fabulous banner for me, love you!)

Harvey had his arm draped over your shoulders, keeping you within reach. Sure, this was supposed to be a friendly poker game but that didn't mean he trusted these fuckers with being within ten feet of you. 

It really didn't help that you dressed the way you did. The short leather skirt alone was enough to kill him. But when he saw the white sleeveless crop top with a golden chain laced across exposing your breasts, he swore his heart stopped.

Pressed close to Harvey's side, you shivered feeling the chain brush against your skin. You could feel several pairs of eyes trail over your body, only making Harvey tighten his hold on you.

The game was supposed to be between Harvey, Roman Sionis, and Oswald Cobblepott. Once a month, the three men put aside their differences for a couple of games of poker. No business was allowed, except potential info against a common enemy usually centered around a particular bat-obsessed freak.

The door at the end of the hall had several men standing guard, looking down at you and Harvey.

“There was nothing about bringing a guest,” one said. 

“Didn’t want to leave her all alone, thought she could learn something tonight,” Harvey explained, tightening his grip on your waist. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, daring the guards to try and pry you away from him. 

The larger one huffed and crossed his arms, a grin on his face. “We’ll have to pat you down before letting you in.” 

Releasing his hold on you, Harvey stepped forward with his hands up as the guard patted down his chest and legs to make sure he isn’t hiding anything suspicious. Finding the gun in his coat, the guard gave Harvey a look before he raised a brow. 

“Gotta protect my girl somehow,” he said, looking at him. “You never know the kind of creeps are out there.” 

The guard shrugged and let him pass, putting a hand out to stop you from following him. 

“Hey! You did your inspection, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

The guard’s grin got wider, his eyes hiding something malicious in them. “I said I had to pat you down, both of you.” 

“That’s a load of fucking bullshit,” he growled, stepping back to protect you. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you kissed his cheek. 

“Relax baby, I’ll be alright,” you assured, stepping back and putting your hands in the air. You felt the guard’s hands start on your waist and make their way up your torso, moving to grab your breasts. Before he could, you lifted your foot and slammed the heel of your stiletto into his foot. 

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” you frowned, listening to the guard hiss at the pain before finishing up and letting you through. 

Harvey chuckled, watching you handle yourself before grabbing your hand and pulling you into his chest. Placing a kiss on your lips, he opened the door and led you in. 

The room was filled with smoke from cigars and cigarettes galore, and there was a bad smell in the air that reminded you of the gym locker rooms. It smelled of sweat, meat, and something else you didn’t want to linger on. 

Harvey’s eyes raked the room, eyeing Roman and Oswald already sitting in their chairs having what seemed to be a friendly chat. Walking further into the room, Harvey pulled out his chair and sat. 

“Sorry it took so long boys, had some personal matters to attend to,” he said, unbuttoning his coat and pulling out a cigarette. He looked at you, an expectant look on his face. 

Rolling your eyes, you leaned over his body the leather skirt riding up your ass. Reaching into his coat, you pulled out the lighter and lit the cig in his mouth. He knew you hated it when he smoked, but he couldn’t deny how unbelievably hot it was to watch you light them for him. 

Taking a drag, he blew out the smoke, his eyes not leaving you. “Thanks, baby doll,” he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips. Glancing to the side, he didn’t miss the looks Roman and Oswald were giving you. Wanting to prove that you were untouchable, he reached forward toying with the golden chain of your top. 

“Why don’t you go get daddy a drink?” he asked, brushing the skin of your breasts with his finger ever so lightly. 

“Yes sir, Mr. Dent.” you winked, standing straight. As you turned to pour him a drink, Harvey grinned and slapped your ass, earning a light squeal from you. 

Roman’s eyes narrowed in on the sway of your ass as you walked, what he wouldn’t give for an hour alone with you. Leaning on the arm of his chair, his gaze raked over your body lingering on your exposed breasts. He swore Dent brought you along just to brag, not that he would complain. The sweet image of you bent over the arm of the chair was enough to satiate his wants for the time being. 

Harvey narrowed his eyes, “Something on your mind Sionis?” 

You walked back over, Harvey’s scotch in your hand not ignoring the looks all the men in the room were giving you. Taking a sip of it yourself, you handed it to him, your lipstick staining the glass. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing with an ugly bastard like Harv?” Roman asked, a grin forming on his face. 

“More than you could ever imagine,” Harvey responded, glaring him down. 

Roman leaned back in his chair, his dark eyes watching you intently. Snapping his fingers to get your attention, he grinned. “How about a Kinky Blow Job, princess.” 

Harvey looked as if he was about to explode, gripping the arms of the chair he was in. Roman caught his gaze, not missing your flustered state at his bold request. “I mean the drink, Dent. Your girl should know how to do a Kinky Blow Job right? Or were those personal matters over a Juicy Pussy?”

Not wanting to be rude, you walked over and made the drink Roman requested. If you weren’t so well versed in various drink names this would have been a very awkward position. Mixing the pink drink, you put a straw in it before making your way over to Roman. 

His gaze alone was enough to give you shivers, Roman watched your movements like he was waiting for the right time to strike and make you his meal. 

“Here you go, Mr. Sionis.” 

Roman reached for the drink, his cold hand brushing yours ever so slightly sending shivers down your spine. “What’s the matter, princess, too cold? I know a way or two to warm my fingers up.” he winked. 

Pulling your hand back, you could feel Harvey burning holes into Roman’s chest as he continued to openly flirt with you not bothering to turn his gaze away from your exposed chest. 

“Will that be all, Mr. Sionis?” you asked, clasping your hands behind your back.

Deciding he had enough fun, he waved you away before looking at Harvey. “Such a polite little thing, how long did it take you to train her?” he asked, sipping his drink. 

The second you were close enough, Harvey grabbed your waist and pulled you down to rest on his knee. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he threatened, placing a kiss to the back of your throat. Your hand came to rest on his knee, squeezing gently as he bit into the soft flesh of your shoulder enough to leave a mark. 

“It’s a joke, Dent.” Roman chuckled, “Lighten up some,”

You felt his hand wrap around your middle, securing you against his chest resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“Both of ya, shut the ‘ell up and play the fuckin’ game!” Oswald snapped, dueling out the cards. “Buch o’ bloody wankers.” 

Picking up the cards dealt to him, Harvey kept you close. There was no way in hell he was letting anyone, especially Roman get their grubby hands on you. Looking at his cards, he reached into his coat and pulled out a wad of bills. 

“Put half of that on the table for me baby doll,” he said, eyeing you as your body arched over to toss half the wad on the table. Handing it back to him, he took the bills, grinning as he stuffed them into your top. “Why don’t you keep that safe for me?” 

“Yes, sir Mr. Dent.” you breathed, feeling his fingers lightly brush against your nipples through the top.

Content with your reaction, Harvey leaned back in his seat as you turned and draped your legs across his lap. Placing his hand on your knees, he pulled you close. Watching his hand, he glanced at the other two before setting his cards down. 

“What’s with that look Dent, confident or scared you’ll lose?” Roman called, glancing up from his cards. 

“What, worried you’ll lose to me?” 

“I thought you liked to leave things to chance or was that all an act?” 

Harvey didn’t like the fact Roman was trying to goad him into betting more money. Looking at his cards again, he still had a high chance to win. Turning to look at you, Harvey slid a finger into your top and pulled it back enough to pull out the bills and toss them onto the table. 

You weren’t happy he fell for Roman’s obvious ploy at trying to rile him up. These poker games were meant to be simple fun between crime lords, but you knew how dangerous they could be. One second they were betting money, and the second someone’s ego got fluffed they gambled away their firstborn child. 

Hours passed, and you watched as they played through three games already and dealt out the fourth and final round. Each man won a round each, and this one was to take home the cake to prove who was the best poker player. Roman had a dangerous glint in his eyes, and you didn’t like the results that could come of that.

Oswald was oddly the most generous of the three, offering you free champagne and even a platter of sandwiches that were prepared just for you. 

Harvey however, refused to let you off his lap. He worried the second he let go, you would disappear. It said a lot when he didn’t trust his own men with you, but he trusted Roman and Oswald’s men even less. 

“Final round boys, ‘ow ‘bout we up the stakes?” Oswald asked, tossing the final few cards. 

Roman grinned, his teeth a shocking white against the dark of the room. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a folded piece of paper with his handwriting scrawled across it. “One free night with any girl of your choosing from my club.” Tossing the paper onto the table, his gaze turned to Oswald. 

“Up that, you old bird.” 

“Shut up!” Oswald thought long and hard, he didn’t have anything like that to bet. He didn’t dabble in sex clubs or prostitutes. He had more class than that, but he did have something a lot of people sought after. 

Pulling a piece of paper out, he wrote his offer illegible from your distance. True to form, Oswald Cobblepott had chicken scratch handwriting. 

“One free night, in the private secluded box in the Iceberg Lounge. Enough for you and two guests.” 

Nodding appreciatively, Roman smiled and turned his gaze to you and Harvey. His smile didn’t waver one bit, as if he knew what was about to happen next. “What are you going to bet, Dent? It seems money isn’t an option, fuck knows we have plenty of it.” 

“He could bet tha’ little ‘ore of ‘is?” 

Harvey’s grip tightened on your waist, holding you protectively against him. 

“What’s the matter Dent, I thought you were confident in your card skills?” Roman grinned, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. 

“No.” he growled. “She isn’t for sale.” 

“Oh come on Dent, why don’ you let the coin decide?” Oswald chuckled, knowing full well what Harvey would do. 

You watched as he reached into his pocket, toying with his coin between his fingers. 

“Harvey, you can’t be serious?” you asked, muttering into his ear. “I thought you said I wasn’t for sale, remember?” 

“Relax doll,” he said, turning his gaze to you. Harvey knew it was reckless, but he couldn’t refuse what the coin decides. “Have a little faith in me,” 

You watched with wide eyes as he set the standard. Heads, it was a no. Tails, you were to be placed on the betting table. The deal was one night, equal to that of the others and you had more than monetary value to Harvey. Or so you hoped. 

Flipping the coin, you held your breath watching as he caught it and flipped it onto the back of his hand to reveal the damaged side of his double-sided coin. 

Your voice died in your throat, looking at him with a concerned look. 

“You fucking asshole,” you snapped getting off his lap to stand behind him. There was no way you could watch this hand play out, not when your virtue was on the line. 

“Now that the bets have been placed, let’s play some cards, boys.” Roman grinned and began the round, his eyes not leaving your figure once. 

The next twenty minutes were some of the most agonizing twenty minutes of your life. You watched in worry as Harvey played the game. His hand was pretty good, but did that mean it was better than the others? At some point, you had to stop watching, the anxiety making it too much to bear knowing your fate rested in the cards. Biting your nail, you watched as they finally folded and waited for the results. 

Oswald flipped his card, showing that he had a full house. Not bad, but there were higher hands to play that could win.

Roman chuckled, flipping his cards over to reveal a four of a kind all in diamonds. That was a pretty damn good hand, if Harvey didn’t have a better hand it seemed you would be going home with Roman Sionis spending your night filled with Kinky Blow Jobs and Juicy Pussies. You couldn’t deny the man oozed sex appeal, but you wanted it on your terms and not from a fucking poker game. 

Clenching your fists, you watched as Harvey tsked and turned his cards to reveal a straight flush. “Sorry boys, but Y/N is going home with me tonight.” 

You watched Roman clench his jaw, irritated at the fact he lost a night with you all to himself. Getting from his seat, he put a hand in his pocket and adjusted his cigar. “Well played Dent, next time maybe you won’t be so lucky.” 

Both Oswald and Harvey got to their feet and shook hands. “Good game gentlemen, same time next month?” 

Harvey put all of his stuff into a bag before walking over to you. He didn’t miss the glare you were giving him, nor did he miss the way Roman sauntered up to you taking your hand and pulling you closer. 

“Such a shame to miss out on a night with you, princess. Maybe Dent will bring you along again next time and we’ll see what happens then.” He pulled your hand up to his lips, placing a kiss to your smooth skin. 

Giving him a hard glare, you bit your cheek. “You may be nice on the eyes Mr. Sionis, but you might want to remember you can’t buy the best things in life.” you snapped, pulling your hand away. “And I don’t come cheap.” 

Harvey bit his lip to hide his chuckle at the sight of Roman’s face. Walking over he wrapped an arm around your waist, planting a hand firmly on your ass. He knew you were pissed at him, it seemed he had a lot to make up for. 

“Later boys,” he called walking out with you on his side. As a silent promise, his large hand gripped your ass roughly while you walked, the skirt riding up to expose the underside of your cheek and black thong. 

“That fucker,” Roman growled, walking out himself. 

***

Harvey led you back to the car, where your driver and security detail waited. 

“You have a lot of groveling ahead of you Dent if you even think about sleeping in the same bed tonight.” 

Leaning to press soft kisses to your throat, Harvey wrapped both arms around you as he kissed your collar. “How about I start right now,” he muttered against your skin. “I know how much you love being fucked in the backseat.” 

Gripping his hair, you tipped your head back breathing heavily from his onslaught of kisses and public display. His hands wandered lower, toying with the bottom of your skirt as he pressed you against the car door. 

“You’re lucky you’re hot.”

Harvey grinned against your skin, before looking at the driver. “You go ahead with security, I have some business to attend to.” he grabbed the keys and unlocked the door, pulling away long enough to watch you slide in and spread your legs for him to see your dripping cunt on full display to him and anyone else around. Sucking in a harsh breath, he dove in after you and shut the door, locking it behind him. 

His lips were on yours in an instant, hips prying your legs further apart, the skirt bunched up to give him access. Harvey mumbled soft apologies against your skin as he left open-mouthed kisses across your collar. His hands danced across your thighs, as they made their way up to your pussy. 

Letting out a sigh, you arched your back feeling him swipe through your folds moaning at the sudden contact. His fingers entered into you, quickly stretching your hole to accommodate his cock to impatient to take his time with you. 

Gripping the leather of the seat, you moaned his name. “Harvey! Please!” 

Hearing your cries, his hand continued to thrust in and out of your pussy before pulling back and undoing his belt. Quick to pull out his cock, he fisted it several times watching you writhe and drip onto the leather beneath you. 

“Hold on baby doll,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you.” Gripping your hips, Harvey pushed your thong to the side and thrusted into you, bottoming out in two strokes. 

Your body spasmed, trying to take in all you were feeling. Sinful moans left your lips feeling him stretch you perfectly as he picked up the pace. All you could hear over your ragged breath was Harvey’s hushed apologies as his hips rutted into yours followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass.

You could feel the car rock back and forth from the force of his thrusts, Harvey desperate to make you cum. Reaching down, his thumb played with your clit making you tip your head back and kick against the door. 

“Oh fuck, Harvey!” you cried, gripping the back of his shirt. “I-I’m so close, baby. So close.” 

Hearing you gasp for air, Harvey thrusted harder into you knocking the air back out of your lungs watching as silent moans left your perfect lips. Your jaw was slack and your eyes rolled back at the feeling of Harvey driving into you. 

Swearing as your walls clench around him, Harvey moaned your name, continuing his pace. “You look so perfect,” he praised. “So fucking perfect as your pretty pussy takes my cock.” 

Feeling the build-up, your thighs tensed around his waist while you clawed at his shirt. 

“Fuck! Harvey, I’m gonna--” your words were cut off by a loud moan as you came on his cock, feeling it drip down your exposed ass. 

Thrusting into you twice more, Harvey buried his cock inside you as he came, marking you as his as your mixed juices pooled beneath you. The smell of sex filled the car, as he continued to place kisses all over your body. 

Panting heavily, you pulled his head up to kiss him. “Oh fuck…” you muttered, resting back against the car seats. Harvey looked down at you, pressing kisses to your cheek. 

“Let me take you home doll, really make it up to you.” 

Barely hearing his words, you nodded and closed your eyes. Feeling him pull out of you, you whined at the loss of contact before feeling his lips on your neck. Letting out a hiss, you tilted your head to the side feeling him suck the skin between his teeth really marking you as his this time. 

Tucking himself back into his pants, Harvey climbed into the front seat and started the car before driving off. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw you splayed across the back seat recovering from the orgasm he just gave you. He saw your lipstick smeared across his lips, chuckling at the thought of how fucked out he must look. 

You could still feel the ache Harvey left between your legs, begging to be used again. Reaching down, you slipped two fingers into your pussy trying to convince yourself that it was Harvey. The ache resided some, but it wasn't enough. 

“Harvey…” you whined, bucking your hips into your hand. “Please!”

Glancing at you in the mirror, Harvey swallowed hard as he watched your toy with yourself while begging for him. “I’m going doll, wait until we get home.” his voice strained, trying to keep himself from driving into traffic. 

Sliding a hand up, you gripped your own breast and played with your nipple through the top, continuing to finger yourself. “I want to feel you, baby, please! It’s too much!” 

Going faster than the speed limit, Harvey palmed his growing bulge as he listened to the squelching of your fingers pumping your mixed juices back into you. With every whine and moan, his pants got tighter until it was so painful he couldn’t focus. 

Pulling into the garage, he all but jumped out of the car before walking over to the door and pulling it open to see you fucking yourself until you came. Loud moans left your lips, echoing across the garage as Harvey watched you pull your fingers out and lick them clean. 

“Holy fucking shit doll,” he muttered, pulling you out of the car. Kicking the door shut, he helped you balance on your feet before leading you up to the bedroom, his hands not leaving your body once. 

“When we get there, I’ll make it all up to you,” he promised, muttering against your shoulder. “I’ll worship every inch of you, give you a special gift and everything.” His hands roamed your body, reveling in the way you shivered under his touch. He’ll make you forget all about his stupid bet, and make you feel so good you won’t want to leave the bed.

Leaning into his touch, you walked with him as he opened the door. “You still have a lot of apologizing left to do, better get started.”

Harvey hummed into your shoulder, leading you towards the bedroom of your lavish apartment. Entering the room, he led you to the mirror and held you against his chest. You watched his hands as they traveled up your body before grabbing your breasts through your top and giving them a tight squeeze. 

“You’ve been teasing me all night with this fucking top,” he grumbled, listening to your airy breaths as he played with your breasts. “Who the fuck thought it was legal to sell you this shirt?” 

“The sales per-person,” you gasped, leaning into his touch. Feeling him pinch your nipples, you hissed pressing your ass into his crotch. 

Keeping a hand on your breasts, the other slid down your body sending little bolts of electricity everywhere he touched you. “And this fucking skirt, so fucking tight around your little ass everyone was looking at what belongs to me.” 

His lips trailed from your shoulder up to your cheek, not taking his eyes from your flustered form. You could see his eyes burning into yours as you turned your face to meet his lips in a passionate kiss.

You felt his hands slide the skirt off of you, the leather pooling at your feet. Trailing over the soft skin of your stomach, he pulled at the top trying to get it off you. You could tell Harvey was getting impatient, so you pulled away from the kiss and guided his hands into taking it off your body. 

Standing in front of the mirror in nothing but your black thong and heels, you couldn’t help but admire Harvey’s hands as they traced over every inch of you he could reach. Slowly, you stepped out of your heels as Harvey’s fingers dipped into the straps and began to pull the thong down your hips. 

Kneeling as he pulled it down, Harvey nipped lightly at your ass causing you to jump in surprise letting out a little squeal. Chuckling at your surprise, Harvey got back on his feet turning you to look at him. 

“How about a present for the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen?” he asked, holding you against him. 

Biting your lip, you gave him a nod as he led you over to the bed and made you sit. 

“Stay put,” then he walked off and disappeared to get whatever it was he was going to give you.

It took a few minutes for him to come back, holding three boxes all wrapped in deep red bows. What could Harvey have gotten you this time? The last time he decided to give you something, it was the deed to a whole island that he named after you. 

No one got to see this side of Harvey Dent, the side that truly loved you and strived to prove it with extravagant gifts, expensive trips, and more. 

Giving him a playful look, You watched as he knelt before you and placed the boxes at your feet. Pressing a kiss to your knee, he handed you the first box. “Go ahead, open it.” 

Taking the package from his hands, you lifted the top off and pushed back the tissue paper. Pulling the item out, you saw that it was a black and white lace lingerie set, complete with garter belts. Holding it up, you looked at Harvey to see his delight in you liking the first gift. 

“Oh Harvey, it’s beautiful.” you praised holding it against the expanse of your body. 

“I’d say try it on, but why don’t we save it for another night?” he chuckled, watching you move the box to the side only for him to place another on your lap. 

Giving him a look, you could tell this one was heavier than the last and that probably meant it cost more. Pulling off the lid and unwrapping it, you saw that it was a beautiful necklace with several strands of pearls strung across. 

You gasped, holding it up and looking at him. “Harvey, what did I say about expensive gifts?” 

“That cost nowhere as much as the island.” he smiled. “I thought I could get some pearls for my favorite girl.” Leaning up, he took it from you and clasped it around your neck watching as they cascaded down your chest and over your breasts. 

“Perfect,” he muttered, kissing your cheek. 

Turning your head to meet his lips, you pulled him into a kiss running your fingers through his hair. The cold pearls sent shivers across your body as Harvey pressed himself against you. “Baby doll-- fuck.” he chuckled, feeling your hands trail over his chest trying to unbutton his shirt. “I still have one more present for you,” 

“That can wait until you’re done apologizing,” you grinned, sliding his shirt off his shoulders. 

Harvey gripped your waist, lifting you higher onto the bed as he crawled over you. “I was hoping you’d use it as an apology,” he groaned against your lips as you continued to undress him. 

Your fingers danced along the waist of his pants as you unbuttoned them, sliding them down his legs. Raking your nails over his exposed skin, you helped him out of his pants and boxers moaning as you felt his mouth kiss everywhere he could reach. 

Moving down your body, he kissed every inch until he got to your hips. Nuzzling your skin, he bit into you leaving teeth marks on your hip. Harvey loved to see you all marked up, further proving that you belonged to him and no one else. 

Making his way further down, he propped your thighs over his shoulders and sucked on the supple skin enjoying the taste of your mixed juices and sweat. Leaving a trail of bruises up your thigh, Harvey licked between your folds holding your hips down as you cried out.

“Oh, Harvey!” Your hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer as he continued to lick you clean. Your hips continued to move against his face, as he brushed your clit with his nose. 

Harvey’s tongue sent jolts all through your body, overwhelmed by the feeling of his ministrations through your folds. Your toes curled, feeling him enter a finger into you slowly pumping it in and out of you. 

Moaning against your cunt, Harvey added a second finger pumping them in and out of you at a sensual pace wanting you to feel every bit of it. 

“Please!” you gasped, pulling at his hair. “Please don’t stop,” 

Hearing you beg made him chuckle, the vibrations against your clit sending you closer and closer to the edge. Between his warm tongue and cool fingers, Harvey had you dangling over the cliff as if he was daring you to let go. 

You let out a scream feeling him brush the bundle of nerves with the pad of his fingers, massaging it until your throat was raw from your screaming. Glancing up at you, Harvey grinned seeing you so lost in the pleasure he was giving you. 

“Fuck!” you tugged on his hair harshly, earning a soft moan from his lips sending more little shocks into you as he laid claim to your pussy. “Harvey! Baby-- oh! Don’t stop!” you pleaded, digging your heels into his back. 

Curing his fingers again, he felt your walls spasm around him as you came coating his hand and face in your juices. Your voice echoed around the room from crying out his name, relaxing back into the bed. 

Harvey’s face was still buried between your thighs, refusing to quit. 

“Come on doll, cum on my face again.” he groaned, peeking up at you. You looked to see your cum smeared across his lips and chin, continuing to finger you trying to coax your body into another orgasm. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, getting back to it. You couldn’t hear much over the ringing in your ears, but you swore you heard the words ‘favorite meal’ leave his lips as he licked you clean. 

“H-Harv-- oh fuck! I-I can’t..” you whined, feeling yourself being brought up again. 

“You can do it, I know you can baby doll.” he muttered against your body, “Give me another, and I’ll fuck you properly until you beg me to stop.” 

His words made your head swim, the thought of his cock buried within you while feeling like this was enough to make you cum again, screaming his name. 

Harvey lapped up every drop he could, making sure he licked your pussy clean only for him to defile it again. Unable to take anymore, you pulled his head up and over to kiss you. You could taste your arousal on his tongue as it mingled with yours in your mouth. 

His hands placed themselves on your breasts, kneading them as the pearls rolled around his hands and towards your cleavage. Harvey enjoyed seeing you wear nothing but the pearls, as they bounced around your breasts while you moved.

Not wanting to waste another second, Harvey lifted his hips before thrusting into you again. Your tight cunt was enough to make his hips stutter, feeling your velvet walls wrapped around his cock. 

“Fuck doll,” he muttered against your lips. “You feel so fuckin--” his breath caught in his throat feeling you pulse around his shaft, cutting off his words before picking up the pace. You were nothing more than a blissful fucked out mess as Harvey continued to drive his hips into yours. 

Feeling the ecstasy build up, you dug your nails into his back leaving marks that would last for days. 

“Harvey!”

Not able to get out anything but his name, your body succumbed to the intense feeling as another orgasm took over you leaving you gasping for air. 

Burying his face in your shoulder, Harvey continued to thrust into you before cumming deep within you. Unable to take anymore, he let his body collapse against yours, melting together covered in sweat and cum. 

Brushing your hair out of your eyes, he cupped your face and looked at you. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and Harvey would never understand what you saw in an asshole like him. Carefully, he lifted his hips and pulled out before lying next to you. 

Turning your head, you gave him a soft smile and kissed his lips. Wrapping his arms around you, Harvey pulled you close enjoying the warmth of your body. 

“Did I do good enough?” he asked, brushing his lips against yours. 

“Apology accepted,” 

Taglist: @catxsnow @niggxrette @subtleappreciation @littleredwing89 @offendedfishnoises @angstigone @batarella @alienstardust @illzarr @foenixphire​

[quicksiluers]

Wesley Merritt was the quintessential dragoon. He was quiet, competent, and a hard-fighting career Regular. Nobody would ever describe him as flamboyant or as hell-bent-for-leather. Instead, he was solid and dependable. Like his mentor John Buford, Merritt believed that cavalrymen needed to be equally proficient at fighting as well as at the less glamorous roles of the cavalry. His soldiers admired and respected him, but they did not love him. Merritt was something of a martinet, and did not have a charismatic personality. He was, however, a great soldier, and he ended his career after 40 years of service as the second-highest-ranking officer in the Army.

By contrast, George Armstrong Custer was the ultimate hussar. Flamboyant, handsome, with his long, curly blond hair streaming behind him, nothing thrilled Custer quite so much as leading a mounted charge, his saber glinting in the afternoon sunshine while waiting to be brought to bear against some unfortunate foeman. The men in the ranks loved George Custer. They called him the “Boy Soldier with the Golden Locks,” and they would follow him anywhere he led them. There is no better description of Custer than to call him a hell-bent-for-leather trooper...Custer had no particular talent for the traditional roles of cavalry, and if given a choice, he preferred the saber to dismounting and fighting with a carbine. He always led from the front.

These two young men-Merritt and Custer-were a year apart at West Point and ought to have been friends. Both were career cavalrymen, and both left indelible marks on the mounted service during the Civil War. And yet, they became bitter rivals and even enemies. In short, their personal relationship was a microcosm of the tension between the hussars and the dragoons. There were only so many opportunities for advancement, and only so many opportunities for glory, and both gained their fair share of each. Somewhere along the way their relationship deteriorated to the point of open warfare, particularly when Merritt ascended over Custer as commander of the Army of the Potomac's First Cavalry Division. 

The Boy Generals: George Custer, Wesley Merritt, and the Cavalry of the Army of the Potomac by Adolfo Ovies

[slashingdisneypasta]

Kurt Kelly x Fem!Bitch!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Someone Gets Hurt

Plot: Some little wannabe steals away your boyfriend, Kurt, while also batting her big ass lashes and winning over your friends, too... until you've had enough. No one out bitches you.

Notes:

Obviously, this is inspired by Someone Gets Hurt from Mean Girls except with Regina (The reader) as the heroine.

Warnings: Overall bitchiness, possessiveness (You about Kurt), break ups (Make ups too though so its not too bad ^^), the ruining of another persons relationship (Random girl Lizzie and Kurt's), rapeiness (Ram), sexual references, underage drinking, overage drinking, just LOTS of debauchery over all, a smut bit near the end (Not full), etc.

Was I too proud with you? Was I too cold and forbidding? And you chose her over me Are you kidding?

Watching Kurt and Lizzie together this week has been torture. Terrible, burning, squeezing, not-at-all sexy torture.

Because Kurt, is yours.

He has always been yours. He was yours in kindergarten, he was yours in middle school, and he was yours all through highschool until this, unfortunate and butt fucking ugly, snag. Crossing your arms now and poisoning them with your eyes, you sit in the cafeteria... and think.

Just, think.

You don't gossip with your minions about all the bullshit going on in school, you don't discuss what you're going to do to the freshmen this year, no. Nothing. You're too busy... plotting.

There is no way in hell, that this pee-brained virgin bitch is going to steal your boyfriend, and not get paid back in turn. Its only fair- and you include interest, in your transactions like this.

One eye actually twitches, when Lizzie... the pee brained virgin bitch in question, gives Kurt a peck on the nose - oh so cute, but you don't even have to look at Kurt to see the disappointment flash in his eyes, - and hops off his lap when the bell rings. He has a free period now, you know because so do you and you usually spend it at the back of the football field together, but she has Chemistry, a thing you also know because hell- you just know everything. That's a basic fact. The whole school knows it and love that you never have to explain how you just fucking know shit.

But even being all knowing does not make you feel better, knowing that itty bitty roach-cunt has her claws embedded in your poor, weak-willed... ex boyfriends,... heart. Or his penis, more likely. Metaphorically speaking, obviously, because Lizzie's the 'Mary'est whore in the land of Westerberg High.

That doesn't really matter though. Either way, he's with her now and not you, and that just wont do.

Maggie, your right hand babe, gets up from your lunch table and leaves for her next class, too. And its only until she's out of sight, that you notice the piece of paper she left behind. Rolling your eyes, a growl of annoyance escapes you and you sigh- turning away from Kurt and Ram's table to see what the fuck it is. The reprieve is almost palpable, not looking at him anymore. It feels a little better- but not by much. And certainly not enough for you to forget what fuckery is going on.

Picking up the piece of paper in one perfectly manicured hand, you see that its an invitation. "Hmm... " Worrying the inside of your cheek, you think; This is interesting.

A Halloween party...

A gleeful smirk quirks slightly at the corners of your lips.

Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween.

~

And what you meant by 'Kurt always did have a thing for Halloween'- is 'Kurt always did have a boner for your Halloween costumes'. For the past several years, since the two of you blossomed with the help of puberty, you have used your assets as an advantage - because why else have them? - ; With the help of lace tights, push up bra's, winged eyeliner and red lipstick.

This year you've pulled together your favourite costume yet, which is fitting for the task at hand and the fact that its senior year- this may be your last chance to put these bottom dwelling highschool chuckleheads in their place.

I mean, you hope not but its basically a given.

Looking around the party as you walk in, you figure its just the same as any party Ram has thrown before. And his house is perfect for it, you'll give him that. The lights a turned down low enough that everyone looks a little hot, cooler's full of ice and alcohol are set up so you're never too far from a fix and thanks to his houses sound system the music is loud enough to make you think for a couple hours that you're in a place between reality and your dreams; A perfect set up for mistakes and one wild night.

But you aren't here to get drunk and kiss a loser, except for Kurt; You're here to take back the goddamn crown. Which getting Kurt back, will do. It'll humiliate Lizzie, and that's really all you want out of life right now.

Prowling through the crowd - which still knows to part for you, despite your current, slightly lower social standing, - in your knee high, shiny black leather boots, you look for someone to talk to. You know Maggie's here somewhere but that bitch is on her last life with you, after she said Lizzie's hair looked nice the other day. And you think some silent treatment will set her straight.

"Oh- Hi Ram." You find the host in the backyard, about to push an unsuspecting demoness into in a very sheer red blouse into the pool - which would doubtlessly make the blouse more of a red tint to her skin rather then any kind of coverage, which Ram well knows, - , and he double takes when he sees you. A sleazy, mischievous grin slops over his face at the sight, which makes you roll your eyes.

Deeply.

"Ohhh, heyyyy, Y/N!" He has to yell over the sound of the music and the other party-goers, not that you would mind if you didn't hear anything he said. He hasn't got a whole lot of substance, Ram, so you can basically assume that rolling your eyes is always the answer to anything he's saying. His eyes shift back, anxiously, to the girl he's currently got a hit out on, but you just raise your eyebrows sharply at him and he's at attention. "I didn't know you were gonna come! You know, with the state of things... "

Oh, he's so obnoxious. And dumb! So, so dumb. He doesn't know the half of your shit. Yet he still runs his mouth... Rolling your eyes once again, you flip some hair behind your head. "Oh don't worry your pretty little head about that, Ram." Eyes flickering around the party some more, searching for your own target, you rest your hands on your hips that are tightly bound, in various layers of violet georgette cloth. The witches hat on your head is pinned down, so theirs no chance of it flying off. You have a train of thinner fabric hanging down the back of your short-short skirt, and your tight tube top reveals exactly the shapes you require it to. "I'll be perfectly fine- oh, have you seen Kurt anywhere?"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh I think I saw him and Liz against a wall earlier- but by the looks of Liz, I doubt they're in a situation like that anymore." He chuckles, dumbly. The stupid boy has a slur in his voice that you hadn't noticed before but probably should've known would be there. But you're sure focusing in on him now, jealousy burning in your eyes at his description. What does that mean??

"What?"

A geek walks by, toting a bottle in his hands that Ram snatches for himself. As the kid continues by, faster now due to the angry look in Ram's eyes and the animalistic growl that slips from the footballers lips, you continue to glare bullets at Ram. He takes a messy swig of his beer before continuing. "Just sayin', Y/N. Your friend's a prude. Won' even let Kurt get to second base with 'er or anything. So I'd say Kurt's, probably, uhhh... by the pool table, now." He shrugs big round shoulders then, as relief and mirth wash over you. So he didn't mean they'd have moved their dirty little adventure to somewhere they could really get down, or anything. He means quite the opposite.

A smirk graces your red painted lips.

"Well- enjoy your party." You shrug, not really caring as his eyes shine... turning back to the demon girl who's just laughing with her friends; He sure will. Eyes narrowing, you mutter a bitter "Dick." under your breath, as a final bid to Ram.

Turning on your heel, you head back into the house. You've been here plenty of times with Kurt and know exactly where the pool table is (And how uncomfortable it is to be bent over) and sure enough- there he is.

Your boyfriend.

Or, soon-to-be, once-again boyfriend.

He's standing back with a stick, waiting for his turn as he laughs with some over football boneheads. Lizzie isn't here, but you suppose she could have gone to get a drink or talk to one her - your, - friends, but where she is actually doesn't concern your in this moment. All you can do right now, is stand and stare.

God, he's hot.

You miss him; You really do. And, admittedly- not just because he can fuck you like no one else.

But your moment passes, and you gather your wits. Ready.

You're hot, you're smart, and you're ruthless. You can do this.

Saddling up beside Kurt, a genuine smile slips across your face as you look up at him; Running a hand back through your hair. "Hey, Kurt." Slightly widening your eyes, you raise a brow as he turns to look down at you. "What's up?"

Like- its been a while. What have I missed?

Immediate 'Oooooh's and 'Oh no the ex- Kurt watch out!'s erupt from his meathead athlete friends, but what you care about is how Kurt struggles for a moment to tear his eyes away from yours, like the eyeliner you perfected and the colour and the just- you, has hypnotised him. He flashes his friends a wicked grin, waiving them off as he turns to put his body between you, and the group. It puts you so close together- and you sure don't step back any.

Then his eyes flicker down to the rest of you- and he really has a problem looking away. "Oh, uh, hey Y/N. N-nothing much. Uh... you look... "

A gentle chuckle flutters out of you, resting a hand on your right hip. "What? Black cat caught your tongue?"

Jesus- even the mention of that particular muscle reference to him does something to you. And being this close to him again, and seeing his reaction to your outfit... its all just so right. The way things should be.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but immediately closes it again on remembering something. A seriously awkward hm sound escapes him which you don't quite get yet, but you decide that you don't need to.

"So... " You start, getting rid of the tough bravado suddenly... letting awkwardness seep into your tone; Your appearance. On purpose. Eyes downcast, you let your arms slide down to your sides again, lacing your fingers together in front of you for a moment, pretending you're at a loss for words. "Um... maybe this is... weird... "

"What?" A big hand ghosts over your hip- you can just feel his skin graze against you.

You look up to catch his gaze again suddenly, lips and eyebrows scrunching after a moment, unsurely. "Uh, well... " Chewing innocently on your bottom lip, you hold your arms behind your back; not-at-all meaning to push out your chest more. No, not at all... "Me coming up to talk to you... since the break up... "

A hiss escapes him, as he suddenly, seemingly, like just seeing you had him returning to old habits, remembers that fact himself and takes a step back from you. Your brows knit together, up at him- perfectly pitiful.

"Oh man- yeah. Maybe. Fuck!" He runs a hand up through his hair, looking convincingly tortured.

Already!

You could rejoice.

Oh, Kurt... we've only just started.

Sighing, you look away again. "Look, I'm sorry. I just... well, Kurt, I've missed you!"

Suddenly his eyes, still and focused, turn more sternly down on you and your insides squirm at it. Like muscle memory, your body screams for you to back up; Get on your knees, bat your lashes. Ask what's wrong, Daddy?

His eyes narrow, and you resist the temptation to smirk. "Oh- no. No, Y/N. I know what you're doing, okay? I'm not dumb! This is all just too... too... " The fact that he cant even really speak, even as he's trying to be all tough and put up walls between you two, really gives you confidence. You must still really have an effect on him- as you should. Of course you do. One week with a little lily livered slut bag does not erase an entire lifetime between two people. Kurts lips curl into a scowl. "You're not like this." He states, and you raise your brows. Oh? "You're manipulating me, aren't you? Come on, Y/N!"

His tone is pleading. He's begging, you.

Damn, he must really want Miss Lizzie's little ass.

After a moment, you shrug. "Okay, whatever, you got me." Shedding the innocent act, you lean back on the pool table as the boys continue to play; Laying yourself out for him. "Does that mean I was lying? No, I really do miss you."

He scoffs. "Yeah, right." Rolling his own eyes, he focuses his gaze off somewhere else in the party- rather then on you. "All you care about is your reign of terror."

Oh... he knows that's not true.

But still, if he's going to play that way- "Yeah, sure- and all you care about is pussy." Shrugging, you drum your fingers bordly against the edge of the table on either side of you. "I guess we're a pair."

"Fuck, Y/N... you know you're... y-you're... Damn, that I love you. You fucking know that." He hisses, getting mad. And you inwardly smirk.

There it is...

Tightening your grip now, you look up at him to see he's once again looking at you. And for a moment, amongst all the madness that party's are- it feels like its just you two. "And you know... I love you."

Pushing off the pool table, you stalk towards him and trace your hands up his chest; Locking your arms around his neck lazily, and resting your chest against his. And you can see it. You can see, the struggle inside him about whether to just give into you- and your tits and your lips and your hips, and- just, you! Or to stay away. Because you're poison; Even you're well aware of that fact.

You're like a boa constrictor. You get yourself wrapped around your victim and you squeeze, and squeeze, and squeeze... until you have them just how you want them. Moulded into a shape that works well, for you.

But he's a lion. Imposing, and selfish, and self serving. And too big for you to ruin.

Its like you said; You're a pair.

And you cannot give him up.

"Kurt... come on." Leaning up, and talking in a quiet, just-for-him voice now, your lips brush against his and he lets out a shuddering breath. "We belong together, don't we? Its us- forever. You've known it since second grade. Sure, it took me a few more years to realise it too, but we're here now." Sincerity bleeds into your tone; Something you can't help when he looks like he wants to kiss you so badly, like that. "It can't be you and her." It cant. Tilting your head to the side, teasingly, you smirk mischievously; Just for him. "Is she going to fuck you like I do?"

"Shit... " Kurt mutters, eyes stuck on your lips. His hands find your waist, gathering you up against him roughly like he always does when he just wants you. Animalistically, wherever you are- whoever sees be fucking damned.

But he still isn't taking you. And that's a problem.

Brushing a thumb over his bottom lip, you turn your head like your making out to kiss him- but don't. Furrowing your eyebrows, you look pleading at him for an answer. "Was it all a lie, then? With us? Were we?- "

And that does it- he's had enough- he's at boiling point- Lips smash into yours, crossing the centimetre of space between them and he doesn't fuss around at all, to warm up. Your tongues connect almost instantly, and in 0.2 seconds, you two are that moaning, making out mess couple that every party has.

Through your lust filled haze, you can just about feel victorious.

A few moments after that your back hits the closest wall, and your legs wrap around his waist as he holds you up- you two know the drill by now. Kurt's grinding his raging hard on deliciously through his jeans into your bare cunt- moaning and muttering something into your cheek as he sloppily makes his way down to your breasts about you being such a slut.

You REALLY don't mind.

Eyes half lidded, you catch sight of Lizzie in the crowd behind Kurt. The crowd that, apart from her, doesn't care at all what the two of you are doing.

You smirk absolutely evilly towards her, before mouthing 'mine'.

[comewithmeintothedeep]

Monster Lore (Mythology) - Mobile

Creatures that originate from a cultural mythology or legend.

Demons

Demons are creatures that come from the depths of Hell itself.

They are either born there or are created from the souls of particularly wicked people who die and are sent to Hell. Those that are made are typically weaker than naturally born demons and don’t become anything more than imps or minor demons.

There is a hierarchy in demons in terms of power. Imps are the lowest level of demons.

Imps are typically unaligned. They don’t serve a particular lord, demon, or entity and act on their own ends or the general ends of Hell. Their motivations can range from the outwardly wicked to the benign. Many are simply tricksters who enjoy causing mischief. Some demons are more powerful than others, capable of shapeshifting at will.

Many demons prey on humans for various reasons. They are easily corruptible and can be bent to their whims. Demons such as incubi and succubi seek out humans to engage in sexual activity with them to drain them of their life and accumulate more power for themselves.

Even demons who don’t deliberately seek out sex to further their own power often engage in sexual activity with humans out of curiosity. After all, it’s much easier to corrupt someone when you’re close enough to bed them.

Many demons typically target those who are particularly religious, finding a perverse joy in tainting those of the cloth. Priests and higher are the most common targets for demons to pursue. Though despite this preference, demons are particularly undiscerning when it comes to who they’ll have sex with.

However, something that’s somewhat of a high crowning achievement is corrupting an angel. This is typically unsuccessful as angels are incredibly stringent in their faith and loyalty to God, so many demons settle for trying to further corrupt fallen angels.

Cambion

Demons can impregnate angels and humans and most demons don’t really care whether or not they procreate and don’t give much thought to the consequences.

The children that come from such unions appear ordinary on the surface, but are naturally more drawn to the occult and often have strange powers and insights that are not their own. Their demonness only becomes more obvious as they continue to age.

Many cambions have demon forms they can shift in and out of once they mature and reach a certain age. Some may have specific powers, such as foresight, mindreading, hypnosis, illusions, suggestion, etc.

Because they’re part human, they’re much less likely to be hunted down by angels and are much better at hiding their demonness than full-blooded demons are.

Gargoyles

Gargoyles are ancient stone beasts that have existed since before mankind.

Grotesque statues by day, hulking winged beasts by night.

However, when Catholicism began becoming more widespread, gargoyles were being hunted down and captured to be put into their employ, even being christened as angels despite having nothing to do with them.

Gargoyles are looked down upon by angels despite being used to protect their cathedrals and holy places from evil demons and spirits.

Despite their frightening appearances, gargoyles are not monsters and actually have very complex communal societies.

Many are nameless but humans throughout history have taken to giving individuals names of their own.

They can take on many appearances and are not uniform save for turning into stone in daylight. Most have wings, feathered and leather, but not all do. Many have tails, though not all of them.

The most distinct uniform thing about them is that they look like beasts. Different kinds and varieties of beasts, but they are very distinctly bestial.

Gargoyles make loyal partners, as they can live for a long time and commit to their partners for life. However, they take no personal part in the raising of their young as all the eggs are put together in a clan rookery to be raised communally by everyone. Only one member of the clan keeps track of the parentage in order to assess bloodlines and prevent accidental inbreeding.

Gargoyles and humans don’t often mate, but when they do, matings are successful. Their eggs can be fertilized by sperm and their sperm can impregnate a human without much trouble.

Angels

Angels are largely benevolent celestial entities that reside in Heaven and act as God’s hands or messengers.

Most angels appear to humans as in their likenesses, humans with large feathered wings, glowing halos, and bathed in holy light. Some angels, however, are more abstract and even maddening like an eldritch god, one in particular being perceived only as a spinning set of flaming wheels dotted with thousands of eyes. Though, it is primarily the human varieties that interact with mortals the most.

Some angels have specific names or titles, but are overall sorted into three categories by their relationship to humans. There are guardian angels, who are tasked with protecting mortals and guiding them. Messenger angels, who are tasked with sending messages and signs to holy practitioners on Earth. And crusader angels, those tasked with purging evil and impurity from the world and combating the forces of Hell.

Despite the common iconography and depictions throughout history, angels are not wholly benevolent. They serve the whims of God and God is not the benevolent benefactor He is seen as. In fact, he is rather spiteful and wrathful in truth.

Angels are allowed to act as benevolent and as malicious as they see fit so long as they do so by God’s will.

They are not allowed to pursue personal relationships, desires, or goals. Angels only exist to serve the will of God. As such, they are meant to abstain completely from human or earthly pleasures and impurities.

Fallen Angels

Angels are meant to follow and act upon the will of God. They are not meant to question him or challenge him. They are meant to act stringently and with purity and impersonalization.

The terms for their servitude is conditional and strict.

If an angel is found guilty for going against the will of God, an angel will be cast out of Heaven, their white wings blackened and their halos split into horns that grow from their heads. Their holy light they were once bathed in snuffed out.

Some fallen angels still find themselves loyal to their God despite this. Whether it be out of some desperate bid to be accepted back or because they genuinely believe in His will and His plan for humanity despite their exile.

Others reject and renounce their allegiance and loyalty to their God and spend their days on Earth, indulging in everything they were denied as purveyors of purity.

Such fallen angels often follow in the footsteps of demons, tempting humans to sin and fraternizing with them.

Demons and angels coming together is completely forbidden and unheard of, though any angel and demon pairings are between demons and fallen angels.

Nephilim

Half angel half demons do exist called ‘nephilim.’ Or, in more derogatory terms, half-breeds.

Some nephilim have powers and abilities from both of their parents, but some are actually unable to properly use them because it harms them due to the instability of their angel and demon blood.

Nephilim are typically not accepted by Heaven and struggle to live in Hell as they become targets by other demons and are typically forced to flee and live on Earth.

Most nephilim are sterile and cannot reproduce. However, some of them are actually able to, but it’s extremely limited and unlikely.

Technically speaking, the nephilim nomer is angelic in nature. In truth, an angel and human child would be a nephilim as well, but a demon and human child would not. These nephilim are much more stable than their demonic-blooded brethren and suffer much less in life.

Nagas

Nagas are proud minor gods of knowledge commonly associated with water, nature, and fertility. They appear human from the waist up and serpent from the waist down. Female nagas are typically called nagi. A nagaraja is a naga king.

Many nagas have left the mortal realm in favour of their own full of gold and riches, known as Naga-loka, but the nagas who stay enjoy the position they hold over humans.

Some seek to cause terror (and are typically exiled from their realm for their cruelty), most seek to spread knowledge and act as guardians to nature and bodies of water, others keep to themselves, and few enjoy soaking up the worship and praise of humans.

Nagas guard anything of value found within Earth. If properly worshipped, they bring rain, and with it wealth and fertility. They’re also associated with illness.

Many nagas have notoriously short fuses. They bring disasters such as floods, famine and drought if they are slighted by humankind’s disrespectful actions in relation to the environment, since such actions impinge upon their natural habitats.

Nagas are guardian spirits and must be propitiated before anything they guard is disturbed or even approached. It is especially crucial to maintain cleanliness and purity of natural sources of water as these are the nagas’ homes. They punish those who pollute air, earth, and water.

Nagas express frustration, anger, and unhappiness by causing illness, especially those ailments that manifest on the skin, ranging from acne to leprosy. They have dominion over skin disorders and may be petitioned for cures, too. Nagas may also cause infectious disease and mental disorders.

A naga can be killed, but every time it dies, it will regenerate and rise again. It takes a whole day for the regeneration to take place. Injuries dealt to a naga heal practically overnight when not fatal.

Nagas have two methods of hypnotizing their prey. Their eyes and their tails.

They can oscillate their pupils and irises and move their heads in rhythmic ways to put anyone who looks into their eyes in an inescapable trance.

They can also move their tails in hypnotic ways that can enrapture anyone who looks at them. Though this is less for hunting and is more of a flirtation. The eye method is used more for hunting.

Nagas have a breeding season around the spring when they can become incredibly volatile, specifically the males.

Breeding season is when they need stimulation the most, both mental and physical. If they do not have a mate during the season, they will make up for it by hunting more than usual so that their sexual frustrations do not evolve into dangerous levels of irritability and aggression that can become incredibly violent very quickly.

Naga matings can be rather violent as male nagas will often try to force themselves onto female nagas or capture humans to breed them. The process can be very painful and traumatic when it’s nonconsensual.

Male nagas can deposit their eggs into human females, but human males cannot provide a female naga with children.

Nagas also have venom, of which has several functions and uses ranging from paralysis, toxicity, aphrodisia, and drowsiness. During mating their venom always chemically changes to the aphrodisia variety which causes their partners to experience incredible pleasure and their bodies to grow hot with need. All pain melts into pleasure and whatever injuries they suffer during a mating very quickly heals during and afterwards.

Male nagas have hemipenes they use to mate. One deposits the eggs, of which are roughly the size of softballs while being oval in shape with a very soft and leathery texture.

Nagas can mate outside of the breeding season. But during the breeding season, once the mating has begun, it cannot be stopped until it is finished.

They can take the form of any snake, but some varieties can also take the form of other serpent-like creatures. Sea nagas have much more variety in this vein, taking the appearance of not only snakes, but eels and other very specific types of amphibians.

Merfolk

Mer exist all over the world in many different varieties.

There are so many different variants that imitate so many different sea creatures that the variety is endless.

Most are carnivorous, but not exclusively.

They can exist in both freshwater and saltwater even amongst the same species.

There are many different species and subspecies of mer all with their own unique needs, behaviours, and environments.

The much rarer mer are more isolated and difficult to come by and they’re considered an endangered species because of how fragile their ecosystems are and how much some depends on them.

While mer most often seek members of the same species to build their groups with, not all mer do.

Some mer are solitary and only seek other mer during the breeding season, typically in the spring though not exclusively.

Said solitary species of mer are the most commonly seen and also most commonly feared due to rumours of humans disappearing in waters where they make their habitats.

However, it is not a rumour.

While it’s not very common, some mer see humans and other species of creatures as resources to use. Some see them as food or as amiable cohabitors and even as breeding partners.

Mer young are called ‘pups’ and need to be taken care of for six months before they are considered mature. When they hatch, their size is dependent on their species as species that lay more eggs per clutch hatch into smaller pups. Regardless, they can grow to incredible size within the six months of their maturity cycle.

Clutches can range from 2 - 20 pups depending on the species.

Mer pups need to be supervised by a parent in that timeframe, otherwise they will not be able to fend for themselves and will likely either starve or become easy prey items.

Most species of mer don’t actually require much more than food and a water basin for them to live in to survive during the first few months, but once they become much larger, they will need more food and a larger habitat.

Among many species of mer, though some may vary, females cannot produce their own eggs.

It is actually the males that not only carry the eggs but also fertilize them at the same time thanks to their dual hemipenes. One deposits the eggs inside the female and the other fertilizes them.

However, male mer can and do reproduce with members of other species, even humans. It is not required for the host to be the same member of their species.

Because of this, there have been incidents of humans being pulled from the sea and disappearing. A very common method is for these mer to drown their victims temporarily, drag them to shore, and revive them whilst impregnating them.

Mer males can impregnate male humans as well, but it’s extremely rare as they don’t make good incubators and would likely kill their eggs before they even hatch. If it happens, it’s an extremely desperate last resort. Male humans are more likely to die by being hunted as a prey item.

They always carry eggs, but they are only viable for deposition during the breeding season, otherwise they cannot hatch and will likely die.

Their eggs are very much like fish eggs, essentially being deposited with their own individual wombs that sap nutrients away from the host, making them crave foods such as fish, red meat, and eggs. The more eggs a species typically deposits within a clutch the smaller the eggs are and the smaller the pups are when they hatch.

They can only deposit one clutch at a time and typically have between 15 - 20 clutches that are viable throughout their lives. Some species can have upwards to 40 or even 60 in some.

Once deposited, it can take between a week and two weeks for the young to start hatching. Ordinarily, when among other mer, eggs would simply hatch out into the water. However it’s much more difficult to do if their chosen mate is not a mer or even aquatic at all.

Many humans who emerge from such ordeals simply empty the pups into a lake or body of water, never to be seen again. Unfortunately said pups typically perish within a day or two of being released due to the lack of a proper parental figure to raise them.

Centaurs

Commonly, centaurs are creatures with the upper body of a human and the lower half of a horse.

However, centaurs are not exclusively horses. In-fact, centaurs encompass the entirety of both odd-toed and even-toed ungulates, such as deer, zebras, or even animals like rhinos and hippopotamuses.

Centaurs are far more widespread than people tend to think that they are and their social structures and families entirely depend on their species.

However, most centaurs live in family groups called herds. Many are governed by a ruling patriarch or matriarch that’s in charge of protecting the entire herd from predators. These bulls or cows also typically have the final say on which members of their herds get to mate with who and whether an outsider deserves to contribute to the herd.

Though many human and centaur relationships and encounters are common, many typically end in death depending on the species and there is a prevailing stigma that they’re nonconsensual. Some prefer to flee from humans and others will attack on sight and kill them.

Male centaurs cannot reach their equine cocks to relieve their sexual frustrations, which often leads to them taking them out on other centaurs and especially humans. As far as sexual gratification goes, humans are a favourite.

Impregnating a centaur is the safest solution to this because if a centaur impregnates a human, not only is the mating process incredibly dangerous and risky, but the birth could also potentially be fatal.

Births are usually premature as a human body cannot handle the size the calf would grow inside them and sometimes a centaur will reject the premature calf, leaving it essentially an orphan. This doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.

Some species of centaurs form coalitions of exclusively male centaurs for the purpose of seeking out and impregnating females. If they cannot find any of their own species, some will kidnap a human female and keep her for themselves until she’s successfully inseminated.

Other species of centaurs have females of the herd sneak off to find male centaurs to mate with and if they cannot find a suitable male, they will often seek out a human male to have his children. Female centaurs are far less dangerous for humans to interact with.

Some herds have their members bring a potential outside mate to their ruling matriarch/patriarch to have them assessed for their breeding potential, including humans.

Ichthyocentaurs

If mers were rare and varied all around the world, ichthyocentaurs are even more so.

The fusion between humans and the aquatic hippocampus (creatures that are half fish and half horse), there is such a wide variety among them, yet even fewer numbers and sightings. And on top of that, they come with horns on their heads that at first glance appear like pincers.

Mostly because the vast majority of them try to stay away from human contact while mers do seek it out purposefully on a semifrequent basis.

Almost all ichthyocentaurs are omnivorous in some capacity, reducing their need to come in contact with humans by a considerable amount.

Unlike mers, ichthyocentaurs are rarely solitary, preferring to move in pods. Not all of them are familially based, but a lone ichthyocentaur is not common.

Ichthyocentaurs seek out mates during the breeding seasons just like mers do.

They typically only produce one foal per mating, though on occasion, twins have been known to be produced from matings. However, the parent(s) can only support one foal. They will often abandon the one they think will have less chance of survival.

Unlike mers, foals take several years to reach adult maturity and the amount depends on the species. It can take between 5 - 20 years depending on the species and even the sex of the individual.

While many live as wild creatures, ichthyocentaurs are actually minor gods. Some even have underwater kingdoms they live in, where other mythical sea creatures roam and serve under them.

These underwater kingdoms are actually capable of allowing anyone and anything to breathe despite being underwater. This is because the magic that protects their kingdoms grants anyone inside it immortality while being in the kingdom.

These gods can range from pleasant and benevolent to cruel and savage.

Unlike mers, ichthyocentaurs do not lay eggs. They give live birth.

The good thing about this is that most females do not need another member of their own species in order to copulate. Ichthyocentaurs can successfully mate with humans regardless of the equipment involved.

Their genitalia is more like their centaur part rather than their mer part, so oviposition is not a factor or an issue. However, this means that male ichthyocentaurs must be very careful with a human mate, as their penises are much bigger and can damage their partners and even potentially kill them in the process.

When it comes to each other, males can be very aggressive during the breeding season, fighting other males in order to copulate with a female and even with her to successfully mount her.

Sometimes the males can even breed the females to death.

Though, very disturbingly, this has no effect on whether the sperm takes and the males will often keep the female’s corpse until the young is born.

Minotaurs

Minotaurs have the head of a bull and the body of a man.

The first was Asterius, the son of Minos’s wife, Pasiphaë and a snow white bull Minos was meant to sacrifice to Poseidon that he decided not to. Asterius was kept in a labyrinth designed by Daedalus to keep him imprisoned.

Legend says that he grew too large in size and that there was no natural sustenance for him to eat, so he devoured humans, leading to his imprisonment by Minos.

However, this isn’t true. Rather, Minos was enraged that Poseidon had made his wife fall in love with and mate with the bull he had kept, so he punished Asterius by spreading lies that the minotaur devoured humans.

So much so that when seven men and unwed women were sent into the labyrinth to Asterius as a feast, they were shocked when the minotaur not only did not devour them, but that he also took them in and protected them. They were meant to be a sacrifice and Asterius refused to accept them as such.

Many of the women in the labyrinth fell in love with Asterius and mothered his children. The minotaur knew that they would not be accepted back, so he helped the men take the women and navigate out of the labyrinth so that they could be free.

As such, even though Asterius was killed by Theseus, his children and his legacy live on.

Minotaurs live solitary lives, most often in caves. Even after being divorced from their ancestor’s origins, they still have a natural inclination to live in secluded networks of caves alone.

Despite the monstrous legends that surround them, minotaurs are actually very gentle giants and are incredibly tender with their lovers.

Minotaurs do not typically mate for life, though if one were to choose them as a lifelong mate, they do perfectly well as permanent partners.

If a minotaur mates with a human, their offspring will always be another minotaur.

Arachne

Named after the first of her kind, arachnes are half human half spider creatures.

Arachne was a woman who challenged Athena to a weaving contest. When Athena found that Arachne had outdone her, the goddess punished her and beat her with her weaving shuttle.

Out of shame, Arachne then hung herself and Athena then turned her into the grotesque spider creature as a punishment.

All arachnes are descendents of the first and have spread far and wide, nestling deep in the darkest and deepest woods on the planet hidden away in secret caves and tunnels where humans are rumoured to have disappeared.

Arachnes mate with each other just as spiders do, but their preferred method of reproduction is with humans.

An arachne will kidnap a human by biting them with paralyzing venom that wears off after a couple hours and then spinning a web that ensnares them.

Then, after taking them to their cave, the arachne will inject a venom like an aphrodisiac in order to prevent their victim from struggling or trying to fight back.

They will keep them wound up in webs and stuck to a larger one before tearing open an opening so that they can properly breed their victim. A large ovipositor will emerge from their abdomen and insert itself into the monster’s captive.

The egg laying process is long as arachnes lay hundreds of eggs inside their victim in order to ensure the survival of enough offspring to carry another generation afterwards.

After laying the eggs, the arachne will then inseminate and fertilize the eggs with its own sperm. After the eggs hatch, the children will eat the human and then leave the nest.

Gorgons

Gorgons were originally the daughters of Ceto and Phorcys, Stheno, the eldest, Euryale, the middle, and Medusa, the youngest sister.

They were winged human women with living venomous snakes for hair.

Stheno and Euryale were immortal while their youngest sister Medusa was not.

The eldest sister was the most violent and savage of the three, having killed more human men than all of them combined.

Medusa was a protector of human women who were abused by their husbands and treated as nothing more than objects.

She offered them a safe haven away from domestic abuse along with even some men escaping from a similar fate.

However, the men have heard of these tales and they have branded Medusa as a monster who spirited away their wives. So, they prayed to the gods to answer them and bring their women back to them.

Poseidon answered their prayers and took Medusa to the Temple of Athena and raped her there. Medusa, calling to the goddess to help her and to save her from this torment, Athena instead cursed Medusa so that her gaze would turn anyone who looked in her eyes to stone.

Banished and alone, Medusa became wrathful and vengeful and was confined to her haven as the people she was meant to protect were taken from her and she was left to bear Poseidon’s bastard children.

Stheno, enraged by Athena’s decision to punish her youngest sister, stood against the goddess and demanded that she reverse the curse she put on her sister for Poseidon’s wrongdoing. Athena, seeing the sea god as blameless, instead cursed both Stheno and Euryale to suffer the same curse as Medusa and banished them as well.

However, despite this, the gods now feared the gorgons for their curse and refused to go anywhere near them.

So, when a human warrior named Perseus showed intent on slaying them, namely Medusa, Athena came to his aid. Athena gave Perseus a mirror to protect him from Medusa’s gaze and Hermes gave him his scythe in order to rend the gorgon’s head from her body.

Perseus succeeded in killing Medusa and taking her head, which still held her curse’s power even in death, and presented it to Athena. From her body sprung the children Poseidon had burdened her with, Pegasus and Chysaor.

Euryale was known for her bellowing cries which only rumbled tenfold at the death of her sister which turned stone into sand.

Both Euryale and Stheno tried to kill Perseus in revenge for the murder of Medusa, but have failed to due to the gods’ favour in the human warrior.

All gorgons are descendents of Euryale and Stheno. Gorgons also inherited Athena’s curse, being the ability to turn people into stone with their gaze.

In addition to this, gorgons also have healing abilities. Venom taken from the right side of their hair could heal any wound and even bring the dead back to life while venom taken from the left side would be fatal.

Gorgons also have the power to give blessings and curses. They are eternally vengeful creatures thanks to the history of their foremothers. They can cast enchantments and curses as they see fit.

A gorgon’s curse is everlasting. Once a curse is cast, no force on earth or beyond can ever undo it or break it. Even by the gorgon who cast it.

While gorgons have a natural disposition against gods and human men, even male gorgons, they also understand that men are just as capable of being abused by women as women are by men. After all, Medusa had taken in abused men into her haven in life.

Gorgons tend to prefer taking human women as mates and partners, men are not necessarily excluded. Even gods are not necessarily excluded. But the parameters of earning the gorgon’s trust is high due to their ancient history.

Children born from gorgons will always be gorgons and unfortunately even having a human parent cannot undo or remove Athena’s curse. However, gorgons make excellent parents as they naturally have an innate protective instinct over the young.

Harpies

These mythical bird human creatures live high on mountaintops and cliffs to avoid being found/discovered by humans and having their nests compromised and put in danger. Though, if a harpy is particularly desperate, they’ll nest in abandoned barns and buildings.

Harpies can take the appearance of many real life birds, but they aren’t always easily identifiable in that manner. In most cases, males have flashier colours than females do.

They have two sets of wings. One set is on their back and the other is their arms. They can alternate between these to suit their needs. If they are unable to use one set to fly, they will use the other.

They typically live in large colonies due to the advantage of communal raising. Typically females live in large colonies, often overseen by a matriarch, while the males tend to leave their nests to join other colonies and find their own mates. Some colonies are exclusively male except for the reigning matriarch.

Some harpies mate for life, others don’t. Some harpies also choose to live solitary lives for whatever reason.

They often spirit away humans, flying them away off the ground letting the threat of falling to their deaths convince them to cooperate with their captors.

Harpies can successfully mate with humans regardless of sex. If a male impregnates a human, his sperm is so aggressive and powerful that it will change the genetic structure of the egg and it will grow as a harpy egg. And if a female harpy is impregnated by a male human, he will successfully fertilize her egg.

Male solitary harpies will often keep their female captor in order to protect her and his egg as well as have a mate that can look after the egg while he goes to hunt. Females will often kidnap a human of the same sex after mating in order to force them to take care of her egg while she goes to hunt.

In exclusively male colonies, if their matriarch dies without a harpy female to replace them, the male harpies will either seek out a lone female to mate with or will even seek out a female human for all the males to mate with.

Eggs take about a month to form before they’re laid and then three and a half months to hatch.

Some mated couples actually spirit away humans for the both of them to mate with. No one knows why this happens.

Regardless of sex, all harpies have pronounced breasts. In fact, larger breasts are considered more attractive due to the promise of lots of milk for each other and for their young.

After mating, harpies drink each other’s milk as a form of bonding.

Orloks

Orloks are a subset of harpies that instead of appearing like half human half birds, they are instead half bat.

They always live in colonies and are very communal creatures.

Instead of laying eggs, they give live birth.

Unlike their birdlike cousins, there is no distinguishable sexual dimorphism between male and female orloks at a glance. The only signifier is which sexual organ they are equipped with.

Orloks are also much more involved parents than harpies are. While harpies leave their young in the nest to grow up, orloks carry their young on their chests wherever they go until a certain age when they can fly by themselves.

Panfolk

The Greek god Pan is god of many things, including the wild, shepherds, the nature of the mountain wilds, rustic music and impromptus, and a companion of the nymphs.

He is also heavily affiliated with sex and is thus also seen as a god of fertility and sex.

Panfolk are called such because they appear very similarly to the god, Pan, who is described to have the legs, hindquarters, and horns of a goat and the rest like a man.

Satyrs

Satyrs are nature spirits that resemble their god, Pan, the most.

They have the same goatlike appearance and insatiable sexual appetite. Oftentimes they’re depicted as having a constant exaggerated erection as well as attempting to seduce nymphs and mortal women on multiple occasions.

They’re lovers of dancing, music, wine, and revelry and were once companions of the Greek god, Dionysis.

However, despite these myths, satyrs are not exclusively male. They do, however, have nearly insatiable sexual appetites.

Satyrs aren’t malicious by any means and are typically just mischief makers that enjoy messing with and causing mild trouble for mortals.

In addition to nymphs and humans, satyrs also tend to seek out centaurs as well. Surprisingly, they’re incredibly compatible mates.

Satyrs have a nearly insatiable sexual appetite yet are seldom successful with anyone but each other. However, upon success, their seed takes very well and they procreate very easily. Satyrs make more satyrs when mating with humans, though with nymphs or centaurs, it’s either a 50/50 chance or a strange mix of the two. Satyrs make very poor parents typically because they’re more interested in the process of having sex than actually having and raising children.

Fauns

Despite Pan’s iconography being more popular and widespread when it comes to satyrs and faun, faun are actually older than satyrs. Or, at least their god is. Because surprisingly, they do not come from Pan but from Silenus, tutor to Dionysus.

Unlike satyrs, fauns aren’t driven by their sexual drive nearly as much as their satyr cousins. However, they are a bit more naive and foolish than their satyr cousins.

Fauns also serve as guiding figures to humans in need and are far more innocent in their desires than satyrs.

They have a gentler, more mild-mannered disposition and make very good lovers. They also make very good parents.

Fauns also have a much better relationship with nymphs than satyrs do because they treat both them and mortals with more respect than satyrs do.

They also have a particular soft spot when it comes to looking after and taking care of children.

Capricorns

Capricorns are to satyrs and faun what ichthyocentaurs are to centaurs.

Legends say that when Pan was attacked by the monster, Typhon, he fled into the River Nile as a capricorn and ended up mating with and spreading his seed there.

Their bottom half is that of a fish or aquatic animal and their top half is the horned goat folk. However, capricorns are also capable of shapeshifting in order for their top halves to appear fully goatlike.

They can make with humans, satyrs, and faun alike, but they can also make with mers and ichthyocentaurs to produce offspring.

Capricorns are much smaller than ichthyocentaurs and thus are much less dangerous to have sex and breed with than the latter creature. Giving birth is also much less dangerous to do and is much less taxing on the mortal body.

Nymphs

Nymphs are ancient nature deities, typically depicted as beautiful maidens though are not actually exclusively female.

They’re separated into four groups, that being tree spirits, river spirits, sea spirits, and mountain spirits.

While nymphs are not immortal, they live much much longer lives than most mortals do.

They’re tied very deeply to the areas they’re bound to and often dwell far away from human settlements. However, they can still be stumbled upon by lone travelers for whom may become unwaveringly infatuated upon meeting.

As such, mortals are often warned not to approach nymphs lest they become ‘nymph-struck.’ They were often pursued by their nature spirit cousins, the satyrs and fauns.

Nymphs are skittish and avoidant by nature and won’t typically take mates, mortal or otherwise, despite so many coveting them.

However, if they take a mortal, it’s typically under the condition that they belong to them from that point on forever and that they abandon their former life. Sometimes they’ll even bargain for their firstborn children whether or not they have any.

Resulting children are always nymphs.

Dryads

Dryads are tree nymphs. Originally they were just referred to as oak tree nymphs, but dryad has since become the parlance that refers to all tree nymphs.

They’re very closely tied to their trees to the point that if a tree is harmed or killed, the dryad will die, too. As such, bringing harm to a tree without first propitiating the tree nymphs are harshly punished by the gods.

Many dryads are very shy creatures and only seek each other’s company except for the goddess Artemis who was a close friend to most nymphs.

Dryads appear like humans made of bark and leaves as though they were made of the trees themselves, giving off the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves and petrichor. They can also transform into trees if they feel threatened or exposed, not wanting to be pursued by anyone.

Naiads

Despite their association with rivers, naiads also preside over and are tied to all bodies of fresh water such as streams, ponds, lakes, wells, and springs.

Naiads are the nymphs that are typically in the closest proximity to most humans to the point that some settlements and locales worship them, performing sacrifices and coming of age ceremonies dedicated to the water nymphs.

Naiads are also notoriously jealous and are more likely to seek out human mates and react poorly when rejected or when their partners behave unfaithfully. They may enact punishments or even take their victims and fuse with them in order to prevent them from ever escaping their grasps.

These water nymphs appear as though they are made of the freshest and clearest water, their bodies as clear and transparent and emitting a fragrant aquatic aroma. Oftentimes infatuation with naiads feels like an extreme and unquenchable thirst.

Nereids

Nereids are nymphs of the sea, tied to saltwater bodies and the entirety of the ocean.

They are often very friendly and helpful to sailors out at sea and often accompany Poseidon, the god of the sea. Many nereids have been wives of Poseidon’s descendents.

These sea nymphs are the easiest and least dangerous nymphs to come across as they are good-natured and rather friendly and open, opting to be helpful and welcoming rather than skittish or aggressive or vain.

They represent everything that is beautiful and good about the sea, showing its more elegant and graceful side.

Nereids appear like water contoured by seafoam, kelp, and coral. They carry the scent of an ocean mist with the faint taste of sea salt.

Oreads

Oreads are mountain nymphs and they are the most elusive and least encountered of all the nymphs.

They are not shy nor aggressive. They are rather stoic and steady creatures that are deeply tied to the mountains they protect and rarely speak.

Like their dryad cousins, oreads also enjoy the company of Artemis as she often prefers mountains and rocky precipices when she goes out to hunt.

Though few have ever encountered oreads, those that have described them as though they were sculpted from marble and stone itself, covered in moss and freshly tilled soil and smelling like earth and dirt.