#might satiate her hunger for love. And so on.

[spacesheeeeeep]

Actually so tired that people mainly focus on the bdsm when they talk about La Pianiste when we literally have this dynamic right here. Like, that's insane.

What if you were a little girl in her 40's who couldn't grow up because of your mother-wife who made you sleep in her bed and forced you to repress every sexual desires and thoughts of becoming your own person just to keep you close to her ? What if you fought back and yearned for dangerous things out of her reach ? But also, what if you let her because it's all you've ever known and been taught to want ?

[prythiansprincess]

DELIRIUM | a stalker! theo au.

"you're so fucking special; I wish I was special."

word count: 5,662.

warnings: please read all trigger warnings before proceeding. dead dove do not eat, noncon, murder, coercion, stalking, assault, manipulation, gaslighting, knife play, blood play, abusive behavior.

author's note: I don't say it lightly when I say that this fic is very dark. I fully understand that the topics and themes discussed are not for everyone, so please be mindful of the warnings before engaging. special thanks to @writingsbychlo for proofreading and encouraging my over all psychophathy.

♫ creep - radiohead. nav. stalker! theo.

There was something wrong with Theo Nott. 

Perhaps it was a result of his traumatic upbringing or perhaps it was simply encrypted into his genetic code, but whether nature or nurture was to be blamed, this simple truth was certain: a sick, twisted, and insatiable monster lurked within him and its hunger could be satiated by one thing and one thing only — you. 

In the deepest and darkest depths of his inky black heart, Theo knew that he was completely and utterly fucked up. This thing inside of him — this madness — rendered him incapable of forming healthy relationships. Time and time again, his passions and proclivities hinted towards a more sinister nature. Some called him deranged, delirious, delusional, but Theo simply thought of himself as a hopeless romantic. 

Theo was not the type of man to harbor a crush or entertain a fling or succumb to a fleeting infatuation that eventually faded over time. When he loved, he loved with his entire being. He loved until it became a fixation, a compulsion, an obsession. This has and always will be his fatal flaw. 

From a young age, Theo learned that he was not normal. When he presented Pansy Parkinson with the front teeth of the boy who dared knock her off the swings, that was not normal. When he gifted Daphne Greengrass the rotting carcass of a bird that had kept her up with the incessant tapping of its beak against her bedroom window, that was not normal. When he offered to carve the initials of Mattheo Riddle into his skin to prove his loyalty, that was not normal. 

Theo was bereft when his friends cried and fled from him, feeling distraught and disappointed by their reactions. After all, he had only done those things to make them happy. Why couldn’t they see that?

When his mother found him crying in the Nott Manor gardens, she explained to him that he was a very special boy. That his capacity for love would be misunderstood by those around him because they simply could not feel the way that he did. The intensity of his emotions surpassed their understanding; they didn’t know what it was like to be irrevocably consumed by love. His devotion could be misconstrued, his affection scorned, which is why it became imperative for Theo to shield himself from the world until the right person came along. 

So, he conformed, he adapted, he survived, but Theo knew it was only a matter of time before his carefully constructed mask slipped. 

In the back of a crowded restaurant, Theo swirled the glass of wine in his hand before taking a long sip. The waiter had recommended the red vintage, droning on and on about the quality of the 1978 Barolo Montorfino and the meticulous aging process of the Nebbiolo grapes to produce this particular bottle. Theo fought the urge to roll his eyes. He already knew all of this, given that the wine was produced by his family’s vineyard in the Italian countryside. 

The complex flavor danced on his tongue. On any other occasion, he might have savored the hints of cherry, roses, and truffle peeking through its rich-bodied profile, but Theo tasted nothing but ash in his mouth. Because across the rooftop sat the woman of his dreams, drinking and laughing and dining with another man. Theo gripped the stem of his glass until his knuckles turned white. 

Needless to say, the night was not going as Theo intended it to. It was supposed to be him feeding you little bites of tagliatelle, topping your wine off with a wink, and listening to your melodious voice recount silly anecdotes about yourself. Instead, Adrian fucking Pucey was blattering on like a bloody twat, failing to appreciate the goddess seated across from him. The stupid prick was probably too busy gauging whether or not he was going to get lucky tonight. As if Theo would ever let that happen. 

No, that simply wouldn’t do. 

Sure, he had enjoyed the game of cat and mouse between you over the past few months. Since the day you moved into the house next to his, there had been this constant push and pull between you. The flirtatious banter as he helped you carry your dresser into the foyer after he found you struggling in the yard, the freshly baked goods you presented to him as thanks after the fact, the shy way you smiled at him every time you crossed paths when you departed and arrived back home. 

Something awakened within him the second he laid eyes on you. Something dark, something dangerous, something that he thought was long buried in the depths of his depraved soul. 

It wasn’t all in his head. Hell, you had invited him in on that very first day. You wanted him there. You wanted him near you. You wanted him.

All the darkness that he tried so hard to push down seemed to resurface all at once. Suddenly, Theo found himself falling back into old old habits. Watching you through your bedroom window while you undressed, sneaking into your house while you were away at work, planting cameras in every room without your knowledge, and even going so far as stealing your lingerie. 

But Theo wasn’t stalking you. 

No.

He was merely keeping an eye on you. 

Clearly, you needed someone to look after you if you were putting your trust in a man like Adrian Pucey. You were too soft and sweet and innocent for this world. Theo wanted to protect you. In his eyes, Pucey was a threat to your relationship and there was only one way to deal with a threat — eliminate it. 

The opportunity presented itself after that sordid dinner. After dessert was served, Theo quietly slipped out ahead of the happy couple. Well, the two of you wouldn’t be happy for long. Not if he had anything to do with it. 

Surrounded by silence and darkness, Theo laid in wait until he heard the tell-tale sounds of the front door unlocking. He observed in quiet rage as Adrian kissed his girl. The door snicked shut, but the two of you barely noticed as you stumbled through the foyer, his lips sucking at your neck, his hands roaming underneath your dress, his cock pressing against your core as you mewled for him. Theo couldn’t stomach a second more of this. The sound of Pucey’s name falling from your lips was enough to awaken the monster within him. 

A sickening thud echoed through the house as Pucey dropped to the floor. With wide eyes, you scrambled in the darkness, blinking in disbelief at the sight before you. The silk strap of your dress fell from your shoulders at the abruptness of the attack. Your pupils, which were previously blown from desire, now shifted into fear. 

“T — Theo?” Disbelief colored your expression as you looked up at your neighbor. Dressed in all black, his tall and lithe form blended in with his surroundings. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t really think I’d let this prick weasel his way into your bed, did you?” 

You blinked in confusion. On the floor of your living room, Adrian nursed his broken nose, trying and failing to staunch the blood flowing through his fingers. 

“Do you know this asshole, Y/N?” 

“He’s my neighbor,” you answered. Theo’s face twisted in anger at your response. You cowered under his gaze and scooted backwards against the wall. “Theo, what’s going on? Why are you doing this?” 

Theo sneered. “Isn’t it obvious, bella?” Your blood ran cold when a flash of silver appeared in his hand. “I know why you went on this date tonight. You wanted me to fight for you, so here I am. I love you and I won’t let anyone keep us apart.”

“What are you talking about, Theo?” You cried as he stalked towards you. “I barely know you. We’re neighbors, just neighbors, that’s all.” You pleaded, begging for him to listen to reason. “Please, just stop this. You don’t have to do any of this.” 

“Shh, my sweet Y/N,” Theo cooed as he wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. His blue eyes bore into you with such intensity that it made you shiver. There was something lurking behind that dead eyed stare and you feared for whatever it might unleash. 

Theo caressed your cheek with reverence while you trembled in fear. “You just don’t know any better, cara mia. But don’t worry, I’ll show you how much I love you. I’ll protect you; I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I’m going to take care of this. He will never come between us again.” 

Before you could protest, Theo had already rounded on Adrian. The brunette threw his hands up as Theo pulled him up by his collar. “I almost feel sorry for you, you know,” Theo taunted. “You probably thought you were so smart, preying on someone as sweet and innocent as Y/N. You never deserved her.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Adrian retorted, crimson staining his dress shirt as he struggled against his captor’s hold. “It was just a few harmless dates.” 

“A few harmless dates?” Theo repeated in a mocking tone. “Christ, you can’t truly be that stupid, can you? You don’t even understand how lucky you are to have gotten the chance to be in her company. She’s a fucking goddess and you — “ Adrian groaned when Theo yanked his hair back to give him a proper view of you. “Well, you’re nothing.” 

“Look man, I don’t want any trouble. I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. I was just lookin for an easy fuck — “

Fury simmered in Theo’s gaze. The careless words that Adrian spoke cut you deep, but not nearly as deep as the blade that sliced his throat open. The crimson river flowing from Adrian’s neck bathed Theo in blood, covering his face, his hair, and his clothes. 

You screamed as Adrian slumped to the floor, his lifeless body discarded onto your cream rug as his vacant gaze stared at nothing. The gravity of his death sent a surge of adrenaline in your veins. You needed to get the fuck away, The instinct to survive kicked in and you darted for the door, but unfortunately, Theo was quicker. 

A strong arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you away from your only form of escape. You struggled in his hold, clawing and kicking and screaming as Theo dragged you through the living room. 

“You killed him!” You screamed while you continued thrashing. “He’s dead, you killed him, oh my god — “

“Don’t be like that, cara mia,” Theo said in a soothing voice. “I thought you would be happy. With our little problem out of the way, we can finally be together.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath!” 

With a swift kick to the balls, Theo stumbled backwards which gave you time to frantically reach for your purse. The slick blood that coated the wooden floors now sullied your dress, but you pushed the thought away as you recovered your phone. As you tapped on the screen, it came alive with a bright light. With shaking hands, you tried to swipe up to dial emergency services, but the screen buzzed with static before completely dying out. 

“No!” You screamed in frustration as you pressed the dead screen over and over again. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” 

Behind you, Theo sighed and shook his head in disappointment. Crouching down before you, the warmth of his palm felt like a slap to the face as he cradled your jaw.

“You’ve been a bad girl, bella,” Theo purred. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you’ve left me no choice.” 

Your eyes widened as he produced a set of handcuffs from his pocket. “No, please, you don’t have to do this. Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 

“Let you go?” Theo repeated in a cold, menacing voice as he clamped the handcuffs over your wrists. “After all that I’ve done for you, do you really think I would be capable of just letting you go?” He tutted in disapproval as he tugged you towards the stairs. “You’re all mine now, you’re not going anywhere.” 

The short walk to your bedroom felt like a march towards death. You began to shake violently as Theo guided you towards the bed, instructing you to lie down as he tinkered with the handcuffs. Tears blurred your vision as your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“Are you going to kill me?” you whispered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Theo said with a scoff as he rearranged the cuffs and chained you to the bed. “You wouldn’t be any fun if you’re dead.” 

Fear gripped every fiber of your being in a chokehold. Theo leaned back and admired his work. The intensity of his gaze felt like a brand against your skin as he drank in the sight of you spread out for him. The silk of your dress was stained with blood, the fabric nearly see through from how soaked it was. 

“You’re such a pretty little thing all tied up like a present for me, principessa.” 

His blue eyes were nearly black as he gazed at you with unadulterated desire. The pale moonlight streaming through the window casted sinister shadows on his face. 

“If you’re not going to kill me, then what do you plan on doing?” 

“I’m so glad you asked,” Theo declared with a deranged smile as he brandished his knife. “I plan on worshipping every inch of your body.” The cold edge of his blade traced the curve of your jaw. “I plan on making you see God with my tongue, my fingers, my cock.” The knife continued its path down the valley of your breasts. “I plan on possessing you, owning you, and ruining you for every other man.” 

“You barely even know me,” you pleaded, shying away from the blade that now rested on the hem of your dress. “I’m not yours, Theo.” 

The air left your lungs all at once as his hand wrapped around your throat. The lack of oxygen made you dizzy and you grew limp against the bed, barely even registering the blade caressing your skin. 

“I’ll carve my name into your thigh if that’s what it takes to get it through your pretty little head that you are mine.” 

You coughed as he released his hold, disoriented by the sudden rush of air into your lungs. “Don’t touch me! Don’t fucking touch me, oh fuck —“ 

Your hips jerked at the sudden cold sensation between your legs. Theo watched in amusement as he pressed the hilt of his blade against your clothed core, drinking in the way you writhed underneath him. 

“What was that, bella?” Theo teased. “I can’t hear you over all that moaning.” 

Your cheeks burned with shame as you continued his ministrations against your clit. It was a purely physical response, but it felt like your own body was betraying you. This wasn’t supposed to feel good. You hated the way you reacted to his touch, his words, his gaze. You hated him. 

“You’re a sick fuck,” you yelled as you tugged at your restraints. Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time, you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pleasure. “This is vile, this is evil. I hate you. I fucking hate you —“ 

Theo chuckled darkly as he tugged your panties to the side and slipped the hilt of his blade through your folds without warning. “Then why are you so fucking wet for me?” 

“I’m not!” In all your life, you had never felt more degraded and humiliated. The conflicting emotions warred in your mind, but the truth of the matter was that you had absolutely no control over your own arousal. “I’m not.” 

“You are,” Theo growled as the handle of his blade squelched in your slick. “But by all means, keep lying to yourself. In fact, I quite prefer it if you put up a fight. I like it rough.” 

You groaned, delirious with need as he fucked you with his knife. “When I make you cum, I know that I’ve earned it.” 

You bit down on your bottom lip until blood filled your mouth. The horror of the scene unfolding before you filled you with dread yet you couldn’t stop the moans and whines that escaped past your lips. When you looked up, Theo was transfixed by the sight of your greedy cunt taking his knife.

“That’s it, Y/N,” hummed Theo. “This will be a lot easier if you just stop fighting it. You want this. You want me.” 

“I — I don’t! I don’t want —“ 

“I —I don’t want,” Theo mocked. “How fucking pathetic. You can’t even finish that sentence without moaning.” He pulled out his knife and slid two fingers in without warning. His cruel laugh echoed in the bedroom when the sound of your slick filled the silence. “If you don’t want me, then why are you riding my fingers like this, hm?” 

There was no answer as he plunged the hilt of his knife into you again, stretching and filling you in the most delicious way. His thumb rubbed your sensitive bundle of nerves in tantalizing circles, pushing you towards the edge of pleasure. 

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of an orgasm, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no stopping the intense pleasure that barrelled through your body. As you crested over the finish line, your vision went dark. The depravity of the act filled you with mortification and indignity. Theo, on the other hand, looked euphoric. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum,” he whispered softly. 

You wanted to claw and scratch and hit him for the way he made you feel. Theo presented the knife to you with reverence. The blade was soaked in blood, but the hilt dripped with your cum. His tongue darted out and licked and lapped at your arousal with long, languid strokes as his eyes rolled back in euphoria. The way he moaned when he tasted you was obscene. 

“You taste so sweet,” Theo rasped in a choked groan. “Such a good girl for me.” 

This was beyond fucked up. 

Theo was beyond fucked up. 

You watched in alarm, waiting for disgust to overwhelm your senses, but it never came. Instead, your pussy clenched around nothing at the sight. What the fuck was wrong with you? 

Theo leaned over you, his brown curls brushing against your nose as he smirked. “Don’t I get a kiss as a reward for making you feel so good?” 

The absence of pleasure finally made you come to your senses. “Fuck you.” 

The depth of his blue eyes was swallowed by a void that threatened to suffocate you. The man before you transformed into a monster as he growled and held his knife against your throat. “Let me rephrase that,” he hissed as the blade nicked your skin. “If you don’t kiss me, I’ll slit your fucking throat.” 

You whimpered as the blade dug deeper into your neck, causing small droplets of blood to stain your sheets. Theo stared at you with malice, his face hovering a few inches from yours as he waited for your next move. His cool breath fanned over your skin while his lips ghosted over yours. 

“Please, Y/N?” Theo pouted as he blinked down at you through his thick, dark lashes. “Just one kiss, please.” 

It was apparent that he wanted you to make the first move. As if it would absolve him from this abhorrent act. As if it would exculpate him despite the threat he made on your life if you refused to comply. In some sick, twisted way, you knew that the second your lips touched his, Theo felt absolutely vindicated. 

The growl that crawled out of his throat was purely animalistic. It spoke of need, of desire, of lust that had simmered underneath the surface for far too long. The taste of you, soft and supple and sweet, was better than anything Theo could have ever imagined. His cock strained against his pants as he deepened the kiss, tongue sweeping over the seam of your lips to demand entrance. 

A part of you wanted to fight back, to pull away from him, but it was nearly impossible when he harshly grabbed your jaw and forced his way in. You opened for him reluctantly, but that was all he needed. Theo was the type of person to take a mile when given an inch. His hands roamed your body while his tongue massaged yours, moaning, panting, licking the roof of your mouth with unabashed glee. Theo squeezed your tits and gripped your hips and wrapped your legs around his waist. He felt like a dog in heat as he rutted himself against your clothed cunt. 

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. 

Dazed and drunk with desire, Theo pulled away, his gaze sweeping over your kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” 

It was fucking horrible, horrendous, atrocious. You wanted the deepest pits of hell to open up and swallow you whole. Because that kiss had lit a fire in your belly despite your disgust for the man forcing himself on you. 

Before you could think twice, you reared back and spit right into his face. Theo blinked in surprise. You expected anger, but amusement greeted you instead. The motherfucker was enjoying this. 

“You’re a feisty thing, aren’t you?” Theo drawled as he unclasped his belt. The sight caused panic to grip you from all sides. “Don’t worry, principessa. I’ll fuck the fight right out of you. I will break you until you become the good girl that I know you can be.” 

“Theo please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you sobbed and begged. “Don’t do this, please.” 

Theo chuckled darkly. “You’re not sorry,” he said as he cut your dress open with his blade. “But you will be.” 

Exposed and vulnerable, you struggled against your restraints as Theo trailed kisses down your torso. His lips were a searing brand against your skin, sucking and biting and marking your skin as though he was staking his claim on your body. His deft fingers unhooked your bra and his pupils were completely black as he ogled your chest. 

With his lips latched around your nipple, Theo blinked innocently up at you. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” he murmured as he flicked his tongue over the stiffened peak. “You make me crazy, Y/N.” 

You moaned as he sucked fervently, losing himself in the heat of your skin and the scent of your perfume. Roses and vanilla. Sweet and simple, just like his pretty girl. Theo groaned as he lavished your other nipple the same treatment. 

There was such reverence and awe in the way that he touched you. For a brief moment, you forgot how truly vile he was because the second his fingers slipped inside of you and curved against that sweet spot, every ounce of common sense abandoned you. 

“I bet Adrian would’ve never gotten you this wet, huh?”

Your eyes snapped open at the reminder. Somewhere underneath you, Adrian’s lifeless body was still bleeding out on your wooden floors. “You’re fucking awful — o —oh —“ 

The involuntary whimper that crawled up your throat was pathetic, but you couldn’t help it. Theo had ripped your panties to shreds and positioned the head of his cock over your folds, teasing and taunting at your entrance as you continued to resist. 

“Theo, Theo, please,” you pleaded as he began to breach your cunt. You kicked your legs in the air and tilted your hips away from him, anything to keep him away from you, but it didn’t work. 

Theo held your hips down, his large hands forming bruises on your skin. “Stay fucking still,” he growled against your neck before biting down hard. 

Shocked, you stopped struggling and cried as the sting broke skin. Theo took the opportunity to push the head of his cock inside of you, making your eyes water from the sheer length of him. He was too big, it didn’t fit, it fucking hurt. But the desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Theo fully sheathed himself in your warmth. 

“So fucking tight,” Theo grunted as he slowly dragged his cock out of your pussy, entranced at the way your bodies melded together, watching your cunt clench around nothing before slamming all the way in. Your teeth clattered together from the force. “Dio mio, you feel so fucking good. I want to ruin you.” 

Once more, he pulled out and pushed into your warmth, savoring the way you squeezed around him. The sensation made you dizzy with desire. Try as you might to fight it, every breach of his cock only stretched and filled you even more, the filthy sound of your pussy squelching with every thrust echoing in the room. 

“Wanted this for so long,” Theo grunted. “You have no idea what it’s been like for me, cara mia.” His hips snapped against your ass while he drove deeper and deeper, thick cock kissing the tip of your cervix. “But now I finally get to have you all to myself.” 

Your knees buckled, every brush of his cock within your snug walls weakening your resolve as he fucked you into the mattress. His pace was relentless, punishing, and it was all you could do to lose yourself in him completely. 

“Don’t fight it, bella.” Theo murmured as he hiked your legs up over his shoulders. “I could be so good to you.” He punctuated his statement with a slam of his hips. “I know everything about you. Probably better than you know yourself. I’ve watched, I’ve waited, I’ve wanted.” Another slam caused you to writhe and arch your back off the bed. “No one else could ever love you like I do.” 

A breathy moan pushed its way past your lips without your consent. Self-loathing made you flush with embarrassment; your body was betraying you in the worst way as your own slick dripped down your thighs while Theo angled your hips to sink in deeper. He had spoken true about knowing you better than you knew yourself, because he seemed to know how to caress you, how to kiss you, how to command you until you were teetering off the edge once again. 

His long fingers circled your clit, stroking the sensitive bud in the exact same way that he had watched you touch yourself over the past few months. Theo was diligent in every sense of the word; his studious nature pushed him to perfection. The focus in which he devoted into pleasuring you was singular. He was obsessive and possessive; he was determined to make this good for you. His pretty girl deserved nothing but the best. 

“You can’t deny that we’re a perfect fit,” he murmured, dead-eyed gaze drinking in the sight of him slipping in and out of you. You tried to avert your gaze, but Theo gripped your chun and forced you to watch. “Look how well you’re taking me. It’s like we were made for each other, my love.”

Words failed you at the heat of the moment and even if you regained the ability to speak, you wouldn’t know what to say. Theo took your silence for submission, his lips pressed against yours, tongue sweeping over your bottom lip while he pounded into you. 

The instinct to fight dimmed with each urgent thrust, buried deep within the recesses of your mind. All you could do was moan in pleasure and Theo eagerly drank in every gasp and pant and whimper, studying your face as though he was committing every detail to memory.

“Please, please,” you panted. You weren’t quite sure whether you were begging him to stop or urging him to continue, but either way, Theo seemed to know exactly what you needed. 

His kisses were open mouthed and filthy, swallowing your protests with the flick of his tongue. You jerked when Theo slapped your pussy, chuckling against your mouth before he kneaded his thumb against your tender nub harder and faster. 

“Theo —“ The realization that your climax was near filled you with both excitement and indignation. 

“Be a good girl and come for me, Y/N.” 

You clenched as Theo squeezed your throat in his fist, momentarily robbing you of oxygen. Somehow its absence intensified the sensations. The combination of Theo pushing his cock into you again and again while his thumb stroked your clit harder and harder sent you barreling over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, making your legs shake and your walls spasm around his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Theo cursed, his resolve close to breaking. “Just like that, cara mia. Squeezing me so tight, milking my fucking cock dry.” 

Stars burst behind your lids as his balls slapped against your clit, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. Your mind went fuzzy with static. A faint ringing echoed in your ears while you trembled and convulsed. 

“Such a good girl,” Theo grunted as he chased after his own pleasure. You were limp and boneless underneath him, unable to respond save for a pathetic whimper. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, bella. You’re going to let me, aren’t you?” 

You started to shake your head, but Theo paid the action no mind. “Take it, cara mia,” he said forcefully. “Take my cock, take my heart, take all of me.” 

Your tits jiggled as he fucked you through his own orgasm, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled his thick, hot cum inside of you. His eyes rolled back at the thought of filling you and stuffing you full of his seed. It overflowed past your sensitive, puffy folds and dripped down your thighs. Even when he pulled his softening cock out of you, Theo made sure to push it all back in with his fingers. You whimpered at the sensitivity between your legs as he leaned back to admire his work. 

Theo seemed to take pity on you, tutting at the red circles around your wrist. “M’gonna take the cuffs off now, okay, bella?” 

You nodded, trembling slightly when he finally unchained you from the bed. Theo cooed over your raw wrists, kissing and fawning over the sensitive skin. Taking full advantage of the distraction, you snatched the knife Theo had carelessly discarded by his thigh and drove the blade into his shoulder. 

Theo hissed in surprise, his blue eyes widening. “You fucking stabbed me,” he declared incredulously. “You really fucking stabbed me.” 

“Oh my God —“ you sobbed, regret flooding you all at once as your hands shook over the blade. “Theo, I didn’t mean — fuck, are you okay —“ 

The shock caused you to let your guard down, tears streaming down your face as the realization of what you had just done crashed over you. Despite the blade sticking out from his shoulder, Theo seamlessly switched positions so that you were straddling his lap. 

Your right hand was frozen in place, still holding the blade while shaking violently. You expected anger and fear, but Theo only flashed you a lovesick smile as he wrapped his slender fingers around your wrist. “Don’t be shy, Y/N,” Theo teased. “You can do better than that, can’t you?” 

You screamed as Theo drove the blade further into his shoulder, the wound splattering a rain of blood all over your face and hair. “Stop, stop it! Don’t. Theo, stop, please —”

Theo tilted his head and examined you with a curious expression. His gaze softened as you sobbed and trembled in his lap. In his silky voice, he whispered soothing words in your ear and stroked your back to calm your growing hysteria. 

“Aw, you’re worried about me? That’s cute, bella.” The timbre of his voice almost sounded proud. “I wouldn’t waste your tears, though. I'll be fine. It’s just a silly little nick. Besides, now that I’ve had you, it won’t be that easy to get rid of me.”

You gasped as his hardness poked against your ass. How could he be fucking hard at a time like this? There was goddamn knife sticking out of his shoulder, for fuck’s sake!

“Look at you, crying over me.” His voice was husky with need as he rolled his erection against you. It seemed that not even a murder attempt could faze the man underneath you. If anything, Theo seemed turned on by it. God, he was so fucked up. “It’s a good sign, bella. It means that you care. To think, just moments ago, you said you hated me, but here you are concerned for my well being.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to listen to him speak. It only confused you more. Theo kissed your tears away and caressed your cheek. His violation of you earlier was a direct contradiction of the way he handled you with such gentleness and care, almost like you were something precious to him. You couldn’t reconcile the warring versions of him in your mind. 

“Please, stop,” you murmured as you tried to cover your ears. “You’re confusing me.”

“There’s nothing to be confused about,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Clearly, you care about me. Otherwise, you would have aimed for my heart.” 

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you whispered in a broken sob. “I just wanted — I wanted —” 

In truth, you didn’t know what you wanted. It was all too traumatic and taxing to fully process. Theo pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Shh, hush now, principessa. I told you, I’ll take care of you. You never have to worry about anything ever again. You can trust me, I promise. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. I’ll kill anyone who tries. I love you so fucking much.” 

Theo gently pried your wrists away and kissed your fingertips. “You don’t love me yet,” he admitted in a wistful tone. “But you will, bella.” 

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (deleted scene)

⟢Alastor x Reader - The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (A Valentino Production)

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual Deleted Scene smut 💦 📍

I simply couldn’t fit this in anywhere but it’s still a fun lil read so figured might as well share. Wrote back in like February 😅 you may see I cannabalized some lines from this as I never intended to post it

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader short smutty scene , love making???, Alastor is oddly affectionate and loving, you got him so fucked up, cream pie, riding him like a coin operated airplane in front of the grocery store, so like slow but still super fun?, deleted scene so starts and ends abruptly, redemption is for losers, Alastor moans」

Minors, hey,

hey

💥🗞️DNI

“I’m hopeless.”

“About what?” You glanced at him, a small laugh coming.

When he didn’t reply, you looked back at him, lingering a little longer.

His smile softened, eyes seeming to dilate ever so slowly as he stared. Finally, “Redemption. What a silly little thing.”

You hummed in agreement, going back to your phone, “Right? Who needs heaven when I have everything I need here.”

Had you said it on purpose? So easily cut into him? Was this surgical precision or dumb luck?

He laughed , “You always seem to understand perfectly, my little doe. How do you do it?”

Your smile reached your eyes, “I was made to be your undoing, remember? It comes naturally, mon cher.”

He pulled the phone from your hands and set it on the blanket, mouth coming to the well of your ear, “Say it again”

A chill ran down your spine, fine hair standing on end as goosebumps ran down your arm. “Mon Cher,” the words barely left your mouth before he kissed you, swallowing them into himself. Why? How? A hunger still foreign to him, rising from his lap and igniting his chest.

You felt his hands trembling on your chin, "Are you okay Alastor?

He shook his head no. "I want all of you, my love."

A word you hadn't anticipated. Hadn’t planned for. Hadn’t even dreamed of.

"You have my eternal soul, pretty sure I also threw my body into the deal," He kissed along your jaw then down your neck, making you sigh and relax against his mouth, "What else is there?"

"I don't know. I dont know what I'm saying." He pulled you onto him, setting you on his lap with bent legs holding you steady. Bringing you down for a soft kiss on your lips, "Why does heaven get to decide what redemption looks like?"

He moved aside your sleep shorts, humming happily to find you wearing nothing underneath.

Alastor famously hated you on top. You learned intimately what inspired him to be in the mood, and you on top was decidedly not it. He pulled down his own pajama pants, and began to rub his sticky wet head against your heat.

"Alastor, you -- I thought you didn't like me on top?" You asked, trying to not discourage him.

"I have an odd appetite today, dear. Entertain me?" He began to push in, hands coming to your hips to bring you down onto him. You rested both hands onto his chest for balance, breath already quickening with the burn of him stretching you out first thing in the morning.

When he began to lift your hips and move you up and down his length, you could understand why this would still satiate him. He was still taking the lead, still the one in control.

But something unusual was happening, he was uncharacteristcally vocal. Normally, the only sounds during sex with him were your own pants, his breathing, and the sound of his body slapping into yours. A rare moan tumbled from his mouth, making you clench around him. You licked your lips, wanting another. His eyes were on your connection, watching himself sink into you and disappear entirely. His face was…indiscernable. Somewhere between entranced and desperate.

You took a chance, seeing he was in a different mood than ever before. Putting his hands in yours, you brought them off your hips and laced your fingers into his. As his hands met yours, you leaned into them and let him hold your weight as you rode him. As you tried to find a pace, you watched his eyes tighten close, another breathy moan forced out of him.

Oh, the things that sound did to you. Was this was how good he felt when he was fucking you? Was this that high he seemed to be chasing every time you eagerly let him pin you down?

Unpracticed and clumsy, your hips rolled over his cock. Soon you were letting your full body weight fall into his lap as you plunged him as deeply as you could. You leaned in for a kiss, your own motions making your mouths slide over each other as your lips tried to make contact in the right places. Failing, you left kisses on his chin, his cheek, just below his nose. Another moan, a sigh, then--- did you hear your name ghost over your mouth?

That was all you needed, you slowed and ground down on him, friction bringing you to the edge and tossing your body over it with a violent shudder.

As you stilled, trying to ride out your orgasm, Alastor bucked up into you. A little scream as your softened walls jumped at the contact. Another thrust up, until he was fucking you through the after effects of your orgasm, chasing his own. You wanted to say something, but you didn't want to push. This was already so out of the norm, you felt the moment was fragile.

He whinced, a series of moans threatening to make you cum all over again as he met his release. You could feel his cock jerking inside you, twitching as he flooded you with his seed. What a lovely feeling, warm and full. You wanted to roll off before you dripped down him, another thing you knew he was uncomfortable with. But when you tried to move his hands went back to your hips and pressed you down. His head pushing deep against the end of your cunt.

"Please, just-- stay like this for me." His voice was low and soft against your cheek, a loud crack of static peppering his voice.

You'd stay like this until the inevitable heat death of the universe if he asked. You'd never leave his cock if he so much as mentioned the idea.

[whoops-all-jennas]

Every Universe - w.a.

Wednesday x witch!reader

"Do you think we're friends in every universe?"

"I hope so."

Summary: You and Wednesday are walking to Jericho after Wednesday had her vision in the meeting house. You have a question for Wednesday which gets her stuck in thought.

Past Lives one-shot

a/n: might have somethings that don't make sense if you haven't read 'We'll Meet Again' or 'Past Lives' but most of this doesn't need that context.

My boots squish into the mud of the dirt path, the rain just stopping a moment ago. Your shoes follow the pace of mine, meeting the same muddy fate.

There is a comfortable silence between us. We never had to try to force conversation, satisfied with merely the presence of one another.

"This is a stupid thought." You begin talking over the occasional patter of water dripping off the leaves. "Do you think we're friends in every universe?"

I stop in place, my boots sinking deeper into the mud. You halt beside me, finding my eyes with yours.

"Like, maybe we're Sherlock Holmes and John Watson." You say with a smile, looking into my eyes as I respond with silence.

You look at the ground with an embarrassed smile as you continue walking. "I told you it was a stupid thought."

You walk ahead of me for a moment, the squish of muddy footsteps filling the woods.

I find myself stuck in place, as if the mud was holding me. The only thing I can think about is that red string.

I find myself smiling as you pull the lever on the blue slushie machine for me. "Tell me when." You say with a smile.

You stop before the blue ice overflows out of the cup. "I didn't say when!" I say, teasingly.

"It was going to spill over, Vada." You grab another cup, holding it under your favorite flavor before looking at me with an expecting glance.

I pull the lever, the colored ice filling the cup.

"When." You say, a playful smile creeps up on my lips as I don't let go.

"Stop!" You playful shout, pulling the cup out of the way as it overflows.

"Vada!" I can't help but giggle as you grab a bunch of napkins to clean your cup.

We're both walking down the street, the lights illuminating our dark path. I hold a grocery bag of sweets and other snacks in hand, my slushie in the other.

I glance at you as I loudly sip from my cup. You're staring at yours, lost in thought with a smile on your face.

"Do you think we get to do stuff like this is every universe?" You say quietly.

I stare at you for a moment, admiring your cute sentiment.

"Of course!" I say with a wide smile.

You raise your eyes from your cup, finding mine as you return the smile.

I'm reading your poem silently as you stand in front of me awkwardly. The warm lights of my bedroom creating the perfect cozy aesthetic.

Your poem clearly follows the idea of two souls destined to be together, no matter what.

I look at you above the paper after I've finished reading, unsure what to do or say.

"So, what do you think Cairo?" You ask, curiously.

I take a deep breath. "I'm not a big fan of the idea of soulmates."

You look at me confused. "What do you mean?"

I stand before sitting next to you in my bed. "Soulmates are destined." I say, holding my eyes onto yours.

"The idea of destined connection dilutes the experience of love." I inch closer, putting my hand on your bare thigh.

"I prefer the idea that we're together because we choose to be, our souls breaking the quantum chains that bind us apart just for a chance to feel each other's touch a moment longer."

You shiver as I caress your thigh. "The feeling of you forever lingering on my skin, itching for just one second longer, as if that would be enough to satiate my hunger."

You're eyes look through mine with infatuation, my 'fancy words' as you would call it always had this effect on you. I move my hand up to your cheek, looking into your eyes lovingly. "Our determination for just that one mere second guiding us in every universe. Even if fate defies us, we would rather die trying than to spare another moment apart."

I slowly bring my face closer to yours, feeling your unsteady breath on me as I glance at your perfect lips. "I would choose you in every universe. Not because we're destined to be, but because there is no one else I'd rather have."

You grab my face, pulling your lips to mine hungrily. Your arms move down, wrapping around my neck as you pull me down to lay on top of you. As our lips touch, I ingrain the feeling permanently into my mind.

I murmur awake to the sound of a heartbeat monitor. The pain of all my wounds from the Ghostface attack quickly settling in as I open my eyes.

I feel another sensation, the feeling of your hand in mine. After I recognize this feeling it's as if all my pain fades away.

My eyelids finally finish prying themselves apart to find you asleep by my hospital bed, hunched over in a chair. Even as you sleep, you tightly grip my hand, as if you're you're afraid you'll let go.

I find myself smiling, admiring you at my bedside. I squeeze your hand in an attempt to wake you.

You squirm a bit in your seat, your grip tight as ever.

Your eyes open, adjusting to the harsh fluorescent lights.

"Tara!" You jump awake, a noticable weight off you after you see my smile.

Your grip loosens for a moment before squeezing my hand once again. "I uh- How're you feeling?"

My smile widens under the mere presence of you. "Better now."

You place your other hand over mine, caressing my knuckles lovingly. "I'm not leaving this hospital unless you're leaving with me."

I find myself lost in your hands, watching your thumb gently move between my knuckles as if I could break if not handled with care. I always loved how gentle you were with me. You manage to make me feel like a beautiful flower, scared to damage my petals and stem that I only see as a part of me, but you see it as so much more.

"I hope you're there for me in every universe." I say, looking up from your gentle hands to your eyes. "I don't know how well I would have handled this on my own."

The heartbeat monitor fills the momentary silence between us, words forming in your thoughts.

"I know I'm there for you in every universe, the same way you're there for me." You look into my eyes as if they were windows, your emotions passing through with ease.

I focus on the caring sensation of your touch, allowing your love into the windows to my soul.

I look back on the vision of our past selves I had in the meeting house, feeling the red string that binds us inside me.

"Wednesday?" You ask, stopped ahead of me.

I pry my boots out of the mud, the deepest it sunk into the ground. My squishy footsteps fill the woods as I catch up to be by your side.

"I believe we're together in every universe, whether it's because we found each, or because we choose to." I say, attempting to hide the emotion that so strongly desired to be on stage.

A genuine smile replaces the embarrassment on your face before turning to continue walking, our comfortable silence resuming as we head back to Jericho.

a/n: heyy hope you enjoyed this super short thingie. I plan on making more past lives one-shots before s2 of Wednesday releases. feel free to request ideas for that :))

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Bad Decisions (+18)

Bad Decisions (Sanji x f Reader)

Summary: Your hunger and your impulsivity both get the best of you and you end up in a compromising position. You ask Sanji for help, but it might be even more important to him than it is to you.

Pairing: Sanji x afab!reader

WC: 3500+ oops

TWs: vaginal sex, pet names, oral sex, fingering, crying, begging, virginity loss, it's porn with a brief plot idk man

You were starving. You and the crew had just finished a rough fight on a random island and brought back several chests and bags of treasure back to the ship. For over an hour after your return, you sat on the wooden floor of the deck with Nami going through bags full of gold, silver, and rare jewels. 

“Once we find somewhere to turn all this into berries we can buy the CUTEST new outfits!” Nami shouted with her back to you, head buried in a treasure chest.

“Nami your closet can barely close and you still have stuff with the tags on it, what the hell do you need new clothes for?” You quipped back while rummaging through a burlap sack.

“I’m a pirate, I can do whatever I want y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and continued going through the bag. Your hand felt something… fleshy? Like the soft, tender skin of a banana. You grabbed it and pulled it out to see a strange pink, oblong fruit. Your immediate thought was that this was a devil fruit, but it didn’t bear the signature swirled texture. 

“Nami... come look at this…”

A door was suddenly flung open from the galley. 

“Hello my beautiful girls! I’ve prepared you an aperitif to keep you satiated before dinner is ready! My sweet y/n here-“

Sanji stopped in his tracks after his sudden intrusion.

“Where the hell did you get that? Put it down!” Sanji swiftly placed the tray he was carrying on a barrel and snatched the strange produce out of your hand. 

You were confused as to why Sanji suddenly looked so concerned. 

“Sanji what the fuck is your problem? I found that fair and square!” You snapped at him, your piracy-addled brain wanting to keep it for yourself since it was clearly of value at this point. He held it behind his back as you approached him.

“Mon amour you don’t understand, this is a very dangerous berry and should not be consumed under any circumstance.” Sanji stepped forward, eyes dark with concern.

“Ok weirdo keep your purple banana, I’m here for the diamonds.” Nami said as she carried several of the bags downstairs on the Sunny to the storeroom, leaving you and Sanji in a stalemate on the deck. 

“I’m putting this away.” he said as he walked back into the galley. You followed him quickly, not even letting the door close behind him before threw it open behind you and snipped at him.

“Ok give it up cook, what’s your deal with this thing? Why is it dangerous? It’s not a devil fruit, right?” 

“You don’t understand. These are very rare fruits that are native to the South Blue. I’ve only heard tales from patrons at the Baratie of what this can do to you. It’s the worlds most powerful aphrodisiac.” Sanji’s hands were shaking as he placed the fruit on the kitchen island. 

You snorted trying to keep your laughter in but it fought its way to the front. “Hahaha oh stop it! Those are old wives tales, Sanji. If it’s not a devil fruit, it’s harmless. You’re afraid of it, why? Afraid that it will make you what? Too horny? Come on, be serious!”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack, love. You have NO idea what this can do to someone. And there’s only one way to reverse the affects.” He met your gaze with his last sentence. You expected him to wink or pull something perverted, but his blue eyes showed nothing but worry. You sighed and backed off, realizing that the fruit probably wasn’t worth any money. You returned to the deck and going through the bags Nami left behind.

—-

After another half hour of treasure picking, you heard the growl of your stomach and was painfully reminded of how hungry you were. You silently cursed the curly-browed chef that dinner was taking so long. You made your way to the galley to see how the cooking process was going. 

You walked in to find an empty kitchen. Sanji was probably out having a cigarette. He stopped smoking in the kitchen as much after Robin found a pile of ash in her scrambled eggs one morning. Sanji felt so bad that he cried and groveled for three days. 

You remembered where Sanji stashed that fruit in the ice box. 

Curiously you lifted the lid of the ice box and grabbed the strange berry. As you rolled it in your hand inspecting it, your stomach panged again. Long term thinking had NEVER been your strong suit, hence why you ended up on a dangerous pirate crew with little experience at sea. 

Impulsively, you popped the fruit in your mouth. 

And god, fuck, it was the most magical taste you’ve ever experienced. It was like dark chocolate, raspberries, lavender, all the most tender, delicate flavors rolled into one. You audibly groaned as you tongued it around your mouth. You didn’t want the experience to end but you had to swallow. Right as the fruit hit your stomach the door to the deck opened and there was your blonde lovecook. He looked at you, then at the empty fruit stem in your hand. 

“Tell me you didn’t…” he stood there, mouth agape. 

“So what if I did? I was hungry and you’re dragging ass with dinner. Those stories aren’t even real, I’ll be fine.” You confidently strode towards him trying to move around his tall, slender frame when he grabbed the sides of your arms and forced you to look at him. 

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW DANGEROUS THIS IS?”

“Get off me!” You were young but you were strong and you shook off his grasp with ease. “I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about me. I can handle myself.” And you ducked past him and walked out onto the deck and back down to your room. You would be fine, right? He had no evidence other than stories from dirty old men on the Baratie. You spent awhile in your room reading before the crew was called for dinner. It was a beautiful spread. Luffy was dominating the serving platters while you sat next to Robin and joked about something gross Franky had done earlier in the day with a large bottle of cola. 

Halfway through the meal you started to feel warm. You ignored it, blaming the summer heat. But the warmth grew, spread to your cheeks and deep in your tummy. Your skin felt like you had a fresh sunburn. Robin rubbed your arm accidentally while laughing at a joke and you jolted forward, your skin being so sensitive and hot. 

“Are you okay y/n?” Robin asked looking into your eyes, visibly concerned.

“I’m fine I think… I think I’m just tired… maybe I need to go to bed.”

You looked across the wooden dining table and Sanji was staring directly at you. He had clearly been watching you the whole time, eyes filled with concern for your physical state. You ignored his glare and excused yourself back down to your room. This feeling was unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. It was like static electricity going straight through your veins. You went straight to the bathroom and splashed cold water on your face repeatedly. After a big sigh you buried your face in a towel. Looking up into the mirror you notice something. Your nipples were completely erect. 

You couldn’t possibly believe that this fruit did what Sanji said it did… but you realized you were growing increasingly wet between your legs. 

“You’re kidding…” You audibly curse to yourself. 

You went back to your bed and grabbed your book to start reading and calm yourself down. You stared at the pages, your brain unable to focus on any of the words, only able to focus on the electric feeling in your body. 

Your body was no longer just hot, it was BURNING. You were wearing a large grey t shirt and light pink panties. You look down and see that you’ve soaked them completely through. Frustrated, you throw your book on the table and lay fully on your back. You want to resolve the issue quickly without problems so you reach your hand down into your underwear and start to circle your clit with your right hand. 

It wasn’t enough. 

You insert your pointer and middle finger inside of yourself the way you always do when you need to release. It wasn’t working. You were hurting. It simply wasn’t enough. You kept trying. You were panting and sweating, your hair plastered to your forehead and grunting in frustration as you struggled to reach a peak. Your skin was so sensitive but you simply couldn’t get there. You were starting to feel sick…. The hot, sweating feeling becoming too much for your brain. An idea suddenly hit you-

“There’s only one way to reverse the effects.” Sanji. He knew. He knew how to fix this. You sprinted out of bed, still in a t shirt and panties and grabbed your baby den den mushi and called the Sunny’s landline, knowing it was in the kitchen and Sanji would be there washing dishes. It rang. You waited. Sweat beads dripping down your forehead, pain radiating through your lower half, you kept waiting for a response. 

“Y/n? Mon amour? Are you okay?” Sanji’s concerned, deep voice came through on the line.

“No I’m not. You were right I was wrong, okay? I need you to get down here now.”

He breathed heavily on the other end, having an idea as to what you were going through. He didn't respond.

“Sanji. You told me you knew how to fix this. Please…” your voice was trembling and broken. 

As soon as he heard the desperation in your begging he knew it was serious. He had an obligation to his crew mate. 

“I’ll be there right now.” And he hung up.

Barely a few moments later you heard rapid knocks on your door and the knob turning. Sanji was fully unprepared for the sight he saw when he entered your room.

There you were. Laid out on your bed, but thighs clamped together so desperately trying to get any sort of friction on your aching clit. Sweat from your neck had stained your large, old t shirt. Your breathing was so heavy he could see your breasts rise and fall tiredly, clearly not wearing a bra. 

“I told you not to do this…”

“Okay! I know! I get it! I should have listened to you! But right now Sanji I-… I need your help.. please…” 

He had imagined it so many times… you spread out in bed, begging and pleading for him. Was he dreaming again? He fisted his cock late at night so often thinking about this exact situation. But as a gentleman he was hesitant. Would you be begging for him like this had you not ingested that fruit? Would it be right to touch you like this? You weren’t drunk, you weren’t on drugs, but is it right? His brain was going a thousand nautical miles a minute until you spoke again.

“Sanji…”

You looked at him as you sat up on your elbows. You let your legs fall apart as far as they would go so he could see the massive soaked spot on your panties. 

“Sanji please… it hurts so much…” 

Hurts. You said it hurts. You were in pain. He could see the tears threatening to fall from your lashes. He has never seen you like this a day in his life, even 2 years ago when you first joined the crew and you were new to piracy. He had seen you take blade slices and Chopper sewed them up with no anesthesia and you barely winced. He could barely imagine the pain and frustration that was causing you to have this reaction now. He vowed to never leave a woman in distress, and you certainly were. 

“Let me go get Chopper, he will know what to do.”

“NO!” You shout at him. “Don’t you dare tell anyone on this ship what happened. You said you could help me and I need it.” You were pleading with him. He saw the look in your eyes. So much desperation. So much lust. How could he leave you writhing in all this pain?

Screw it. 

Sanji quickly slips off his shirt jacket and it falls to the floor. He strides toward you loosening his tie. He sits down next to you on the bed. He was more than a little hesitant but he couldn’t resist anymore.

“I need you to understand... that if I help you with this… we won’t ever be the same… I need you to tell me that’s okay.” 

You grabbed his hand. It was so soft and delicate in yours. Slender fingers slotting in between yours. You looked up into his all-blue eyes, you could see the worry. He looked at you like a porcelain doll that he might break if he takes it off the shelf to play with. But you could tell deep down, he wanted to play.

“It’s okay. I need your help Sanji. Please help me.” You breathed out, the feelings getting so much more intense. Your pussy was clenching around nothing after just feeling his hand in yours… your pulse was so high… You needed release soon or you thought you might have a heart attack.

“Fine. But if anything feels wrong you’ll tell me to stop, love, right?”

You nodded your head aggressively and lifted your torso off the bed and removed your shirt. Tossing it aside you then shimmied off your panties, leaving your body fully naked on the bed for him. He had never seen something so beautiful… pert, full breasts heaving on your chest, a sheen of sweat covering your skin. A puddle was forming on the sheets between your legs…. He knew this wasn’t normal. The wetness your pussy was experiencing was nothing human at this point, dripping far more than was normal for any biological person. It was clearly aching.

Sanji got to his knees at the base of the bed, fully taking his tie off now and undoing several buttons of his dress shirt. “Ok love, I’m going to fix all of this.”

He grabbed the backs of your knees and yanked your sweat covered body to the edge of the bed so that he was face to face with your hot, dripping sex. 

“Merde…”

Sanji knew this was his dream. Sure the All Blue was number one but this was the best thing he’s ever seen or smelled. He leans forward towards your bare pussy to deeply inhale your scent. You cover your face, embarrassed at his lewd, perverted actions.

“Sanji please…” you were whining and writhing, waiting for him to touch you. 

He firmly grabs your hip with one hand and holds you down while he spreads your lips with two fingers from the other hand. No longer able to resist your sopping cunt, he dives in immediately and latches onto your throbbing clit. 

You scream out underneath his touch, your skin so painfully sensitive that it feels a thousand times more pleasurable with his mouth. You moan loudly as he laps and sucks at your most sensitive area. With the affects of the fruit and the pleasure Sanji is giving to you, your brain short circuits. You instinctively fist his blonde locks and pull him deeper into your cunt. You needed release and you needed it now. 

Sanji was in Heaven, your sweet sounds and the taste of your rapturous pussy he could barely think straight. Things were going beyond well… especially for someone who has never done this before. Sanji has never touched a woman, let alone had sex. This was a show. He snuck some of Robin’s erotic novels months ago and tried to understand  how to please a woman should the opportunity arise. Sanji’s hands were shaking on your thighs, trying to make sure everything was perfect for you. He remembered reading that having fingers inside a woman feels good when done right. He inserts two fingers and crooks them upwards, pulling slightly while his lips were wrapped around your clit and you shouted out in pleasure.

“Sanji! Oh my god! That’s it, please! It’s perfect, right there! Don’t you dare stop, please!”

Hearing you simultaneously praise and beg him made his head swim. He never thought he’d be able to pleasure a woman like this. He ruts his crotch into the side of the bed as he slurps down all of your sinful juices, trying to suppress his own sexual desires. 

You felt the tension and in your belly start to reach its peak and you aggressively grabbed Sanji’s head.

“Im… cumming!” You shrieked as you released all over his face. You laid back and heaved and felt relieved.. but only for a moment… 

He pulled off of your cunt, goatee soaked in your release. He greedily licks his lips, smirk forming at the corners.  

“My love… it was the best meal I’ve ever eaten in my life… and as someone with a refined palate, I simply can’t say what an honor it’s been.” He tries to compose himself and put his tie back into place as he stands up from the bed. You grab his wrist. 

“Sanji… I need more… all of it… please…” 

He couldn’t believe that he was hearing. Was this it? He needed you almost as bad as you needed him at this point. 

“My darling… do you mean that?” He asks hesitantly

“Of course I do. It still hurts, Sanji. I can’t get rid of this unless I feel all of you inside of me… please…”

Sanji rips off his clothes at lightening speed, stumbling over his trousers in the process. Thick cock slapping his stomach as he pulls down his briefs. He climbs back onto the bed and hovers over you. Remembering the books he read, he grabs an extra pillow and shoves it under your ass, grabbing an experimental squeeze as he does it. You giggle.

“M-my love… I’ve… I’ve never done this before.”

You look up at him, shocked and bewildered. A virgin? Maybe it was because of the mysterious fruit’s effects, but this man had just given you the most earth shattering orgasm you’ve ever had. How can this really be his first time?

“Oh Sanji I’m sorry I just can’t help it, if you don’t want to-“ He cut you off with a sloppy, passionate kiss on your lips. It was messy, it was frantic, it was needy and so, so good. He pulls back panting and says to you, 

“I want to. My love, I want to more than you know, please let me help you.” 

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and reached up to cup his face with one hand and pull him into a kiss. With your other hand you reached down and guided his throbbing, virgin cock into yourself. 

Sanji groans against your lips, you suck a breath in, finally feeling the fullness your body has been violently craving for what felt like an eternity. He leans back from your kiss, seemingly trying to catch his breath and compose himself. He knew it would be good, but the feeling was far more than he’d ever imagined. Your insides were so warm, so wet and open for him, fitting him inside you so perfectly like the last piece to a puzzle. He was broken out of his trance by a desperate whine from underneath him.

“Sanji… baby please… I need more, fuck me now please?” You bucked your hips upwards into him deeper, trying to fuck yourself on his cock desperately trying to fix the painful ache in your lower half. 

He pulled out of you slowly, still hesitant as to what to do, this being the first time he’s ever made love to a woman, let alone someone he felt so passionately about. He leans forward and fully pushes his sensitive cock back inside of you and you let out a high pitched whine. He repeats his actions as he finds a comfortable rhythm. 

“Oh Sanji thank you so much, thank you so much, it feels so good baby, just like that…” You punctuated his thrusts with explicit compliments and loud moans. Growing confident, he leans back and places his hands on the back of your thighs and pushes them up to your chest. He speeds up his hips and you feel his thick cock reach the perfect spot at this new angle. 

“Sanji! There!” You were screaming at this point. Sanji had half a mind to cover your mouth, knowing every other person on the Sunny could hear you calling out his name in pleasure… but the other half? The thought of everyone knowing that HE was the one giving you such intense pleasure that you can’t help but shriek his name throughout the ship? That was the half that was winning. 

You feel like you’re about to explode. It was right there, you could feel it. Tears begin streaming down your face as your love cook destroys your sloppy pussy with vigor. 

“My love you’re so close, I can barely pull myself out… Please cum for me? Mon amour, I need to see it again. I need to feel you cum on me, please? You’re so beautiful when you cum, you’re perfect, darling, please?” Sanji was shamelessly begging you to release on his cock. He desperately drilled his hips into you, pushing your further up into a pretzel. 

“Yes Sanji I’m right there, fuck baby I’m cumming, SHIT-“ you screamed. The orgasm ripped through your entire body, unlike you’ve ever felt. It was an almost painful, intense pleasure. Sanji continued to plow into you, so incredibly close to his own peak, trying to talk you through it but your ears were ringing. 

“So perfect baby, such a perfect, gorgeous pussy. My perfect little pussy, so good for me…I love you so mu- oh my darling, I’m going to cum, please let me fill you!”

Your brain short circuited, so broken by your orgasm, body almost numb. “Yes of course, I want all of it Sanji please! I want your cum inside of me.”

And with that, he did. He moaned your name loudly as he slumps forward meeting your forehead with his. He lets your legs fall comfortably, but stays on top and inside of you. Nothing but heavy breathing and the sound of waves hitting the side of the ship could be heard. After a few minutes he pulls back and he looks into your eyes, seeing the relief, that you’re finally rid of your pain, he smiles. You smile back. You both start laughing. 

“Sanji, thank you.” You finally breath out after catching the giggles, not even believing what just happened. 

“It truly was my pleasure, darling. Just… just promise me you won’t do anything that stupid again?”

“After how incredible that was? I can make absolutely no promises.” You laugh. “Hey remember when you said you loved me?”

Sanji buried his face in your neck with a groan, clearly embarrassed and hiding his shame. It wasn’t a lie, he just knew you didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t know what to say, he wanted to throw himself into the ocean outside the window just to get away from confronting this. He pulled out of the crook of your neck to look at your face. 

“Y/n I-“

“Shhh…” you press your finger to his kiss-bitten lips. “Stay here tonight. We can talk tomorrow.” You assure him while stroking his cheek. Sanji sighs in relief, kissing you gently and laying his head on the pillow next to yours. With nothing left to say you both drift off to sleep, limbs tangled together on your mattress. You can talk about this in the morning.

xx

[sloanesallow]

need

Sebastian misses his girlfriend. The solution? Well, surprise her, of course! Alternatively, needy and greedy Sebastian. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), face-sitting, needy Sebastian and lots of cheesy dialogue. 2.6k words [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

Sebastian Sallow is an idiot.

He knows he’s an idiot and it isn’t because his roommates Ominis and Garreth tells him so almost every day. No, it’s because only an idiot—a needy, madman in love—would apparate, uninvited to his girlfriend’s flat in Marseille in the middle of the night.

This is the first time since the start of his romantic relationship with Sloane that they’ve spent significant time apart. While he works his apprenticeship at Gringotts in London, she is in the south of France, researching with an elite group of herbologists. Wary of the split from the start, time and distance has made Sebastian unwell, to put it mildly.

His need for Sloane is a thrumming pulse in his veins, an ache that won’t subside no matter how he tries to distract himself. To say he misses her is an incredible understatement. The separation gnaws at him, a relentless hunger that only her presence can satiate.

When did he become so co-dependent—or has he always been this tethered to her?

The yearning threatens to turn him mad. With an address and her in mind, he slips through space and time itself, traveling over six-hundred miles in the blink of an eye. Sebastian can smell the ocean when he materializes with a pop on a dimly lit street, glancing from the parchment in his hand to the placard on the nearby building.

He is an idiot, he thinks to himself again as he climbs the stairs as quickly and quietly as he can until he’s staring at the bronze number 8 pinned to Sloane’s door. It takes him several moments to collect his thoughts, practicing what he might say when she opens the door—Merlin, he hopes she’ll open the door.

What time is it?

His first few knocks are far too gentle, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear. Glancing at his surroundings as if he is being watched by some unseen force, he shuffles his feet and tries again, this time rapping his knuckles a little harder against the thick wood. Nearly a minute passes and he wonders how acceptable it would be to just break in when the door creaks open.   

Sebastian forgets how to breathe.

There she is, standing in the doorway—Sloane, dressed in the tiniest chemise known to mankind. Barefoot and bleary-eyed, she doesn’t seem to comprehend his presence, lazily covering her mouth as she yawns. His restraint is threadbare, fingers twitching at his sides as he resists the urge to yank her into his embrace.

“Do you always answer the door half-naked, sweetheart?” he teases, flicking his gaze from one exposed patch of skin to the next.

“I was asleep—” she mumbles half-heartedly, and he grins when realization settles across her face. “Seb—Sebastian!?”  

Fuck it.

He crosses the threshold, and Sloane barely has time to react as he plucks her up off the ground and into his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, soft hands framing his face as he kisses her like the greedy bastard he is. Sebastian kicks the door shut, relishing in the heat of her body against his. He kisses her until his lungs burn for air, pulling away just enough to alleviate the sting and look at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Where’s your bed?” he murmurs against her lips.

Sloane, in a surprised haze, take a moment to reply. “Down the hall.”

Sebastian steadily makes his way through the small dwelling until they reach her cozy bedroom, an organized mess of journals, potions, and plants. Her bed reminds him of the sleeping arrangements back at Hogwarts—large enough for one person, barely enough room for two. Good thing he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sloane lets out a breezy laugh as he flops her down on the mattress, her body stretched out for him to admire. He remains standing bedside, mirroring her delighted expression, thankful she didn’t have a negative reaction to his surprise. She watches him with sparkling eyes as he disrobes, haphazardly shedding his clothes until only his socks remain.

“Are you really here?” she asks as he shifts to hover over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. Her fingers trace the outline of his face again as if he is a figment of her imagination that might disappear.

“Yes,” he simply answers, momentarily slowing down to pepper her face with sweet kisses before trailing down the curve of her neck. She smells like fresh rain and lemon zest. “Have you been dreaming of me?”  

Sloane’s coy smile and brilliant blush is enough of an answer. Her breath hitches as he nips the delicate skin above her collarbone. “But why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” Sebastian teases, a devious chuckle echoing against her ear. He pulls back just enough so their eyes can meet. “I missed you.”

She sighs, something between pleasure and amusement. “It’s been—”

“Three months,” he quips. “I know. But…being apart from you, Sloane…it’s harder than I ever imagined it to be.” He steals a quick peck, and then another. “Work keeps me busy, but when I go home in the evening and you’re not there, I find myself…lonely.”

“And I can’t very well go sneaking into Ominis’ room,” he comments with only a little sarcasm. “Well, I could, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me waking him up for a snuggle.”

“Is that what you call it?” Sloane’s nose scrunches up as she giggles. “You really came all the way here to…fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” Sebastian murmurs, hanging his head at the tickle of shame that churns his gut. The optics of his impromptu visit made him out to be an even bigger cad than usual. “Good grief, woman, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“It isn’t like I’m spending every waking hour of every day in a perpetual state of sexual frustration—”

“You aren’t?”

He blinks, realizing Sloane is teasing him. She smirks, leaning up to kiss him in the soft way that always calms his heart. “I missed you too, Sebastian.”

For several moments they simply kiss, languid and unhurried despite the circumstances. A small part of him regrets this impulsive decision, knowing his time in Marseille is limited—a few hours at most. Time will tell if he’s inadvertently added to his suffering when he has to leave, not knowing when they’ll see each other again.

“How long can you stay?” she asks when he breaks away to kiss down her neck and shoulder, as if she can read his mind. Instead of answering right away, he follows the low line of her negligée, her breath hitching when he tugs the fabric down with his teeth.

“I have an appointment at the Ministry in the morning,” he says, words mumbled as he sucks her exposed nipple into his mouth. Sloane moans and it is a sound he’s been yearning to hear. “But I can be…late.”

Sebastian shifts, lowering his body down as he pushes her nightgown up, bunching it beneath her breasts. He kisses across her abdomen, dipping his tongue into her navel and grinning when she squeaks at the ticklish sensation. Sloane lifts her hips when he tugs at the band of her underwear, making it easy for him to peel them away and toss over his shoulder to join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

It isn’t until Sebastian is about to make himself comfortable between her spread legs that he notices something…different. He falters, eyes darting up to see Sloane biting back a cheeky smirk. His gaze drops back down to the apex of her thighs, where instead of the soft blonde curls he’s used to seeing, there is only bare flesh.

A strangled chuckle escapes him. “What did you do?”

“I did as the French do,” she simply explains, clearly amused by his bewildered reaction. “One of the other researchers here, a girl my age, insisted on taking me shopping.”

“Is this what they call shopping in France?” Sebastian sarcastically remarks, slowly brushing his fingers across her now smooth skin. Whatever Sloane’s response was to be dies on her tongue as she whimpers, hips twitching towards his touch. Fuck—she’s so warm, and soft, and he suddenly can’t wait to taste her like this.

Just as he’s about to dip his head down, a wicked idea flashes through his mind, a fragment of a fantasy he’d constructed while alone in his bed with only his thoughts and his hand. He pulls away, delighting in the mewling whine that slips from her lips. She watches him with a confused expression as he stretches out next to her, his head comfortably resting on the pillows.

“Straddle me,” he says, rather plainly, flashing a wicked grin. “Sit on my face.”

Sloane’s eyes widen and for a moment Sebastian is worried that he’s scandalized her, but he can’t take it back now. He licks his lips, carefully observing his sweet girlfriend’s face as she mimics the action, clearly envisioning the act in her mind. The second she moves, his hands are on her waist, helping to position her body above his. Her knees press into the pillow on either side of his head, and when she glances down, he thinks she must be an angel sent to escort him to the afterlife.

She flashes a shaky, uncertain smile, “like this?”

Sebastian groans in satisfaction, the scent of her arousal dizzying, intoxicating. She’s barely situated when he darts his tongue out, tightening his grip around her hips to keep her steady. He licks a stripe through her folds, repeating the action in broad strokes as he lavishes her, unable to resist. The taste of her is something he wishes to bottle, to drown in later when he’s forced to depart.

He wraps his lips around her clit, eagerly sucking the bundle of nerves that makes her quiver. Sloane’s breath catches, a broken whine spilling from her panting mouth as she braces herself against the headboard. Her fingers grip the wooden frame and her head sags forward, eyes clenched tight as she succumbs to his fervor.

“Rock against me, love,” he instructs, a raspy request made against her inner thigh. Sloane complies in a heartbeat, brows furrowing together in concentration. Sebastian supports her, his fingers squeezing around her hips as he guides her movements against him. “That’s a good girl—fuck—you taste so good.”

He’s relentless in his desire, desperate to feel her come undone. He pushes his nose against her, nearly smothering himself as he probes her entrance with his tongue, grinning when she makes a high-pitched, satisfied sound. Sebastian groans in response, gripping her tighter as her thighs begin to tremble, her body tensing as he edges her ever closer to oblivion.

“Sebastian,” Sloane gasps out, her voice a strained whisper, a plea laced with the ecstasy he’s drawing out from her. She arches, head thrown back as her chest heaves with every ragged breath. Her rocking becomes more frantic, seeking out the sensations his wicked mouth is conjuring.

Seconds later she shatters, crying out his name in a broken moan that nearly sends him over the edge as well. Sebastian holds her through it all, his arms moving to wrap around her thighs and waist as she convulses against him. All the while his mouth never ceases its frenzy, coaxing out every tremor until she’s slumped against the headboard.

When she starts to teeter, he’s there to catch her, gently placing her against the pillows so she can catch her breath. Sebastian is equally winded, but the slight sting to his lungs is worth it to see such a fucked-out expression on her face. He rolls to frame her body with his own, slotting his hips between her thighs so he can press his aching cock against the slick mess he’s just created.

“Do you need a moment?” he asks, gruffly. He balances his weight on one arm, using his free hand to tenderly cradle the side of her face. Sloane shakes her head, flashing a breathless smile as she shifts to accommodate his eager arousal. She hooks her legs around him and he reaches between them to guide himself, easily sliding into the tight warmth of her core.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside, Sebastian takes a moment to absorb the sensation, wishing he could stay with her—inside her—forever. His initial rhythm is slow and measured as he watches Sloane’s face, memorizing every flicker of pleasure, every sigh and crease that forms between her brows as she loses herself to the feeling. His pace gradually builds, intensifying with each stroke as the fire between them burns.

Sebastian gathers her hands in his free one, pinning them above her head as he shifts his weight to grind down, the angle allowing him to slip deeper. Sloane responds with a litany of moans, her back arching up to meet each roll of his hips. Eventually his thrusts grow more insistent, more demanding as he craves to see her climax once more. Her legs sinch around his waist and her walls clench around him, urging him on, silently begging for the release that is so, so close.    

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, both hungry and panting as the end draws near. Sebastian grunts as he ruts against her, completely losing control as her entire body shudders and tenses with the wave of her orgasm. His own builds at the base of his spine, a heat that threatens to consume him—and he might just let it. Before he can fully realize it, he’s spilling into her depths, the two crying out in tandem ecstasy.

The next coherent thought Sebastian has is when he’s blinking up at the ceiling, his heart still pounding in his ears from the intensity of their coupling. He attempts to steady his breathing, but it’s a lost cause. Instead, he turns his head to find Sloane in a similar state on her back, a content smile curling her lips in an adorable way.

She lazily glances at him and sighs. “I missed you.”

He nearly ruins the moment with a crass joke about her missing his cock, but decides that saying something earnest is better.

“I miss you every day, Sloane. And I can’t wait for you to come home,” he says, reaching over to delicately trace the curve of her cheek with his fingers. “Well, wherever you want to call home, that is. I don’t suppose you’d want to live in a tiny London flat with two other men–”

He stops when he realizes he’s rambling. 

“Anyways…” he sighs, brushing through her hair. “I am ready to spend every night like this.” 

“Every night?”

“Yes,” he quickly replies. “And morning. And afternoon. Every minute we can spare.”

Sloane smiles, and for several minutes they simply exist, gazing into each other’s eyes as the present and future looms. She exhales, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that he doesn’t want to see. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

“Are you sure you have to stay?” he counters, though he knows it would be unfair to ask her to come back to London. He attempts a tease, “you know, you could come visit me.”

“I could,” she agrees with a nod, though her tone indicates she’s skeptical. “But I don’t have roommates. Ominis may be blind, but he doesn’t need to hear us—” “Nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Sebastian murmurs, earning him a playful pinch. He sighs, closing the distance for a moment to kiss her, knowing their time is running out. “We’ve always been resourceful, sweetheart. We’d find a way to be together.”

The levity gradually melts into a content silence, Sloane scooting to nuzzle against his side with her head on his chest. Sebastian wraps his arms around her, his hands slowly caressing up and down her back until he can sense she’s drifted to sleep.

He’ll stay, just for a little bit longer.

[bonny-kookoo]

Ok, here we go.

For Lacrymaria Olor, I'm curious about JK's relationship with Hana, was he officially courting her before she left him? In which way is MC different from her apart from honesty?

Thanks 💜

A/N: Warnings for infidelity and emotional outburst. Flashback.

Every time she's done with him, he feels awfully.. empty.

She's his partner, obviously- he's chosen her after all, and she's chosen him. And yet, somehow, be can't bring himself to feel any fulfillment from her, no matter how hard he tries. She might be a good leader, a strong person, a very well fitted queen to be-

But she's greedy, weak in mind, and fails to see true value in things that matter. She has no patience, and no sense of appropriate self-worth.

She wants everything, and believes she's owed everything too.

He's long lost his emotional interest in her already, long before he even knew she was seeking another man to satiate her hunger whenever jungkook wasn't available. Her affection had soured at some point even before he knew that she was giving herself out to whomever wanted a taste of her. He's not sure why she does- but he knows that this has to stop.

"I want you gone." He tells her, as she runs her hand up his back from behind, intentions clear from the second she entered his bedroom. She's got the audacity to laugh and stay close, all while smelling like the cologne of someone else.

"Yeah, so you say every time." She purrs. "And yet you let me in, every time. I'm your queen-to-be, Jungkook." She chuckles, hugging him, leaning her chin on his shoulder. "You chose me."

"I chose wrong, in that case." He responds, body tense against hers. "The courting arrangements have already been called off."

"You're not serious." She scoffs, before she seems to sense that he is, as he spares her no gaze. "I've been nothing but lo-"

"You do not get to talk about loyalty, while standing in my chambers still wet between your legs.!" He growls, turning around to face her with an angry red gaze, eyes full of rage. "You have lost any sense of shame when you genuinely believed that I'm gonna do so much as touch you while you still reek of someone else!" He accuses, and she instinctively walks back, hands covering herself.

"It was-.." she stammers, visibly shaken by the confrontation. "You have to understand, you're always gone-"

"I used to tend to your needs daily, my love." He sneers, walking closer in a menacing manner, steps relaxed and confident, his presence clearly taking back control. "You simply got tired of just me."

She's silent, and he takes it as confirmation.

"You're greedy." He hums now, as her back hits the door. "You're a parasite. And I hope whoever's mind you've infested wakes up as well. Because I'm no longer a host you can feed on." He snarls, before the door opens. "Out." He simply commands.

And only after she's gone does he let go of his emotions, tearing the sheets to shreds until his hands bleed.

The room never to be opened or occupied again.

[necrobabexx]

Name: Mara Mac Cnáimhín Occupation: Professor  Age: 38 (this time)  Sexuality: Lesbian Species: Witch Clan/Pack/Coven?: Garnet Coven  Hometown: Messy Relationship Status: Messy Personality Traits: Hedonistic, Narcissistic, Ruthless, Ambitious, Scheming, 

tw: parental death, murder, human sacrifice, 

Ages ago, over thousand years past, a young girl was abandoned in a village so small its name has been lost to history, partially due to the fact that nobody ever bothered to record it, and partially due to the fact that it was one of the many casualties of the ever present advancement of the Catholic Church. Her early life was unremarkable, the story of any other common girl growing up in what would become known as the Irish countryside. Throw a stone and hit 20 girls just like her, bright but quiet, always watching, dark eyes taking in everything and storing it away for when it might become useful. She was 10 when the fever swept through her village, claiming young and old indiscriminately. Over the course of a few long weeks, she watched as over half the people who had made up her world took their last rattling breaths. Something shifted in her as she watched their bodies were carried out, at first carefully, and dragged with little decorum. The bodies were left out, exposed to the elements to slowly break down until there was only bones left, as was custom.

Two weeks after her parents died a group of druids came, drawn by news of the death and the sounds of carrion birds feasting on flesh. They helped those that were left alive, and eased the deaths of those who could not be brought back to health. The girl was taken in by the druids, they recognized the spark in her eyes, and instead of punishing her newfound fascination with death they embraced it and nurtured it. They took her away from that nameless village, and she traveled with them as she learned. Years passed, and overtime she became one of them, a druid in her own right who presided over death, who performed the human sacrifices their society sometimes called for, and nobody mentioned how much she relished orchestrating the death of others.

It was at one of these sacrifices that she met the woman that would change her life, a creature of the night with a hunger for blood. The druid had never met anyone with the same hunger and proclivities as she had, and with the scent of death pungent in the air she fell in love. With Eris she traveled, her hunger for knowledge never satiated. There was one thing in which they did not see eye to eye however. It was clear that one lifetime was not enough for them, and Eris offered over and over to turn her, but the Druid was not willing to give up her magic. A ritual was created, painstakingly researched and crafted, carved into the druids skin and packed with ink made with the dust of charred bones. That first resurrection was terrifying. No guarantee that it would work, and even once the resurrection took hold it took nearly 2 decades to know it truly worked. As the new body came to maturity the girl that had become so obsessed with death started to surface, like an alligator slowly thawing and resurfacing from deep beneath the ice the druid of death quickly became the dominant persona. Finding Eris, or rather letting the Vampire find her, was another matter entirely. But they managed it, life after life. After that first death it became easier, more expected. There was difficulty in the resurfacing, orienting herself in the new body, but with every death there was a new life, and with every life there was Eris.

In this life the druid was born to a pair of academic witches, with the name Mara Mac Cnáimhín. She was given lots of freedom as a child and that freedom led to exploration both academic and arcane. Members of the Garnett coven her parents set her up for success, and when the memories of the past millennia surfaced the transition felt seamless. The only hiccup in this life was the absence of Eris. Usually the vampire found her quickly after she came into her memories and power, but years passed and she was nowhere to be seen. Mara took it upon herself to find her wife, she thought she had succeeded when she found Eris’ best friend in Port Liery, and a club she supposedly owned. But three years have passed since Mara has arrived in Port Liery with no sign of her wife, and she is beginning to become impatient. 

Headcannons:  Mara is a professor at Tideview, check out her rate my professor sometime that shit is wild. She teaches in the sociology department.   Mara does not have much of an online presence beyond her academic publishing’s, and keeps her private life separate from her students  (though she does enjoy hearing their theories about her). She does her best to be unassuming, she goes to the farmers market on Saturdays, gets her coffee from Brewed Awakening, and performs black magic rituals under the new moon. #justgirlythings Wanted Connections :  tbd 

[demigod-of-the-agni]

PLEASSEEE TELL US ABOUT YOUR MYTHIC MUMBATTAN AU PLEASE PLEASEE

>:) very well, my people (currently screaming because i wrote a response but i accidentally CTRL+Zd everything out of existence lmao)

The Mythic Mumbattan AU is me pouring the following ingredients into an explosive mess:

Hindu mythology and Indian culture overload

college!Spider-Man shenanigans

revamping the original Spider-Man: India plotlines and expanding the lore

character studies!!! my favourite :)

a potential and self-indulgent crossover with another indian superhero (if we ever get there)

the horrors.

Pavitr and his personal cast!!! just!!!! THEY!!!!!!

(keep reading if you want more goodies >:D)

So the CoffeeBean is a coffeeshop that existed in the mainstream Marvel universe and in real life but that's another thing; the cast below frequently drop by to hang out with one another. The Mumbattan-equivalent of the CoffeeBean is actually the TeaHouse which is another real life thing but shh and so in-universe they're called the TeaHouse gang, but in my heart they'll always be the CBG 😌

Everyone goes to Brihanmumbai State University (BSU). Lots of crazy things happen here. Pavitr's relationship with the others is always in flux but ultimately they're super close with one another (fuck it, they might as well be poly). Their personalities I try to keep as close as I can to the mainstream universe E616 comics, but I'm being creative and letting a few things from the SMI comics and ATSV influence them:

Pavitr Prabhakar — Tamilar (Tamil); he has the charm and skills from his ATSV counterpart and the smarts from his SMI counterpart; he can be a bit of a jerk and a flake, but he tries to be a good friend, and is much more open than he was in high school.

Meera Jain — Kannadiga (Kannada); basically how I've written her in tibim: everyone's first impression of her is that she's carefree and seems to not worry too much about life. She secretly deals with a lot of self-doubt and personal fears, but the gang's presence is enough for her to push them aside.

Gayatri Singh — Gujarati (Gujarati); she's probably the most quiet of the gang, but undeniably the kindest. She's more similar to Pavitr, in that she's stubborn and quick to judge. She's the glue of the gang and always willing to extend a hand to others

Hari Oberoi — Maharashtrian (Gujarati/Marathi/Hindi); the son of the man who tried to bring literal hell to earth, but other than that he's okay. He's a people-pleaser despite having everything, and struggles with his own self-image and who he should become

Ekansh "Flash" Travasso — Goan (Marathi); the high school jock who's grown more understanding and compassionate. He knew Pavitr the longest, so they have quite an interesting collection of interactions. (ALSO I'M SO SORRY I WROTE THOMPSON IN THE ART POST INSTEAD OF TRAVASSO 😭 maybe i should go back and edit that)

Spider-Man is Spider-Man'ing. Mumbattan loves him (sort of. Inspector Singh has mixed feelings). But another question: why is that every where Spider-Man goes the demons of yore all start showing up and begin wrecking havoc? Why is that? I am taking the magic in Spider-Man: India and dialing it up to five million — horrors and magic of every kind! I can get my hands real dirty and /really/ push Pavitr to his limit >:)

That is all for now. There will be more characters, but they'll show up in time. Lots of stories too, all old and new and revamped and crazy, but they'll be told when they're ready. Perhaps this is enough to satiate everyone's hunger? (unless you want to know something else, then by all means go ahead and ask!!!)

[fartistt]

DRINK IT!

vampire au harbingers (signora, scaramouche, arlecchino, tartaglia, dottore) gender neutral reader content warning(s): blood, gore, pain stuff, death mention, some religious imagery a/n: happy halloween 🎃 i dont actually genshin so dont expect this regularly -🍝

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

LA SIGNORA!

—La Signora feeds from the heart. She demands nothing but pure devotion, nothing but your undying loyalty promised from her. Does the heart not represent love and passion? Where else would a vampire like her feed from you? Her cold fingers would trail against the fabric covering your torso so carefully, her nails pressing with just enough pressure to make you shiver. And when she sinks her fangs into the left side of chest, the chill of her breath that settles on you feels like the only reminder of the fact that she’s an undead monster of the night rather than a human lover whispering sweet nothings to you. The pain subsides to nothing as her fangs tear and sink into your soft flesh, and when your blood stains the crevices of her lips, you can’t help but think that she looks the most beautiful when she ravishes you.

Your vision spins, and you’re only vaguely aware of the pressure bubbling up inside your throat. You know you should be more wary of your surroundings, more wary of the fact that you teeter dangerously on the precipice of life and death, but you know your captor too well. She adores you, equally to the point of which you worship her, and she could never punish someone like you with something as permanent as death.

“Does it hurt, little love?” She cradles you in her lap. Her dress billows like flames around her, pooling in waves of velvet and ember by her legs. Her fingers play with the outline of your face, and despite the coldness that prickles your skin, you feel warm. 

You shake your head, unable to answer. Your own clothes are in tatters, ripped into small pieces on the floor and abandoned. Blood stains your chest, and a fresh pair of bite marks decorate the older ones on the left side of your ribcage. Through your hazy vision, you see La Signora looking down at you with a smile that she reserves only for you.

“Good.” Her fangs, dyed crimson, glisten like rubies. “I would hate to hurt you. But you wouldn’t mind. I know you wouldn’t. You love me too much.”

She’s right. Any pain might remind you of who you were before you became enamored with her. But everything outside of her embrace is unfeeling and unwelcome, and you feel happy when she holds you like this. She makes you feel needed, and in turn, you give the part of your body that befits your other half. It’s the only part she’s missing, but you have more than enough to sustain the two of you.

She leans down and presses her mouth against the top of your forehead. Her lips, always perfect and poised, are sticky and warm with your blood. A shiver trickles down your spine, and her thumb strokes the apple of your shuddering cheeks. The red drops of your blood spread across her mouth and your skin in a hauntingly twisted kiss, an oath and a reminder that you could never belong to anyone else.

“I love you,” she whispers.

SCARAMOUCHE!

—Scaramouche feeds from the neck. He hungers. Too monstrous to be human and too empathetic to be human, the vampire desires nothing more than the warmth and comfort of having his cravings satiated for once. There’s nothing that makes him feel more powerful than to hold you down and to take a bite out of your neck, to feel the vulnerable thrashing of your body as you cling to life. Spurts of your blood fills his mouth, and he drinks like he’s gone mad, taking in mouthful and mouthful, swallowing and sucking as if he’s a starved man devouring honey rather than a beast feasting on his kill. It’s only afterwards, when he sees your glassy eyes clinging to whatever strains of your consciousness that you can, does he realize the horror of what he’s done. But he can’t deny his nature, and for every step his human heart takes forward to give you the dignity you deserve, his vampiric instincts drag one back.

“Stay still! Stay fucking still!” A shrill voice invades your ears. You writhe against the hard floor, your limbs splaying out and struggling against whoever is pinning you down. He sits on top of you, his hips pressing down against your navel and his hands digging down on your shoulders.

Your throat burns. He takes bites of your neck like an animal, flesh and blood staining your skin and the air, the noxious scent of iron filling your nose. You scratch and kick at whoever is holding you down, and the boy sneers at you in between desperate mouthfuls of your blood. In between the adrenaline and the pain, you don’t know what your panicked mind can make out: is it fear that keeps you fighting? 

His fangs are attached onto your jugular, buried into your flesh. He drinks, and his lips are pursed around your skin, determined to drain you until you’re nothing but a shell. In his eyes, it’s clear that your humanity means nothing. After all, what is morality to a depraved monster like him? The only thing he can feel is the hunger that gnaws and claws at his stomach, demanding that he be fed before any sense of clarity can kick into his body.

Your defenses only still when your mind nearly goes blank. The loss of blood makes you go almost limp, strength escaping your body as the dark-haired vampire steals it out of you. He gasps and wipes at his mouth, the warmth of your blood spreading inside of him before he shoves himself off of you, practically collapsing next to you.

The boy cries. He scratches at his mouth, his voice almost like a scream as he buries his head in his hands. Gone is the bravado of the outcast vampire, journeying alone like a lone ship, and his decorated shell is peeled back to reveal the emptiness that remains underneath.

“I’m sorry-,” he sobs, cowering next to your barely conscious form. “I’m so, so sorry.”

ARLECCHINO!

—Arlecchino feeds from the thighs. She prides herself on her wisdom and her power. A true hunter stays a step ahead of its prey. An apex predator remains on the top of the food chain not purely because of its might or power but because of its wits, and like any vampire worth their reputation, she has cultivated her place in the world through careful planning and preparation. The thing to fear most from her isn’t her outstretched claws or the razor-sharp fangs waiting to dig into your veins; it’s the head atop her shoulders, always waiting and always thinking. What an honor it must be to see a woman like that on her knees, her lips hovering above the bare skin of your thighs and just waiting for the right moment to feed. It’s a faux show of intimacy as her mouth moves up higher and higher. Her tongue swirls around the puncture wounds left by her teeth, making sure she drinks up every last drop of blood that comes from you. Nothing escapes a vampire like her. 

You wonder if salvation remains for you. The place that Arlecchino calls home reminds you more of a gilded birdcage than that of a vampire’s rich castle, undoubtedly a Machiavellian reminder of what she’s capable of. You’re nothing more than a figurehead, seated atop a golden throne as she kneels before you, slotting herself in between your legs.

Sharp claws slide up your bare skin, and the cool air makes goosebumps prickle on the top side of your thighs. Your body feels weak, trapped in your own skin. Your strength has been sapped away by her feeding, and she looks up at you with unreadable eyes as the last of your blood disappears down her throat. 

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” She asks. It’s not a question she asks out of genuine concern for you. Everything she does is calculating and explicable only to her. But her intentions are clear this time around; you have to stay alive for her sake. Who else could give her the sweet blood she craves if something were to happen to you.

“Yes, Arlecchino.” Her name is like poison against your tongue, and yet you still let it linger anyway. You don’t have the strength to run away from her or to fight back. She’ll know the moment even the thought of rebellion enters your brain, probably faster than you’re aware of it yourself. 

She rubs the sore spot on your thigh, right where she had bit you. The flesh is numb and swollen, your body desperately trying to heal itself after the wound she inflicted onto you. This is what a true predator-prey relationship is like, with her keeping you in her grasp, knowing that you exist only to give her the sustenance she requires.

Truly a cunning woman. Not entirely heartless, but in that perfectly measured middle ground of both fear and respect.

“Good. It wouldn’t do either of us any good if you were to grow weak.” She rises from her feet, and you watch with hazy eyes as her snow white hair emerges into your view. She stands with her back straight and her head raised, peering down at you as if she wasn’t the one staring up at you with a mock reverence just seconds before.

A hand reaches forward, and her frozen palm cups your face. This isn’t affection, nor is it a reward. 

“Now rest,” Arlecchino commands unfeelingly, “Regain your strength so that you can sustain me.”

TARTAGLIA!

—Tartaglia feeds from the wrists. It’s wrong for a vampire to become fond of anyone, but that’s the predicament Childe finds himself in. You’re a human, vivacious with your own life and hope and dreams. You have likes and dislikes: things that make your eyes sparkle when you talk about them and things that make you scrunch your face up with scorn at the mere thought. How could he not be enraptured? He loves playing the role of a teasing gentleman. He loves the pursuit, winning over your trust bit-by-bit by seducing you with his well-timed charms. He finds it so endearing how easily you present him your hand when he bows before you, his once shiny eyes turning dark and sultry. Did you expect him to kiss your hand? No—that was never his plan. Not when he can sink his teeth into the veins in your wrists and drink to his heart’s content, the thrill of chasing you down just as sweet as the result itself.

The way the man in front of you steals your blood feels downright lewd. You’ve always known that there was more to Childe than he let on, more to him that the flirtatious young man that stuck to your side. You had constantly wondered what exactly he was after, but you could have never expected someone like him to have hid his fangs so expertly.

His tongue lathers and laps at your wrist. He sighs happily against your bloodied and torn flesh, like he’s laughing to himself and enjoying the gruesome sight of you frozen in your tracks, too terrified to yank your hand away from him or to even fend him off in any capacity.

“Don’t be shy,” he breathes. His exhales are like gusts of winter wind on your unassuming body, and it’s another horrifying reminder that the man you once trusted was never human to begin with. His true colors are showing now: a bloodlust-filled smile, an unforgiving grip on your arms, your very life force being shoved down his gullet. 

“You’re very pretty when you smile. Don’t you remember all the times you’d smile at me? I’d tell you my dumb jokes, and you’d laugh in a way that made my heart skip.” He licks his lips, and his mouth turns an even messier shade of ruby red. “At least, it would have, had I been alive.”

You’re at a loss for words. Your response weighs like an anchor inside your cheeks. Your lips tremble with fear. Is this man going to kill you? No, he wouldn’t. Not so quickly, not when he seems to be enjoying your suffering this much.

His tongue slides against the two clean puncture wounds in your wrists again, and you wince at the stinging pain that shoots up your muscles. He smiles into the curve of your hands. “But I don’t think this expression is all that bad either. I’ve never seen you make a face like that at me. I forgot how much fun it is to hunt someone down. I bet you never saw this coming.”

Childe smacks his lips exaggeratedly, generous rivulets of your dark blood trickling from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. “I want to see everything you have. Show me all the other parts of you that I haven’t seen yet. Let me be selfish with you.”

DOTTORE!

—Dottore feeds from the mouth. He operates on the tangible, the real, the pain and the catharsis of it. To feed doesn’t simply mean to nourish himself. He wants a reminder of his place in the world, the power he holds over knowledge and his constant pursuit of it, and he wants to see the effects seared in his wake. It isn’t enough to steal your blood, he needs you to feel it just as much as he does: the strength leaving your body and into his, his tongue lapping selfishly at your life force, the stinging pain and the numbing sensation making your knees buckle. Maybe he fits the role of the traditional vampire most closely, making sure you understand your inferiority in every single way as a human, that your existence is to be his experiment and his prey, that he can snuff you out like a candle in the dark if he so much as chooses to do so. 

There are bite marks on the bottom of your lips. Some have healed, the flesh scarring over into bumpy lumps, and others are still in the process. But the one tonight is fresh. They’re torn open, left there with a fury from Dottore’s pointed, jagged fangs. A strong hand grips your chin and keeps your face in place. 

His mouth is on yours, tangled in a kind of mangled kiss. He sucks and sucks at your lips, your blood staining every inch of your tongue and the inside of your cheeks, as if he’s reminding you of how monstrous he can be. There’s no rhyme or reason to your mind in his way of feeding, but to Dottore, it’s a constant reminder that you have no way of fighting back against him. For someone so cold and so heartless, it’s ironic that he kisses you so passionately to drink your blood. 

Tears well in your eyes when he pulls away, and a sticky mix of saliva and blood connects you to him momentarily before it snaps. 

“Does it hurt?” His voice is firm, scary. Each syllable is poised like a viper baring its fangs, waiting for a single sign of weakness to finish off its catch. He enjoys your suffering, revels in it, finds different ways to draw it out of you, yet the only constant is his insistence on drinking from your lips.

Your voice trembles, and you nearly choke on your own blood. “‘t hurts- Hurts a lot.”

He smiles behind his mask, and you shudder at the sight of his perfectly lined pointy teeth. Each one sharpened, it’s a mark of a true predator. 

And for a split second, you know why he drinks from your mouth. It’s his way of stealing every scrap of humanity from you, to steal something as primitive as the act of kissing from you, so that every part of himself is engraved deep into your own base instincts. 

“Good.” Strong fingers grasp at the fat of your cheeks, and he lowers his head so that he’s eye-level with you. You can’t see anything, not with that unfeeling mask in place, but Dottore’s evidently pleased with whatever he sees. Your face hurts where his fingers dig into your flesh, but when he drags his tongue across his blood-stained teeth, you know that this is only the beginning. He’s only gotten a taste of your blood, and a sampling is far from the amount he needs to satisfy himself. It’s only when you’re cowering on the floor, wasted beyond salvation, begging him for mercy, that he might decide that he’s had enough of toying with you.

The cycle is always the same.

Your eyes shake violently at the mental vision, and your chest tightens with cold anticipation. It’s dread, and it’s your body yelling at you in order to preserve your survival. But it’s futile. Not when he’s so much more than you are: stronger, faster, smarter. 

“I want it to hurt,” he mocks your horror-stricken form. “And I want it to always hurt.”

x

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

[gomzdrawfr]

Dragon!Price x Corvid!Raven AU

This brainrot has tAKEN OVER MY HEAD I SWEAR

bonus + some story if you're interested

bonus

okay so, the idea is that Raven is...predominantly a Raven hybrid(LMAO) but I figured to incorporate some of the Crow and Magpie habits into her

Basically, Raven's been travelling around after she was nearly killed by her kind(hence the scar on her face and the single wing - also a tribute to her actual lore where her back was stabbed), barely able to survive until she stumbled upon Price's den, and WOAH THATS A LOTTA GOLD

so it started off small, where she steals some gold, just enough to survive the week, but then the curiosity grew and she finds herself back to the den, over and over again

I mean there's so much more than just gold coins, there was a bunch of other treasures alike and they're all. so. shiny.

How could she resist?

and so day by day, she explores the den, it's absolutely massive, sometimes she might even slide down those piles of coins for fun

one day a glint caught her attention, it looked like a porcelain pale owl mask, and when she tries it on it was a perfect fit, she kept it afterwards.

the owner of the den seemingly never once appeared no matter how long she waited, and so she assumes it was a long lost forgotten treasure someone had.

she didnt had the intention to steal everything no, in all honestly the den was located somewhere far and dark, and it was only accessible by a very small hole that she squeezed herself through in her full bird form.

it was a safe place to stay and so she did.

until one day when she on her usual walk and picking up a crown that the pile of gold coins shifted, and it reveals......

bright orange scales.

and an eye, which opened once the gold coins stopped.

little did she know, the owner of the den, Dragon!Price has been hibernating beneath the treasures, and now he was awaken by a pesky bird.

YES think about that one scene in Hobbit this was 100% inspired by it

some Dragon!Price hc in this au:

used to take part in battles and territorial fights, which results in many scars, especial the one in his left eyes, one of those fight eventually results him to lost a wing(yes, bluegiragi with their single wing Price for credit)

prefer to be in his hybrid form where his half human half dragon, because being a big lizard boy takes up hella space and hard to satiate his hunger

but he does hibernate as a dragon cuz well he's home, and it feels great to be weighted down by all his treasures

very greedy, if he wants something he'll get it, also dragon hoarding tendencies

havent thought about this but I reckon this so call "den" is just a big hole underneath a castle maybe - ah well just yoinking Hobbit's Lonely Mountain

also possessive :]

Raven herself has shiny fur...and he loves shiny too....so..... :p

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 2 - Scattered

The rogue rolls a critical fail.

On AO3.

The Underdark is…something. Vast caverns, so tall the roof is hidden in gloom even Astarion’s sight cannot pierce. Glowing crystals larger than palaces in Baldur’s Gate. Glowing mushrooms, glowing creatures. That last point is becoming something of an urgency.

Astarion is long used to the claws of starvation on his innards. At best, his hunger is a barely satiated beast seething beneath his skin. At worst, it chews apart his mind until that’s all that stares out through his eyes, until every nerve, every twitch of his muscles screams and needs and his teeth ache and his jaw clenches so hard it sends pain lancing through his skull.

He’s about halfway to that point, currently.

He’s colder than usual. This is not helped by the cool air of the Underdark. His bones ache and his joints creak. He catches his fingers hooking into claws from time to time, and takes to pretending to fuss over his nails or his knives to hide it—said fingers are too numbed and stiff for anything like dexterity, anyway.

The creatures of the Underdark are a frustratingly skittish lot. He longs for a bear, a deer, even a squirrel. The thought of biting into it, smelling of clean sunshine and forest, the skin popping as his fangs pierce and that first gush of hot, salty blood—

“Did you hear me?”

The wizard. He’s talking.

“Oh yes, darling,” Astarion lies.

They’re all standing on the top of some tower belonging to some other mad wizard. Astarion wonders if that’s part of their schooling, towers and wizards. They always go for towers. Even down here, one of them has lost her mind to madness and not only built an entire tower of her own, but of course it’s laced with traps. Wizards love traps even more than vampires, he’s learning.

Their own wizard gives him a look, clearly unbelieving. Astarion gives him his very best “hello handsome” smile, and the man looks away, a touch flustered.

He wonders if the wizard would have been an easier target.

His current target is talking with some automaton. She’d gone directly for it. Speaking softly and deferentially, the way she does with the owlbear cub (Sweetums? Seriously?). It’s not a living thing, not a thinking creature of any kind, yet there she is, acting like it matters.

She does that a lot. Even to the gur she killed. It’s equal parts bemusing and befuddling. What kind of people even produce something like her?

He thinks, sometimes—though he’ll never admit it—that it might have been for the best that the mindflayers only snatched up one Earthian. The thought of multiples of her is disquieting. He’s not sure if they would be the most effective weapon the Sword Coast has seen in a century, or the most self-righteously insufferable gaggle of idiots.

Oh, now the automaton is hugging their most illustrious leader. How twee. He’s standing at an angle that he can see her hug it back, and he notices something. He’s seen hugs and been clutched at in passion. Most people grab (or claw). But this woman, his ally, hugs the metal monstrosity with…fists. Fingers curled in tight, thumbs tucked down. How interesting.

Then he catches the druid noticing the same thing, and the slight frown marring his enormous face—no elf, not even a half elf, has any right to be so massive. It’s absurd. The druid catches him noticing all the noticing, and he seems to be trying to communicate something. A question perhaps. But it’s not Astarion’s business, so he watches that question sail on by and makes no move to catch it.

And then everything goes to the hells. Their leader says something, or the automaton does, or maybe one of their merry band breathed wrong. It really doesn’t matter. It’s a mad wizard’s tower; it doesn’t need to make sense.

The light thrumming through each automaton—because of course there’s more than one—turn red. Apparently, that’s a signal even on other planes, because their illustrious leader’s face goes blank in a very particular “oh shit” kind of way, and she says, “Ah fuck.”

It gets a bit messy after that. Spells fly. The wizard shouts something and a nearby automaton shatters into pieces. The gith and the tiefling both hack at the big one. And their leader, who is the only person in the entire party—himself excluded—who shows the occasional modicum of sense, scrambles to get clear of the whole thing.

They metal monstrosities notice. There’s a strangeness about her that he’s getting used to; a kind of hum clinging to her skin whenever he gets near. Makes his teeth itch. But it draws attention and one of the automatons sets its sight on her and lifts an arm crackling with arcane power.

He’s got an arrow knocked. But the angle isn’t good. He takes two steps to the left—

Two things happen:

He lets the arrow loose and it flies true to bury into the facsimile of a metal face and the beastie goes down twitching.

And the ground beneath his left boot flashes. Which sets of glyphs all across the room.

Their wizard notices immediately. Has enough time to turn directly to Astarion and snap, “I knew you weren’t listening to a word I said—”

And everything lights up in horrible, searing light.

***

It lasts less than a moment. Less than a blink. Then Astarion stumbles forward—the damned hunger making him so ungainly. The tower is dark. Completely dark. Not a single mote of light, though he blinks and rubs his eyes several times.

Hells.

“Wizard!” he says. “We need light over here!”

But his voice echoes. It did not echo this way before. The sound is longer, goes much further, doesn’t bounce off ramparts and automatons and his wretched party. This time, it keeps going. Echoes off something far, far in the distance.

…there’s no other sound.

Astarion is an elf. Was, rather. He’s had excellent hearing since he can remember. Then he became a vampire spawn and everything got so much louder. The Blade had said he thought vampires could hear the stars twinkle, which was just silly. But he can hear heartbeats. Sighs. The soft squeak of leather boots as someone shifts. The gurgle of innards as stomachs digest (which in the first days was insufferable but has become something rather more…routine).

Now?

He hears air move. Water drips somewhere distant. And his own clothing rasps as he sways, trying to keep his balance in the oppressive black.

He’s alone. He can feel it.

“Wizard?” he says. The echo again is long and narrow. Somewhere closed in, but with an open way forward.

The panic is familiar. The taste of rotten iron crawls up his throat.

Enclosed in the dark. Alone in the dark. Closed in, closed in, closed in—

“Eleanor?”

But no one calls back to him. There’s nothing and no one. He tries to take a step but the ground is uneven and he stumbles. Goes down on one knee in a burst of pain.

“Hells,” he gasps.

There’s rocks all around. Some the size of his head. Others large and jagged. His hands—bare, because they’d been clumsily fussing with traps and the growing clumsiness called for ungloved fingers—slap rough, sharp edges.

Hunger and cold and alone, all alone, clawing at the door master please I’ll be good I’m sorry I’ll never do it again master.

The tadpole shivers. Because he has one of those. He was abducted by mindflayers, brought to the Underdark—

He’s in the Underdark.

He scrabbles for that connection and all but rips it open—

To six other people. Shock and anger. He resists all that, someone shouting in outrage over the intrusion and he doesn’t care because that’s six other people and he all but throws himself into their midst. Thoughts jumble around him, a stone tossed into a stream: cold air, smells stale; a huge, glowing purple crystal the size of a bleeding house; something reeks of sulfur; dead fish; hard ledge oh fuck it’s too high and you’re too weak—

Slowly, they all coalesce back into more defined spheres of self. The others pull away, and after that initial blast, Astarion has the sense to reel himself more or less back in.

Where? One of them thinks which ignites like a trail of sparkpowder through all of them.

Scattered images: a pool of dark water, a field of orange mushrooms glowing eerily in the dark, an opening in stone lit by…is that lava?

They’re none of them together. They’ve been separated. And he can tell—they all can—that it’s over a vast distance.

This is why it’s dangerous to mess with waypoints, thinks the wizard.

A defensive spell has blasted them across the Underdark. Astarion, you idiot.

And he can’t let that stand. Would they rather he let that automaton blast their darling leader’s head off? How was he supposed to know some brain-addled wizard had set up a mad trap five inches to his left?

Because the wizard told him so, to his face, three separate times.

Then a surge of irritation. But from neither him nor the wizard. It’s their leader. And she flashes them an image.

Because they’re not speaking in words (none but the irritating wizard, anyway) (he takes offense to that) so much as shapes of thought. Visions, impressions, emotions. His brain momentarily processes it as words, but the initial connection is a sense of outstretched fingers. Her outstretched fingers. A distant sensation that registers eventually as one of them.

They can sense each other. Vaguely.

The memory of a portal, glowing incandescent purple as it swirls and crackles with magic. This is a question.

But the wizard shakes his head. “No. I don’t know the waypoints here and I can’t safely use that spell to open a portal without one. We all saw what happened after that gith attack. It could take us anywhere. Or trap us.”

They had found the man stuck in his own portal, so that makes sense.

“Are any of you near me?” the wizard asks.

He’s next to a waypoint stone. In a great hall somewhere. Huge pillars hold up a ceiling lost in the dark. The stone a set of glowing glyphs carved deep. The hall seems abandoned—save for ancient skeletons and rusted armor.

The wizard doesn’t even register to the faint proximity-feel Astarion grasps at.

Karlach is confused and a touch anxious (and a touch excited, for some godsforsaken reason). She’s nowhere near the wizard. Is surrounded by mushrooms that soar up on blue, iridescent stalks like shaggy trees in an ancient forest. There’s no sign of a cave rat, let alone a waypoint stone.

The Underdark is huge. They could be anywhere. It’s dangerous for creatures that have spent their whole lives down here, let alone surface folk traveling lost and alone. Searching blindly—

In his own body, Astarion snorts. The others are all near something glowing, while he’s stuck in some pitch black…somewhere.

—for a waypoint stone is asking for trouble.

And then they all see an image that makes no sense. A series of green lines all nestled within one another, like an archery target. Except another line sweeps in a circle through them all. And as it goes, it sweeps over several small, green dots that blink and beep. The lines makes several sweeps, around and around as two of those dots merge into a larger one and grow in size.

Radar comes a foreign word. And then something in his mind translates “combine into larger radar signature.” And then something about several balls set on a sheet draped tight, and a much heavier one added with sags the whole things, drawing all of them together, only it’s worlds somehow and something about a “gravity” and…what in the hells is a “space-time fabric?”

They can all feel the wizard vibrate with hunger.

That frustration again. Their leader disengages a moment, and he can actually feel her gathering her thoughts together and shuffling them around.

She senses one of them nearby. They all reach out and…and Astarion can feel it, too. A subtle pull through the tadpole. She’s closer to him than the others.

Their leader’s excitement. She throws them all another images, this time of water droplets on glass. Two of them run together. Form a bigger droplet that pulls the others in one by one.

Find another. Stronger pull on others that way?

“Yes,” the wizard muses. “That may work. You two find each other and we’ll check back to see if our perception changes.”

For being an illiterate yokel with a penchant for setting things on fire at range—and biting out throats in range—their leader’s thoughts feel sharp and solid. Like a blade. She makes a decision and that is her decision. It’s quite easy to go along with it.

“Until then, I propose we all stay where we are. It’s far too dangerous to go off willy nilly.”

Again, that agreement. And that blade of focus turns to point at him. Their leader isn’t all that far from him.

The connection dissolves. He’s once again on his own, in the dark, with pain grinding through his left knee. But their yokel leader is close. All he has to do is find her. Alone. In utter blackness not even his supernatural vision can pierce, standing in the middle of a boulder field.

But it’s that or stay where he is. Alone and blind, in the close, closed dark.

Time to move, then.

***

Notes:

Yyyyyeah. Realized if I do once-weekly updates it’ll be like, September before we get to the chapter I just finished and I don’t want to slow down that much. Plus having that deadline makes me go fast, which keeps me from stalling the hell out. So uh, updates once again on Wednesdays and Saturdays unless I get stuck!

Previous - Index - Next

[wineredsea]

✨Introducing my tavs✨

because I am unable to shut up about them I will now proceed to introduce my tavs:

(warning since one of them is a dark urge character!)

that‘s skylla! skylla brightsworn. she lived in elturel when she was young but due to her father deserting from the hellriders she and her parents (carakos and zagreia) left the city and hoped to build a new life for themselves in baldurs gate. as they travelled they got ambushed by goblins. she was able to hide but her parents left their lives dying due to poisoning. skylla made it to baldur‘s gate but spent many years on the streets until a bard decided to help her out and take her to the temple of oghma, god of knowledge, binder of what is known. the following years she spent as an acolyte tending to the temple and following her curious nature in books and studies of her own. before being abducted by the nautiloid ship she was on her way to where elturel once was, looking for survivors, refugees, offering her clerical power for help.

she‘s a happy go lucky kind of girl, very optimistic until the last straw snapped. she loves hearing people‘s stories and naturally write them down. her and karlach fell in love and she would and does literally go through hell for her. I like to think that after all the events they settle down for a short time so Skylla can document all their tales for the temple but adventure soon calls them (and Wyll) out again. so they set out on new adventures as a little group.

her fatal flaw is easily trusting and never having heard the sentence „curiousity kills the cat“ (seriously, girl, get a grip some times!). also that she has to pick up anything edible she can find and being in constant worry that they might not have enough food or won‘t find food again due to her time on the street.

next up:

xerxa! oooh, boy. xerxa is my dark urge character and absolutely not out for redemption.

xerxa is a drow cleric of eilistraee, her class a reminder of a once attempted try to break from the shackles of her destiny as a bhaalspawn.

she grew up in the cult of eilistraee and had a fairly happy childhood until the urges started. one night her mother woke up to strange noises and found her daughter shaking, covered in blood and guts, her fathers body on the floor and a knife in her hand. she sent her daughter away. unknowing what would happen, easier to cover it as an unknown act than to face what evil urge had overcome her daughter that night. xerxa cried a lot that night, unable to understand the frenzy that had overtaken her and why nobody would help her. she wandered, finding out that killing was a skill she possessed, hunting small animals and not having to hunger. she saw visions in the night, visions of gore, murder, her destiny. and sceleritas who appeared and led her to the temple of bhaal, leaving a trail of death to satiate the urge she made her way to baldur‘s gate and to the temple of bhaal.

she does not feel clarity most of the time but after a while of satiating her urge she felt a sense of denial overcoming her, a feeling that she should not be like this. she left the temple, once again praying to eilistraee, praying for freedom, for forgiveness, she played a dangerous game studying the lore of eilistraee, doing services, learning clerical magic until her bloody destiny caught up to her again.

the nautiloid crash could have been a new beginning but for a new beginning with a past like that she would have needed more knowledge of herself. she mostly gave into the urge after that not even remembering her childhood or anything at first. she allied with minthara out of familiarity, hoping for her to know things, for them to be similar but also out of pure blood lust.

later on minthara and her bond in different ways, they are vulnerable around each other and become a team to take vengeance on who did them wrong and to become powerful enough to not fear anyone wanting to take control of them.

before that she has a brief relationship with gale that is not based on love at all. she has a complicated relationship with everyone in camp, not really allowing anyone to get to close, gale was pawn in her eyes but honestly she is also just a lesbian.

[king-midas-fortnite]

Journal Entry: 01

Relevant Reblog Thread: https://www.tumblr.com/king-midas-fortnite/757401380403200000/ive-come-to-curse-you-you-are-a-vampire-for?source=share

This curse business better not keep happening. The aluminum touch was one thing. Another entirely to be inflicted with vampirism.

Anything that forces me to seek out fucking Kado for help... Whoever put that curse on me can go to the very same hell I suffered in the Underworld for eternity for all I care.

Anyway, that night was just as horrendous as can be expected. Kado, to his credit did come to help me. Albeit not before tricking me into satiating some of my hunger on a Wastelander. He failed to mention their blood would be mostly that Nitro bilge water they all love so much. I was only slightly less hungry after, and then dealing with a splitting headache and nerves on fire to boot. Hilarious to him, of course. Fucking Vampire.

(But oh, that's supposed to be Secret! How I would Love to "leak" that information. If only I cared any less about eventually getting my bodily property back from him. And...if I didn't feel I owed him for later events on the night.)

I separated from him, and Valeria offered to help me after that. They offered something of their own that they promised would be less offensive to all of my senses. Kado "warned" me against taking it. In trusting them more, and resenting the Vampire's audacity in thinking he can tell me what the fuck to do, I agreed to meet with Val.

I am not too proud to admit that perhaps I should have listened. And I might have, had he not worded it so aggravatingly.

The thing Valeria offered was her own blood, beautifully presented to me in a crystal glass. It glittered oddly, and the first small sip immediately burned. She told me it had been mixed with a shimmer wine for taste. A ridiculous lie I'm hind-sight. But, irrelevant. At the time I was a bit too hungry to be thinking as critically as I should have.

And, as if on queue to lower my careful inhibitions further, Kado had showed up then. His irritable possessiveness brought him to us. I knew he'd come to stop me, so I drank the rest all at once.

I don't know exactly what it did to me. I remember losing control. Clearly her blood is infused with the relic that is infused with her. Likely what Kado is so fiercely possessive of.

In any case, it made me attack Valeria. I lunged at them with full intent to kill...and nothing I could do to stop it.

What I remember after that is fuzzy. I know that Kado stopped me.

I came back to myself with him pinning me to the ground. Much to my annoyance, he was going on some trite explanation of new vampires to Valeria while pointing out my fangs that had started to retreat as the curse reached it's end. He infuriatingly ignored my command to remove himself from me, and it took my yelling to get Valeria to reign in the dog. The sway they have over him is something I will be speculating on for a while.

But anyway, Kado stopped me from trying to kill Valeria. I owe him for that. Questionable trust after feeding her powerful blood to me aside, I don't want to think about how long it would take to forgive myself had I succeeded in what it drove me to try.

I hate the idea of being indebted to him, so I will avoid mentioning my gratitude for now. Maybe I will send him something from my wine cellar and call it square to myself.

Reminder: these are not "public" to other Tumblrverse characters. Okay to reblog, but please do not roleplay on journal entries!

[whispercd]

with: @edward-st-george where: the silver lantern

This was not her scene. For one, in the evenings, she imagined the floor had that undeniable stick of impropriety to it, courtesy of mead spills and footprints tracked in by men who did not know to wipe their boots before entering a space. To clutch at her pearls and insist that this was, somehow, an indicator of moral decline and that this was why she did not enjoy the atmosphere would be half oversimplification, half lie. It was, simply put, about the type of moral decay: not the silver-tongued, carefully execute, surgical manner of getting people to say things they had not intended to that Ayla had spent so much time sharpening, but its less precise cousin: drunken patrons offering up their secrets without any of the associated effort. It was too easy. It did not satiate the hunger in the same way.

But her choices for that evening had been two: stay in, and listen to Ela's seemingly never-ending musings on love, or on the beauty of things, or any number of things that made Ayla want to slam the door - or, she could come into town with her one remaining brother. The choice had practically been made for her, so great was the fear she might accidentally snap at her sister, that it had trumped her general distaste for being in public. At least she wouldn't be alone. That was, until she was. Where the Kara heir had disappeared off to was anyone's guess, but Ayla has been left at the counter by herself, feeling every bit like a dog tied to a pole by a market stall. "Do they not get on your nerves, your patrons?" She asks, tone of voice seeming to indicate one thing: they really should. "I could not imagine being surrounded by this many people all day, every day."

[lukabrina-viperhound]

Never Love An Anchor - Prologue:

Luka Couffaine was drowning. months of plotting and rallying and carefully preparing, all gone down the great blue ocean, along with his body and soon, his soul.

and just as he is about to accept his fate, while closing his eyes and ceasing his struggle to stay afloat, he catches a glimpse of brilliant orange and shimmering teal, swimming his way quickly.

He awoke to a gorgeous face haloed by the glaring sun, with too many questions and not enough air in his lungs to ask any of them, he began coughing up saltwater.

“Oh, oh my. Are you alright? I'm not sure humans are supposed to do that. Not that I’ve really drowned any myself to know for sure…” The gorgeous face spoke with an equally lovely voice. So lovely, in fact, that it took Luka a second to process the disturbing nature of the sentence.

“What-“ he had to cough and heave and cough again before continuing breathlessly. “What are you?” But the question was redundant. He was saved from drowning by a beautiful woman with a melodious voice who, by her own admission, was expected to drown humans. something she herself was not.

His savior was a siren.

“Calm down, sailor. If I wanted you dead then I wouldn't have bothered saving you, now would I?” the beautiful siren reassured him.

“That’s not nearly as hopeful a sentiment as you believe it to be. After all, what could a siren want with a man that she keeps him alive for?” Luka found himself arguing against his favor in his anxiety.

“The only hunger I wish to satiate with you, sailor - “ the siren leaned in close with the top half of her body, honeyed voice laced with a dangerous edge, closing in on his waist and allowing the suggestive nature of her words to linger for only a moment before innocently submerging her body back in the water and completing her sentence, “is my curiosity!”

“Curiosity? Of what kind?” Luka asked, suspicious and still a bit flustered.

“Oh, just the healthy, intellectual kind.” She explained readily, smirking subtly at having riled him up so successfully over nothing. The other sirens thought her a boring prude, but she just made a sailor blush! “A seafaring man such as yourself, one I found drowning no less, surely has some stories to tell?” She finished her explanation, phrasing the ending more like an invitation, perhaps a request.

What could she say? She loved unraveling a good mystery.

“And what exactly is in it for me if I tell you my whole sad story? You getting entertainment at the expense of me reliving my trauma hardly sounds like a fair trade.” Luka shot back, now slightly more at ease despite his better judgment and bantering freely.

“What? Does my excellent companionship not suffice? You do realize I could've just left once I rescued you and you'd be all alone here for who knows how long. As I've said, I'm no human expert, but even I know you don't do well in isolation.” Her words had a teasing edge to them, something about her tone letting him know that leaving him behind and alone was never an option for her. He found himself feeling just as curious about her as she was about him.

“Be that as it may, I still feel like this isn't an equal exchange. So what if we came to an agreement?” Making a deal with any sort of magical creature was dangerous business, but the siren was right about one thing. It's not like he was going anywhere anytime soon, so he might as well take a chance.

Sabrina's smile widened in excitement and her tail splashed around in the water. “I'm listening…”

“Ask me a question about myself, and I will endeavor to answer to the best of my ability. Then, I ask you one of my many questions and you give me some much-needed answers about yourself. Does that sound acceptable?”

“hmmm… well, sailor, you drive a hard bargain. But I believe you've got yourself a deal!”

Art by the wonderful @the-lavender-creator who helped inspire this fic, along with this song;