#never trust a man with high charisma.

[gorgynei]

i dont trust braius at all like he lied about everything basically. lied about his god, about him being a champion, for some reason mega respects tevon while also apparently not knowing the difference between devils/demons, immediately getting all flirty and comfortable with the party.... something is FISHY!

[celebtf]

Fiyero And The Wizard

The Emerald City glimmered in the fading sunlight as Fiyero sat by the window of the train, his excitement nearly tangible. He had received a personal invitation to meet the Wizard of Oz himself, a rare and extraordinary honor. Elphaba had warned him against trusting the Wizard, but curiosity and hope for answers had driven him to accept the invitation. Perhaps the Wizard wanted to make amends for the chaos he had caused in their lives.

The train screeched to a halt at the station, and Fiyero stepped off, greeted by the bustling streets of the Emerald City. He marveled at the shimmering green buildings and the vibrant crowd as he made his way to the Wizard’s castle. The guards at the entrance stepped aside without question, and the massive doors creaked open, revealing a grand, candlelit hall.

At the far end, the Wizard stood, draped in his signature robes. His gloved hands clutched an ancient, ornate book—the Grimmery, a tome of forbidden magic.

“Fiyero!” the Wizard greeted with a disarming smile. “It is an honor to finally meet you face to face.”

Fiyero approached cautiously, bowing slightly out of respect. “The honor is mine, sir. But why have you called me here?”

The Wizard’s smile grew, though something unsettling lingered in his eyes. “You have a charm about you, Fiyero. A natural charisma that I believe the people of Oz need... desperately.” He gestured to the Grimmery. “I have a proposition. Join me, and together we can bring order to this land. We can rid it of chaos and those who threaten our way of life. Starting with Elphaba.”

Fiyero’s chest tightened at the mention of her name. He shook his head firmly. “I won’t betray her. I won’t be a part of whatever you’re planning.”

The Wizard sighed, his expression darkening. “I had hoped you would see reason. No matter. There are other ways.”

Before Fiyero could react, a high-pitched screech echoed through the hall. A winged monkey darted out from the shadows—Chesery, the Wizard’s loyal servant. In a blur, Chesery pounced, restraining Fiyero with alarming strength. The monkey’s claws dug into his arms as ropes appeared, binding him tightly.

“What are you doing?” Fiyero struggled, his voice laced with panic.

The Wizard ignored him, opening the Grimmery and flipping through its pages. Ancient symbols glowed on the parchment, and his voice grew low and guttural as he began to chant in an unfamiliar language

Fiyero watched in horror as the Wizard’s transformation unfolded before his eyes. The older man’s features shifted and smoothed like clay under an unseen sculptor’s hands. Wrinkles faded, leaving a youthful glow, and his once-proud frame shrank slightly, adjusting to match Fiyero’s lean build. His gray hair lightened in streaks, cascading into shades of rich brown and golden blond.

As the glow of magic dissipated, the Wizard stepped back from the Grimmery, his face now identical to Fiyero’s. It was perfect—eerily perfect. The bound prince couldn’t look away, dread curdling in his stomach as if he were staring into a twisted reflection of himself.

The Wizard opened his eyes, catching his new appearance in the grand mirror before him. He let out a low chuckle, his voice now Fiyero’s smooth, confident tone. “Oh, this... this is exquisite.”

He tilted his head to one side, examining himself with almost theatrical enthusiasm. Running a hand over his jawline, he smirked. “Such symmetry. No wonder the ladies—and perhaps even a few gentlemen—fall over themselves for you. This face alone is enough to make kingdoms bow, isn’t it?”

Fiyero snarled, straining against the ropes. “Stop this! You’ll never get away with it!”

“Oh, but I already have,” the Wizard shot back, not even sparing him a glance. He was too busy admiring his reflection, tracing his cheekbones and brushing his fingers over his lips. “And these lips...” He let out an exaggerated sigh, puckering them playfully. “So... kissable. Do you practice this in the mirror, Fiyero? Or does it just come naturally?”

He turned sharply, striding toward Fiyero with newfound grace. His movements were fluid, confident—a predator who knew his prey was already caught. Standing inches away, he gestured to his chest with a flourish. “And look at this,” he said, tugging his collar slightly to reveal the firm definition beneath his shirt. “Your body’s built like it’s been sculpted by the gods themselves. How do you find the time to stay this... perfect?”

Fiyero clenched his jaw, refusing to give the Wizard the satisfaction of a response.

But the Wizard was far from finished. His hands traveled down to his stomach, where he gave an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, my! These abs!” He patted his stomach mockingly, then flexed, his smirk widening as he felt the firm ridges under his fingertips. “I didn’t realize you were hiding such a masterpiece under those princely clothes. No wonder Elphaba can’t resist you. Who could?”

Fiyero’s struggles grew more frantic. “You’re a coward, hiding behind my face! You’ll never be me!”

The Wizard barked a laugh, stepping back into the light to examine his thighs and legs. “Oh, Fiyero, I don’t need to ‘be’ you. I only need to wear you.” He leaned down, running his hands over his thighs and giving another exaggerated whistle. “And these legs. Strong. Sturdy. Built for running... or perhaps something else entirely?” He waggled his eyebrows, his mocking laugh echoing through the hall.

“You’re disgusting,” Fiyero spat, his voice shaking with fury.

“Disgusting?” The Wizard tilted his head in mock confusion before grinning slyly. “No, my dear boy. Disgusting is what I’d call letting a body like this go to waste. But don’t worry. I’ll make the most of it.”

He turned his attention to his backside, giving it an exaggerated pat. “And this,” he said, smirking as he glanced over his shoulder. “Well, let’s just say it’ll be the talk of the Emerald City soon enough. I’m sure even the guards will be doing double-takes. Tell me, Fiyero—have you ever noticed how perfectly this uniform frames... everything?”

Fiyero seethed, his face burning with anger and humiliation.

The Wizard bent closer, his voice dropping to a low, taunting whisper. “It must feel awful, doesn’t it? Watching yourself—your body, your charm—become mine. Knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” He stood upright again, laughing softly. “And the best part? When I’m done, the world will thank me for it. They’ll love me. They’ll love you.”

Turning back to the mirror, the Wizard struck a dramatic pose, adjusting the collar of his blue and gold outfit with a flourish. “Well, Fiyero, it’s been delightful getting to know myself.” He laughed at his own joke. “But I think it’s time for you to disappear.”

“Chesery!” he called, his tone snapping into command. The winged monkey appeared from the shadows, bowing low. “Take him away. Somewhere no one will ever find him. Somewhere he’ll have plenty of time to think about just how perfect I look.”

Chesery seized Fiyero, dragging him toward the shadows despite his desperate struggles.

The Wizard—now Fiyero—watched them go, his smirk widening as the real Fiyero’s protests faded into silence. Turning to the mirror one last time, he admired his stolen reflection, running a hand over his hair and tilting his head with a grin.

“Oz,” he whispered to himself, his voice laced with triumph. “You’re about to meet your perfect hero.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode toward the castle doors, radiating the effortless charm that only Fiyero Tiggular could muster.

There would be no resistance, no rebellion. No happy ending for anyone.

He had succeeded.

And the world of Oz would never be the same.

[nahoney22]

Hello! I absolutely love love LOVE your work. I be rereading on here and on Ao3 and your writing is just phenomenal!! I wanted to know if I can please request an NSFW fem reader x Hunter.

Reader is mad or annoyed with “The Great Sergeant of clone force 99” always on top of her ever since she joined the batch like how she almost got injured but it was only Hunter’s overprotectiveness that might have been the problem and at some point they get in to a really heated argument on the Marauder where she wants to leave the batch and Hunter will be glad because he doesn’t have to look after someone…. until something snaps between them and all hell breaks loose. Even hidden feelings are let loose lol. Also, there’s this song that I picture it with for some reason. It’s “when you coming to see me?” by Mawr if you wanna take listen :).

Anyways, again I love your work and ive never requested something to anyone before so idk if the request is well written and/or too long😅 but i know you can execute it so well if you decide on accepting my request. Thank you!!!! ♥️♥️♥️

Later’s Better Than Never*** 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Hunter x Female!Reader

word count: 3.6k

prompts: none

When tensions finally reaching breaking point, your need to leave becomes evident. Hunter however makes it harder than it should be.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Female reader, explicit sexual content and language, dirty talk, light dom!Hunter, very light breathplay ie choking, fingering, finger sucking, cum eating, oral ie blowjob, p in v sex, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, love confessions, Hunter is overprotective, light angst, arguing, not proofread.

authors note: Sorry for the wait my lovely @lamiliani, enjoy, I hope this is okay! 🩵

Hunter had been unbearable since the mission briefing.

The plan was straightforward: infiltrate a high-stakes gala, seduce the host, and extract crucial information about a new Imperial weapon. The client you were working for had specifically chosen you for this task after witnessing your charisma and capability. The rest of the squad respected and trusted you, but a certain Sergeant seemed determined to undermine your confidence at every turn.

"Remember, stick to the plan," Hunter ordered for what felt like the hundredth time as you adjusted your attire in the Marauder. The sleek dress you wore was perfect for the gala, accentuating your figure in a way that was both elegant and seductive. Which was a total change considering your normal attire of battered and worn armour and civvies that were desperate for a good wash.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. "I know the plan, Hunter," you retorted, turning to face him. The frustration in your voice was evident.

Hunter's eyes bore into yours, a mix of concern and frustration etched into his features. His jaw was set, the muscles in his neck tense. "One slip-up, and it could all go wrong. We can’t afford that."

You narrowed your eyes, knowing he was referring to the time when the plan had not gone exactly as intended. It had been a life-or-death situation, but you had learned from it. Besides, the only person you had put in danger was yourself, so you didn’t understand why he was still bitter about it.

"That 'slip-up' was months ago," you shot back, your temper flaring. "I’ve proven myself since then."

"I’ll believe it when I see it." Hunter’s tone was cold as he stormed off into the cockpit, leaving you staring daggers at his back. How insufferable could one man be?

You took a deep breath, trying not to let it get to you. You mentally and physically prepared yourself, going over the plan in your head with determination. You had this.

It was just a shame someone else didn’t think so.

The gala was in full swing. You slipped into the crowd as planned, your eyes on the target. You were enticing and seductive as you engaged him in conversation, your charm drawing him in instantly. Everything was going according to plan as he began to let slip his plans.

Then Hunter appeared.

His sudden arrival, a shadow in the background, disrupted your focus. The target noticed your concerned distraction, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Before you could salvage the situation, a gentle hand on his arm to draw his attention back to you, his arm wrapped around your neck into a chokehold as alarms started to blare, and chaos erupted.

Cursing under your breath, you freed yourself with ease and struck a punch straight to his gut before ducking to cover as blaster fire whizzed past your head. Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time. You barely managed to escape with the others, the mission a total failure. And this time, you refused to let it be seen as your fault.

Back on the Marauder, you let everything out. You marched up the gangplank, ripping the bangles off your wrists and the pins that had secured your hair in place, tossing them across the ship carelessly. You let everyone file in, steam practically blowing out of your ears as your eyes landed on the Sergeant.

"What is your problem? Why can’t you trust me?" you yelled as soon as the ramp closed behind you, your voice echoing through the ship. Your chest heaved with the effort of keeping your anger in check, your hands trembling slightly.

"You weren’t getting the job done!" Hunter growled, his tone dripping with frustration. His eyes were dark, his brows furrowed in anger. "You just stood there twirling your drink around all night."

You stared at him in disbelief, looking to the others who avoided eye contact at all costs. "I wasn’t doing anything? Hunter, he was about to tell me his plans, and then you just swooped in like you have some damn savior complex."

His jaw tightened, the tension in the air thick enough to cut. "Maybe if you weren’t so reckless in the past, I could have let you get on with it."

"The client wanted me to do it. I wasn’t being reckless!" You seethed, turning red in the face. Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. "One mistake, Hunter! Just one!" You stepped closer, your voice low and dangerous. "How many times do I have to prove myself?"

Hunter’s eyes narrowed, his fists just as tightly clenched as his jaw. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. "You don’t get it, do you? One mistake is all it takes to get you killed."

His words cut deep, a mixture of anger and hurt swirling within you. Your heart pounded, each beat echoing your frustration and the feeling of being made to feel useless. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, a mix of rage and something more primal simmering just beneath the surface.

"Guys, stop it!" Omega’s voice trembled, her distress clear. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with unshed tears.

Echo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Let’s give them some space," he said softly, leading her towards the exit with Tech and Wrecker following. "They need to sort this out." He looked at both of you with a stern gaze before he left.

As the door closed, sealing you in the Marauder alone with Hunter, silence fell.

Finally, you both started to speak at once, voices overlapping. Hunter gestured for you to go ahead, his expression begrudging.

"I’m tired of this, Hunter," you began, your voice steady despite the storm inside you that was waiting to tear this ship apart. "Tired of you treating me like I’m not good enough. If this is how it’s going to be, maybe I should leave."

Something flickered in his eyes—hurt, anger, maybe something more—but he masked it quickly. "Maybe you should go," he said, his voice rough. His expression was a mixture of frustration and something else, something softer. "I am done having to watch over you, babysitting you."

You scoffed at him, shaking your head in disbelief. "Has it ever come to your attention that maybe you’re the problem?" You pointed at his chest, your finger almost digging into the fabric of his shirt. "You’re weighing this whole team down recently, and I want to know why."

"There’s nothing wrong with my leadership," he snapped back, his voice sharp. But as he spoke, the space between you seemed to shrink. You were close, so close. His breath was hot on your skin. "You just don’t know how to be careful."

Your heart raced, the anger giving way to a heated flush spreading through your body. The proximity was intoxicating, his scent, his presence overwhelming your senses. You could feel the tension morphing into something you never thought you’d feel.

His breath was on your skin, his presence overwhelming. "Say the word, Hunter," you challenged, voice low into a whisper. "And I’ll go."

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. His pupils were blown the more you looked at each other, breathing shallow. You watched his throat work as he swallowed hard, struggling to find his voice.

Your hands rested on the underside of the console, securing you in place as you were practically backed up into it. And confusingly, you were a different type of riled up.

Then, you saw him wet his lower lip, just a touch that made your heart momentarily stop. And he noticed—he noticed. And he smirked. Of course he would; his heightened senses would be picking up on everything���the quickening of your pulse, the heat pooling between your thighs. You sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.

"Hunter," you spoke louder and hopefully more sternly, but the slight tremble in your tone begged to differ. "Tell me you want me to go."

His eyes momentarily closed, conflict spreading across his features. "Tell me to go," you whispered again, but again came no reply.

You waited for a few more moments before you found yourself laughing, almost pitifully. For yourself, and for him. "I don’t have time for this," you grumbled and turned to move away from him, but there was a sudden hold on your arm, stopping you completely.

Your gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide. His, however, flickered down your body, lingering, then met yours again, blazing with an intensity that made your heart stop once more. The silence stretched, electric, until you could bear it no longer. "Hunter?" you whispered.

Suddenly, he pulled you closer, body flush against his and his lips just inches from yours. With a soft murmur, voice hoarse, he said, "Don’t go."

Your breath hitched, your body responding to the unspoken desire in his words. The bitterness, the anger, it all melted away, leaving only a new and raw need. You both closed the gap, lips crashing together in a fierce, desperate kiss.

His hands roamed your body, finding their way to the small of your back while your hands tangled in his hair, running and tugging the textured locks through your fingers. You gasped as he pulled you even closer than before, his body pressing you back to the control panel. The heat of his touch pushed shivers of excitement down your spine. How was this happening? And why didn’t it feel wrong?

Hunter pulled back just enough to mutter against your lips, “I’ve always cared. More than I should.”

You met his gaze, seeing the vulnerability there, and whispered, “Then show me.”

His response was immediate and fervent. Hunter lifted you effortlessly, placing you onto the console before his strong hands slipped under your dress, his touch rough and impatient, yet undeniably thrilling. His fingers traced the length of your legs, caressing your thighs and emitting electric jolts of desire through you.

"You were so worked up when we were arguing," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "I could smell how wet you were for me."

You were speechless. Then, you gasped as his fingers trailed further up, hiking your dress higher until his hands cupped your sex. The realisation that you were bare beneath the dress, no panties to obstruct his touch made him breathless.

"Fuck," he breathed shakily, his fingers slipping between your folds, feeling the slickness there. "No panties? That’s… that’s so sexy of you." He purrs, gauging your reaction as he brushes a thumb over your clit. “And you’re so wet.”

Your breath hitched, a moan escaping your lips as he began to explore you. His fingers moved expertly, teasing your entrance before slipping inside. You arched into him, your body responding eagerly to his touch. “H-Hunter!”

"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "To be fucked by me?"

You could only nod, biting your lip hard as your voice lost to the sensations overwhelming you. His fingers thrust in and out of you, his thumb circling your clit with an agonisingly beautiful precision. “Mmm, you like this don’t you? You feel beautiful.” The pleasure builds quickly, a coil of heat tightening in your core.

“I love it, Hunter.” You gasp. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Hunter’s other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he worked you towards the edge. "So tight around my fingers."

You whimpered, your hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate for more as your body shakes. His pace quickened, his fingers curling inside you to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars. Your body trembled, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"That’s it," he growled, his voice a rough caress as his lips breathe down your neck. "Come for me. I know you can do it. Come all over my fingers, baby girl.”

With a final, desperate cry, you shattered. His fingers, the pace, his pet names, everything makes your climax crash over you in throbbing waves. Hunter didn’t stop though; his fingers continued their relentless thrash on your clit, prolonging your pleasure until you were a quivering mess, your juices pouring down your thighs.

When he finally pulled his fingers from you, they were slick with your cum. His gaze locked with yours, dazed and in awe as you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a greedy hunger. The sight of him, the feel of his lips around his fingers, sent another jolt of arousal through you. “You l-look good doing that,” you say bashfully, even more so as he collected more on the fingers he just sucked and placed them flat against his tongue, groaning desperately.

"You taste incredible," he murmured, his eyes dark and hungry. "I never thought someone could taste so sweet."

Without another word, he sank to his knees before you, spreading your legs wider to grant him better access as he pushed your dress up again. The sight of him there, between your thighs, was definitely a sight to behold.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to the edge of the console. His breath was hot against your swollen folds, making you shudder in eagerness. "I want to taste you again," he smirks, his tone low and gravelly. "I want you to come on my tongue."

“Take me, Hunter, it’s all yours.” The first swipe of his tongue was both a shock and a relief. You gasped, your hands flying to his hair, gripping the locks to hold him in place.

"Hunter," you moaned, your voice trembling. "Oh, fuck."

His tongue moved with a desperate hunger, lapping at your folds and circling your clit with a precision that made you writhe. He groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the intense pleasure building inside you. “I love hearing you swear… such a dirty mouth.”

Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of his mouth, more of that intense sensation. Hunter’s grip on your hips tightened, almost bruising as holds you steady as literally he devoured you. He alternated between long, slow licks and rapid, flicking movements that had you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. The sounds he made—groans, grunts, and the slick noises of his mouth on your wetness—only heightened the moment as you matched his sounds with tender moans of your own.

You tugged at his hair, needing him closer, deeper. "Don’t stop," you pleaded, your voice breathless and desperate as you begin to roll your hips against his face. "Please, don’t stop."

He didn’t. If anything, your words spurred him on, his tongue working even more fervently. He sucked on your clit, gently at first, then harder, drawing it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it before plunging his finger into you for that extra push. Your entire body tensed, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

You cried out, your nails digging into his scalp as you came again, the orgasm crashing over you with a force that left you shaking, more so than before.

Slowly, he pulled back from your cunt, his lips glistening with your aftermath. He looked up at you, his eyes blown and satisfied. "Stars, I can’t get enough of you… I’ve dreamt about being between your legs.”

His words surprised you, wondering if he was just saying it in the heat of the moment or if he was saying the truth but for now, you could only nod, still trying to catch your breath. Your body hummed with satisfaction, every nerve ending still tingling from the intensity of your release. Hunter stood, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips.

"You’re amazing," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was slow, languid, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, sharing your taste between you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice a soft rumble.

“But… I thought you didn’t want me.” You whisper against his lips, eyes closed as you try to get your head around everything.

He sighs, shaking his head slowly. “I’ve been pushing you away because… I couldn’t imagine if anything bad were to happen to you.”

“You’ve been cruel to me,” you reiterate, a little bitter as you pull your head back, “but you…” you piece it all together, his obvious jealousy of you and that guy tonight, his toughness of overprotectiveness. He cared. In a bad way. But alas, he cared. And a part of you always wanted him. You were just too determined never to admit it.

“I’m sorry,” he says with honesty, his hands leaving your hips to take a hold of each of your hands, “I really am.”

You search his face, coming to your conclusion. Hunter's eyes blazed with need as you gently pushed him back. At first he thought you were going to push him away completely, telling him this was a mistake but then, you dropped to your knees before him.

Hunter's eyes widened in surprise but then glowed with hunger while your hands were steady, moving to his belt, undoing it. With your voice husky with desire, you whisper. "Let me?”

He nodded, swallowing hard. You freed his hardened cock from the confines of his pants, the sight of it making your mouth water instantly. “You have such a beautiful cock,” you say sweetly, giving it an experimental pump. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip, tasting the precum that had already gathered there from earlier antics.

Hunter groaned, his hands finding their way into your hair, gently guiding you. "Fuck, you’re beautiful," he muttered, his voice thick with need.

You took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the head before taking him deeper. His grip on your hair tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, the restraint he was barely managing to hold onto. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in deeper, your tongue tracing the vein along the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back, exposing his throat. You glanced up, taking in the sight of him—the way his lips parted, the way his eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. It spurred you on. It made you want to give him everything.

You started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his length, taking him as deep as you could. Each time you pulled back, you flicked your tongue over the sensitive tip, making him shudder. You could feel his control slipping, his hips starting to thrust gently into your mouth.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice ragged. “You’re so good at this.” His free hand grasps your jaw, holding your head in place as his gentle thrusts become more eager. “That’s it baby.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and you doubled your efforts, sucking him harder, faster and matching his thrusts. You reached up, cupping his balls and rolling them gently in your hand, feeling his body respond to your touch. His breathing grew more ragged, his grip on your hair tighter. Soon his hand on your jaw moved to your throat, chuckling as he practically felt the way your throat contracts and tightens with every time he moves in and out of your mouth.

“Stars, you’re amazing,” he panted. “Keep going, keep going.”

But then he pulled you back, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. He was breathing hard, his eyes wild with need. “I can’t… I need you,” he growled, pulling you up to your feet.

You barely had time to register what was happening before he was lifting you, your back pressed against the console again but with your dress being ripped away from your body. He spread your thighs, and then he was there, his cock pressing against your entrance.

He slid into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The sensation of him filling you completely made you cry out, your breathing harsh. “Hunter,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips starting a relentless rhythm. “Such a nice pussy, so perfect.”

He moved with a desperation that matched your own, each thrust deep and hard, hitting that perfect spot inside you. You start to grin, never having been so fucked desperately in all your life. He was disheveled, panting your name like a man starved as his cock sinks deep into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, needing more. A lot more. “You’re fucking me so good, Hunter! D-don’t stop.”

“You’re mine,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

His sudden words sent you over the edge, your body tensing as another orgasm ripped through you. You cried out his name, your nails dragging down his back, leaving marks and claiming him.

“Yes, come for me,” he urged, his thrusts growing more erratic. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

You did, your body spasming around him, milking him. His grip on your hips tightened, his own release imminent. He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m going to fill you up,” he panted. With a final, deep thrust, he came, his body shuddering against yours. You held him close, your own body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm. He stayed there, buried deep inside you, his breath slowly evening out.

“I love you,” he whispered again, his voice softer now, more tender.

You smiled, your hands gently caressing his back as you both succumbed to the evening. “I love you too.”

Tags: @lulalovez @photogirl894 @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari i @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi

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[junemermaid]

nobody asked but I've spent the last week thinking about this so here are my current headcanons for the lotus trio's sexual histories/inclinations (relevant to a fic I'm working on—the waveform may collapse differently later, you know how it goes). many acknowledgments to @neekerbreeker for the joint brainstorming and most of the best lines!! 💕

li lianhua:

perfect kinsey 3. does not discriminate re: sex or gender. up for most things once and twice if he likes it. recovering from a mild case of youthful fuckboy and has relaxed into that mendacious, easygoing charisma that charms people for the one night they mostly spend with him. easy on the eyes and not above using it.

however, the hardmode part is actually divining his desires. very into (h)edging as foreplay. like a cat, may need to be beckoned by feigning indifference. will change his mind halfway through negotiations and spook at being stared at for too long (this is not a no, he just likes the byroads. hope you're into a slow build over the evening).

on that note: has fucked, does fuck, will fuck, and the other way around. no fuss over his presumed masculinity. a fairly hassle-free lover once you're past the intricate pre-sex rituals. comes with his own mobile fuck pad and will be gone the next day. will make you (dubious) breakfast and let you pet his very sweet dog. you will never see him again. has successfully avoided any feelings for a bed partner for the last ten years.

fang duobing:

hmmmm probably a kinsey 5 or so. predominantly into guys but the right girl can get it. has kissed people but is actually waiting for the right partner. the jianghu's best-read virgin. has studied the ancient chinese fuck scrolls, the taoist lore, the full length of whatever courting etiquette applies. eager to put it into practice, but only with someone he likes.

his enthusiasm for theory mid-date may need to be gently restrained. will wine and dine you properly if given the least chance. will take instruction but you may need to wrestle him for it. dives into new challenges. service top tendencies. will bewitch you with his giant doe eyes when you least expect it.

all the flair and poetry of an educated young master, but innocent and maybe oblivious to innuendo. a bit of a bleeding heart in affairs of the heart. handle with care - and then with vigour. after all, mama did not raise xiaobao to be a cad or a quitter.

di feisheng:

does the scale go this high up? will see a naked woman and look away brusquely until she can find her clothes. sex is mostly diversion and stress relief to him, no feelings apply. (his sublimated homoerotic longing for li xiangyi definitely does not apply.)

fucks mostly strangers and never the same man twice. will tell you what he wants right out of the gate. the discerning partner may notice this is as much a performance as li lianhua's ducking and weaving. the patriarchal inclinations of the jianghu have slotted him, swordmaster and sect leader, into a mould he now lets himself fall into. some swoonier admirers never see the man under the facade. sends them out dishevelled and well fucked (as he's supposed to) and that is that.

in actuality, less of an unyielding stone-faced top than his reputation/infamy suggests. full of big deep feelings that have never found an outlet. trust issues the length of the yangtze. yearns to be known with all the ferocity of li lianhua trying to avoid the same. if you can survive giving him a sincere compliment he'll need three to five ancient chinese business days to think about it while brooding on a high place. duality of man.

[leafington]

𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙖 𝙝𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙘𝙪𝙩! 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩, 𝙘𝙪𝙩! - kento n.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, nanami's charisma being sky high, culture shock (on nanami's end), fluff, not proofread, self-inserted barber experience (i get my lineups at home), ib an ugly fucking picture of the back of nanamis head and his barber clearly needs to be fired.

It's pushing thirty minutes that you've been gawking at the back of your husband's head. When he first got home and threw his stuff where they belonged, you knew something was wrong. You, as the supportive wife you are, came to his aid and stepped back seeing his grumpy expression.

"Be honest, how bad is it?"

Nanami did not want an honest answer because he's locked himself in the bathroom ever since because of the 'Who the fuck did your hair?' that escaped faster than your brain could register. You didn't mean it in a bad way, you were just upset due to some unlicensed prick who ruined your man's hair.

Uneven, cut horribly wrong, hairline crooked, he practically came home a different man and not in the good way. "Baby, it'll grow back." You console him, scrunching your face. He's never had a problem with his stylist until today, what made today different? Nanami shrugs off your hand originally positioned in his hair, his tone sour. "Not in three days time. How am I supposed to go to work like this?" You would call him dramatic but if you were in his shoes, you'd be mad too.

"Maybe you could wear a hat? Or like some sort of headband, scarf—" You list, replacing your touch to land on his back. "And is any of that appropriate for a professional workplace?" Shit, you're just making it worse, and the look on your face isn't helping.

Nanami's far more pissed now, you've been staring at it all day. He gets it, his cut is bad. He's beating himself up about it that he let it happen! He tries to forget about it, but suddenly there's a reflection of him everywhere in the house. To make matters significantly unfavorable, Gojo's laughter erupted from his phone later in the evening spouting all sorts of comparisons to his nasty do.

"YOU LOOK LIKE ANGELICA'S DOLL HAHAHAH." His loud exclamation gets cut off by the phone being inable to pick up how hard he's laughing. "STAR TREK CALLED, THEY NEED A NEW CAST MEMBERRR." It was almost sad to watch Nanami try to even muster up the ability to yell at him, Gojo isn't even calling him for his first purpose anymore.

His day has been everything stemming from the word rough. Nanami turned his back away from you like it was your fault (it was) in your shared bed. You tried googling solutions to his problem, nothing came up besides 'Quick tips on hair growth!' and '5 Easy Steps to Obtain Natural Hair Growth!', while drenching his hair in oil might do the trick, it wouldn't save him the embarrassment for his upcoming day at work.

Essentially, you forgot all about it when you opened up social media to mindlessly scroll for a bit. Coincidentally, a post from a close friend came up that showed off a client's hair he did. You liked it and scrolled once more before a thought crossed your mind.

"Ken?" You tap his shoulder lightly. "I think I can fix your..." You eyeball at his head in the dark, questioning if it can even be remotely related to hair. "problem." And you show him the short footage. Nanami skeptically looks between your phone and you, internally wondering if you're being genuine. "With all due respect, I understand you're trying to help, but I do not want that kind of style nor do I think it'll hold seeing as how different our hair textures are." A groan comes out shortly after rolling your eyes. "I'm not suggesting you get waves, Kento. I'm saying I could try to get you a booking there to at least attempt to save your head."

Seconds of silence pass, becoming a minute later, before Nanami heavily sighs and tosses his arm over his head. "And you trust him enough to where I won't end up bald?" He double-checks. "Yes. His wife does my hair for everything and I took my nephew there to get himself straight." Hesitantly, he throws a nod of confirmation, allowing you to message your friend to see if he could squeeze in an emergency booking for Nanami.

You weren't aware that you got a reply until the morning, luckily, your friend agreed to take him in whenever the two of you could come. After getting dressed and cleaning up a little, you shuffled through your purse to make sure you were prepared. Nanami, on the other hand, wore one of your silk pink bonnets on his head to hide the disaster beneath it.

It was a last resort, but whatever kept him satisfied.

The drive there wasn't long in your eyes, but for Nanami it was down right torture. He didn't know these people other than your friend who ran the barber shop, that and he's breaking the universal law of staying loyal to his standard barber—even if he'd never forgive him, he still felt bad. Having parked your car off to the side, your husband stood awkwardly when you tried to drag him inside despite his constant protesting, you had to promise him you'd take him out for bread later, bribing him like a little kid.

"Hey, Y/n! Long time no see." Your friend greets, permitting a side hug as additional welcome. He turns to Nanami wearing what he presumes is your bonnet, and fights off a chuckle. "And you must be her husband?" He goes for a dap, and to your shock, follows through, patting each other on the back. "I am, Y/n speaks quite much and highly of you." He raises an eyebrow at this and mutters something about you and your type for sticks in the mud. "Let's see the damage." The male prompts for Nanami to take the makeshift protectant off.

Collective 'Damn's' and hisses erupt in the small room, your friend even thinning his lips and coughing to hold back a cackle. A few barbers stopped what they were doing or snapped their attention back to their job, even some customers didn't even wanna look.

"Stop it. He's been pissy about it enough." You grimace, and your friend throws an arm around Nanami. "Don't worry, man. You're in good hands." He whisks Nanami off to his chair, grabbing an apron cape to put over him.

You, yourself, worry about Nanami's adaption to this new environment. The constant chatter of controversial topics, sports, things that bother them or don't understand. It's less impressive than sitting at his desk while a scheduled person comes in. From your spot across the room, he was surprisingly doing fine. They kept everything to a minimum seeing as you were present, but Nanami was actually getting along with everyone quite well! He bonded with your friend and his workers, discussions shifting like clockwork, weight lifted off your shoulders at this, feeling comfortable enough to finally acknowledge whatever kept blowing your phone up.

Nanami sat there for no longer than thirty minutes, paying his new friend a large wad and sending him off not only another firm dap but a decent style that didn't make him look dragged through the dirt. "You look good." You smile, running your fingers across his clean-cut gently. "I feel good." He lets you do as you please. "They were awfully talkative, not that it was a bad thing." He admits, slightly shaken from how much speaking he did. "I don't even think you talk that much to me." You tease, now gushing over his much better hairstyle.

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[witch-girly]

Tarot:Major Arcana

(Simplified, pt. 1)

1.The Magician

Seeing the path ahead

Taking action & making decisions

Stop overthinking

Reversed

Blocked flow

Projects aren’t going ideally

2.The High Priestess

Appreciate the feminine in the world

Value in depth, sensitivity, contemplation

Reversed

Tone down & refocus your energy

3. The Empress

Something of abundance is headed your way

Reversed

Suggests a time of struggling with not having enough of something

4.The Emperor

Divine Masculine

Protection, Order, Power

Reversed

Tyranny

Lack of focus

5.The Hierophant

Learning, Routine, Tradition

Take counsel of trusted ones

Reversed

Rebellion, Chaos, Rejection

Shift in values

6.The Lovers

Love coming your way

Love yourself first

Reversed

Jealousy, separation, indecision

Struggles in love ahead

7.The Chariot

Issues will be resolved soon

Development & growth: not without struggle

Reversed

Upcoming danger

Failures standing in the way

8.Strength

Compassion, charisma, patience

Reversed

Lack of courage

Hopelessness

9.The Hermit

Intense transformation

Spend time alone

Reverse

Too much isolation

10. Wheel Of Fortune

Abundance

Beginning of a new season

Reversed

Change is being ignored

11. Justice

Clear path to success

Balance

Important choice

Reversed

Imbalance, dishonesty, unfairness

12.The Hanged Man

Experience is deepened, refocused, or intensified

Change in perspective

Positive change

Reversed

Trouble adjusting to change

Fighting progress

Wrong level of self-awareness

13.Death

Positive

New Beginnings

Passion

Reversed

Pessimism, Fear

14.Temperance

Magic

Potential pain

Reversed

Imbalanced, Argumentative

Feeling of being fragmented

15.The Devil

Someone in your life is controlling

Potential addiction

Reversed

Unhappiness

Lack of self control

16. The Tower

Imprisoned, Conflict

Fighting for beliefs

Reversed

Avoidance of responsibility

17. The Star

Transcendent openness

Healing & wholeness

Reversed

Wasting time

Loss of self-respect

18.The Moon

Divine Feminine

Truth

Reversed

Confusion

19. The Sun

Expansiveness & success

Clarity & focus

Reversed

Arrogance, self-doubt

Refusal to share knowledge

20. Judgement

Rebirth

Decision making

Changes ahead

Reversed

Ignoring change

21. The World

Completion

Celebrating accomplishments

Reversed

Delay in success

22. The Fool

Innocence, openness, playfulness

Reversed

Irrational, Naive

Never progressing

🌸✨🤍🖤

Pt. 2 is out on my page 💜💙

[ddollfface]

𝐀 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲

𝙆𝙞𝙮𝙤𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙞 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙪 𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 (𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 2.)

Warnings; yandere behavior, bad writing, stalking, creepy letters, misogyny, pushy behavior, me rambling, groping, touchy behavior, reader is a girl, not proofread, Tumblr's a bitch btw :/ If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I'm fully aware that nobody wanted this (I see all of you in my inbox, I'm getting to you, trust), but this little rat has been stuck in my mind. Ngl I have a love-hate relationship with Kiyosumi, but it's whatever. Enjoy :)

Okay, I don't like Kiyosumi. He's mean, brash, loud, arrogant, and doesn't think before he acts, overall there are no redeeming qualities to his personality. And I don't think he'd ever change for someone else, whether it be his master, Doppo, a lover, or a friend. He's stuck in his ways and doesn't want to see the world in any other way. And I just know that if I were to ever meet Kiyosumi (if he were real), we would absolutely loathe each other.

Everything about him genuinely pisses me off, and I can't imagine how anyone could enjoy his presence, so this is why I think Kiyosumi would be an absolute freak to have on your ass. There's no way any sane wo/man would ever consider being in a relationship with him unless they were being held hostage.

I believe that Kiyosumi would be a stalker, through and through. He doesn't have the charisma that Jun or Katsumi (though it's clumsy) have. He's rude and annoying, which is clear throughout the series, but this doesn't mean he doesn't have experience with women. He does, but he doesn't retain any of the information, his head is too stuck up his ass to recognize what works and what doesn't.

He doesn't know how to get a woman into his bed without paying her; he doesn't know how to get a girl to laugh, nor does he know how to get someone to like him. Even though he's an attractive man, he can't seem to get anyone to stay.

Kiyosumi is the butt of the joke, no matter who he's talking to. Everyone makes fun of him and sees him as a weak martial artist, leading him to use extreme measures to appease his own ego, seeing as no one else will. This is why he uses underhanded tactics while fighting, and I think this applies to his dating life. Now, this leads me to the type of girls Kiyosumi would pine after.

The first type is sweet, caring, and sensitive. She can't stand up for herself and flinches at the slight raise in tone. Overall, this type of girl is very insecure and usually sticks to herself or her very, very close circle (who she's likely known since she was a little girl).

If this matches you, then well aren't you lucky. Now you have Kiyosumi tracking your ass. He won't leave you alone, no matter how many times you whisper for him to back off, albeit politely. He takes every stutter, breaking off eye contact, and flushed cheeks as a sign that you're interested in him, not able to get it through his thick skull that you're uncomfortable.

With this type of reader, I see Kiyosumi being an abusive, manipulator who's taking advantage of someone who's smaller than him, both physically and mentally. Kiyosumi enjoys the control you give him, seeing as you don't demean him like everyone else. You're nice to him, though you shouldn't be. You're unnaturally giving, and at first, it makes him conscious, believing that you've got some trick up your sleeve.

Kiyosumi has genuinely never felt such kindness that he's developed major trust issues, which have formed into anger issues. He belives that he's being underappreciated in the martial arts, but you give him the recognition he's looking for. You don't say anything mean to him, if anything you're complimenting him (you're not)!

I feel horrible for this type of reader, far too much of a nervous wreck to say shit to Kiyosumi, letting his hands wander where they shouldn't be. You feel as if you're not in a place of power, in a high enough authority to say anything. Maybe if you just keep your mouth shut he'll leave you alone, right?

It's better to just ignore how his hand slowly creeps down, down, down, settling on your ass, cupping the fat, and squeezing; to ignore how his eyes linger on your cleavage, which you've covered as much as possible, not wanting any attention from Kiyosumi. Or how he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pressing his chest to your back, forcing you to feel ever muscle, the raw power they hold.

Though Kiyosumi is weak in the grand scheme of things; you don't know that, so he uses that to his advantage, forcing you into compromising situations. You're clearly not comfortable with his advantages, tugging on his hand when he caresses your waist, his sweaty hands practically leaving stains on your light sundress.

He chooses to ignore when you actively lean away from him, not wanting to catch a whiff of his alcohol-drenched breath, no gum can fix his rank breath. The grease colllecting in his onyx hair, made the gel shine a little too much.

Kiyosumi is just gross, and clearly not a ladies' man. Hell! You doubt that Kiyosumi has even interacted with a woman who isn't his mom! But you'd never tell him that, you don't think you'd survive the stare he'd give you seconds after. Living for others' approval has been your goal since you were a little girl, and seeing such a disapproving stare would break you.

But that's what Kiyosumi likes about you. You're just so soft, so nice, and sweet. You'd never undervalue him like all the other women do, like Doppo does. No, you wouldn't do that to him, you're far too kind for that (he acts like he knows you better than you know yourself).

Kiyosumi will try to pressure you into advancing your "relationship" at a rapid pace. At one moment, he's following you around work, trying to get your number and the next he's sleeping in your bed, hogging the blanket like an ass.

It makes your head spin and knees quake. Your life has spun upside down, no longer looking the same as just a few months ago. Kiyosumi has weaseled his way into your life, securing himself in your home like a leech.

Now he can make sure that no other man is getting even close to you. No, no, no you cannot even speak to other men. Kiyosumi wants your eyes on him, and only him. He's not letting you go, not after he's found the jackpot, you. You're the only person who's "appreciated" him on this level; you're like his sweet, little honeypot, that only he has. He doesn't want to share his new toy with the other boys, not when you're so damn cute.

UGH! He's literally the definition of an ICK. I hate him so much because, c'mon angel face, don't you know we're in this together? All you have to do is trust me, and let me take the reins, yeah? Just let me be the man. Now, just sit your cute ass down, and shut your mouth.

[teisubrainrot]

All the main Daigo ships can comfortably fit simultaneously at the same timeline over the years and it’s beautiful (Yakuza Spoilers)

ShinaDai: high schooler realizes he’s gay (TM) and has a secret crush on the only classmate that treats him fairly and friendly, does a silly little academic sacrifice for him. Then never really forgets him and seeks him out years later (Limbo between Y0-Y1 and Y5)

MasaDai (yes its main, fight me): majorly pissed 20something year old emo punk old outta juvie meets another majorly pissed 20something year old emo goth and manages to rizz his insecure ass with natural charisma and being fair and nonjudgmental towards anyone, and they hate their dads (multiple) and listen to Pierce the Veil together or sth idk. Masato abruptly ends contact after the New Year Accident and resurfaces years later as a damn politician with a wrongly placed hate towards all yakuza (Kiryu-in-prison-limbo and Y7)

RyuDai: not really deep feelings but more like ‘oh god this fucking guy I hate him so much I can’t stop thinking about him and his huge tits’. Literally ‘I’m both intimidated and aroused’ when fighting the damn dragon. Big confused someone help his gay ass (Y2)

MineDai: quite frankly needs no explanation, but ye, undersocialized man with fucked up philosophy on life meets someone who’s… nice to him? doesn’t want anything from him? their interactions are not transactions?? GOD OF A MAN I’LL DEVOTE MY LIFE TO YOU. Meanwhile Daigo, being just over 30 years old and placed in a very stressful position almost all alone becomes smitten with this awkward dude that’s like the only person his age he can be close to in this hellhole. Textbook example of skinny love as Daigo probably kept overthinking what if he mistakes just platonic feels and loyalty for romantic affection and quite frankly wonders if a Chairman should date a subordinate. Mine probably didn’t even realize what he was feeling was love until near the end of the game or/and didn’t even attempt to make a move because he considered what he was already getting from Daigo to be more than he deserves anyway. Then cue the shooting and the rest is history yadda yadda (Y3)

all canon trust me

[favcharacterpoll]

ROUND 5 MATCH 13: SCAR VS. SOUNDWAVE

Goodtimeswithscar from Third Life faces Soundwave from Transformers. Who do you like more?

Scar Propaganda:

"Swindling everyone is always great"

"The best time ever. Scitties. Jellie the cat. Mr Rizz himself. Ect."

"PLEASE THIRD LIFE SCAR IS JUST A LITTLE GUY JUST A LITTLE GUY WHO WANTS TO KEEP HIS SHIRT OFF AND CAUSE DEATH AND DESTRUCTION WITH HIS UNHINGED BESTIE AND HE LOVES WITH ALL HIS HEART HIS LLAMA NAMED PIZZA"

“scar is the server con man. he’s absolutely delightful. he’s got max charisma so he WILL sell you anything and everything. it will be useless but you will buy it anyway, sometime later this week he will also murder you. he tries to run a monopoly on sand whilst living in a giant desert. he sells “reputation points” to people under the promise that he won’t murder them if their scores are high enough (he’s lying), he will burn your precious tree down. he will turn and look to you with the sweetest voice and the most precious smile and declare that he’s going to murder everyone. and he will, you will too. and then he will let you beat him to death at the end of this brutal game. you won but at what cost? then you will jump to your death, because you cannot handle being the lone survivor.”

"VOTE SCAR OR ILL KILL YOU NOW in a chill and fun way tho"

"AWOOGA SCITTES"

"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"

"THAT FUCKING CACTUS CIRCLE"

"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"

"YOU ARE NOT IMMUNE TO THE GOOD TIMES"

"you are not immune to the good times"

"you are not immune to the good times"

Soundwave Propaganda:

"In like every show ever once he's not there/kidnapped/dead the entire Decepticon fucking faction goes to shambles. Ex: in transformers: Prime, (SPOILER!)

once he was "banished to the shadow realm" Megatron literally died and they lost the war 💀💀"

"Soundwave never loses in a poll"

"SOUNDWAVE MY BELOVED his back is so so sore from single-handedly holding up the Decepticon cause every vote for him is 1 more ibuprofen tablet given to him"

"Soundwave is the funniest fucking character in transformers because he's literally the straight man in every situation he's in with the decepticons, because all of them are absolutely incompetent at their job due to them being too focused on infighting. When Megatron died in FOC Soundwave was the one who literally put him back together and by extension, fucked everything over for everyone else because in this specific continuity Megatron just happened to be addicted to space meth.

However it can be so easy to see Soundwave as emotionless because of his straight-man role and his monotone speaking patterns, but Soundwave has plenty of emotions that he displays throughout the years, most notably being when he's dealing with the cassettes (aka his children), and can range from being soft-spoken with them, to full-out enabling their violent tendencies and letting them go ham at beating the shit out of teammates (shout out to that one g1 clip where Soundwave tries to hold back his kids for like a single second before saying "fuck it" and letting them go for the eyes).

Even outside of the cassettes though, he's very expressive in his own way. In fact, he's the KING of pettiness and sass when he wants to be. He literally plays his own supervillain music when walking the halls, he's not above insulting the other deceptions when their arguments are bullshit to him, even when faced with the destruction of the world he was like "nah" until he saw his boyfriend getting injured and went "REAL SHIT" (there's literally memes about this it's so funny). Speaking of friends, he actually has a lot of interesting dynamics with the people around him, especially when it comes to the decepticon high command. He's described as Megatron's most trusted advisor, he's somewhat amicable with Starscream (who's his own brand of frustration), and he and Shockwave even seem to get along pretty well (to the point they have a biologically fucked up tube son together?? It's been years since I've watched Siege but I swear that was what lead to Soundblaster), and did I mention he's gay? I'm pretty sure he and Cosmos are in a relationship together in the IDW comics or at least have a mutual attraction, it's cute.

Also speaking of IDW Soundwave: he likes elephants. They're his favourite animal and he loves them to the point where after he died in the comics, his kids specifically started targeting elephant poachers because they knew Soundwave would want that.

Have I mentioned he has a cat dad in the IDW comics. Like his dad is a literal robot cat that found him when he was having a sensory overload in the middle of the streets. Have these panels from when his dad died and he wasn't even there to see it! He just knew 💖

And have I mentioned he's met Fluttershy? Because he canonically met Fluttershy and let his cassettes play with her (while DELAYING HIS MISSION. THAT'S HUGE IN SOUNDWAVE LANGUAGE.)

There's also him being the reigning champion of best robot husband, but that's a whole other situation which is also really funny."

[dullgecko]

Riz sometimes needs to go undercover for missions but he refuses to do it without Fabian as his "scene partner"/"partner in crime" as a form of emotional support and for his help with the acting part of the job. They have to go deep undercover for a few months as a married couple and Riz starts to realize some things about their relationship along the way like how nice it is to go home to someone he trusts and how much he likes referring to Fabian as his husband

It wasn't really his area of expertise, Riz was more of a 'sneak in, get the answers and get out' kind of person. Even on those jobs though he would have Fabian waiting in the wings as backup just in case something went wrong. Jobs that required a BACKSTORY and ACTING though? He could barely act as a normal person in his everyday life so he definitely needed the extra support. The effort of maintaining the mask left him drained and almost non-verbal at the end of most days and his friends knew he didn't do well on his own.

Usually he wouldnt even be doing something like this, but the LPRTF needed someone in on this particular case and it was much easier using their 'man on the ground' than planeshifting a different agent in to do the job. That was how Riz Gukgak, the incredibly anti-social creature that he was, had ended up pretending to be an office worker for a company that was DEFINITELY smuggling contraband from the infernal plains. Earning their trust so they'd let him in on the secret so he could find their supplier was the thing that was taking the most time.

Of course he had to attend social outings and parties with his new co-workers and, when at least three of them tried to set him up on a date, he'd panicked and said he was married. Fabian thought it was funny and just went along with it, showing up as Rizs 'husband' at any future social gatherings and charming his co-workers in a way Riz could never (his ridiculously high charisma enough for BOTH of them).

It wasn't weird that his friend sometimes held his hand at these parties, or kissed him when they were both a little tipsy in front of everyone else. It was acting, but it made Rizs heart do a little flip every time. So what if he also started kissing him before leaving for work in the morning, or holding his hand in public when they had to go out somewhere, they never knew when they might be being watched.

It took four months of this before Riz was finally able to make the call, the goblin quitting his job and moving away to 'be closer to his husbands family' three weeks before the office was raided. The information he'd gathered on the inside used to make arrests both on the material and infernal plain while both himself and Fabian resettled themselves in Elmville.

He really did miss having the half elf there to come home to everyday, and they didn't see eachother for almost a week when they got back while Riz sorted out all the paperwork. Apparently the feeling was mutual though because Fabian casually suggested that he move in with him when they met up with their friends to catch up.

What Riz HADNT expected was, after he agreed and they made plans to meet up later and sort out moving all of Rizs things, Fabian crouching to give him a goodbye kiss before driving off. It had been part of their routine for MONTHS so they hadn't even thought about it but both Fig and Kristen who witnessed the whole affair lost their shit.

[madhatterbri]

Christmas Party | C.C.

Summary: you are invited to a Christmas party and you beg Christian to be your date to not look lonely to Jack.

Author's Note: I'm like in love with this story. 🥺🥰 Tried to make it funny and flirty. Hope I succeeded.

@theswitchbladessweetheart (hope you feel better ❤️)

@1dluver13xx

"Heeeeey it is my absolute favorite patriarch," you greeted seeing Christian backstage. He tensed at hearing your voice. Any time you greeted him that way you needed a favor. Nick chuckled and walked away giving you some privacy to talk. "Remember that favor you owe me for babysitting your daughter?"

"You mean that one time you were supposed to watch her for like five minutes while I cut a promo? And when I came back you spent five minutes looking for her because you forgot she was hiding for hide and seek?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. Of course the grumpy old man remembered the bad part. Typical.

"That very time, yeah, good, you remember. Listen, I was invited to a Christmas party and I need a date. Are you free on Friday night?" you told him. He looked at you puzzled. Christian never thought you would want to be with him outside of wrestling business.

"Why do you need a date exactly?"

"I just do, please, I will do anything,"

"Seriously? What is this high school?" Christian muttered and walked away. You yelled at him to wait and stood in front of him to block him. He rolled his eyes and looked at you. An amused yet annoyed look on his face. You had a few seconds to plead your case.

"I asked everyone else and they said no,"

"Who did you ask?"

"Max"

"And what happened?"

"He slammed the door in my face. I asked Roddy and he said he was going with Adam. Well, actually, he yelled Adam's name so I'm not sure. HOOK and Orange just stared at me while eating chips. I promise it will be worth your while,"

"Why?"

"A certain curly haired Jungle Boy will be there," you sung. The Captain Charisma figured it out. You didn't want Jack to see you alone while he had Anna.

Christian stared at you in deep thought. His blue eyes dazzled in delight. Jack would certainly not like seeing you with him. He simply nodded and told you he would text you when it's closer.

🎄

"And you still don't think he has a crush on you?" Skye questioned while looking at your reflection in the mirror. She agreed to help you with your hair and makeup. You never agreed for her to give you the third degree.

Ever since she made it to your apartment you were bombarded with questions about tonight. She started to sound like a parent. Every time she brought up Christian liking you, you shut it down. He was just doing it to mess with Jack nothing more or less. A point you frequently brought across.

"He's doing this to piss off Jack. He wasn't going to say yes until I told him he was coming," you insisted.

"Don't take this the wrong way but you are a blind idiot," she insulted.

"Oh good because I was immediately going to take that as a compliment," you scoffed.

"He trained you and was always there for you when Jack dumped you for Anna. What are we missing here, girl?"

"He is just really nice. I was his manager for a while and babysat his kid,"

"Are you really flexing on that time you lost his daughter because you forgot you were playing hide and seek with her?"

"It was one time and the new season of Stranger Things just came out!"

"And trust me he trained you because he wanted to be closer to you,"

"He wants younger talent to succeed. I bet if Kyle asked Christian would happily help him,"

"Kyle did ask him over text. Christian sent a screenshot of his cash app username and said he isn't a charity,"

You tried to hide a laugh. A pissed off Skye would not help your situation. A knock on your front door ended your conversation. The butterflies in your stomach now in full force. Despite always having a crush on him you honestly never saw anything from him. You looked in the mirror one last time.

"I look great. How can I ever repay you?"

"If I ever ask you for relationship advice please don't give it to me or remind me to do the opposite of what you say," she joked. You shot her a glare and stood up.

You called out that you were coming to the door and opened the door to see Christian. The man before you was dressed to the nines for the Christmas party. Long gone were the tights, t-shirts, and velvet sweater. Now he wore a tuxedo with a blue tie that made his eyes pop.

"You ready?" He asked leaning against the doorframe. A smirk tugged his lip as he saw you staring at him.

"Have her home by ten, Cage, I know where you work," Skye called out and winked at him. He smiled back at her.

🎄

"What a gentleman," you teased when he held the door open for you. He grabbed your hand and helped you out of the car.

"I'm not the little boys you are used to dating," he joked and closed the door behind you. He adjusted his jacket and tie before taking your arm around his.

"Really selling this, Christian, I knew you were a good choice,"

"Well I have to pay you back for that poor excuse you call babysitting," he chuckled. You slapped his arm playfully as he walked you to the backyard. His hand placed securely at the small of your back. "Let's get this party started,"

The backyard had curtains of Christmas lights covering the fence. A hot chocolate bar with assorted Christmas treats laid neatly on a wooden table. A DJ played a mix of Christmas songs and other assorted hits. A projector displayed a Christmas movie. Different Christmas games were spread out to get the guests to mingle with one another. Pillows and blankets of different styles laid around the yard to ensure maximum comfort.

"Isn't this amazing?" You asked and looked at him. His hand was pressed to his forehead. His blue eyes squinted as if he was looking intently at something.

"I think one of the lights on that curtain doesn't work,"

🎄

The night wore on with you trying to avoid Anna and Jack. It was pretty easy. Jack stayed on his phone on a bench. He mindlessly scrolled as if that was the only thing going on. Every so often he would stare at you with Christian. He glared at you if you happened to meet his gaze. Anna stayed inside the house complaining about Jack.

"Do you mind if we dance?" You asked expecting a no. Jack used to never want to dance with you. Any time you went out you had to dance with your friends. Christian looked at the dance floor and back at you. He took one last drink from his beer.

"Fine but don't get intimidated by my dance skills," he accepted your invitation.

"Wait, really?" You asked and smiled wildly. He grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor. He spun you around before placing an arm securely around your waist. His other hand grabbed yours.

The music played softly through the speakers. You were glad the song wasn't too fast. He was surprisingly a good dancer and easy to follow. The man certainly had many talents.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered in your ear. "I forgot to say that earlier,"

"Are you saying I'm not beautiful on most nights?" you giggled and looked in his eyes. "You are not so bad looking yourself,"

He spun you around and pulled you closer to him. You wondered if he was trying to sell this to Jack or if Skye could be right. A part of you wanted the latter. You just needed a sign. Anything to prove that maybe you weren't just another wrestler to him. You would get your wish shortly after.

He placed his forehead against yours. His blue eyes stared into yours as if to read your reaction. When he noticed you didn't pull away he placed his other hand to your hip. You placed your hands on his head running them down to his neck. Your hands rested on his shoulders.

"Christian, you don't have to do this," you whispered. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,"

"He's not looking. It's just you and me," he confided in you. "If you want me to stop I will,"

"Please don't stop," you pulled his jacket so he was closer to you. You could barely hear the music with how loud your heart was pounding. Your cheeks burned brightly. With the help of your high heels, your lips pressed against his. He stood in shock momentarily before kissing you back.

Growing up you always read about a spark when you kissed the right one. You always told yourself that the spark would eventually ignite when you were with Jack. After the break up you were sure it was just a fairytale. Now maybe it was time to live your own real life fairytale.

He looked at his Apple Watch and sighed.

"It's Adam. I gotta take this call. Don't go anywhere," he apologized and kissed your forehead. He walked inside to a quieter place to take the phone call. You walked to the hot chocolate bar to warm up a little.

🎄

"Seriously? The whole you bringing one of my ex-friends to not look lonely is a little pathetic," Jack sneered. You jumped not expecting him to bother you. He was so adamant about not being anywhere near you. "Can't find someone your own age?"

"You cheated on me with one of my closest friends and I'm pathetic?" You asked bitterly. Not only did your friendship with Anna end but your relationship with Jack. "You and I clearly have different definitions of pathetic,"

"You being the type of person to fuck around with anyone in the business just proves that leaving your ass was the best choice i could’ve ever made,”

Tears immediately sprung into your eyes. This was exactly what used to happen while dating him. He made outlandish claims against you. Things that were never true but still hurt. The party was no longer fun for you. Maybe you could text Christian to meet you at the car.

"Want to say it again, Perry?" Christian asked from behind Jack. The younger wrestler turned to see his now enemy and ex mentor. Everyone knew he would never repeat himself after getting choked out by CM Punk after an altercation back in August. He was more respectful to the veterans to their face. "Come on, Y/N. We are getting out of here,"

You slowly walked past Jack and into Christian's arms. He pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. His arms felt so safe like he could save you from anything and everything. The sound of his heartbeat calming you.

"Oh, and Jack, go fuck yourself," he hissed. He took your hand and led you back to the car leaving a shocked Jungle Boy in the backyard.

[sorormaior]

What were the other Primarchs (Dorn, Mortarion, Jaghatai, etc) thoughts of Cary?

I meant to answer this. Yesterday. OH WELL

So the main thing is that Cary is there to balance out Night Haunter. They are there so that when he’s like. I would like to start stabbing my brothers they slowly shake their head. They’re a Captain of no company but if asked they’d point at him and be like. I’m the captain of that.

So that being said: they moved through high command a lot, therefore they are known. Here are various opinions on The Captain.

LION EL’JONSON

I was actually going to put in that he once cracked their orbital socket backhanding them after they got a bit too sassy, but it never made the cut. He likely preferred having them around as it made Night Haunter easier to deal with. They’re efficient and that’s what matters.

FULGRIM

That’s his sweet baby! Fulgrim took one look at the two terrified children clinging onto each other and was like. Well I can’t not raise them. He’s a guy who raises people up, and Cary thinks about him often, misses him. They were close.

PERTURABO

My man Pert don’t like anyone much. I don’t think he’d have like, objections or problems with them but like: he wouldn’t care. They do their job and don’t get in his way.

JAGHATAI KHAN

Forgive my ignorance but I know. Little about him. However I don’t see that he would have had any problems with them, probably would have been happy to exchange a few words with them, nothing special.

LEMAN RUSS

Cary’s not allowed to drink with Space Wolves anymore. They still haven’t gotten the stains out of the rugs. He liked ‘em.

ROGAL DORN

In Carylore: Dorn grabbed ‘em to stop them interfering with the Emperor and Night Haunter’s first meeting. So his first impressions of them were of a ratty, underfed teenager who tried to punch him. His impressions have thankfully improved. They are now a ratty Astartes who does paperwork and can be trusted to reel Night Haunter in.

FERRUS MANUS

Doesn’t bother him, keeps communication efficient, once on the Bucephalus he walked past a bunch of Iron Hands cheering them on as they tried to lift weights. Was surprised they made it through augmentation, consistently surprised they’re still alive.

ANGRON

No thoughts head angry. Cary had more interaction with Khârn anyway.

MORTARION

Generally positive opinions, Cary doesn’t show outwardly as a psyker (the future visions could have been explained by geneseed anyway) and they’re polite. They have definitely tried to feed him before and showed some concern about his health without overstepping the mark. They were kind to him, and that’s what matters.

MAGNUS

Thinks they’re funny and one of the better members of the Eighth to talk to. Was once patronising to them at a legion social and Cary hasn’t quite forgotten or forgiven. He did look to them to be the voice of reason on occasion when having a discussion with Night Haunter

HORUS LUPERCAL

I think about Horus a lot as a guy who is like, running on charisma and social skills. I think he’d see Cary as a kindred spirit in that regard. Game recognises game etc etc.

LORGAR

Another one of the delegation of light crew. Pities them, something Cary would dislike him for if they knew. Thinks they’d make a good prophet.

VULKAN

He’s generally kind of disappointed by them, but how much of that is magnified by Cary’s own guilt is up for debate. They are both “good” people in bad positions, and Cary is desperately trying to keep an entire legion from falling to pieces. But Vulkan always made them feel like they should be doing more. Complex feelings on both sides.

ALPHARIUS OMEGON

Useful. Knows how to tailor a report. Knows how to act around different people. One to keep an eye on.

Didn’t include Night Haunter or the other two Weedsmoking Primarchs or Gman, but can do in another post/reblog if wanted :DD

Thank you for the question! This was fun to think about!!

[grandmother-goblin]

Field Study - Chapter 14

Ao3 - Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Astarion comes face to face with Cas's older brother, a famous and brutal monster hunter, and fears for his life.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Word Count: 4.1k

Chapter Tags: Meeting the family, sibling tomfoolery, relationship talk, kissing.

Every one of Astarion’s survival instincts had agreed on one course of action in that moment:

Run.

Run as fast and as hard as his legs would take him. Run until he found a place to hide deep within the depths of the woods. Or the dark bowels of a cave crawling with spiders. Hells, he’d even go back to that goblin-infested hellhole.

Then maybe, just maybe, he would buy himself a few more precious moments before the Huntsman of Neverwinter rammed a stake through his heart.

He swallowed as his eyes scoured over the Huntsman; the man was nearly as large as Halsin. Fitted leather armor emphasized his muscular build and sunlight glinted off the steel of the (menacing) sword strapped to his back and the daggers secured to his belt. And those were only the weapons Astarion could see — who knew how many other lethal instruments the Huntsman might have concealed on his person.

There was a sharpness to the Huntsman’s features that reminded him of Cas. But his face held none of her softness.

His dark eyes were alert and calculating, like a hawk perched high on a building as it tracked a mouse scurrying about an open street. Four prominent scars marred his neck — two pairs of separate, unmistakably vampiric bite marks — that tore down to his collarbone like he had ripped the vampire away with their fangs still embedded in his throat. The man moved with easy, confident grace like he knew damn well he was the most dangerous being for miles around.

A man who turned monsters and predators into mere prey.

Gods. Cazador would hate him.

The man exuded power in a way Cazador could only dream of. There was a natural, unspoken charisma to the Huntsman that his former master would never have been able to emulate even if he tried.

It was a presence that commanded respect; not because he expected it, but because one couldn’t help but give it freely.

Astarion was pulled from his musings when Cas’s fingers squeezed his gently. “Just be yourself,” she said, her voice echoing in his mind as the tadpole squirmed. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Nothing to worry about? Was she out of her mind?

As much as he wanted to believe her, experience and instinct told trust the truth of what was standing before him. And the truth was that he stood face-to-face with a large elf who was armed to the teeth and had a reputation for killing monsters. Efficiently.

Although Cas didn’t treat him like a monster, Astarion couldn’t be certain that her brother would extend him the same courtesy.

Yet if the stories were to be believed, the Huntsman would have long since sent him to Kelemvor already - had he been inclined to do so. Even the exaggerated tales told by bards made a point to emphasize how quick the Huntsman was. And how his prey never saw him coming.

But, Astarion was still in one piece. For now.

Even with that in mind, a lump remained firmly lodged in his throat as his feet stayed rooted to the spot. His fingers tightened around Cas’s hand, holding it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the Material Plane as he stared at the Huntsman.

Planning had never been Astarion’s strong suit. As much as he had wanted to have the Huntsman as an ally against Cazador, he never considered how an actual encounter with the man might go. And he most certainly never envisioned meeting the Huntsman…

Well…

He certainly never envisioned meeting him like this.

What in the hells was he supposed to say? ‘Hello Mr. Huntsman, Sir, you see, we were just coming back from a nice morning walk. The bite marks? Well that certainly wasn’t from last night when your little sister was on her hands and knees begging for my cock. Where did you get that idea?’

Yes, because that would certainly win him over.

As if hearing Astarion’s thoughts, the Huntsman’s eyes snapped onto him. He couldn’t help but shrink under the man’s gaze, subconsciously curling in on himself as he looked everywhere but at the threatening presence looming before him.

Was looking away the smartest decision? No. But maybe if he made himself seem pathetic enough, the man would take pity on him and let him live.

Honestly, that plan had a better chance of working than running away did.

What had he been thinking — seducing the Huntsman’s sister? Did he expect the man to immediately welcome him into the family or something? For the monster hunter not to question the motivations of a monster? For him to say ‘Thank you for sleeping with my sister. To show my appreciation, let me kill Cazador for you’?

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Cas.” The Huntsman’s voice broke through Astarion’s thoughts. There was a soothing quality to it, a deep and rich timbre that could probably make the reading of bank records sound interesting.

Much to Astarion’s immediate relief, the Huntsman’s attention had returned to Cas, releasing him from the oppressive weight of the man’s gaze. Now that it wasn’t on him, Astarion almost felt like he could think straight again.

Cas had said that he had nothing to worry about, so perhaps he should just… trust her. She knew her brother better than he did, after all.

Despite how he tried to reassure himself, his nerves remained on edge. Centuries of conditioning told him that he was far from safe in the Huntsman’s presence, and no amount of positive thinking could change that.

When he felt Cas’s fingers detangle from his, a tendril of dread slithered through him. Immediately, Astarion wanted to take hold of her hand again. Though he would never admit it, holding her hand felt like the only thing keeping him grounded at the moment.

Or from running off into the woods like a coward, at the very least.

When her hand slipped fully out of his, he closed his fingers around the open air as if trying to grasp at an invisible tether between them.

Seemingly obvious to Astarion’s tumultuous inner thoughts, Cas started towards her brother.

“How long were you ominously posing there for?” she asked cheekily.

The Huntsman said nothing as he lifted her off her feet and pulled her into a hug so tight that Astarion swore he heard some of her bones pop.

A strangled sound came from Cas’s throat as she half-heartedly (and unsuccessfully) kicked at him. Her arms were pinned to her sides, rendering her practically helpless until the Huntsman decided to let her go. “You’re crushing me,” she groaned.

“I am so fucking pissed at you,” he said, his muscles bulging as he squeezed Cas even tighter. “I thought I lost your stupid ass.”

“Can’t breathe,” Cas squeaked with another pitiful kick of her legs. “Being squished.”

“Good,” he said before placing her firmly on the ground and releasing her from his embrace. The Huntsman settled his hands on Cas’s shoulders and bent down to eye level with her. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I couldn’t find you?”

Cas averted her eyes, and her brother repositioned himself to stay within her line of sight. With the new angle, Astarion could see the man’s expression. There was a slight furrow to his brow and his lips tugged almost imperceptibly downward.

“I tried to reach out as soon as I could,” she replied, still doing her best not to look at her brother, her voice sounding smaller than Astarion had ever heard it.

For some reason, Astarion wanted to reach out to Cas and make that distress in her eyes disappear. He yearned to pull her into his arms and… oh, he didn’t know. Provide some comfort, maybe?

Gods, when was the last time he had wanted to comfort someone? He wasn’t even sure he knew how.

The Huntsman dismissed Cas’s response with a shake of his head. “You never should have been in this position in the first place,” he said sternly, like a parent lecturing a child. “That nautiloid was going after me. Not you. If you hadn’t—”

“I couldn’t let it get you!” Cas snapped as she took a step back, breaking her brother’s grasp on her shoulders.

Her outburst didn’t appear to surprise the Huntsman one bit. He just continued to watch her with a slightly melancholy and expectant look in his eyes — as if he already knew what she was going to say and was just waiting for her to say it.

“I had the opportunity to save you for once, so I did,” Cas continued, her voice taking on a calmer tone once again. “The people of Faerun can’t afford to lose you.”

“And I can’t afford to lose you.” Though the Huntsman’s voice was level, Astarion could hear a tremor of fear behind it.

Her brother was furious, there was no doubt about that. Yet, that anger seemed to be born out of more than just fear of losing her. It seemed to be born out of love. Something Astarion wasn’t sure he had ever experienced, he realized.

“I’m sorry,” Cas said, crossing her arms like she was trying to hold herself together..

“It’s okay.” The Huntsman straightened and ran his fingers through his short, brown hair as he exhaled deeply. “We can talk about this later. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Cas nodded and pursed her lips, like there were more words she wanted to say but she had stopped herself. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

Throwing his arm around his sister’s shoulder, the Huntsman gave her a brief squeeze before stepping away.

Then the man’s eyes locked onto Astarion’s once again, and even though he was smiling, the intensity of his piercing gaze was unsettling. It was like the Huntsman’s eyes were dissecting him, peeling back all of his layers to the undead heart in his chest.

A chill went up Astarion’s spine and his insides twisted uncomfortably, but he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but stare back. He could only hope that the Huntsman couldn’t see the darkness that lurked within.

He swallowed, tilting his head up toward the Huntsman as the man stopped directly in front of him, blocking out the morning sun like an eclipse.

If he thought any of the gods might have listened, this was when Astarion would have prayed.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you,” the Huntsman said, his smile turning apologetic as he extended his hand cordially. “I’m Vesryn.”

Vesryn’s hand was heavily calloused and littered with scars — clear evidence of his decades of hunting and wielding weapons, although it looked like he at least tried to take care of them. Given all the politicians, patriars, and nobles he brushed elbows with when he made special appearances, he probably felt like he had to. Signing autographs, shaking hands, kissing babies; all the things a celebrity of his caliber did.

Carefully, Astarion grasped his hand and introduced himself in turn, his voice sounding high pitched to his own ears.

Gods, were his palms sweaty? He hoped he didn’t just shake the Huntsman’s hand with sweaty palms. How mortifying would that be?

“Astarion,” Vesryn repeated back to him, a flicker of recognition flashing across his eye. He released his grip and placed his hands on his hips, taking on a more relaxed posture. Or perhaps he was trying to subtly wipe the sweat off of his palms. “It’s good to meet you. Cas mentioned you in one of her sendings.”

Surprise mixed with a feeling of flattery at his words. More importantly, Astarion felt relieved. Tension eased from his shoulders and the lump in his throat diminished.

Maybe the Huntsman just didn’t know Astarion was one of the very monsters he was famous for hunting yet. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course the bloody Huntsman of Neverwinter knew he was a vampire. Even with his ability to walk around in the sun, there were a couple of things about him that were very hard to miss.

Not to mention, the bite mark on Cas’s neck.

Though if Vesryn took offense, he was doing a spectacular job of hiding it. In fact, Vesryn seemed sincerely happy to meet him. He didn’t seem like he wanted to attack, kill, or maim him at all.

And that felt… wrong.

Astarion cleared his throat, hoping his voice would go back to normal. “Did she now?” he asked, not knowing how else to respond. “All good things, I hope?”

If he were talking to anyone else, he might have come up with something witty. But he needed to play it safe. At least until he had a better idea of what kind of person Vesryn was.

Historically speaking, his smart mouth got him into trouble more often than anything else he did. Just because Cas found him funny didn’t mean her brother shared her humor.

“Twenty five words a spell and she used most of them telling me how handsome and wonderful you are. It was nauseating, really.”

“Vesryn,” Cas hissed and slapped her brother’s armored arm as an adorable redness tinged her cheeks.

A cheeky grin tugged at Vesryn’s lips. “She actually used two spells.”

“I did not,” Cas protested, her face flushing further even as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t believe a word he says. He’s just trying to embarrass me.”

“Trying? I’m succeeding,” Vesryn replied, standing straighter with an air of self-satisfaction. Then he playfully poked at Cas’s ribs, making her jump. “You don’t normally get this flustered in front of someone. You must really like him.”

“Ves!” Another smack landed against the Huntsman’s armor, followed by a bellow of laughter.

Vesryn rubbed over the spot Cas had hit with an exaggerated wince. “I can’t believe you’re being so mean to me in front of your friend.” He glanced at Astarion with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “Is she this mean to you?”

The smartass in him told him to say ‘yes’ but his survival instincts reined him in. “I’ve always found her to be delightful company.”

“Oh, lucky you,” he replied and cocked his chin toward the forest. “Take my advice and run while you can. She only gets worse.”

Cas groaned and dragged her palm down her face. “Remember when I said I was glad you were okay? I take that back.”

She placed both hands on Vesyrn’s chest before firmly and persistently pushing the wall of a man back toward the direction of camp. It wasn’t until she managed to make him budge a single step that they both started to lose their composure. “Get your ass out of here,” Cas said, her voice sounding like she was trying to hold back a laugh.

“See? So mean.”

“Yes, I’m a bully,” she agreed and pushed him another step. “Can you give Astarion and I a moment? We were talking about something.”

“‘Talking’, sure.” Vesryn made finger quotes in the air but then relented, letting Cas push him a few more steps toward camp. “Okay, okay, I‘ll give you a few minutes. No need to be so pushy.”

Cas made a shooing motion with her hands like the Huntsman of Neverwinter was nothing more than a wayward pigeon. “We’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

Vesryn threw a smile over his shoulder, the kind a storybook hero or a handsome prince might give their admirers. “It was nice meeting you, Astarion,” he said before starting back toward the campsite.

‘Nice’ wasn’t the word Astarion would have chosen. It was anxiety-inducing, terrifying, and worst of all… confusing? But it definitely wasn’t ‘nice’.

The Huntsman was nothing like Astarion had expected — the man hunted monsters such as vampires for a living. There were tales of him slaying all manner of creatures from devils to dragons. Not to mention how a mere decade ago, Vesryn had killed a vampire lord, the Collector. A vampire so ancient that he made Cazador seem like a child in comparison. And if the stories were to be believed, Vesryn had killed the Collector in the monster’s own lair amidst hundreds of spawn.

There was no doubt in Astarion’s mind that the Collector had done what any vampire lord would have done: using his spawn as fodder in an attempt to save his own skin, and most certainly, Vesryn had killed them all.

And yet, Vesryn was being downright friendly with a vampire spawn who quite obviously fed on his little sister.

Perhaps if Cas hadn’t been around, things might have been different. Perhaps the friendliness was just an act to throw Astarion off guard and make it easier to ram a stake through him when he least expected it. If that was the case, the Huntsman had certainly succeeded in throwing him off.

Still, there was something about Vesryn that seemed so genuine. His handshake was firm, but not dominating. His eagle-like eyes, keen and observant, were also warm and curious. Then there was the way Vesryn interacted with Cas with such open affection and camaraderie — it was disarming to say the least.

As the Huntsman’s form retreated, Astarion felt a weight lifting from his chest. Like the man’s presence was a heavy fog that emanated from his very being, enveloping those who didn’t know how to navigate it.

Though Astarion had never been in the presence of a god, he suspected it probably felt a little something like standing in front of the Huntsman of Neverwinter.

The nervous, prickling sensation on his skin eased as he felt himself begin to relax. He exhaled slowly, trying to breathe out the tension that coiled in his veins.

He hoped he hadn’t accidentally made a fool of himself in front of the Huntsman. Not that it really mattered, but he wanted Vesryn to have a good impression of him. It would probably please Cas if he and her brother were on good terms after all.

Instinctively, something old and ingrained tried to push back against the selfless thought despite the fact that he was becoming more and more comfortable with caring about someone other than himself.

A few weeks ago, Cas’s happiness wouldn’t have been the first thing that he would have thought of when it came to building a relationship with the Huntsman. Hells, even a few days ago his motives had been purely selfish. The only feelings that had mattered were his own, and Cas was nothing more than a tool he could use to get what he wanted.

How quickly things had changed.

A brush of her fingers against his palm drew him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?” Cas asked with gentle amusement. “That’s not how I pictured you meeting my brother.”

“Well, that makes two of us.” Astarion intertwined his fingers with hers, the simple connection like a balm on his frayed nerves. “Did you really tell him about me?”

Cas shook her head. “He asked who I was with, and I gave him everyone’s name. Anything else he knows he either picked up from just now or from talking to everyone back at camp.”

He gave a mock pout, as if her not gossiping about him was a huge disappointment. When she gave him a smile in response, he stepped into her space and placed his hands on her hips, pulling her close enough that her chest brushed against his when she took a breath. That little touch was enough to send a thrill through him, and part of him was tempted to steal her away again.

For whatever reason, he felt like everything was about to change.

He wanted a few more moments with just the two of them. A few more moments where they could pretend their problems didn’t exist and they could just be together.

“Pity,” Astarion said, his thumbs brushing over the jut of her hip bone through the thin fabric of her shirt. “I would have loved to have heard how wonderful and beautiful I am.”

Cas blinked at him, looking completely unimpressed. “You’re wonderful and beautiful,” she said flatly.

A smile tugged at his lips as he pulled her flush against him, his hands sliding around to her backside. “For the love of the gods, would it kill you to put some enthusiasm into it?”

Cas slipped her arms over his shoulders. “I think you heard plenty of enthusiasm last night,” she replied in a low and husky voice that made his blood stir.

She tilted her face up toward his, her lips just a breath away from his own with a silent invitation. It was an invitation he was all too happy to accept. His mouth caught hers in a brief, sugary sweet kiss. Nothing but the gentle pressure of her lush lips against his, the subtle and intoxicating taste of her on his tongue. It would have been all too easy to lose himself in that moment.

Before he fell too deep into whatever spell she wove around him, he pulled away. Her brother was waiting only a few hundred feet away, and Astarion didn’t want to push his luck.

Cas tasted her lips as though she already missed his touch. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her head tilted thoughtfully as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Vesryn is going to ask about you and me,” she said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to tell him anything you don’t want me to.”

Of course, the Huntsman was going to ask about their relationship. What kind of big brother would he be if he didn’t? Especially considering Astarion’s nature, it only made sense that the monster hunter would at least check in on her.

Yet, Astarion had never expected Cas to ask for his thoughts. Or his permission. He just figured that Cas would tell her brother whatever she felt like without any input from him.

“What were you thinking of telling him?” he asked, feeling a little off-guard and wanting to get some idea of Cas’s stance on the matter before he risked fouling things up.

Cas shrugged. “That we’re friends,” she said, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to her, but to him? He wasn’t sure if anyone had considered him a friend before. At least, not enough of a friend to tell their family about him.

Yet, describing their relationship as something as simple as friendship didn’t sit quite right with him. After all they had been through together, after all the battles they fought, after all of their long conversations over a bottle of wine or the time spent with her skin against his…. It felt like what they had together was more than just friendship.

So much more.

Astarion tucked his finger under her chin, tilting her head up to better see her eyes. “Just friends?” he asked as he swiped his thumb across her lower lip — a reminder of all the times their lips had touched. “Is that all that we are?”

She wrapped her fingers around his hand and gently lifted it from her face. “What else would you have me say?”

That was the real question, wasn’t it?

What did he want her to say?

Cas wasn’t one of his victims or just another target. She wasn’t just a shield for him to hide behind, or a stranger with powerful connections. She wasn’t just another night he wished he could forget.

She was something.

They were something.

What that something was, he couldn’t put a name on it. But he knew what it wasn’t: just friendship.

Friendship may have laid the foundation, but they’d built something together that went far beyond that. Whatever that something was, it was messy, complicated, and probably not completely structurally sound — but it was theirs.

They could fill in the cracks as needed.

Cas gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, taking his silence as the answer he didn’t know how to articulate. “That’s what I thought,” she said lightly and laced her fingers with his. “We don’t have to figure it out now.”

An odd feeling of disappointment settled in his stomach. Part of him wanted her to change her answer. Or at the very least, agree that they were more than just friends.

Because people who were just friends didn’t do what he and Cas did.

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of her fingers. “I suppose it’s kind of nice not to know exactly what we are, if I’m being completely honest,” he said as he gazed into her eyes. “But I am glad that ‘friends’, at the very least, is a certainty.”

Cas smiled at him. “Me too.”

---

Beginning

Previous Chapter

[everchased]

Question about Finch's tol-ness!

Karlach, and a number of other nice tall people I've met, have a habit of particularly being careful and friendly to make sure they don't scare people with their size.

Finch obviously has the capacity to be very intimidating. But when he doesn't want to intimidate, are there things he does to gentle the impression he gives?

Additional: The other companions are certainly capable, but does being taller/tankier than most of his new friends inspire any amount of protectiveness in Finch?

ooooo good question

i think he probably doesn't have to compensate for his size quite as hard as karlach if only because he's not on fire and his charisma is so high (16). he's not overly friendly but he's very careful with his tone. he also stands back a few feet from the smaller races so he doesn't loom over them. and if things are casual or he's back at camp, he'll sit to speak to people!

i think he tries to go for "respectable" rather than "nonthreatening" when out and about. he has a proper posture and stands straight most of the time so there's never stooping to accommodate people.

and to answer the second question, yes! in battle, his mind switches to his training under the order of tempus. he trusts that every companion is a capable fighter/caster with their place on the field, and his place varies between attacking the biggest threat in line of sight and backing up anyone who gets pinned. busy man! but he feels in his element. hunter's mark sees a lot of use.

however, if someone gets too seriously wounded, he changes tactics from measured offense to viciously offensive defense. he tends to insert himself (often to his detriment yay martyr complex) between other companions and danger and start burning through upper level smites. his healing is for if someone is bleeding out on the ground or after victory is secured (or for shadowheart to handle from the back lines). first priority is killing the thing faster than it can kill him or his companions.

[zephrunsimperium]

Fidds stayed with Ford so much longer than he had to.

He must have known something was very wrong. Ford hadn’t contacted him in 6 years. He doesn’t really know anyone in Gravity Falls. He works so hard. He draws triangles everywhere. He’s clearly keeping secrets. He’s so anxious and defensive all the time. He’s just not happy. He wasn’t very happy in college either, but this is different, this is scary.

But even after the Gremloblin and being so traumatized that he resorted to memory erasure, he stayed with Ford, he comes to the portal test. Why? Because goddamn it, if Fidds doesn’t stay, then who else would? Ford needs help and love and support, Fidds knows that. He’s willing to face down a demon because he cares.

But Ford, he sees that devotion and it scares him. Stanley was the last person who was that devoted and it hurt both of them, it ended it flames. Ford has convinced himself that he’s unlovable and doesn’t deserve anyone’s love. Fiddleford giving that love willingly? No. No, he wants something. Because Fiddleford couldn’t possibly understand him and all his pain, no one can. He’s alone.

Of course it ends tragically. Fiddleford’s life is utterly ruined because Ford didn’t listen and Fiddleford’s bleeding heart got the best of him.

From my fic:

“What did you think was gunna happen, Stanferd? Actually, I think I can guess at that much. Guess I’m just upset you trusted a triangle with a bow tie and a high charisma stat more than me.” He shook his head, then met Ford’s eyes again with a pained expression. “Were ya really that desperate for approval? You shoulda called me, Ford, I coulda talked yer ear off ‘bout how much I love ya and how smart you are. But I’m not enough for you, am I? No sir, I never was. And now the whole goddamn world’s gunna pay the price. You wanna be special, you wanna be remembered? Well here ya are, with front row seats and a penthouse view to the end of the world!”

“I…” The syllable came out in a breathy whisper, shame blossoming in his chest and flowing to the tips of his fingers. What was he supposed to say?

“Yeah, you, Ford, that’s what it’s always about.”

Despite all of this, Fidds barely hesitates to forgive Ford. He’s done being ruled by the past. Fiddleford may be completely off his hinges, but he loves with his whole heart and I really hope that one day, Ford can see what Fidds and Stanley see in him: a man in pain and in desperate need of tenderness, brilliant in his own right with a gentle soul.

[furrbbyx]

This is an idea I had because I really really wanted the wednesday show to be part elvira, part body horror, part camp, and utrerly the same vibe as the old movies. Kooky. BUT GROWN

Anyway heres the first part of a fanfiction I never really finished, fearuring a naga. I'm editing this on mobile which is to say im not editing this at alllll.

Approx 2200 words. Do not reproduce or copy.

Warnings...uh....really soft vore. This is maybe sfw.

In a haunted warehouse in upstate New York, on any given weeknight you can buy a ticket and enter into a delightful, odd place where nothing you experience can be trusted. Maybe you heard about it from a coworker, or maybe you were drawn by the eerie blinking lights announcing

Wednesday World.

Wednesday World.

Either way, you will be ushered into a seat on risers that climb high against the brick walls next to a couple sharing a soft drink and a hotdog, or a family of five all trying to get the best view and coddle the baby who is out way past it's bed time. Each act will strain your sense of reality.

A fortune teller picks a victim from the crowd and reveals a terrifying prophecy of failed love in a scratchy high voice. Will the prediction come true?

A magician mesmerizes the crowd with increasingly dangerous tricks. Did he really conjure a demon in a fiery cauldron? How it all seems like a dream when you wake up in your bed the next morning in your normal house and go about your normal day, pretending those feats weren't all that impressive. But maybe you aught to go back and see how to do that that hypnotism trick.

Yes, maybe the curiosities of Wednesday World are only as real people want them to be. Yet that never stopped a show, nor the crowds, nor the money. As for Wednesday Addams, well nothing stops Wednesday.

On this night, a brisk October evening where mist floats over the vast concrete parking lot like waiting ghosts, the last act of the night is drawing quite a spectacle.

A hand painted canvas hanging on the facade of the building reveals the biggest attraction of the night and tonight it reads:

"Sinful Snake-Monster Man! He'll devour your soul!" in bright blood-red letters. Below the lettering is the image of a beautiful brown-skinned shirtless man with glowing yellow eyes and a imposing black-scaled hood flared around his face and shoulders. He's a beautiful and terrifying beast who's smooth torso flows into the thick coiled segments of a white bellied snake. The artist is quite talented as this snake-man looks like he's about to slither out of the canvas and start eating the people lined up to buying tickets.

The crowds press into the building from all entrances. Their warm bodies add to the heat and the heady undercurrent of anticipation, stopping the freezing cold of the winter night from dampening the hype. They mingle and writhe like a sinuous creature themselves until the mood of the room changes suddenly.

Cheers erupt from the stands, clapping, and whistling and laughing humans ready for their entertainment.

Ah, the Ring Master has entered.

"My gracious fans" The RM coos into the microphone. The smile and charisma in his voice cause another round of appreciative whistling.

"Heh, you flatter me! Tonight my lovelies the greatest exibit to date, brought to you by the one and only Wednesday World. The night cirsu of delights and horrors, magic and mystery, danger and daring! We cannot be responsible for the state of your brain after viewing this specatcle. Those with weak stomach have been warned!"

The RM lowers their voice and spins slowly in place addressing everyone in the room.

"Deep in the indus valley lives one of the most deadly creatures known to man! Thought o be a myth, a silly tale to scare the children."

RM wags their finger as a nervous chuckle goes through the crowd

"No myth however! We have found him! Captured by the skilled renowned snake charmer Ares Zarin!"

With a flourish the RM gestures to a tall lanky human man who has come from behind the curtain at one edge of the ring. His tightly curled brown hair is cut close to his head and shines with pommade. The white linen shirt he's wearing is unbuttoned showing his muscled chest. At his hip is a long wicked looking whip. He walks with a confident swagger into the ring smiling and greeting the now wild crowd with waves and bows. He stalks around the ring in his big thick jungle boots as if he's never known a day of fear in his life.

"Come now friend, aren't you a little worried?" The RM goads Ares as they exchange a hand shake and hug greeting.

"Well I've never met a snake I couldn't control" Ares says into the microphone. Quite a few in the crowd can be heard swooning over his easy confidence and good looks.

"I don't know, ladies and gentleman. No beast can love it's captor." The RM sweeps their arm to the curtain again where two brawny pale circus workers and pulling a huge cage into the ring. Inside the barred cage is the snake man. He's been adorned with golden jewelry and a silken wrap about his hips. He looks relaxed but there is an agitation to his shifting coils and flicking tongue.

A hush ripples through the crowd.

"Abomination!"

"Monster!"

Some cannot contain their fear, compulsively screaming in the face of their worst nightmare.

The workers bring the cage to the middle of the ring and await the RM's next words. They are simple. The crowd is already stunned.

"For your delight! and fuel for your nightmares, Wednesday Word presents the Sinful Snake-Monster Man and the Charmer!"

The men work at the locks on the cage and the door falls open before they scramble away and the lights in the room cut off leaving only an ominous spotlight on Ares. Ares looks unaffected, bored even as the sounds of the snake-man uncoiling itself fill the ring.

The susurration of skin is the only sound coming from outside of the spotlight. No one can see what's hidden in the darkness, yet they already know what waits there.

The crowd seems to cringe as one, as the tail of the beast whips out from the darkness. Ares leaps to the side, rolling away from the first strike then another.

A loud hiss of anger blooms in the darkness. Ares uncoils the whip from his waist and stalks towards the the edge of the light.

"Come now, my sweet. Don't be sore. We've let you out of that cage, show yourself to the crowd" He says, taunting.

The hiss grows louder. Ares jumps back. The beast follows him into the light fangs bared and its patterned hood flared wide and quivering. Ares laughs.

"You see, he's vain if nothing else!" Ares shouts to the crowd. They whistle and cheer in response! Some stomping their feet in agreement.

The snake-man curls and twists his body into the ring. He so big that his long tail seems to encircle the entire space, leaving no room for escape. Ares holds the whip loosely, watching, not ready to strike at the snake-man but he reaches into his shirt with the other hand and draws out a peculiar object. A smallish thing that looks like a long-necked little gourd with a doubled fife stuck into the bottom of it. There's a net of cowrie shells around the bulbus middle and the neck is painted with arcane symbols of protection. Ares lifts it to his lips and begins to play a reedy rhythmic tune charging the ambiance with an eerie feeling.

The song calls the beast closer. It sways to the music, coiling and slithering with unnerving grace towards Ares. And it seems the human crowd is just as hypnotized by the sweet soothing noise.

Outside of the glare of the spotlight  all of this fanfare is being closely monitored by the RM and the grunts, yes, but also by the proprietor of this unholy circus: Wednesday Addams. Below the circus ring, in her tightly locked office sits the genius woman and mastermind of this operation. Wednesday watches the act, the RM, and the crowd as they are captured by her surveillance system. In fact she watches the entire building, the grounds the receiving garage and the corridor leading to her office on multiple monitors spread across on wall of the room. 

Wednesday has grown into a bewitching, maniupulative woman, Her gothic style is a symphony of darkness and allure, embodied in her striking hair and makeup choices. Long ebony locks cascade down her back in thick waves, contrasting against her porcelain skin. Her eyes are framed by dramatic, winged eyeliner, accentuating their piercing intensity, while deep, burgundy lipstick adds a touch of mystery to her full lips.

As for her attire, she embraces her gothic sensibilities with a bold and daring ensemble. A mesh top, intricately patterned with occult symbols, hugs her curves snugly, revealing hints of skin beneath its web-like design. Paired with a flowing black skirt that sways with each confident step, she exudes an air of elegance and defiance.Her gothic style is a symphony of darkness and allure, embodied in her striking hair and makeup choices. Long ebony locks cascade down her back in thick waves, contrasting against her porcelain skin. Her eyes are framed by dramatic, winged eyeliner, accentuating their piercing intensity, while deep, burgundy lipstick adds a touch of mystery to her full lips.

As for her attire, she embraces her gothic sensibilities with a bold and daring ensemble. A mesh top, intricately patterned with occult symbols, hugs her curves snugly, revealing hints of skin beneath its web-like design. Paired with a flowing black skirt that sways with each confident step, she exudes an air of elegance and defiance.

She's anticipating the climax of the act, having watched the rehearsals between her current lover Kaliya and the cocky Ares. She licks her lips. The unnatural scene in front of her is quite arousing. To the crowd it looks as if Kaliya is utterly under Ares's spell, they feel safe now that the snake-man is under control. But Wednesday knows Kaliya is stalking the man. No mortal could match Kaliya in speed or strength, nor in the bedroom Wednesday muses. For a few moments she's hyper focused on the thick smooth-scaled muscle of his tail especially where the sharp human hip bones meld into his monstrous snake body. 

He sways in front of her on camera while she toys with a nipple, sore from the fang marks he'd giver her just this afternoon. The sheer mesh of her top gives her easy access to her puckering nipples.

Ares plays like Kaliya is occupied with the sound of the fife, sauntering closer to the swaying snake-man. Kaliya plays like a docile beast for the crowds, until it's too late that is. The sudden speed with which the man's tail grabs Ares distorts the air with a noise so ominous it causes someone in the crowd to scream in its wake.

"Look out!"

The fife flies from Ares's grasp as he's stunned by the hit. The vicious tail lifts Ares by his leg dangling him above the ground like a bunch of grapes. Ares recovers quickly enough to grab at a hidden dagger and lunges for the appendage wrapped around his leg.Kaliya's hiss fills the room setting off the crowd like never before. Screams erupt as the crowd watches Ares become wrapped in writhing snakeflesh up to his stomach, still held high and being dragged closer to doom. 

"abomination!"

"god someone stop it! he'll be eaten!"

"Kill the beast!"

Kaliya seems to transform before their eyes, his body vibrating and expanding the distinctive reptilian hood of his species making him look even larger than before. His jaw grows wide, unhinges with wet pops until a terrifying maw opens around fangs as long as a tiger's, glittering with saliva. With shocking quickness the constricting coils around Areas release him suddenly and he drops down Kaliya's throat before the man has a chance to scream. Kaliya makes a single gulp around the fat bulge in a grotesque feeding display of Ares getting devoured alive.

Finally the spell of spectacle is broken as the people panic and start stampeding out of the circus. Suddenly more of the burly, pale workers appear among them guiding the flow, trying to stop the worst of the trampling and pandemonium. The ring is filled with 5 men and the ring master, making a show of conquering the man-eating monster and trying to save Ares. Yet they need not have strained their acting skills in such a way. The illusion had done much better than anticipated. Not a single patron stayed long enough to see Kaliya pushed into the shadows backstage.