#ship: your fangs on my cold heart

[theelderhazelnut]

🕯for Ombra and Falkus 👀

send me 🕯️to hear my character's inner thoughts about your character.

Warning: a little bit of language

Ombra:

Actually, in their first meeting Ombra didn’t pay much attention to Gorgon. I imagine Gorgon and some of the other task force 141 members met Ombra while receiving their instructions, and Ombra just took a brief look at them, and then gestured them to leave lmaooo (I think Price did the talking). Then after a few days Argen came to Ombra and was like. “Yoo that new operator is so cool.”

“Which one?”

“That one with curly hair and so many scars on her face.”

“Oh, I wasn’t paying attention.”

THEN she learned about Gorgon’s specialty in toxicology, and oh was she impressed. THEN she saw Val’s wild and energetic personality. She more IMPRESSED. However, given the fact she’s reserved and withdrawn, it took while for her to show Val that she’s interested in her. After a few months, she took her time to visit her lab and observe her work, and to psychoanalyze her 👁️.

“I could convince her to work for me.”

“Oh, unlike other humans, she’s not boring.”

Ombra began initiating conversations with her 👁️. And THEN went like, “I like this one.”

And THEN Val became the love of her life ^_^)/

Falkus:

He has met many badass humans in his entire life, so when he met Val for the first time, he was just feeling neutral. But he vibes with her. I imagine Val and him would just joke around and be two idiots together ( if Val is willing to). BUT then:

Falkus: “Valerie is a strong soldier. We can use her as a weapon. I know you’re thinking the same.”

Ombra (before catching feelings): “Yes. She can be pretty useful.”

Ombra (after catching feelings): “No. I won’t let you do that.”

Falkus: “Fuck off.”

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐑

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a soft day on the beach for a swordsman and mermaid. they're really not as odd a pair as they sound.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zoro x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: mermaid!reader, continuation of this fic, fluffy shenanigans, requested

Having a human boyfriend wasn’t as hopelessly romantic as the girls in your pod made it out to be. Sure, the idea of star-crossed love was appealing, and the physical nature of human boys was certainly something to admire. But really, you didn't care much for human men in the carnal sense—Zoro was your exception.

Usually, you were nothing but doting on him, flaws and all, and he did the same for you. The pair of you slouched together, brooded together, gossiped together, napped together. You both wore the other’s sensual markings dotting your skin with pride, flaunting them even.

But sometimes, tensions do rise.

You watched as Nami and Robin headed down from the ship to the sandy beach down below, wanting nothing more than to join them, but you would find it much more enjoyable if your swordsman joined you. But all Zoro wanted to do was sleep.

You stood over him, fangs peeking out as you bit your lip. “Everyone’s gone down to the beach.”

He grunted in reply, eyes shut contently. Narrowing your eyes, you stepped sideward and let the rays of sun you’d been blocking hit his face. Zoro contorted uncomfortably, blinking up at you. “Huh?”

“I’d like to swim with you,” you stated simply. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun.”

He rolled his eyes and shifted away from the sun. “Hard pass.”

The deck went dangerously silent aside from the far off sounds of the sea, so he wasn’t all too shocked to crack one eye open and find you fuming over him. “Something wrong?”

“Yes!” You huffed and crossed your arms. “My boyfriend won’t swim with me, his beautiful, amazing, awesome mermaid girlfriend.”

He gave you a single sigh, and you knew you had him hook, line, and sinker. A pleasant smile spread over your face as Zoro heaved himself to his feet, barley sparing you a glance even as he slung an arm around your shoulder. He sported a scant grin, so he wasn’t too frustrated. “Can we go on a walk after?”

“Oh, so now you’re contributing?” You nuzzled into his side and stepped onto the soft sand. “Yeah, we can go on a walk.”

Zoro’s cheeks dusted pink, chin ducked like he wasn’t a big romantic under all that muscle. But you knew the truth, even when Sanji pleaded with you to see sense and leave the mossheaded swordsman. Like you’d ever listen to the stupid cook anyway.

“Thanks,” you murmured into his skin, kissing his hand draped on your shoulder. “I could’ve gone without you, but I didn’t want to.”

Your bluntness always warmed his heart, even when your words came out less than tender as they just did. He kissed your temple briefly, Zoro’s attention caught by Luffy and Usopp splashing each other in knee deep water. A bright laugh left you and you were gone, fleeing his side to bound into the ocean. Ten seconds later, you yelped, falling head first into the lapping waves, a vibrant tail flipping up where your feet should be.

Chuckling after you, Zoro waded in to just below his knees, arms folded over his chest. Your soaked form floated through the shallows, arms gliding your way through. He watched with amusement as your ducked underwater and raced at Usopp’s legs, clamping your hands around his ankles and sending the poor guy leaping back to the beach. That’s when he bellowed out a laugh. Your eyes darted to find him in an instant, warmth spreading from fin to face as his smile consumed you whole. 

Laugh fading, Zoro’s eyes fluttered open to your hot-cold gaze. You always bit at him harshly when he said you’re an open book, but it’s the truth—Zoro loved being able to tell what you’re thinking, never having to make complex deductions like he often does with everyone else. And though it made his skin feel warm and tight, he could see now exactly the depth of what you felt for him. Something in that was immensely assuring. 

He shed his shirt in one motion, hurling it back on the sand and trudging to meet you in deeper water. Standing over you, he let slip a warmer smirk than usual. Your eyes peeked up over the water, smile warped below the surface. The water lapped at Zoro’s chest as your hands reached for his shoulders, and you dragged yourself up in his body to hang off his neck, nose inches away from his own.

“Hey, sailor,” you giggled. 

He huffed a laugh. “Hey, fish.”

You swept your tail around his legs, curling around his limbs till he nearly toppled over, your lips a stiff line. “Careful, Zoro-Mine.” 

His eyes took on a darker tone, the name you’d gifted him some months ago capturing his attention wholly. Zoro nosed at your cheek, humming softly. “Walk?”

“I’ve barely cooled off!” You snorted, pushing his face away as you slipped right through his arms, ducking underwater and darting off before his hands could catch you. You emerged at Nami’s side, scaring her out of her skin, a laugh stifled by your pruning fingertips. 

Maybe an hour rolled off your shoulders before you scanned the area for your swordsman, finding him sitting atop the powdery sand with his eyes set on the horizon. Zoro practically glared at the sky, so much so that he didn’t notice you dragging yourself up the shore till your soft grunts of effort met his ears. Jolting to attention, Zoro reached to scoop under your arms and pulled you closer, resting you between his legs. He leaned his head on your temple, your body melting into him as his warmth spread to your cold skin.

“Ready?” he mumbled. You nodded gently, and when the sun dried out your scales and made them retreat into your skin, Zoro clutched your hand to alieve that familiar sting all through your body. Your tail parted down the middle and formed two ever-awkward legs. By some ancient magic neither of you understood, your clothes sparkled to existence along your skin. 

Zoro gripped your hands and rocketed you off the ground, relishing in the little laugh you gave when you landed on your feet. You called over your shoulder absently mindedly, not entirely caring if the others heard you, eyes fixated on Zoro alone. “We’ll be back before dark!”

You faintly heard Nami’s, “Yeah right,” before you led Zoro into the forest with a slight skip.

Having a human boyfriend could be exciting at times. Zoro never frowned at your questions, always ready with a reply whether he really knew the answer or not. He could toss you over his shoulder and race you through the trees (and somehow you always win despite your fawn-like legs). 

You just broke through another low-hanging branch when Zoro caught your hand, swinging you around into his chest. Bubbling laughter, you flashed a fanged smile up at him, gaze swallowing him whole. Zoro traced your cheek with a fingertip, simply admiring your expression as it softened into one of blissful content. 

With a shake of his head and a gentle grin, Zoro slung his arm over your shoulder and started to walk back to the beach. “Let’s just walk back, yeah? I don’t have the energy to lose another race.”

You chuckled into his shoulder. “Sure. I don’t care to win anymore anyways.”

(The fact that he always let you win hung in the air, unspoken and tender on your heart).

Time slipped right through your hands, and soon enough the sun dipped below the treeline up above. You watched it disappear through the dense branches. “Nami was right. We’re gonna be late.”

Zoro’s shrug shook your body. “She’s usually right, but she doesn’t need to know that.”

“So… we should stay out all night to scare her instead?” He cast you a smile. “Read my mind.”

Having a human boyfriend could be annoying too, sure. At times their kind perplexed you, turning you around till you didn't know left from right. Yet the only ones who held you steady were on that crew--Zoro's crew.

Zoro was human, and he couldn't help it, and you found yourself caring less and less with every day that went by, till he was no longer your human boyfriend, but simply Zoro-Mine, who happened to be human.

And with every day that passed, you lost the title of mermaid girlfriend in his mind as well, and became only yourself, who happened to sprout a tail when he took you up in his arms, ran out to the moonlit ocean, and tossed you squealing back into the waves.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s @murnsondock

[malleleothreesome]

Fellow Honest Drunken Confession Feat. Playful Land Cast

(Ch.1 & Ch.2)

🌟 summary: Rewriting the end of Playful Land event where instead of Fellow Honest running away, he tries to convince you and your classmates to go out drinking with him. Cause he's super into you. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW so far (undecided on the end), fluff, romance. This is a slice of life comedy. You're just gonna have to go into it blind. Take my word for it. You're gonna love it. If you don't, don't tell me. All characters assumed to be of legal drinking age besides Gidel. ༶༶༶ 🌟 inspired by: this ask from @omo-kitty thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

🌟 song: Trust Fund "Oh, where, oh, where is my trust fund? Why can't I get ahead? 'Cause I have to work My daddy's such a jerk For not givin' me all his cash" ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 4.7k

Fellow Honest lets out an exasperated sigh, perched next to you and your classmates as the massive cruise ship that housed Playfulland amusement park sinks into the ocean’s abyss. With his hands clasped behind his head, a carefree grin lights up his face. 

"You know what?" He asks, turning to you. 

His fox ears twitch atop his head as a salty breeze sifts through his orange hair. Night was encroaching, a half moon suspended in the starry sky, pale and glowing. You stare back into his face, noting the visible points of his fangs, and the tip of his curly orange tail swishing happily. 

Fellow winks as he laughs his signature haughty cackle. "Do you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Ace Trappola perks up at the mention of alcohol and barrels forward, face beaming with naivety. "Hey, free drinks? You're talking to the right person, Man. You gonna let us drink free? I mean, it's like, the least you could do for trying to traffic us, am I right?" 

Trey Clover hisses, “Ace!!!” in a desperate (and failed) attempt to shut him up. 

Fellow regards the spectacle with the blankest of stares, his ear flicking as a whisper of a wince flickers across his visage.

The monster of a man tilts his head and smiles slyly to you—and only you. 

His eyes sweep you up and down as he croons, "just you and me, Hot Stuff. We're talking romantic, steamy even. We’re connected… don't deny it. Whaddaya say?" 

Fellow steps closer, tongue running along his canines as he looks you up and down with a cheeky grin and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You, me, alone, drinking, talking... I'll be real good to you—I'm an honest guy! All my business is legit now!" 

He throws his head back, and with a flourish of his arms, roars with a particularly raucous laughter. Upon composing himself, his piercing orange eyes turn sharp, and he flashes you another lecherous look. A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, an eyebrow rises suggestively. Fellow leans to whisper in your ear, lingering in the electricity of your aura a bit too long before speaking. You shiver. 

His voice drops to a low, suggestive purr as hot breath grazes your neck, "but, if you like, a little bit naughty ain't out of the question... "

Before you can respond, Ace—unable to be subdued by Trey—makes his way back over and elbows you in the arm. As clueless as ever, his freckled cheeks flush bright pink from excitement. 

"Free drinks, Bro! He's an underworld mobster, Dude—a high ranking one—we'll be VIPs anywhere we go. We’ll be sipping absolute top shelf… not that gross, warm piss from a barrel everyone else gets!" 

Ace is giving the performance of his lifetime, gripping his heart and holding out his arms in utter theatrics, then leaning heavily on your shoulder. 

"Free… top shelf… liquor!" Ace shouts to the rest of your classmates, waving them over.

Fellow's eyebrow elevates further, threatening to leave the confines of his forehead. His eyes remain dead, cold. His tail, for once, stays perfectly still, frozen in an upright arch. When his lips part in a rigid smile and his shoulders begin to shake, a venomous displeasure radiates from him, palpable enough for you to feel on your own skin. Out of his mouth spills a jumble of fragmented curse words and giggles. You look at him in mild alarm, unsure if he has finally reached a state of losing his goddamn mind, or if he's about to commit a violent murder—starting with Ace.

Fellow holds up both gloved palms, covering his face. Slowly shaking his head, he doubles over, wiping away tears of hysteria in an uproarious guffaw. You are stunned, staring as Fellow wheezes and struggles to get ahold of his faculties. 

Catching his breath, he throws back his head and bellows with unrestrained joy, "The sheer audacity! The unmitigated gumption of this fool—oh my GOD.”

In a valiant effort to calm himself, he holds up his hands, as if praying, a wicked grin plastered across his face. Ace squints suspiciously at his antics, still totally clueless to Fellow's intent. Trey shakes his head slowly, rubbing his face in abject defeat, looking as if he's willing his brain to purge the trauma of ever coming to this place. 

Fellow breathes deeply. "Sorry, sorry, it's just funny, oh my God. Wow. He has some balls on him, I'll give him that! I really admire the gall. You know what? This brat might have a career in the biz." The fox beastman reaches out and condescendingly ruffles Ace's head of red hair.

"Alright, tough guy. Yeah, let's go get boozed. And hey, little Bastard—" his fiendish grin takes a more sinister tone, fangs slightly exposed. "Just so you know, if your pathetic college didn't send that sweetheart…” He winks suggestively at you, before his eyes wander across the crowd of students, utterly unimpressed, “I'd never be letting any of you idiots go. No way! I’d have dragged each of you back to my boss by force. Don't test my generosity or my kindness." 

Smirking, he shoves his finger into Ace's face, leaning towards him with intent to intimidate.

Fellow takes a sharp inhale and clasps his hands shut. "Now, just for fun, let's get liquored up on the highest rooftop bar, play some poker, do a little dancing..." His eyes flit back over to you— "...maybe some smooches, hey?" A foxy yip punctuates his sentence. His eyes return back to Ace, whose lips are pressed in a firm, disapproving line. Fellow's eyebrow twitches with delight as he takes in Ace's defiance, biting his lip for a second so as not to cackle.

"There isn't going to be any 'VIP treatment,' 'free drinks,’ or 'top shelf.' Is that clear? Who do you think I am? You think I like doing that type of shit?" 

He points to the water, gesturing to the decimated remnants of the amusement park. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Kid, people don't do those types of jobs because they're loaded.” 

He leans down to get eye level with Ace, using expressive jazz hands and a pompous voice. “'Oh, man, my yacht's all paid off and ready, better become a goddamn kidnapping organ trafficker—oh, the glamor! The luxury!' Do you understand what I'm saying, you dinky little shit?"

You can't help it—you burst out laughing. His grin returns full force, and he winks at you knowingly. He looks back to your classmates, and you consider his movements. The pure self-assurance in his stride, his careless and brazen attitude, his cheeky cockiness—intricate pieces of exactly what drew you to him initially. While his irreverence for any societal construct has both scared and enamored you, the sheer madness he exhibits on a regular basis is so addictive. How could you deny a guy with this level of audacity? You really, really want to give it a whirl—experiment with what might be if you throw caution to the wind.

His smile grows, noting the chagrin across your classmate's faces. Fellow gestures dramatically once more, his gloved hands clawing through the air, his gesticulations growing increasingly overzealous as he waxes poetic on the harsh realities of adult life. 

"So, listen up. Listen very carefully. Picture this: I'm poor. I'm scrappy. I was homeless. I don't even own the suit you're seeing right now! My clothes are stolen off the street." His expression darkens, ears and tail drooping, shoulders slumped, and head lowered. For a fleeting, transitory instant, there's an indiscernible emotion that flickers through his eyes—something genuine that betrays his frivolity. "That boy is the only family I have, and we've got nothing to our name."

He stares forward at something only he can see, his gaze boring a hole into the horizon. It is a wistful, haunted gaze, a longing and lost memory in his eyes, a sad sigh that drifts on a gentle summer breeze, lost within its dreams. "Not a single thing. Just the two of us, struggling and barely making ends meet, scraping by in this horrible, unforgiving, greedy world that cares not for the innocent and goodhearted folk. We need to be greedy. Selfish, if we want to keep each other safe. So, excuse me for being just a tad on the offensive side, you entitled fucking brats! I had to be the strongest so I could support the both of us. You truly know nothing about suffering—this isn't a pretty life to have and it isn't fair, yet, what can you do? Adapt, or die. There is no romanticism about hunger, about living like animals, constantly scrambling for scraps of food like the world is a bottomless garbage can and you are its filthiest dog." The sardonic chuckle he gives isn't unkind, merely tinged with bittersweet longing. You reach a hand out, resting it on his shoulder, and his fingers close over it with a soft caress.

There's a touch of vulnerability in his eyes, and his words strike a cord that resonates deeply within your soul. Though it hurts and grieves you, his explanation was enough for you—a starting point of understanding, as you accept him exactly for who he is. You see beyond the facade—the sheer intensity of the desperation that underlines his words and actions, that hollowness within him that yearns for more than the world can provide. 

Fellow seemed to awaken with greater purpose when you looked into his soul and told him he didn't have to do bad things. Something shifts in his eyes as he considers new paths. You see the stitches holding his tattered spirit together loosen slightly, revealing glimpses of his raw wounds, the aches and scars that he buries with sarcasm and callousness. His vibrant, intelligent, playful nature deserves more—his life isn't meant to be wasted, yet he feels as if that's precisely what he has done, resigning himself to this existence of bitter hatred against the world. When you meet his gaze, you feel a tenderness blooming in the chilly winter frost of his chest, like the first glimpse of spring. At last, you can sense the farce crumble, and the real Fellow taking shape underneath. You wish you could spend the rest of the evening talking to him. 

Fellow's fingers remain intertwined with yours as the moment passes and his flirtation returns. There is an uncanny ease with which the man is able to keep his expression blank while swapping personalities, as if each identity is a costume he wears as long as it suits him. A fleeting look of sadness drifts over him before being replaced by his cheeky, foxy smirk. He reasserts the cocky, irreverent demeanor—his favorite cloak. His orange eyes flit towards yours before gazing into the crowd of your classmates. You squeeze his palm reassuringly, and he beams down at you with gratitude. His finger swipes across your cheek, gently brushing it.

Fellow smiles his carefree smile, but there's a warmth and gentleness behind his orange gaze now. 

"All that being said,'' the beastman claps his hands together, grinning widely and putting on another showman's performance, "I bet I could do a little persuading to get us some free booze. We're going drinking, my new friends!" He throws his hands up jovially. 

A chorus of voices in front of him ring out in dissonance at the thought, except for Ace—who is whooping and hollering triumphantly, and Kalim, who is cheering in earnest. Before the rest of your classmates have time to voice their objections, Fellow shouts out, pointing at everyone, a finger dramatically extending in the air.

"Ah, ah ah—none of your whining and sniveling bullshit, you snot-nosed punklings. We're all getting our rocks off tonight and it's on me. Consider this the apology tour for almost making you all... well, go into involuntary servitude, to put it lightly." 

The corner of his lips twitch as his orange eyes scan the crowd for recognition, yet remain friendly despite his teasing. 

"Besides, a celebration is due! What I learned tonight was so startling to me—I did not foresee myself going down an honest path, a career in helping the helpless. This is truly life-altering, and it's all thanks to you folks." 

Another moment of vulnerability flickers in his eyes and his mouth is slack, letting the raw honesty and realization of change settle. A stunned silence from the crowd ensues.

Flailing his arms wildly to keep up and air of lightheartedness, Fellow huffs, the first signs of exertion finally showing. He was beaten up pretty badly while trying to detain your classmates, after all. He continues his pitch. 

"Of course, no hard feelings or anything. Just a nice fun night, free drinks, music, laughter—how could any of you possibly turn down such a gift?" 

With a grin and a gesture to the amusement park's busted entrance gate, he declares his final verdict. 

"It is your final day off before a lifetime of school, study, stress and commitment to society—your youth is ending, friends. Embrace this wonderful last sunset of freedom—because by tomorrow, we will all be under the yoke of labor, spending our lives slaving away to pay rent while we deal with taxes and the true horror of capitalism! At least, those without trust funds, right? Hah." 

Once more, your classmates all clamor with protests. 

"Like Hell I’m goin’ out drinking with that guy! Don't take orders from that shady jackass," Leona roars through the crowd.

Fellow’s scowls, tail swishing vehemently back and forth. 

"Ya just met him yesterday and he was about to sell us all off! Does a sociopath's Nice Guy act not make you the least bit suspicious or even nervous? Don't fall for it. No one's that forgivin' or stupid." Leona stares coldly at the conman with an indignant sniff as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Vil stands with his arms crossed as well, but his posture and expression exude boredom as he blows out an annoyed exhale, visibly judging his idiot classmates. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with Leona once again," he chimes in, ignoring the aggravated huff from the Savanaclaw dorm leader. "Our kidnapper is insistent on buying us drinks? Who does that?! Clearly, this guy has something up his sleeve." Vil clicks his tongue derisively, and flicks his purple hair over his shoulder in dismission.

Floyd, ignoring the forewarnings entirely, throws his arms up happily. He bellows, "hell yeah! What's better than a night of heavy partying to lighten up the mood, right? Bring it on. There's alcohol involved? It’s free? I’m in." He giggles maniacally, wrapping an arm around Fellow to pull him in for an enthusiastic noogie (and completely ignoring the pained squeaks coming out of the conman's mouth). Floyd’s twin brother, Jade, grins in agreement to the proposal.

Trey adjusts his glasses nervously, brows knitting and mouth stuck in a grimace. He opens mouth and closes his mouth a few times before suggesting, with trepidation, “it is... quite unusual for him to take us out drinking all of a sudden... are we sure this isn't some sort of trap, or a game, or—"

Trey is cut off by a loud groan from Ace. "Weren't you guys paying attention?!" Ace shakes his head rapidly and scoffs with derision. "He's obviously trying to get into Y/n's pants! The guy's totally thirsty! How are you not seeing this? He was checking Y/n out when he was doing all that crazy shit in the amusement park." 

A tense moment of silence falls across your class as they turn their heads towards you, eyeing you with surprise. "He's been hitting on the prefect this entire time! His weird-ass obsession is for real—no joke or scam. He's interested, I know it when I see it. He knows Y/n's not gonna go unless he takes all of us. So, like... yes, of course I'm into free beer!" 

Ace's red eyes gleam like he's just discovered the polio vaccine, proud of his insightfulness and intellect. The other students look back and forth between you and the notorious criminal fox beastman, noting his nonplussed smirk, calm tail wagging, and the way in which his ears prick up in excitement at the conversation about you.

Another uncomfortable moment passes. Your cheeks feel warm, knowing everyone's eyes are still on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them. 

Kalim claps his hands together and chirps, "oh yeah, come to think of it, he does seem like he's super fond of you! All his cute talk and that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at you and listens to your every word—he clearly really, really likes you, Y/n! That's totally awesome you found someone special in such a dark place!" 

Kalim is—almost comically—unaffected by Fellow's unsavory reputation. "And isn't it great if he's truly starting down a righteous path instead of being a bad criminal who hurts and steals from people? We've got to support him, this could be his fresh start! We're his friends, and that's what friends are for—they help each other out. We'll save him from evil!" 

Kalim is positively beaming now, his energy infectiously reassuring and radiant. "I’m looking forward to a fun night, count me in!" 

Leona scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut before looking into the distance. It’s as if his consciousness has departed, from the sheer idiocy of this conversation. 

“How much has that fuckin' clown got you brainwashed already to make you spout such delusions of grandeur?!" He gapes at Kalim's relentless positivity. "C'mon Jack, we're goin' back. They can handle themselves." Without a backward glance, he walks away, trusting that the freshman will follow suit.

With a short sigh of resignation and a brief incline of his head, Jack follows along in his dorm leader's wake. "Sorry, guys," he murmurs. "I gotta agree with my Housewarden. Something doesn't feel right. Hope to see you all later." The wolf man turns his back and trots to catch up with Leona.

Fellow wears an indecipherable expression as he watches them leave. The muscles around his eye twitch slightly and an ear has flattened against his hair in annoyance. Though Fellow is doing his level best to remain unaffected by the sour reactions, a tiny tendril of disappointment wavers briefly over his features. His resolve steels, yet he keeps his smile, resolutely ignoring their mutterings as his fox tail sweeps side to side. His body language remains relatively casual and open, save for a subtle defensive set in his posture and shoulders. He stands a little taller in an attempt to maintain his cool.

Vil scoffs and walks over to the gate, holding up his perfectly manicured hands in mock surrender. "There's no amount of liquor on the planet worth suffering his disgusting presence or getting tangled in whatever diabolic schemes he's attempting. He's a repugnant vagabond with nothing but deceit and manipulation oozing from his vile, malicious tongue. Y/n, you can do far better—really, anyone with a proper background and education instead of someone from the fringes of society who can't even feed himself." 

With a flip of his hair, Vil sniffs dismissively. He gives you one last look of disapproval before strolling away in search of a less irritating place to be.

Ace begins to panic, feeling his chance at free drinks slipping through his fingers. "Wai- Wait- wait, WAIT—everybody STOP," Ace frantically exclaims in desperation. "Come back, you can't just leave! Come on! There’s free alcohol at stake here! Please?! Dammit. UGH!" 

Vil's words seemed to hit home. Fellow's unbreakable poker face crumbles as his ears pull down flat against his scalp. His tail stiffens, lowering between his legs in utter humiliation. The fox beastman swallows thickly as the tides of his happiness drain. Gidel scurries up to Fellow and places a hand gently on his back to console his guardian. Fellow tries to plaster a makeshift grin back on, but his pain bleeds through, brow furrowed and eyes darting, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

Ace blinks and smiles awkwardly before muttering, "Well, now I actually feel pretty bad." His freckled face reddens slightly, cheeks taking on a darker tinge of rose as the color creeps out to his ears. A soft, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his mouth. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, clearly caught somewhere between guilt and shame—internal conflict is evident. 

Despite all the flippant, disrespectful comments, teasing and general disregard Ace has shown Fellow, this complete and public emotional breakdown appears to hit Ace harder than he'd care to admit, and perhaps—just maybe—a faint sense of kinship forms at the connection he sees between himself and the conman. Two jovial and clownish individuals—born entertainers. Suddenly, this moment strikes Ace more so than anything else Fellow has said or done thus far, leaving the redhead oddly touched. It’s as if his own heart was personally struck by the kind, selfless soul Fellow seems to be deep down, no matter how hard the foxman tries to keep it buried.

"Listen, man," Ace smiles shyly, shifting from foot to foot with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. "You know, even if nobody else says it, I, uh... Well... If you're going straight," Ace chuckles, clearing his throat, "like you say, then you're pretty cool. Besides, all your antics are pretty funny. And... The way you really care for him..." Ace stares with admiration, nodding his head towards Gidel, voice low with reverence. His cheeks are completely red now, unable to formulate words, just awkwardly shuffling around trying to escape his own embarrassment. 

"You're a... a really good big brother. You know," He sputters, blinking and glancing to the side before slowly looking back at Fellow, and then you. "So... Just forget about Vil's stupid bullshit and move on. Because..." He pauses for a second before nodding assuredly, his confidence growing. "Because you've got plenty to give! It might not feel like it, and sometimes there will be a moment where all seems lost..."

You shake your head in disbelief. Had Ace just openly spoken words of wisdom? Such kind words, too—from him of all people! That, surely, is the sign of an actual miracle happening, since Ace, your dearest friend, is not typically one for… sincerity. ‘Shocking’ would be an understatement. Ace's friendly gaze causes Fellow's orange eyes to grow glassy. Your classmates, equally as stunned, stare at Ace in open astonishment.

Ace presses on with his impromptu speech, conveying the utmost sincerity, "You've got to be strong and push past your misfortune, and not allow yourself to think you're not worthy of love or care." His smile grows warmer and he turns his face to you, making brief eye contact before casting his gaze back towards Fellow. "I just know that somewhere out there, a happy life awaits you... and maybe... there's someone wonderful to share it with."

Now why would Ace allude to you when you haven't even decided your feelings yet? You quickly turn around to conceal the rising flush in your cheeks. You’re somewhere between mortified and thrilled for Ace to publicly express his support of your romance. Nerves flood your stomach—the anticipation, the prospect of falling in love has made you equal parts anxious and giddy. A mixture of euphoria and despair hits you all at once—how beautiful to acknowledge your affections for the fox man—yet, can you commit?

You look over at Cater and mouth with abject horror: 'What the fuck is going on?'

Cater looks thoroughly entertained by the entire event, flashing you a thumbs up. He bites his lower lip, silently giggling to himself. He snaps a picture of you on his phone—the audacity.

Cater mouths back, “looks like someone has a cru-ush.” 

Your face displays all of your confusion. “Stop—shh—be serious, this is real,” you whisper, stifling a tiny, strained giggle and putting an end to the banter by sternly holding out your index finger.

This is too much—too fast—you feel helpless, swept up in the stormy waves of fate and romance. One single day has dragged on and on, as if stretched forever by the overwhelming events of your trip. Even Fellow's unexpected change of heart is but a fleeting part of some fever dream—it couldn’t have all been real. An insane whirlwind romance, a kidnapping, a deadly amusement park, and a desperate con artist—who you’ve become increasingly drawn to. This has been one of the strangest experiences of your entire life.

Glancing quickly over your shoulder, you catch Gidel grinning and bouncing happily, his eyes bright with energy, seemingly thrilled at the idea of you and Fellow becoming partners. His excitement is contagious, and it only adds fuel to the fire in your heart. To know the little boy holds high hopes for the two of you—maybe something is already blooming? Blood pounds in your veins and a tightness builds in your chest, causing your heartbeat to drum ever faster as Fellow takes a step toward you.

He gently turns you to face him. His grip is strong, yet soft. A twinge of hope tugs at the corners of his lips, though his posture betrays his vulnerability and fear of rejection. His interest in you is palpable, and the seriousness of the impending moment makes you want to run away. As hesitant as you are to admit it, you definitely feel a connection to this man—one beyond lust. A deeper bond transcends physical attraction, as if your hearts are bound, stitched with a million red puppet strings of fate. With each pump of blood, another thread pulls taut, drawing the two of you closer together.

You're nervous, embarrassed, and entirely unsure of what you want. In an attempt to stall, you address your remaining classmates. "Well, I sure could use a drink right now! How about it?" Slight panic italicizes your statement.

Ace raises his hands in the air with triumph. "Fuck yeah," he laughs, looking around eagerly. Cater looks relieved to have the perfect excuse to drink a ridiculous amount of booze without getting nagged by Riddle for acting inappropriate. Trey sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a strained manner, as if resisting another stress-related aneurysm. He nods with resignation that he won't be back at Heartslabyul any time soon, committing himself to making sure none of the trouble-making underclassmen get up to their usual antics of havoc, mayhem and chaos. You catch Trey mutter, "I will definitely regret this," to himself, but you still allow a surge of gratitude wash over your anxious heart at his kind gesture.

Lilia's laughter rings out, the night breeze sweeping back his hair to reveal a playful grin. "The Pop Music Club is always down for a fun time. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to show Kalim and Cater how to really party! Oh, what a splendid evening this will be," he gleams, patting his clubmates heartily on the shoulders. They both gulp, nervous about his declaration.

The gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean catches Lilia's irises in a breathtaking display of shimmering crimson. In a flash, he materializes in front of Fellow, nearly scaring the poor fox out of his skin. Lilia's lips are curled in a wide, sly smile and he stares deep into his soul. 

After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, stepping forward and speaking conspiratorially. "But tell me the truth. What really is the score on this entire set-up?" The sinister, terrifying nature Lilia exhibits makes Fellow's ears tremble and tail swish madly in defense, eyes large and alert. Fellow lets out a nervous yelp, frozen as the staring contest commences. After what appears to be some type of mental standoff, the vampire's demeanor eases. 

Lilia puts a comforting arm around Fellow and hugs him to his side, eyes glowing brighter. "Ah, young love! So fun to watch! You two have my blessing," Lilia beams at the stupefied Fellow, whose ears still lay flat against his scalp in terror. His tail is tucked tightly between his legs in an act of submission, a concession of defeat.

With that, your classmates trail out of the boardwalk, away from the ruins of the defunct Amusement Park. Their loud banter fills the night air, a jovial cacophony of nonsense and delirium. Fellow places one hand between Gidel's shoulder blades to gently guide him along, and he extends his other to you, silently inviting you to interlace your fingers with his. His expression is relaxed and expectant—but his eyes show his nerves. His smooth, gloved palm envelops your hand and together, the three of you follow your classmates.

🌟 song: Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 1.8k

The dark streets of the city are lit in an amber glow from the many shops that stay open late, with neon signs boasting special deals and hot food creating a gorgeous rainbow of flashing colors in the night. Bustling crowds move briskly, pouring in from all directions. They mill around, eager to engage in the nightlife of the entertainment district, excited to partake in their desired sins. You follow a group of partygoers through an arching entranceway that has the phrase 'Hell's Den' lit above the metalwork in garish crimson lights. Passing underneath the grand entrance and entering the gaudy exterior is another world of sound, color and light—a vibrancy not meant for the meek. The entirety of the complex is covered with glowing tiles, casting a radiant aura in such a dazzling fashion it reminds you of a place in your home world: Las Vegas.

Welcoming aromas of cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne, and the buzzing, neon atmosphere draws a content sigh from Fellow. The wide array of faces passing by—all of them new and shining with happiness, seeking to escape their own respective realities. There is something inspiring about this bustling den of iniquity. The electricity that percolates within the underground is like a shot of adrenalin. It's pure magic. It is no wonder all of this serves as an irresistible lure for those craving freedom. In this night-city, any sinner can find solace.

As you pass the main foyer of Hell's Den, an enormous set of double doors lies ahead. Three large, burly bouncers loiter at the entrance and peer closely at you all.

"Now what do we have here?" the bouncer booms, zeroing in on Gidel. The bouncer points towards the kid, accusatory. "Ain't he a little young for this joint?"

All heads turn towards Gidel, who stands proud and fearless in the face of these mountainous men. While most everyone else shifts nervously, Gidel plants his little hands on his hips and looks up at the bouncers unabashed, pursing his lips in an indignant pout and giving an extra little sassy bob of his head. He stands his ground with the cold, fierce and commanding presence of someone much older. The way his stance radiates authority, even in the face of danger, is both admirable and comical. The usual slouching and youthfulness of his mannerisms and body language are totally eradicated as the imperious stare he fixes on the bouncers bears down. Gidel is a fearless soldier—a fiercely determined, stalwart pillar in the face of adversity, daring the guards to deny him passage.

"You wound me, good sir," Fellow puts a gloved hand to his heart in a mock sign of hurt. "Of course, he is of drinking age. How insulting!" He levels them with his withering orange gaze. The muscle men shift uneasily at his silent challenge—the cocky facade is his customary tactic for warding off hostilities before they could grow and take root. "This here," he grabs the glowering Gidel, patting the child proudly on the head, "is the eldest of our party." The bouncers look at each other, then at the boy, then back to Fellow. The sheer absurdity of Fellow's statement is undeniable—no reasonable person would buy it.

Fellow goes on. "Cater, are you seeing this shit? Discrimination, in this day and age? Put these nitwits on blast," Fellow gestures to Cater's phone, and Cater begins filming. Gidel points aggressively at the bouncer, shaking his little index finger with the might of his wrath, as Fellow declares loudly, "I want everyone to know—this place is not welcome to those of different social stations, based on age or appearance. This is preposterous!" He turns his attention back to the bouncers, widening his arms to the gathering crowd.

"Bigotry, ageism, it's so awful! No wonder Gidel hides the fact that he's over 2,000 years old. Now I see why the man refuses to share the wisdom he's collected, the amazing anecdotes and experiences, and the undeniable brilliance he could impart upon the world—instead, he hides, ashamed, all due to the abuse he receives on a daily basis from these types of buffoons!" 

The surrounding individuals stare in stunned silence. "It's not Gidel who is the child here, but all of you. People should not be judged so harshly due to their appearance. Everyone should be accepted—their ideas, actions, and experiences embraced with respect, despite physical differences that set them apart. Everyone must be loved and appreciated, for there are precious gems everywhere we look in this beautiful world. The rich, diverse community of people who inhabit this planet should be able to share with all, learn from one another and work together in unity, free to be who they are without harassment!"

The neon light catches fresh tears running down various faces in the crowd. To add further insult to the bouncers’ injuries, Royal Sword Academy's Seven Dwarves—who happened to be waiting to get into the same bar—stare daggers at the gatekeepers and gather near Gidel in solidarity. Their angry, diminutive stature radiates powerful force when unified against a common enemy—it is truly a frightening sight to behold.

In one single swoop, Fellow swings public opinion in Gidel’s favor, inciting rage to right the wrong. The fervor of the crowd continues to rise. "Please, show our precious elder the respect he deserves. Do not look at him and see a mere child—look into his eyes to the aged visage beneath." His orange gaze bores into the guards. "Can you not sense his inner radiance, the power and splendor of his soul, and the treasures locked away within? Don't allow your prejudices and expectations to hold him back. Or you, for that matter. The sheer fact of his youthful appearance is no obstacle to greatness! And as long as you carry this narrow-minded sentiment, you will forever be barred from ever knowing the greatest secrets of the universe. Remember, folks! In the end, it isn't your status, money, or popularity that ultimately leads to a better future! It's our kindness, compassion, and tolerance." The conman punctuates his powerful speech with a satisfied swish of his fluffy tail, and the crowd cheers wildly in approval.

Cater is eating this up. His thumbs frantically type out a lengthy post that ends with his signature sparkling diamond hashtags, creating the most glorious online discourse. 

Trey is lost in thought, muttering to himself, "he does have the right idea, maybe he'd make a good Headmage after all." 

Kalim stares intently, with a faraway gleam in his eye, utterly entranced by Fellow. He’s just about ready to sign up for a personal tutoring session on the topic of the Universal Principles. 

The rest of your classmates have the most deadpan expression on their faces, looking at each other and silently communicating how deeply uninterested they all are at witnessing this bizarre, disturbing spectacle for the umpteenth time.

The guards can’t hide their bewilderment, and they reluctantly backpedal to let your group inside. You and Cater share a mischievous smile, impressed at Fellow's antics. 

Your devious fox pulls you flush to his body, ushering you into the club with a sly wink. "Shall we, dearest Y/n? Let’s make our debut, hmm?" He smirks in the direction of his brother as he spins you around, all while moving backwards into the bar. He bows deeply and gestures elegantly, indicating you should head inside first. You can't help giggling, covering your mouth to conceal the toothy grin that betrays your giddiness as you make your way inside. His eyes travel up and down your frame, marveling at your swaying hips, devouring every curve. His suggestive tongue wets his bottom lip before he bites it, fangs now visible. You're almost ashamed of how attracted you are to him.

Your classmates follow like ducklings trailing a parent, curious to see where the night will take them and if any of it will be blackmail-worthy. How amusing. They muffle laughter at Fellow's narcissistic flamboyance and over-exaggerated antics, taking note of every ridiculous attempt to woo you. A few pretend to gag, exchanging distressed, strained expressions—a theatrical attempt to shove down the raw, unbridled horror they feel at the thought of having to live through another performance of the clown show.

You're not even sure if he wears a persona—a true entertainer, for the thrill of it all—or if he's trying on sincerity for once. You suspect he's a walking caricature of his own making. Even so, the raw energy and manicured showmanship are alluring. His penchant for high-pitched laughter and dramatized emotion adds levity to an otherwise dark situation—something about it really tickles you. His potentially-feigned amusement lights up his impossibly expressive face in a manner that is genuinely contagious.

Slowly taking in your surroundings, your mouth falls slightly open. This was no ordinary dive bar—this was a full on club. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, dispersing kaleidoscopic beams of color and light throughout the space. The rhythm throbs, perfectly synced with the strobe—each flash of luminescence reveals a slightly new scene. Sweaty bodies bend and sway to the thumping, seductive beat—you’re so ready to join them. Every face around you morphs into carefree bliss. From behind you, Fellow's presence is electrifying, playfully tracing his fingertips across the curve of your lower back as he leads you to the bar. His hand lightly smacks your ass, as if in approval, and your face warms. The effervescent air and residual excitement of escaping death creates an aphrodisiac unlike anything you’ve experienced. The pulsing bass, Fellow's slightly-territorial hand on your hip, and his sensual gaze makes your heart thump erratically. An aching want—no, need—simmers beneath your skin.

"May I get you a drink?" 

Fellow's soft words pull you from your daze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes appraises your dilated pupils. His toothy grin widens. 

"You prefer sweet, don’t you? I know just the thing." 

He studies you lasciviously. 

"Freshly-squeezed juices and top shelf liqueurs always do the trick. I just love the taste of cherries." 

He brings his hand up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers hovering over the shell of your ear before landing around a stray tendril of hair. He twirls the silky strand between his gloved fingers and tucks it gently behind your ear. Tantalizing.

"Yes, please. That sounds delicious."

You giggle nervously, unable to break eye contact. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were—the bottom pout most inviting. You hope he doesn't notice you gulp.

Somehow, the man's smile grows even bigger. He takes your hand in his, clasping it tightly and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft, chaste kiss. 

"Wait right here for me, won't you, my dear? I'll be back in a heartbeat." 

With a spin, he dances his way through the crowd towards the bartender, expertly navigating the chaos. You stand there dumbfounded, unable to keep the affection from blossoming in your chest; full, red, and so tight that you're afraid it might burst.

Hi, it's me again. Erica. The girl who said "my goal for 2024 is to spend the whole year writing!" Yeah. Sorry about that. Turns out that life sucks and writing is hard. I'm doing my best out here, though. I hope y'all enjoy this one! This shit really makes me laugh, so I hope you laughed too. If you want to create any art based on a scene from this, PLEASE do. I've already started working on chapter 3. I hope it won't take me forever to finish this story but, I'm really just taking my time with it. By "it" I mean, you know, getting to the whole point of this request, which is where Fellow Honest drunkenly confesses to you. But as you can see, we are going on a whole journey, here. I hope you love it! That's why I'm calling it a slice of life. I hope I get to talk to you all again really soon, in my next writing, which I hope... will be... soon. Love you all dearly, ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome. P.S. I'll be at Anime Expo at the beginning of July. Come say hi!

[druidwolf21]

As per the votes, here's some loving smut with everyone's fav space viking!

Leman Russ/F reader

Content warning-

sexual content

A bit of fluff

Homesickness

Saying I love you during sexy time???

@moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @lemon-russ @beckyninja @jaghatai-khock

Hope you like some sexy lovins

Words and meanings

Skitja- fenrisian curse

Volda Hamarrki- the mountain range of fenris

Skitnah-dirty/foul

Aett- clan hols/ heath fenrisian name for the fang

Stormurstjórn- stormcaller (I used this as a little pet name

Skíthof- another fenrisian curse

Gmorl-fate

The fire roared and blazed, spitting sparking embers across the marbled guard as you stared listlessly into the light. The book you had been reading hung limply from your hand as your eyes followed motes of flames dancing from one cindered log to another as it's warmth gently toasted your skin.

You allowed your eyes to wander from the embers to the room you sat in. Cold steel walls rising high above you, dispersed with woven tapestries of great battles and flickering oil torches. You sighed wistfully as your sight fell on a painting of a forest, trees frosted with diamond snow and silvered icicles, shadowy wolven figures dancing through the wood with amber eyes that seemed to glow.

You fisted the furs on the bed you had perched on as you threw the book aside and fell backwards, staring at the canopy above you, willing it to turn from soft cotton into the grey fenrisian sky. Squeezing your eyes shut and inhaling, you could almost smell the frozen sap, warm mjord and smelting iron that hung perpetually through the halls of the fang.

But home was a long way away and no matter how hard you willed it, upon opening your eyes, the dream of Asaheim faded into the distance. Your memory of warm meals and warmer company left a bitter taste in your mouth as you swept a hand across your face. Your thoughts were dragged back into the present by a wet nose against your thigh and a quiet whine.

Resigning yourself to your current situation, you drag yourself upright, smiling gently as you come face to face with golden eyes and a maw of teeth as long as Eldari daggers. Thick lines of spit coated each fang as the beast breathed heavily in your face before letting out another low whine.

You snorted and place a hand on the wolf's snout, playfully pushing it away.

""Skítja, fenki!" You curse "what have you been eating, your breath is worse than...well I don't know, but it's bad!"

You recoiled as your question got you a long, hot lick from your bare ankle to the top of your thigh. You hopped off the bed and rushed to an oaken dressing table, ripping a towel from a drawer and dragging it along your leg.

"you are so gross" you laugh lightly, dropping the towel and walking back over, pressing your face into warm fur and inhaling deeply.

"I guess you miss home too, huh?"

You nuzzled in deeper, wrapping your arms around the giant canine as far as you could, twisting your fingers through coarse fur and feeling the slow, steady rise and fall of it's chest.

"I promise, as soon as we can, we'll take you back home, back to Volda Hamarrki. Me, you, Russ and Geri, does that sound good?" You whispered, trying to stem tears before they fell

"we'll go back, away from this Skitnah ship, feel the snow under our feet again"

The tears flowed freely as you buried your face, gritting your teeth, willing them to stop as you fought to push the home sickness from your thoughts.

"Making plans for me, my little Stormurstjórn?"

You spun round, hair whipping around as you turned to face the owner of the deep voice that thrummed through you.

Lemans grin faltered as he saw your face, wet with tears, he threw down his thick cloak as he rushed over, dropping to a knee and cupping your face gently.

"my heart, what happened? why do you cry?" His face darkens and a snarl starts forming on his face, his hands and eyes gliding over you "did someone hurt you? If someone touched you I'll.."

You shake your head gently, looking into lemans icy blue eyes and smiling shyly.

"no my lord, I'm fine, just wishing for the comforts of home"

You see the tension leave your primarks body as he leans back slightly and your heart fluttered as his easy smile found his face again. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips before pressing his forehead against yours.

"The Aett may be far, but you are here and that is home enough for me" he murmured, his voice as thick and sweet as honey mjord as he brushed the tears from your face.

You pulled away and pressed your hands to his cheeks, admiring the way the dying embers cast a warm glow across his face and down his neck. His eyes shone, almost reflective as the light flittered and sputtered.

A thick golden braid had fallen over his shoulder and You leant back in, running the hair through your fingers before pressed a kiss against his lips. His arms wrapped around you and you felt like you were melting into him as he returned your touch, running his tongue along your lips, deepening the kiss.

You gasped as a callused hand found your ass, snaking beneath the metal blue dress you were wearing. Leman took advantage of your shock, pushing is tongue into your mouth and tasting you, his other hand locked in your hair. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you sucked his tongue, tasting mjord and smoke, earning a growl in return.

You separated and leman admired the mess you had become already, lips pink and cheeks flushed.

"I can give you a taste of home, if you miss it so much" he smirked, running his tongue along his fangs.

You rolled your eyes and grinned, before leaning back in for another kiss.

Russ took this as an open invite and swept you in his arms, dropping you on the bed and slowly slid your dress off your shoulders, peppering kisses and bites marks down your neck and shoulders as he swept the garment from under you and tossed it to the floor. His hand gripped your waist and ran down your thighs as he took a perk nipple in his mouth and ran his tongue around it, he grinned again, lifting himself from your breast to look at you.

Your eyes were slightly glazed as your chest rose and fell, looking at your lover with doe eyes.

He returned his gaze to your body, trailing his tongue down your stomach before reaching where you wanted.

He lifted your thighs higher as he dove in, licking and sucking on your pussy like a starving man. You gasped and instinctively locked your fingers in his hair.

His tongue felt rough but throne did he know what he what he was doing

Your moaned his name, hips jerking fruitlessly as he held you down, his eyes locked on your face as you came, your hands tightening in his hair as your orgasm rocked through you.

Leman rose, licking away your taste from his lips as he looked down at his work, you lay, flushed and gasping on the warm fur across the bed.

Just the way he liked it

He quickly made light work of his own clothes, throwing them into their own heap next to yours

Your eyes grazed over his body as he stalked towards you, trailing down his broad, scarred chest, following the line of his abs and the trail of hair, lower and lower...

Leman, climbed over you, his braids tickling your skin as he gently gripped one of your hands, locking it next to your head and gazing down at you. You felt your cheeks flush at the intensity of his eyes. The concern, care and feral arousal in his stare raised a heat in your core.

"my little queen" he whispered in your ear, as he slowly slid inside you, inch by inch filing you. You moaned as you felt yourself stretch to your limit, his dick reaching deep inside you as your back arched, pressing your breasts into his chest. He pressed a kiss to your cheek and slowly withdrew, before sliding back inside you, over and over.

"I'll fuck all the sadness right out of you"

You moan his name as he ground into you, one hand still gripping yours as the other held your thigh up, fucking you deeper than you could imagine. His dick touched every part of you as he filled you, over and over. The knot in you stomach getting tighter and tighter...

"L..leman right there!" You mutter into his ear, biting at his lobe "p please"

"Skíthof" he cursed as he felt you tighten around him, "so tight for me" your muscles fluttering around his cock as he drove deeper into you as you came.

Yes, scream my name, you belong to me, my sweet, my heart

You panted as you finished, wrestling your hand free, you gripped around his neck and looked deeply into his eyes.

"I love you, leman" you sighed, biting you lip as the feel of his driving into you, the sound of his breath and skin on skin and the heat from his body drove you towards another peak. "I love you, my wolf"

A brief look of shock passed across Russ's face, his movements became erratic and he growled and dropped his head to your shoulder as you felt him finish, feeling his cum fill you up as he jerked into you, pushing it deep inside your pussy and biting your shoulder, marking you as you cried out, finishing with him.

You stayed like that, wrapped under the body of your lord, his face pressed into the crook of your neck and your arms around him, his dick still wreathed inside you as his cum slowly leaked out.

The reality of your words set in

I love you leman...

The sweet comfort of your afterglow vanished and you blushed furiously.

"did I seriously say that for the first time DURING SEX?!" You screamed internally

Finally, you felt your partner moved, slowly raising off you, his locks tickling across your breasts sending goosebumps across your bare skin as he looked down at you wordlessly, the blue galciers of his eyes looking down at you, almost searching.

"mmm my lord I.." you stutter, trying to find the right words.

He silenced you with a firm kiss, grinning that stupid sexy grin. But despite the smug smile creeping across his features, his face was soft and he met your confused look.

"And I you, my Gmorl"

You lay in shock for a moment, your brain twisting at what was happening as leman pulled away from you and stretched, looking over his shoulder at you. You sat, bolting upright.

"I.. you..."

He smirked at you over his shoulder before rising to his feet and throwing your dress at you.

"come then, sweet one, do you still wish to see fenris again?"

He loved the way your eyes sparkled and you jumped off the bed towards him, clutching your wrinkled dress to your chest.

"really?? We're going home?" You laughed and spun and leman felt his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

He shook his head and bared his fangs in a wide love sick smile

"anything for you, my little love"

[rosanna-writer]

ACOTAR Fic Recs: Monsters, Monsterfucking, etc

This is nowhere near an exhaustive list and in no particular order, just some of my faves! Please go leave these lovely authors kudos and comments (and add your own if there's a fic you love that I've missed!) <3

Elucien

The Curse of Sleepy Hollow by @labellefleur-sauvage rewired my brain chemistry with with all the sexy possibilities of Lucien being able to take off his head

Feysand

Five Times the Beast Was Subdued (and the One Time It Wasn't) by @the-lonelybarricade!!!! Feyre giggling and calling beast Rhys "Rhysand darling" lives rent free in my head

flicker in the night by @belabellissima beast!Rhys broke my heart in the best way in this one, I ADORE IT

Tarquin x OC

Calanmai's Pearl by @vulpes-fennec scratches that sexy merman itch like nothing else, and Tarquin SERVES "gentleman in the streets, daddy in the (underwater) sheets"

Elriel

Oh Fanged Beast, Oh Trembling Fawn by yourstarsmyscars. WEREWOLF ELAINNNNNNN!!!!! Nothing makes me insane the way beast!Elain does!!!!

Gwynriel

Stigmata by @damedechance is SO DELIGHTFULLY CREEPY AND DARK!!!! This fic makes you feel like you're sitting at a campfire and hearing a scary story and also it's hot af

Gwyn x Bryaxis

For the Girl Who Sings of Stars by sinflower81 is so unexpectedly sweet??? This one has my whole heart <3

Emorie

The Danger in You by @yourethehero Mor and Emerie are even hotter as vampires, I don't make the rules, this one is a DELIGHT

Nessian

When We Howl, the Moon Will Cower by @c-e-d-dreamer I'd be sold if it were just witch!Nesta, and I'd be sold if it were just werewolf!Cassian, but this incredible fic blesses us with BOTH!!!!

Tamsand

Lay Me on the Cold Dark Earth by @witch-and-her-witcher the banter!!! the dual POV!!! the knotting!!! it has everything <3

Azris

Howl by @iftheshoef1tz buckle up because this one is a novel-length masterpiece. Werewolf Azris from the QUEEN!!!!

Multi-Ship Series

Werewolves by @separatist-apologist (Feysand, Nessian, and Elucien) is just....*chef's kiss*, 10/10, a CLASSIC! You can't go wrong with any of MB's monster fics, but werewolves are my fave.

Meet Me in The Darkness by AcrossASeaOfStars (Feysand, Nessian, Elriel) demon batboys in a Victorian setting, what more could you possibly ask for? The vibes are immaculate

The Archeron Apothecary by HeadCanonHeadCase (Gwynriel, Elucien, Emorie) covers it all! Werewolves, djinn, witches, demons, it's SUCH a fun series!!!!

[dragon-kazansky]

Spirit of the sea

Izzy Hands x Reader (GN)

SEASON 2 CONTENT AHEAD!!!

Blackbeard rules the sea. Despite wanting his captain back, Izzy realises his mistake. Protecting the crew is his concern. Protecting you is his life mission. Stede's return brings hope, but there's a lot of work to be done before this crew becomes a family.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Warnings: Spoilers. The ending he deserved. WHEN I CATCH YOU RICKY.

Chapter Seventeen - The unicorn and his sparrow

♡♡♡

It was funny. In a way. This whole thing had started with you in Stede's brig and now you were locked up with his crew. So much had happened since then.

The fucking Navy. Not even just that. Richard Banes.

Zheng had intended to use the Navy, but the prince as used that against her. He had given each ship a gift, a grandfather clock, as a sign of "peace." Only they were full of explosives and he had used them to destroy her fleet.

Now the Republic of Pirates was flooded with the English.

You were sat in the cell below Jackie's bar with the rest of the crew. Izzy hadn't left your side the entire time. When the bar got flooded with Navy men, Izzy had pushed you behind him. When you were caught and being manhandled, Izzy swore more than you had ever heard before. It was a constant "get your hands off them." He did not like seeing you being pushed around.

As soon as the cell was locked behind you, Izzy gathered you in his arms and held you to his chest. You had to reassure him you were okay.

Prince Richard decided to come pay you all a visit. "Hello, friends."

You reach for Izzy's hand. He squeezes yours back.

"This is bittersweet. I mean, here we all are at the end of piracy and you'll all be hung in the next few minutes and all your stories will be lost for the ages. Which is a shame because I do love a good pirates' tale. But don't you worry. Because I will not be hanging you by the thumbs like that deranged Captain Kidd." The prince rattles on.

"That's not what he did, you twat," Izzy says from the back of the cell. His hand was still holding yours.

"Oh, my. The great Izzy Hands," the prince claps.

"And you're... Pinocchio?" Izzy asks, mocking the man. You laugh with the others.

"A new one. Bring him upstairs."

You stop laughing.

"Sir, aren't we going to hang them?" The man beside the prince asks.

"Oh, yes. But they're not going anywhere." Richard smiles. "So I have time for a drink with a legend."

As the prince walks away, Izzy is summoned closer to the gate. You squeeze his hand, silently asking him not to go. Izzy turns to you. You look at him with leading eyes, shaking your head softly.

"Don't." The word falls from your lips in a soft whisper.

"I'll be alright. I'm coming back for you," he says softly. Your expression doesn't change and it hurts Izzy's heart to see you look so worried for him.

Izzy let's go of your hand and exits the cell. He turns to you once more before going upstairs.

You sink against the ball.

"Fuck."

♡♡♡

"Can't believe I have an audience with the great Israel Hands. That's absolutely astounding." Richard is in awe.

Izzy just focuses on the candles on the table.

"I've always thought you were underrated. I mean, it's absurd, isn't it? Isn't it? That Blackbeard, he gets all this praise, when you are quite clearly the brains of this operation?"

"Ya don't know the first thing about piracy, do ya?" Izzy asks him, looking up from the candle.

"Don't I?"

"It's not about glory. It's not about gettin' what you want. Its about belonging to something when the world bad told you you're nothin'. It's about finding the family to kill for when yours are long dead. It's about letting go of ego for something larger." You and the crew cross his mind. "The crew."

"Oh, my goodness. You've just grown so tedious." Richard chuckles dryly.

♡♡♡

Archie and Fang are trying to help pry the bars open enough for someone to slip through. You're sat on the cold ground of the cell staring at your dirty old boots.

What was this prince fuck talking about with Izzy? Why did he have to take him upstairs? Was Izzy okay?

Frenchie sits down beside you. "You doin' okay?" He asks.

"Peachy..."

"They'll bring him back. Izzy won't go down without a fight."

You sighs softly. "I know..."

"And he's not going to leave you here. Izzy cares for you more than he does for anyone. He's not gonna let you down."

You smile. "He could never do that."

Frenchie nudges your arm lightly.

"I worry about him. Like, all the time. I've sailed with Izzy Hands for years. I've known him deeper than anyone else ever has. He's let me see sides to him you would otherwise think didn't exist. I love him so damn much and now we're trapped here surrounded by the fucking Navy... And that prick has Izzy up there. I swear to god if that dick touches my Izzy, I will drive my sword through his eyes."

Frenchie grimaces. He gets the picture.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I get it," he says, smiling.

You chuckle softly.

♡♡♡

"I destroyed the Republic of Pirates and that makes me the ultimate pirate," Ricky said to Izzy.

Izzy is amused. "You're not a pirate, lad. You're a spoiled, entitled bunch of twats dressed in puffy, blue nighties."

"Shame, I was going to let you live."

"Kill me." Izzy smiles. "Kill us all. Our spirit will last throughout your entire fuckin' empire because... we're good." Izzy states, full of emotion. "And you... are a rancid, syphilitic cunt."

The sound of vast footsteps entering the bar has everyone turning their heads that way. Stede has entered with Zheng and Ed behind him.

"There's a lot of them," Stede says, looking around the room.

Within second of the Navy drawing their swords, they all keel over. Poison.

"Is that us doing that?" Stede asks.

Roach and Pete look around the room in confusion. Jackie laughs from behind them.

"What the hell was in that brandy?" Roach asks.

"Nothin' you want to fuck with." Jackie grins.

While Jackie assures the Swede he will be fine, Zheng walks over to Ricky and grabs him by the coat. "This is for Auntie."

"No!"

Zheng looks up to see Auntie there. She's fine. The rest of the crew flood into the bar. Auntie hits Ricky over the head and the crew greet their captain.

You waste no time making your way over to Izzy and checking him over. He smiles at your fussing.

"I'm fine," he assures you.

You take his face in your hands and look at him, sighing softly. "I was worried about you."

"I know," he smiles.

He brings one of your hands to his lips and kisses it gently. His eyes don't stay from yours.

Zheng and Auntie hug.

Everyone is together again.

"So we should probably make a plan here," Stede says, looking around.

"Still surrounded by English Soldiers."

"I think a royal hostage could prove valuable," Stede states.

Everyone gathers to hear the plan. It's completely diabolical. Probably the most insane plan you had ever heard. So dangerous and risky, anyone with sense would never go through with it.

"So, that is the plan." Stede says proudly. "We all live to fight another day."

"Or it's a complete suicide mission," Ed says.

The crew agree with that. You and Izzy glance at each other. Once again his hand is nestled in yours.

"It's only suicide if we die."

♡♡♡

You shrug on the blue coat, a size too big for you. You pick up one of the hats from the floor and place it on your head. The crew do the same. Stripping down the soldiers and taking their gear.

A disguise.

Izzy stares at the coat he is holding in his hand. You look at him softly. He doesn't react as you come over to him and slowly take the coat from him. He lets you take it from his hands and lets you help him put it on. You will the coat around him and smile.

"Very handsome."

"I'm not wearing the fucking hat."

You chuckle. "Course not. But I like the coat. Maybe we should get you a nice long coat."

Izzy rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a smile. "Don't be daft."

Once everyone was dressed, Ricky was trusted to you and Izzy, and everyone left the bar. Including Jackie and the Swede. Everyone was going to get off that island.

You were all going to take down as many English as you could. Groups of them were littered around the island.

The crew just needed to reach the shore.

Izzy handles Ricky. You follow him, staying close. The others follow.

"Hello," Ricky greets the group of soldiers. "The operation is over now, so we're just gonna head back to the ships, please."

It could have gone so smoothly.

You hadn't seen Ricky gesture down where he parted his legs enough for Izzy's wooden one to be seen. In a split second Ricky drew a gun and shot it.

"They're pirates!" He yells.

You hear Izzy groan, having been close enough to beside him. Your head snaps to him to see him holding his side. Blood is oozing out.

"Izzy!"

The crew fight the soldiers as you push Izzy to the side. You try to get a good look at the wound, but he refuses to move his hand.

"Izzy..."

"Come on," he grunts. He marches past you and onward. The crew follow. You hurry to catch up to him.

Izzy has been shot! That fucking prick.

The prince gets away.

The path down to the shore is clear. It's a straight run down. The crew will just have to watch behind them.

Izzy is falling behind. You refuse to go on ahead. You come over to his side and hold him where he hasn't been shot.

"Izzy?"

"Just... fuck off." He says it softly, no malice behind his words. He's hurting. When Izzy is in pain, you hurt too.

The crew are being shot at from behind. You hold onto Izzy as best as you can. Ed slows and hurries over, taking Izzy on the other side. You both get him to the boats.

Once everyone is on the ship Ed lays Izzy down. You remove the coat you're wearing to make a cushion for his head. Roach left immediately to get medical supplies.

Izzy looks up at you. There's a lot of blood and everything hurts, but still he sees you clearly. You're keeping pressure on the wound and giving out orders.

He smiles. He likes it when you're bossy.

You look down at him, tears welling up in your eyes. "Look at me, okay? Keep your eyes open. Don't you dare close them."

Izzy just smiles up at you.

"Why are you smiling?" You ask.

"Because you're beautiful," he says.

"Shut up. You're literally bleeding out," you say, but can't help but smile.

"I'm a lucky man."

You look at him, not sure what to say, but at least he was talking to you. You should keep him talking.

"Yeah?"

"Any man would kill to have a partner like you by their side. Especially in our line of work."

"You're getting sentimental..."

"I have that right, don't I? As a dying man."

"You're not going to die. I won't let you." You frown at him.

He continues to smile.

Roach returns with the stuff. You instruct him on exactly what to do. Izzy lays there and looks at you. His beautiful sparrow.

Eventually he passes out.

♡♡♡

Izzy wakes up feeling a horrid ache in his side. He inhales sharply, trying to get himself together before he opens his eyes properly. His mind is a little confused.

Something warm slips into his hand.

Izzy smiles.

His eyes open slowly and he turns his head to look at you. You're watching him closely. You lean forward when you see him wake. His smile brightens.

"Hello, love." His voice is hoarse.

You smile and let out a sigh. "You moron."

"You alright?" He asks.

"Me? I should be asking you that! Do you have any idea how worried I was about you? You passed out on me. I thought... I thought I lost you."

His smile fades as he gazes at you.

"I promised ya, didn't I? I'm never leavin' you again."

You lean over the bed and wrap your arms around him tight. You're careful of his wound. Izzy moves his arm so it wraps around you. He gives you a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry, love."

"I was so scared." You look up at him. "What would I do without you?"

He offers you a gentle smile, caressing your cheek gently with his finger. "I don't know. But I do know I'm one lucky man."

You laugh softly. "You already said that."

"I've been shot twice. Both times I've had you nurse me back to health. I'm very lucky." His gaze on you is full of fondness.

"I love you."

He pulls you closer and kisses you. It's slightly desperate, well needed.

"I love you too."

♡♡♡

Lucius and Pete just got married. Despite needing as much rest as he could get, Izzy insisted on being there to watch. It was lovely.

The crew cheer as they kiss.

You smile and look at Izzy. He smiles at you. "Maybe we should try that," he says.

"Try what?" You ask.

He shrugs lightly. "Marrying."

Your expression softens. "Is that a joke?" You ask, not entirely certain.

He shrugs again.

"You thought about it?" You ask.

"It's crossed my mind."

You smile softly. "Guess we'll see what the future holds."

His hand finds yours.

♡♡♡

Ed and Stede stood on the shore. On the horizon The Revenge sails away. The two watch their friends go, leaving them behind. Behind them was a run down building. They hoped to turn it into an inn.

The crew of The Revenge promised they'd be back someday, but they had a mission of their own.

The Revenge was under new command.

Captain Izzy Hands. His first mate, you.

There was a prince that needed hunting down. The Revenge would live up to it's name.

A calm came over the ocean. Like everything was how it should be.

Edward Teach knew deep down everything would be okay. The ship was in good hands and the crew would thrive.

Izzy Hands would thrive. He would live. He has everything to live for. He has you to live for. Just like how Ed had Stede.

Good luck to anyone who tried to mess with the unicorn and his sparrow. They were not people you should trifle with.

Izzy Hands is happy. Happy and in love

♡♡♡

@grippleback-galaxy - @askmarinaandothers - @godlikegallagher - @for-fuck-sake-im-alive - @whiskeyswriting - @lxsm2 - @bloody-bunni666 - @the-chocoholic-writer - @bugbugboy - @callmemana - @the-shenny-of-azkaban - @cool-ontherun-world - @outer-space-beech - @ahewi24 - @grace585 - @innertimemachinegirl - @dmitrytherat - @emilynissangtr - @fruitymoonbeams-blog -

[bambiraptorx]

[insert prompt here] — Leo is kidnapped

Admittedly this took a while to think of something, but I finally figured it out so this is gonna be about my fantasy au. Enjoy.

(For a little extra context, Big Mama is called Mother in this AU.)

Content warnings for abusive relationship, implied abuse/child abuse.

———

Leo knows the kind of situation he's in as soon as he inhales: the scent of roses and berries with a nearly imperceptible tang, carefully balanced in an artificial ratio that can only indicate perfume. Then again, the blindfold over his eyes—a familiar, delicate silk—could have told him as much. From the gentle rocking and creaking of wood, he's somewhere on a boat. The exact location would be harder to parse without being able to look around the ship itself, but the circumstances are clear.

Mother found him again, and she's bringing him home.

A door opening, a familiar skittering sound slowly approaching, and he can't help but press back against the chair he's chained to. As if by its own will the blindfold lifts from its place again his skin, leaving him face to face with... her.

A spider-woman towers over him, the cut of her fine dress elegantly framing her torso. It's something of a sharp contrast to her lower body; a spider's abdomen, the legs decorated with delicate gold bracelets. Her face could almost pass for human, were it not for the large fangs protruding from her mouth and the extra two pairs of eyes, but Mother's never needed to look like anything but herself.

She reaches out a hand and cups his face, the delicate hairs that cover her fingers itching ever so slightly. "My, my, little turtly-boo, you've taken yourself on quite the rollicking adventure, haven't you?"

Okay, she sounds amused. That could be good, that could be very, very bad. He'll assume it's the second.

"Heyyyy, Mother! Was wondering when you'd catch up with me!" He pastes on a cheerful smile, hoping this time it reaches his eyes. She's going to make it very clear if it doesn't. Mother always seems disappointed when his mask isn't good enough.

But right now, she smiles benignly as she withdraws her hand and steps away. "Of course, dearie, you know I'll always be able to find you. My people are simply everywhere, isn't it malutacious? But I must say, as entertaining as this little fizzacle of ours has been, it's gotten rather tiresome."

His heart sinks. If the song and dance of these meetings is coming to an end... he must have been right to assume Option Two. Good old, not quite reliable but always a possibility, Option Two. His least favorite for a reason.

"Really, all these meetings with mages and sorcerers and two-penny alchemists and what-have-you? Absolutely shameful, dearie." Mother arches an eyebrow. "But then you had to go and bring my name into it. Such a poor decisi-doo, love, I thought I'd raised you better."

Pointing out that she didn't actually raise him is a glaringly obvious trap and one he refuses to fall into. "What can I say, Mama, it got us out of a jam or two." He tugs furtively at the chains holding his wrists to the arms of the chair. No luck, the restraints are solid.

The lands ruled by the Three Heads were much stricter about things like soul magic than he'd imagined, and even just asking questions had quickly got him wanted posters in half the towns he stopped in. As much as he'd hated using her name to get out of the odd arrest warrant that would pop up, it was way better in the long run than rotting in jail. He couldn't save Mikey if he was rotting in jail.

Mother steps closer, looming above him. Her smile is just a shade off, a few muscles unflexed, from genuine. "Yes, my dear turtle, you made good use of your concatenation to me. You don't always appreciate it, do you?" Her eyes, decorated with makeup as they are, are cold and ugly as they bore into him.

His mind races. "Mama, please, you know we just—"

"Enough. Don't think I haven't noticed you banging your hollydoos at those chains, my ungrateful little escapee." The smile disappears as she cups his face once more. Oh, so he's fucked fucked.

"I believe you'll need a little more time to yourself. We've got quite some time before this ship reaches my capital, you know." She turns away, pausing just before the doorway. "And keep an eye out for the riddly-rats, dearie. I've been told they nibble."

With that the door slams, and he is alone.

———

Y'all are free to ask questions about this if anything doesn't make sense, it's been a hot second since I mentioned this AU at all and there's some new stuff going on with it now lol.

ask game

[longjohnsilverfish]

This Looks So Bad!

❤️A Karlach/Astarion Story❤️

[NSFW/18+] My first fic! Hope you enjoy!

A/N: I suggest the ship name be “Bloodfire”. Also everyone is in the character origin clothes.

For @moonselune. You did my dumb asks, so I thought I write you a fic for thanks.

^_______________________________________^

As the fireflies danced in the air, Karlach felt her infernal heart leap with quiet joy as she watched her friends converse amongst themselves. The night air cool against her mahogany red skin, tickling her ears as it brushed wisps of hair from their place.

All had quite changed in the few months she and her beau had been gutting and massacring the imps and cambions of Zariel’s forces.

So, so much.

Gale was a teacher. Minthara was regaining her power in the Underdark. Lae’zel and Shadowheart, married of all things—with a child, no less! Minsc and Jaheira were off on their on, having many stories to be shared. Halsin had returned to freed Shadowlands, and all was regrowing and reliving. Wyll—well, Grand Duke Ravenguard—was making Baldur’s gate better than ever.

And all that was left, was Astarion and—

“Oh, Karlach darling~.”

The red tiefling popped her head upwards from her thoughts. Sitting in the large golden, red cushions allowing the large woman to just rest, her fiery amber eyes stared around the party for the voice of her vampiric lover.

At least she thinks she did.

Am I losing it already? I could’ve sworn I heard him.

And just as the muscular tiefling thought as much, two cold dainty hands covered her eyes from behind. Even as gentle as they were, the palms were calloused from grim and dark warring, and the smell of charcoal and soot once more invaded Karlach’s senses—a driving memory of what tomorrow would bring, away from their moment of heaven.

“Oh! There you are.”, Karlach said with a grin, slowly taking her hands upwards to cup both pale, slim hands in her own red ones—cold and warmth purring together as they melted into a warm embrace together, fingers knitted and palms pressed.

Karlach stared upwards, as two eyes as red as her skin stared back.

“I’ll always be here, my love.”, Astarion purred.

It was a rough six months—so much action, blood, sleepless nights. It was Avernus, but it seemed that it was tenfold that last few days. It was a good thing Withers got them when he did.

Perhaps now, they could rest their backs and ease their muscles without any fear. “I was thinking…”, Astarion said suddenly. Karlach jumped back to the present, seeing the vampire look away slightly, biting his lower lip with a single fang just lightly, their intertwined right hand coming to rest upon his cheek.

“Ooh, scary.” The woman teased, earning her a nip at her wrist as Astarion locked his gaze with her. A tiny bulb of red grew from her wrist, a small sting growing.

“Hush, you.” He chided, kissing the blood away.

“Were you hungry?” She asked cocking her head to the side. “I’m sure we could find something for you.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure.” He dismissed, looking off without care. “But.”

“But?” Karlach furrowed her brow.

Astarion looked down, a twinkling amusement in his eyes.

”Well, we have an entire night to ourselves.” He began, kissing her wrist once more, his hand now holding the back of her own with a gentle touch, sharp nails grazing her skin in a babe-like touch. “No imps to carve, no devils to gut—just you, and me.” He grinned, baring his fangs. “And with that heart of yours now stable, I think it’s time I taste that forbidden red, hm?”

Karlach’s eyes widened, her body shifting in the large chair—that seemed to grow warmer each second.

And as each second passed, the red tiefling’s smile grew larger, her cheeks growing hotter. Her grip in his left hand tightened just slightly.

Karlach felt Astarion’s hand tighten around hers.

”I won’t hold back.” She said softly, her eyes not hiding her raging love.

“I would hope not, being that we’ve been through the Hells together this long.” The white-haired man bent downwards—nose touch nose.

“And I hoped the “Fury of Avernus” wouldn’t just want to talk and fall asleep after months of…pent-up anger, yes?”

…Well, when are we going to have another time?

•••••________•_________••••

“Now, get comfortable, darling.” Astarion ordered with tone of playful haughtiness. “This is our first time, after all.”

“I can take a bite, ‘Starion.” Karlach assured, snuggling into the grass.

As her arms cuddled within the soft blades of green, the strong tiefling felt a wave of calm wash over her—a growing fire in her core melting into a hot pool of molten magma. Her clothes rustled against her rough skin, hair tickling her nape as the soft breeze ushered her into its embrace.

This is the spot he first asked me, yeah? Karlach had glances around her surroundings. The trees stood tall and quiet, the leaves swaying in unison, the moon shining down upon the both of them. This looked like the spot, if not very similar.

How different it was, months ago. And yet Selûne’s bright beauty still looked so gracious on him.

Gods, he glows. How could anyone look so heavenly?

The sound a shirt plopping to the ground made Karlach stare to the small purple pile. A blush came to her face, as the tiefling was now lying down upon the grass with her vampiric lover standing above her—shining like diamonds, well cut and beautiful.

“Hm. Now let’s see…” Astarion spoke softly, looking down with his hand on his chin. A moment passed before the elf snapped his fingers in eureka.

“Oh yes!”

With a cough, Karlach watched as Astarion did a twirl. As he body faced her once more, he outstretched an hand to the beautiful tiefling woman, his eyes half-lidded and voice dropping an octave into a seductive, hungry voice.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

Karlach smiled as the imposing man slowly approached her, his eyes growing more rabid and fangs glowing in the moonlight as he walked forward.

“Waiting since the moment…”

Karlach’s heart raced faster as the vampire crouch to her, slowly climbing over her body as he continued his monologue. Her teeth bit her lower lip as he approached.

“…I set eyes on you.”

As the elf now was eye to eye with her, their breaths intermingled just as their bodies, a soft cold hand came upwards to capture her cheek. Karlach’s raging fire shined through her eyes like a light in the darkness—a hope, a life, and love that would endure for ages.

“Waiting to have you.”

Waiting no more, both man and woman surged for a kiss. A flavor, a feeling, a fluttering sense of heat that Karlach would always want for as long as she’s lived.

Slow and passionate, tongues and teeth lashing and dancing, huffs of pleasure leaving their maws in wanton lust was making Karlach more burned than her own heart ever did. Her strong arms slowly wrapped around Astarion’s back, pulling him deeper into her hold. Just as the red woman found her paving, Astarion pulled away in a pant—a long line of saliva connecting their lips. Both Karlach and Astarion panted in heat and exhaustion, their fires of want more brighter than ever.

“As much…as I like to kiss you,” Astarion heaved, his brow slightly moist. “I haven’t ate.”

“Then eat, fancy boy.”

Astarion grinned and bent down to Karlach’s exposed neck, turning her head to the left with a touch of his fingers.

“I shall, fire girl.”

A sting. A burn. A seeping calm that flowed through her body.

Karlach gripped Astarion’s back, sighing in a high-pitched wave of unfamiliarity.

Unfamiliar, yet welcome.

Gulp after gulp, Karlach felt her body heave and still. Her heart no longer raced in anticipation, but instead was calm beating that no longer worried.

No Zariel. No blueprints. No Hells.

Just her and Astarion, and her forbidden red he could finally taste.

Her eyes began to drift—first to her lover, who dutifully drank his fill, hand caressing her face in praise. From his white curls of snowy mountain peaks, did Karlach’s slight fleeting perception take note of her lover’s position upon her.

More accurately, how…odd it looked.

Several months of anxiety-filled fights and non-stop running from hordes of imps had left Karlach and Astarion shockingly no time to sleep together.

And it seemed, Astarion had forgotten—or didn’t care, most likely—to position himself normally.

Normally, Astarion would intertwine his leg with Karlach’s, and his body would be stretched out as far as he could over her muscled body.

At least, that’s what Karlach think he’d do. They hadn’t exactly ever tried. When would you find time in the Hells, exactly?

Whatever the matter, case, or whatnot—it was supposed to be hot.

Astarion—hunched over the tall, giant woman like a tiny goblin hoarding gold greedily, body hiked upwards to her chest with his knees on both sides of her chest, and overall looking extremely smaller than her, was not hot. His entire body was rocking in an air hump on her breasts, and his demean had the same energy as a little quasit in heat.

And as he suckled her neck desperately, the whole scene dawned on Karlach in a sense of hilarity. And as she slowly realized this, the large tiefling woman began to laugh uncontrollably.

“Ha-haha. Hahahaha—!”

“Hm? Karlackk?”

“—ahahahahaha! Haha! Hahaha—!”

“Kar—gah—Karlach?”

“—HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

Karlach felt her entire body quake with a feverous joy. The image in her head was quite a sight. So much so, the woman shut her eyes and continued her plaguing laughter until she felt two hands hold her shoulders and rock her slightly. Even still, the woman kept her laughter loud and proud.

“Darling? What is the matter?” Astarion looked down, his brow furrowed and his eyes amused, blood slightly smudged on his lower lip.

“Y-you! You!”, cried Karlach, squeezing her eyes shut to not look at Astarion and cease her voice—to no avail.

“Me?”

“Yes!”

“What did I do?”

“This looks so bad!”

“W-what?”, laughed Astarion incredulously. “How?”

“You’re hunched like a damn chihuahua trying to mate a Great Dane!”

A second wind came, and this all but empowered Karlach’s lungs as she heaved and gagged on her own breath. A sudden shift in weight made the strong woman turn onto her back, all while her arms—no grabbing nothing—held herself as she threw a giggling fit.

“I-I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it! You looked so weird!”

Just as Karlach began to cease her laughter, drying her tears with the back of her hands, head turned to see her lover. As she calmed, Karlach’s watery eyes caught the sight of Astarion—slowly removing the rest of his own outfit.

And as the echo of Karlach’s laughter ended, did Astarion’s start to be heard.

“A chihuahua mating a Dane, hm? That is quite ridiculous.” A mischievous tone was in his voice, and the sound of a belt being rattled and moved made what magma was pooling in Karlach’s core now erupt like volcano.

Now seeing more clearly, Karlach saw Astarion walking towards her—belt in both hands wrapped tightly. He was no gloriously naked—slim, hairless body that held his curved manhood like a trophy on display for all of nature to marvel at.

With no time to react, the elf crouched behind the tiefling woman and tied the belt firmly around her wrists together in a bind. It felt powerful against the tiefling, and albeit very weak—yet Karlach knew she didn’t want to break free.

“Well, you know what they say…”

The clap of Astarion’s palms on Karlach’s leather pants made her shiver, his sharp nails digging under the elastic of her trousers and undergarments.

“Every mountain top is within reach, if you just keep climbing.”

Swiftly, the lusting elf pulled both off and to her creased knees—just revealing her absolutely soaked cunt to the air. Karlach looked over her shoulder the beat she could—ass and tail in the air, almost seeing the slight mist from her hot core against the cool air.

“Ha-ha. Ha. Cold. Co-O-old-ah!”

A single digit dragged its base upwards and downward the puffy slit of Karlach. Teasing, playing, like a child does a new toy. Slowly down, starting tight at the large clit that pulsed throbbed. The path of thick pink lips and shiny hot flesh was surrounded by soft dark curls that were soaked in sweet fragrant lust that condensed into leaking excitement—all pouring from a soft, small hole that begged to be touched inside and out as Astarion’s finger continued its journey.

“O-oh! Oh, Star! Ah-Astar—!”

A loud, cold smack came to Karlach’s ass, quick and short lived to think about as the hand dragged across the roundness of Karlach’s buttox—making its way to the base of her wagging tail. The tiefling groaned in happiness of the sensations—from not being able to even hug, to now having her womanhood teased and tail touched? “Ngh. Ngh. Ngh.”, huffed Karlach as Astarion drafted his hand down her cunt, just as his second hand gripped her tail and slowly stroked it up and down—the ridges and bumps making the sexual stimulation all the more craving. “You like it, darling?”, Astarion cooed gently.

“Yes…”, Karlach whimpered in glee.

“Yeah?”

“M-mhm.”

A hard smack came down upon Karlach’s stimulated cunt, like a farmer would do to his hefer’s rear. The tiefling howled in pleasure, squeezing her legs together and pushing her ass upwards. Her claws dug into the grass, holding for some kind of stable ground to keep her from climaxing right then and there. The woman’s tail flailed wildly, before being gripped in place in silence.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Now now, what would the others think if they heard us?”, the elf tutted, smoothing his palm over the reddening clit, smearing Karlach’s lubricant all over her now engorged clit.

”Fuck me.”

“Fuck you? You’re much too big. What was the analogy? A chihuahua mating A Gr—?”

Karlach took a breath and heaved herself backwards, now falling on top of Astarion’s naked body—cock riding upon her back. With slight resistance, and a lot of maneuvering, Karlach scooted upwards and now hand her lover’s erected manhood right against her cunt.

This is it! We’re going, to do it! “Ready, baby?”, Karlach turned her head, smirking with lusting eyes to the elf beneath her, his arms the only way he could communicate his answer. A thumbs up was raised, and Karlach laughed.

“Can you breath?”, she snorted.

Thumbs up. “You lying?”

Thumbs up.

“Okay, okay.”

Karlach hoisted herself up upon her knees, freeing Astarion’s upper half. Meanwhile, Karlach had her womanhood raised above the throbbing tip of the vampiric elf. The red tiefling woman looked back to her lover and smiled.

“Gods I wanna ride you ‘till you see stars.”

“No more chatter. You’ve waited long enough.”

Yeah, I have…

And in a moment, Karlach slowly pushed her hips down—taking all of Astarion inside her. It was hurting, at first. While Karlach wasn’t a virgin, it had been a very long time since she had been with another. Now, she was taking Astarion whole. With each inch she descended, more of the girth filled her walls. With each second, the throbbing tip pulsed inside her walls, pushing them apart after years of no use. It was like Karlach’s belly was filling up like a water balloon—too much, sloshing around, and heavy in the palm.

The palm, in this case, being her core.

“Ooh! Oh, Astarion!”

“Gods! Karlach, yes.” Astarion purred from behind, his hands smoothing up her back, his tight stroking up her tail—each ridge being dragged and traced by his long nail.

“You’re doing so well, darling. Keep at it.”

Karlach nodded, slowly moving her hips in a slow fashion, moaning with each new curve and crease. “Mngh.”

“Too much?”, he teased.

“No. Just right.”

“You’re just right.” Astarion jeered playfully as he attempted a thrust, to no avail because of the sheer weight of Karlach.

“Oh Gods. You’re huge.”, Karlach groaned out, feeling each inch slide deeper within her as she pushed her ass back to collect more of her lover within her womanhood.

“Heh. You don’t need to perform.”, Astarion cooed gently, stroking the woman’s tail in encouragement. “Just relax.”

“I-I’m not. It’s been so long I-I!” *Karlach heaved and cried out, falling over to the grass in an earthquaking orgasm. Her whole body shook in pleasure. Her cunt clamped down upon Astarion, and her juices gushed out upon his cock and stomach—a puddle of heat all around them in a circle.

Karlach froze, her body recovering from itself surprising orgasm. It had left her unexpectedly, from left field.

“Oh Gods…” Astarion huffed, patting her ass. “You were incred…Karlach?”

Karlach looked back, wiping her eyes quickly. “Yeah, ‘Star?”

“Karlach, what’s wrong, darling?”

And Karlach came crashing down, sobbing in her hands. Hiding her face, the tiefling woman let out small choked cries of embarrassment, of shame, and of realization.

They had run out of time. Tomorrow, would be another battle. Another gutting. Another massacre. Another day, where her heart was stable, but still broken just as day it was made.

“I-I can’t. I don’t w-wanna…”, sobbed Karlach pitifully. “Astarion..”

The strained movements beneath Karlach made her realize they were still connected. With a swift move, Karlach moved herself off of Astarion, and the naked man crawled over to sit upon his knees, taking holding her hands in comfort.

“Shh. It’s alright, my love. Let it out.”, he soothed, taking a finger to wipe away a large tear.

Karlach sobbed with a soft smile, nuzzling into Astarion’s white hair—soft, curly, and smelling of soot and charcoal.

“You didn’t finish.”, she said, muffled by the puffy curls.

“That doesn’t matter. This was about you.”

“But we’ll never have—.”

Astarion placed a hand at Karlach’s mouth, staring deeply into her eyes with an emotion of unknown origin. And yet, it was welcomed.

“Somewhere. Someday. And as long as I live, I’ll wait.”

Karlach gave a weak smile and pushed the hand away, kissing Astarion with gentle lips. Soon, it was like before—a passionate kiss, that ended with Karlach on top, and Astarion on the bottom.

And just as they pulled away, Karlach looked down and began to laugh.

“This looks really bad.”, she laughed.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe someday, we’ll have our moment. I’ll ride him, he’ll ride me. That works, right? Yeah, yeah. Just be patient.

Yeah, I can be patient.

———————

I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDXXDD

[buggyboba]

◇ Me And The Devil ◇

◇ Me And The Devil ◇

{Vampire!Missy x Female Reader}

A game of cat and mouse, leads to feeding your vampire alien and more. 

AN: hi, hello! I have zero self control, please accept this bit of smut as an apology for being missing for a month. ♡ but also low key let me know if you want this to be a series and not a one off. -Buggy 

TW: blood, Smut (fingering, reader receiving) pet names (Missy says good girl and pet) mentions of hypnosis but it's vague. 

Word count: 3000 A03 link [x]

—--- x —----

Your heart pounded, you knew she could hear it, helping her pinpoint where you were, if that didn't do it, you had sliced your arm on something sharp in your latest attempt to hide. The scent fills the area, luring her to you like a shark. You tried to sink further into the ship, but it seemed her Tardis had a mind of its own, and it was most certainly working against you to help its master in this game of cat and mouse, silly loyal old thing. 

"If you don't stop trying to hide, little mouse, I will be forced to chain you up, and as much fun as that could be." Missy’s voice was a dangerous growl, her normally cold blue eyes slit much light cat eyes and shifted to a crimson as she sniffed the air, You could see her from where you hid. There was no way she wasn't going to find you. “Where are you even trying to go, we are in space silly.” She almost spoke in a sing-song tone. “You would die, you know, frozen little chunks of human ice cubes,” she smirked. “Could use you to chill my drink,” she muttered, her eyes scanning for you. 

The Time Lady was trying to hold her desire back, her fangs lengthened and her soft pink tongue ran over them. The action was equal parts salacious and terrifying. She made a show of looking everywhere around you before she jolted towards you pulling you from your hiding spot and roughly pinning your arm above your head as she pushed your body against the wall, her tongue poking into the leaking cut licking up collecting your blood, you didn't feel the sting that should have been there, the sting that kept your heart pounding, you assumed it was her saliva, you weren’t an expert on vampires, none the less alien vampires, that was the closest thing you could use to describe her.

 Her eyes darkened more as she pressed against you, keeping your hips pinned with hers, sucking on the cut. “I do love it when we play cat and mouse, it's exhilarating isn't it?” She smirked against your arm, languid licks and overly loud sucks filled the air with wet bordering on lewd sounds. She kept you pinned for a moment longer before she pulled her lips and tongue away from you with a playful pop, her lips smeared with your blood. You panted softly, your head spinning. 

“You like it, you know you do, my dear.” She practically purred in your ear, giving her hips a playful roll against yours, her other hand moved to grab your chin tilting it gently with two fingers, her eyes back to normal as she stared into yours, you felt your mind tug a bit, as she grinned. 

You had felt this feeling before, the night she took you as her ‘companion’. She had called you that with such a tone that it had made you uneasy. She had so ‘graciously saved you from your mundane little human ape life,’ you remember her saying. She had whisked you off, showed you stars and planets, luring you into staying. Her beauty had captivated you, she was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen, with slightly pointed ears, pale skin, and those mesmerizing light blue eyes. She was charming, so charming, but there was always a hint of danger behind her words and actions. Anytime you had suggested returning to your home, or life, she would tilt your chin to have you look into her eyes, and your mind would get fuzzy and you would agree to one more adventure. You don’t remember how many times you said ‘one more adventure’, now. 

Then she let you see who, what she truly was, when she had run out of her supply of what you had thought was wine. You knew now it was blood, the first time had been a whirlwind of fear and chaos, she pinned you beneath her with such strength you couldn’t squirm away, you thought she was going to take you by the way her lips were against your neck, giving your neck hot opened mouth kisses, the way her tongue curled and licked against your pulse, that had been hammering in your throat, before sinking her fangs into it, you remembered it had only hurt for a moment before a warm feeling fell over you. That's what started your new ‘relationship’, she had decided your blood was intoxicating, better than anything she had tasted lately. You were her ‘human juice box’ she affectionately called you, you didn’t find it affectionate at the time, but it had started to grow on you.

“So my dear, should we continue this somewhere more comfortable? Or do you want to run again, I do so love the chase.” she purred into your ear, kissing behind your ear, then down your neck. Sending warm shivers through you. “Submit to your Mistress, Pet.” she breathed out, her hands slowly moving down your sides to your hips, her nails dug in a bit, causing you to hiss out softly. Your hands moved to hold her arms lightly, as she kissed your neck again, her tongue pressed to your throat, making you shiver again as she licked up it. You felt your resolve slipping, your mind getting fuzzy again. “Mmm that’s it pet, say yes.” she nipped at your earlobe. You felt a soft whine leave your throat, it almost surprised you, but the sound only produced a low growl from Missy. “That wasn’t a yes,” she breathed out, not that she needed you to say yes, she could just take what she wanted, she had before, but it made the blood taste so much sweeter when you submitted. You weakly nodded, and she gave a playful mock scoff, “use your words, I know your brain isn’t too far gone, pet.” she teased and pulled you closer to her.

“Yes Mistress.” you relented finally, and she grinned wider.

“Mm, good girl.” she praised, and pulled away suddenly, the sudden lack of contact caused you to almost whine again. “Come along pet.” she motioned with two fingers to follow her, which you did with the grace of a lost puppy. The sound of her heeled boots echoed through the silent walk towards her bedroom. She would cast looks behind her to make sure you were still following, though she knew you were, her movements had a certain sway to them as she walked, a new pep in her step. 

The dim, lavender light of the tardis lit the way, and soon they were in front of her door. “After you, my dear,” she said opening the door, you obediently walked in, immediately your senses were filled with her perfume, making your head dizzy again, but it had become such a familiar almost comforting scent when she wasn’t thirsty and hunting you. You felt her presence behind you, her arms wrapped around your waist pulling you back into her, her face buried into your neck, it would have been nice, almost romantic if you hadn’t known better. Her hand moved to pull your hair to the side, exposing more of your neck to her as she took in your scent, appraising you like a fine wine. She moved, slipping away from you, her hand trailed your arm to your hand, pulling you towards the lavish bed sat in the middle of the back wall, the soft black sheets calling for your body. Your legs moved, walking with her, before she gently pushed you back, the back of your knees hitting the bed’s edge, causing you to sit, she moved with you, pulling her skirt up just a bit as she moved, straddling your lap, forcing you back on the bed more. The breath caught in your throat, as she dipped her head to your neck again, planting surprisingly soft kisses against it, almost in reverence. Your eyes closed at the action, it always surprised you when she was softer, actions that didn’t fit the woman you had come to know. Her hands moved up your body, fingertips trailing up your stomach, over your chest dragging a bit until they got to your neck, feeling your pulse quicken beneath her fingertips, cold against your warm skin. You knew she was doing this for you, these soft touches, she wouldn’t admit it, she would say it was to make the blood taste better, but you had seen her tear apart an alien before, ripping into its throat, so you knew she didn’t need this to drink from you. 

You let your hands move, testing if she would let you touch her, when she didn’t stop you, you let your fingers push under her tight jacket to touch her sides, feeling the soft fabric of her white blouse. You wondered if she didn’t secretly crave the touch as well, that’s why she did this so sensually. She would deny that as well, saying she was above such things, that your need for touch was just left over from the primordial ooze you crawled out of, that she was superior because her civilization had grown out of it, you didn’t believe her, not for one second. You had seen the glances, the ones where she looked at you when you weren’t paying attention. When her edges would soften just for a moment, and you could have sworn there was something there, something that wasn't just her playing with you.

Missy pulled at your top, stretching it down to your shoulder as she kissed down it more, your flesh marred with her teeth marks, scarred, and claimed as hers and only hers. Her breath ghosted against your collarbone as she nipped it, your body pressed against her more as she sucked against it, the warmth spreading through your body, you tried not to make a sound, but a harder suck produced a low groan, which seemed to amuse her as you felt her smirk against your skin, there was rarely any talking during these moments, which was also odd, because Missy wouldn’t shut up most times, but in times like this it was just them, pressed together you feeding her with your blood, her feeding you with her touch. Her lips dragged back up to your neck before you felt the pinprick of her fangs sinking into your flesh. Her body pressed harder against yours pushing you back, so your back would hit the soft mattress beneath you. Her hands wandered down again gripping your hip tightly as she sucked against your neck, drawing your blood to the surface, her eyes closed at the taste. You were divine, delicious, and exquisite, but these are praises she would never say to you, she didn’t want you to get an ego after all. Her tongue lapped at the wound she had made before she bit another part of your neck, her other hand steadied the back of your neck so you couldn’t move your head away, not that you would, she had you right where she wanted you. You felt her body shift as she pressed her knee between your legs, forcing them apart a bit, your hands grabbing at her side tighter as you arched into her more, giving a weak rut against her leg, this produced a low, almost groan sound from her. 

Missy’s grip tightened as her sucks became harder, her tongue pressing harder against the wound, her senses filled with the taste and scent of you, her lip curled up in a soft snarl, as she let her hand move down your hip to your leg pulling it up against her waist. The action pulled a surprised gasp from your partly opened lips, which in turn made Missy give a dark chuckle as she freed your other leg to also find its place on her waist. She let you weakly grind against her in need. Her hand moved down her nails trailed against your inner thigh teasing closely to the apex between your legs. “Hush now you needy thing.” She muttered against your neck licking up it. “Are you going to be a good girl next time I want to feed?” She let her fingers stroke your covered slit up to tease your clit, through the fabric of your underwear. 

Was she really bargaining with intimacy? She did know how to get what she wanted, and you were no exception. You quickly nodded, “Yes!” You breathed out quickly, Missy paused her hand waiting for you to fix your mistake, which caused you to whine out trying to lift your hips against her hand more. “Yes, Mistress!” You corrected after a moment, she gave a contented hum, moving her fingers again, slow teasing circles that elicited low groans from your throat. 

The scent of your arousal hit her nose, and her pupils contracted as she let her lips drag up to your jaw kissing along your jawline, before nipping there, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to be aware of the sensation. Her hands moved fingers hooked around the sides of your panties, she pulled them down slowly, teasing with anticipation. Your body wanted, no you needed her touch again, but she wasn’t going to make it easy for you. She wanted your desperation, she wanted your cried-out begs, and she was going to get them.

Her fingers touched you flush slipping through the wetness of your arousal, you felt her shiver, “Mmm, barely did anything and you are practically dripping, sweet girl.” She breathed out against your ear, her breath ghosting against the shell of your ear, before she sunk two of her long fingers into you slowly, delighting in the way your walls flexed against them in need. She curled them as she thrusted them in a slow coaxing pace, determined to draw it out and make you beg her for it. Once again her teeth were in your neck, causing you to cry out in pleasure, your body softly shaking beneath her as she worked slowly. 

“Mi-Missy please!” You breathed out quickly, your hips moving to meet her pace rocking trying to urge her, but you knew it wasn't going to work, she had her mind set on dragging it out, making you a writhing mess, she wanted to draw screams from you. She made a contemplative ‘hm’ sound giving her fingers a particularly harder deeper thrust into you, causing your body to jolt in pleasure. “Mistress please!” You tried using her title instead of the name she had given you, this earned you a bit faster and steady movements, her fingers curled to press against your walls, pressing and rubbing with expert precision your sweet spot, the sound that left your throat was of pure pleasure as you tilted your head back more. A soft stream of cursing and her name fell from your lips. “Please! I need!” You choked out your thighs starting to shake. 

“Mm need what?” She leaned away smirking. “Come on pretty girl, use your words…I know you can, or have your brains gone all mushy from pleasure?” She grinned, her thumb circling your clit in a teasing manner, firm enough to add to your pleasure but not enough to push you over. “You can do it.” She teased you playfully. “Tell your Mistress what you want…and maybe she will give it to you, kitten.” She watched the pleasure wash over your cheeks in a blush, “look at you red as a cherry…” She mused. “Probably thrice as sweet.” She breathed out licking her lips. 

“I need more!” You whined softly. 

“More? you needy girl!” She gave a cheeky look at you. You gave an exasperated sound, her teasing always got to you, and you were always a breath away from trying to choke her, or kissing her at any given time. “Oh you sound so desperate, go on ask me nicely.” She nipped at your jaw softly. 

“MISSY!! Please! I need more of you, Mistress, please!” You begged out quickly, not sure how much of her slow teasing you could take. She rolled her eyes acting like Your need inconvenienced her game, it probably did but you couldn't think about it right now, your blood was on fire in desperate need of release. 

“Oh alright then pet.” She tsked, her fingers moved faster drawing beautiful moans from your throat, pushing you farther into pleasure, driving you to the edge of your climax. 

Her teeth drew across your neck again, to your throat as you let out a louder groan, her tongue pressed against it feeling the vibrations, she let her lips settle between your jaw and where it connected with your neck sucking there, pulling the blood to the surface making a dark bruised hickey. 

The pleasure finally washed over you as you arched against her again, a choked out loud “Missy~” as you came, her fingers moved still coaxing you through your climax until she was sure you were spent, your body giving small shakes in the aftershock, she pulled her fingers from you. You watched as she let her tongue wrap around her digits cleaning you off them, a soft gasp escaped from your parted lips. 

“I was right thrice as sweet.” She smirked at you. “You made a mess, sweet girl.” She mockingly stated. “But because you were good, I suppose you can stay here at least until you recover.” She shrugged. You nodded softly, you knew it was because she wanted you there, and you would take it for tonight. These rare moments always warmed you, you craved them, and she gave you just enough of them to keep you wanting more.  

Missy moved off the bed, her tongue darted out to collect the bit of blood from the corner of her lips that remained. "Get some sleep," she said moving to leave you in the bed, alone with your thoughts. Fuck, you were a human juice box for the hottest woman you had ever seen, and you couldn't help but feel excited for the next time she would need to feed.  

—--x—--

Taglist:

@Theonetruepotato87 @neurodiverse-dumpingground @lena-kieran-luthor @marisacoulterswife @germansarechill @vivvision @skarrkiie @missyblr @toastvogel @what-bout-me @shipshroom @lilibrina

[twisting-echo]

Adam turns away from Elsa, trembling. His shoulders shake, and he can barely keep his breath steady. Elsa, noticing his distress, reaches out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Adam?" she asks softly, her voice filled with concern.

In an instant, Adam roars, "Don't touch me!" His voice is noticeably gruffer, sending a shiver down Elsa's spine. He peers shakily over his shoulder, revealing wide, fear-filled eyes. A fanged tooth protrudes from his lips, and small curved horns jut from his head. Overwhelmed by fear and shame, he turns and bolts down the hall.

Elsa follows him, her heart aching at the sight. As Adam reaches the west wing, he slams the door shut with a force that echoes through the castle. Elsa stops just in front of the door, taking a deep, steadying breath. She knows she must reach him, must show him that he is not alone.

With a gentle resolve, she begins to sing softly through the door, her voice carrying the weight of her emotions:

"Every inch of me is trembling, but not from the cold. Something is familiar. Like a dream, I can reach but not quite hold. I can sense you there. Like a friend I've always known. I'm arriving, and it feels like I am home. I have always been a fortress. Cold secrets deep inside. You have secrets too, but you don't have to hide."

With each word, she pushes the door open a little further.

"Show yourself." She sings, stepping into the room. "I'm dying to meet you." She takes another step closer, her voice a soothing balm in the tense air. "Show yourself. It's your turn."

She approaches him slowly, her eyes never leaving his trembling form. "Are you the one I've been looking for, all of my life?" She sings as she closes the gap between them.

Adam is huddled on the ground, clutching a mirror close to his chest. He avoids her gaze, his entire being radiating fear and vulnerability. Elsa kneels down beside him, gently lifting his chin. His face is a mix of human and beast, but she focuses on his soft blue eyes, seeing the frightened child within.

"Show yourself." She sings softly, her voice filled with compassion and love. "I'm ready to learn."

Adam's clawed hand gently wraps around her wrist as she tenderly strokes his chin. In that moment, a silent understanding passes between them. They are not alone—they have each other, and together, they will face whatever comes.

....

Notes:

Just love the idea of Elsa singing the first half of "Show Yourself" to a vulnerable, half-formed Beast. This ship cuts deep into me, you guys. 💖❄🥀

[bougiebutchbitch]

yk i haven't been able to get hyper mobile Izzy out of my head all day... maybe they hit a storm and he manages to dislocate something while they all are doing their best to keep the ship going and once the crew botice they all are all ??? and worried and all while Izzy's just there like. 🙄 same old bs, stop fussing ):<

omg yes! I imagine he's full of arthritis too after a lifetime of constant sublux/dislocations........ and I'm agressively giving him my current bugbear of 'hips keep coming out'. So like, after a fight his non-prosthesis leg'll be stuck in internal rotation, shortened, immobile and completely unable to weight bear.

Poor dude is balancing on his hoof and nub which, as he did NOT give that residual limb anywhere near adequate time to heal.... owie.

Fang puts a hand on his back to steady him, thinking his leg got cut or whatever. That hand strays lower when Izzy wobbles, and - oh, woah. He can feel a whole damn femoral head sticking into Izzy's scrawny li'l ass-cheek.

Which - well. That's nothing new, really.

"Need a hand, boss?" Fang asks, real cheerful.

Izzy, white with pain, grabs Jim's shoulders for stability and nods. Hips don't go in easy without help, after all. But while he's needed assistance before, he's always been a total ass about it, worrying at Fang and Ivan the whole time like an injured, untrusting dog, even as he clings to them, high off his mind with the pain.

Now... now Ivan's not there to help (a hurt Izzy can't examine too closely, in case it supersedes the one currently eating away at his hip). But when he raises his wavering vision, he sees the whole damn crew arrayed before him, still bloody and sweaty from the fight, panting as they stare with... worry?

Ugh, thinks Izzy, though he has to duck his head real quick to hide the smile.

"Gimme a Captain Morgan," he says.

As Pete blurts 'what, like the rum?' Fang obligingly tucks his beefy arms under Izzy's armpits and helps Jim shuffle him over to lay on a nearby pair of big barrels, sword clattering to the deck. The pain has dulled from the awful fire of his major weight-bearing bone stabbing into his sciatic nerve and soft tissue, to a constant gnawing ache. Like his hip joint is full of acid.

"Happen a lot, then, huh?" mutters Jim, as they arrange him at Fang's direction, knee raised at ninety degrees over his screaming pelvis.

"Fucking - fuck - fuck - "

"I'll take that as a yes." Jim glances at Fang. "You better show us all how to fix it, then."

Fang shrugs, pointing to Izzy. "Eh, he's the boss."

So, as Pete returns with the promised rum - which Izzy grabs without a 'thank you' and swigs from the damp bottle neck, blunting the pain to the point where he can concentrate - he gives 'em a tight-lipped, breathless lesson on how to apply axial traction and use your knee as a fulcrum, until you feel that satisfying clunk.

As soon as it's back in, the pain flares brutally, then shrinks away, leaving him wracked and shuddering. Izzy shoves at the bottle when Pete next tries to raise it to his mouth, sloshing liquor everywhere (but he shoots the man a harried nod of gratitude, which, judging by Pete's grin, he treasures). He waits for his racing heart to settle. Then makes to sit - only to pause at the big hand splayed over his chest.

"Uh," says Oluwande. "You sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm first mate," argues Izzy. "I give the orders."

But he lets himself sink back as Olu pushes him, and when Lucius gingerly picks up his bloody sword from where it fell and starts to clean it (pulling faces the whole time at having to touch blood and goo), he doesn't snap for him to leave his damn weapon alone.

"What helps?" he hears Roach asking Fang, all matter-of-fact - the man's taking notes, Izzy bets. "I've pulled a leg back in a coupla times - different method, but same principle, y'know? But I've never stuck around for what comes next. Cold first, to stop the swelling?"

"Good luck finding that in the Caribbean, babe," says Frenchie, to which Roach dips him a wink as he vanishes below deck.

"Do not doubt my power!"

Izzy rolls his eyes - but Roach returns soon enough, carrying a cool glass bottle from the hold.

"Get him in the shade," he orders Fang and Jim, waving to the slightly cooler area below the great cabin's overhang. "Lay him out, and fetch him a new one of these every time it warms up."

Frenchie and Lucius readily volunteer for the task of wrestling Izzy's trousers down, with much eyebrow waggling and wolf-whistling apiece, but Izzy, for once, doesn't have the heart to shove them off. He just snorts, helping them shove the blood-crusted leather to his knees, modesty maintained by his smalls and the long drapes of his oversized shirt.

"Oh yeah," says Roach, snapping his fingers as Frenchie rolls the cool bottle against the outside of Izzy's hip - how he'll react when Izzy caves and asks him to put it on the inside instead, Izzy doesn't know, but he kinda wants to find out. "Don't let him get up."

The whole damn crew nods. Izzy lets his head fall back on the planks with a thunk.

"It's really not that big a deal," he grumbles (though the lingering ache of abused tendons begs to differ). "S'back in. I can walk. S'fine."

"Sh-sh-sh," scolds Archie, leaning on Jim's side a few feet away. "No need. I've heard you yell, little guy - we'll all be able to hear you bark orders from here."

Jim nods, smile thin as their knives. "So, you'd best get shouting at us and telling us what to do, so we can be away, huh?"

And, well, Izzy can't argue with that. He relaxes into the comforting cool of the bottle (and, loathe as he is to admit it, Frenchie and Lucius's hands, both of which press gentle on his skin), shirt clinging to him with blood, none of it his own. Or that of his family.

Then he raises his voice.

"Alright, you lazy twats! Show's over! Back to work!"

[lore-gore]

Also PLEASE post about your oc! I'm trying to get up the courage to make one for hh x3

Finally! It's time! My most detailed oc that I've been working on for five years! (I am so nervous about sharing this)

Originally they were a self insert but grew to become their own character. (Which is why we have the same name. So I suppose they are both a self insert and an oc?)

I'm including bio, relationship with characters, and scene inserts

Hopefully this does not come off as cringe (I better get complements or I will cry)

Tw for death, murder, violence, bullying, obsession, stalking, mentioned kidnapping, shipping with alastor because why not, British people

Also tag me when you make yours!!!

@myroanokenightmare666 @frilledshark-enthusiast @astral--horrorshow you prommied

Bio:

Lorelai "Lore" Dagenhart

The token spooky weird goth character

Ghost Demon (based on an onryo)

She/They

AFAB Nonbinary

Biromantic Asexual

24

Autistic

Goth

British

From Birmingham

Chaotic neutral

Scorpio

Gen Z

Born October 31, 1999

Died October 31, 2023

Stabbed in the heart

Killed her old bullies (The four main ones; failed to kill the last one. Or did they?)

Was bullied severely (called names and slurs, beaten up, tripped, shoved, desk was graffitied, hair pulled and even cut, had liquids poured on her to trigger their sensory issues, rumors spread to the point not even the other goths wanted to hang out with her because they thought they sacrificed birds, locked in closets, etc.)

Failed to make friends

Tried to act "normal" for a while but because she had already been established as the weird kid it didn't work

Decided to commit to being weird

Loves being eccentric

Says weird, random, and ominous things

Likes scaring people; is good at it

Special interest is horror

Was a semi popular horror author

Drew their own covers

Has a cute style and a realistic monster style

Had good parents growing up

Parents owned a funeral home

Dad was a funeral director and mom was a mortician

Were similar to Morticia and Gomez

Speaks English and British Sign Language

Sister was deaf (her name was Faye)

Scared of bodies of water (especially running water)

Doesn't mind rain

Can still swim

Bright rooms give her sensory overload (puts on sunglasses to combat this)

Wears sound filtering earbuds

Rarely holds conversation

Either infodumps or barely contributes

Avoids eye contact

If they force herself to make eye contact, they will hold it for way too long

Only really makes eye contact when trying to intimidate someone

Struggles with social cues

Won't realize someone is upset unless they tell her

When that happens, they will simply sit and listen, which works well

Can recognize fear

Fluctuates between touch adverse, touch positive, and touch indifferent

Has a heart-shaped face, a small nose, pure white skin, long black hair parted in the middle that reaches the floor, big droopy eyes that are completely black, including the sclera, dark circles, black lips, and white fangs

Tall

6'5, 7'0 with her platforms

Very thin and bony

Wears a grey hoodie with a red x over their heart and heart shaped lock prints running down the sleeves, a pleated black skirt, black and white striped stockings, knee high lace up black 5 inch platform boots and a binder

Facial expression is usually neutral

Voice is also usually monotone

Has a haunting singing voice

Cold to the touch

The temperature in the room lowers when she gets upset (the more upset they are, the colder it gets; she is unaffected by this)

Can float

Can turn invisible

Has prehensile hair

Every time they cut it it grows back

Can't be styled either (will just return to its normal state)

Can store things inside of it

Easily sneaks up behind people

Just pops up randomly

Good at hiding

Can somehow fit into small spaces

Very flexible

Double jointed

Left handed

Anger is almost always silent; plots revenge

Very vengeful

Holds grudges

Has an amazing memory

Can think on her feet

Prefers routine

Can be very blunt

Not great at telling lies, tells half truths instead

Got A's and B's in school

Book smart, but not street smart

Had two black cats named Misery and Misfortune

Has befriended the crows by feeding them

The crows bring them little trinkets

Loves animals, especially the spooky ones (cats, rats, bats, owls, wolves, ravens, crows, snakes, spiders, moths, centipedes, as well as possums)

Favorite animal is bunnies

Favorite movie is The Ring

Favorite season is fall

Favorite holiday is Halloween

Full on cosplays for Halloween

Cosplays outside of Halloween as well

Loves candy and other sweets

Hates the taste of alcohol and coffee

Likes tea

Has taken edibles multiple times before

Often slams things without meaning to

Uses both slang and complicated vocabulary

Switches between using proper punctuation, capitalization, and spelling and ignoring it when posting as it's more chaotic

Tumblr shitposter

Made vines when it was still around

Can play the guitar (bass and electric) and piano

Doesn't quite know how to dance

Good at gardening

Offered to take care of the hotel's rose garden after seeing its neglected state

Is now the hotel gardener

Horrible at cooking

A literal hazard in the kitchen

Bad luck seems to follow them when she cooks

The food itself tastes either mediocre or terrible

Collects weird t-shirts

Humor is a mix of dark and surreal

Has a maniacal laugh

Stims by pacing, flapping hands, rocking, cracking neck (neg), and/or bouncing leg

Sleeps with arms crossed over their chest like a vampire (taught herself to do that as a kid and it became a habit)

Sleepwalks sometimes

Even creepier when they sleepwalk

Wanders around, stares at walls, crawls, says cryptic things, laughs

As a human she had brown hair that reached their back, pale skin, and occult blue eyes. She was 6'0, 6'5 with platforms. They wore a long black trenchcoat that reached the floor and a black T-shirt with a ghost on it. (The rest of her outfit was the same.)

Their full demon form has hollow black shadowy holes instead of eyes, a slit mouth that spans her entire face, long claws, and is 8 feet tall with long limbs and an echoing voice

Voice also echoes when being intense

Found the hotel shortly after arriving in hell. (Literally was just wandering around and stumbled upon it. They stopped to admire the little details, Vaggie noticed her through the window, Charlie went down to greet them, and the rest is history.)

Got a double degree in creative writing and digital art

Thinks she's pretty in a haunting way

Creative when it comes to insults and threats

Has an axe-shaped electric guitar and an axe-shaped bass guitar (literally Marceline's bass and Marshall's guitar)

VERY progressive

High Empathy

Music tastes consist of gothic rock, alt rock, punk rock, electric swing, and horror soundtracks

Parents introduced them to gothic rock and punk rock

Pirates movies

Thinks she is unlovable

Has trust issues

Assumes the worst in people

Despite this, you can win their trust by listening to her infodump

Never sits correctly

Feet on the couch, perching on the armrests or even back, crouching on the floor

Grew up agonistic

Dabbles in witchcraft (séances, tarot readings, tea leaf readings, and as a kid curses)

Always carries around a kitchen knife

Had a bobcut with bangs as a kid and wore the school uniform (white button up, black skirt, black tie) with black combat boots, black and white striped stockings, her black trenchcoat, and sharpie eyeliner

Used to explore abandoned places

Loyal to their friends

Cannot flirt or tell when someone is flirting with her to save their life

1920's outfit is a black below the knee dress with long cuffed sleeves, a grey sash, and a white collar with a white ribbon tied around it and small black heeled shoes with a strap.

Bedwear is a plain white short sleeved nightgown with her striped stockings

Never told their parents about being bullied because she didn't want them to worry

Told the teachers about being bullied but they ignored them, even when her parents got involved

Doesn't trust authority because of that

By the time they finally told her parents it was too late to do anything so they just had to push through until graduation

Killed her bullies because she couldn't live knowing they got away with what they did

Wore a ghostface costume to kill their bullies

Decided to name herself Lore because it "fits my new form"

Smells like freshly turned soil

Voice claim: Jamie from The Haunting of Bly Manor

Singing voice claim: Chibi from The Birthday Massacre/Ashley Serena/Emily Rohm

Relationships:

Alastor:

Best friends

He loves how weird she is

The only time he'll watch movies is with them

She likes showing him her favorite horror movies and infodumping afterwards

He likes spending time with her

Both have crushes on each other (He's uniromantic asexual; died at 29)

Lore assumes it's one-sided, thinking she's undateable

And Alastor loves them... Way too much

To the point of obsession

Drags her around everywhere

Definitely stalks them using his shadow

Watches her sleep

Will kidnap them eventually

Partly because he wants to keep her safe and partly because he wants them all to himself

Lore will be angry, scared, but also kinda into it (check feels unlovable)

Will probably try to make her become a cannibal like him, either by sneaking demon meat into their food, forcing her, or some other means

Charlie

One of their first friends

Sees that Lore is actually a kind person

Lore is not entirely sure her plan will work, but is supportive because that's what best friends do

Anyone who messes with her will face her wrath

Vaggie

One of their first friends

Accepts her weirdness as just who they are

Thinks each other are cool

Listen to goth music together sometimes

Has a bad feeling about Alastor's friendship with her

Angel

Creeped out by them

One of her main scaring targets

When he first met them he thought she was a ghost

Admires their chaoticness though

Will grow closer

In pain with her obliviousness with Al

Husk

Brushes them off as just a weird kid

A little worried about her friendship with Alastor

Nifty

Different flavors of weird

Forever confused about their gender

Hates when she tracks dirt in

Ships them and Alastor

Once wrote a fanfic about the two and showed her

It was smut

Lore enjoys her weird moments and finds her endearing

Sir Pentious

Scaring victim number two

Did not like him

Had not completely forgiven him for trying to betray them and kill them twice until he sacrificed himself

Katie Killjoy

Organized his funeral

Hates her

Reminds them of her old bullies

Slashed her tires after the interview

Tom Trench

Hates him because he's Katie's accomplice

Was the one that set him on fire (molotov cocktail)

Since Charlie was already taking care of Katie they went after him instead

Vox

At first did not understand why Alastor like her

Until he dug around online and realized "Ah... They're weird as shit nevermind."

Lore hates them because Alastor hates them

"My friends enemies are my enemies" type shit

Valentino

Hates him after Charlie told her what she saw at the studio

Had to hold themself back from fighting him after seeing him in the club

Lucifer

Always wanted to meet him

Still feels bad Charlie doesn't have a good relationship with him

Glad he's at least trying to fix it

Cherri Bomb

Lore brought weed gummies during their night out so she likes her

Rosie

Finds them charming

Endorses Alastor's obsession

Scene Inserts:

Adam

Hates him for attacking the Hotel and hurting her friends

Glad he's dead

Would dance on his grave if he had one

Lute

Also hates her for attacking the hotel and hurting her friends

Especially for killing Dazzle

Would NOT have shown mercy like Vaggie did

Pilot

Vaggie: It's all highlighted.

(Lore appears behind Vaggie, going from invisible to visible)

Lore: I think, you should scrap this, and just say Happy Hotel over and over again like a subliminal message.

Charlie: I'll just have to resort to my impeccable improv skills!

Lore: She does improv?

Charlie: Well, there's my friend Lore.

(The camera pans to Lore. She hisses.)

(The camera pans back to Charlie, slightly weirded out.)

Charlie: And someone named... Angel Dust.

Tom: WHY WON'T ANYONE HELP ME

(Lore learns into the frame, holding a lighter and smirking)

(Silence after argument in limo.)

Lore: I set a man on fire.

(The three turn and stare at her.)

Alastor: What do you do my dear?

Lore: Fester.

Charlie: She's the gardener.

Alastor: My what an intriguing lady you are.

Lore: I'm not a lady I'm a creature.

Vaggie: They mean she's Nonbinary.

(Alastor raises his eyebrow.)

Vaggie: Like identifies outside the gender binary.

Alastor: Ah! How delightfully chaotic!

Alastor: And what can you do my effeminate fellow?

Angel: I can suck ya dick.

Alastor: Ha! No.

Episode 1

Alastor: Founded five days ago by Lucifer's naive daughter Charlotte Morningstar!

Alastor: Enjoy riveting conversation with one of our two (Lore emerges behind the couch) residents! Wow!

Angel: We're in Hell toots. That's kinda the end of the road, ain't it?

Lore: He's right. Death is the end of the road. One long, winding road.

Angel: Why?

Episode 2

Alastor: Well, it looks as though I need a visit to the tailor. Lore, care to accompany me?

Lore: I don't like people.

Alastor: Then you'll only have to interact with me! (Loops his arm around hers) Best of luck, chums!

(After Stayed Gone)

Lore: Why am I here?

Alastor: Moral support!

Charlie: So... This is the bar and the bartender. And here is the garden and the gardener!

Lore: The roses aren't ready to be cut yet. If I find that you cut any, I will cut your fucking hands off your pathetic little body.

Charlie: She's joking.

Lore: No I'm not.

Vaggie: This is going to be your whole day! (Claps)

Lore: My turn:

Hello,

my name is Lore

I like blood

And guts and gore

Charlie: That's enough-

Lore: Reality is fake

Someone's going to die

In the lake

Vaggie: I'm sorry what.

Lore: You heard me.

Episode 3

Vaggie: Wow, you are slimy.

Lore: Like a worm. But not a cute one.

Episode 4

Husk: She was the weird kid who was bullied no matter how hard they tried to fit in, so she decided to just own it and commit to the title. Also never orders alcohol. And Nifty-

(After Charlie leaves)

(Silence)

Lore: You watch us sleep?

Pentious: Oh, not you. Alastor already watches you sleep.

Lore: He what.

Episode 5

Charlie: And this is Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, and Lore, our guests!

Sir Pentious: Your Majesty!!!

Angel: Hey, you short king.

Lore: This is my childhood dream come true.

(After explaining Alastor's backstory)

Lore: Sick.

Episode 7

Vaggie: They can be killed.

Lore: (standing up) I KNEW IT! (Sits back down, crossing arms and looking smug) There's almost always a weakness.

Sir Pentious: What? Do you think we're a bunch of pusssssies?

Lore: You two are my (smiles) best friends. You can't get rid of me that easily.

Husk: I just got used to you guys.

Episode 8

Alastor: It's been a surprising thrill to witness these wayward souls find connection. Always makes one sentimental, aye Niffty?

Niffty: I really like them, Alastor. They let me put on roach puppet shows without booing!

Lore: You know it's funny. Hell is the only place I was actually able to make friends.

Alastor: Ahh, an enjoyable collective to be around. I admit one could get accustomed.

Niffty: I dub thee, king roach!

Alastor: Oh, to understand your twisted little mind. Hahaha....

(They all laugh.)

Lore: Never change Niffty. Hey, can I be the roach jester?

Alastor: Hmm. I'd rather rule alongside you.

(He grabs her hand and kisses it.)

Lore: Oh.

(Beginning of battle)

Lore: Come and get me you fucking tar-and-feathered hypocritical bitches in a box! See how a ghost defends its haunt.

(Brandishes knives with hair)

Vaggie: New coat of paint!

Lore: New flowers

Husk: New lights across the marquee

Charlie, Vaggie, Lore, Husk: With a little sorcery

PLEASE feel free to send me asks about them!!!

[ragingstillness]

Ok so I just finished the episodes and by a cruel twist of fate I once again have to work in the morning so here’s my quick thoughts:

Calypso’s bday was clearly a pride celebration and I love that for them

I actually picked up on it surprisingly fast, like literally when Frenchie left the galley to go prepare for the party

Izzy’s voice is of course always tops, we knew Con could sing but man he really belted it this episode

Ned Low is a dick and deserved what he got

I now stan Hellcat Maggie

Not surprised murder turns Stede on, frankly it was smtg I was always expecting

While their previous two kisses have been sweet and romantic I was happy to see one with some passion

Izzy, Jim, and Wee John in drag mean everything to me

Poor Roach, he seemed to be enjoying his torture

Wish we’d seen whatever torture there was that “turned Izzy on” lol

Can confirm, people who play violin are assholes (source: I am a violinist) /jk

Ngl the episode felt a tiny bit rushed idk if that was just me

Ricky’s a dick and his speech immediately made me think of a gay priest who is denying himself and condemning homosexuality (for which specific priest, just take your pick there are a lot of them)

As much as I like Ed trying to encourage Stede not to “kill in cold blood” I think that ship has totally sailed on both their parts. Even if you don’t claim Stede’s killing of the Badmintons as “cold blood” he did totally set that ship of French aristocrats on fire

I like that the show’s acknowledging that jumping right into sex especially after trauma is not necessarily a good idea no matter how much some part of my shipper heart is like ugh why are they fighting again let them be happy

The second episode in particular Stede spends kind of acting like a dick and knowing Djenks and his team this is on purpose but it’s still unpleasant to watch

I feel like Stede’s fallen into the trap of now that he’s back with Ed he thinks everything is going to be fine and he’s turned Ed into this idealized figure again and is ignoring the actual things that Ed says

That being said, I do agree with him that Ed is being a coward by running off to become a fisherman as if he wasn’t a bloodthirsty pirate who still hasn’t made up for his actions to the crew.

Ed becoming a fisherman is clearly a “I was happy fishing for the first time in a long time I want to hold onto that feeling” decision

Essentially both Ed and Stede are running from their faults and pasts and I think they need to talk it out

Ed seems to be trying to say to Stede that he wants to have time to love himself before falling headlong into a relationship but he missed the mark a bit

Izzy briefly plays Lucius’ role in congratulating them on sleeping together and giving Stede advise

It fits him like an over large suit but I understand they needed a character to fill that role and Lucius has his own plotline now

I do think Izzy is being remarkably calm and that might not last, he’s probably bottling it up

Has the Jim/Olu/Archie polycule expanded to include Zheng? I’m so confused by it all. I don’t disapprove in any way I just feel like some of the relationships in that square are qpps and some are romantic and I can’t really nail down which is which

Fang and Roach bonding I kind of ship them a little

The Paper-azzi hysterical

Jackie’s new outfit: yes queen

The Swede’s new look: bitchin’

I feel like most of the cast have gotten hotter over the season. Shows what a few modifications in costuming can do (note, I said in costuming not in body or face or anything I’m not shaming anyone)

At one point I straight up thought Izzy was a ghost the way he kept popping up near Stede and Ed and giving commentary, idk if that was intentional

Izzy is still dealing with his alcoholism and I’m glad they didn’t pretend that’d be solved in a few days

RIP Ed’s leathers, you were hot

I knew there was smtg up with those clocks but I thought there was some sort of secret message in them not that they’d explode. That might be just because I considered it an anachronism. The earliest I can find evidence of a time bomb with a little googling is 1776 but that may be wrong

Who was firing on the republic? Was it Ricky or did the bombs somehow set off the canons on Zheng’s ships?

Stede deserved the beat down he got he was being a misogynistic dick

Also, it’s about time Stede detached from Ed long enough to realize that he hasn’t spent enough quality time with his crew to get them to stay with him when there are other options

Not surprised Ed didn’t kill Ned Low but a little surprised Izzy didn’t, as Izzy’s canonically killed everyone Ed couldn’t

Izzy mentioning how Ed shot him when he told him he loved him and Stede responding as if he’d heard that before I would have loved to see that scene

In general these two episodes felt a little rushed but idk if I’m perceiving that correctly I’m too tired

[edensrose]

hi darling <3 could I request vamp! Tilion with the "you're not just the friendly gentleman/lady, are you?" prompt and a mortal reader who's managed to get into where Telperion is kept? (whether she's a spy, is there for personal reasons or straight up lost lol, Tilion finds her) 👀👀

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ tilion ⠀〳 human!reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. long have you awaited this day — where you would reach your goal and avenge your loved one. but it seems that a new friend of yours has other plans. ( blood mention ៸៸ biting ៸៸ mentions of humans used as blood bags ៸៸ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌! 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 )

· ⊰ note. to kick off the vampire au we have a request from my darling writing wife<3 hope you enjoy!

˙ ˖ lore post ៸៸ character sheet ៸៸ masterlist

Humans and vampires were like oil and water. 

Never mixing, and sure as hell not friends. 

Yet on the rare occasion, humans would mingle in the affairs of night crawlers. Rather, vampires in the Royal Court would prefer to have a walking blood bag than venture out into the world to feast on the son of man. Smaller villages that were well aware of their existence and feared them most, eventually came up with a solution: to offer a handful of young, healthy, sons and daughters — to not only live in the Court and be their breakfasts, lunches and suppers — but to also aid vampires in the more mundane, tedious affairs of the human world. 

When you turned the appropriate age of adulthood your village had roped you into the decade’s next supply for their blood-thirsty overlords and shipped you off to the palace. Ebony stone and lavish, candle-lit hallways awaited you. Paintings of old, sculptures of the talented and decorations of the rich adorned the interior of their domain. You expected something large, of course, but this was on a whole other level. Magnificent in every right. A part of you even began to believe that this was a hoax, a mere underhanded arrangement for your village to sell off a few of their own every ten years for wealth. Now that you stood before the red carpets, silver accents and crimson, beady eyes; you knew in your heart that this was reality. 

Perfect. 

You would merely bow your head and curtsey before the vampires — yet as you face the spruce-wood floors, your smile would remain inconceivable. 

Never, you promise. 

Never will these demons know of your true intentions here. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⊱· ❀ ·⊰

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You certainly took your time.’’ 

A voice dripping honey and laced with playfulness tickles your eardrums. You glance up from your ink and parchment briefly to force a smile onto your lips. Or at least, you tell yourself it is forced as you discreetly slip a note into the drawer of your desk.

“Tilion,’’ you sigh with jesting exasperation and turn back to your quill. “You know, for a royal guard, you certainly have too much time on your hands. Slacking off, are you?” You could feel the roll of his eyes and his chuckle brought forth a swell of warmth in your chest. Goosebumps rise on your skin when cold arms wrap around your shoulders and silvery strands tickle your cheek. “Is it a crime to check up on my favourite human?” 

Favourite human. A title you had earned throughout your stay here. Tilion was different from his kin. Looney, comedic relief and far from the stern faces and constipated looks that other vampires around the palace wore like silver jewellery. You quickly gained favour from the higher-ups due to your ability to read and write, thus, you were sent on various tasks and missions into the human world. Documenting what you saw and relaying important information — apart from your default blood bag status. 

The first time you were bitten was absolute agony. Unfortunately for you, you caught the eye of a pureblood because of your pretty face and demeanour. You would quickly learn the difference between the fangs of a pureblood and their lesser selves: halfbloods. 

Perhaps you should be grateful for the title of favourite human to Tilion. You rarely faced the threat of his fangs. Initially, you assumed that his friendship was merely a ploy. A small game with his food before he sunk his teeth in. Needless to say, you were pleasantly surprised when the bubbly, sometimes goofy vampire only sought your companionship. It lessened the load of your ‘duties’.

And made your job so much easier. 

“What brings you here today?’’ You question before turning back to your note-taking. Scribbling down accounts of your short time in the human world. From the corner of your eye you observe his mannerisms, hoping that whatever it is that he was here for, it wouldn’t take too long. Let alone result in him plopping himself onto your desk and rambling on for hours. Whilst most nights you would entertain him, today was different. You had other work to attend to. Free from the watchful eyes of any vampire. 

A sacrifice, that is what you and the other humans were dubbed. Little did they know that one particular sacrifice would lead to spilt blood, and ironically, not that of the blood bags. 

Long had you been aware of the existence of vampires — and long have you craved vengeance for their reign of terror on the mortal world. Especially after the passing of your beloved friend to their powerful, cruel clutches. You worked hard to ensure that you were the main pick of the village for that decade’s batch of humans. Wormed your way into the palace and sucked up every ounce of pain that you were put through in order to make it to where you sat now. A map, that you deciphered, in your drawer that would lead you to their most revered possession: Telperion 

Tilion was not apart of the equation. An unknown variable that threw your plans into disarray. Not that he ever discovered your true intentions, rather, you could not bring yourself to hurt him. A conflict of interest. You wished to curse yourself until you were blue in the face. 

Maybe there is a way, you keep telling yourself as you allow him to chatter on about anything and everything interesting that occurred within the palace walls that week. ‘Maybe he is different.’

“Well, let me not take up too much of your time, seems like you are quite dazed.’’ Those words snap you out of your mini monologue and you habitually bite your lip. “Forgive me,’’ you sigh. “Suppose you can say I am far from energetic after today’s outing.’’ His smile tells you that all is well and he unwraps his arms from around you. Even if he was colder than ice, the absence of his touch left you chiller. Much like the ravenous winter that struck the land around the palace. 

“Rest today. If all is well, I will pay you a visit tomorrow.’’ His lips purse. “Well, if Eönwë has nothing planned for me. You know what a pest he can be.’’ Silver eyes roll to the chandelier strung from the ceiling. You give him a faint smile accompanied by a wave before he leaves you alone in your room once again. 

‘He is different.’

You already feel the headache settling itself between your nerves and you groan with fingers rubbing at your temples. Perhaps this is why vampires often got the job done without fail. They never grant themselves the luxury of forming meaningful relationships, at least from what you have observed. Unlike humans, who rely on their signature trait for survival: community. 

Curses fly from beneath your breath as you fish out the intricately drawn map and splay it over your desk. Bringing a candle nearby to ease the strain of your eyes, you follow the path that you can only hope will bring you one step closer to your goal. First, Telperion — and soon, the downfall of all vampires. 

‘East-wing, stay centre. The guards should be controlling the west once the moon is three-quarters through its course. Time it right and it should lead the way.’ 

Praying to whatever holy being might be listening, you once more fall back on your greatest strength: intelligence — before rolling up the map and burning it to ashes with the very candle in your hand. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⊱· ❀ ·⊰

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You would thank your lucky stars, but you knew that this was far from luck. This was skill. Skill that you sharpened like a blade. Knowledge and intellect were your weapons as you discreetly slink your way through the palace. 

Dawn would soon break through the sky, a sign for most vampires to call it a day. Even with their advanced energy and disregard for sleep, many enjoyed taking a few hours between the onset of dawn and morning to give themselves a break. A schedule you had memorised like the back of your hand. As you did the guard routine. 

Following the last shine of the moon that decorated the stone walls, you mind any creaking tiles and keep to the shadows. Avoiding windows that might send a breeze and cast your scent to the nearest guard in the vicinity. Many months had you planned this, and you would be a fool to let any possible contingency slip through the cracks. 

You could already catch glimmers of its shimmering leaves from the arch of an opening that lay before you at the far end of the hallway. Wouldn’t they guard it well? Many would ask. Vampires worshipped the tree, regardless of their rank. However, this specific wing of the palace was forbidden to humans such as yourself. Were you to be spotted, one can only assume a bloody outcome. Favoured or not. 

Heart in your throat, hands trembling at the taste of victory on your tongue — you approach the stone arch and slip out into the mini courtyard that awaited you. A ceiling was missing from above, allowing the power of the moon to shine down onto the area. Your lips purse for a moment. Was that the use of masking magic? You have never seen an opening from outside of the palace. After that brief spout of curiosity, you lower your gaze at last.

Lo and behold, the legend was true. Rooted at the centre, tall, mighty yet beautiful in every right stood the tree from the tales you read of in story books. Your eyes dazzle with the magnificence of silver that shimmers before you. Leaves, fruit, blossoms and trunk — all were blessed by the moon and shone with its pride. 

Telperion, the silver tree. 

Whether the gleam on your face was from the tree or the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that overflowed from within, you know not. After all this time, you are one step closer to your goal. Your friend’s name is sweet on your tongue for the first time in years as you whisper it into the air. Renewing your silent vow of avenging them. 

“Far from energetic, you say? Might I assume that you are sleepwalking, then?”

Nerves tensing. Hair standing. Your heart plummets into your stomach when a voice graces your ears. The same honeyed voice of the one you held dearest. The light of the tree means nothing to you anymore. Overtaken by the shadow that consumes the pebble floor beneath you and renders your body frozen. 

Unknown variable. . . No. 

A miscalculation. 

Nails dig into your palms as the presence that once brought you comfort finds itself in front of you. Seering dread throughout each of your nerves. Any warmth was now replaced by the chill of realisation — and the frostiness of failure. Betrayal. 

You sight those silver strands that you adored despite your gaze fixated on the ground — even so, you refuse to glance up. Whether out of fear or shock. 

“Will you not look at me?”

The pebbles melt to bronze and you soon face pools of grey. The warmth that you sought was still there. Familiar even. But now you could see past its facade and into the truth of malice. Staring back at you like a predator staring down its prey. The fingers beneath your chin that raised your head slip upwards. Caressing the underneath of your jaw as Tilion basks in the glow of your expression. 

“What is wrong? You are usually so happy to see me.’’ His thumb brushes at your cheekbone, a habit that you fell in love with. Despite it all, your mouth runs dry — and you can all but stare at him in a dumbfounded state. “Could it be. . .” he trails, before nails bite into your soft skin and his arm yanks you nearer. Flushing your heat against his iciness. 

“Is that fear in your eyes?” 

Was that cruelty in his? 

For the entirety of your stay here, Tilion was the one that chipped away your general view of vampires. Beating down the notion that all of them were merciless, sadistic beings of the night. With his silly smile and shimmering eyes. Oh, he still smiled. Yet it was filled with malevolence; and while his eyes shimmered, you knew well that it was not from kindness. 

“You. . .’’ Your throat wishes to bleed. Still, you power through — gaze locked onto his. 

“You are not just the friendly gentleman, are you?’’

His bark of laughter answers your question if not for the stone that met your back after he slipped his hand down to your throat and collided you into the nearest wall. Instinctively, your fingers shoot to his wrist and claw at his tanned skin as your body kicks into a struggle. Alas, you are no match for a vampire. Let alone a pureblood. The rose petals in your pocket would do so much as tickle him. 

“That is what I love about your kind.’’ Tilion grins, bringing his face closer to your frightened one. “You are all so trusting. So eager for companionship. Even if you try to remain aloof or indifferent. Tell me, did you think we were friends?”

“N-N. . .o!” your pride attempts to choke. 

“That look in your eye tells me otherwise.’’ His devilish hum rings through your eardrums and you gasp at the tightening of his grip that nearly cuts off your air supply. “Ah, that is right. You saw me not as a friend. . .” Tears spill into your eyes at his next spout of cruel laughter as he beholds your wriggling form. He needn’t finish his sentence. You knew the truth — so did he. All along you thought you were fooling him. Little did you know that it was you who was played like a harp. 

“As the Guardian of Telperion. . .’’ Your eyes widen at the start of his words. The bishop!? You absolute fool — how couldn’t you piece it together sooner?

“I should report you to the royals. After all, analysing your research would tell even a dunce of what you have been up to. However. . .’’ Holding your breath, your heart pounds against its ribcage. Eager to tear through your chest and run from you. Save you from the agony that you knew would come. 

“I must say, I believe I deserve a reward for this.’’ You catch a glimpse of his hungry gaze directed at your pulse. No doubt it is ringing through his ears just as much as yours. To make matters worse, the digging of his nails into your flesh cuts into your skin and allows a trickle of blood to drip down your neck. “I have held back all these months. . . And believe me, it was far from easy.’’ 

His hair tickles your face as his tongue flushes against the crimson; trailing it along the thin streak on your skin. You feel his tremble, his shudder — you hear his groan. Even a speck of your blood left him ravenous. Yet summoning all the patience he could, he parts in the slightest. So that he can behold your fearful expression once more. 

“I should have my fun with you first.’’ 

It is the only clarity you will receive before a cry is ripped from the depths of your throat. As though hot metal tore through the softness of your flesh. His fangs reminded you of the true prowess of a pureblood. 

It mattered not how much you protested. Struggled. Screamed — or begged. His hands found your wrists like chains and his bite left limp against the wall. A slave to your own ambition and at the mercy of his hunger. 

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[solrika]

I know the GI is dead by the time "The Honorable Ones" happens, but what's fanfic for if not fudging canon? Inspired by this picture of vamp!Kallus after Bahryn.

~

The last thing Kallus remembered was blinking up at the too-bright operating lights, claws absently twitching against white sheets. Then–the briefest moment of quiet dark. Consciousness ebbed in like waves lapping against the Fortress Inquisitorious–sudden, jarring jerks, like cold water in your face. 

There were fingers in his hair.

Terror had him sitting up past tearing pain, twisting to look–and just as fast, calm swept through his mind, breaking like sunlight over the ocean. He sagged, caught himself against a narrow shoulder. Muttered, “Pedaari?”

“Hound.”

Kallus let himself be eased down against the pillows. Tonguing at his lip–his fangs had managed to draw blood–he glanced around. They were in a private room, with walls and a door, instead of the flimsy privacy of curtains that he’d come to expect from the medical bay. “What’s going on?”

“You gave the doctors quite a scare.” Pedaari pushed the hair back off his forehead, and this time, Kallus leant into the touch. 

“Oh?”

“You coded three times.” The corner of Pedaari’s lip curled up in the barest snarl. “Incompetents, unable to handle a basic surgery. You’re fortunate I brought Inquisitorious medics with me.” 

Kallus frowned, reflexively reaching up to rub at his chest. He found new bandages, sticky with bacta. A quick glance at his IV bag confirmed his guess. There were so many painkillers swimming in the solution, and even kolto; they must have cracked his ribcage open again.“I–my heart stopped? From a leg surgery?” 

“Like I said.” The snarl became more pronounced. “Incompetents.” 

Kallus hummed assent, vaguely upset that he’d essentially died three times and hadn’t noticed at all. Another glance around the room failed to turn up any clues as to where they were, and he asked, “Are we still on Konstantin’s ship?”

“Regrettably, yes.” Pedaari’s eyes glinted in a way that spelled trouble for the admiral. “I still have business with him.” 

Letting his eyes slip closed, Kallus muttered, “You’re not allowed to kill him.”

“He almost killed you,” Pedaari hissed. 

“Ah.” Allowing himself a grimace, Kallus said, “So you heard about Bahryn.” By now, he should have been used to the way the air thickened in response to Pedaari’s anger. It still made a nervous shiver shoot down his spine. Wanting to placate, and not entirely sure why, he added, “It turned out fine, Ped. A merchant ship picked me up.”

“Half-dead from the cold and with a ruined leg, yes.” 

“Half-alive.”

With a low growl, Pedaari retorted, “Until these butchers got their hands on you.” 

The pressure increased, and with it came a noticeable drop in temperature. Ribs tightening in sudden anxiety, Kallus managed a relatively calm, “Pedaari. If you keep this up, you’ll be the thing freezing me solid.” 

A beat of silence, in which Kallus refused to hold his breath. Then, grudgingly, “Apologies,” and the crushing pressure retreated. 

He felt Pedaari shift, and opened his eyes just in time to see the Inquisitor pick up a familiar folded pelt. Which meant– “You raided my room.” 

Pedaari simply blinked, as if the breach of privacy was nothing. Perhaps, to him, it was–he’d always seemed to treat Kallus and his property as an extension of his own belongings. Shaking out the pelt, the Inquisitor gave it an appraising look. “You’ve kept it well.”

Rolling his eyes, Kallus muttered, “Stop staring at the damn thing and cover me up.” 

“Impatient,” Pedaari scolded, but he leant back in, tucking the fur around Kallus’ body. 

Kallus let himself be moved, and then– “I’m still cold.”

“Such ingratitude.” Pedaari grinned, though, flicking up a corner of the blankets. And then waited, damn him. 

Usually, Kallus could have out-stubborned him, but today he was sore and still had tiredness dogging his mind. It wasn’t worth their usual dance. With a huff, he relented. “Oh, you–just get in.” 

It was a tricky fit, considering Kallus’ shoulders and Pedaari’s armor, but one they’d made before in much less agreeable places. He’d grown used to the way Pedaari’s belt jabbed him in the stomach. Pedaari, in turn, had grown used to the prick of claws between armor plates, and the jut of Kallus’ nose against his neck. 

They settled into place, Pedaari resettling the fur more securely around Kallus’ shoulders, carefully slipping a pillow behind his back. What had to be a touch of the Force kept his ruined ribcage a few breaths from crushing itself against the chestplate of Pedaari’s armor. Kallus squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden prick of tears. He had felt warmth since the ice moon, of course, had come back and turned the heater on high in his tiny room. Somehow, though, this felt–

Kallus pressed himself further into the strip of skin above Pedaari’s collar. 

Softly, stroking up his back, Pedaari asked, “Are you hungry?” 

Into his neck, “Usually you make me earn it.”

“Under the circumstances,” and Pedaari’s hand swept up to hold the nape of Kallus’ neck, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I think you’ve done enough.” 

Kallus opened his mouth, lapped against hot skin just to feel the twitch of fingers against his spine. Murmured, “How did you know?”

“Mm?” 

“That I was—” he swallowed around the idea of dying, unconscious and unable to stop it. Like the ice moon, but worse, because at least then he’d been awake. “That I needed help.”  “I told you, Hound.” Pedaari squeezed again, a little harder. Obeying the implicit command, Kallus bit, groaning softly as his mouth filled with blood. It was always so sweet. “I take care of what’s mine.”

[expt12144]

(   michael malarkey.  135.  vampire.   )   LORENZO "ENZO" ST. JOHN,  you’ve been haunting mystic falls’ streets with your desire to GET EVEN.  it’s only a matter of time before your CYNICAL & VIOLENT tendencies prove to be your own undoing; unless your CHARISMATIC & HOPEFUL nature helps you obtain allies before it’s too late. 

what are your character’s goals? do they have any present allegiances? baseline goal is always keep out from under the knife and stay off the table. that isn't always so easy though, so he fantasizes ways that would release all the tension that's built up. he trusts no one and will likely never, but he has a parasitic allegiance to wes maxfield; wearing many hats like errand boy, attack dog, petri dish, among others. enzo has been infected with a blood disease that needs treatment every week, or his veins clog and he cannot function. insurance policy! as long as he behaves and shows up for his treatments, he's allowed on his merry way. if there isn't a new virus to test, of course—but that can easily be remedied by bringing his doctor a new subject to play with instead.

what has your character been up to before/during the start of our group, at the beginning of tvd season 3? only recently has this latest insurance policy been implemented. stalking whitmore was boring but it was better than cold concrete & steel, he still enjoyed the handful of nights; few sprinkled over the last 6 months. they were purely to test the speed in which his polycythemia vera would progress, and how willing he would be to play. with the commotion in mystic falls, it is the perfect opportunity to do a longer field test, stretch his legs and wet his fangs. what he doesn't know is how intimately he's going to know the residents of the town, or how he'll manage his anger going forward.

what song(s) do you associate with your character? hide and seek by imogen heap

have you altered anything about your character’s canon? maggie doesn't exist as she was. i would love for another character (canon or oc) to have had a maggie-similar relationship with enzo. whether they were with augustine for benign research or what, they treated him with respect and then had to leave / chose to. open to all kinds of ideas! the main thing is i wanted to open up the timeframe in which this could have occured. enzo has been in captivity since 1943 and the whole damon thing happened '53-58. for reference. :)

do you have any other random headcanons worth mentioning? IT'S GAY, BABEY. enzo trauma bonded with damon and had it down down baD. he would have, and had, done anything for that man and when he needed him most, HE VANISHED. so all those really gay ass things he said in season 5? he was being fr fr they was pookies and damon up and ruined it.

is there anything you’re potentially interested in exploring romantically for your character / what do you, or could you, ship? i am here for anything, my bisexual disaster has shitty taste in men obviously and let's be real, he needs an outlet. soft? hard? evil or good, i don't matter, if anyone can get that close to him without him snapping his fangs at them, let's gooooo. i just wouldn't expect a lot of genuine emotional vulnerability, at least not EASY. he will pour his heart out to anyone willing to listen but it isn't necessarily an invite for you to scoop it up in your hands, you feel?

what sort of current or future connections/plots are you looking for? honestly, nothing specific. the main connections are obviously people will some sort of ties with augustine: elena gilbert, for example. daddy absolutely had to have done a lil zappity zap to enzo so he's going to struggle with that. i have zero idea how he's going to fit in these growing empires, so seeing where that goes and who scoops up and helps (or hurts??) enzo is going to be good. i would love the maggie-esque character. maybe other old cellmates?? how did they get out, idk.