#this looks hideous but please bear with me

[xiaolanhua]

ESTHER YU as Yun Wei Shan & ZHANG LING HE as Gong Zi Yu My Journey to You 云之羽 – TRAILER

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Soft Yandere! Clan Leader x Wife!Reader

warnings: self-hatred, insecure! reader, nudity, only brief mentions of nsfw themes

genre: fluff, comfort

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

You felt hot, flashing pain trickle down your throat to settle in the depth of your chest—lungs aching from the strain, face nearly purple as you held a bated breath, eyes squeezed shut, trying your best to avoid his gaze.

“I am sorry—” your voice was all but a meek squeak. “—I know this wasn't what you were expecting.” nimble fingers curled and tugged at your robes, keeping them positioned in front of you bare state—as you couldn't help but bow your head in utter shame, feeling the weight of your imperfections bear down on you.

The man hovering above your kneeling form remained silent, opting to assessing and scrutinizing you with the sharp whiplash of his gaze alone.

“I know—you're unhappy about this—my family will repay the trinkets your clan gifted us so graciously. Just please don't act rash and revoke the marriage—” you couldn't even finish uttering the words wobbling from your quivering lips before a sob ripped free from your throat and you just had to bury your face into the silkiness of your robes.

There was a sigh, then a long pause as you wailed, bashfully, scrambling to try and hide as much of your figure as possible, feeling slimy and dirty, hideous even, to have thrown yourself at the head of one of the biggest clan’s like a loose woman—as if you held your legs open for just anybody.

“Calm your nerves.” his voice was gruff, tinged with exsperation, as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your forehead to trace your hairline and find a rhythmic pattern petting your crown. “I will do no such thing, my bride, can't you even look at me?” he was kind, much too kind towards something as filthy as you were.

“I cannot—” you rasped between laboured breaths and high-pitched mewls muffled by your bloated bottom lip; bitten raw.

“You're upset. Why are you so saddened? What has caused you anguish? You're my wife—you do not need to lower your gaze in shame.” he whispered tentatively and before you knew it, he had peeled away the annoying piece of fabric obscuring your adorable sniffling face from him. “Do not cry. Our families expect of us to lay together—but if you fear it this much, we can wait. I can wait, my wife, why won't you calm?” chiffon, something akin to a gentle breeze caressing you—that’s what his voice was like, lulling you into a daze; sweet candy to lure you out of your hiding.

So, finally, scraping together all the courage you had, you raised your gaze to meet his, immediately regretting it, as the gentleness in his, so misdirected at something as ugly as you were, made you burst out into another fit of hysterics. “No, no, no. You're—you’re just too nice. Throwing myself at you like a whore—you deserve better. A refined lady. That's what you need and our clans expect—but I am no such thing. I—I am hideous, please, stop looking at me with such kindness. I apologise, husband, I am ruining the first night and I can't just stop and—”

“Breathe” you felt your cheek press into a chest and finally the furrow between your brows eased as you let something almost primal escape you, breaking down all too horribly until your head throbbed in an ache and your nose was stuffy and runny—and while you unleashed your inner demons, he was petting you, cooing at you, reminding you to stay grounded.

“My wife—” he chirped once it was over and you exhausted your capacity to cry any further, sinking into the soft covers of your martial bed like a heavy sack of sand, “I am blessed to be yours.” you felt him interlace his thick fingers with yours, brushing over the back of your hand subtly yet affectionately, as the moon filtered through the curtains to lay stripes of silver across you both.

“Can you even imagine how much I yearned for this very moment? To claim that you're mine, not just in spirit—with our two clans permanently intertwined? Since the day you passed by me at the market all my waking moments have been filled with longing for you. So how could you ever call the woman I love all these distasteful names?” he chased away all the bad thoughts as your numbed body laid against his, arms so powerful you were sure they could've squeezed you to death if he was lying, but it didn't seem so—not him, not the most perfect man you had ever met before, the one you knew deserved better than you.

“You're silent, my wife.” he paused. “It seems your husband lacks the ability to truly convince you of his feelings.” he pressed a kiss to your crown, sighing softly while scooping you closer to his warmth. "Do not fret. We have our entire lives left. If you cannot trust me yet, then I will teach you how—I will convince you of my earnest feelings, even if it takes a lifetime. Because—” he pressed a kiss to your forehead this time, staring down at your bare form beneath the covers, cuddled up in his arms, with tears smeared across your cheeks so beautifully. “ask and I would even bring down the moon for you.”

[urbabyalli]

“Cockroach”

ʚ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader

ʚ genre: crack, fluff

ʚ warnings: mentions of a cockroach and michael myers

ʚ summary: turns out your boyfriend mingyu, is afraid of tiny insects.

ʚ a/n: pictures below are from pinterest!

you were busy catching up on the latest episode of your favorite tv show when all of a sudden you heard a shriek coming from your bedroom. when you rush to stand up to investigate, your boyfriend, mingyu sprints through the door of your shared bedroom. the 6’2 man rushes to your side hiding behind you as if he was being chased by michael myers.

“y/n help me please please help me,” mingyu rambles. concerned, you ask mingyu what’s wrong.

“there’s a big- no a MASSIVE cockroach in there,” he tells you.

you chuckle, “mingyu there is no way you, a six foot tall man is afraid of a small bug.”

gyu looks at you like you’re crazy before pushing you into the room that apparently holds the most massive cockroach ever according to your boyfriend. you look around for the insect struggling to find it.

“where babe?” you look at him. he points to a corner in your room. you step closer to inspect, and spot roach about the size of a carrot slice. it was hideous you must admit, but it sure wasn’t something to be frightened of.

“oh my god gyu it’s not even that big” you say, “go get me one of those red solo cups and a piece of paper,” you order. he stares at the roach for another second before rushing out of the room to get your supplies.

the man comes running back into the room with your requested cup and paper. the insect had actually moved to another spot in the room which just so happened to be right next to where mingyu had just stepped in.

“babe, um don’t panic- but uh the thing is near your foot,” you awkwardly told him. he looks down and lets out an ear piercing scream. you were definitely not aware your man could let out a sound so loud.

he runs to jump on top of the bed screaming, “GET IT PLEASE, GET IT PLEASE!” you laugh before carefully taking the items out of his hands.

mingyu watches you intently as you capture the bug inside the red cup. you then slide the piece of paper under the cup. after successfully catching the cockroach, you casually walk outside and let it out.

“see gyu? it wasn’t that bad” you tell him.

“no, oh no it was that bad” he hops off the bed and embraces you in one of his big bear hugs. “thank you for saving my life baby.”

you lift you head to look at gyu and send him an ‘are you serious’ look. you playfully roll your eyes and say, “you’re so welcome.”

[inktopuck]

juno | quinn hughes social media au (pt.7)

pt.6

_quinnhughes

Liked by elblue06, yournamehughes and others

_quinnhughes mornings at home

colecaufield HOW IS SHE THIS BIG ALREADY

yournamehughes we give her fertilizer and water

l_hughes06 when quinn finally let you be the small spoon @yournamehughes

yournamehughes he chose rock instead of scissors

l_hughes06 classic quinn L

jackhughes how did you even get this picture

yournamelastname luke is staying in the guest bedroom and thought it would be cute to wake us up by jumping on our bed and getting this

jackhughes luke are you fucking 4

l_hughes06 i'm a 9 on a good day

matthew_tkachuk that bedhead is giving me baby fever

trevorzegras real, might have to start procreating too

_quinnhughes please don't

yournamehughes

Liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes and others

yournamehughes the hughes pout lives on

colecaufield genetics really got her good

jackhughes y/n please let me babysit please

yournamehughes why don't you ask your brother???

jackhughes he has a vendetta against me and you're the cool one

_quinnhughes you said she looked like a rat when she was born

yournamehughes in all fairness newborns do look like rats, quinn

_quinnhughes not ours!!!!

eliaspettersson this is the face he pulls when he gets to practice because he just wants to be with her 24/7

yournamehughes my heart 😭

trevorzegras the side eye has been mastered as well

jackhughes

Liked by elblue06, nicohischier and others

jackhughes WOOOOOOOOOOO #bellytime

yournamehughes PLEASE go slow and PLEASE be careful or i swear to god i will hunt you down and remove your hair follicle by follicle

jackhughes leave my hair out of this

trevorzegras meowwww momma bear get him

_quinnhughes dude bears do not say meow what did they teach you in kindergarten

l_hughes06 those sunglasses are hideous

jackhughes you're only saying that because i beat you to buying them

l_hughes06 false, they're fugly

jackhughes you're fugly

alexturcotte didn't you use to drive cole around like this

colecaufield oh my god we get it i'm small move on

yournamehughes

Liked by _quinnhughes, l_hughes06 and others

yournamehughes so it starts 😮‍💨 #hockeymom

_quinnhughes i love her so much

elblue06 little bit of a full circle moment ❤️

yournamehughes i am so glad she had you to teach her how to skate ❤️

elblue06 are you kidding me? i wasn't about to let my boys take the wheel on that, have you seen how much they fall on the ice 😫

jackhughes mom what the fuck 😭😭

elblue06 don't swear at me young man

jackhughes sorry mom

l_hughes06 tell her her godfather is very proud of her

bboeser belly is coming in today? YAY

_quinnhughes you're never this excited to see me

bboeser you're not a cute kid

eliaspettersson AHHHH BELLS!!! i got swedish candy in my stall

_quinnhughes no candy before dinner

eliaspettersson shut up old man

canucks we can't wait to see Isabel crush the old guys! #bellytime

pt.8

[lilac-witch]

Aesthete - Azriel x reader

masterlist

Summary: Azriel hates his hands, Y/n loves them. Meaning: "one having or affecting sensitivity to the beautiful, especially art" Word Count: 389 Warnings: None

------------

"I love your hands."

Azriel's eyes moved from the book in his hands to the female sitting across from him. She wasn't looking at him, her eyes focused solely on her own book.

Moments passed, and Azriel remained silent, unable to find the correct words to say. It was as though the air had been ripped from his lungs.

Y/n lifted her head to find him staring at her, his hazel eyes wide with shock and mouth slightly ajar.

"What's that look for?" Y/n asked with a grin, slowly shutting the book in her hands.

Azriel's jaw bobbed, but no words left his mouth.

"Cat got your tongue Az?"

"You said you loved my hands..."

Azriel felt as though he was a toddler, repeating the words he heard others saying. But the concept that this female could even stand to look at his hands, let alone love them, had him feeling at odds with himself.

He watched as Y/n tilted her head to the side, nose scrunched in confusion.

"Why wouldn't I love your hands?"

"They're hideous. They aren't soft like yours, and the scars..."

"I love your hands, Azriel, because they represent your strength. They represent the male who survived hate and anguish, and overcame all the challenges thrown his way."

Azriel felt water line his eyes, the tears threatening to fall down his cheeks as his mate continued.

"I love your hands because they bring me joy. Your hands hold the flowers you bring me whenever you return home from a mission. It's your hands that wipe away my tears when I'm sad. It's your hands that mine seek underneath the table during family dinners."

Azriel could only attempt to not gape at his mate, at the comforting words that left her perfect mouth.

"I love your hands because there isn't a part of you that I don't love," she finished, pushing herself up from her chair.

Azriel tracked her movements around the table, shifting his sitting position to accommodate her weight as she sat in his lap.

Her hands took his in her own, thumbs rubbing gently over his scars before she lifted his hands to her mouth, placing soft kisses upon the skin.

Her eyes met his, blazing with love and admiration, and in that moment, Azriel had never loved her more.

-----------

Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this post. It's the first of many to come. Please feel free to send me requests and post comments :) Also, please bear with me. I'm a full-time student so there may be times where posting isn't so consistent. But anyway, until next time ;)

[getonite]

YOU KNOW I LOOK TOO GOOD TO NOT BE HIDEOUS!

( synop. the voice inside of dazai's head swallows him whole ) contains. 1.8k+ wc — gn!reader ; dazai angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers ( hinted ), dazai gets a hug, alcoholism, drunk!dazai, pre-ada but post-pm, mention of vomit, dazai has a panic attack + cries, implied sh scars. ( the author is back on their torturing dazai bit ; this song literally belongs to him, okay. kinda pt2 to my prev dazai fic. )

"Dazai . . . "

"Dazai."

"OSAMU!"

Dazai twitches, awakened by the familiar sound of a yelling voice. "Huh?" his voice slurs as he sits up slowly, his body clearly in pain. You sniff, groaning the thick smell of alcohol stuck in his clothes. "Don't yell, hangover . . . " he grumbles. "Or maybe I'm still drunk."

"Get up," you say firmly, looking down at his slumped body resting against the wall.

He must've been downing drinks last night, though, at least not to the point where he couldn't figure his way home. Though, it seems he couldn't get into the house as his keys are resting in his hand and he's sitting onto the concrete next to the door.

"Huh? Wha—What, I'm getting- huh?"

You sigh and loop your arm underneath his, carefully pulling him inside of the house. You carefully grab the keys and set them on the rack near the door. Dazai let's out a drunken giggle as you pat him down, making sure that everything he left with is still with him.

"You are so fucking irresponsible," you hiss, tugging Oda's coat off of his lanky body. After forcing him to sit down, you walk to the kitchen to get him a much needed glass of water.

"Oh, coooome on," he hiccups, "You love me though.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, "Your lucky no one found you black out drunk like that and stole your shit. Or worse, killed you." You emphasize your woods, setting the cup ( you don't trust him with a glass ) of water in front of him. "Or have you forgotten, you just left the Port Mafia?"

Dazai sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at your statement.

After months of hiding, you'd think he'd get it. Maybe that he'd follow suit of you. Stay low, stay quiet, and say lawful. Apparently not. He can't even stay clean.

There's a thought of wanting to punch him, maybe it'll knock some sense into him you think. Taking a deep breath, you bend down, slipping off his shoes and putting them next to the door. "Drink your water, please," you grunt," I'll run you a bath."

"Mhm~!" Dazai sings. He's been mumbling and humming tunes, kicking his feet as you attempt to clean him up.

After a couple of minutes, you walk down the hallway toward him, "Alright, c'mon!" Dazai giggles, hurriedly getting up from his seat. Though you see the scene happen in slow motion. As if he had low iron ( which he probably does ), the blood rushed down towards his feet and he immediately stumbles, hanging onto the table as he tries to gain his bearings.

"Osam—" you pause when you see his puffed cheeks. You sigh and dash for the small trashcan in the bathroom and hold it below his mouth. And a second later, you hear the gross sound of vomit.

You rub his back, waiting for him to finish before you even attempt to bring him to the bathroom. You almost gag as you bring him carefully to the bathroom and strip his clothes, unraveling his bandages as well.

A wave of both guilt and disappointment passes through you as you see him flop into the filled bathtub. He's thin. New scars have appeared a top the old and ( incorrectly ) healed ones. He's too pale, his hair is back to the state it was when he first appeared, and he reeks of the bar. Even after your efforts, it seems as if you can't get him out of this slump. "Osamu . . . "

Dazai lifts his head, silently responding to your voice. All of the mumbling, sound effects, and humming are stopped as you carefully clean his skin.

"What is going on with you?" There's a deep frown on your face as you inspect his forearm. "No matter how much I try, you only clean yourself up when I make you."

"I work, you sit in a bar, come home and plop yourself on the couch without a fucking word," you hiss. Dazai flinches, though your not sure if it's your voice, or your movements. Regardless, a sense of guilt floods you and you take a deep breath.

"What is it?" You pause and look at him, "I know you're still recovering from Oda, I understand grief. But you refuse to talk about it and then drown yourself in alcohol, no matter what I do."

There's attempt to keep your voice calm and level, though he can hear it. The underlying emotions of annoyance, worry, and disbelief.

His eyes are downcast, focused on the water covering his lower half. They're dazed, pupils dilating as they stay focused on the one spot. "Osamu?" You frown, eyes flickering to study his face. Your face falls when you hear the quiet sound of his breathing.

His chest shakes as he breathing increases, his jaw shaking in an attempt to say words.

"Oh . . . Osamu," you mumble as tears swell in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and onto the arms resting in his lap. His arm flinches at the sting of the salty tear to the cuts on them.

You carefully get into the bathtub fully clothed behind him. He feels the warmth of your skin touch his as you carefully grab onto him, holding him close with pressure on his chest from your arms. "You're alright, I promise. It's okay," you whisper. His trembling hands touch your arms.

The silent tears continue to fall, the sound of the drops hitting the water, and his ragged breathing fill the air.

"Hey," you whisper, "Can you do something for me? The bathroom is kind of bland, but can you point out 5 things you see?" Dazai gulps, your voice sounding distant despite how you're hugged to him. Nevertheless, his eyes dart around the room, he attempts to find something to grab onto to.

His jaw ticks, "The- The shampoo," he croaks. You nod with a small smile growing on your face, "Good. It's okay, try to breathe," your hand rests against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. "Tell me some more . . . "

Dazai sniffs, chest stuttering rapidly, "Your— s-s- sweatpants." His grip tightens on your arm as more tears slide down his face. "That's it, can you give me another one?"

"The," he gulps, "Clock."

"Come on, you got it. Can you give me another one?"

His lips tremble, teeth clacking together in an uncomfortable pace. He sucks in a breath, vision fuzzy as he focuses on your voice. "Uhh, the toilet," he whimpers, glossy tears clouding his view before they spill. You nod, "Good job, one more."

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut before blinking, to search for something else. "Soap, the soap."

You help him attempt to breathe, "Good. Now breath, just feel the way my chest is moving."

For the next few minutes, you talk him through the 5-4-3-2-1 method until he's relaxed in your hold. The water has gone cold, and the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes cling to your skin. "How about . . . " you start, "I clean you up, then we judge what to do hm? You just— you need a good bath and some food."

Dazai nods silently. He's not entirely in the room. His eyes are unfocused as he feels your careful hands gliding along his skin, though everything feels muffled to him, the room beginning to blur once more before your hand slightly pulls him from his disassociate state.

You pull him from the tub, drying him off, cleaning his arms and legs, wrapping his wounds in bandages, and cutting his hair again. ( Making sure he brushes his teeth )

No matter how many times he attempts to tune in on your voice, he can't do it. Nor can he focus on anything. His hands don't feel like his hands. The table doesn't feel like it's familiar texture. The room doesn't smell right. He doesn't sink into the seat correctly. And the chopsticks send tingles through his hand. None of it feels real.

He feels your warm hand touching the back of his neck. "Breathe," you whisper, "Touch it again. Hold it and breathe, it'll feel right."

His world is fuzzy, except the static quiets when you touch him. He slowly eats, the entire time with you keeping a warm hand on him.

Dazai starts to wake up as you carry him to the bed, pulling him into your embrace. There's silence throughout the room, not a sound unleashed to part the quiet atmosphere. Well, until you speak. "Osamu . . . " you whisper, fingers dancing in his head of curls as you carefully think of what to say. "I love you."

The man's eyes widen at your soft words. "No matter which way you choose to interpret that. I do."

"Which is why I have this urge to take care of you. It's what drives to clean up your empty bottles and canned food. And it drives to wonder what can I do to help you?"

Dazai gulps, his fingers entangled in the fabric of your new shirt.

"Your two years of hiding are almost over," you whisper, "Im selfish, you've known that since we were kids. So please, just promise me something. I don't need your thoughts, your feelings, nothing. Just two words."

"Hm?" Dazai looks up at you, having a feeling as to what you'll say.

"I'll sound cringe," you roll your eyes with a faint smile on your face, "but—promise me you'll tell me when you feel like your falling again. Doesn't matter how much I have to do it, I'll pick you back up. Cut your hair, change your bandages, whatever. I just—I hate seeing you like that. You just have to tell me."

Dazai remains silent, simply laying against you.

"I sorry," he whispers. You sigh, "Don't say sorry, just promise. I said I'd protect you when we were little, I mean that, even if you are older than me ( by a year ). I just need you to promise."

"I promise," he whispers.

You smile and mess with the small hairs on the back of his neck. "Good."

A faint smile appears on Dazai's face, one you can't see of course. "Well, first order of buisness," you speak. Dazai frowns, looking up at you.

"You're banned from all bars."

"Hey!" Dazai shrieks, shooting up to look down at you.

"You throw up on me, I'll kill you," you say firmly.

"Thought you were supposed to protect me," Dazai frowns, with a teasing verse.

"I can knock some sense into you."

"Asshole."

"Mhm," you hum, pulling him back on top of you, making sure he's comfortable beneath the sheets. "Also . . . " He mumbles.

"You love me?"

A couple of months later, you walk with Dazai to the four-story building of your workplace. Before the man can even open his mouth as you walk through the door, "Do not flirt with her."

Dazai whines as you drag him upstairs and to a door that reads 'Armed Detective Agency.'

A hum leaves your lips as you walk in, lugging Dazai along by his collar. Your eyes drift to a grey-haired man in traditional Japanese clothing, a green haori draped over his kimono.

You throw Dazai forward, walking to the side of him.

"President, this is the one I was talking about."

the ending was kind of ass. i think i lost the concept a bit lol. i hope you appreciate this a little. reblogs r appreciated!!

[starryylies]

Simon with reader who’s insecure about her acne

‘ve been insecure about mine lately so :(

Insecure! Reader, lots of self deprecation, angst If you squint, lots of comfort, Simon is the best :)

Me looking at girls with Me getting angry cuz Clear skin: (っ◞‸◟c). it’s not fair: -`д´-

“S not fair ‘S not fair ‘S not fair!!! I’m so tired why do I have to break out again, ‘ve been good and ‘m even taking the meds it’s not fairrrrrr.”

You were yelling at yourself while looking in the bathroom mirror. Having acne was such a pain in the ass.

Every girl around you was gorgeous with perfect skin and even the girls with acne looked so beautiful compared to you but no you didn’t, in your eyes you looked hideous..

you were so tired of the self-deprecation, you just wanted it to stop but your mind took control and you jus’ couldn’t help but let that faucet open leading to your eyes pooling with tears as they dropped down with the weight of your insecurity.

You were already drowning deep inside your own thoughts that you didn’t hear the bathroom door open with your boyfriend Simon riley stepping in with a look of worry and urgency on his face.

Looking at you crying ripped his heart to shreds, he quickly made his way closer to you.

“Love please talk to me what’s happened?”

he is in a panicked state trying to figure out what made you so upset, he cant bear to see you in such a sad state.

“Baby stop crying please”, he pulls you closer wrapping you in his big burly arms as his body heat transfers to you giving you a sense of comfort that nobody can provide better than him.

“Ssi m I ugly? ‘Cuz I feel so icky and gross I hate it I hate it I hate my skin. I fucking hate it I wanna rip it off ‘m feeling so fucking shitty”, you cry out in arms.

Simon is taken aback by your statement, does he not make you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? Why’d you think you’re ugly? Youre the most attractive woman he’s laid eyes on.

Simon wraps you closer now using his left hand to tilt your chin up gently so he can have a good look at you.

“Si don’t!”

You protest trying to stop him from looking at your face, you feel so ashamed and conscious by letting him see you in such a vulnerable and sorry state

plus you don’t want him to see the reddish bumps protruding out on your skin.

“m not letting you hide your beautiful face from me love he mutters.”

“How could ya even think that. Youre the most beautiful fuckin’ woman alive in this entire fuckin planet, How could you think of ‘nythin less than that for yourself.”

“But my damn acne, it’s so gross, how d’you still like me.. ‘m not pretty”

Simon gives out a scoff in disbelief, “ya think acne will make me find you any less beautiful? Is that what ya think of me? Love your acne doesn’t matter.”

“No woman compares to you love how can you fuckin’ say that, you’re the most stunnin’ girl I know love he says in a hushed tone with his right hand rubbing your back.”

“Fuckin’ hell I get it all the time too and you still like me all the same ‘ight?”

You sniffle out, “ofcourse si but it’s different-“

Simon cuts you off, “No it’s not, you’re just thinkin’ a lot with that pretty lil’ head of yours love.”

“Love, stop thinkin’ so much, ‘m not finding ya any less beautiful just because of some stupid pimples” he gruffs out.

“Thank you si, thank you for sayin that”, you whisper out.

“I love you si” you mutter under your breath clinging closer to him, resting your head on his chest.

Simon pulls your head closer to his chest,

“nytime and love ya more sweetheart.”

＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊┈┈┈┈＊

(Ps: And sorry if this fic came out bad it’s my first time writing a whole thing, I’m sorry and it was rushed since I wrote it while crying.)

[wondersinwaynemanor]

they really think Damian and Lian were just in Damian's room to color and draw and play with Titus whenever they visit the Manor, but no. i mean sure, yes, at first it was like that.

not until Lian said, "Daddy, JayJay, Dami is helping me to be cool." and then she tried to kick the air, and she extended her arm as if to punch the air.

Roy and Jason exchanged looks.

at the Manor the next weekend, Jason pulls Damian outside his own room and leave Lian to color on the bed.

Damian, crosses his arms: You better not be wasting my time, Todd and Harper. What is this about?

Roy: Damian, what have you been teaching Lian?

Damian:

Jason: Don't give us that look, Brat. It doesn't work on me.

Damian, rolls his eyes: Tt. Nothing too complicated. Plus, she's meant to be trained to protect herself. When will you begin with the basics? When she's in the face of danger? I thought you imbeciles were knowledgeable.

Roy: We will be there to protect her. And we will choose when and how.

Jason: And in case you forgot, Brat, she's still six.

Damian, unimpressed: Oh, please. I was slowly introduced to weapons at her age. And look how skilled I came to be.

Jason, snorts: You mean skilled at being a brat?

Damian: You're a whole nuisance, Todd.

Lian, interrupts their conversation, running to where they are outside the room and shows the drawing she made to the three of them: Look, Daddy, JayJay and Dami, I drew myself as Robin.

Dick, who just pops out of nowhere behind them: Aww. As the first Robin, I say you would look so badass, Pumpkin.

Roy, whispers: Dick, don't encourage her.

Jason starts to push Dick, but that just gives Dick the chance to grab his arm and pull him for a bear hug. Jason wiggles his way out of it.

Roy, smiles and touches one of Lian's pigtails: What a beautiful drawing, Princess.

Jason, smiles softly at her: Good job, Princess.

Lian beams at them before going back inside the room.

Damian: At least she didn't draw herself as the Red Hood with that hideous helmet. She's even smarter than you, Todd.

Jason: Oh, you little sh-

Jason starts to charge for his little brother, but thankfully, Roy and Dick hold him back. Damian gives a light smirk, which reminds them of Bruce's, and follows Lian back inside the room.

Later that day

Jason: I hate to agree to the demon brat, but he's right. We have to teach her some basics at least.

Roy: Let's take one step at a time, kay, Jaybird? She just learned additions and subtractions.

Jason: When the time is right, of course. But for now-

Roy: - we will make sure that your brother doesn't teach anything too-

Jason: - demonic or bratty. I'll make sure of it.

Roy just rolls his eyes fondly at his boyfriend.

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

Forcing musical Erik to watch himself in the mirror as you touch him telling him how pretty he is how much you love him

I feel like the flames of hell are burning my face every time I read this-/pos

Should be noted that Erik uses an absolute abomination of mashup of what perspective he refers to himself in. (Changes from Erik to I, and from me to he, Etc.) Becomes especially noticeable the more he gets fucked out.

In truth, there wasn’t much that Erik could do to set you off, and even then he did his best to avoid performing acts that he thought would even slightly upset you, too obsessed with keeping his place as your good boy to try and perform any underhanded tactics that would earn him punishment. Sure, often occasionally you had to persuade Erik with kisses and soft touches to not kill anyone who glanced your way, (anytime he succeeded lost him all contact with you for a week which was enough for him to never kill unless he deemed it absolutely necessary,) but other than the occasional murder, Erik never truly upset you! Well, actually, there was one thing that never failed to shake you that Erik was quite guilty of, and that was that Erik seemed to constantly say horrendous things about himself, specifically his appearance.

Now, you would be the first to admit that Erik’s face was not unblemished, but you had made it clear to Erik many times how you thought he was handsome in his own right, how no matter what he would always belong to you and be your babydoll. You had also warned Erik two days ago that the next time he said such negative things about himself that you would take matters into your own hands, not necessarily that you would punish him, but you would be giving him a ‘correctional lesson’.

Of course, Erik had only managed to make it to this evening without making scorching comments in regards to his face.

———————————————————————————

Currently Erik was sobbing on top off you into your neck, his white half mask and wig having been knocked off his being as he burrowed himself into the crook of your shoulder.

“Maman, Erik doesn’t deserve your love! This lowly beast and his hideousness doesn’t deserve you! But I need you! You are all Erik needs, my angel, my beautiful, perfect, (Y/N)! And-and yet, I don’t deserve you! My horrid face taints your flawless being! But please, don’t leave your poor beast! Stay with me, maman, please!”

You weren’t really sure what had got Erik to this point, pleading with you as though you planned to leave him that very moment and never return. Thinking back to earlier, the only clue that something was off was before you made your presence known to Erik, he had been positively slamming his organ keys with a fury very few could ever feel. And yet still, as soon as he realized you were there he threw himself at your feet, bawling like a sinner trying to repent before their god. Of course his sudden movement had startled you, throwing you off balance and making you fall to the floor a few feet away from Erik. The disfigured man hadn’t even bothered to pick himself up to carry himself the rest of the way to you, instead opting to drag himself along the cold floor until he could curl up in your embrace and bury his face in your neck, blubbering about how good you were and how hideous he was, how he didn’t deserve you, which brings you to where you are now.

“Now what’s all this about, babydoll?”

Your hands instinctively went to cradle what of Erik’s head you could reach and trace lovingly over his spine, resulting in Erik wailing more and miserably sniffling.

“(Y/N), I love you! I love you so much it hurts! But you are an angel compared to this loathsome carcass of a man! A man who’s face is so twisted, his own mother couldn’t bear to look at or to love him! But Erik can’t let his (Y/N) go! He needs her! He needs her with him and for her to love him eternally! Please, love me, please! I will do anything!”

“Oh, Erik. I do love you! I love you more than anything I have ever loved before! I won’t leave you, you can trust that, and I most certainly will not stop loving you, babydoll.”

With Erik still clinging onto you like a lifeline, you somehow managed to sit up and prop yourself against a wall, Erik immediately scrambling to reposition himself into your lap. Instead of hiding his face away from you once more, Erik shakily grasped your hands with his own and brought them up to cup both of his cheeks, his tears slowly beginning to dry as your thumbs gently brush under his eyes, careful when pressing into the right side of his face.

As though noticing your cautiousness, Erik pressed your hands firmer against himself, craving any deep-pressure touch he could get from you. Slowly, gently, Erik lowered his forehead to yours and allowed himself to relax into your figure, his eyes fluttering shut as his breathing slowly started to even out.

“I love you, (Y/N)! Please, don’t ever leave me!”

It always amazed you how Erik could put such a strong plea infused with emotion into such a small whisper, without any of its tone being lost to you.

“I won’t leave you, babydoll, I promise. I love you too much to even consider it.”

That seemed to be all the go ahead Erik needed to start smothering you with kisses. They were soft and slow at first, Erik seemingly just relishing in the feeling of your lips against his, keeping you two connected for as long as he could before you both needed to breathe and pushing harder on your hands that still cupped his face to try and feel more of you. Erik seemingly could only take the soft kisses for so long before he needed more, pressing his swollen lips to yours with near bruising force, the kisses slowly becoming heated and fast paced.

Still making sure your hands were touching him, Erik removed your palms from his face and dragged them down his neck, over his chest, making sure your fingertips grazed over his ribs as he shuddered with pleasure before stopping at his hips and gently gripping your fingers so they clamped down on his body firmly, removing his digits from yours and wrapping his arms around your neck to bring himself closer to you.

Shifting himself so that his whole front was pressed snug against you, Erik parted his mouth and swiped his tongue against your lips. The instant you parted your own lips, Erik’s tongue went back into his mouth to try to coax yours into following, mentally pleading you to use the wet muscle to completely tangle with his own. The minute you complied with his silent begging, you were met with a moan so needy you almost thought Erik had cum. Tightening his arms around you, Erik let out breathy whines and worked his lips against yours with such a fevered passion you would have thought Erik was trying to merge your two beings into one. You gently pulled yourself away from him when you felt his erection rub against your stomach, chuckling as Erik let out a whimper and tried to reconnect your lips with his once more, only halting as one of your hands came up to cup his cheek again. Nudging his head into your palm like some sort of needy pet, Erik managed to get your thumb into his mouth as he peered down at you with half lidded eyes, already beginning to suck on the digit and still letting out small moans.

“Someone’s awfully eager. But…I did say that the next time my darling Erik talked so negatively about himself, I would have to give him a…little lesson.”

Taking your hand away from Erik’s face made him let out distressed whines, following after your hand until he physically couldn’t and trying to keep your thumb in his mouth for as long as possible.

“Non! Maman, I’m sorry! Erik wants to be your good boy! Don’t stop calling me your good boy! Please!”

Apparently the mere thought of losing his title as your good boy was enough to drive Erik to tears once more, his breathing becoming shallow as he looked at you with panicked eyes.

“Don’t worry babydoll, you’re still my good boy. But sometimes good boys need a little guidance, yeah?”

Slowly, Erik nodded his head in agreement. He always had adored it when you guided him! But…what if he messed up? What if you did end up not calling him a good boy? What if he was unable to pleasure you? What if-

Erik’s train of thought was cut off by your lips on his once more, a feeling of bliss overtaking his anxiety. Ending the kiss and pulling away, you spoke in a low tone.

“Alright babydoll, I’m going to give you two minutes to run to your room, strip down, and wait for me on the bed, alright? I’ll join you once the times up.”

Erik couldn’t help but steal another kiss before excitedly scurrying off to his room. Getting up once Erik was out of sight, you gently picked up his discarded mask and wig and laid them on his organ before making your way to the bathroom. Erik may have been too aroused to think about it, but since you were the one laying on the floor, your hands were probably dirty and needed to be cleaned before you touched Erik so intimately. Drying off your hands, you started to make your way to Erik.

The image that greeted you when you opened the door truly was a sight for sore eyes. Erik was sitting against the bed frame and had one of his hands upon his chest, stimulating his nipple, while the other teased the areas around his cock yet never quite actually touched it.

“Maman, maman please! Please!”

Erik was trying to keep his voice down, and with his eyes closed, you were one hundred percent certain that he was completely oblivious to your presence.

“I take it you’re ready then, sugar?”

Erik nearly jumped out of his skin at your voice suddenly echoing around his chambers, before nodding, climbing off of his bed, and stumbling towards you.

“Maman, may-may I undress you? Please? May maman’s good boy help her undress?”

“Of course, babydoll.”

Immediately Erik began to hastily remove all of the fabric from your figure until you were completely bare before him.

“M-may I t-touch you, maman? Please? Please, let me touch you! Please!”

“Yes, Erik, you can touch me.”

Swallowing nervously, Erik began to trace his fingertips all across your body, skimming over your chest, to your stomach, and over your pelvis and thighs. Pulling you into a desperate embrace, Erik placed heated kisses to your lips and began to shyly trail them down the side of your neck. Quickly getting down on his knees, Erik moved to lick at your clit and tried to nudge your legs apart so that he could actually push his tongue inside you, moaning and fluttering his eyes at both your taste and the relief at having a part of you in his mouth. However, this wasn’t about you, this was about Erik. With that thought in mind, you attempted to move away from Erik, but were halted by his hands shooting up to hold your hips in place and prevent you from moving as his tongue worked all the more feverishly inside you.

“B-babydoll, come on now, that-that’s enough of that!”

Moving your hands down to Erik’s head, you gently urged him away from yourself, careful to not press too hard into the textured skin of his right cheek. You could feel Erik press against your hands, letting out distressed whines the more you tried to take yourself away from his mouth and looking up at you with pleading eyes as he strained to keep his tongue within your vagina. After a few seconds of easing his head towards the ceiling with your hands, Erik was forced to remove his mouth from you.

“Mommy, no! Let Erik keep going! Maman, let me keep going, please!”

You could see the tears beginning to well up in Erik’s eyes as he pled with you to let him taste more of you, but you held firm.

“Not right now, babydoll. Now, I want you to be my good boy and go sit on the bed for me. I have to get something ready for our session.”

Erik reluctantly drew himself away from you and did as you asked, his malformed lips trembling as he forced back a plea for you to change your mind.

For all the time you spent exploring Erik’s underground house, you had only ever managed to find one mirror, and even then it had usually been covered with his black cloak or another material of some kind. It sat atop atop a black vanity directly across from the foot of Erik’s bed, and should you stand in front of it, you would be able to see from your mid thigh to the ceiling behind your head. However, if your calculations were correct, when sitting on the bed you should be able to see your entire body (or bodies in this case) reflected back at you.

Erik watched with a mixture of apprehension, confusion, and longing for you as you made your way over to the vanity and pulled back the velvet fabric. Laying the material across the wood, you turned around and walked back to Erik, sitting against the middle of his head frame. Immediately Erik tried to crawl over to you and sit himself in your lap to resume kissing you, but you put a quick stop to that.

“Okay babydoll, I want you to sit between my legs with your back to me and look towards the mirror. Can you do that for me, sugar?”

“B-but mommy, Erik needs kisses!”

“I’ll give you kisses, baby, but you have to listen to me first.”

Letting out small whines, Erik obeyed, slumping against you and lowering himself until his head was at the same level as yours, if not a little lower. Remembering the second half of your command, Erik looked towards the mirror and gasped at the sight before him, finally grasping what you intended it for. With his cheeks positively burning, Erik stared at his reflection and took in his dilated pupils, the way his normally puffy lips were swollen further from yours, the way his cock twitched against his stomach as your hands grazed over his sides, but the sight that really made Erik blush was the image of you sitting behind him, looking into his mirrored eyes and smirking as you ducked down and began to press kisses to his neck.

Of course, you being you, you knew exactly where where Erik’s sweet spot was; about three inches under his right ear (you’ve figured out that any of the skin close to his birth defects was highly sensitive) and about a fingers width back, and Erik absolutely adored it whenever you would nip and suck on the area. Naturally, you immediately went to attack the erogenous zone, listening to Erik’s whiny moans.

“Mommy! Mommy please! Nghh-Please!”

Pulling away, your lips were immediately captured by Erik’s, his head tilted at an angle and his hands gently gripping your thighs that caged his legs. Agonizingly slow, your hands swept over his fevered skin until you softly gripped his shaft and began to deliberately pump him up and down. Moaning into the kiss, Erik felt his eyes roll into the back of his skull as nothing but pure ecstasy began to flow through his veins and cloud his mind. As you separated your lips from Eriks, he began to pant and swiftly tucked his face into the crook of your neck. Noticing your babydoll wasn’t looking at himself, you stopped stroking him.

“M-maman! Maman, no! Don’t stop, don’t stop mommy! Please!”

“If you want mommy to keep touching you, you have to look in the mirror, baby.”

Whimpering, Erik stole a glance at his duplicate, and was rewarded with you beginning to run your hand up and down his shaft once more.

“There’s my pretty babydoll. So beautiful, just for me. You’re being such a good boy, you are my good boy.”

The fact that you could say such things with so much love and affection with everything Erik was ashamed of, everything he had been denied love because of, spread and glaring at the two of you within the reflective surface, completely wrecked him as he began to sob.

“Mommy! Mommy! Erik, aah- I-I-ngh- Erik n-needs-AAghh! I-I-I-haaAGH-M-M-O-MMY!”

“Breathe, babydoll. You’re so pretty, Erik, so handsome. Absolutely gorgeous. I love you, I wouldn’t have anyone else.”

Stroking Erik faster, you watched in the mirror as pretty little tears fell from his eyes down to his cheeks, and it wasn’t long before Erik began to thrust his hips up into your hand, rutting into your grip like a dog in heat. Erik knew he was close, and out of reflex he took his gaze away from the mirror and burrowed his face into the crook of your neck as he felt himself peak-…you-you stopped moving! Erik wailed as he pulsed and throbbed in your grip, he had been so close!

“M-maman, maman! Please, more! Erik needs-I need-I need more! Please! Erik will be so good for you, he promises, maman!”

“Good boys look in the mirror, babydoll. Are you going to look? Or do you want mommy to stop touching you?”

“I-I’ll look mommy! Erik will look! But please, keep touching me, please!”

“Good boy.”

Fisting Erik’s cock, you felt his body go completely limp against you, save for his hips still thrusting into your hand.

“Look at how pretty you look, baby. That’s it, you’re doing so good for me, babydoll.”

Erik seemingly didn’t even have the mental power to properly respond, only managing small cries of ‘maman’, ‘mommy’, and ‘please’, with the addition of a few French words you couldn’t quite catch. Speeding up, you could feel his wild pulse as he throbbed into your hand, his precum aiding in making sure you weren’t to rough with him (he probably would enjoy it as long as you were still just as loving and semi-gentle). More moans and whimpers trickled past Erik’s malformed lips as you went back to marking up his neck, still looking up often to make sure he was watching himself properly. Suddenly his noises seemed to become more urgent and high pitched, his hips bucking wildly with no pace as Erik heard himself begging for release.

“MAMAN-ngh-I-I-ahhhh! Mommy I’m cumming!”

“That’s it, babydoll, that’s it. Let it all out.”

Erik watched through tears of pleasure as he painted his stomach and chest white, a guttural cry of ecstasy escaping from somewhere deep within him. Slowly, after a few minutes, Erik’s hips stopped twitching and his breathing calmed.

“You did so good for me Erik, I’m so proud of you babydoll.”

“B-but you did not orgasm, mon ange!”

“I don’t need to! I wanted to focus on you tonight, to show you that I love you and that you shouldn’t say such horrible things about yourself! You are mine, Erik, and I will love you no matter what.”

Shakily rising to his knees and turning around, Erik gripped your hips and pulled you down until your head was resting on his pillows before laying himself on top of you, not caring about the feeling of his sperm being pressed between both of your bodies.

“Erik, come on, we’ve gotta get you cleaned up, or your sheets will get dirty.”

“I will simply wash them tomorrow, Erik needs his (Y/N) too much to care at the moment!”

“Fine, fine, fine. You’re lucky you’re so cute, babydoll.”

Blushing, Erik stole a kiss from your lips before settling back down onto your chest and tucking himself under your chin as you ran your fingers over the top of his head.

“Maman?”

“Yes, sugar?”

“Je t’aime!”

“Je t’aime, babydoll. I love you too.”

“…Maman?”

“Yes, babydoll?”

Erik appeared nervous now, unable to look up at you and tracing lines into your chest with shaking fingers.

“Maman, please let me use my mouth on you! I’ve been so good! I’ve been so good for you!”

With a sigh and a small exasperated smile on your lips, you peered down at Erik.

“You really are relentless, huh?”

“S’il vous plaît, maman!”

“Okay, fine, but you really don’t have-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Erik pressed a thankful, yet needy, kiss to your lips and ducked under the covers before he began to desperately mouth at you, happily moaning and peering up at you from between your legs with lovesick eyes.

“Oh babydoll, whatever will I do with you?”

———————————————————————————

@sloppyzengarden

it’s 12:30 in the morning in my time zone, I’m so tired, but if I didn’t post this I was going to commit war crimes.

[mckitterick]

You're not ugly. You just look like you.

full transcript of the post:

I photograph a lot of people. Almost everyone believes they are ugly. Your grandmother. Your child. Your best friend. Most models. Most actors. Maybe even you.

"Oh, don’t take my photo, I’ll break your camera!" laughs the 80-year-old grandfather. When he dies a few months later, his grandkids will treasure this reminder of his "ugly mug."

"Please delete this," says a dear old friend. She looks beautiful. She looks like herself. She’s been captured in a moment in which she is utterly comfortable in her skin. And she hates it.

"Oh God," I said, because I had to get a professional headshot for work. "I have a face like a slapped ham," I told the makeup artist I hired because I’m so hideous that I can’t bear to have photos of me around. The selfie I took of "the best it’s ever going to get" is my husband’s iPhone background.

You will never see yourself with the love that others have for you. That’s what makes a person beautiful, not angles or contours. You will never be objective about your appearance. But fortunately for you, your friends and family are never objective, either: They’re biased to see you through the way they smile when you walk into a room. They want every photo of you they can get their hands on, because each photo is tied to your memory.

You’re the worst judge of your appearance. Trust me. You look fine. The camera loves you. Now take a picture.

source post: X

[kittenfangirl20]

*it had been a couple years since Adam and Eve were thrown out of Eden for tasting the Forbidden Fruit, they recently had a twin boys together, Cain a boy looked so much like Adam and Abel a boy who looked so much like Eve, the pregnancy was a painful event because Eve claimed that she tricked Adam into taking a bite of the fruit even though he made the choice on his own because he didn’t want to lose someone else he loved because she didn’t want him to be punished, he was woken to the boys crying, he got up because Eve needed her sleep and made his way to where the babies slept and to his shock, Lilith was standing over the small bed Adam made for them, she was still beautiful, but in a twisted way, she now had large red horns coming from her head and large red bat like wings, she wore a crown and a deep purple gown*

Adam: What are you doing here Lilith?

Lilith: In order to be Queen of Hell with my beloved Lucifer, I was cursed to not be able to bear children of my own. Lucifer wants to be a father and I think that these beautiful little babies will be the perfect Princes of Hell. If you love Lucifer like you say, you would be willing to sacrifice them to make him happy.

Adam: Fucking stay away from Cain and Abel!!!!!!!!

Lilith: We definitely have to change their names.

*Adam charged at Lilith and she grabbed him by the wrists, now that she was a demon she had super human strength and Adam screamed while the bones in his wrists were cracking, Lilith held him up by the wrists and slammed him into the ground*

Lilith: Why fight when you can just have more children of your own.

*Lilith started to mercilessly beat him, tears started to fall from Adam’s eyes while he wondered why Lucifer could choose her over him, he hated the fact that he couldn’t protect the wife and children he loved dearly, suddenly the beating stopped and Lilith screamed, even though it hurt to move, he moved himself up a little to see Eve standing over a cowering Lilith, in Eve’s trembling hands was the angelic sword of Michael which he had given to the couple after they had been thrown out of Eden to protect them in case something like this happened, Adam was impressed to see that Eve had snuck up behind Lilith and cut off her wings, since it was angelic steel, the wings would never grow back*

Eve: As my husband said, fucking stay away from Cain and Abel. Also if you lay another hand on the man I love, I will end you and you won’t be able to be reunited with your husband.

Lilith: Fine, I will have a child one way or another. Besides I don’t understand how this hideous creature inspires such loyalty in you, I at least have better taste in men and I am not an imitation of who Adam really wants.

Eve: Lucifer chose you over Adam, I have to question his tastes. I know Adam loves Lucifer and if the world had been fair to Adam, Lucifer would have loved him the same way. But I know that Adam loves me the same way as he loves Lucifer and anyone who is loved by Adam is a very lucky person. I feel sorry for Lucifer when all he has is you when he could have had so much better.

*Lilith just spat at Adam and disappeared, Eve ran to Adam and held him in a way that wouldn’t cause him more pain*

Adam: Eve please know that I love you so much.

*it hurt Adam to speak, but he had to say it*

Eve: Don’t speak, I know how much you love me. Someone please come help Adam, I can’t lose him.

*to the surprise of the couple, one of the Archangels, Raphael, who was a healer came to heal Adam’s wounds, Adam thought that he would have been abandoned by God and the other angels like how Lucifer abandoned him, as he was being healed he wondered if Lucifer told Lilith to steal his babies with Eve because they couldn’t have their own and if Lilith had truly poisoned his first love against him*

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lunchbox for Your Boyfriend! Jake Kim, Samuel Seo

Jake Kim x Reader

"What's that, boss?"

Jake grins at Brad as he pulls out his lunch that was specially prepared by you. You had held it out to him this morning, looking exceptionally happy with yourself. Jake's expression then matched yours when he asked "For me?" and you nodded.

"Yeah, looks good!" Jason adds.

After carefully opening the lid, Jake unveils... well. Rather questionable items. At least through anybody else's eyes.

Greying meat (bless whatever poor, indistinguishable creature gave their life up for this) and wilted salad sits on one side. And there was rice - but even that looked oddly wet yet dry at the same time. The ambiguous small lumps of black, whatever the hell that was, were the final cherries on top.

All Jake saw was your love poured into this meal. He couldn't wait to tuck in.

That was not what Jason and Brad saw. They exchanged looks at the frankly inedible meal set out in front of the Head of Big Deal. Sure, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but if judging meant avoiding chronic food poisoning then it's just good sense, right?

"On second thoughts..." Jason murmurs, leaning away from the 'food' as Brad subtly gags.

"Huh?" Lineman pops out of nowhere, joining them at the table and trying to see what everyone was looking at. Oh... That looked. Unfortunate.

"Who shit in your lunch, boss?"

Samuel Seo x Reader

It dwells on his mind.

That ugly bento box. The bright neon pink hue, the cat pawprints on the lid. Tucked away under his desk, and wrapped in a garish purple fabric with teddy bear faces. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

You had 'tiptoed' out of bed at 5:14am. Samuel knew, because you were not quiet. You couldn't be quiet or discreet to save your life. Your heavy footsteps echoed from the bed all the way to the kitchen, and it was quickly joined by a cacaphony of saucepans or plates or whatever the fuck clashing down.

Somes days Samuel thinks he doesn't deserve you, this morning he wonders what he's done to deserve this. You had stayed up talking about nonsense until 2am, and now - inspired by bento boxes and cute lunches, was intent on making one for him.

Lovingly prepared by your girlfriend, you had said. Samuel thinks about said 'love' as you continue to bang around in the kitchen.

And then an hour later, as he pads out to greet you and ready for the day, you're covered in grease and hair in disarray but looking pleased as punch.

You hold the offending lunch outstretched in your hands. In that hideous box, and even more hideous cloth. He was sure whatever was inside would be infinitely more offensive to his senses, if your past cooking attempts were anything to go by.

With anyone else, Samuel would have scoffed and sneered. With you, he takes it with thanks and a stiff smile.

It really must be love.

[lubotomies]

its really funny how insanely talented paul is in animation but also the end is so hideous like can i just list the issues i have with the end really quick animation wise

their heads are nearly flat.

every shot theyre always cut off in some way and sometimes the very tops of their heads are out of frame. please just move the camera back.

there are no interesting angles or shots whatsoever everything is eye-level medium shot all the time like a wes anderson film if it was bad

this is just a trademark of pauls animation but they always move so fucking slowly its like someone filled the room with marijuana smoke and molasses theyre all in slow motion all the time

transitions are so fucking quick like it borders on johnny test with the way it snaps back and forth with a whiplash sound effect

The colours are so fucking ugly tom is literally a grey yellow in the end it drives me CRAZY

their arms are too short. bear with me. their arms are too short but their fingers are proportionally realistic with all 3 joints but the palms are thin and short so the fingers are too long. typically your fingertips reach just shy of the midway of your thing but pauls style their fingertips literally either reach past their knees or stay right at their waists and its scary.

This is not even getting into the writing because im purely focusing on the art

Despite this the cliff scene devours.

The wind the colours of the sky the angle looking down at the 3 of them and the rubble of the house and his bleeding arm not to mention that in the animatic he had a very prominent limp. The contrast of the mellow yellow and peach pink sky v. the obliterated house and bleeding arm. even the smoke is coloured this relaxing pink

pauls weirdly overly relaxed style actually working to benefit the scene because it makes it ambiguous as to whether tords hand is just hovering, ever so slightly brushing against his scorched arm or if hes gripping it like a lifeline. gritting his teeth, purely in pain or is there emotion behind that too?

the end is SO bad but the ending scene literally carried it to the finish line i have such a love/hate relationship with it this scene lives in my mind from the very moment i saw it to today and it will continue to do so Love it or hate it paul served absolutely DEVASTATING cunt with this 15 second scene.

[eruherdiriel]

Something I've been thinking a lot about lately is how Jon knows what it's like to be burned. With his hand, he doesn't feel it in the moment but that's probably adrenaline more than anything else.

"You do not look well. How is your hand?" "Healing." Jon flexed his bandaged fingers to show him. He had burned himself more badly than he knew throwing the flaming drapes, and his right hand was swathed in silk halfway to the elbow. At the time he'd felt nothing; the agony had come after. His cracked red skin oozed fluid, and fearsome blood blisters rose between his fingers, big as roaches. "The maester says I'll have scars, but otherwise the hand should be as good as it was before." "A scarred hand is nothing. On the Wall, you'll be wearing gloves often as not." It was not the thought of scars that troubled Jon; it was the rest of it. Maester Aemon had given him milk of the poppy, yet even so, the pain had been hideous. At first it had felt as if his hand were still aflame, burning day and night. Only plunging it into basins of snow and shaved ice gave any relief at all. Jon thanked the gods that no one but Ghost saw him writhing on his bed, whimpering from the pain.

-AGOT, Jon VIII

And then there's the scene of his wound getting cauterized. Which, yeah, he's otherwise injured and just escaped the wildlings, experiencing a lot of physical pain and internal turmoil, etc., etc. Still:

Maester Aemon sniffed Jon's wound again. Then he put the bloody cloth back in the basin and said, "Donal, the hot knife, if you please. I shall need you to hold him still." I will not scream, Jon told himself when he saw the blade glowing red hot. But he broke that vow as well. Donal Noye held him down, while Clydas helped guide the maester's hand. Jon did not move, except to pound his fist against the table, again and again and again. The pain was so huge he felt small and weak and helpless inside it, a child whimpering in the dark. Ygritte, he thought, when the stench of burning flesh was in his nose and his own shriek echoing in her ears. Ygritte, I had to. For half a heartbeat the agony started to ebb. But then the iron touched him once again, and he fainted.

-ASOS, Jon VI

This doesn't even touch on how he feels about the R'hollor crew and stories of people intentionally being burned. Whether he's there when King's Landing burns or hears about it, he will be able to empathize with the people of the city. There will be survivors, some with burns like on his hand and some with way worse. There won't be enough milk of the poppy for everyone. There will be men, women, children, soldiers, civilians, and old people burned and screaming in pain. Before KL burns, Jon will have heard about the other places DT has been as well. They're not gonna be pals.

But there will be conflict in his interactions with DT. Jon fiddles with his hands when he's conflicted or distressed:

Jon's breath misted the air. If I lie to him, he'll know. He looked Mance Rayder in the eyes, opened and closed his burned hand. "I wear the cloak you gave me, Your Grace."

-ASOS, Jon II

Lots of examples from AGOT, when his hand is still freshly burned and in more pain:

"Grief and noise," Mormont grumbled. "That's all they're good for, ravens. Why I put up with that pestilential bird … if there was news of Lord Eddard, don't you think I would have sent for you? Bastard or no, you're still his blood. The message concerned Ser Barristan Selmy. It seems he's been removed from the Kingsguard. They gave his place to that black dog Clegane, and now Selmy's wanted for treason. The fools sent some watchmen to seize him, but he slew two of them and escaped." Mormont snorted, leaving no doubt of his view of men who'd send gold cloaks against a knight as renowed as Barristan the Bold. "We have white shadows in the woods and unquiet dead stalking our halls, and a boy sits the Iron Throne," he said in disgust. The raven laughed shrilly. "Boy, boy, boy, boy." Ser Barristan had been the Old Bear's best hope, Jon remembered; if he had fallen, what chance was there that Mormont's letter would be heeded? He curled his hand into a fist. Pain shot through his burned fingers. "What of my sisters?"

-AGOT, Jon VIII

When Jon had been Bran's age, he had dreamed of doing great deeds, as boys always did. The details of his feats changed with every dreaming, but quite often he imagined saving his father's life. Afterward Lord Eddard would declare that Jon had proved himself a true Stark, and place Ice in his hand. Even then he had known it was only a child's folly; no bastard could ever hope to wield a father's sword. Even the memory shamed him. What kind of man stole his own brother's birthright? I have no right to this, he thought, no more than to Ice. He twitched his burned fingers, feeling a throb of pain deep under the skin. "My lord, you honor me, but—"

-AGOT, Jon VIII

Jon raised the hood of his heavy cloak and gave the horse her head. Castle Black was silent and still as he rode out, with Ghost racing at his side. Men watched from the Wall behind him, he knew, but their eyes were turned north, not south. No one would see him go, no one but Sam Tarly, struggling back to his feet in the dust of the old stables. He hoped Sam hadn't hurt himself, falling like that. He was so heavy and so ungainly, it would be just like him to break a wrist or twist his ankle getting out of the way. "I warned him," Jon said aloud. "It was nothing to do with him, anyway." He flexed his burned hand as he rode, opening and closing the scarred fingers. They still pained him, but it felt good to have the wrappings off.

-AGOT, Jon IX

Not until he was well beyond the village did Jon slow again. By then both he and the mare were damp with sweat. He dismounted, shivering, his burned hand aching. A bank of melting snow lay under the trees, bright in the moonlight, water trickling off to form small shallow pools. Jon squatted and brought his hands together, cupping the runoff between his fingers. The snowmelt was icy cold. He drank, and splashed some on his face, until his cheeks tingled. His fingers were throbbing worse than they had in days, and his head was pounding too. I am doing the right thing, he told himself, so why do I feel so bad?

-AGOT, Jon IX

[jadewolf22]

Shoot An Arrow Through My Heart Pt.1

Fem!OC (Adriella Selmy) x Brienne of Tarth 

Series Warnings: Men being disgusting, abusive siblings, gore, death, violence, angst, mentions of murder, mentions of parent deaths, slander towards women, fighting, harsh language, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, ect... (Let me know if I missed any!!!)

A/n: This fic mixes scene from the show and book but follows the same timeline. Character ages are from the show. I have no clear vision for this story so try to bear with me here. Not sure how long this series will become; might just keep going until I get board of it.

A/n: I started this at like 11 at night and finished it around 6:30 in the morning so I apologize if it's a little shitty and has a lot of mistakes...

Word Count: 2,568

Brienne didn't know what it was that had drawn her to the archery range in the dead of night. Perhaps it was the temptation of solace from the men and their japes and whores, or the offer of peace from her own troubled mind. Whatever it had been was forgotten when she heard the sharp 'twang' of a bowstring snapping back into place and the muffled 'thud' of an arrow finding its mark. She had half a mind to turn around and retreat back to her tent but her curiosity got the better of her, for she had never encountered another person here at this time of night. She came within sight of the targets, fully expecting to be met with the sight of a man, only to be surprised when it was a woman she found holding the bow. The woman was clad in black clothing, with long and rich red hair that spilled down her back like a waterfall of blood. She was taller than the average woman, though not near as tall as Brienne, with a strong and lean physique. Brienne watched in awe as the woman nocked her next arrow and drew back the string, releasing it with a soft 'zip' as the arrow cut through the air, finding its mark in the heart of the target; a perfect shot.

"Impressive," Brienne spoke before she could control her tongue.

The woman jumped a meter off the ground, practically throwing the bow from her as she turned, eyes widening at the sight of Brienne, narrow pools of iron shadowed with fear. This was a look Brienne had come to know quite well. Her large, manly figure was usually met with such gazes of horror from both women and men alike with her broad and coarse features, horse-like teeth that were nearly too big for her plump, chapped lips, and thin hair the color of dirty straw. Compared to the woman across from her, Brienne thought herself hideous. Though they were almost the same age—Brienne being maybe a year or two older—the woman's face looked incredibly young. It was pale and heart-shaped, dotted lightly with freckles and scars. Her body was leaner and much stronger than a normal woman's but still feminine, with curvy hips and breasts the size of apples. Brienne had seen this woman around the camp before, but always dressed in a woman's garb with her hair done up in some sort of intricate braid, never in leather trousers and a hooded tunic adorned with an armored corset around her waist and hair cascading freely down her back.

"I—Lady Brienne... Forgive me, I... I know I should not be here," the woman stampered, her voice silky and meek with worry, "Please, excuse me. I... I'll leave you to it—"

Now this is a curious reaction; Brienne thought. The woman did not appear to be afraid of Brienne herself, but rather the fact that Brienne had caught her. The poor woman acted as if she'd been caught stealing, not shooting an arrow at a target.

"Do not leave on my account." Brienne said, placing a gentle yet nervous hand on the woman's shoulder as she went to leave, "I had no intention of using the range. And please, do call me Brienne. My title has no use here."

The woman nodded gracefully in a way that resembled a half curtsy, muttering, "Thank you." as she went to retrieve the bow she'd thrown.

"I don't recall ever being told your name," Brienne spoke casually, watching the woman nock another arrow. She paused, tucking her lip between her teeth before lowering the bow.

"Adriella, if it please you." she answered softly, turning to face Brienne and looking her dead in the eye, something Brienne was not used to "Adriella Selmy. Niece of Ser Barristan Selmy."

Barristan the Bold?! Brienne couldn't help but be awestruck. She had, somehow, found herself in the presence of the kin of the most famous Lord Commander in all of Westerosi history... 'crack' 'thud' The sound of another arrow finding its mark drew Brienne from her thoughts, awestruck again when she found that the second arrow had split the first in two before sinking even deeper into the target.

"Who taught you to shoot like that?" Brienne questioned, looking back and forth between Adriella and the target.

"My uncle," Adriella answered softly, her voice laden with sadness and longing, "After my parents died my brother and I were put into the care of our uncle. We lived in a house just outside of Kingslanding with a retired wetnurse and he would visit whenever he could. He taught both my brother and I how to fight and wield weapons of our choosing, though my brother always felt it unfair as I was a woman and he a man... Something I believe you and I have in common?"

"Indeed," Brienne agreed, knowing all too well how it felt to be a woman learning a "mans" craft, "Who is your brother?"

"Cain Selmy," Adriella replied, that silky voice suddenly harsh with indignation. Clearly there was little love between her and her brother, "Ser Loras's new squire..."

She scoffed, nocking back another arrow and letting it fly, splitting the second arrow right down the shaft. She had yet to miss by even a fraction of an inch, a fact that both intrigued and rightfully terrified Brienne.

"You should participate in the archery contest tomorrow morning," Brienne declared as Adriella went to nock another arrow, "You skills would be unmatched."

Adriella stiffened as if Brienne has just proposed the most horrendous idea in the world, nibbling on the inside of her lip as she lowered the bow again, staring sadly at the target before her.

"I can't," she whispered, so quiet Brienne almost didn't hear it, "Even if the king and other lords would permit me, my brother—"

"Adriella!!"

Both women jumped as a cold, gritty voice rang out through the otherwise quiet night, turning towards the camp as a man stormed towards the range. He was younger than Brienne by about five years or so and was a good head and a half shorter. His body was square and stocky with a harsh, square face accentuated by a dark stubble, a red button nose and muddy brown eyes that were red around the rims. His dirt brown hair was curly and matted and shone with grease as if he had not bathed in days, and his tunic and trousers were stained with wine and soup. He walked straight to Adriella, ignoring Brienne completely as he tore the bow from his sisters hands, tossing it into the dirt.

"What have I told you about coming out here?!" he growled, grabbing Adriella's forearm in a vice-like grip that was sure to leave bruises if he held on for much longer.

"Please Cain, I'm sorry." she whimpered, trying to wiggle out of her brothers grasp. The earlier fire in her was gone, replaced by a fear that made Brienne's heart clench, "I got board. I'm sorry. It won't happen again—"

"Damn right it won't!" Cain roared, yanking her arm harshly. Adriella cried out in pain, the sound stirring something in Brienne that she had never felt before.

"Release her." Brienne commanded in a voice that she did not recognize as her own.

Cain whipped around, still holding Adriella's arm tightly. His eyes widened at the realization that they were not alone and he quickly released his sister, bowing courteously before Brienne as he muttered out her title as well as a weak apology. But Brienne paid his actions no mind, looking past him towards Adriella and mouthing 'Are you alright?'. She nodded, rubbing her arm where Cain's fingers had dug into her skin which, although it pained Brienne to see, satisfied her for the time.

"Go back to your food and whores," Brienne instructed Cain, looking down on the man like he was nothing but shit on her boot. She had half a mind to correct him for calling her by her title, yet, she almost liked the way he said it with such fear, "Leave your sister be."

"I... Yes, my Lady. Apologies, my Lady." Cain stuttered, hurrying off like a mutt with his tail between his legs.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Brienne asked once Cain was out of earshot.

"You didn't have to do that," was all Adriella said, suddenly refusing to meet Brienne's gaze, an embarrassed flush in her cheeks, "I've been dealing with him on my own for years now. I didn't need your help—"

"Why do you allow him to control you like that?" Brienne couldn't help but ask. To her, Adriella looked more than capable of putting her brother in his place, yet she had made no attempt to do anything of the sort, "He's clearly a spineless craven; why do you let him hold such power over you?"

"Because it's all I've ever known." Adriella sighed, picking the bow up out of the dirt. Brienne could sense the hesitation in Adriella yet, for some reason that Brienne could not fathom, she felt safe enough with her to share this story, "My uncle never saw him do it, and he made he hide the bruises whenever our uncle was home... The only power he has over me is the fear he put there... And I hate him for it..." Adriella smirked suddenly, and it was a cold and murderous thing, "That's part of the reason my aim is so true. I picture it's him that I'm putting my arrow through. The image gives me the motivation to not miss."

Brienne shivered at the confession, her earlier bravery gone as suddenly as it came. Adriella was clearly ruthless, dangerous even, yet something about her intrigued Brienne. Perhaps it was the fact that they were both female warriors, or because she was Ser Barristan's niece, or maybe something else entirely; Brienne did not know. All she knew is that she found herself being drawn to Adriella, wanting to know what lie behind those eyes of iron and that prominent wall she'd built but was struggling to maintain.

The two ended up talking for most of the night, finding a solace in each other's company that neither of them had felt in a long time. It continued on into the next day, and the day after that and suddenly—having only known each other not even three days—the two felt close as sisters. They were inseparable, save for when Brienne needed to attend to Renly, but hen she had finished she could always find Adriella waiting at the archery range.

That's where Adriella was now, working on her off-handed shooting while she waited for Brienne to finish acting squire to Renly, a task that was well beneath the blonde woman, in Adriella's opinion. She had just let lose another arrow when all hell seemed to break lose. Shouts and screams radiated from the camp and Adriella took off, bow still in hand and sheath at her back, fearing an attack was upon them. She rushed into the chose only to be met with shouts that the king and two other had been slaughtered. Brienne; Adriella thought in a panic. Brienne had been with the king... She ran towards the kings tent as if her own life was on the line, rushing inside to be met with a gruesome sight. The floor of the tent was red with blood. King Renly lay on his back, staring up blankly, blood oozing from a wound through his heart. Around him lay two of his Kingsguard, Emmon Cuy with his yellow cloak dyed a deep crimson and Robar Royce, the red of his cloak matching the blood coating his armor and the floor around him. There was no sign of Brienne, a fact that both eased and petrified Adriella. Where was she if not with Renly?

Adriella spent the remainder of the night searching the camp for her, to no avail. She refused to think that Brienne had been taken or worse, killed, and when morning came she dragged herself away from her search to join the others in breaking their fast. Adriella stumbled into the mess tent, her eyes red-rimmed and weary, and grabbed a piece of bread and some weak ale, her stomach too knotted with worry to eat much more. She found a seat in the corner of the tent, away from the noise and the whispers, and tried to gather her thoughts. Where had Brienne gone? Surely she would not have left if she had heard that Renly had been killed...

"Well, well, look who's finally up," a mocking voice drawled. Adriella looked up to see Cain sauntering towards her, a cruel smirk on his face.

"Go away, Cain," she muttered, tearing off a piece of bread and forcing herself to chew.

"Can't a brother have breakfast with his dear sister?" he questioned, sitting down across from her without waiting for an invitation. "Especially on such an interesting morning."

"I'm in no mood for your games," she warned, glaring at him. Ever since that first night with Brienne, Adriella had begun to push back against her brother, taking back that power he'd stolen so long ago.

"Oh, this isn't a game, Adriella," Cain assured, leaning in closer and dropping his voice down to a whisper. "Haven't you heard the news about last night?"

Adriella's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

Cain's grin widened. "It seems your dear friend, Brienne, was the one who killed Renly. Stabbed him in the back, they say. Quite literally."

"That's a lie!!" Adriella snapped, her voice trembling with anger. "Brienne would never—!"

"Believe what you want," Cain interrupted, his tone mocking. "But everyone is saying it. Apparently, she fled with Lady Stark after the murder. Some say Lady Stark paid Brienne to do it. No one's seen her since."

Adriella shook her head, refusing to accept it. "You're wrong. Brienne didn't kill Renly. She wouldn't—Not for money—"

Cain laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better. But it won't change the fact that Brienne is gone, and everyone thinks she's a murderer."

Adriella glared at him, her hands clenched tightly. "Get away from me, Cain."

With a final sneer, Cain stood up and sauntered off, leaving Adriella alone with her thoughts. It's wasn't just the fact that Brienne wouldn't kill Renly, Adriella truly didn't think Brienne could kill Renly; she loved the man too much. There had to be another explanation... Someone else must have done it—maybe one of his own Kingsguard... Yes. They killed Renly and then... and then they killed her too, to cover it up and make it look like she was the traitor

No, Adriella thought, I will not jump to such conclusions. If they say she is ridding with Lady Stark I must see for myself. They cannot be too far ahead.

So she rose abruptly, marching to her tent and packing her rucksack. Swiping a bow and sheath of arrows from the armory as well as several small knives before pocketing what money she and her brother had brought with her, mounting her horse, and ridding off towards Riverrun, praying to the old gods and the new that the allegations and her own terrified thoughts where false, and Brienne was innocent and safely in Riverrun.

[wheretheharekissesthefox]

Sweet Little Treats

The tadpoled adventurers meet Harleep, and it goes a little different than expected...

Warnings: graphic description of sex, M/M, F/F, M/F, switching, orgy, incubus sex magic, spell-bound, non-consensual sex, Depraved Carnal Lust, Gale's creaking knees

"Ah. The House of Hope, nestled amidst the Nine Hells. Fascinating," proclaimed Gale with his arms akimbo.

"Ugh, why's the decor in these places always so gaudy? It's hideous!?" complained Astarion.

"Gods, it's hot in here," groaned Shadowheart.

"We're in the Hells. What did you expect?" Lae'zel retorted dryly and the cleric glared at her.

"I hate it here," muttered Karlach. "Brings back shitty memories."

"I understand your feelings," Halsin spoke warmly. "I too couldn't bear the memories of what happened while we were in the Shadow-Cursed Lands."

"Heh, he said 'bear'", snickered Shadowheart.

"Focus on the important part," rebuked Lae'zel irritated.

"Easy now. There's no need for hostility between us," Wyll chimed in concerned. The githyanki shot him a look, crossing her arms.

"Rich coming from you. If my memory doesn't deceive me, I remember how you tried to kill Karlach without asking questions first because of your devil mistress."

"Exactly!" Shadowheart agreed haughtily.

"That's all water under the bridge now," beamed Karlach, putting an arm around Wyll and pulling him closer despite his yelp of protest. "We're all good now."

"Of course," replied Lae'zel sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Uhm, folks? I'm afraid we have company," Gale told them, pointing towards a spacious bed where an almost naked Raphael in BDSM gear was spread out like a buffet.

"Oh, hello, sweet things," he moaned while stroking his own chest. "Are you here to play?"

"What the fuck happened to you, mate?" Karlach asked, eloquent as ever.

"I'm Harleep, Raphael's personal incubus, and I think you little treats got lost."

"Having a sex slave who disguises themself as you, is rather... mentally ill," remarked Galin.

"I don't know, darling. I'd fuck myself if I could," noted Astarion. "I'd love to see this handsome face twisted in pleasure."

"Please, keep that to yourself," sighed Gale, tired of all the tadpoled idiots around him.

"There seems to be a lot to unpack," Halsin said. "Maybe, you'd like to talk about your insecurities later."

The vampire spawn huffed offended.

"I do not have any insecurities, druid! You're positively demented!"

"So, what you're saying is this bloke's a sex demon?" Karlach yelled concerned. "Oh, hells no! Fuck that shite! I'm going to split him in half!"

"Oh, please do, sweet thing," moaned Harleep, spreading his legs.

"What the fuck?" Karlach stared at the incubus with her axe raised, too puzzled to move.

"Hm, I kind of like him," mused Shadowheart with a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Those shapeshifting abilities can come in handy in the bedroom..."

"Oh, Gods," Wyll muttered under his breath, suppressing a gag.

"It seems like you have quite an exquisite taste regarding your mating preferences," Halsin noted. "That's quite... resourceful."

"Are we just going to ignore the literal incubus in the room?" Gale asked miffed.

"Shut up and put that mouth to better use," Astarion told him.

"Thank the Gods Jaheira's on camp-watching duty," muttered Wyll.

Harleep's melodic laughter silenced them.

"You're such wonderful little treats. Little mice walking right into the lion's den."

"Oh, man! Even you spew shitty poetry?" groused Karlach. "Can't villains just be normal for once?"

"They wouldn't be villains then," replied Astarion, dryly.

"The bantering. The dynamic. – The tension." Harleep's voice fell to a deep purr as he rolled onto his stomach, unfolding his wings while poking his bottom lip with a sharp fingernail. "What to do with my sweet little treats? There are so many options..."

"How about we talk this out?" suggested Gale. "I'm sure we could come to an agreement."

"Oh, you will 'come', little mouse," purred the incubus, and before the party knew what happened, Harleep had snapped his fingers. A pink mist filled the air in the boudoir, accompanied by the sweet heavy smell of roses and cherries.

"What -" Gale coughed. "What - kind of magic is -"

He couldn't finish the sentence as another cough rattled his lungs. When he could breathe again, he straightened up, frantically looking for any caused damage. Nothing out of the ordinary. Strange... Except for the fact that Astarion stood way too close and eyed him way too predatorily.

"You know you can't consume my blood," Gale reminded him. The vampire spawn bit his lower lip.

"I'm aware, but I might be able to consume other fluids."

"Uhm, what?"

And with that, Astarion pounced on the confused wizard, kissing him stupid before ripping his robes apart, dropping to his knees, and swallowing down Gale's cock. The later squeaked high-pitched and would have been embarrassed if his brain wouldn't have stopped working. Instead, Gale held onto Astarion's shoulders like a lifeline as his mouth dropped open on a loud, guttural moan.

What's going in on? the wizard thought while he watched hell break loose around him. It must be the incubus' magic. Something potent that can't be broken easily. With the right spell, I might -

His brain got scrambled when he reached his orgasm and spilled into Astarion's mouth. It died just a tad more when he felt the vampire spawn swallow his load with a moan. Then, the latter looked up at him with pleading eyes. Those red rubies clouded with lust and incubus magic.

"Gale, darling, please get me off," Astarion whined. "I can't take much more. I think I'm dying again."

For a moment, Gale fought against the brain fog, trying to think clearly. He took a look around and saw how Wyll was ploughing into Karlach and Lae'zel was eating out Shadowheart like it was a battle strategy while Halsin kissed the cleric's face with a hand around his own cock.

Well, they seemed occupied, Gale thought. And Elminster wasn't around either, so, he might as well...

Without further ado, the wizard dropped onto his creaking knees and pulled down Astarion's trousers, revealing a lovely pale cock.

Astarion was trembling, sweat beading along his temples and neck, and Gale marvelled about the vampire spawn's ability to produce sweat.

"Gale... please..."

Oh, his name sounded so sweet and like a prayer on Astarion's tongue. Gale couldn't help himself and kissed the pale elf who moaned into it. Then, the wizard had mercy and took Astarion's cock in his mouth.

Meanwhile, the others had switched positions and while Wyll was bent over Karlach's lap, Halsin ate him out enthusiastically, making the younger man squirm and moan. At the same time, Lae'zel was fucking Shadowheart with a strap-on.

Harleep observed his little treats that were helplessly under his spell with a satisfied grin. Giggling, he stuck out his tongue to taste their combined lust in the air, feasting on its energy. How considerate of his master to let him play with these sweet little treats.

Harleep watched amused how Shadowheart and Lae'zel switched positions and the cleric started fucking into the githyanki. Halsin took Wyll slowly and gently while Karlach fucked the druid from behind, fast and hard. Meanwhile, Astarion - who'd come down the wizard's throat - and Gale were kissing tenderly and rubbing up against each other.

It all was rather sweet, Harleep mused, surprised. Usually, his targets would fuck each other roughly until they'd bleed and die of exhaustion, but these sweet little treats seem to actually care about each other. Harleep hesitated, pursing his lips. These little treats were special, he realised. They were different, not only driven by lust but also love. He watched, almost wistfully, how his little playthings kissed each other over and over again, their touches desperate but also gentle and reverent. It deserved a reward. With a deep sigh, Harleep plucked the rest of their sexual energy from the air with his forked tongue before dispelling his enchantment.

Immediately, the party members came to their senses.

"Chk! I cannot believe I had your mouth on me!" Lae'zel sneered as she donned her armour quickly.

"You had yours on me first!" Shadowheart countered. "I was just being polite."

“It was polite,” agreed the githyanki, surprised about her own answer. She eyed the cleric suspiciously and noticed the slight blush on her cheeks.

"It was awesome!" beamed Karlach. "After a decade, my dry spell has finally ended!"

"I - I was deflowered. In the Hells. By a druid," muttered Wyll, pressing his hands against his head and rocking back and forth. "Where's the romance in that? The chivalry?"

"It was a pleasure to pleasure you. We did as Nature intended. If you're curious, don't be shy and ask for more. I'm always here for you," Halsin told him, smiling, and patted Wyll's shoulder who whimpered lowly.

"Get off me!"

Astarion shoved Gale aside and hastily got onto his feet, pulling up his trousers. Slightly hurt, the wizard followed suit.

"I deeply apologise for making you uncomfortable," he said earnestly. "Under different circumstances, I'd have never done anything without your explicit consent, especially considering your past. But we all were under an incubus' spell, alas, I had no control over my action. None of us had."

Astarion huffed, straightening his armour, and mumbled: "As if you'd ever touch me under different circumstances..."

"I would if you wished," Gale replied sheepishly, averting his gaze as the vampire spawn's eyes bored into him.

"Are you making fun of me, wizard?"

"No, I'm dead serious."

That stunned Astarion into silence, then, he walked over and pulled Gale into a surprisingly tender kiss.

"You idiot. I can't stand you one bit." The pale elf smiled at the wizard. "When we're back at camp, find me and ask me. I'll be waiting."

Dazed, Gale blinked at him dumbly before blushing.

"Noted," he answered, smiling bashfully.

"Oy, lovebirds! What about this one?" yelled Karlach pointing at Harleep.

"Nothing you can do about me, little mouse," snickered the incubus. "I'm done playing with you. You can go annoy my master now, toodeloo."

He wiggled his fingers at them and then sent them flying through the air, through the door, and firmly closed the boudoir. They were his master's problem now. He'd had his fun and it was boring to play with the same little treats twice. - Well, he might made an exception with these ones, but oh, well... With a yawn, Harleep sprawled out on the silk sheets as he closed his eyes to savour the taste of the sweet little treats' lust and love on his tongue. Oh, it was so very sweet.