#under the skin as well. augh

[6797968625078]

my official and complete and chronological list of my VERY FAVORITE new-to-me movies i watched in 2023 bc i watched kiind of a lot of movies: DEAD RINGERS, kwaku ananse, ticket of no return,

mulholland drive,

my dad is 100 years old, 🖤the🖤texas🖤chainsaw🖤massacre🖤2🖤, spirited away live on stage (that is the name of the filmed version of the stage play it had a brief theatrical release. and it was magnificent), MANHUNTER, BODY DOUBLE, dream demon, malignant, were all going to the worlds fair, bette gordons variety, the strange case of dr jekyll & miss osbourne, HEAT, society, sea devil (2014), 💚the💚return💚of💚the💚living💚dead💚, POINT BREAK, the queen of black magic, passionless moments, but im a cheerleader, totally fucked up, nostalgia, whats up doc, kyoshi kurosawas to the ends of the earth, under the skin, wittgenstein, thief, blood simple, california split, rob zombies halloween 2, cutters way, the doom generation, the gate, 976-evil, the faculty, brainscan, welcome to the dollhouse, fleshtone, SHOWGIRLS, chan is missing, idle hands, thir13en ghosts, zardoz, wishmaster, urban legend, urban legends final cut, pet semetary, exorcist 2, the craft, encounter of the spooky kind, final destination 3, chocolate babies, bunny lake is missing, wes cravens new nightmare, tales from the hood, house on haunted hill (1999), thomasine & bushrod, koji shiraishis OCCULT, by hook or by crook, housekeeping, mysterious skin, fresh kill, the long goodbye, paper moon,

inland empire,

troll, sleepwalk, body parts, the woods, valentino, the quiet, the raven (1935), you are not i, teknolust, RAVENOUS, when pigs fly, the old dark house, monkeybone

[dangoulains-devotion]

something I think about a lot when it comes to Vincent's design is that across VII, AC, DoC - the changes in his design are minor, usually shape related, but he keeps the same clothes. the others have multiple outfits, but he stays the same, adding to the fact he is, effectively, motionless in the river of time while others are able to move on or 'progress'... It gets to me ok

[rxzennia]

oral sex

✎𓂃 in the case of aventurine giving | m! reader

it’s taking everything in you to stay still. aventurine has you spread out in bed, his mouth around your dick and his hands on your thighs. your back is arched into the mattress and you’re trying your best to not whimper, but there really isn’t much you can do when he’s got your hips held down firmly.

“w-wait, babe, wait,” you hiss, shuddering and twitching so beautifully under him, “not there, it feels weird…”

“weird?” aventurine repeats slowly, lifting his head and staring up at you with hazy eyes. “how weird?”

you inhale sharply; your precum is all over his tongue and slowly dripping from his parted lips. he’s so adorable like this, panting and dazed as he goes down on you. such a shame that you’d promised to let him do all the work tonight, because all you’re itching to do is to shove him down onto the bed and fuck his tight throat.

aeons, he’s such a sight that you almost missed the question entirely. “good weird. c’mon, back to work.” you caress his cheek with one hand, gently trying to coax him back to giving you the head of your life. “you’re doing so well, give me more.”

you don’t need to tell him twice. aventurine doesn’t hesitate to lick and tease around your tip, his tongue digging carefully into your slit and feeling the veins on the side, until he slowly lowers his mouth and deepthroats you.

“oh, oh, aven,” you moan, physically restraining yourself from grabbing his head and doing whatever you want. “mm, that’s good,” you sigh loudly as your hips buck involuntarily, “you feel so good, i don’t think i can-”

“shh, you can,” aventurine coos, moving one hand to play with your balls as he bobs his head, “be good for me, hm? you promised.”

so pretty.

your boyfriend is so fucking pretty. your cock bulging in his throat every time he takes it all the way, his swollen lips covered in saliva and precum, his face colored a dark pink as tears bead at his eyes, and his own arousal straining against his pants…

you want to mess him up. 

“you,” aventurine stutters when he feels you get bigger in his mouth, “you, hngh, why’d you-”

“sorry, baby,” you say between gritted teeth. you’re about to lose it; you sit up and carefully slip your hands into his hair, and you hold him in place as you thrust into his mouth. “ah, your mouth is so warm,” you groan, tugging lightly at his hair while you move, “i can’t help it, you feel too damn good.”

the way you bite your bottom lip as you move is so intoxicating, the way your skin glistens with sweat as you pick up the pace and abuse his throat, aventurine can’t think anymore. like a possessed man, he seeks out your thick cock in his mouth, your taste, your body, and your affection. 

“ah, augh, hngh, please,” aventurine gags, with how rough you’re going, but he absolutely loves it. “harder, fuck me harder.” his words come out muffled, slurping and swirling his tongue like he just can’t get enough of your liquids. “please, please, i need, i…”

“oh, you need it?” your soft smile twists into a smirk, your grip tightening ever so slightly in his hair. “what do you need?” you’re feeling mischievous; you pull him off of you and take some time admiring his teary eyes, messy lips, and the sticky semi-clear liquid dripping down his chin. “aeons, you’re absolutely divine,” you say as you swipe away the beading tears with your thumbs, “tell me, baby. tell me and i’ll give it to you.”

“i need to taste you,” aventurine whines, a cute sound of annoyance when he doesn’t feel your cock between his lips, “i want your cum down my throat. please?” he adds, as if that would make you tease him less, “please?”

you stare at your lovely boyfriend, almost gasping at how desperate he is. you’ve gotten him all hot and bothered before, but it’s rare that he gets so needy for you. your hands slide down his face and you caress him gently, until you decide to slip your hands into his hair once more and shove him down your throbbing cock the exact moment you thrust upwards. 

“attaboy, that’s it,” you purr, holding aventurine’s head firmly as you take a moment to revel in the snug velvet of his mouth. “mm, that’s it, good boy, is this what you want?” 

“gah-eugh, hngh, mmf! y-yes!” he chokes, but he refuses to tap out. he allows you to push past his gag reflex and make him cry with each and every motion of yours. “i, i, augh, yes, i love it.” he ruts his hips harder, grinding against nothing as he sobs and moans, “aah, i can’t help myself… you’re so big!”

“like being called a good boy, huh?” you chuckle; aventurine likes to act tough, but whenever you give him what he likes, he melts into such a pretty puddle for you. “good boy, rinnie, you’re such a good boy,” you breath out between pleasured moans, “i’m, i’m close, oh, i’m going to come inside,” you ramble, your hips stuttering as you struggle to keep up the pace, “can i? rinnie, please, can i?”

he nods, his hands groping all over your thighs, your ass, all while he tries his very best to work harder for your cum in his mouth. he absolutely adores this sight, you’re drowning in feelings only he can give you, and you’re enjoying it so much that you can’t help but whimper for him.

“yes, yes, do it,” aventurine chokes out around your cock, his fingers gliding along your arched back. “do it, c’mon, lemme taste you…”

you keen sharply, bucking your hips one last time and grabbing onto your boyfriend’s head tightly. “fuck, i can’t, i can’t, baby, aah–” your thrusts become sporadic as you twitch helplessly, hot cum shooting straight down aventurine’s throat as you keep grinding yourself against his face– “oh, oh, that’s so good, fuck, rinnie, you’re so good, you’re doing so well.”

“hn, hmf, mh?” aventurine moans at how much you’re pouring into him, but he isn’t complaining, he swallows with practiced ease before he slowly eases off of you, a strand of milky white dangling from his lips. “bleh… you came so much…” he pants, crawling up the bed and laying down on top of you, “your turn to take care of me, you bastard.”

you laugh heartily, your hands are already reaching for the drawer on the nightstand. “of course, just sit back and relax,” you whisper, giving your sweet lover a kiss on his cheek. “we have the entire night still in front of us.”

[knavesflames]

chat this contains sh DO NYAT read if uncomfy

putting this in ur ask box cos im desperate for it to be written on my knees screaming

genshin girlies tracting their s/os skin where they see scars while u cuddle naked maybe after a sesh or even just skin to skin cuddling and they speak softly telling you you did a good job and everything and even kissing them AUGH HEHEHRHEHEGRGEGRGRGRGRBDJFJSLANHAHA

Hi <3 sorry this took me so long to get to! I have had a whirlwind of health struggles both mental and physical but I am trying to Lock In again. I’m sorry you went through such tough times :( I understand, and I get the struggle, if you get what I’m implying. Stay safe and healthy fr<3

Word count: 867

Content: sh implied in the past but it’s not graphic, just briefly mentioned, talk of scars, fluff

tw utc

Arlecchino has a rule— as blunt as she may be, she isn’t as cruel as the world likes to make her out to be. Judgemental, though she is, she refuses to comment on something that a person cannot change. She deems it basic decency (it is), but even some of the most polite people she knows don’t hesitate before speaking, or, well, looking. Despite the discomfort she knows you experience when people’s eyes wander and dwell on the exact thing you don’t want them to look at, she herself has never done so. Curious, she has to admit she has been, as would most be if they had a girlfriend with such marks littering her skin. Purely out of concern and care does she wish to know the story of what led you to make such decisions. She does not ask. Arlecchino herself has scars from countless hours of training herself to execute ‘Mother’, ones she keeps hidden under the fabric of her pristine white suit. Ones only you have seen, during moments of intimacy when the night is dark and the air in the room is so suffocatingly warm. You know her story, so you don’t ask.

It seems to be a cycle. She sees them, says nothing, and holds back from doing what she’d really like to do for fear of being insensitive or revealing the softness she keeps hidden. The marks are hidden again, and neither of you say a word. In truth, they shouldn’t be the main focus of the conversation and she understands that, but a part of her yearns to know you, and to understand the parts of you that you’ve refused to reveal.

On the days she catches you staring just a little too longingly at That Drawer in the kitchen, or the days where you seem a little more miserable than usual when you glance at your skin, she’s sure to pull you away from the mirror or the kitchen under the guise of needing you to look over some of the plans for the orphanage, or needing to go shopping. She’s so good at doing so, you don’t even notice she’s done it until hours later.

One particular night, after multiple hours of pleasure and mumbled words of affection, she decides to be bold. Hesitantly, her blackened hand reaches to rest on your thigh. The act itself is nothing new, with you, Arlecchino is a very touchy person, always reminding both her and you that you’re hers. Her thumb however, strokes over one particular scar she’s eyed for a while. It’s a feather light touch, testing the waters, and she’s perfectly prepared to lift her hand away should you indicate as such. You do not. You lean into her touch, almost, like you’ve been waiting for her to get comfortable enough to touch them. You become lost in your own thoughts, and you become unaware of how much time passes before her voice cuts through them, as stern as always, but softer than usual.

“Is this recent?” She hums in slight disapproval as her thumb grazes over it, but she says nothing more, which, if you’re honest, you’re grateful for.

“I had a moment,” you mutter in reply, your head buried into her neck. Her perfume still adorns her skin, and you wonder how expensive said perfume must be if it’s been able to last such a long time, and through such strenuous activity. “I realised and I stopped.”

“Good.” A breath, and her voice lowers until it’s barely louder than a murmur. The sincerity is there though, and her lips move against your hair. “I am proud of you. You have done well.”

“I have not done well, it is—“

“You would not have stopped four years ago. Or two, for that matter. Any progress is better than no progress.” Arlecchino’s voice is gentle, yet unwavering. When you go to protest again, she can practically see the words form before your voice can carry them. “Of course I know how often you were doing it. I am no fool. I said nothing because begging someone to stop doing something when they do not wish to stop is a fruitless endeavour and harmful for both parties in the long run. I just wished you would speak to me if you needed.”

You decide to continue letting her trace every scar she finds on your body. She traces random shapes with the tip of her nail (lucky for you, she filed them a while ago. For.. other reasons). In a moment of affection, she traces little hearts over each one, never missing one, and never giving one more care than another. Both of you stay silent, but the words don’t need to be spoken, and any words that did, have already been said. Arlecchino sees no need in making you uncomfortable when she knows you’ll speak if you need.

Speak you do, eventually, and she remains silent as she listens, giving the occasional nod or ‘mm’ to reassure you that she’s listening. She files all of the information away into her mind, and vows to herself she won’t forget a single word. Arlecchino vows she will love you always.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

❛ FUTURE FICS ₊✩‧₊

             𝐈'𝐌 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒, 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒!

🚨—⠀๋ ♡⃘ ⠀. Every post uploaded here is just ideas and possibilities, not realities, so they may or may not be uploaded. If you want more information about them such as possible departure dates, questions, etc., send me a private message!⠀💭 ︵๋͜︵♡

Kaleidoscope

Fandom. Steven Universe

Parings ─── Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz x Human! Reader

Synopsis; In a world where towering demons emerged from the elements, you were a warrior accustomed to the chaos of survival. But everything changed when she descended from the sky—a pink being from another reality, as dazzling as she was incomprehensible. She showed you wonders you had never imagined, and together you forged an improbable love in a landscape of war and destruction.

The scars of that time remain, etched on both your skin and your memory. But to your son, you tell a different version: stories filled with heroism, dancing lights, and adventures under a pink sky, as if to shield him from the shadows that still weigh on your heart.

Because, in the end, battles are not always won with swords, and the love you shared with she was both a blessing and an unshakable wound.

Kamikaze Girl

Fandom. DC Comics

Parings ─── Yandere! Batfamily x Clone! Reader x Yandere Superfamily.

Synopsis; (not yet)

CRUEL INTENTIONS

Fandom. Adventure Time

Parings ─── Finn Mertens x Lich! Fem! Reader

Synopsis; This time, everything would be different. Revenge was within reach, darkness embraced every corner of your being, but him... he always had to be the hero. Despite the scars the past left, his light kept shining on your path, like a constant that never fades. Why couldn’t he let you fall into the shadow, like everyone else? Why did he have to be the savior, even when your soul was already lost? The battle wasn’t just external, but between what you were and what he wanted you to be.

A/N ────── AAAAAHHHH The same blog has been deleted like five times or more, augh, damn shitty Internet. Well, these are future projects that MAY or may not happen. Some are old projects that I uploaded on Wattpad once, requests and/or gifts that friends make to me, or intrusive thoughts that have not yet come to fruition.

Every time a story is uploaded or discarded, it will disappear from this post.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

The Nightmare Before Christmas Lost in The Book: Over The Spiral Hill

{1} {2}

“Hello… You. A wonderful person who sleeps in my arms. I wish you could open your eyes…” 

A voice whispers closely by your head, feeling fingers ghosting over your skin. You recall the previous events that had transpired. The book Grim found on the floor of the bookstore, Yuu and you reaching out to save him from being sucked in along with your friends…

Where are they!?

Feeling your body regain consciousness, your eyes admittedly search for the group, relief settling into you once seeing them asleep near you. Yuu holding Grim within in their arms as they snooze quietly together.

The worry you felt lowers, relaxing into the warmth of the pin-stripped suit holding you close.

Raising your head to the stranger, you feel your words falter in your throat. Dark sun-glasses covered his eyes, yet they lowered when he too eyed you more closely. The color of blood-orange irises astonished you, the brightness in his gaze reminding you of a lit jack-o-lantern.  

“Augh… My eyes feel heavy..” Grim grumbles, waking up as Yuu stands up clumsily with the fluff-ball in his arms.

“Grim! Yuu!” You call out, attention away from the newcomer as his lips tilt into a confused frown.

-

The male that held you previously was named Skully j. Graves, or Skully for short, introducing himself with polite flourish. Until… He gone up to everyone in kind, kissing their knuckles happily. Causing a good chunk of your friends screaming, until finally settling his sights on you at the tail-end of his kissing spree.

“Oi!” Epel calls out to the taller male, about to step in, “Don’t try that on (Y/N)!” Skully ignores the purple-haired student. Walking up to you with a beaming smile on his lips as Yuu shoots you a thumbs up. “He’s a gentleman.” They state loudly as Grim puffs out his chest with a pout, unhappy that his fur was touched.

 Holding out his towards you he bows graciously, waiting for your move, you reluctantly take it. He straightens his body, holding you close as he presses a kiss, eyes closed as yours’s widen.

You grin, choosing to reappreciate you leaned closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead near the diamonds around the crown of his head.

The male pauses, this time, he seemed shocked at such a gesture.

A jovial laugh leaves his throat as he eagerly scoops you up into his arms. Grinning like a fool as he twirls you around, not minding the glares he received.

-

Idia grumbles under his breath. "Ugh... This is nauseating, such a crowd..." He shrinks in his seat during the Halloween Town meeting, "Too many sparkling ikemen... It's like a new costume event in I.R.L..." He bemouns quietly, seeing a few of his classmates stand up to greet the townsfolk as politely as they could.

Glancing at his seatmate, Vil eyes the crowd skeptically. The blondes stare scared him even more!

Hearing the commotion on Halloween should be celebrated, Idia glances at Yuu and Grim and the Ramshackle House-Warden. "H-Hey... What about you..." He mumbles to them, unsure as he fiddles with his tailcoat.

"Hm?" You think for a minute...

"Halloween has a complicated history from where we're from." You explain to Idia. As your fellow NRC friends become interested at your own ideas. "There's so many people that celebrated it differently. Skully's example is actually not too far off from-"

"Eh-!?" Epel exclaimed, shocked. "So it's really dull' for you?"

"Well- I meant to say, since there's so many cultures and religion it just depends on how YOU feel about celebrating. Kinda like Chris-"

"Oh, not that made-up holiday again!" Grim whines as Yuu laughs.

-

[Yay! I really love this twst update! I've been playing a lot! I hope Skully gets a card! I enjoy his v.a's acting for him! Hopefully I can post a part three soon when the event updates again! Thank you for reading! Art, reblogs and comments are super helpful! See You!]

[poetryandfluffycats]

madara + fem reader cockwarming at first then riding him Pleaseee rough or soft ur choice tysm 🫶🫶

A/N: i've had this one cooking for awhile... influx of mama fuckers in my inbox induced me into finally finishing it

Pairing: Madara Mikejima x fem!reader

Content: Its date night with Madara, and you decide you want to rile him up a bit. This is, well, this is the result of that

Warnings: NSFW, fingering, penetration sex(p in v), a very tiny amount of cockwarming, riding but only sort of because madara is lifting you up and down, use of slut whore & brat, slight daddy kink(one mention), handjobs, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, rough sex

Words: 3.2k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

"You're such a good little slut, dressing up so pretty for me"

Madaras hands were all over you the second you got home, pulling you into his lap and hiking your skirt up your thighs, palming you through the thin lace of your panties. You had planned this, of course. The tight black dress with the plunging neckline, the thigh high stockings held up by garters, the sheer lingerie that you could just see peeking out from under your skirt. All of it had been hand picked by you to drive your boyfriend crazy.

By the looks of it, your little plan had worked.

You moaned as his teeth found your neck, softly nibbling and sucking hickeys into the sensitive skin. Madara always tired to be as gentle as possible with you, claiming that he was worried he'd end up hurting you due to the size difference between the two of you. But you could feel the way his rock-hard cock twitched under you, like a spring ready to pop, and you could tell he was holding back.

"Mama~" You mewled, rocking your hips against his budge and earning a low groan from him. "Don't tease..."

He merely chuckled, using one of his large hands to spread your thighs apart, his fingers dipping under the fabric of your panties and brushing against your already dripping cunt. "Someone's excited" He cooed, rubbing soft circles on your clit as you squirmed in his lap. "What, did you think you could wear something like this without any consequences?"

"M-maybe-fuck-" Your words were cut of by a shuddered moan as he slipped a finger into your tight hole, pumping in and out at a lazy pace. "Do you like it?~" You looked up at him through your eyelashes, biting down on your bottom lip when he curled his finger inside you, brushing ever so slightly against that spot that made you see stars.

"Hm, you look like a dream. Like a princess all dressed up for her Daddy. You like making me feel this way, huh? You like driving me insane while we're in public?" Madaras free hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you in, gently rocking you over the strain of his pants as he continued to pump in and out.

In and out. In and out. In and out. Each time his fingers plunged inside you felt a mountain of fire shooting through your body and all you could do about it was follow his movements and cling onto his shoulders like a lifeline. In and out, over and over again.

God, it felt too good.

Madara could fuck you with just his fingers and you'd always be satisfied. The digits were all at least 4.5 inches in length and were each the thickness of two of your fingers pushed together. How he moved inside you so effortlessly and pleasurably was insane to you in everyway, and you choose to never question where he learnt those skills. Maybe somewhere along the way of his lifetime of woman before you he had picked up some skills, you weren't complaining no matter the case.

Emerald green eyes had a twinkle of mischief in them as they watched you intently, a predator stalking its prey and awaiting the prefect time to pounce was what it reminded you of. "I asked you a question, darl', don't ignore me now"

"God-yes! I love to, augh! M-make you feel good!"

Your eyes rolled backwards to meet your brain at the thought of just how much power he held over you. Being bigger, stronger, and in this moment much more intelligently in check than you, Madara could do anything he wanted to you and you wouldn't think twice. He could've had you any way he pleased, in the booth at the restaurant, the alley out the back, pulled over on the side of the road whilst his motorcycle was still roaring. Considering that you two had fucked on almost every surface in his apartment-and rather shamefully, some public bathrooms-you wouldn't have batted an eye. As long as you got to cum in the end you felt it was all worth it.

"Hmh, that's right. And what are you?" Madara cooed, pressing another thick finger into the sopping mess that was your cunt. Squelching noises coming from your hole accompanied his lust-filled tone. "C'mon baby, tell me what you are"

The tip of his index finger brushed harshly against your sweet spot, causing your back to arch and your vision to go blank with blissful goodness. "A slut! Your slut!" You could barely see through the haze in your eyes but you all but knew there would be a smirk on Madaras face. He was possessive as ever and loved nothing more than to hear you admit you belonged to him. It was a side to him that only came out during moments like this one.

"Damn right you are. All mine, aye? No one else gets to fuck this pussy like I do. You wanna cum? Fuck, I've hardly done anything yet and your soaked"

"'m sorry!" Your voice came out in shaky spurts, each word sounding more like a whine or a moan than an actual statement. "Please let me cum! Please, I've been good haven't I? Mama!"

The way you called his name with such pleasure made his head spin and his cock throb. All the friction from your bare cunt rubbing against his clothed crotch was becoming almost too much for him, he felt as if he might have came in his pants like a horny teenage boy at the rate you were going. Madara was a gentleman, he never liked to cum before you did, but selfishness was a strong emotion that was taking over his body along with his lust.

With a grin on his lips, he removed his fingers from you with a 'plop!' sound, bringing them to his grinning face and sucking the juices off of them. The taste was sweet to him, like cake or muffins baked by a loving grandmother. Prefect recipe for a sinful treat. You could've died at the feeling of sudden emptiness that filled your body now, having been so close to your release just to have it taken right out of the palm of your hand. You had half a mind to punch that smirk right off your boyfriends face.

"Fuck!" You hissed as you felt drips of your arousal falling down to stain both Madaras pants and the couch beneath you. "Why'd you do that!? I was so close!"

Madara let out a laugh, as if it were obvious and you were just a stupid idiot. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shook his head, wiping the extra juices still on his hand away on the edge of the couch. "That's not really how you wanna cum, is it? My cocks better than my fingers, you know~"

"Madara-"

"Ride me, baby girl. Take what you need from me before I lose it"

It was demanding, his command, yet still kind and sweet in its own special way. The special way that it was from Madara, you supposed. You wasted no more time after that, hiking your skirt up to your stomach and pulled your panties down to your ankles before undoing his belt, then pulling down the denim of his jeans and his boxers in one go to reveal his aching and hard erection. You gulped as you watched a glob of shiny white pre-cum fall drip down the edge of his cock, following the line of his vein all the way down to the base.

Gorgeous wasn't a word you liked to use to describe a mans cock, but when it came to Madara you discarded that rule. Not only was he huge, but the width of it alone could make any woman drool and drop to their knees. Veiny, but not disgustingly so. Hairy, but not so much that it gave you a rash.

You reached down and gave the head a few lazy strokes, smearing the pre-cum up and down like a makeshift lube. Madaras face twitched in anticipation as he watched your movements, large hands resting on the fatty flesh of your thighs and his nails digging in slightly when you brushed over the more sensitive parts of his length. You imagined there would be bruises later, but that only added to the excitement of it all.

Giving him one final pump, you used your spare hand to hoist yourself up a little higher, positioning your entrance just above the head of his cock. You grinded yourself against him for a second, allowing the tip to enter you just barely before lifting yourself back off it. The blood-red tip was screaming at you, begging to be shoved deep inside your gooey hole. Although it killed you to not immediately have him ramming your insides, doing this made you feel like you still had a sense of control over the situation even when it was so clear that Madara was the card master. To tease him, to edge him, to deny him of what he asked you to do was a thrill you rather enjoyed.

"Don't be a brat" A low growl rumbled from Madara throat at your teasing, his fingernails digging in even deeper and causing you to let out a whine and loose your balance, slipping downwards onto his cock. You were about halfway down his length now. The stretch was so powerful and painful, you felt small tears pricking along your lash line at the feeling.

You were no stranger to Madaras size, shit, the two of you had sex not even a week ago, a steamy encounter that had left you breathless and motionless on the bed for hours after. Perhaps it was the way you two were sat now that made him feel even larger, or maybe your mind was too absorbed by pure pleasure that every action he made inside you got doubled by 10.

Either way, there was no better feeling than being stuffed full by him, you had found, so any burn he gave you, you'd take all the same.

"Shh, c'mon, its alright" Madara cooed at the sight of your tears. He brought a hand up to brush them away, creasing your cheek and rubbing his thumb up and down the side of your face in the process. Clearly he had seen the obvious look of pain on your face and was now trying to ease the ache with sweet gestures and kind words. "Just stay there, you don't need to move yet, wait until your ready"

You shook your head, grabbing onto his shoulders and pushing yourself down more. About 3 more inches of his cock were left for your hole to swallow up now. "No! I can do it! Just let me- augh!" Your words were cut off by a loud yelp as you sunk down deeper and deeper until you couldn't anymore, until Madaras tip was pressed flush against your cervix and your hips were connected together.

A wave of intense pleasure rushed through your veins and fell out your mouth in the way of a long, drawn-out whimper. You could feel the veins of his length pulsating against your walls, and you were sure that if he had thrusted upwards in that moment he would have fucked straight into your womb-a scary but not unwelcomed thought.

Brown sweat infused hair fell over Madaras forehead and his eyes were blown wide, mouth open in an 'o' shape but somehow that damn grin never left his face. All thoughts in the both of your minds had washed away into the wind and now all the remained was your lust and undying desire for each other.

Madaras hand that held your cheek moved up, lacing themselves in your messy hair and tugging lightly, just enough for your head to be pulled backwards and for your neck to become more exposed. "Taking me like a champ" He mumbled, lips finding the nape of your neck to press sloppy and saliva filled kisses to the skin,

"Always a little whore for me, aren't you? I love it so much when you act like this, you know? Makes me wanna fuck this dumb little pussy full of my cum. Do you want that?"

You could barely manage an answer due to the fog in your brain, only able to gasp out a mere "Yes!" before all your noises morphed into moans. Your walls squeezed around his thickness in a death like grip, as if you were trying to milk him for all he had before he could even finish. Madara grunted at the feeling and his nails dug deep into your scalp, earning a whimper that escaped your lips.

"I'm gonna start-fuck-, I'm gonna start moving now, okay princess?"

Your head fell into his shoulder and you nodded in approval, screwing your eyes shut in preparation for what was going to come next. Madaras hand in your hair was now moving back to your hips and griping onto them, gently rocking you backwards and forwards. Your clit brushed over the hairs that dotted his pelvis, sweet sweet friction that sent a shockwave down your spine, an added bonus to the consistent bliss you gained from his cock inside you. Drool came dripping out from your open wide mouth, the mess landing onto and staining Madaras button down.

Slow and calculated was the pace that you two started out with. Madara lifted you up and down on his cock with ease, as if you were nothing but a fuckdoll. Simple praises of "Good girl" and "I've got you" fell from his lips like a leaky tap and you greedily took in each word. Each time he lifted you, you could feel the head of his dick drag across the ridges of your walls. It was leaking with sticky pre-cum, which made the drag much easier and also added to the messy mix of lewd sounds in the room. Madaras grunts, your whines, your pussy squelching and his cock plunging deep into your core. All of it together created the prefect song of passion. You could've stayed that way forever.

But this was Madara, a man with a short temper and an even shorter patience. You knew in your head that he wouldn't be able to keep up with this lazy speed for much longer, his body yearned for something rougher and quicker and you were well aware of it. You could only wait until...

"Fuck, baby, I'm sorry"

There it was.

In a matter of milliseconds, the man had pulled you nearly all the way of his dick, leaving only the tip in before slamming you all the way back down, all while thrusting his own hips upwards to meet yours halfway. A scream reputed from your throat at the action, and you only continued the sound as he kept up his movements. It was completely unforgiving, he was like a beast that had suddenly gone into heat without warning.

"Mama!- You, mhmp! You feel so, so good!" You groaned in between thrusts, biting down into his shoulder hard enough to leave a bright purple mark in the skin. He growled at the sensation, it edging him on to go harder with his movements.

You were being completely spit in half thanks to Madara and his huge cock. He bottomed out with each thrust and his heavy balls slapped against your ass every time, sure to leave a funny shaped mark there the next day. Tears were falling freely from your eyes now and you were out of control of your own moans. You looked like a pornstar in a video of the worst quality possible, but somehow that all but made Madara want you even more.

His lips meet your neck once more, licking and sucking harshly, even grazing his teeth over your pulse point just to be cheeky, "Yeah? You like that? Shit, I'm gonna fill you up so good, gonna make sure every last drop stays inside. Then no one else will touch you once they see that you belong to me"

"I already do! Fuck! Mama- Mama! I'm gonna cum soon, so close~"

Madara let out a breathy chuckle at your words. There was a glint of something in his eyes as he placed one last kiss to your neck, something that you couldn't quite put a finger on. There was a hint of fondness to it, but that's all you could make out whilst being pounded into. "So am I, go on then, cum for me. I'll be right behind you"

Snap.

The coil in your stomach snapped at that, the permission to finish. A wave of warm then cold washed over your entire body as your orgasm came crashing into you like a truck to a brick wall. You rode out your high on Madaras cock as he slowed down a bit, returning to his original pace of gently rocking you as he neared closer. If you could've thought straight you would've thanked him for the slower pace as over stimulation quickly settled into your body.

His orgasm came not long after, but longer than it would've taken if he had continued using you as a ragdoll. Loads upon loads of hot and sticky cum shot deep into your cunt and straight into the warmth of your womb. A few spare drops leaked out from where the two of you connected, running down both of your legs and reaching the floor, creating a glossy white puddle on the hard wood floor. You'd clean that up later.

It took you a few minutes to climb down from your high, your whole body still being limp from Madaras relentlessness. He moved you whilst you were still in that daze, pulling you off his cock and laying you down on your back against the couch. Your dress was pulled back down to cover you in that moment, and when you regained your composure you saw and felt Madara laying above you, his chin resting on the exposed skin of your upper chest and his body acting as that of a heated blanket.

"Hi" He was smiling down at you, stupid giddy look on his face that could cure all the worlds problems.

"Hi" You mumbled back, trying to mimic the look on his face, although you probably looked more silly and zombie-like rather than cute and puppyish like Madara did.

"You had a good time?"

"Yeah. Better than good, thank you"

"No need to thank me, darl', its what I do"

You giggled at that, and softly grasped his cheeks and pulled him in for a much sweeter and less heated kiss. It lasted a long time, and you could feel yourself getting lost in the sheer amount of emotion you had in your heart for this man. Left over thrill from your session was still lingering in the air, but it was fading, being replaced by the same feeling you saw in Madaras eyes eariler.

Love, adoration.

You wondered how you'd top this on the next date night, maybe treat him to his favourite sushi place. Yeah, that'd do it.

[honestlyanowl]

Been thinking too hard about library sex with Powder, your praising her through silent whispers and accidently mumble an "i love you" augh end me <3

Content: nsfw - silent public sex, praise, soft sex, bottom powder, dom fem! reader, fingering, situationship

You found yourself day dreaming again, pen hovering over the lined paper below your eyes.

And yet, you couldn't will yourself to write the next section of your essay.

You couldn't get- Powder out of your mind.

Her very essence had leeched itself onto your thought process.

The way she spoke, the way she walked with a little hop in her step, the way her eyes sparkled whenever she smiled, the way her foot tapped when she tried to concentrate.

The list went on... you were head over heels; that much was obvious by now.

But who could be so dearly in love with their best friend?

Someone you'd grown up with, someone who'd made it clear she only thought of you platonically.

Accept for when she didn't, how the back of your hands would brush together when you two stood close enough, the subtle glances, the small hearts she'd secretly scribble on your homework... god, the mixed signals drove you insane.

So, you just... sort of sat there, conflicted with your emotions.

Powder sat beside you, neatly writing down notes from an earlier lesson she'd recorded a week prior.

You could smell the enchanting fragrance of her perfume as it occasionally wafted your way.

It was like a glimpse of heaven every time.

Maybe it was the way she was dressed, her leather dress shoes, with laced socks peeking over the top.

Or her denim overalls, embroidered with flowers across the seams.

Possibly even the way she had her short length hair tucked into two rounded buns.

But something had you in a particularly clouded mood.

You couldn't stray your thoughts away from the want to reach out and- touch her, make sure her skin still held it's usual warmth.

The pure need to wrap yourself so tightly around her you'd merge together into one.

Blend in a flurry of colour.

Too far? Okay.

Powder's eyes snapped down to her lap, where one of your hands had unconsciously rested itself onto one of her legs.

It took you a second to notice, yet instead of recoiling your hand and trying to play it off like a normal human being... you rolled with it.

You were just friends anyway, right?

"Can we share notes?" You mutter with practiced ease, covering up the way your heart was practically beating out of your throat.

Powder seems to relax a little under your touch, and if you squinted... it almost looked like she had a slightly more crimson hue on cheeks.

She clicks the lead back up into her mechanical pencil and slid her notebook over to you so you could read through what she'd written so far.

You pretended to read, but in all truth couldn't manage to focus your eyes.

All you could feel was the silky smooth skin of her leg under your palm, and for a moment you thought maybe you'd managed to slide it higher, just grazing the beginning of her thigh.

"y/n..." Powder mumbles a little too quietly, her thighs pressing tightly together as her gaze flickers between your eyes and her notebook; you were oddly still.

But before she could press any further, you spoke.

"What part of the lecture was this in?" You point curiously at a random paragraph you didn't bother to pay any real attention to.

Your side vision however, catches the title.

'First topic.' in big letters, god damnit.

"Well it's-" Powder tries, gently grasping your hand, and nudging it to the bullet note.

You felt your face heat up, and if you hadn't known any better you'd think someone turned off the air conditioning.

There was no point trying to tip toe your way around this one.

It was either rejection, or- hopefully anything more pleasant.

You swiped your hand up her leg, it slipped under the first few rows of ruffles that lined her skirt.

And you managed to elicit a small shaky gasp from Powder.

She contemplated reaching down to grab your wrist, to stop you.

But she found herself frozen in place.

It didn't take long for you to realise what your were doing, you didn't want to ruin what the both of you had... after several years of friendship... you'd both been through so much together.

You didn't want to overstep, you couldn't.

But at the same time, the hunger for her; her very soul... tugged at your heart.

"Can I...?" The words leave your lips, barely audible.

You feel like your breath had been sucked from your lungs the way she looked back at you.

Not with anger, or shock like you'd religiously expected.

But instead with... an equal hunger.

Powder nods frantically, arching her back subtly to urge your hands higher, until they nudged up against her panties, the thin fabric that separated your fingertips from her aching flesh.

You were in a pretty quiet, secluded, area of the library.

So that was a plus, surrounded by two or three book shelves and several empty tables.

Seemed like a win.

"What if- we get caught...?" Powder whispers, almost rushed as her eyes are fixated on your hand, unable to see past what was under her skirt, but it gave her the ghost of some kind of reassurance.

"What if we don't?"

You reply, a finger hooking under the white laced panties that wrapped over her hips, tugging it to the side.

You could faintly smell the musky scent of her arousal, and bathed in her sharp inhales as you dragged a fingertip up her folds, gathering slick and discreetly lubricating your fingers.

Powder almost sobs as you stuff a finger into her heat.

Your spare hand slaps over her mouth as you drag the digit slowly in and out; feeling her velvety walls clamp down around you.

"Quiet now." You mutter, bathing in the way each little squeak she made stroked your ego, and the way her thighs fluttered around your hand.

Powder's eyes scanned the room, hyper aware of every little sound around them.

Including the shameful noise her pussy made when you forced in a second finger.

This one seemed harder to take than the last, she squirmed a little on the cushion, breathing heavily against your palm as her hips grinded into your touch.

"You're taking it so well..~" You coo out a gentle praise, lips attaching themselves to her neck as you press affectionate smooches along her jaw.

Fingers pumping faster.

Powder's moans muffled into your hand, she could feel the wetness lathering across her inner thighs every time you'd curl your palm onto her swollen clit.

And she could definitely feel the way her gut was tightening more, and more, with every slide of your digits.

"M'fuckk..." You groan as quietly as you can manage, eyes fluttering against the skin of her neck as you suck little hickeys onto the pale flesh. "Love you- mmn.. so much."

Powder's walls clamp down a little too abruptly, and for a moment you'd like to believe it was her at an edge, but, unfortunately for you. She'd heard that.

You almost certainly lost some colour from your face, because Powder looks like she's seen a ghost.

Did you really just let that slip out...?

"Powder I-" You recoil your fingers from her heat, not even bothering to clean the wetness off of them as your vision blurs out slightly.

"y/n... you know I'm not.." Powder's words seemed to get wedged in her throat, not what? Not gay?

You knew that part very well, you saw the way she looked at him, so why did you look at her with such a heavy heart.

You should've known this was going to happen, something like this always happens.

"We're- just.. friends, aren't we?" Powder inquires, there was an insecurity in her voice, a distant tremble.

And it broke your heart to know you caused it.

"..Yeah, just friends." You try muster an assuring smile, but it comes out more of a grimace,

"I guess it just- slipped out, sorry..."

(REQUESTS OPEN)

did the ending ruin it?? 😭😭

hope you eat this up anyway, it took me ages <3

(Might come back and edit it later to change the ending or proof read)

- Owl 🌹

[oncewhenalongtimeago]

Hiii saw your requests open and i thought why not give it a shot. I love your stories, I'm more attached to your style of writing melancholy like on floret, counting coins, better left unsaid and always the angel never the god. So, just a random idea to throw out there you can do whatever with it:

Hiccup and yn were engaged early on. Yn is a bit older and fitter to follow around Stoick to learn how to defend and manage Berk. Yn feels sorry for Hiccup and tries to make him enjoy his youth and time with his friends more while she made him handle the rest. Leading to a misunderstanding that he didn't feel needed when in fact he did have a crush on her with how she doted on him and how cool she looked fighting dragons and ordering people around. While she liked him for his thoughtful caring side but still envied his freedom and creativity.

That's pretty much it idk lmao it was just a word puke. That's just the gist no need to be word for word, if it's too much i completely understand but truly want to praise your eloquence and how you caught me right in the feels augh. Thank you for your time! 🦀

Wildflower

Pairing: Unrequited!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Fiance!Reader

Words: 2113

You never asked to be here.

Tags: Mild age difference, fem!reader, heavy exposition, non-canon politics, original characters

Next>

His arms ached, heavy and stiff as if the body of a sapling had been shot right through the bone. They loosened slightly and dipped under some hefty weight- he paid them no mind, eyes drawn to the wild world on the outside even as he grunted and struggled. 

With a jerk, dropping the sword, he with a strength he’d never really been able to spend on the all things that really mattered. There was a hefty clatter and a clang, the sound no less thick than the bang of a heavy bell or a gong, long metal body slamming and dancing against stone.

 His feet and legs stuttered as he stepped both forwards and back, palms roughly meeting the wood of the counter, bouncing eagerly as if he might begin to run or be startled into action.

There had been a shout- something indignant, deeper than normal, not so much a battle cry yet no less defiant and sure. He thought he might have known it- he had to look. 

The feel of smoothed, aged wood beneath his palms, both flatter and rounder than liquid, solid and uninterrupted- the sound of warring battle-cries from the world outside and the sweltering feel of heat from both the forge and the terrible reign of dragonfire and sharp teeth and clawed mouth- all of it came secondary to his searching, the bulk of him overshadowed by the hefty forge window

It was too early in the battle and the warriors of Berk had been too prepared for there to have been a line outside the door, and well- most of everyone had already left for the other side of the island, where the assault had been most violent.

He felt the burn on the side of his hand as he brought his hand back, grazing it against the side of the table- he’d accidentally pressed it against the face of the sander’s belt. It’d stung and buzzed with a thickness not unlike the feeling of folded cloth crusted in dragon spit or the hard skin on the bottom of an old foot, though the skin on his own palm, he knew, wasn’t so thick or stubborn.

Past raging orange flames and scorching yellows he saw you, lonesome, outlined like a shadow in the light across the clearing. 

Your shoulders were stiff and your stance full as you swung the hard, metal-rimmed bottom of a bucket against the head of a beast- a Gronkle, its thick, green-brown head giving way to a wide maw as it bellowed.

 It bled, its blood splattering across your face as if it were naught but a shock of light or darkness made liquid; as if, instead, it was you who had been violently cut and not it.

There was no vicious, beautiful Astrid here to ogle at- not now, as there had been in the before times and as there would be later- no, just you. 

You, who had been meant for him… At least, he thought so. 

He wasn’t completely confident in the fact- the whole thing went rather unspoken of. It wasn’t a taboo per se, more something that lay heavy, made clear through few words a long time ago then made obscure by the lengths of time and age.

Still, there came a suresty with it even if there wasn’t much of a bond between the two of you, something that, for him, acted as a heavy comfort. In times like these, he leaned into it, felt the lump in his chest beat against it like his bones were nothing but taut leather and wood.

-

Blazing red hair, nearly imperceptible against the raging fires as she swung an axe- it took you a while to find any of the others.

Before you was fiery Tove, a tallish Viking girl-woman from a house named ‘Alfson,’ not so influential as it was just there and nearly forgotten. In it, she was like a polished gem among a lot of plain, unassuming stones. She was also a member of your peer group, aged older by about nearly a winter. She’d been born in the warmer month, when the sun was at its hottest and the earth was at its greenest.

You settled by her with crossed arms, close enough to be recognized as part of the group and yet not close enough to hint towards any one specific alliance. 

It was the darkest of nights above yet the fires rendered it light as day. You tried your hardest not to inhale any of the soot as you watched the rest -the two of four, really- fooling, knocking into each other with rough shoulders as you worked where it really mattered.

Your peer group was a large one. The number of you here was only a smallish fraction of a whole, the rest drawn away in the moment by other troubles and politics.

They’d grown complacent in the chaos, used to the raging fires and battle as you all were, carelessly leaving the fires around to burn and eat away at everything. You kept yourself still and casual in spite of it, knowing that, here, words and tussles were just as dangerous as the rock-shattering jaws of any beast.

Brigading was a task born more to temper the fires of the eager younger men more than it was to assure the sanctity of the village, though no task was without its uses- more often than not, however, you all ended up taking up a weapon and battling to your own ends.

Still, you took it seriously. 

You’d not so much been invited into the brigade as you’d one day picked up a bucket and started helping along in silence, though you probably would have been asked along eventually. 

Approval from the others had been slow to garner and yet it was strong, anchoring- you’d no intention of trying to shake it, though you believed it would be hard to.

With the thick wooden handle lying clenched within one hand, you stopped above the smooth, round top of a viking helmet, resting your foot against it as if you were at the edge of a cliff with a sword.

You’d rather be, at least in the day, when the smoke would be blown out and the air fresh and clear.

“-Codswallop!” The one with the protestant words was Duckmaw, who belonged to a set of intimidating burly arms and short-cropped, burned blonde-ish hair typically hidden under a helmet that had made him look bald, soot darkened face scratched and laying posed under your fuzzy brown boot. 

He was unusually brawny and bold for his breed but was also just as soft- he was an Ingerman. Ingermans, though bustingly fierce as any other Viking, also tended to be the most tempered.

“You lot are all the same- tubby poets, you are!” Bjorner spoke back with sharper words. He was the second, and a Thorston, though his second name, Evenson, did not quite match his ties. He also didn’t quite stand on par with his blood, a bit thicker and more prone to jumping into battle than the rest of his clan, who preferred a good bit of taunting first. 

His family was a branch-off- one of many, as there tended to be with the Thorstons. “Gooey hearts and even weaker swords.”

“Your words are of poor taste, though I’d expect no less from a bastard!” Duckmaw shrugged aggressively forwards, jerking away, half turning before he thought to face Bjorner again, stepping closer this time. He looked quite silly with his rounder, younger face and slightly more plump body, standing nearly chest-to-chest with a man who was about two winners his senior.

Absent from your lot were a Hilde and an Arne, who was a plump and tall, honorable nearly-man with blonde hair who was suspiciously absent. Away in a fashion that remained unexplained or pondered was a Jorunn, Frode and Hjerson and a Njal.

“Agh, the lot of them,” Trove spoke appealingly, panting slightly, having brought herself to your side, nudging you in the shoulder. She was thicker than you by about a half and a great deal taller, so her elbow landed more against the top of it than along the side, “We womenfolk know better, yes?”

You gave her a skeptical, apathetic eye before turning your attention back to the conflict, standing still and firm- she hadn’t knocked you hard enough to unbalance you though she had given you quite the hard jab, albeit half of it must have been without intention, the other half with surety and mild competition.

Trove didn’t take so much offense, probably more used to your silence and your stoic behavior now than before, when she also used to grace you with a gruff, judging eye.

“I’m no bastard!” Bjorner barked deeply, squaring his shoulders and stepping forwards again. You couldn’t make out all of it, the sound of splintering wood and the white noise of cooking everything raging for but a moment. “But at least my mother’s no manky whore!”

Gritting his teeth, Duckmaw didn’t back down, even as the thin brown furs still attached to Bjorner’s leather overcoat brushed up against his jaw. His arm- the one facing you- twitched up and down as if he’d wanted to lift it, meaty fists clenching uproariously. “Don’t speak of her that way, you-! You-!”

Your even face did nothing to hide your apathy, even as your eyes stayed trained on them.

Their argument went beyond petty bonds and snippish words- it was, in truth, not their argument at all- more an argument of their house, monoliths of Vikings to which they were of little consequence. It was some tiff over land and the excuse was woodstock. The conflict had grown itself into a mighty feud. 

“Tis the hobby of fools, to spend all their time arguing about their mamies,” Tove said, her freed red hair still doing wonders to blend her in with the fires, some sticking to skin and face, red, pale and slick with sweat like fish’s skin.

You nearly rolled your eyes. As you did, you caught something from the corner of your eye.

“How’ve you lot been doing?” You heard, nearly lost under the crackling of fires and crumbling of houses, the sound of battle-cry off in the distance. He had a plaintive, respectable voice, still somehow smoothe even under the assault of smoke and ash, all male and deep. 

…Ah. Here came the cavalry with a bucket of his own.

You graced swept blonde hair with a nod, what should have been wheat made russet by soot and fire, bursting from the back of Arne’s head where the front was covered by a metal mask- a hazard, as it was, metal being prone to heat and melt under the vicious might of dragon fire. 

You suspected, in a few years, he might have one mighty burn scar running down the side of his face- if he made it out of the whole ordeal alive, as it was. 

His clothes were torn and he sported a bloody gash on one arm- he’d gotten caught up in some battle, then. He was the only one of them who’d already been accepted by the warriors as one of their own, who’d taken up a sword with quiet determination as the rest of them stayed managing buckets.

You occasionally joined him- you hadn’t received any fuss either, and yet… Well, the others needed managing… Watching, more than anything.

He nodded back at you as you levied up your bucket, grasping it by the bottom.

You huffed a breath of hair, blowing away a heavy tuft of soot as it threatened to hit you in the face, unusually large yet very thin, almost enough to be called a burnt wood scrap.

“-That’s what I thought,” Bjorner said maliciously, distantly- he’d jerked forward, and during the time you’d been distracted, Duckmaw, younger and more naive, had faltered. 

You stilled. It didn’t matter so much who was what in this minor, petty battle of wills. It wouldn’t change the outcome. 

It was only by an odd fluke of politics that you’d ended up here, a fisher’s girl from nowhere island, and so while not at all illicit in origin, you were no better than a bastard. 

Here, in this world of blood and fire there was no room for the girl in the woods. You knew that with a quiet, simmering surety, painfully aware of the small square booklet in your back pocket, padding against your thigh as you moved, fresh leather delicately held shut with a clasp, pressing deeply the dulling, colored faces of soft, pressed flowers.

[xx-j4nu5-c4t5-xx]

look what finally remembered it has a tumblr account 💀 hi everybody

I drew a couple premades with colors based on albums that remind me of them, thought y'all would enjoy

nervous - who really cares (tv girl)

ripp - sports (modern baseball)

I ramble about them under here

janus shut up about tv girl challenge 💀 this isn't even really my favorite band lmfao I just feel like it suits nervous and pascal so well. there's this overwhelming vibe of longing in that whole album, like you had something wonderful and now it's gone and you're scared that that was the peak of your life, and it's all downhill from here. now it's just the memories and the bitterness and the things you left in each other's apartments. OUUGGH IM RGRGH AUGH

drawing-wise I like how nervous's drawing turned out. I have a tendency to absolutely destroy my colors and make them all muddy and blended so being limited to like five colors total and having to use the screen tones and dithering effects and stuff made it feel really... sharp, I guess? I don't like how it interfered with some of the details (like the face) but it was definitely a good way to tie everything together. main gripes with this one are the bandage on his leg (I know the blue is like symbolic or something but why is it so much darker than his skin it looks stupid) and the brick in the background because WHAT HAPPENED 😭 I finished this drawing at like 3am and I really thought I knocked it out of the park with that

ripp's is definitely worse though. the cover for who really cares is incredibly simple, but the one for sports is a whole picture, and I feel like I didn't lean hard enough into the yellows that dominate most of it. the piece looks nice, don't get me wrong; the colors are way richer than I usually would've chosen and it looks awesome, but... it doesn't look anything like the reference. which was kind of the idea. with nervous's, even though it's not incredibly similar to the album cover, you can see where I'm going with it. I don't think anyone would know that ripp's was based on the album cover unless you told them. I set myself up for failure the second I used more red/orange tones than the yellows and creams. whoopsie daisy I guess

I can't really pick out a single song that reminds me of ripp from this album, but I feel like the whole thing gives off "I need to get out of my hometown asap" vibes, as well as the weird awkwardness that comes with figuring out what to do next, which I feel absolutely screams ripp. go struggling small town boy! struggle to navigate early adulthood!

anyway idk I kinda hate both of them just because I've been staring at them for probably six hours combined and I'm about to explode

I might do more of these with other characters but there's not a lot of other premades that I associate with entire albums rather than random songs so idk we'll see

as a parting gift here's a shitty doodles of pascal and nervous as the dogs from twin fantasy by car seat headrest

(the words in the background are random lyrics from the album)

[boozenboze]

Hello it me again ^^ i would like à smutty fic about dom price x sub M reader were like the reader have a collar and a leash and price use it as à choking "tool", and can you put praise kink, gentle degradation kink like *your a good little whore* type of things, sir/captain kink, and knife kink. If you dont feel comfortable with anything feel free to remove it (and dont forgot the color code and the consent it important <3) (the color code is in general "green=evrything is okay, orange=slow down and red= stop evrything. In casse you dont know) english isn't my first language so if you don't understand anything you can ask<33 have a Nice day/night

John Price x Male reader

Summary: Price bought a collar and leash and wanted to test it on his husband.

Warnings- Smut,gentle degrading, sir kink, praise, choking kink

Females She/Her and She/They DNI

Remember the colors darling?” Price asked as he hovered over his husband that was fully naked. His eyes couldn’t peel off of is husband who blushing underneath him with the collar he had ordered off of Amazon.(They got everything)

“Aye aye Captain~” He responded as he felt the captains hand travel across his thigh. The collar on M/n’s neck was connected to a leash, and the male moaned when he felt the other man tug the leash. John chuckled as he flipped the male over, propping him on all fours. He had a good grip on the leash and tugged it which made M/n let out a chocked moan. Price ran his calloused hand across the males s/c skin before moving to his hole. He grabbed the small bottle of lubed and pored some onto the males hole, before guiding one of his fingers in.

“Ah~....-shit that hurts.” M/n moaned out in pain as Price moved his hand that was holding the leash and began to massage his scalp. M/n let out a noise of satisfaction as another finger was added to his tight hole. The pleasure finally seeped in as M/n began rock his hips back into Prices fingers.

“You like that eh, you want me to stuff this hole with my cock?” Price asked in a teasing tone as M/n whined, nodding his head. After a few more moments of preparation Price pushed himself inside the h/c haired male. M/n moaned out into the sheets, clenching on to them as he tried to adjust to his size.

“What color darling?” Price asked as M/n turned his head to look back at him.

“Green sir!Nngh~....can you move now, i’m r-AhH~.” M/n was cut off as Price began thrusting in and out of him. Price managed to hit his G-spot without fail, but stopped abruptly when he saw M/n slowly inching away from him. He gave the leash a firm tug which slightly enabled the males breathing. M/n whimpered under the pressure that was put around his neck.

“Don’t run from it muppet, you can take it.” Price spoke as he ran his free hand across the males ass. He pulled out his cock just enough so that he could see the males rim clasp onto his cock head.

“Well ain’t this a sight, just can’t get enough of me eh? Such a good little whore for me hm?” Price said in question as he tugged the leash a bit harder which made M/n moan. Without warning the blue eyed man thrusted back into him at a brutal pace that made the bed rock.

“Orange sir-Ngh~!” M/n whined as Prices pace slowed down drastically. Price admired the beauty beneath him that he found himself lucky enough to call his husband.

M/n’s moans and pleads were so loud that anybody could’ve heard them,though niether of them cares enough. The sound of skin slapping was the highlight in the room as Price pulled the male up by the shoulders.

“You wanna cum, hm? You want me to fill this tight hole with my cum?” Price spoke in a husky tone, the same tone he’d use if he himself was getting close.He nuzzled his face into the males neck, beard tickling the e/c haired males neck as he pleaded.

“Yes sir! Please fill me up.....augh~!” M/n moaned as Price thrusted into him one last time before they came together. M/n let put a string of moans as Price kissed his neck, occasionally sucking on it which was sure to keave hickeys. Price gave the leash in hand one more tug as M/n giggled in response which led to Price letting out a chuckle of his own. He gave the h/c haired males ass a firm squeeze before pulling out.

M/n fiddled with the collar around his neck as Price unlocked it with the small key he was given.

“We should do this again some time eh?” Price asked as he pulled off and tied up the condom he was wearing.

“Yeah we should, maybe I should make you wear this thing next time.” M/n said as Price gave him an amused glance.

“Very funny seargent.”

“Who said I was trying to be funny?”

[zahai]

pl lease

mushishi is probably up there as one of my favourite anime ever (and maybe even just media in general) and i finally decided to try and do fanart for it. it’s a bit rough but i’m proud of how it looks!

[astros-arts-inthestars]

✿GEMINITAY APPRECIATION WEEK✿ Day 5: Yellow Life Gem

I want them to go down to yellow with me!

YES THIS IS SO LATE: 1) It's my most overzealous one thus far, and 2) DESPITE the previous point, I still chose to play Minecraft the whole day instead. so. ahEM ANYWAYS! GEMPRECIATION TIME!

Something about Yellow Life Gem? Lore. LORE. LORE. Girl you KNOW what you're doing. Forced to be the first person the open the end portal in the Life Series, losing a life to that task, adding bits to her yellow skin that look suspiciously like the end portal, leaning a little too hard to being a yellow- Augh she is a genius and just so FUN! SHE GETS IT!! And leading them to the End to fight the dragon? Incredible. And should I even MENTION the Boogiepocalypse? SHE DID SO WELL!!! TWO PEOPLE LEFT!!! WHAT ELSE CAN I SAY!!!

✿Drop a reblog!! It spreads that love for Gem!!✿

also, flat colors under the cut! cuz i spent WAY too long on her design:

[tabsters]

The Twelve Days of Zodiacs - Day 1

"On the first day of Christmas, my Zodiacs gave to me, A snowball fight under a tree."

the beginning of a twelve day series, featuring yet another Starglass Zodiac X Zodiac Experiment crossover!

note: I originally planned to upload a chapter every day so that there would be a chapter every day until christmas. unfortunately, school decided to massively fuck me over the last week before break, so I will be uploading these every other day in order to maintain at least some of my sanity. I also won't go into each zodiac/constellation as in depth like I did for my previous TZE X SGZ fic because I have a lot less chapters to work with.

with that said, enjoy!

it should be noted that this story is in a modern AU, aka an AU where no magic exists. everyone is just normal and untraumatized! the modern AU names for the characters are listed below:

TZE! Aries: Alexios TZE! Scorpio: Serapion TZE! Gemini: Hannah

tagging @mythicalmagical-monkeyman @hyperfixation-tangentopia @maiawhimsicalt and @sweet-star-cookie

next chapter is here!

"Thanks for inviting me over to your family's house!" Cassie said cheerfully as she and Ciara trudged up the sidewalk to the house at the end of the street. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all!" Ciara assured her as she fumbled with the donut box she was holding. Cassie bought them for her family, but Ciara was the one who insisted on carrying it.

"D'you think your family will wonder why your only friend is a middle schooler?" Cassie tilted her head up to Ciara, a slow smile breaking across her face, while Ciara gasped in mock-offense.

The sophomore turned her nose up and continued stomping through the snow. "On the contrary, my parents were very happy to hear I was tutoring an eighth grader in algebra. They've been very excited to meet you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and my siblings too."

"You have three, right?" Cassie counted her fingers off. "Alexios, Hannah, and...?"

"Serapion," Ciara said as they approached the end of the street. "Sera for short. Both him and Alex are originally from Greece. I think they were also from the same orphanage.”

"Right, all of you are adopted. Oh, do you need help?" Cassie cast a wary eye to Ciara, who was simultaneously trying to hold the box and grab at her house keys.

“Yes, please.” Cassie shuffled around in the slushy snow as Ciara finally managed to unlock the door. “Mom! Dad! I’m- AUGH!”

Someone behind the door immediately grabbed Ciara, lifting her into the air and shaking her vigorously. Ciara shrieked in alarm, and Cassie was about to step forward to help, when both Ciara and her assailant burst out into laughter.

“Alex!” Ciara shouted, finally managing to wriggle her way out of his grasp. “You’re home already?”

“Hell yeah.” Now that he stepped back, Cassie could see just who he was. This must be Alexios, Ciara’s oldest brother. He was a tall, muscular man, with tanned skin and dark brown hair. Streaks of dark red were woven throughout his hair, and his eyes were obscured by a pair of aviator sunglasses. He flicked them down, looking over at Cassie with rich brown eyes. “And who might this be?”

“I-uh, well, I’m Cassie!” Cassie said, holding out the hand that was not holding the donuts. “Ciara’s new friend.”

“Nice to meet ya,” Aries said, high-fiving her hand instead of shaking it. “Those donuts? Don’t mind if I do.”

He opened the box, took a glazed donut, and then promptly left. Cassie stared after him in bewilderment.

“He’s…certainly something,” She said, looking at the box with a donut missing. Would Ciara’s parents still like her if her gift had been tampered with? “Are all the rest of your family members that…wild?”

“Nah.” Ciara shut the box, setting it on the living room table. “Just him. Alex is the rough one, Sera is the quiet one, Hannah’s the bubbly one, and I’m…” She waved her hand around aimlessly, searching for an adjective that would describe herself.

“The artsy one?” Cassie supplied, and Ciara smiled at that.

“That sounds about right.” She turned towards the stairs, waving Cassie up the stairs. “C’mon. I’ll show you my room.”

The stairs were decorated with various pictures of the family over the years. Their adoption certificates. Vacation photos. Pictures of their first days of school. Trophies and certificates of their accomplishments.

Alexios Ramirez-Moreau, First Place in Boys’ Wrestling.

Serapion Ramirez-Moreau, National Merit Scholarship Finalist.

Hannah Emiline Ramirez-Moreau, President of the National Honor Society.

Ciara Linh Ramirez-Moreau, Winner of the Greenwood High School Art Competition.

“Wow, your family really is good at stuff, huh?” Cassie asked as they made their way into Ciara’s room. "You all got awards for things."

“Yeah, I guess so.” Ciara cracked her knuckles, hip-checking her door open. “Then again, art doesn’t really compare to…I dunno, Gemini is involved in half the clubs at school and Sera’s an academic weapon. And Alex was, like, the most popular kid at school back when he was still in high school.”

“Well,” Cassie said, gazing up at the numerous paintings, drawings, and photographs tacked up on Ciara’s walls. "I think you're one of the best artists I've seen."

Ciara laughed, the sound bright and clear. She thumped Cassie on the shoulder. "Thanks, Cass."

"I like your room!" Cassie turned in a circle in the center of the room, taking everything in. The pink and purple rug looked knitted, and the wall was painted a light lavender purple. "It's really—woah, is that a snake?!"

"Oh, yeah." Ciara walked over to the snake terrarium sitting on her desk. "It's not mine, though. It's my sister's girlfriend's pet snake. I'm pet-sitting while she's in Japan."

"Woah." Ciara's so cool. "What's its name?"

"Asclepius." Ciara snapped the top of the container off, holding her hand out for the snake to crawl onto. "The girlfriend really likes Greek mythology." The snake curled onto her palm, hissing contentedly. And then Ciara held her hand out to Cassie. "Wanna hold him?"

"Oh! Uh—sure!" Cassie held out both her hands, cupping them together. Ciara slowly coaxed the snake into Cassie's hands, the snake flicking its tongue out as it went. Cassie lifted her hands to her eyes, all the better to see the tiny snake. It was black, with beady little eyes. "It's so cute!"

"CIARA!" A distant voice called, getting closer, and then suddenly seeming to crash into the door. The door slammed open, both girls jumping in surprise. "Hey!"

Standing in the doorframe, evidently having run up the entire flight of stairs, was a short girl with long brown hair, streaked with black and white. Notably, her eyes were two different shades of gray. This must be Ciara's older sister.

Cassie shrieked in alarm and stumbled back, barely being able to hold onto the small snake. Ciara just sighed.

"Hi, Hannah." She waved half-heartedly towards the girl, then waved more heartedly towards Cassie. "This is Cassie, I think told you about her?"

"Nice to meet you!" Cassie quickly gave the snake back to Ciara, then stuck her hand out for Hannah to shake. "You must be—oh!"

Hannah, instead of shaking her hand, immediately strode forward and promptly administered a bone-crushing hug. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Ciara’s told us a lot about you!”

“She has?” Cassie asked, turning her head to look at Ciara, who was conveniently turned away, placing Asclepius in its terrarium. “Uh, what kind of things?”

“All good things!” Hannah finally withdrew her arms, patting Cassie on the head. “Hey, is that Asclepius?”

“Yep,” Ciara said, popping the ‘p’.

“Ugh, I wish Megumi could come back from Japan already.” Hannah flopped onto Ciara’s bed, spreading her arms and legs out like a starfish. “I miss herrrrrrr. Asclepius misses his mommy too, doesn’t he?”

“Megumi is coming back in two days,” Ciara said, tapping her fingers on the snake terrarium’s lid. Hannah only groaned more at that. “She’ll be back soon, stop moping.”

She leaned over to Cassie, stage-whispering loud enough for Hannah to hear. “She goes on the longest rambles about her girlfriend and they go on and on and on.”

“We have been together since freshman year!” Hannah sat up, pointing an excusatory finger at Ciara. “And don’t go yammering about how much I talk about Gumi when you talk just as much about your—"

“ANYWAY!” Ciara abruptly spun around, clamping a hand over Hannah’s mouth. “Don’t you have some club activity to be doing?”

Hannah scoffed. Cassie wondered what the dynamic of these two sisters was normally like, if they bickered this much on a daily basis. “It’s Christmas break. I’m done with everything. Speaking of that, what should I get as a Christmas present for 'Gumi?" Hannah asked, rolling over onto her side. "Ciara, you think you could draw something for me?"

"Commissions start at twenty dollars," Ciara said, sitting down next to her. "Actually, I'll give you a family discount: fifteen dollars."

"Not worth it, I know that only covers, I dunno, line art." Hannah looked over at Cassie. "What about you? Can you draw?"

"Me? Oh—uh, I'm decent at it." Cassie interlaced her fingers together. "But I think you should take Ciara's deal, she's really good. And I think she knows what your girlfriend likes better than I do."

"Yes, my baby sister is the best, isn't she?" Hannah cooed, grabbing Ciara's face with both hands. Ciara squawked in alarm, falling backward onto her bed as Hannah pinched her cheeks. Cassie laughed, and Ciara scowled.

A distant thump sounded at Ciara's window. Cassie drew back the curtains, peering through the snow-covered glass. Two small figures were waving up at her. One she could recognize as Alex, while the other was a slender, dark-skinned man with dreads. Ciara managed to wrestle her sister off her and look out the window.

"Are they having a snowball fight?" Ciara asked, rolling up the window. "Idiot one and idiot two."

"Who's that with Alex?" Cassie asked, pointing towards the shorter man. Alex made everyone look tiny.

"Idiot two? That's Sera." Ciara pointed at her brothers, then at her window. "HEY! THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"SORRY!" Alex screamed up to them. Sera waved his hands in surrender.

Hannah squinted down at her brothers, who had both returned to hucking lumps of snow at each other. "Let's go join them!"

-

Five minutes later, all three girls were suited up in coats and hats and mittens, ready to wage war in the snowy battlefield of Ciara's backyard. The large tree standing in the center of the backyard marked their territory.

Cassie wondered how on earth she got herself into such a position.

"Take your positions!" Alex shouted, and everyone besides Cassie began to strike utterly ridiculous poses. "If you fall, you die!"

"This is a thing we do," Ciara whispered to Cassie as she struggled to stand on one leg. "If all four of us are doing a snowball fight, or any fight for that matter, we do...this. I don't remember why we started doing this, actually, it's just kind of a thing we do."

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Hannah whispered on Cassie's other side, where she was standing in what Cassie believed was the Sailor Moon pose.

Cassie breathed in, then breathed out, closing her eyes. Then she raised her right hand above her head, and lowered her left in front of her stomach. Both hands were clutching fistfuls of snow. She could hear Ciara and Hannah snickering from next to her—in a good way, she hoped.

She opened her eyes dramatically, moving her hands in a circle. "Let's kick some butt!"

Both sisters shouted in agreement, and everyone began running towards each other. It soon turned into a game of 'everyone throws snow at everyone', but it was enjoyable nonetheless.

Unfortunately, it became glaringly obvious as to which side had the advantage.

"Take out Alex!" Ciara shouted as she was being lifted up into the air by her older brother. "He's the strongest, take him out, take him—AAAAAA!"

Alex's maniacal laughs filled the air as he marched sideways and dropped his sister into a big pile of snow. "First kill! Sera, open fire!"

Sera, who seemed to be less willing to partake in these shenanigans than his siblings, muttered something about having to study extra later. Nonetheless, he dumped a truly unreasonable amount of snow onto Ciara's head.

Ciara groaned dramatically, before falling to Cassie's feet, clutching at her chest. She gestured with her hands for Cassie to lean down, presumably so she could deliver her 'final words'.

"Avenge...me..." Ciara murmured in a raspy voice, before letting her head go limp and sticking her tongue out. Cassie gasped, all the better to add to the drama, and clutched Ciara's hand in both of hers.

"I will!" Cassie declared as Alex and Sera turned their attention towards the remaining players. "I promise!"

"RUN!" Hannah screamed, taking Cassie by the wrist and dragging her to the far end of the backyard, behind a cluster of bushes.

"Okay, we need a plan," Hannah whispered as the two boys circled the backyard, pretending to look for the other two. "I'll take Alex. You take Sera. He's easy to overpower, just, I dunno, shove a bunch of snow into his face and push him over. I'll hold off Alex as long as possible. Hopefully, if we tag-team them, we can get a chance at winning."

Cassie nodded. "Got it!"

"For Ciara!" Hannah held out her fist, and Cassie bumped her own against it. "We'll avenge her death, for she died far too young, far too early!"

"I—you know this is a game, right?!" Ciara shouted, raising her head up. "I'm not actually dead!"

Hannah sighed, her anguish evident. "Sometimes I can still hear her voice, poor soul."

They stood up at the same time, pointing towards their enemies. "CHARGE!"

Cassie immediately ran towards Serapion, who was very taken aback by her head-on approach. She doubted that she could wrestle an eighteen year old to the ground, so she settled for a surprise attack: run towards him, shove a bunch of snow into his face, and knock him over while he was disoriented.

And, surprisingly, it worked. A bit too well, in fact, and Cassie suspected that Sera straight-up lost on purpose. Maybe it was to make her feel better, maybe it was so he could get out of the game quicker.

Doesn't matter, Cassie thought as she made sure her enemy stayed down (by piling more snow onto his chest). We're so close to winning. We're so close—

"AGH!" Hannah shouted as Alex dumped a large amount of snow on his sister's head. Evidently, he seemed to have gotten the exact same idea as Cassie, and he easily pushed Hannah over.

It was all down to this. One versus one.

Can I beat him? Cassie wondered to herself as they circled each other, round and round. He's way bigger and stronger. Can I really do this?

Alex began to run towards her, and all Cassie could think to do was go on the defensive. She reached her hand out, scooping up snow to form a makeshift snowball. The last line of defense.

"Sorry, kid!" Alex cracked his knuckles, rolling his shoulders back. "Nothing personal. I am impressed that you lasted this long, though. Now it's time to-"

"SQUAWK!"

"What—?"

A bird flew overhead, landing on the branch of a nearby tree. Alex briefly looked up, and Cassie seized that tiny opportunity. She chucked the snowball at him blindly, heart seizing in her chest, hoping for a miracle.

And a miracle she received, as the snowball flew in a glorious arc through the sky, hitting her friend's oldest brother smack in the face. "WHA—"

Cassie scooped up a larger handful of snow, shoving it into Alex's chest. And with that, the colossus toppled over.

For a moment, there was quiet. And then cheers arose, filling the sky.

"CA-SSIE! CA-SSIE! CA-SSIE!" Ciara and Hannah hollered, rising from the snow and attempting to lift Cassie on their shoulders. "CA-SSIE! CA-oh, SHIT—"

Cassie ended up face-down in the snow, as did the other two girls. "Ow."

And then Cassie laughed, sitting up, wiping the snow from her face. "That was awesome!"

Everyone else soon followed, Ciara throwing fistfuls of snow up into the sky. "You did it! You won! You freaking won!"

Alex walked over, holding a hand out to Cassie to pull her up. He was smiling from ear to ear, not a hint of disdain on his face. "You won. Nice job, kid."

I won.

I won!

Cassie smiled back, taking the boy's hand. "Thanks, Alex."

check out @sweet-star-cookie's starglass zodiac lore if you liked this!! questions about my lore are greatly appreciated!!

[ficbrish]

The Truth of It

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[AO3 Link]

[Kinktober 2023 prompt thanks to @absurdthirst! October 20th - Thighfucking]

[[TW/CW: Cptsd, blood, suicide (mentions, ideation, past attempts—girliepop goes through it), death mentions, self-hate]]

Summary: Vistri opens up about her suicide ideation.

Act I - Mountains camp - After the failed zaith'isk/Githyanki cure

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

“Vistri?” Shadowheart called out her name a second time; right next to her, on the same bit of seating, and she still didn’t answer. Not even her favorite people could shake Vistri from the mood she’d fallen into, bog-like and hollow.

The back of her neck stung hot with Astarion’s consistent frown. His eyes, sharp with professed concern, had stalked her ever since she’d messed with the Githyanki’s purification device. It wasn’t the first time she almost died in front of him. With that face, if she were gone, he could easily find another bedroll to slake his lusts. Vistri didn’t know why he was pretending to be so bothered about it! Her disappearance should be a non-issue.

A general or an artist would be able to point it out, someone who could look at the lay of the land and positions of its people, and read stories. While everyone else was gathered in a group circle, passing around open hearts, laughing smiles, and shared bottles, Astarion stood in front of his tent, glaring at his lover who could hear nothing but the displeasure in his eyes.

As Shadowheart called her name for a third time, Vistri stormed off with a growl.

She’d been a puzzle to Astarion for most of the day, but this really took the cake. It was alarming to see her blink Shadowheart out of existence like that. Sure, they’d all known each other for only a few tendays, give or take, but from the outside, those two could have grown up together. If Shadowheart couldn’t take control of her storm, Astarion had no idea how his ship would fare it. All raging waters, she stomped in his direction like a 50ft wave.

Before he could get a word out to question why she marched over in such a fitful state, she huffed, “Stop it.”

Something in her tone and approach immediately ruffled his feathers. The sheer unpredictability of her made his anxiety appear before she spoke, and whatever it was that got under his skin, spiked it. He didn’t expect these kinds of feelings to ever be molded by her hands. It was always quite the opposite.

Betrayed, he swallowed, then bit back, “Excuse me?! Stop what?”

“Augh!”

Astarion clicked his tongue and lightened his tone, “Oh, dear. Did you misplace your charm? Because I do miss it ever so much.”

Thankfully, none of the others were nearby to witness Vistri’s moment of disgrace. They were all sitting around the old cistern, laughing and having a pleasant evening. Even Lae’zel, who popped a vessel every time they stopped to rest and whose “cure” turned out to be a lie of her people, was unusually animated. She kept egging on Karlach to ask Gale more questions about his grandad. Vistri was more likely to elbow a dear friend out of the way for a better view than sit there unresponsive. Her favorite thing to do was fuck around, and she hated being serious.

So, again, what was she doing bothering him for? What-the-fuck did he do?! He was used to getting in trouble, made a habit of it actually; all he wanted was to know was why.

Astarion raised his brow, pointing to the merriment she’d left behind to come fuss at him. Then it knitted with the other one, “Are you sure everything’s all right—”

“No! That! Stop that!” One more version of, Are you okay? from his so obviously deceptive lips and Vistri swore she’d jump into the campfire.

“I’m sorry?”

“Augh!”

“Do you…? Do you need to sit down? Or?”

“I do not need anything. I’m fine! Please, spare me your false concerns.”

“False con—! Oh, I’m sorry! Did I dare to give a shit for once? Fuck me, I’m never doing that again.”

Frustrated tears began to well up in Vistri’s eyes. A crater opened up in her stomach, “No!”

“No?”

Because the thing was that nobody cared. No one who fucked her ever asked if she was okay, because Vistri was always fantastic, and even if one doubted that for even a second, all they needed to seek relief was just to sit back and enjoy her show. The audience may gasp at a particularly nasty fall, but she always shot up afterwards with a grand smile and confetti rained down on her head. Astarion asked without really being the first person to ask. He said the words, his brow screwed up, but there was no way in any of the hells that he meant it. And if she could just say, You scare the shit out of me because none of it can be real, then maybe he’d be able to clear things up for her.

But all she could articulate was, “Augh!”

Astarion sighed to calm his excited rage, “I’m lost. Am I speaking to Vistri? Or is this some sort of residual, pissed-off-tadpole effect?”

She bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting back with something truly nasty she didn’t really mean and would forever regret. Astarion looked like he was doing the same. His eyes were as sharp as his smirk, and there was something dangerous in his air. Like he was ready to fight to the death, and by the gods, so was she.

Vistri balled her hands into fists, so wanting to break whatever laid at the root of his giving a shit. To snap it like a twig, and watch it die in his eyes.

It was the only thing she deserved.

The tender glint in his eyes sliced through her, sharp like papercuts. She would lose his frowning lips, and the memory of her would disappear as others sucked them. Vistri wanted to kiss them before it was too late. Tangle herself in his tongue and his arms and his chest, until she was nothing but raw heat, just something for him to take. So the rage had nowhere to go.

She blinked back her revulsion, and the overflow spilled down her face. Embarrassed, her voice cracked, “My head…”

Astarion’s defenses shut down. His heart seemed to obey her voice; whereas before it raised his shackles and grit his teeth, it now stilled his rage and broke it down into tenderness. He stepped closer with the care he’d just promised never to show again. Instinctively, he caressed the sides of her head, as if touch could cure it. The gentleness of his gesture, its complete lack of hesitation, tore Vistri’s heart in two, with one side empty as the void and the other full to bursting.

“Did that wretched Githyanki device hurt you, love?”

She nodded. That wasn’t it, but it was an easier story. Besides, if everyone believed in it enough, maybe it would become true.

Astarion sighed, “I think you deserve a good lie down. Why don’t we head inside my tent?”

She shook her head, “I don’t want to be inside.”

He lifted her chin up with his finger to peer inquisitively into her face. Astarion’s eyes met hers with kindness, forgiveness, “What about a walk to clear your mind?”

She nodded her head gratefully.

“Then we’ll take a quaint little stroll around the cliff,” his voice was soft and a little cheeky, “Would that be nice?”

It was embarrassing for Astarion to act with the patience of a paladin, and even more so for Vistri to act in a way that required it. They wore those roles like ill-fitting clothes. With that awkwardness lingering around them, making the air sharp, they took a step forward. He led her to another part of camp, away from all the others and their merriment. To get uphill, they had to first walk a decline. He carefully guided her passed rocks that stuck out and ground that slid, like she was someone frail. A ghost had more presence than she did at the moment.

Discordant bits of laughter from the group carried over on the wind and hit their backs like mocking jeers, even though it had nothing to do with either of them. The only rooms they’d ever known filled one’s absence with group whispers. Astarion swallowed such blaring thoughts. Willing them away, he turned to the task at hand and gently brought her to the spot they claimed for themselves the other night.

“Care for a roll in the hay?”

She’d clicked her fingers, and about three bales of it exploded into existence around their feet that night. The proud cockiness in her smirk was too delicious not to lick up, and he’d devoured her with a similar pride. Guilty lusts settled in now with those memories. Astarion shook his head to clear it.

“Come sit,” he insisted, his tone harsher than he meant, “We wouldn’t want you falling over, and you seem rather dizzy.”

“Better?” he asked as she did.

Vistri nodded, but he saw it for the lie it was. Astarion knew more than most that sometimes there was no better. He sucked his teeth and sat down next to her.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hmm?”

“Your head, darling. Does it—?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The way she blew off his rare kindness brought him right back to his previous rage, like he’d never left it. His mood visibly soured.

“You’re doing it again,” she muttered.

Astarion scoffed, “Pray tell, what am I apparently doing again?”

She shook her head, “It’s so silly.”

“I could use a laugh.”

Vistri sighed, admitting bashfully, “You’re… You keep frowning at me. Like you care what happens to me—Or something! I don’t know what you’re playing at, but we both know what’s what here and I’d rather that than be played a fool.”

Her words struck his heart, and reminded Astarion of who he really was.

“Well… That wasn’t very funny. Try again.”

Vistri laughed, “You prick!”

For that second, he wasn’t a leech, and she wasn’t an empty glass. They stepped out of their roles to be Astarion and Vistri sharing a joke together. Then reality set in.

“I don’t like to see you hurt,” he said out loud, trying it on for size. It wasn’t wrong either. He felt like rats had been chewing through his veins as he watched her twist and shriek in the grasp of that alien machine.

“Afraid of the goods getting damaged?”

He smirked, “Obviously.”

Vistri pulled apart a bit of hay, watching it break between her fingers without seeing it, “I don’t know how to take… I mean…”

Astarion waited for her to continue, but more words never came. His hand reached for hers, “Vistri, I—I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”

That desperate look in her eyes pleaded for truth, but Astarion was lost as to what that was. A chill ran through him. She deserved so much more, and all he had to offer was himself, a falsehood.

He watched her try her best to believe in his words, and squeezed her hand, “Do you think it brings me pleasure to see you in pain?”

Vistri raised an amused brow.

Astarion chuckled, “Yes, of course that, but it’s not the same, is it?”

She smirked and scratched the back of her neck, “No.”

“Even with that, it’s not so much seeing you in pain, as it is seeing you let me do it.”

“Seeing me let you do what?”

His smile was devilish, “Anything I want.”

A bit of shyness colored her agitation. The more he watched her expression, the more it seemed to change to sadness. There was so much beauty to take in from the distance, but Vistri was staring out at nothing.

“Yeah,” she said.

Astarion brought her knuckles up to brush them with his lips. And kissed them bump by bump.

“My pretty pet… What is it that bothers you so?”

Vistri sighed, “You’re being nice outside of the bedroom and it’s weird.”

He scoffed and dropped her hand, “I’m nice!”

She leaned in and raised her brow.

“Don’t look at me like that. You make me nice.”

“Why?”

“Why? I don’t know why. It… Ugh! Maybe it rubs off!”

Uncomfortable with the heaviness, Vistri joked, “Gods know we do a lot of rubbing.”

He chuckled, looping his fingers through hers.

She looked out into the distance again. So did he.

As they sat there, Astarion played back every word and interaction he’d had with her that day, the day before, and basically any time they’d ever spent together. He was trying to figure her out on his own, and the more he contemplated, the more vileness crawled up his throat like bile. Every detail he went through made her more vulnerable, which made him more of a monster.

“What is it about this time?”

He was surprised she spoke. It had been a while since either of them said anything, “Do you really want to know?”

“Yes. I’m asking because I really want to know.”

“Now, now, darling. We don’t bite without asking.”

Vistri smirked her apology.

“I didn’t know I was being any different. Except… Why did you jump into that thing? That device? Wait—Don’t answer that, just listen. Because then I thought… That’s not the first time I’ve seen you jump in like that. Countless times… And then there’s me. And that’s the thing that explains it all, isn’t it?”

“What are you on about?”

“I think you’re hoping something’s going to come along and finally kill you. Like you died ages ago, and the moment to pass on keeps running by and you’re just… Well, maybe you’re just trying to catch up to it,” Astarion spoke plainly, without any weight, just a statement. He cleared his throat upon finishing his last word.

Vistri dropped his hand and laughed, “Silly boy!”

They’d held on for so long, letting go felt like losing a limb. Their empty, damp palms were chilled by the air as it breezed by.

“Right. Silly me,” he said with the absence of amusement.

“What do you want here?”

“What do I want? I don’t want anything,” he made a grand gesture with his hands, “I’m simply revealing my revelations.”

She scoffed, “What? That I’m just waiting for death? Aren’t we all?”

He sighed, “Forget I said anything.”

Vistri felt her lips tremble. She felt so stupid, “That’s it?”

“I was concerned. I said my bit. We can move on if you don’t want to discuss it further.”

She sat there and raged. Who the fuck was he to pretend to know her?

“You don’t care.”

“I never said I didn’t,” he didn’t know if that was true.

Biting her lip, Vistri tried to pull herself together. She needed to breathe, but a big wave of something ugly threatened to slip out with every bit of exhale. Her past was like an octopus, and the constant vibratory tension from his worry ripped a hole through the steel walls neatly containing it in a forgotten corner of her mind. Like a clean, empty facility, it was abandoned, yet well-tended to. His queries poked through the hole and reached around inside, and if even one tentacle got wind of the crack, all eight arms could slip out, and its head would follow like liquid. 

Astarion could see she was on the verge of telling him something but needed a bit more encouragement. He grabbed her hand, “I think I do care. At least enough to wonder what that’s all about.”

Again, he didn’t know if it was true, but it felt… not like a lie.

“Promise me you’ll laugh?” she asked.

Astarion sighed, “If that’s what you want, I’ll do my best to oblige.”

“All right, then,” her smile was unnerving. It wasn’t just out of place in the moment, it was equal parts ‘grimace as a silent shriek’ and ‘grin of a delighted fey’, “I could tell you the story of what I was doing before the Nautiloid snatched me up. Does that sound good to you?”

“I guess…”

She still wore that same horrific expression, “I was on a cliff just like this one, trying my best to jump right in, as you put it before.”

As shocking as that was, it really wasn’t. He might’ve placed his bets on someone else if he’d have guessed, but he also wasn’t that surprised. Of course he was drawn to another soul as wretched as his. In the best of cosmic jokes, Astarion picked a mirror to play Cazador to. 

He answered slowly, carefully as if navigating a minefield, “Yeah?”

Vistri pouted, “You promised to laugh!”

Astarion gave a weak, “Ahahahaha…”

She rolled her eyes, scoffing, “It’s funny!”

“Sure it is.”

“Whatever.”

“While the thought of you going splat is endlessly amusing, your delivery was all wrong, love.”

“What a critic!”

“Try again.”

Vistri cleared her throat, ready to be dazzling, "Okay, Hold on... It was a day just like any other day—”

“Gods! Not like that!” he teased, “We’ll be sitting here until the sun rises again.”

She glared at him, “I see you expect perfection.”

“I accept,” he spread his fingers and collected them back with a sweeping wave, “No less.”

She smirked at him slyly “There once was a Drow named Vistri, who some say was quite the mys-try!”

Astarion nodded his approval.

She proudly continued her improvised little song, “She went to jump over a cliff, but it was a miss. She took a step forward, oh my she was tortured! Then down from the sky came a very bad guy, and a tentacle scooped her up northward!”

Astarion couldn’t help but actually laugh with her this time, “It’s not funny! But—While you were stepping over the edge?”

“Yes! One foot hovering over the abyss,” she giggled, “Then poof!”

“If that would happen to anyone, it would happen to you. Or me, come to think of it.”

Vistri wiped the tears from her eyes, “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s truly amazing, is what it is.”

“It never works for me, you know,” she said, “Any time I try to… Well. You know. It’s something in my magic, I was born with the powers of an old dragon I didn’t do anything to earn. My magic is always there—I didn’t ask for it, and more than just a survival instinct, it’s like a vengeance of life.”

“A vengeance of life? I can identify with that. I think I survived those two hundred years just out of pure spite. A stake through the heart felt like letting him win.”

“No matter what I try, it’s always okay in the end,” she continued, “I can’t even take myself seriously after a while. More than half the times I’ve… I’d be going over plans in my head of what to do later that evening. And after all those times, I’m still here.”

“I don’t hate that you’re still here.”

Vistri scoffed, “Yeah?”

“No, I mean it. I’m glad,” he took her hand back, “I benefit, at least.”

She smirked, but her eyes were dead. They filled and ran without noticing, just sitting there in her skull, barely looking out.

One “Ha” of a laugh escaped him that was more like a huff, “And immediately after, you had to fight for your life.”

“What?”

Astarion pointed to his head, “Tadpole. Big ship? Took us up? Remember?”

She chuckled, but it was so empty, “Shut up.”

“Do you really want me to? Or can I ask you another question?”

“Go on,” she said weakly.

“It’s rather broad, are you all right with that?”

She shot him a suspicious glance, but the accusation quickly melted into something else, “All right.”

Astarion sighed, and then simply asked, “Why?”

Like a child, she brought her knees up to her chest, and rested her chin in the crook of them. Her expression was thoughtful, not refusing. She looked like she was going to answer, and was just deciding how.

And then she didn’t. She just sat there and stared ahead.

The broken way he eventually said, “Oh, my darling…” pulled at her thread that was holding everything together.

“Don’t!”

Vistri was stiff as the rock around them. So unmoving, she was shaking.

“I’m sorry,” he said very calmly, “Is there anything I can do?”

She shut her eyes tight, and began rocking, “No. Stay there. Shush.”

He nodded and waited for her signal to do anything other than watch and freeze. The timelessness of the hells fell over their heads. Gravity felt steeper. Now was forever.

“Okay,” her voice broke the spell, and she looked up at him, nodding, to repeat, “Okay.”

Astarion flew around her, and for the first time outside of a whoopsie in battle or moment of fun, held her tightly, so tight, for the sake of his own aching heart. He kissed the top of her head reflexively. Warming her back with one hand, he cradled her face against his neck with the other. He genuinely wanted to do it, felt no ulterior motivation, but at the same time, a part of his mind marked his victory. Catching her up at a vulnerable moment, and being the shoulder she leaned on, would bind her to him like a warding enchantment.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered senselessly, “I’m so sorry.” He had no idea whether he was apologizing for whatever she couldn’t say, or himself. Perhaps both. Perhaps a bit more for his own wrongdoing.

Only it didn’t feel wrong. And that scared him. Frightened him.

Vistri knew she was crying but couldn’t feel herself doing so. She knew she was being held by him, but rather looked out and saw it from above and off to the side. She thought she looked terrible, and he looked so fine. Dashingly picturesque and tragic.

Nobody ever held her the way he did now. She never felt such warmth, and they were both such cold people. How was it possible? Was it some dream?

She started speaking, “We’re more similar than you know.”

Right then, Astarion predicted the gist of what she was about to say. He could tell by the look on her face and the way her tone itched at his brain, she had her own Cazador. She also walked around weighted by invisible chains held by a very nasty man. Same prison, different jailor; he was understood. He found a home there in that knowing. Still, he’d give her his own rusted shackles just to lighten his burden, even if it meant crushing her under them. Anything to soothe the wound.

He’d warned her so many times; he was a thing that ate. He had real no say in the matter, the curse that fueled his undead life was a restless jaw. If Vistri was looking for a guide to a kinder world, she wouldn’t find it in his arms. They belonged to another very nasty man. Even though it was different this time, he’d take her with him to Cazador’s lair and someone would die. If only one of them were to make it out of this mess alive, well, he was a scrappy survivor, and she was the type to ball up and welcome oblivion. Anything to be free.

“Yeah,” was all he said, and it was so warm. Like an embrace, it held her softly, making her feel like something meant to be protected. She nodded tearfully into him. Leaning on him like this was an indulgence, but he tolerated it at least enough to let it happen. Vistri knew she had to pull herself together. The home she found was rented, and she could only borrow so much. Astarion had more to give, but it wasn’t for her. There was no way she’d be one of the lucky ones.

He kissed her head again, and caught himself, “Sorry. Is it okay to touch you?”

She nodded harder than the last time.

His chuckle was relief. To her, it was a song. He held her tighter. She dissolved. He’d taken off her mask, stripped her of her costume, and naked, she cried into his chest, “I just want to die. I want to be dead. And I can’t. I keep trying, and I can’t!”

Holding her at a moment like this was a key part of his plan. Step one, open her legs. Step two, her heart. It was a system as efficient as it was ugly and cheap. And it made him ugly and cheap, but it also made him safe. He closed his eyes, Vistri’s tears soaking through his shirt felt like fire and it burned into his cursed, cold skin like a holy symbol; a brand. It was like her body knew what lurked inside his, called him out for the parasite he was even as she was oblivious to it, and fought back to defend against him when she couldn’t.

Vistri sunk into him, tucked into his warmth. She found her breath again in his arms, and in the moment she came back to herself, started to laugh.

He peeked down, “What are you chuckling about in there?”

Her eyes still freely flowed, silent and thick, but she was more present than before, “In where?”

“My shirt,” he said, “My damp shirt, mind you.”

“How is that my fault?”

He glared at her, “What do you mean, how?”

“I told you not to ask questions.”

“Well excuse me for wondering about your tendency to… To—”

“Try to kill myself?” she finished, her tone too light.

Astarion sighed. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn’t join in.

“You promised!”

“Let me let you in on a little secret about me and promises,” he said dangerously sardonic, eyes lowered, “Besides, I already pretended to laugh earlier.”

“Faking it doesn’t count!”

“Maybe I’d find it funnier if…”

“If what?”

If what?

If the others wouldn’t kill him before her corpse was cold? If they didn’t rely on each other every battle? If the very thought of her…

“Oh, I don’t know! I don’t want you dead! Is that so horrible to believe?”

His grumpiness was sweet. They were always pretending, with each other, with everyone else. Vistri knew it the moment she first laid eyes on him. That’s why every word he uttered that she ever wanted to hear made her ache all over with a dull sorrow, and why the words he pushed her away with were such tender caresses.

“Of course it’s horrible,” she joked, smiling, “I can’t give you what you want and kill myself! However will my two worst impulses co-exist?”

Astarion smirked, “Shithead.”

She smiled, and that sign of life from her made his blood rush.

He kissed her cheek to whisper in her ear, “If you ever feel such a desire coming upon you in the future, come to me, darling. I won’t provide you a real death, but I have plenty of little ones to give.”

His advances flooded Vistri with relief, she knew who she was within desire. Who to be and how to be had familiar answers, and reuniting with any sense of self was such a comfort, she had her first real sense of stillness since breakfast that morning.

He was so close, she prayed he didn’t hear the way her breath gave out.

“I heard that,” he muttered against her cheekbone.

“No, you didn’t,” she giggled heatedly.

“Yes, I did. Now, I know you want it, but I can’t give you that yet. There’s something you must do first.”

“Gods!” she groaned, “Please tell me you’re not about to request I promise not to throw myself right off this cliff!”

He chuckled, “I wasn’t born yesterday! That’s not a promise you’d keep in the long term. Then I’d have to call off whatever this is between us because you’d be lying just to get in my pants, and that would be awkward because your lie would have been exposed just after you tried to off yourself.”

She laughed loudly, “I wouldn’t lie! I would just refuse, and eventually you’d fuck me anyway.”

He grabbed hold of her wrists and leered at her seriously with a piercing expression. Time seemed to stop.

Astarion observed her reaction to pick apart her every emotion, willing his own to remain carefully neutral. Her confidence was so hollow. Her eyes gleamed with the delight of having him wrapped around her little finger, and yes, gods yes, he’d suck it and moan and beg for more, but he was the one really in control. He had all the power because he was clearly giving her something she never had.

The first cut and all that.

Her fingers played with his chest through his open shirt. His heart skipped on its own at the brush of their tips.

“And what about you?”

His mind had wandered, and while he was away, one of her arms broke free to reach for him, “What?”

“How tempting is this cliff?”

“Me? Oh! Right. That, uh,” he paused with a scoffing chuckle, “No, my dear. Sadly, it was my wish to live that landed me in this spot in the first place.”

“And since?”

Releasing her other wrist from his grip, he answered dryly, “Everything’s been fairies and rainbows, and all my days have had happy endings.”

Vistri smirked, raising her brow, “Well, they do now, at least.”

He flashed a heated smile and lowered his eyes, “Why do you care to ask?”

She squinted at his question, like it had the sting of an insult, “I don’t know! Why do you care to ask me?”

“You’re right. That was horrible! Let’s never care again!”

He expected her to laugh but she looked rather serious. “I didn’t mean for you to worry,” her tone was small, and younger than he’d ever heard.

His smirk was friendly and understanding, “If it helps, I was more curious than anything else.”

“Curious?!”

There was a contentedness in his playful tone, “They call her Vistri, ‘cus she’s a mys-try!”

“Oh, stick to readership, darling.”

He growled and tackled her to the ground. She was breathless underneath him, laughing like every spot on her body tickled at once. Some might call it happiness, and maybe it was; Astarion felt it as acceptance. Overwhelming acceptance. So adored, he was given anything he wanted, completely spoiled. And if he was invited to take, why shouldn’t he?

“Remember that favor, my dear?” he asked, pinning her forearms above her head. Before she could answer, he leaned in for a kiss, one that was gentle and hungry.

Her sighs were moans, “Maybe I’ll wait it out.”

He kissed her neck and whispered, “Could you?”

The way she shivered was her answer. Astarion grinned and stroked her throat with the tip of his nose. From the base of it to her chin, and sealed his gesture with another longing kiss.

She was his.

Even if it meant degrading herself. Being his little slut, bent over and drooling. He moaned on the next stroke of her tongue, overcome by the whim to fuck her senseless. His mind reeled with possibility. Just how far would she go for him, out in the open air, with the others just off into the distance? How could he give her a taste of a life that was worth living?

“Get yourself off for me, dear.”

“Here?” Vistri asked, grinning. Her heart pounded faster than it already was.

They weren’t exactly discreet, but only ever touched each other tucked away in the woods or his tent. Here, out on the cliff where anyone might see… It was like he was claiming her. Like maybe some small part of his mind, or some feeling deep down, knew how important she was going to be to him once he realized his truth. That if he asked her to cum in the open air under the evening glow, she was worth something.

“The sun is disappearing, and I’ll cover you.”

Her grin grew wider, even reaching her eyes. She tried to tug one of her arms free from his grip.

“Ah, ah! No hands."

She looked at him curiously. Maybe he’d changed his mind about her. Maybe he had a delightfully naughty idea. Maybe this was the start of his attempt to toss her off the cliff.

He unwrapped one of her legs from around his, and slid his thigh between hers, “Use me.”

“Okay.”

Showing her how to proceed, Astarion rubbed himself against her middle. She bit her lip and began to roll her hips. Her obedience was like a drug, and they passed it with their tongues where it melted into them and infected their minds worse than those tadpoles ever could.

“Good,” he praised, just above a whisper. He fondled her neck, and the hand he let go of shot to his curls. His fangs throbbed, so ready to take her that he gasped as if biting into something hot whenever they touched her skin.

She made a sound he had to shush, it was too personal and way too explicit.

“I can block you from view, but I cannot stop your sound.”

She nodded, sighing and rocking against his thigh.

“All the pieces come together,” he said as she pleasured herself on him, “You’ve always given yourself to me so willingly. Let me bite you. Now I know why.”

Vistri tossed her head back, craning her neck, and sighed, “There are worse things than dying in the arms of someone pretty.”

“And if I had killed you that night?”

“I hope you would have drunk me up.”

A full, wanting, warm acceptance of himself—Not just his charm, but the monster, the ugliness in him. She wanted all of it, treasured all of him. He’d never been good enough for anyone before, just a disappointment under an illusion. But she made him feel like a god.

He groaned, composure slipping, “Ohfuckme…”

“Okay.”

“Not yet,” his grip on her arm loosened enough for him to travel up her wrists and interlace their fingers, “You haven’t earned it.”

She shouldn’t surrender. It would just be another attempt at non-existence. Why couldn’t she have answered with something along the lines of coming back to life just to drive a stake through his heart? Astarion wished it had been anything other than wanting him to have his fill, even if it meant her destruction. It was her will to be his sacrifice, to be truly devoured. He shouldn’t yearn for her so completely; cherish the way, I hope you would have drunk me up, fell out of her so blissfully, like belonging to him was a good thing.

Vistri playing with the point of his ear made him twitch and toss his head. The moan that betrayed him sounded so pathetic.

“I could wait you out.”

He chuckled, “No, you couldn’t. As much as I want you, I’m stubborn. Thrill me all you want, love, I’m determined for you to be absolutely dripping before I give you that.”

She arched her back, “I’m close.”

She wasn’t.

“Already?”

Not nearly, but worried she couldn’t give him his fantasy, she played the part.

The muscles on her face squeezed up real tight, and as her breath grew more shallow, she exhaled with high-pitched, little cries. Her tension peaked and melted away, “Already.”

It didn’t fool him one bit. In fact, he was sure that wasn’t even her finest performance. Like she’d started to pretend and went somewhere else, forgetting she was still on stage. Or a whore with ‘first day’ nerves. He was frowning when she opened her eyes.

“What?”

“Did you just fake it?!”

Vistri’s eyes grew real wide, and having been called out, laughed breathlessly, “Gods!”

“I was right! You faked it!”

She got caught up in another wave of laughter, “I’m sorry!”

Astarion smirked and tickled her sides, “Faking it doesn’t count!”

Squealing and wriggling to dodge his hands, she protested, “It wasn’t a lie! It was an attempt!”

“An attempt?! What is that supposed to mean? An attempt!”

Vistri couldn’t get a word in. She couldn’t breathe, “Please!”

He stopped tickling her so she could answer. Her breasts bounced with her heaving chest. His palms roamed over to cup them, “Did you not like it?” He’d thought of it just for her, and played with her nipples to distract himself from sudden choking disappointment. Buried in arousal, the sting ebbed away.

“No, I love it! Your thigh is heavenly, but you have other, better parts for pleasing—”

“How much better?” he interrupted in a heated tone.

Laughing, she answered, “Better than anything in the world! And not just this,” she brought her hand between his legs and gave that beloved, rock-hard part of him a squeeze, “Although it is wonderful, you have so many other parts for pleasing.”

“Just not my thigh.”

“It pleases, just not enough to bring a bout of ecstasy.”

“Do you want to stop?” He would at her command, but wasn’t ready to lose her.

She ran her hand along it, “No.”

A bright feeling ran through his spine, “You’d like to continue?”

“I do,” her hips resumed their flowing movement.

Her validation killed his fears, and so grateful for the throne to her world, a soft smile nestled in his expression, tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Give yourself time to get there, darling. It’s the journey, not the destination. I can watch you burst any time I want, but for now I want to observe as you slowly unravel.”

“Okay,” she moaned.

“And no performances this time. I will be very displeased. Do you want me displeased?”

She shook her head, “No.”

Anything but that. She’d be good for him so he wouldn’t throw her out.

“Good. Now slow down. You’re not just any rutting pup. You’re my little dragon and these sensations are your treasure. Lurk among your treasures, dear. Survey them, indulge.”

Her thrusts followed the command of his voice. She let them linger, like a slow drip.

“That’s it,” he praised, squeezing her breasts until she gasped.

Astarion looked around, and no one was in sight. The others would stay on the other side of camp for most of the evening and had no reason to pass by other than Lae’zel and Shadowheart, but it was still unlikely either of them would see.

He tugged her shirt lower, stretching it until her breasts spilled out through the top. Gravity squished them into perfect spheres under her neck, and her nipples just peaked out.

His tongue felt so warm on them. The impact of bumping into his thigh and the tight grinding against his femur were her favorite treasures, and then his roaming mouth was added to her pile. She could feel her pants bunching up as they soaked with her, and the damp cloth pinched at her skin as she humped him. The sting of it was a rainfall of coin over her glittering pile of sapphires and amethysts.

Kissing her deeply, Astarion took her hand and moved it back to his bursting laces. Their fingers tangled, undoing them together. When they were loose enough, he pulled her hand through the opening and wrapped it around his cock.

“Gods!” he groaned as she stroked him skin to skin.

Throbbing under her fingers, pulsing, hard; the perversity of her hand dipping into his trousers, riding his leg, nearing completion; his taste, his smell, his focus trained on only her: These were diamonds, so sharp they cut her. But they were so beautiful! And clear, and shone so bright!

“If I outlast you,” she sighed, “Then I win.”

She might win. Astarion did his best to hold back, but he was leaking in her hands.

“What would you win?”

“The mess of you all over my skin.”

He tried to think of something else, anything else, other than the image that conjured. It brought him too close. Teetering on the edge and planting his feet there, he moaned and it sounded like something dying.

Vistri gasped as it met her ears, bringing her closer.

His hands wandered down to her bum, and squeezed it in both hands, adding more pressure to her thrusts, bringing her closer to him. Closer and closer. Her bones started to hurt, ground away by his, but that ache was a handful of rubies, red and lush.

“Harder,” she said.

Astarion tightened his grip, leaned into her movements. He held her so near she could nuzzle her face into his shoulder. His skin was a pearl against her cheek.

“Kiss me,” Vistri pleaded, and when he did, she lost.

“I’m—” a little possession, a bit of a wail, and she could no longer speak.

In her rapture, she ceased her stroking, gripped him like a pulsing cunt, then left her palm hanging limply under his laces. His eyes were fighting to roll back when she let go, and even as he was grateful for it, just the brush of her unmoving hand was enough to be dangerous.

He pinned it above her head to take it away, “And now you’re mine to take.”

Her face was flushed, her breath still gone. “Yours to take,” she repeated as consent.

Pulling down her trousers, he found a river of her. He pushed her thighs up into her chest and took a look between them. Her pants were soaking, their slit a dark spot.

“All mine?” he asked.

She nodded, giving herself to him entirely. The fact that he wanted it made her blissful, like she belonged.

“Well, well, well,” he brought his face lower and spoke between her legs, “Might I have a taste? You smell de-licious!”

“Yes,” she whimpered, trembling. He gave a long, lingering lick along that dark spot, and she arched her back, groaning.

Astarion lifted his head to take another look around. The position they were in now was a bit more conspicuous. A dark part of him wished the others were around to watch him feed.

He kissed the back of her thighs, and she didn’t let even one of them slip by without a reaction. His tongue wrapped around the soaking strip of her pants, and he peeled them up to the crook of her knees with his teeth. A hungry whine left him, being so close to her skin flushed with pumping supper.

His nose nuzzled the back of her knee, tangling in her underwear, “Turns out a taste was just not enough. Mind if I take a bite?”

“Please!”

Her back writhed pleasantly against his cock as he sunk aching fangs into her flesh. He hadn’t anticipated the force of her leg pushing against his face. Her arms were so much weaker, and her neck never offered any resistance. Oh, but he liked it! Astarion felt vicious, attacking and taking something that fought back.

Having taken enough, he forced himself to stop. He pressed his tongue against the wound until it closed and gave it a kiss. Then he licked up every drop of crimson dripping down her lavender thigh. His tongue strayed its course, finding her middle. Vistri grabbed his head as he indulged in another kind of meal.

It was one of his parts she said was good for pleasing. She’d already earned him with one little death, but he gave her another, and another.

After the fourth, she summoned her very best begging voice, “Please, fuck me!”

His face was covered and shining with her wet. It even dripped down his throat, mixing with smears of her blood, “I thought I was.”

“Bury yourself in me.”

He made a quick vow to himself that it wouldn’t be over the moment he did. Then dove in with an uncomposed groan, “Fuck’ssake!”

The genuine sounds of what she tried to fake earlier were in his ears, right under them.

“Already?” he asked.

“Already!”

His face screwed up tight with hers, and as she pulsed around him, he yelped with the effort to hold back.

At the end of his cock, her chest pried open as if split down the middle, exposing her insides like two heavy doors creaking their welcome. Astarion felt himself crawl up her gut and slip into her heart, where sitting inside it, he could reach up with clawed, wretched fingers and tear at her throat. Then he’d kiss it better, the only one able to do so, and she’d never leave his side.

He felt her fingers on his chest, and found himself facing a pair of attentive eyes.

“Come back to me,” she asked like it was a favor, with a touch of light affection, an air of breathlessness, and enough simplicity that it was safe to come back.

“Hello there,” he smiled.

Vistri pulled him close for a kiss so full of gentle, living heat it was a hearth.

“It’s okay,” she said, forehead pressed to his, “You can let go.”

Starved of something in her tone, his body released into hers.

“Vistri!” he called out her name like it was the only thing that could save him. Then caught himself, realizing he’d been loud enough to carry across camp, “Shit!—Huh!”

Her arms flew upwards, wrapping around his head as if to help him keep his soul from seeping out. She couldn’t help the way her body responded to his echoes of pleasure by leaping into another wave of ecstasy. Just to be with him. A reflex of hers that must’ve been borne from her haunting impulse to follow him anywhere.

Unable to leave her, he let himself slide a little in and out; slow, slight strokes. Then finally stilled. They stared at each other a long while before moving apart.

“We should get cleaned up.”

“Right,” he muttered, “Right.”

She kissed the tip of his nose and giggled, “You have to get off me.”

He pecked her ear, “But I don’t want to.”

She laughed heartily and tossed him aside, “Get off me!”

“I was comfortable there!” he whined.

“Tough shit,” she grinned.

Astarion smiled back with empty eyes, sure that her grin was meant for someone else; the person he pretended to be.

“Are you all right?”

Apparently, he was unable to hide. When a lie didn’t work, there were always deflections.

“I’m more than all right! How’s your head? Didn’t steal too much of you, did I?”

“Astarion.”

When deflections failed to take, the only thing left was trading one truth for another. What could he sacrifice to keep the main thing hidden? It had to fit the same feelings as those he already wore.

“I just keep thinking… And excuse me, it’s quite selfish,” he moved some hair out of her face, “If you’d gotten what you wanted, you and I would never have met.”

Her round eyes were so fragile as they looked into his. All of her walls were knocked over, and the part of her that sat there was all raw existence.

She grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers. “All right then,” she rolled those round, breakable eyes, admitting, “I’m glad we did.”

Vistri was his. He squeezed her hand as if to tell her, never let go.

Rooted to the spot, they sat together and looked out at the view, actually seeing it this time. They deserved to have a nice sunset. One nice sunset.

“You’re unusually quiet.”

“I’m just taking everything in. Look at it! Aren’t you glad we aren’t just stuffed in your tent?”

Astarion raised his brow, “Insulting my castle is no way to get invited back, you know.”

She giggled and nudged his shoulder with hers, “It wasn’t meant as an insult.”

“You sure?”

She laughed, “Are you scolding me, Astarion?”

“No!”

“You are! Like you’re my mother or something! Well… Not my mother. She wouldn’t give a shit if I hurt myself. She scolded me plenty, but only over being an embarrassment or an inconvenience. Sometimes both.”

Vistri never talked about her past with any of them. Not even himself, who couldn’t stop telling her about Cazador once he started. It made Astarion hold his breath, afraid to chase away her confessions with the slightest disturbance.

“Gods! How in the hells did I end up talking about my mother? What a silly thing…”

Astarion leaned back, “I don’t know. Probably for the same reason I mention Cazador from time to time. If she’s as bad as she sounds.”

Vistri chuckled, “Her and Cazador would probably be friends.”

“He did often call me an embarrassment and an inconvenience.”

Vistri looked down shyly, “You’re not either of those things to me.”

Astarion took her hand, “Thank you. And neither are you. You know that, right?”

“You flatterer,” she teased.

His smile was a heapful of sorrow. All his lies were true, and his truth was a lie. His pretty songs echoed his real heartbeats. His determination to trap her was a sham, for he’d got caught up in it himself. She was right, Astarion was a flatterer, but he also wasn’t.

Neither confirming nor denying his accusation, Vistri settled for the worst case answer. He was probably looking for an excuse to leave. They always met up for this so much later in the night, and the sun hadn’t fully set yet.

Not wanting him to go, she turned her attention back to the view around them, “You know this big crater around us was probably an ocean before?”

“Actually?” he asked, grateful for a change of subject.

“It’s what must have made this shape. Well, that or a god’s great big fist,” Vistri rambled, “But I bet we’d find a lot of old bones in this stone if we looked for them. That’s what would tell us for sure.”

Astarion brushed his fingers lightly over her fist. She opened it so his fingers fell gently into her palm. He stroked along its curves until she closed her fingers around them.

“Would they be fish bones?”

“Ancient fish bones! And they probably wouldn’t even look like any fish we know. They might even look like monsters!”

“You like those,” he smirked, “Don’t you?”

“I don’t think of you as a monster. I think of you as a vampire.”

Like he was part of a species and not just a classification of Undead. Natural, and not a twisted version of life. Heart aching with the idea, Astarion’s eyes softened, showing Vistri an emotion she wasn’t sure he was capable of. Something she’d given up on ever earning from anyone. 

“A rather refreshing perspective. Just look at that waterfall! Isn’t it darling? And that little river that runs with it.”

Vistri nodded her head against his breast and stated theatrically, “All that remains of a mighty, prehistoric sea.”

The colors in the sky were candy-bright before they grew dark. They were still holding onto each other’s hands when the stars came out, even though they’d shifted positions as often as conversation topics.

It was only allowed because they pretended not to notice.

Lying down was better for looking out at the stars, but Vistri was so exhausted, it was hard not to slip into trance whenever she blinked her eyes. Astarion watched it take over, her face tucked in the nook of his shoulder.

Poor thing. She didn’t deserve to be cast under his spell, another of his cursed conquests. Even though Baldur’s Gate was still far away, and the tadpole took away the power of compulsion, every time his heart skipped for her, it sang, Caz-a-dor, Caz-a-dor, take her to Caz-a-dor! Any time he felt a part of himself wishing they’d met much sooner, Astarion was reminded she would have just been discarded like all the rest.

Sighing, he tried to slip into his trance. He closed his eyes. Opened them. They were on a cliff, how stupid would they be to remain unconscious here. Careful not to rouse her, Astarion untangled himself from her grasp to get up and carry her.

With his cursed heart pumping her dragon blood through his muscles, she was so easy to whisk away. He had to look where he was stepping, but her face proved such a distraction. The moonlight bounced off her silver scales and set her periwinkle skin aglow.

He smiled, stopping for a moment to appreciate—”Mother of fuck!”

Lolth didn’t guide her Drow towards pretty memories, she filled their heads with living nightmares. Whatever Vistri saw in her trance, it wasn’t bunnies. Still deeply within it, she’d reached out and punched Astarion vaguely in the nose with a whimper. He almost dropped her.

“Hells, girl!” he muttered, readjusting her in his arms.

At least some part of her fought back. The pulsing pain in his face was a reminder of what he deserved. As he walked passed the dying campfire, he leaned over and blew angrily into it, hoping that was enough to revive it but not really giving a shit either way. Then he tucked them through his tent flaps, and set her down with care.

She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Just one part of her face; whether the metallic scales across her brow with her eyes closed under them, the shape of her nose and a peek of cheekbone at the side, or her pouting lips that rested over her chin; was equivalent to an entire sunset watched from a cliffside, on a mountain, towering above lively rivers and waterfalls. Such beauty required a tenderness he was too base to give. Pride in ownership soiled the sweet whispers of his heart. Greed reverberated through him, and loathing for himself echoed out of every pore. 

Astarion frowned as he surveyed Vistri on the floor of his tent. She couldn’t be too comfortable. Torn between the idea of fixing it and accidentally waking her, he started to pace around for a solution.

Like a sickly, potent stomach acid, he’d consume her slowly; digested through the mouth, by his tongue. His doing. He had a rot he needed someone else to hold.

With no good way to toss her into a bedroll, he made a nest of some blankets, and rolled her on top. Treating her like a baby bird, he adjusted her neck to rest on a cushion. He moved hair away from her face, caressed her cheek, and stopped himself from planting a peck on her brow.

He changed his mind as he settled in next to her. His racing thoughts made trance unreachable, but when his lips met her cool forehead, a peace came over him. Astarion took a deep breath through his nose before pulling away, and his eyes thickened with a bit of moisture.

“Rest up,” he whispered. And when he next closed his eyes, trance came to him. Unlike hers, it was his only refuge from nightmares.

[Click here for my other Kinktober one-shots]

[disticfiction]

Ronen's voice carried across the lake, but not far enough for anyone to hear his cries for help. He was dragged miles from shore, his hand and shoulders sticking above the water. He wasn't sure what got into the normally friendly giant squid, but one moment he was walking along the beach, on a nice moonlit stroll, the next he was screaming for his life as the large tentacles wrapped around his waist and pulled him into the water.

He wriggled uselessly as he felt the tentacle tighten around him, then two more grasp at his legs. He gasped, the creature suddenly pulling at his pants. Even through the water, he could hear the material rip, his pussy exposed in seconds. It was uncomfortably cold on his skin, his slit twitching, the tentacles slimy, but perhaps that was a blessing.

Without any time to prepare, the squid spread his legs, a fourth tentacle swimming up and pressing against his entrance. Ronen yelped, his body stiff as he felt the soft but deceptively strong appendage grind into him. It didn't penetrate, but rather played, teasing him along his delicate folds.

"S-stop... what are you... doing?"

He blushed as he felt the suckers move inward, sticking to his clit and vulva. It's movements were curious, deliberate. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought the beast was doing it on purpose.

"Augh! No!"

His brow furrowed as the suckers rubbed back and forth, massaging his cunt in ways he never imagined. He tried to escape, to break free, but the creature was too strong. And without his wand, he was useless. All he could do was scream for help, his throat parching almost immediately.

He was too old for this.

"Please..." he begged, his mostly submerged body shaking.

The squid made a cooing sound, rubbing harder, then stopped. Ronen's clit was hard, his pussy painted with small hickeys from the suction. A brief moment of relief mixed with disappointment surprised him, but his eyes widened as he felt the tip of the tentacle return to his now throbbing entrance.

"No..."

With one swift, unforgiving motion, the length forced in, working its way through the tight, elderly ring of muscles and stretching it open. It felt so good. It shouldn't have, but it did. Ronen arched back, his scream echoing through the air as his entire passage was reshaped by a monster with no history of violence.

As the pleasure took hold, his eyes squinting, the confused charms professor managed to look down, catching a glimpse of the creature's eyes. Usually a bright, positive yellow, they glowed red beneath the surface. Of course. The squid was cursed. To what end Ronen could only guess, but his thoughts were cut short when the length began thrusting in and out. Hard.

"Aaaaugh!"

His scream rattled the waves, the tip of the tentacle banging against his cervix. The texture was so strange, so flaccid, yet strong enough to twist every nerve inside him. Tears welled in his eyes as the cups rubbed ruthlessly against his wrinkled walls, the upper skin scaly. No part of the tentacle was safe, but it felt amazing. The sudden onslaught of pleasure was too much, his flabby stomach coiling with every pump.

"Aaugh! M-Merlin's beard! I'm going to... cum!"

A few strokes hurled him over the edge. Drool rolled down his chin as his hole clenched, pulsing with his unwanted orgasm. His eyes rolled back, his teeth gritting as he questioned his own sanity. It couldn't possibly feel that good, yet every neuron in his mind was racing, rapt in ecstasy. The water was cold, but his cunt was hot, the slippery tentacle creating a friction he didn't think possible.

"Ugh..."

His tongue hung out as his cheeks blazed. His chest tried to heave under the tentacle holding him captive, desperate for air. How anyone could turn such a friendly beast into a lustful rapist was beyond him, but he couldn't stop his walls from pusling around the aquatic flesh. It didn't pull out, but rather rode the waves of Ronen's bliss, keeping him full and sensitive.

And then the spasms calmed. As a shred of his clarity returned, Ronen counted his blessings. No matter how much he wanted to be rescued, it was too late, and he was grateful most of his body was submerged. No one would see him in such a sorry state. His hole had been violated, but at least he still had some pride. He would simply have to wait for the curse to wear off or for the squid to get tired. He shuddered at the thought, but it was still better than the alternative.

If someone saw him so pitiful, so vulnerable, so used, he would be irreparably mortified.

"Hey, wha—?!"

Suddenly, the tentacles spread his legs further and hoisted him out of the water, into the air. The cool breeze sent a shiver up his spine, but it was nothing compared to the new sensation between his legs. The long feeding tentacles wrapped around his knees, one of the clubs slapping against his bulbous clit.

"Ahh!"

The suckers pulled against his tender nub, making his muscles flex, while the tentacle still buried deep inside him began to thrust once more. Harder. More passionate. Eyes wide, Ronen writhed helplessly against the squid's relentless assault, the swelling appendage slamming in and out. His mind turned hazy, his vision blurring. It wasn't his imagination—the tentacle was getting bigger, stretching him wider.

He came.

"Aaaaugh! Nnngh!"

He came again and again, his insides reshaping to fit the beast's every thrust. He had no choice. He had to accept it, to adjust, even when he thought he reached his breaking point. His crease strained, turning a deep shade of red, the pounding unstoppable. His clit throbbed, then released a torrent of fluids, each orgasm more powerful than the last.

"Ah! Oh! Ugh! Please... STOP!"

His eyes rolled back again, a wild smile stretching across his face. The sound of slick smacking filled the air as the world spun. For a moment, Ronen could swear he saw two figures standing on the beach, but he didn't care. His hole felt incredible, his walls chafing from the abuse. He could feel the irreversible damage, the pleasure so intense it left no part of him untouched.

"Aaaaaaugh!"

Another orgasm. The old wizard shuddered, his body trembling with need, a fire spreading through his veins. Every inch of his pussy begged for more, the pleasure burning away any shred of dignity he had left. All he could focus on was the delicious stretch, the way his insides clenched desperately around the invading tentacle. He was owned, possessed, by a sea monster. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once, knowing he was powerless to resist.

He didn't want it to end.

"Ah! Ah! C-cumming! I'm... cumming! Aaaaugh!"

A bright light suddenly flashed over the squid's head, blinding the creature temporarily. It hissed loudly, its free tentacles covering its eyes in a daze. As it thrashed about, its grip on Ronen waned, until he fell into the lake below.

"Mmmph!"

As the tentacle inside him ripped away, sliding along his walls, Ronen wailed. The thick appendage was replaced by water, his gape wide and unable to close. Sinking deeper and deeper into the depths, the air left his lungs. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, his body numb everywhere except the one area that continued to pulsate. Exhausted, he looked up at the sky, watching the moon fade in obscurity.

When he woke, he gasped, fluids spewing from his mouth and cunt. Coughing, retching, then silence as he collapsed, wheezing softly. After a time, he heard voices in his head, though he couldn't make out what they were saying.

A little longer and they became clearer. One sounded comforting, the other deriding.

Slowly, his eyes opened. They widened when he realized a man was holding him in his arms. Sharp, his colleague and friend. Though still paralyzed with pleasure, humiliation overwhelmed every emotion. And if that wasn't bad enough, the Headmaster stood above them, pointing and laughing.

"Fool! Did you not hear that one of the students accidentally spilled amortentia into the lake?! I closed the beach for this very reason!"

Ronen whimpered, his hole twitching. So that was it. But how could he have known? He was in Hogsmeade all day, tutoring children in charms. Sharp replied with something witty and curt, giving the Headmaster pause, but it didn't matter. They had both seen him at his worst, his hole red and ruined.

As the two men argued, he let his head fall into Sharp's lap, his eyes drifting back to the lake. It felt so good, and the proof was everywhere. Even his belly couldn't hide what happened to him. He was fully exposed. Sharp, he might have been able to handle, but Phineas Black? His boss? His rival? Anyone but him would've been a mercy.

When he looked back up, he noticed a flicker of sadistic joy on the younger man's face, his mustache arching upwards. His dark eyes fixed on the abyss between Ronen's legs, staring at the pleasant palpitations. If not for Sharp, he had a feeling Phineas would pick up where the squid left off.

And maybe, just maybe, part of him wanted him to.