unhingedbutpretty

[unhingedbutpretty]

The cambion raised her arms to the sky, wings unfurling in a sweeping, majestic arc. But before Nyssala could blink, the camp around them dissolved into nothing, replaced by an unnatural darkness so intense that even Nyssala’s eyes — so used to shadowy places — couldn't see through it.

It wasn't long until she realized that it wasn't simply darkness. When Mizora spoke, it all clickled. She was dragged to the hells. Again. For the second time in less than six months. Nyssala’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t the first time she’d messed up with a careless remark, but this time? This time, she’d really outdone herself.

Her heart thudded violently against her ribs, each beat a panicked drum warning her of impending doom. Her breath came in sharp, shallow bursts as if her lungs forgot how to work properly. A cold sweat trickled down her spine, making her shiver despite the heat radiating from the smoke. Terror wrapped around her like a vice, freezing her limbs and locking her voice in her throat as Mizora raised her hand at her with bright, unnatural flames dancing through her fingers.

"Taste it, if you are brave enough."

No, I’m not brave! I’m a coward, a complete fucking coward! Get me out of here, pleeeease!! — She wanted to scream, to yell out anything, but her mouth stayed stubbornly shut, paralyzed by sheer, bone-deep fear. Every instinct screamed at her to move, to do something, but she stood there, mute and wide-eyed, trapped in the silence of her own dread.

Still...

Mizora said she would keep her safe... So maaaaaybe she had nothing to fear, right?

... Right?

Well, obviously, some would say that it wasn’t exactly wise to trust a devil. Then again, cracking jokes at a devil was not the best move either. Spacing out while that same devil spoke was even dumber. And of course, blindly agreeing to whatever the devil said was peak idiocy. So what's one more unwise choice, among the sea of horrible decisions that defined Nyssala's life until this very moment?

Nyssala forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. The air was heavy, hot, almost suffocating, and alive with a palpable rage that seemed to seep into the skin and course through the blood. It forced an unrelenting tide of emotions into her mind — terror, fury, desperation, and an insatiable lust. But not the kind of lust she was used to, not the kind of lust she profited from — it was lust... for battle. For blood. For the searing thrill of violence. The yearning to feel the weight of a sharp blade in her grasp, to drive it deep into yielding flesh, to twist until the slick, visceral squelch of entrails pulsed between her fingers. It was overwhelming, almost unbearable, and it took her completely by surprise.

Violence was woven into drow life — bloodshed was as familiar to Nyssala as breathing, something she had witnessed countless times since childhood. But she had never truly embraced it. Even when she felt the urge to harm someone (on purpose, that is), she'd never mustered the courage to do so. Instead, what clung to her more fiercely was the unshakable belief that she was weak, powerless, a helpless creature destined to fail. Her mother had made sure of that, repeating it endlessly: no one expected her to survive long enough to make it into adulthood.

Yet, here she was.

Her eyes widened, and a strange exhilaration took hold. The terror was somehow still there, but it was overshadowed by a raw, primal rage that throbbed in her veins. An electric surge of power coursed through her, making her muscles tense and her blood sing as the fear was replaced by a savage, untamed anger. For the very first time in her life, she didn’t feel vulnerable or small. She felt invincible, unstoppable, like she could tear apart anything foolish enough to stand in her path. And it felt so... good. A wicked grin split her face as she reveled in this newfound, fierce feeling.

Gods, she didn't want it to end.

Every cruel face that ever sneered at her came rushing back: the mean cousins who tried to drown her in the Donigarten and mocked her, the siblings who beated her, the priestesses whose whips sang against her skin, the matrons whose cold eyes promised death. Then came the lecherous men in taverns with their dirty grins, the nobles at their depraved parties who thought her nothing more than a plaything. One by one, they flashed before her mind, and she felt as if she could take them all.

"This... is incredible..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, carrying an almost child-like wonder, except for the vicious glint of her eyes. "Every whip, every bruise, every disgusting smirk — it's like I could repay them ten times over! Hahaha! I could split Gortash in half with my bare hands right now!"

So this is how it would be, to feel the hot, coppery tang of blood on her tongue, watch their bodies pile at her feet? Oh, how she loved it.

A vivid melody unfurled in her mind, sharp and insistent. She could clearly hear the pounding of drums in a deep, thunderous rhythm driving the pace while gravelly lute chords rasped out a raw, almost metallic undertone, a dark edge that scratched at the ears. Layered over this, a violin's notes sliced through, swift and sinuous, adding a tense, almost manic elegance that danced over the deep rumble. The composition thrummed with life, each element weaving together in a powerful harmony that hinted at both danger and exhilaration. She would have to remember to write it down afterwards, along with the lyrics that came rushing through her thoughts.

"Red, red river, come and rise, Bathe me deep, baptize my lies Flesh and bone, they bend, they break, In this symphony of blood I take."

A wild, unexpected laugh burst from her throat as she realized she had been singing aloud. For a moment, she felt so proud of herself for it… But suddenly a flicker of doubt tugged at her, making her smile falter. Was this right, though? She never thought this way before. Never thought about these... Things. Not like that. This bloodlust, this craving for carnage — it wasn’t who she was. Or was it? The feeling thrummed through her, insistent, off-putting. But why did it feel so right?

She brushed the doubt aside, shutting her eyes and reveling in the rush. It wasn’t a problem if it stayed in her head, was it? Just thoughts. Just fantasies. Harmless... wasn’t it? She wasn’t truly hurting anyone. And once whatever Mizora was doing is over, nothing of that would matter.

She would go back to her life, as if nothing happened.

Back to the weak, powerless, pityful chunk of reality she called a life.

Nyssala's breath caught in her throat the second Mizora's claws dug into her hip. A quiet hiss escaped her before she could stop it, a mix of nerves and, well... something else. The grip was firm, enough to send a shiver right through her.

She felt the cold hand gently stroking her cheek, and then tracing her lips, slow and deliberate, teasing her in a way that made her stomach flip. Her lips parted on instinct, every nerve buzzing under the devil's touch. Meanwhile, Mizora's other hand stayed clamped around her hip, fingers almost digging into the bone, as if to make sure Nyssala knew exactly who was in control here.

And oh, she knew.

This was dangerous, and she knew it but damn if it didn't have her hooked. It was as if Nyssala was being pulled toward the edge of a cliff knowing the fall would be deadly but somehow... thrilling. It wasn’t just the smooth, silky tone in her voice or the way her eyes seemed to pierce right through Nyssala’s soul. It was the danger, the power that coiled around her like a snake, squeezing tight but not enough to suffocate — just enough to make her want more. And yet, every time she thought about pulling away, her body betrayed her, leaning in just a little more, craving the attention, the control, and the intoxicating thrill Mizora seemed to exude without even trying.

Nyssala’s mind drifted as her eyes roamed over Mizora's features, the moonlight that seeped through the small gaps where her wings met above her head was casting soft, silvery shadows on the devil’s skin, painting her in deep shades of blue. Her bardic instincts kicked in as a quiet, unspoken poem began to form in her mind.

"Midnight wrapped in azure silk, Silver threads weave through the dark, A devil’s touch, soft as guilt, Her gaze, a flame that leaves its mark."

Somehow, Mizora looked even more otherworldly under the night sky. The moon seemed to adore her, tracing her face and outlining her wings with a ghostly shimmer. The sight was... enchanting.

"A devil’s skin, kissed by the moon, A song of sin in shades of blue, I’d write her name upon the stars, And let the sky bleed crimson too."

Nyssala felt a flicker of heat crawl up her spine, not from fear but from fascination. The poetic lines tumbled in her head, and though they felt dangerous, just like Mizora herself, they were beautiful. She would have to remember to write them down later.

The drow blinked, realizing Mizora had been talking this whole time.

Damn it.

She had totally spaced out, too busy thinking about moonlight and wings and all that... Well, whatever the devil had said, it sounded so beautiful that inspired her to think about a poem, so it couldn't be that bad...

Nyssala nodded, throwing on a smile, trying to act like she’d been paying attention. “Yeah, that sounds great,” she said, with way too much enthusiasm, bobbing her head a little too eagerly. “Totally. Let’s... do that.”

She had no idea what she'd just agreed to.

[unhingedbutpretty]

@devouringmadness for Felicitas

Nyssala had never been great with faces, especially after coming to the surface. To her, a lot of surfacers looked the same. It didn’t help that hundreds — maybe thousands — of people passed through Sharess' Caress every year, making it even harder for her to keep track of anyone.

Names though... now that was a different story. Growing up, she had spent plenty of time memorizing the names of countless important members of Menzoberranzan's noble houses — their children, their grandchildren. She had to recite her own lineage perfectly, all the way back to the very first wretched soul that decided to name her daughter "Yvonnel". It was dull, mind-numbing work, and more than once, she’d considered throwing herself off Arach-Tinilith's cephalothorax just to escape it.

But it paid off, it seems. Now, Nyssala rarely forgets a name, and Felicitas was one she didn't expect to hear at... wherever the hell they were now. The middle of nowhere, that is. Nyssala was on her way to try her luck knocking on a massive, grass-covered gate she found when she overheard people talking at distance, and the name was the very first thing she could understand. A known name could mean trouble. What if the other drow recognized her? And worse, what if she decided that killing Nyssala would earn her some twisted favour with Matron Quenthel? (Assuming Quenthel was still the Matron, of course. Things always tended to change too fast down there...)

No, no, no, I'm just being paranoid.

After all, if the Matron wanted her head, she'd have taken it by now... Right? And it's not like she could be sure it's even the same "Felicitas." There have to be plenty of "Felicitas" on the surface, right? Though... now that she thought about it, she hadn’t met a single other "Felicitas" since she got here. The odds were definitely stacked against her.

She quickly ducked behind a giant rock, hoping to stay out of sight. She'd observe this Felicitas first, check the vibes, and then decide if she would approach her or not. But from the other side of the rock, a group — adventurers, by their gear — suddenly came barreling in her direction. They were a mess. Wounded, dirty, and clearly running for their lives. She held her breath, expecting the worst, but they rushed past her without a second glance, their voices rising as they shouted at the closed gate.

"OPEN THE BLOODY GATE!!"

The shouting at the gate kept going, with people on both sides yelling and throwing insults back and forth. Whoever those folks were, it was clear that trouble was brewing, and Nyssala had no intention of sticking around to find out what kind.

"Oh, shit." She barely had spun on her heels when a pack of goblins came into view, charging toward the gate on massive wargs, armed to the teeth, snarling like bloodthirsty beasts themselves. Arrows whistled through the air, one zipped past her so close it ruffled her hair, embedding itself with a sharp thunk into the ground behind her. By sheer luck, she hadn’t been skewered.

A battle. Of course, there was a battle coming, and Nyssala, the absolute last person who should be anywhere near sharp objects and angry beasts, was right in the middle of it. She glanced around, panic rising. Goblins charging, arrows flying — she barely knew which end of a sword to hold, let alone how to survive this mess.

She tried to bolt, slipping away from the chaos, but a goblin, quick and sneaky, intercepted her. The creature bared its crooked teeth, sneering, "A drow! The boss is going to like you!" They lunged forward, grabbing her by the clothes.

"Take your hands off me! Ah!" She gritted her teeth, fighting to free her tunic from the goblin's grip. She couldn’t believe she was losing. To a goblin! This was beyond humiliating — definitely one of the most embarrassing moments of her life. "ARGH! YOU LITTLE- Go back to the anus that birthed you!"

She didn’t expect much, but then — whoa. A weird, almost electric sensation surged through her, and for the first time, she felt her words hit like a physical blow. The goblin staggered back, clutching his head, clearly in pain. The goblin's grip suddenly loosened, sending Nyssala stumbling back until she landed unceremoniously in the dirt, sitting dazed and annoyed.

Nyssala blinked in surprise, momentarily marveling at the fact that her insult actually did something — bardic magic? Was that real? But she didn’t have time to process it. Standing up, she turned and sprinted toward Felicitas’ group without a second thought. Vibe check be damned, survival was the priority now!

[unhingedbutpretty]

Lady Lolth!

[unhingedbutpretty]

Nyssala's breath caught in her throat the second Mizora's claws dug into her hip. A quiet hiss escaped her before she could stop it, a mix of nerves and, well... something else. The grip was firm, enough to send a shiver right through her.

She felt the cold hand gently stroking her cheek, and then tracing her lips, slow and deliberate, teasing her in a way that made her stomach flip. Her lips parted on instinct, every nerve buzzing under the devil's touch. Meanwhile, Mizora's other hand stayed clamped around her hip, fingers almost digging into the bone, as if to make sure Nyssala knew exactly who was in control here.

And oh, she knew.

This was dangerous, and she knew it but damn if it didn't have her hooked. It was as if Nyssala was being pulled toward the edge of a cliff knowing the fall would be deadly but somehow... thrilling. It wasn’t just the smooth, silky tone in her voice or the way her eyes seemed to pierce right through Nyssala’s soul. It was the danger, the power that coiled around her like a snake, squeezing tight but not enough to suffocate — just enough to make her want more. And yet, every time she thought about pulling away, her body betrayed her, leaning in just a little more, craving the attention, the control, and the intoxicating thrill Mizora seemed to exude without even trying.

Nyssala’s mind drifted as her eyes roamed over Mizora's features, the moonlight that seeped through the small gaps where her wings met above her head was casting soft, silvery shadows on the devil’s skin, painting her in deep shades of blue. Her bardic instincts kicked in as a quiet, unspoken poem began to form in her mind.

"Midnight wrapped in azure silk, Silver threads weave through the dark, A devil’s touch, soft as guilt, Her gaze, a flame that leaves its mark."

Somehow, Mizora looked even more otherworldly under the night sky. The moon seemed to adore her, tracing her face and outlining her wings with a ghostly shimmer. The sight was... enchanting.

"A devil’s skin, kissed by the moon, A song of sin in shades of blue, I’d write her name upon the stars, And let the sky bleed crimson too."

Nyssala felt a flicker of heat crawl up her spine, not from fear but from fascination. The poetic lines tumbled in her head, and though they felt dangerous, just like Mizora herself, they were beautiful. She would have to remember to write them down later.

The drow blinked, realizing Mizora had been talking this whole time.

Damn it.

She had totally spaced out, too busy thinking about moonlight and wings and all that... Well, whatever the devil had said, it sounded so beautiful that inspired her to think about a poem, so it couldn't be that bad...

Nyssala nodded, throwing on a smile, trying to act like she’d been paying attention. “Yeah, that sounds great,” she said, with way too much enthusiasm, bobbing her head a little too eagerly. “Totally. Let’s... do that.”

She had no idea what she'd just agreed to.

Nyssala gasped as the cambion yanked her from her spot, effortlessly pulling her close. Moments ago, Mizora had been amused, but now? Now she snapped, and things were getting dangerous. Killed for mouthing off to a devil? She thought. Oh, man... What a dumb way to die. She clenched her eyes shut, already halfway through mentally drafting her apology. She'd beg for mercy, swear up and down it was just a joke, a stupid joke. She'd never ever ever do it again — pinky promise. But then… Mizora's cold hand slid down her back, sending shivers racing up Nyssala's spine. Her eyes fluttered open, and she realized where she was — practically smack between Mizora's breasts. Wait, wait, wait… what the hell was happening? Nyssala's brain short-circuited for a moment. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind doing backflips. She suddenly felt her eyes go impossibly wide as she tilted her chin up to meet Mizora's gaze. On one hand, she was absolutely terrified. On the other hand? Oddly aroused. Her body had a mind of its own, apparently. Oh, man… What an amazing way to die. Despite herself, she let out a shaky, nervous laugh. “Well, I’ve never really had the best luck with moms," she quipped, her voice a bit more breathy than she wanted. "But I’m not gonna lie, the way you're handling things right now…” She paused, her eyes glinting with mischief as she spread a bold smirk. “I’m kinda leaning towards the ‘much more’ option.”

It would have been a thing of ease to take offence with the nickname, Nyssala had given her. Most devils likely would have been offended and disgusted. A succubus might have salivated at being called an interplanar mummy, but unless the devil in question did not covet you as a toy for his private pleasures, they would have seen nothing but disrespect in those words.

Luckily for Nyssala, Mizora was not someone easily offended. At least not by something, which betrayed such obvious arousal and hunger. Even now with the poor drow pressed against her body and peeking up from between her perky, small breasts, the Cambion could feel her shiver, from fear, arousal and confusion. The same cold hand, which had trailed down Nyssala's spine, now found its way to her hip. Sharp claws tentatively scraped across her hip bone, letting the girl feel the oh, so gratifying sting of pain.

"That's quite alright", Mizora purred, while caressing the drow's cheek with her other hand, "You are in capable hands now." Her wings closed in around her and her latest target, making it so that wherever the drow looked, all she could see, was cool, soothing, corpse-blue flesh and membranes. The mischievous glint, followed by that bold smirk, caused Mizora to quirk an eyebrow, half expecting what the words would be, which soon after left the drow's mouth.

That same hand, which had previously caressed Nyssala's cheeks in a comforting gesture, now traced over her lips with tantalising fingers. The other hand still rested on her hip, however, now the claws clasped upon the protruding bone with a possessiveness to keep her latest catch in line. Mizora's eyes shimmered and shone like a cat's reflecting the light in the dark and her word was like poisoned honey, flowing freely into Nyssala's ears.

"Though I must wonder", Mizora whispered, "Just how far do you want us to push this 'much more'. I could give you pleasures far beyond the mortal realm, something, which makes you forget the constraints of flesh, blood and bone. I could make you feel as powerful as a pack of hellhounds, as fast as a Nightmare and as unchained as a tidal wave. That is if you can prove to me that you can take it. After all, experiencing something like the Nine Hells of Baator is not for everyone. And certainly not for someone, who has not offered me anything in return."

@unhingedbutpretty cont. from here.

[unhingedbutpretty]

Menzoberranzan drow house rankings through recent time.

From the Menzoberranzan City of Intrigue book for your OC and fanfiction writing reference

[unhingedbutpretty]

“say please.”

Nyssala smirked, her lips curling mischievously as she leaned in close to Tryck, her breath grazing his ear. "Please..." she whispered, her voice sultry and smooth like velvet, letting it linger for just a second before pulling back. She gave him a teasing smile, eyes gleaming with playful intent.

"Or... Would you prefer this instead?" She straightened up, now batting her lashes exaggeratedly, her expression softening into an innocent pout. Her voice took on a higher pitch as she widened her eyes, channeling all the sweetness she could muster. "Pleeeease?" she said again, dragging the word out as if she were the pillar of innocence, but with that ever-present glint of seductive mischief hiding behind her act.

[unhingedbutpretty]

“i want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”

Ah, the buzz of danger — everything about Jaez practically shouted "bad idea," but that just made Nyssala want to get even closer. Like a moth zooming straight toward the flame, fully aware it might get burned, but thinking, "Eh, worth it!" There was something about that troublemaker vibe that had her hooked, and honestly, she couldn’t help herself.

Alright, maybe calling him a "bad idea" was a bit much. Nyssala bit her lip, second-guessing herself. What’s the worst that could really happen? Sure, things could go sideways, but... it wasn’t like she hadn't survived worse.

"I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me."

Well, that wouldn’t be too hard. Nyssala’s smile grew, completely captivated without any need for magic. In that moment, the world outside felt distant, irrelevant. With a slight nod, she offered her hand to Jaez, ready to follow wherever he’d lead.

[unhingedbutpretty]

@mysticrosed

"Nononononono, wait!" Nyssala leaped in front of the towering half-orc, arms flailing like she could physically stop him from dismantling her makeshift stage. It was all she had — her lifeline, her means of scraping together some coins for the day. Her heart pounded in her chest as panic set in.

"Look, it was just a joke! Just a stupid joke!" she pleaded, her voice cracking slightly. "It's the only way to make them laugh, you know? I need this! I finally made some decent coin adventuring, but it’s never enough, and this... this is my shot!"

Her breath came out in sharp bursts as desperation took hold. She sidled closer, biting her lip before letting her voice drop to a softer, sultry tone. “I’m sorry, really. But… what if I made it up to you?"

She knew how this works. Surface man were only interested in two things: coin and sex. She just needed to know which one was the half-orc's case, and pay his price. "Look, I know how this works, ok? Just let me do my little show, I promise I’ll earn my coin and you'll have your share, fair and square.”

"Or... I can think of other forms of showing just how much I regret making fun of you..." Her fingers brushed against his arm, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Would you live up to your words and... split me in half? Hmmm?" Nyssala wraps both of her hands around one of his giant hands, intertwining their fingers as she winks at him, an amused laughter full of innuendo escaping her lips.

But then, she let out a tired, defeated sigh, all the charm draining from her voice as if someone had flipped a switch. The playful glint in her eyes faded, replaced by exhaustion. She was worn down, her earlier desperation now sinking into bitter resignation, as if she went through this too many times already.

"Just tell me your price, big boy," she muttered, her voice dry, stripped of the seductive sweetness she had been using moments ago. Her shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of the situation had finally settled in. "Let’s make this easier for both of us." The fight in her was slipping, replaced by the quiet surrender of someone who just wanted to get through the day.

@mysticrosed for Rozoroc

Nyssala hauled the last crate into place, stacking it with practiced ease to create a makeshift stage on the side of the bustling road. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the scene as she rearranged the crates to ensure stability. She dusted off her hands, surveyed her work with a satisfied nod, and took a deep breath. “Perfect,” she murmured, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Now, let’s see if this roadside theater can pull in a crowd!”

She stepped up onto the stage and began her performance, hoping that people would be more willing to pay for a good laugh than for a music act.

"I never knew doppelgangers were experts at crashing parties, but those bastards managed to wreck an entire carnival back there!" Nyssala glanced around at the audience. Some people chuckled nervously while others shifted uncomfortably in their places. She could see a few wide-eyed stares, their reactions a mix of shock and amusement. The inability of the surfacers to laugh over a tragedy always shocked her.

Very well, then. Time to change her approach. Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd. The audience was a mixed bag — mercenaries, traders, a few shady types whispering in a corner. And there, near her makeshift stage, was a half-orc with a hulking frame and a stoic expression that almost dared her to be funny.

Nyssala grinned, her mind already plotting. “You know, folks, I always thought the hardest part of life on the surface would be the sun. But then I met this guy!” She pointed right at the half-orc, who barely blinked. “You look like you’ve been gargling gravel and bench-pressing boulders since birth. Seriously, did you get lost on your way to the Coliseum?”

The crowd chuckled. Encouraged, she pressed on. “But don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’ve got a sensitive side. Maybe you write poetry when no one’s looking, huh? ‘Roses are red, violets are blue, I’ll smash your face, and eat your stew.’”

The crowd roared with laughter. Nyssala winked at the half-orc, enjoying the moment. “You’re a good sport. Let’s be real though, with those muscles, you’d make one hell of a bard — just play the lute and let the strings weep in fear!”

Nyssala stepped confidently onto her makeshift stage, sidling up to the half-orc and draping an arm around what she could get of his shoulders, though he still towered over her even from atop the crates. “Tell me, friend! What’s your name?”

[unhingedbutpretty]

everyone else: having a normal conversation drow: drow: so then i started stabbing-

[unhingedbutpretty]

this hit me like a truck

[unhingedbutpretty]

nsfw prompts that don’t sound like a bad porno

i’m always tired of seeing the cringiest sentence starters for smut so i’m back at it again kids. feel free to adjust sentences or specify who does the action. 

ACTIONS: 1. for one muse to give the other oral 2. to skinny dip with my muse 3. to shower with my muse 4. to take a hot bath with my muse 5. for sex in public 6. for sex in the car 7. to catch my muse naked 8. to undress my muse 9. for sparring to turn into sex 10. for an argument to turn into sex 11. for make up sex 12. for friends with benefits sex 13. to tie up my muse 14. to blindfold my muse 16. to make one muse watch the other masturbate 17. for a threesome (specify muses) 18. for one muse to wake the other by fingering them/giving a handjob 19. for one muse to deny the other orgasm 20. for angry sex  21. for break up sex 22. for sex after a near death experience  23. for after battle sex 24. for sex to get revenge on an ex 25. for one muse to give the other a lap dance or strip tease  26. to make my muse whimper 27. for one muse to take the other from behind 28. for sex against the wall 29. for sex on a table/counter/desk 30. for sex in a pool/hot tub 31. for one muse to choke the other 32. for rough sex  33. for our muses to try a new position 34. for our muses to try a new kink together 35. for one muse to use a toy on the other 36. for one muse to sit on the other’s face

WORDS:  “touch me.” “kiss me here.” “you have to be quiet if you want to cum.” “say my name.”  “oh fuck-” “i need you so bad.” “i’m so wet right now.”  “i want you to touch yourself for me.”  “let me hear you, baby.”  “come for me.” “i want to hear you cum.” “harder.” “i need to feel you.” “i want you.” “you’re so hot.” “can i come yet?” “please, baby—” “i’m so close.” “i told you to be quiet.” “i told you to stay still.” “are you gonna be good for me?” “i promise i’ll be good.” “i’m not done with you yet.” “i’ve been waiting all day…” “you’re all i want.” “just kiss me, i can’t take this anymore.” “just shut up and fuck me.”  “i’m gonna fuck you until you beg me to stop.”  “say please.” “i could’t stop thinking about you all day.” “your fingers feel so good.” “your mouth feels so good.” “i want your fingers inside me.” “i want it to hurt.” “more—” “i want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.” “make me forget.” “i just want to feel something.”  “make me.” “be quiet.”  “they’re gonna catch us—” “yes— right there.” “that feels so good.” “does that feel good?” 

[unhingedbutpretty]

Nyssala gasped as the cambion yanked her from her spot, effortlessly pulling her close. Moments ago, Mizora had been amused, but now? Now she snapped, and things were getting dangerous.

Killed for mouthing off to a devil? She thought. Oh, man... What a dumb way to die.

She clenched her eyes shut, already halfway through mentally drafting her apology. She'd beg for mercy, swear up and down it was just a joke, a stupid joke. She'd never ever ever do it again — pinky promise.

But then…

Mizora's cold hand slid down her back, sending shivers racing up Nyssala's spine. Her eyes fluttered open, and she realized where she was — practically smack between Mizora's breasts.

Wait, wait, wait… what the hell was happening?

Nyssala's brain short-circuited for a moment. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind doing backflips. She suddenly felt her eyes go impossibly wide as she tilted her chin up to meet Mizora's gaze. On one hand, she was absolutely terrified. On the other hand? Oddly aroused. Her body had a mind of its own, apparently.

Oh, man… What an amazing way to die.

Despite herself, she let out a shaky, nervous laugh. “Well, I’ve never really had the best luck with moms," she quipped, her voice a bit more breathy than she wanted. "But I’m not gonna lie, the way you're handling things right now…”

She paused, her eyes glinting with mischief as she spread a bold smirk.

“I’m kinda leaning towards the ‘much more’ option.”

Pet Name / Nickname for Mizora From Nyssala @unhingedbutpretty Interplanar mommy :D

Nicknames/Pet Names||Accepting.

A hearty, rumbling laughter filled Mizora's belly. The Cambion buckled over in front of the drow, her wings opening just a touch and her tail swaying from side to side. Oh, that was such a droll, little thing! Drow culture had an obsession with two things: Self-preservation and the worship of the female. So, of course, Nyssala would pick a nickname based on something female.

Gasping for breath, the Cambion rose and properly looked at Nyssala. Mizora wiped away a tear from her eye, even as her stomach quivered from some left-over giggles. Her wing opened and angled itself sideways. Taking hold of the drow with the help of her claws, she urged her so close that the poor thing practically bodyslammed against her, forced to peer up at her from between her breast, stomach touching stomach.

Languid arms loosely wrapped around Nyssala's shoulders and corpse-blue, chilly hands caressed her spine. The wing, previously nicking into her shoulder with the thorn on its top, folded neatly behind her back. Mizora's voice somehow became a comforting whisper and a seductive hum, all at once, an alluring lullaby, which lowered your guard and made you want to snuggle even closer to her.

"Begs the question: Nyssala, what kind of Mummy are you looking for? Because I could easily be a mother figure if that is what you need." Her head inched closer, hot breath whispering against the drow's ear as Mizora practically purred. "Or I could be much more if that is what you desire."

[unhingedbutpretty]

Where Do You Need to be Kissed?

cheek.

you are made of light. your cheeks hurt from grinning, sun-kissed and lifting in a bubbling laugh. you should be kissed there. and often. a reminder that you are a joy to be around, and that your smiling face is a gift.

Tagged by @chaoticbard

Tagging @darkmothersworn, @mysticrosed, @thetavolution, @arach-tinilith, @fiendishfinesse and whoever else sees this and wants to do it!

[unhingedbutpretty]

General Sentences, Vol. 20

(Assorted original sentences. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Take me to your leader."

"Am I under arrest?"

"If you think about it, this is quite the honour!"

"Since when did you develop emotional intelligence?"

"I've dreamt about this moment for so many years..."

"Do me one last favour, for old time's sake?"

"Nobody is untouchable."

"You can't protect me from everything."

"This reminds me of a horror movie I saw..."

"Are you in love with him?"

"Do you want a tattoo?"

"Is that a grey hair?"

"I suppose this could have gone a lot worse."

"It's probably better if you don't ask what I'm doing."

"Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Does anybody care what I think?"

"There really aren't any normal days in this job, are there?"

"Do you really think you can win?"

"Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor?"

"I heard you were looking for me?"

"There are some things that man should not know."

"What am I supposed to call you?"

"Why don't I tell you a story?"

"You know me; I'm always careful!"

"This was the best day of my life!"

"Do me one last favour, for old time's sake?"

"Nothing ever changes with you, does it?"

"Apology not accepted."

"For a moment there, I thought you were an angel."

"Not everything is as it seems."

"What's the harm in letting me try?"

"Are you willing to make a bargain?"

"What? Have I got something in my teeth?"

"I'm sorry, does that hurt?"

"Do you want to talk about it, or should we just pretend like we already did?"

"I really don't want to have this conversation right now."

"I think you've had enough to drink."

"Do you have nothing better to do?"

"How come you always make fun of me?"

[unhingedbutpretty]

(     *     MISC PROMPTS   !    

feel free to change pronouns / titles as needed !

❛  i wouldn’t want to corrupt you.  ❜

❛  you think that i’m gonna be a burden to you, is that it?  ❜

❛  you’ve got people dying all around you every day!  ❜

❛  we can go slower if that’s what you want.  ❜

❛  we’re gonna burn up if we don’t get out of here!  ❜

❛  i think that we’ve had enough suspense to last a lifetime.  ❜

❛  i’m not gonna blame anyone for what happened anymore.  ❜

❛  have a terrible rest of your life.  ❜

❛  you know what you’re doing. you know it’s wrong.  ❜

❛  everybody’s better off without me, like you said.  ❜

❛  it’s not your fault, so stop hating yourself.  ❜

❛  it was for the greater good.  ❜

❛  everyone around us… dies.  ❜

❛  all you do is hurt me.  ❜

❛  you’ve never been on the right side of anything.  ❜

❛  then set me up. i’ll screw anyone right now.  ❜

❛  i am pathetic. i know.  ❜

❛  you’re justified in feeling betrayed.  ❜

❛  i’m not like you. i can’t just… move on.   ❜

❛  it was despicable what i did to you.  ❜

❛  i’m in the mood to yell.  ❜

❛  all i want is to end up like you.  ❜

❛  if anyone’s right for this, it’s you.  ❜

❛  if you say a word to anyone, i will personally slit your throat.  ❜

❛  you don’t lie to people you love!  ❜

❛  this was the wrong way because — because it wasn’t the right way.  ❜

❛  fear is the loneliest feeling.  ❜

❛  you can be in a throng of people, but if you’re afraid, you’re on your own.  ❜

❛  sometimes there’s no warning. nothing at all.  ❜

❛  vengeance burns. it burns your heart. it makes the pain worse.  ❜

❛  don’t let that happen to you.  ❜

[unhingedbutpretty]

thank you for caring about me. from rozoroc!

@mysticrosed

Nyssala just finished conjuring the last healing spell, and her fingers were now moving deftly as she tied off the bandage around Rozoroc's torso, her touch light but sure. Despite the severity of his wounds, he hardly flinched under her care, and that just made her admire him more. When his deep voice broke the silence with a quiet, “Thank you for caring about me,” something inside her stirred.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and for a brief moment, she was taken aback by the softness she found there. For all his imposing strength, there was a gentleness that tugged at her heart in ways she hadn’t expected. His warmth was so inviting, and the way he carried himself — with the kind of grace and respect that felt rare, even princely — made her pulse quicken.

She let her gaze trail over him, lingering on his broad shoulders, the ripple of his muscles beneath the skin, the raw power he exuded so effortlessly. He was huge, even for a half-orc. A thought flitted through her mind, an illicit curiosity about the size of his...

No, no, not now.

She pushed the thought aside, forcing herself to stay composed, even as a faint flush crept into her cheeks.

Instead, she offered him a soft smile, her voice low but warm. “You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” It wasn’t a question so much as a knowing statement. Rozoroc had this way of making her feel safe, cherished even, and she found herself drawn to this quiet strength of his.

[unhingedbutpretty]

"Sorry I called you a fucking idiot, I was trying to flirt." from karma!

@mysticrosed

Nyssala's pout was practically theatrical, lips pursed and eyes narrowing as she leaned against Karma with exaggerated offense. "I must say, you're terrible at flirting." she said, voice dripping with mock hurt.

She let out a dramatic sigh, pressing her shoulder into Karma’s side, the touch lingering a bit longer than necessary, suggestively leaning closer. "Well, somehow, it did work... but don’t make it a habit," she teased, her voice softening as she smirked. “Here, I'll show you how it's done.”

Nyssala’s eyes softened as she looked at Karma, her usual teasing edge slipping away, replaced with something deeper, more genuine. She reached out, lightly tracing her fingers along the paladin's armor, her touch delicate but intentional.

“You’re more than just a sword and shield to me.” she began, her voice a low murmur, "You’ve got this strength... not just in battle, but here.” Nyssala placed her hand gently over Karma's chest. “It’s not every day you meet someone who’s fierce and brave, but still kind in your own way. You didn’t have to stick around, you didn’t have to care. But you did.”

She tilted her head, a small, sincere smile playing on her lips. "Also... For someone so used to being in the thick of battle, you’re unfairly beautiful. It’s kind of distracting, actually,” she teased, though her voice was laced with sincerity. Her hand moved to tuck a loose strand of Karma’s hair behind her ear. “The way the moonlight catches your skin... it’s like the gods themselves crafted you with care,” Nyssala whispered, her fingers grazing down to Karma’s cheek. “Your eyes, those lips... you could stop armies just by showing up.” She grinned, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Makes me wonder how you’re not the one starting wars, with a face like that.”

Nyssala leaned in, standing on her tiptoes to whisper in Karma's ear. “You’re a warrior, yes, but you carry this effortless beauty with you — like you don’t even know how captivating you are.” She leaned back, smirking. “It’s infuriating, really. How’s anyone supposed to focus when you look like that?” Her hand lingered a moment longer before she pulled away. “Honestly, I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Nyssala tilted her head, eyes glinting mischievously as she added, giggling: “But of course, if insults are your thing, I guess I can play along... It wouldn't be the weirdest kink I saw out there.”