#Twilight Refrain

[mugenfinder]

Uploaded TWilight refrAIN to Internet Archive, it's a scrolling shooter with some unique mechanics and a notable focus on dialogue.

[crabussy]

challenged myself to make simpler redesigns that match the show constraints because I often create very complex designs and I wanted to see if I could make something I liked without going too over the top!! pretty happy with these [:

if you have any questions about my design choices ask away!!

part 2 with ten gazillion background characters including sunburst, luna, and twilight's canterlot friends!

[kakikudoku]

🕸️𖤐༘⋆/ᐠ - ˕ -マ༘⋆𖤐🕸️

[lagaans]

amc is allergic to making a good witch show. you'll never be syfy's the magicians

[hxney-lemcn]

Affection-Starved — The Chain x gn! reader

summary: poor reader isn't used to the casual affection the group offers, but their favorite Link finds himself indulging in giving them some extra love.

a/n: Wind's is obvi platonic, some of these got more out of hands than others...oops. Not 100% romantic but like...lowkey is who am I trying to fool LMAO

wc: 3.1k

Master List

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Legend

As much as Legend liked to pretend he didn’t care, he was probably the one who knew the most about each member of the chain. He found himself watching the others, taking in each member’s small quirks. The way Twilight’s nose would twitch at a smell no one else could perceive, how Hyrule seemed entranced with shiny objects, how you always seem entranced with any form of affection. You were pretty good at hiding it, if not for the way your shoulders would tense or the way your lips twitched to keep your natural expression as Twilight ruffled your hair or Wars bumped your shoulders. 

It honestly ate at Legend. You clearly liked the affection, your smile becoming a bit warmer and your eyes hopeful. For someone who was trying to push others away (you especially since you were particularly dangerous), he was doing a terrible job. Once again, Legend found himself watching the others, most chatting happily or playing a game, Time was out patrolling the parameter, and you…you looked…sad. Did the others really not notice? Your eyes looked so crestfallen, even if your usual neutral expression rested on your face. You had isolated yourself from the others, that itch eating away at Legend. You had grown on him, a dangerous prospect to the hero of legend, but he’d be damned if he just let you mope alone. 

So, putting his sewing kit away, Legend found himself sitting beside you. His stiffness melted as seconds passed without a word, the fire crackling a few meters away. With a sigh, he finally gained the confidence to wrap an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He could feel your muscles tense under him, the way you hesitated in his hold. ‘Is this okay?’ he whispered so only you could hear, and the small nod you gave made him relax. Slowly you relaxed with him, putting more of your weight into his side. Legend could feel the stare of the others burn into you both, but he ignored them in favor of feeling your warmth surrounding him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Twilight

Twi was naturally more affectionate than he realized. Growing up and taking care of the village children, he didn’t notice when he ruffled someone's hair or pulled them into a side hug. That was until he found your startled expression, which you had quickly tried to fix. He tried to apologize, but you cut him off stating that you just weren’t used to…well affection in general. Poor boy's heart split in two at that. Now he had a new mission to accomplish. Getting you used to affection. Hugs, patting your back, holding your wrist, hip checking you…okay so some forms were more teasing than others, and he may have found himself smug everytime he managed to make you crack your cool facade, but he also enjoyed the soft smiles that inevitably spread across your lips.

Twi would be lying if he said he didn’t shower you with more affection than the others. He loved your reactions, the way you shied away, even better when you slowly started embracing it. The first time you had initiated affection had him smiling widely and blushing profusely. It wasn’t much. An uncertain, shy expression rested on your features, you were clearly nervous. Twi found himself anticipating what could possibly make you feel this way, his imagination getting the best of him. Your hand raised up as you patted his mousy hair gently. He felt his cheeks warm at how cute you were, a giant smile overtaking him. He had refrained from teasing you too much, not wanting to scare you off.

This man is so, so smug no matter what, feeling proud that you felt comfortable enough with him. It’s strange how you could make something he didn’t think twice about become something all he could think about. He didn’t mind though, he liked the way you managed to make his heart flutter with every little touch.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Sky

He didn’t really notice at first. In fact, he was dead asleep the first time he pulled you into his impromptu cuddle pile. When he awoke, your form snug into his side, he didn’t think much of it. Sure it was nice, you were warm and he felt sleep call for him once more, but it was normal to find himself wrapped around the other heroes, it was bound to happen with you. With a sleep smile, he found himself nuzzling back into your hair…until he felt how fast your heart was beating…how were you not dead? Sky unwillingly pulled away, you were in fact awake and it looked like you were in pain. Quickly, Sky scrambled back, sleepiness long forgotten in his worry of your comfort. 

You apologized, much to his confusion, shyly mumbling about how you didn’t mind, you just weren’t used to such affections. Shaking his head, he sent you a beaming smile, mentioning that if he or anyone else ever made you uncomfortable to let them know. Yet that didn’t seem to be the problem at all. In fact it seemed like you yearned for the intimate acts, always placing yourself beside Sky as he slowly nodded off. You had become his pillow more likely than not, and it almost seemed like you were anticipating it. The thought made his stomach fill with butterflies and a blush coat his cheeks. 

It was when your hand had found its way into his hair one night that he knew he was a goner. Your touches were gentle and hesitant, fingers softly carding through his hair making both his eyes droop and heart accelerate. His arms found purchase around your torso, head nuzzling into your shoulder. It had become very clear to everyone just who his favorite cuddling buddy was, and he’s not sure if he’d cuddle with anyone else ever again.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Hyrule

The boy wasn’t as confident as the others, finding himself in awe of their everything. That seemed to be something the two of you could relate to. The other heroes made everything look easy, from swinging a sword showing their care. Hyrule always wanted to join in when Warriors would hug your shoulders when you managed to improve your fighting technique, or when Wind would drag you around by your hand so effortlessly. Little did you know that Hyrule admired you as well, watching in awe as you managed to keep up with seasoned fighters despite being a civilian yourself. 

It wasn’t until you found yourself hurt that he finally managed to initiate any contact between you both. It was a small scrape, barely there on your palm and a small frown on your lips. Hyrule didn’t hesitate to heal the wound, finger tips glowing as your skin mended back together. Your eyes widened, cheeks warming at the feeling of his fingers barely touching your palm. You must’ve gotten too used to being with the others as your fingers twitched, intertwining your fingers. Hyrule felt his face burn as you whispered a small thanks, your smile was so warm and you were looking at him so softly…

You were internally going crazy. You had never initiated something like this before, it felt so intimate, but the way Rulie couldn’t meet your eyes but continued to hold your hand confirmed your hypothesis. He was just like you all those months ago when you first joined the rag tag group, and they had helped bring you out of your shell, so you would help Rulie break out of his. It was still hard for you to reach out first, but you made yourself try, starting out small until Hyrule found himself reaching for you first, meeting each other halfway. You never thought you’d be the one to help break someone out of their shell, but you didn’t mind if it meant you had a cute traveller glued to your side. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Time

Time himself was more closed off, with arms crossed and always slightly outside of the group. It was clear to anyone with eyes that even if he was an integral part of the group, he did not see himself fully a part of it. Time noticed that you seemed to feel the same way, watching longingly as the others rough-housed like you wanted to join, or how your face lit up when they’d mess up your hair (no matter how much you grumbled and pouted). Time found himself endeared by you, it was clear you were not used to such affections, but made every effort to act like it didn’t affect you as much as it did. He couldn’t help the mischievous part of him that would reach out for your hand or brush your hair away from your face, soaking up your flustered reactions. 

Time was much more subtle with his affections towards you than the others, which only seemed to make his actions all the more special. He wouldn’t admit that the way your stunning eyes searched for him made him feel more smug, or the way you’d walk by his side during your treks warmed him. You were just the sweetest thing, and he found himself having a sweet tooth more often than not. Oh, and when you had jumped one night, the sound of a twig breaking in the forest startled you, causing you to cling to his arm…he was basically putty. Your eyes frantically searched for any sign of a monster as you pushed further into his side. Time decided not to tease you too much, as your world didn’t have monsters like theirs did, and he took his arm out of your hold only to wrap it around your waist. 

You tensed in his hold, this was the most affection Time had ever shown you, but when his hand found your hair, gently soothing you that it was mostly likely some sort of animal, you ended up melting in his hold. You could feel the others watching, snickers sounded just over the crackling of the fire, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care at the moment, lost in the comfort that was known as Time.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Four

Another one that isn’t super affectionate, more likely to smack someone’s head than hug them, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. Four noticed that you seemed uncomfortable with touch. Maybe uncomfortable wasn’t the best word, more like tense. He also didn’t miss the way you would lean into it, trying to act nonchalant. It made him smile, you were sweet if not a bit awkward. When he found himself holding your hand while leading you through a dark cave, he couldn’t help the bright red blush that coated his cheeks, grateful that he was in front of you so you couldn’t see. Four may not be as affectionate as the others, but he didn’t react like this either. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about it. 

And when you started to slowly interact with him like the others, patting his shoulder, tugging on his sleeve or hell, even just sitting closer to him than normal, he felt like his heart was going to give out on him. Why were you so cute? Always so hesitant like you were afraid of making him upset, eyes watching him expectantly like you wanted him to hold you as well. Was that what you wanted? Goddesses the thought made his blood boil with how flustered he was. Oh and it was even worse when he woke up to the sound of chuckling snorts, opening his eyes and being met with your chest. He nearly screamed, jumping out of your hold and effectively waking you up. Damn Sky, who had his arm wrapped around the both of you before Four made his escape. 

After that you had stopped, taking his reaction as how uncomfortable you had been making him feel, which was not true whatsoever. And so, he found he had to rectify his mistake, trying his hardest to hold your hand without it becoming a death grip or burying his face in your neck every time you hugged. Yet it was worth it with the way your eyes lit up with every touch.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wind

Wind, as much as he’d like to boast, did not have such a keen eye when it came to someone’s emotions. Not that he was oblivious, but with childlike glee, he found himself more entranced with the thrill of a fight or adventure more than anything. And, as children are known for, he did not have a sense of boundaries whatsoever. Never hesitating to grab your hand and drag you towards danger, or jumping on your back to get your attention. Of course, if you got hurt because of something he did he’d feel guilty, latching onto you until you managed to quell his fears. 

He huffed and puffed when the others told him to dial it back around you. Why would he do that? You deserved to be bothered as much as the rest of them! From poking your cheek when he’s bored to cackling when you did something embarrassing, he refused to treat you any differently than the others. The thought was just absurd! You had even shaken your head with a fond smile, muttering that you didn’t mind all that much, leaving the young hero to puff his chest and stick his tongue out at the others. ‘That’s right, losers, you heard them, I’m their favorite!’ Wind cheered. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ One of them murmured, but left it at that. 

The best moments were when he’d tuck into your lap, listening to you ramble about your own world and how different it was from theirs. It made him feel so warm and safe, you made him feel protected, even if you sucked at fighting. You were like an older sibling he never had, something he didn’t even know he wanted until you pulled him close to you protectively once as some rude adult tried swatting at him. He had never seen you so angry, nor heard you say such angry words towards anyone before. He was a giggly mess by the end, telling the others with an exaggerated story about the events that transpired earlier, leaning into your side with a hug. 

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Warriors

As much as the flirt liked to make everyone believe he was knowledgeable with love in any form it came in…he very much was not. In fact, it was kind of the opposite. Warriors found your shy reactions to be like those who only cared about his pretty face. He knew you weren’t like that, but something in his gut didn’t feel right, and so he found himself distancing himself from you physically…until he saw you have the same reaction to almost every single one of them. Your eyes darting away when Twi’s hand brushed against yours, how your shoulders tensed when Time patted them, or how you stood stock still when Wind hugged you. It wasn’t because you saw them all romantically…so why were you so shy when it came to even the smallest touch?

Wars got his answer one day while you both were in a small town. You had been walking down a semi busy street when someone brushes past you, causing you to squeeze as close to Warriors side, an uncomfortable look on your face. Due to his confused expression, you explained how you don’t like being touched by people you don’t know, mainly because you’re not used to being touched period. It was then when everything clicked in his head, and guilt for his first assumption slowly consumed him. Biting his lip, Wars threw an arm around your shoulder, keeping you close to his side until your shopping was done. 

From then on Warriors found himself more affectionate around you. Everyone noticed the change, you included, but you refused to bring it up, not wanting him to stop. Not only had his actions become warmer towards you, but he found himself complimenting you more as well. Even he wasn’t fully sure where this was coming from. Relief that you weren’t another person swooning over his good looks, trying to make up for the guilt that had filled his gut, or perhaps maybe…just maybe he found himself enjoying the way you reciprocated his touches, something you didn’t do for many others, and the thought of being special to you made his heart flip.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Wild

With Wild’s attention being dragged from something or another, whether it be a crazy idea to what may test the best in a dish, he’s too unfocused to even realize you tense posture when he places a hand on your arm as he slides past or how you refuse to meet his eyes when he feeds you a small spoon of the food to taste test. That’s not to say he doesn’t notice at all, just that it takes him so long that you’re already comfortable with his unconscious touches. He has to bite his lip from grinning too much when you nuzzle into his touch unknowingly, or to stop himself from squeezing the daylights out of you when you hug him so firmly. 

Don’t get him started with the way you fret over him. Wild’s always getting himself in danger even when he’s not trying, and you’re always the first one to run over and check to make sure he’s okay. The way your hands hesitate for a split second before gently grabbing whatever you deem was most possible to be injured, how your touch is so gentle when you inspect his skin, or how your eyes melt from concern to fond frustration as you lightly scold him for scaring you. The way you care is so sweet, so scared, like you’re afraid he’ll push you away if you get too close, but Wild would never do such a thing. In fact, he finds himself meeting you halfway, grasping your hand firmly as to quell any insecurity or fear from your mind. 

The one time you not only find yourself hurt, but because of Wild’s reckless actions guilt consumes him entirely. He had not only put your safety at risk, but you had gotten seriously hurt, something Wild vowed to protect you from. He tried pulling away, feeling it would be better if you weren’t so close, but you had stopped him in his tracks when you held onto his wrist tightly, eyes silently pleading for him to stay. It was the first time he had ever seen you touch someone without even an ounce of worry, clearly desperate for some comfort, and Wild was at your side in an instant. How could he ever take that comfort away from you?

[pinkberrytea]

Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion.

Memento mori—Remember you must die. Enveloped in memories of her death, the Vampire Ascendant watches his darling consort as she slumbers, lost in dreams of blood and mist. Life is short, and shortly it will end; death comes quickly and respects no one. To death we are hastening, let us refrain from sinning.

An exploration of Astarion’s character and his relationship with his Dark Consort following the ascension, from a softer perspective.

Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav (F!Reader)

w/c: 6.2k words . ao3 . spotify playlist . 18+ only . nsfw . dividers

a/n: thank you for reading! this is my first time dabbling in creative writing, and of course my first attempt at smut fiction, but still, i hope it is at least somewhat enjoyable. i would like to dedicate this work to the lovely @locallegume, who was a huge source of inspiration, and also to hismostbelovedspawn over on reddit, for being always so incredibly kind and supportive. i love you guys!

( part 2 here ) ( part 3 here )

tags: blood drinking; cunnilingus; body worship; light dom/sub; vaginal fingering; mildly dubious consent; creampie; fluff & angst; emotional sex; dry humping; possessive behavior; somnophilia; orgasm edging; piv sex

The beginning of the morning twilight is Astarion’s favorite time of the day, for it feels at once ephemeral and infinite. The wistful silence, broken only by the still timid chirping of the waking birds; the royal blue-colored sky, tinged with specks of the purples and violets of the dawn; the chilly morning breeze, gently rustling the flowers in the garden, pushing the still forming dewdrops off their petals and onto the ground; you, slumbering beside him, pale skin reflecting the dim light of the fading moon, rosy lips slightly parted. Sleeping peacefully like this, you look like a life-sized porcelain doll, he thinks—your unmoving chest betrays your otherwise healthy likeness, as does the unnaturally blanched color of your skin. Your nightgown hangs lazily off your shoulder, exposing one of your breasts, and your undergarments lay discarded on the floor, on the exact same spot where he had tossed them earlier that night. He adores this version of you—so vulnerable, so defenseless, laid open for him, and him only.

Astarion finds it curious, how you seem to completely lose yourself in your dreams, yet he is also greatly perturbed by the notion that there is a part of you that he is still unable to access, to dominate. It feels unnatural, not to be able to control this elusive slice of your essence, but having ever only tranced, it also mystifies him that you’d voluntarily give up your consciousness each night. You were after all ever the trusting fool—from the moment you met, he had lied to you, manipulated you countless times, and each time you fell for it, standing by his side even when the world screamed at you not to. And even now, you give yourself to him, unquestioningly, unconditionally. In all the long years of his existence, there had been none like you, and there never will be again. None as trusting, none as kind, and he both hates and loves you for it. The very notion of you extending your kindness to anyone other than him is infuriating, and makes him want to take it for himself, put it in a glass dome and hide it away in a place where only he can bask in its warmth. He thinks he is owed that, at least; yours was the only hand that ever reached out to him, so he is justified in not wanting to share.

You shift slightly in your sleep, and a lock of your hair that had been trapped underneath one of your arms falls onto your chest. After eyeing it for a moment, Astarion reaches out for the tresses and grasps them between his fingers. Bringing them close to his nose, he takes in your scent, that is now also his. It smells comforting, familiar—it smells like home. The corner of his lips curl into an almost imperceptible smile, and he closes his eyes, letting out a contented sigh. The hushed shroud of the early hours acts as a cloak, under which he is granted a brief respite, a rare chance to let himself be gentle, be kind. Just as you become entirely vulnerable before him in your slumber, he too exposes the soft underbelly of his feelings for you; that chaotic, intoxicating brew, a messy blend of passion, guilt, hurt, longing, and love, endless and unrelenting love.

He brings his elegant fingers close to your face, and ever so gently glides their soft pads across the cold, velvety smooth skin of your cheek. Your long lashes flutter slightly, tickling the sensitive area under your eyes as he lowers the digits to brush the plump of your lips. He admires you for a short moment, taking in your image—his pretty consort, so beautiful, so frail, so foolishly devoted to him. Oh how lucky he is, to have you who would do anything for him by his side; his most precious treasure, the reason why his long dead heart beats inside his chest once more. He grasps your chin, delicately tilting your head upward to face him, and tenderly presses his lips to yours. His other hand moves to your chest, fingers softly caressing the pebbled peak of your exposed breast, his touch so faint that his skin barely comes into contact with yours. As much as Astarion enjoys asserting his dominance over you, making you kneel before him, seeing the dejected yet submissive expression on your pretty face whenever he decides to make a show of his power, it is these moments he values the most. In your intimacy, he may treat you gently, tenderly, and in your state of unconsciousness, by morning his loving touches will be but a hazy memory, securing your place below, but close beside him, from where you shall never leave for as long as he draws breath—which he can now only do thanks to you.

His fingers on your nipple leave it alone for a moment to close around your breast, giving it a soft, gentle squeeze. Moving quietly so as not to wake you, he slides his right leg under yours and presses it against the back of your knee, creating a space between your thighs as he pushes them apart, where he then nests himself, climbing on top of you.

“Astarion…” when you softly whisper his name, his half-smile widens into a grin; how reassuring it is, to know you belong to him even in your dreams. He lowers his head to plant a kiss on the delicate skin of the curve of your neck, and his lips brush against the two small indentations disrupting the otherwise pristine smoothness of your flesh. Instinctively, he brings his hand to the back of your right shoulder, his long fingers blindly searching for the matching set of bite marks. The last of the three pairs adorns your left wrist, for which reason he will ever so often take your hand in his, only to lovingly kiss it and turn it around so he can admire the evidence of his proudest feat—having sired you.

“Oh my love, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Astarion coos, holding your head gently against his bare chest, fingers tangled in your hair as you writhe and squirm in his arms, empty and glassy eyes lost in a hollow stare, seeing nothing but darkness, endless darkness. The expression on your face is at once delirious and vacant—mouth agape and fists clenched, pupils blown wide, eyelashes wet with tears and a thin string of drool coming out from the corner of your lip and trickling down your chin. At least for tonight, you are lost to him, and as he winces at the still foreign sensation of the loud, vigorous throbbing in his head, your own fading heartbeat softens, dying down into nothingness. And right as it is about to fall perpetually silent, he lets his fangs pierce his own tongue, drawing droplets of now living blood; bringing your face close to his, he presses his thumb to your lower lip, and covers your mouth with his.

He loses himself in the memory for a moment, as he so often does. Your peaceful, serene expression stands in stark contrast to the one that had been etched on your face on that fateful night. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet still he remembers the pain, the agony, the relentless fear building up in his stomach as your body contorted and tears glistened in your vacant eyes. Never had Astarion been more afraid of anything than he’d been of losing you, and by his hand no less. Killing you was the sinful culmination of his undying love, and breathing new life into you, a dowry bestowed upon you out of unconditional devotion. You only ever questioned him about what had happened on the evening of your turning once, but it mattered not how many times you asked, for he would never fully disclose the raw truth—how he had cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet nothings in your ears, kissing away your tears; how he had picked you up as you lost consciousness and carried you to your bed, where he would then tuck you in so very tenderly, so very gently, softly patting your hair and holding your hand, sharing his warmth with you as you lost your own; how he would patiently wait by your side, watching as the color slowly drained from your face, his stomach sinking at the thought of you never waking again—only for you to then slowly open your eyes, their hue now a rich crimson, much like his own. No, he would never again allow himself to be so weak, for he was supposed to be your warden, your liege. This pathetic side of him was to be ever hidden from you, only rearing its ugly head during the brief, sleepy moments preceding the crack of dawn.

With his lips still pressed against your skin, Astarion starts peppering kisses down your neck, on the hollows of your collarbone and across your sternum, his hand on your breast fondling it gently, the other still tracing the bite marks on your shoulder. His still clothed hips start lazily, almost imperceptibly rocking back and forth, lightly grinding against your naked thighs; thinking back to the night when he made you his almost inevitably causes blood to rush to his groin, and his body starts unconsciously seeking the sweet relief of the friction between his hardening erection and your supple skin. He moves his hand on your breast to grasp your nipple between his fingers, lightly squeezing it. You involuntarily buck your hips in response, which amuses him greatly as he continues playing with the tender nub. A soft moan escapes your lips, encouraging and emboldening his attentions as they drift away from your clavicle towards your chest. He plants gentle kisses on the plump of your bosom, using his teeth to pull at your nightgown and drag it down, exposing your clothed breast to the chilly morning air. You shiver, and he smiles against your skin, pressing his lips to the valleys of your ribs, the softness of your lower belly, and finally to your bare crotch. With his face so close to your swollen sex, the sweet scent of your essence now intoxicates his senses. He stands back for a moment to admire how it glistens in the faint glow of the moonlight, so deliciously inviting, as your juices start building up and collecting in-between your folds.

Feeling his breath caressing the sensitive skin of your core, you finally start to slowly regain consciousness. Once his arousals were returned to him, Astarion would make a habit of waking up during the night at various times to bury his cock in you, so it takes you but a moment to gather your bearings. Either out of mischievousness or curiosity, you play coy at first, pretending to be asleep still. His soft lips briefly come into contact with your engorged bud, sending shock waves through your body, and you are barely able to keep yourself from letting out a yelp, although you can’t prevent your skin from becoming covered with goosebumps. When his tongue pokes out of his mouth to give it a tentative lick, you know you won’t be able to keep up the charade for much longer. He feels your body tense up, and slightly raises his head to look at you from his position between your legs with half-lidded, lascivious eyes, dilated pupils partially covering the ruby hue of his irises. You’re unsure if he has already caught on to your little ruse, so you try staying as still as possible, which proves difficult with his face so close to your cunt.

After what seems like an eternity he decides to continue, lapping at your clit again and then sliding his tongue downwards, burying it between your folds. He presses it against the outer edge of your entrance, squeezing slick out of you, and as he savors your essence, he can’t help but think that while its sweet tanginess does not compare to the coppery, velvety richness of the crimson in your veins—nothing ever will, for his is the blood that courses through them—it may well be the second best thing he has ever tasted. Gliding his tongue upwards once more, he uses it to gently massage the raw bundle of nerves crowning your mound, leaving a trail of saliva mixed with your fluids between it and your twitching cunt, which then dribbles down onto your thighs. Placing a hand on each side of your hips, he pulls you closer to him, and the shift causes his fangs to graze the sensitive skin of your folds, in response to which your eyes water and you clutch the silk sheets under you both. Taking no notice of your desperate reaction, he continues swirling his tongue up and down your wetness, gently sucking on the tender skin, eagerly eating you up as if you were a full-course meal served especially for him, just begging to be ravished.

You feel heat pooling in your lower abdomen, and at this rate it won’t be long before you are brought to the edge. Momentarily forgetting the fact that you are supposed to be pretending to be asleep as you lose yourself in the crescendo of your release, you arch your back, leaning on your elbows to support your weight, and as soon as you do, he mercilessly pulls away from you, leaving your dripping core empty and aching. Eyes closed still, you let out a soft mewl in protest, which you regret as soon it leaves your lips, for once Astarion notices your desperation, you are done for.

Still unsure if he has already perceived your awakened state or if he believes your body to be involuntarily reacting to his touch, you dare not produce any further sounds. Having cruelly left your throbbing arousal unattended, his tongue now glides its way up your stomach, leaving a glistening wet mess in its wake. Upon reaching your chest, his lips latch onto your left breast, your perked nub fitting perfectly inside his mouth. He sucks on it ever so tenderly, teasing it with a pointed tongue and lightly scraping the squishy surrounding flesh with his fangs. One of his hands leaves its place on your hip and finds its way between your legs, and you let out a sigh of relief when you feel a long, elegant finger ghosting over your clit. The other hand slides further down to the curve of your ass, and his blunt nails dig into your soft skin, giving it a firm squeeze.

The pad of the wandering digit finally presses down onto the engorged flesh of your reddened knot, massaging it leisurely in circular patterns, and another finger suddenly slides between your folds, parting them gently. Unable to contain yourself, you roll your hips into his hand, which you soon learn is a grave mistake as he tightens his grip on your ass, applying such pressure that come morning, bruises are certain to form on the pale skin, which he will then tenderly kiss better while looking apologetically at you from under thick lashes; and you will forgive him, as you always do. Lifting his head up from your now rouged, swollen nipple, he readjusts his position above you, using his body weight to pin you down and hold you in place. He lets go of your ass, firmly grasping at your jaw with his newly freed hand, and even from behind closed eyes you can feel the intensity of his gaze. This does not bode well, and try as you might you cannot ignore the sickening pinch in the pit of your stomach as his eyes scrutinize every inch of your face—has he noticed? Is a punishment in order? Will he deny you your release?

“Open up, darling. Your mouth.” The commanding tone with which Astarion vocalizes the otherwise unassuming words is all it takes to placate your erratic thoughts, and obeying is for you as natural as breathing—or it would be, if you were still alive. Once you do as he says, you feel his thumb pressing on your lower lip, forcing it further down. He slides the digit inside your mouth, gagging you slightly, and your lips instinctively close around it. “Good girl,” he purrs, and encouraged by the tenderness of his praise, you start lightly sucking on it, coating it with saliva. For a short moment, he becomes entranced by the feeling of your wet tongue massaging his skin, and his mind wanders to the thought of your plump lips wrapped tightly around his cock. This prompts him to once again start bucking his hips, rubbing the now obvious bulge underneath his pants against your stomach, but this time his rhythm is much more frantic, more desperate.

Relief washes over you as you feel the fingers still in your mound resume their fondling, the one on your clit now applying greater pressure, handling it much less gently, yet just as skillfully, his knowledge of all the ins and outs of your body having always been something he prided himself on. The other makes its way down from its place between your folds, plunging into you as soon as it reaches your entrance. Your body jerks in response, and your moan is muffled by his thumb in your mouth—when he then plunges another, stretching you open without giving you time to adjust, you involuntarily bite down on the digit gagging you, sinking your fangs into his flesh. He grimaces, and you can tell you have hit an artery, because the flow of the thick, hot blood running down your throat is alarmingly heavy. However, rather than pulling away, he lets you drink, curling his fingers inside you and massaging the tight walls of your cunt with his knuckles. The rich taste of his crimson lingering in your tongue and spreading inside your body, mixing with yours within your veins and making them pulsate with life—pure, raw, vibrating life—works as a powerful aphrodisiac, heightening all your senses, and the feeling of him fucking you with his fingers is all it takes for you to come undone on his hand, muscles spasming and clenching around the digits, coating them in the sweet nectar of your release.

Just as you reach your climax, Astarion’s own teeth sink into the indentations marking the otherwise smooth skin of your neck. You instinctively cock your head to the side to grant him more access, letting him feed on you as you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm, sucking on his thumb still. His blood flows from him to you and then back to him, and the sheer intimacy of it brings you so close together that it’s as if you have merged into one single being. You can no longer tell where you end and he begins, as your minds touch and mesh and then untangle again, in a sensual, chaotic dance, where you both sway to the rhythm of his heartbeat. And while the connection lasts, his emotions rush through you and yours through him, rendering words meaningless as the everlasting adoration, the inebriating, all-consuming love you share, no matter how tainted, is laid bare before you, in all its wickedness and allure.

“Fear not: you are mine.”

You finally open your eyes, letting go of his thumb, and as the fog from the afterglow subsides you notice his fingers remain inside you still, gliding effortlessly up and down your twitching walls, which are now lubricated with slick and come; your skin tingles from the overstimulation, but the sensation is not unwelcome. With the hand you have just freed, he holds your head in place while he continues to feed, and you both stay like this for a while, his fingers buried inside your cunt and his fangs in your neck, where they rightfully belong. His little grunts as he drinks from you and the feeling of his hardened cock pressed flush against your stomach rekindle the ache between your legs, causing the living blood now coursing through your veins to flow to your tender core.

Having drank to his heart’s content, Astarion pulls away from you, making you wince at the sudden emptiness as both his fangs and fingers leave your body. No longer plagued by the perpetual, agonizing hollowness of vampiric hunger, his only reason for feeding on you still is the invigorating thrill of your taste on his tongue and your blood pulsating in his arteries; you were his first, after all, having offered him the greatest gift of them all when you had no good reason to. Killing you on the evening he first revealed his true nature had never been out of the question, and it puzzles him still why you would willingly surrender this sanguine gift to a vampire stalking you in the night—a pitiful creature, hiding in the shadows, with murderous intent and offering you nothing but pain and misery. He is reminded of your foolishness and naïveté every time he sinks his fangs into your soft flesh, and the familiarity of it is oddly comforting to him.

Not bothering to wipe the red smear on his chin, he brings his hand up to your mouth once more, only this time his digits are covered in your juices. A single look into his crimson eyes, clouded with lust, tells you all you need to know, and you eagerly obey the silent order, wrapping your lips around his fingers.

“Ever so obedient, aren’t you, my sweet?” His honeyed words and impish smile send shivers down your spine, and unable to talk as your tongue flicks and swirls, lapping at your own sticky essence, you look up at him through your lashes with coquettish demureness; his pretty little spawn, always so good to him, so docile, so devoted. The very sight of you makes his cock twitch with desire. “I do find it charming when you play your darling little games. Mostly because you are awful at them. You did know I was aware the entire time, didn’t you?,” although his smile widens, there is a hint of danger in his voice, “That you were awake.”

As his blood within you rushes to your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears, Astarion’s expression darkens, and the lust in his eyes grows wilder, more desperate. There is something endlessly enticing about how bashful and girlish you look with your face hot and flushed with his crimson, like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar, and it makes him want to devour you whole. He abruptly slides his fingers out of your mouth, and the glistening string of your fluids that forms between your lips and his digits breaks off as he uses that same hand to grab your neck and bring your face close to his. Once you are mere inches apart, he stops for a moment, the proximity between you such that you can feel his long lashes brushing against your skin and see the flecks in different shades of red swimming in his irises. The stillness in the air makes you acutely aware of the sound of his heartbeat, and it paradoxically both comforts and torments you. Such is the nature of your relationship; yearning and sorrow, worship and regret, lust and greed. The duality of it is not lost to you, but you’re past the point of coming up with justifications, for it is far too late for redemption. You made your choice, he made his, and now his burden is yours to bear. It matters not if outsiders looking in cannot make sense of it, as the bond between you was never meant to be understood by anyone else—however ugly and twisted it may be perceived by those around you, it is undeniably a bond of love, one you are willing to protect even if it costs you everything.

“Until the world falls down.”

When he finally closes the distance between you and crashes his mouth into yours, your mind is wiped clean of any semblance of coherent thought and your senses are filled with nothing but him—his scent, his warmth, his taste. He hungrily parts your lips with his tongue as soon as your skin touches his, your teeth clicking in his desperation, and his grip on your neck tightens. You feel tears well up in your eyes, some spilling through your lashes and rolling down your cheeks, your repressed emotions overflowing as you lose yourself in the fierce intensity of his kiss. You want him, you need him, you hate him; you love him, oh how dearly you love him, more than life itself. He explores the inside of your mouth, wantonly, passionately, only stopping to suck on your bottom lip, nipping it with his fangs and lapping at the droplets of blood blooming from the punctured flesh. Once he pulls away, gasping for air, you are both a disheveled mess, lips swollen and bruised and red. Not yet letting go of you, his fingers wrapped around your throat still, he guides your head back down, laying it on the soft feather pillow, only to then straighten up his torso, hand on your neck holding you in place and darkened eyes looking down upon you. From your position below him, he looks ethereal, almost godly, as the moon casts a pale halo around his frame, shining its light on the naked skin of his upper body.

He holds this position for a while, silently studying your face, and as he does, his intense gaze seems to gradually soften, mellowing out into almost tenderness. You feel the pressure of his fingers on your skin lessen, and then cease completely as he frees you, raising his hand up to cup your cheek. His thumb traces the trail of dried tears, and you lean into his soothing touch, eyes wettening once more. Taking notice of this, he leans back down and brushes his lips against the teardrops threatening to escape from your lashes, drying them before they fall.

“Shh, my darling, hush.” The softness in Astarion’s voice and the gentleness of his caresses as he runs his fingers through your hair are all you ever yearned for, all you ever needed, and yet with every touch your chest tightens and you feel a pang of loneliness and guilt tugging at your unbeating heart, for this is what you want, but not what you deserve. You failed him, just as he failed the others, and your regrets bind you together for eternity as the thread of your fate entangles with his in a constricting embrace—so is it too greedy, to let yourself be selfish and indulge in his warmth before the sun rises? Is even someone as broken and wicked as you allowed a moment of reprieve, however brief? You know not the answer to these questions, nor do you think you ever will. All you know is that there’s nowhere else you want to be but in his arms, no matter how much it hurts, for you’ll endure the pain as long as you are by his side.

“Kiss me,” you quietly plead, your supplication barely a whisper, prompting him to pull away slightly to look into your eyes. He takes a moment to try and read your expression, his gaze sharp, inquisitive, stripping you off all your defenses and laying you bare before him. A short time passes, and without saying a word, he lowers his head down again, lips brushing against yours, their pillowy softness and the taste of your blood still lingering on his skin shrouding your mind in a white fog. You raise both of your arms and wrap them around his neck, bringing him closer as your mouth matches his movements, the desperation of before now manifesting more tenderly, more lovingly, but just as intensely. One of his hands remains on your cheek as he kisses you, and with the other, he finally unlaces his pants, freeing his neglected erection, which by now is slick from the precome leaking from its engorged head. The color of the sky outside slowly begins to brighten, now a beautiful blend of periwinkle and cyan, and as the twilight peaks and starts to reach its end, Astarion decides he has waited long enough—he will take you here and now, before the merciless, harsh light of the sun engulfs you both.

Feeling his hardness against your thigh, you readily comply, spreading your legs apart. You need this just as much as he does; to be one with him, carnally, for your souls have long merged, and there is no you without him just as there is no him without you. As he lines up with your entrance, his lips leave yours and he presses your foreheads together, staring into your eyes with reassuring tenderness. You feel the tip of his cockhead flush against your dripping sex—the reddened, puffed up skin feels warm, and thinking of how it is swollen from his blood in your veins is all it takes for him to finally snap and give into his desires. He slides inside of you in a single thrust, the wetness from your juices facilitating his entry as he stretches your walls to accommodate his large size. You try to bite back a whimper, your eyes once again tingling and prickling with the promise of tears as one of your hands finds its way to the back of his head and your fingers become entangled in his silvery curls. Not moving immediately, he waits a while, giving you time to adjust. You revel in the familiar feeling of his cock stuffed inside your core, the pain and warmth of it, and you wonder if he too can find comfort nowhere else but in your flesh, as it is only when filled with him that you are able to hold together the broken pieces of your descended mind.

The hand that had been cupping your cheek now rests on your waist as he moves his head to nuzzle the curve of your neck, taking in your scent. Ever so slowly he starts rolling his hips back and forth, planting gentle kisses on the delicate skin where his fangs had been buried just moments ago, now stained with patches of dried blood. You close your eyes, still trying to hold back the tears, hugging him as tightly as you can, or as tightly as he’ll let you. His pace is at first languid, sensual, allowing you to feel the entirety of him as he massages your aching, tender walls, still sensitive and spasming from your orgasm. He grunts in your ear, prompting you to start undulating your own hips, doing your best to match his rhythm. Emboldened by this, he moves his hands down to grab your ass, tilting your pelvis up and pulling you closer to him. Just as desperate to feel him as deeply as physically possible, you wrap your legs around his midriff, allowing him to reach the innermost parts of your throbbing cunt. When the tip of his cock brushes against the spongy skin of your cervix, your gut tightens and you cry out for him, unable to contain yourself.

“Astarion…”

The sound of his name in your lips, so very eager, so very sweet, is all the encouragement he needs, and the once languid movements give way to more vigorous pounding, the lewd sound of smacking flesh echoing in the otherwise quiet room as he snaps his hips and buries himself deeper inside your aching core. Your body rocks in rhythm with his thrusts, the tears in your eyes finally escaping your lashes and running down your face, a chaotic culmination of all the pleasure, all the hurt, all the desire and all the devotion brewing deep inside your heart as your raging feelings come to a boil. No one can understand, no one will understand—and yet, as he fucks you senseless in the early hours, pumping his cock in and out of you with lascivious abandon, none of it matters. You hold him even closer, pressing your squishy breasts flush against the sweaty, glistening skin of his chest. He moans at the sensation, intensifying his pace and using his hands on your ass to tilt your pelvis higher, pushing your folded legs, which are still wrapped around him, as close to your upper body as your flexibility will allow it. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretching and burning, but this only excites you further, and the soft whimpers leaving your lips escalate in frequency and loudness alike.

As he continues pounding into you, Astarion’s kisses on your neck become more passionate, more heated, going from pecks, to licking, to sucking, until eventually he gives in and once again sinks his fangs into the bruised flesh. You mewl faintly and your grip on his hair tightens, in response to which he bites down on you harder, nails raking across the skin of your ass as his thrusts grow fiercer, more violent. The message immediately gets through to you—the cheeky little spawn must know her place—so you obediently let go of his curls, although your digits remain entangled in them still; yet he does not slow down his pace, ramming into you with such force that you are afraid you will have trouble walking once he is finished. Mercifully, one of his hands leaves its place on your ass to hover above your swollen clit, which twitches desperately as his cock resurfaces and then disappears again inside your cunt. He grasps it between two deft fingers, massaging the engorged bundle of nerves as a reward for your obedience, and that is all it takes for tension to again start building up in your groin.

“You have given me everything.”

His digits on your tender bud; your blood running down his throat; his cock slamming into you, stretching open your tight walls—you are so very close to climaxing again, and yet you don’t want the moment to end; you don’t want morning to come, breaking the spell and robbing your lover from you, as it always so cruelly does. The tragic inevitability of it is however unaffected by the infinitude of your existence, a gift that was also bequeathed to you by him, and enveloped by the ice-cold embrace of the memories of your death, your body comes alive as you are pushed over the edge, your twitching cunt fluttering and contracting around him, creaming and squirting your sweet juices all over his length.

As you slump back and go limp is his arms, Astarion unlatches his mouth from your neck and props up his torso to marvel at your image as you bask in the glory of your release—so maddeningly beautiful, cheeks and plump lips flushed bright pink with what remains of his lifeblood within you; his consort, his spawn, his to use as he pleases, his and nobody else’s. While he continues fucking you through your orgasm, all you can hear are his low moans and grunts and the squelching sounds of your wetness as he ruts into you with ever increasing furor. You can tell he is also close by the way he holds your hips with both of his hands, pushing his own against them with almost vicious ferocity while you remain slumped on the headboard, tits bouncing cutely with every thrust. The daylight seeping through the curtains now brightens up the room, and as you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, you notice how handsome he looks illuminated by the gentle glow of the rising sun, sweat beading his temple and dripping down his chin and nose.

“Gods…” he groans, voice raspy with lust, and with one final push he empties himself inside you, filling you to the brim with his seed, which feels thick and warm flooding your tender walls. Still panting and sucking in sharp breaths, he falls on top of you, not bothering to pull his cock out of your still spasming cunt, chest flush against yours and head burrowed in the crook of your neck. Spillover runs down your thighs and soaks into the wrinkled sheets, but neither of you bother cleaning it up, the resulting stain surely to give the maids good reason to blush later.

You bring a hand up to his silky curls once more, gently running your fingers through them as you feel the calming thumping of his slowing heartbeat vibrating against your cold skin. As the dawn finally breaks over the still sleeping city, signaling the beginning of a new day in your undead life—for better or for worse—you find comfort in the warmth of his flesh and the sound of his ragged breathing as it gradually steadies. All your suffering, all your pain; if even your death is required to bring him to life, then so be it. He will live for the both of you, and you will love him for it. Forever—for good.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

[melodiesz]

Vampire Gojo ( ´ཀ` ) {18+}

Vampire!Gojo never seemed to shut his mouth. Whether that be his constant snacking, talking your ear off all day, or his personal favourite, sucking and nibbling at your skin.

“Baby,” he begged miserably. His head was laying on your lap where you lay on the couch, previously trying to read a book you’d been meaning to start before he shoved his big head in the way.

“Please, just a little drop?” he pleaded, tho you knew better. He’d start by asking for just a small drop of your blood, then it would escalate to a load of it dripping down his chin.

“No, toru. I’m not your personal blood bag.” And you weren’t, he’d never treat you like that. But your blood was his favourite delicacy, one he couldn’t help but be desperate for.

He pouted, fangs poking out of his lips in a way that made him resemble an upset kitten. He grumbled but settled for climbing onto the couch with you, laying his body flat over yours with his head nestled into your shoulder.

Just when you thought you’d get a moment of peace, he licked a stripe up your neck, rough tongue gliding up your jugular. You quickly pushed him away with a giggle at the ticklish feeling. “Satoru! You’re so gross.”

He pressed a apologetic kiss to your throat and grinned slyly. “Sorry.”

——

Once for movie night you two decided to watch Twilight, which he was clearly invested in before running on about how inaccurate it was.

“Jasper is just dramatic, I would never struggle to control myself around blood like that.”

You laughed at his cocky words, and the way he somehow couldn't see the irony of them.

You were in the kitchen, quickly chopping some assorted vegetables when you nicked yourself. It was just a small cut on your finger that would heal easily, but a good amount of blood began dripping down your finger.

Turning to grab a cloth to wipe it up, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you spotted Vampire!Gojo resting against the doorframe, leaning towards you and sniffing the air like a search dog.

“Something happen?” he asked with a tilt of his head, keen sense of smell clearly already clocking the answer.

You rolled your eyes and held up your finger to him, showing the small cut that just happened to bleed a lot. In a split second, he was moving forward and grasping your hand, taking your finger into his mouth to lick up your blood.

You gave him a deadpan stare as he sucked at the cut, drawing more of your sweet blood out with a dazed look in his eyes. The way he sucked at your fingers was lewd, something you’d seen before only in a very different scenario.

When he pulled back a string of drool connected his red-stained lips with your now sucked-clean finger, and he was panting with a disheveled look on his face.

He pushed you against the counter, caging you in with his arms next to your body while he pressed his lips to yours, moaning desperately into your mouth. “Baby… .shit. lift your leg.”

——

Vampire!Gojo, who was balls deep inside you in missionary with your legs over his shoulders, his body pressed close against yours like he wanted to melt into you.

Hickeys covered your neck, little bite marks here and there as he tried to refrain from fully breaking your sensitive skin.

But when you came on his cock with a cry of his name he couldn’t hold back any longer, groaning before widening his jaw and sinking his fangs into your neck with a muffled whimper.

The addicting taste of your blood filling his mouth is what sent him over the edge, thick cum filling your cunt in steady spurts. Blood dribbled out and down his chin, dripping onto you and sliding down your chest.

He detached from your neck to lick up your tits, following the blood where it had dripped down and cleaning you up oh-so nicely. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, cock quickly swelling back up when your cunt clenched down on him at the feeling.

“Mmfh- toru, missed some,” you mumbled, pointing to the blood pooling down from his marking on your neck.

You could see the way his eyes turned to hearts. “You’re too good to me,” he sighs out dreamily before attacking your neck again. His hips continued pounding his cock into you now as he whined and moaned loud enough to put a pornstar to shame.

— tw: period sex —

And when it was that time of the month? Yeah, he needed to be locked away.

He huffed, clearly restless with the smell of your blood coating the air.

“you know… . .orgasms help with cramps,” he added helpfully while passing you your freshly warmed heating pad.

Your glare held no humour in it. “Your dicks not going anywhere near me.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he smiled cheekily, showing off those pearly white fangs that had you raising an eyebrow cautiously.

That’s how you ended up with your panties and shorts pulled off, laid flat on the bed with a ruffled towel underneath you. He was between your spread legs, his tongue deep inside you, eating you out like you’d been starving him.

He moaned into your pussy, nose pressing against your clit deliciously as he kept trying to push his tongue in deeper, licking up the mix of your blood and slick and literally drooling onto your cunt.

“You’re disgusting,” you whine, torn between pushing him away or pulling him closer.

“but you like itttt” he teases, earning a flick on the forehead which makes him gently nip your clit in retaliation.

——

I hate the way I wrote this one but I haven’t posted in weeks 😭 a Sukuna fic is coming soon tho so stay tuned !! ❤︎

[ao3topshipsbracket]

Tumblr Top Ships Bracket - Round 3

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with many of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement, and refrain from harassment.

[missaengg]

Between Two Villains

Day 26 of Kinktober: Visions of Temptation hosted by @xxsycamore found here Featuring: Ikemen Villains | Ellis Twilight x Jude Jazza x f!reader Tags: mdni, smut, pwp, threesome - f/m/m, oral sex, spitroasting, cum swallowing, p in v sex Prompts: Spitroasting | “Oh, you'll regret letting me know that you like this.” A/N: I’ve been wanting to write this ever since the Between Two Villains event. While I don’t think Jude would be willing to ever have a threesome, especially with Ellis, it doesn’t hurt to dream about being sandwiched between your two villain faves, right? 🙃 ao3 link here.

They’re so close… You can feel the sweltering heat of their bodies smothering you like the stifling humidity of a hot, muggy summer day.

The bed’s wide enough to fit three adult bodies comfortably, but Jude insists on sleeping in the center of the King size bed, there’s no way he’ll scoot over to give you more space, and Ellis is acting like your bodies are glued together.

You groan, feeling your body temperature rise from the heavy comforter and the two men pressing into your sides. While the mission has been completed successfully, the assassination on the Queen’s life thwarted and those involved taken into custody, it’s the middle of the night. All that’s left to do is sleep, but…

Do they have to insist on sleeping in your – the Queen’s – bed?!

The heat is suffocating, though some of it may be due to the proximity of the two men sharing your bed.

“So damn warm… Feels like you’re burnin’ up with a fever,” Jude grumbles from next to you.

You want to scream then move, but you refrain because knowing Jude, he’ll just shove you further into Ellis – who’s curled around you like a clingy cat nuzzling his sweet, innocent face into your shoulder – and take up more space like the twisted villain he is.

“She’s warm, and she feels good… Hey, why won’t you hug me back?” Ellis asks.

Even if you want to, you can’t move, sandwiched so tightly between the two of them you can’t even properly breathe. You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling because if you turn either way, you’ll be embarrassingly nose-to-nose with one of the two members of Crown.

Your cheeks flush from the relentless heat and the absolute ridiculousness of your current predicament.

“Heh… What’s with the red cheeks? What kinda indecent thoughts are ya thinkin’?” Jude jabs you with his elbow, and though you can’t see him, you just know he’s smirking that sadistic little smirk of his.

Trust Jude to find a way to make this even more awkward.

“Aren’t you the indecent one, climbing in someone else’s bed?” you shoot back.

“Not me. What kinda villain’d do such a thing, huh?”

Ugh.

“Oh, do you want to do something indecent? Sure, what would you like?” Ellis eagerly jumps into the conversation having completely missed Jude’s sarcasm.

“What?!” Your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. Out of all the Crown members who are likely to even make such a lewd suggestion – aka almost all of them – you never expect Ellis of all people to make it.

Ellis looks at you earnestly as he asks that outrageous question, but your look of disbelief and bewilderment is lost on him as he continues.

“Maybe you’d prefer doing it just with Jude? Or with both of us?”

You can hardly believe what you’re hearing, what he’s suggesting. It’s the first time you’re hearing him suggest something so immoral, other than insinuating he’ll kill you when you’re at your happiest, which honestly just seems like a side effect of his Curse.

“Oi, quit draggin’ me into this mess,” Jude says. “If ya wanna do it, go ahead. I’ll just watch. That’s what you’re into anyway, ain’t it?”

“Really? Hm, if you insist,” Ellis hums.

Your face is growing hotter and hotter as the conversation progresses. Not only do they barge into your bed after catching the assassin, now they’re talking about such illicit things like you’re not even present!

“Would you please get out of my bed and sleep in your own rooms?!” You want to hide under the covers from the awkward humiliation, but also to conceal the strange flutter of excitement stirring within you, especially from Jude.

“But I’m too worried to leave you alone,” Ellis sweetly protests, as Jude quips, “Bed here’s comfy so I’ll pass.”

Technically, Jude is right. The Queen’s bed is the most comfortable bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is plush, stuffed with the highest quality down, and the blankets are soft, made of the highest quality fabric, but…

“Ugh, honestly!”  You’re too tired to deal with this… blissful indecency and arrogant selfishness, and you decide to give up on trying to get them to return to their rooms. “Fine, just stay here then. Good night!”

You pull the covers up all the way over your head blocking them from view. It’s clear they won’t leave, and you have no choice, but to try and get some sleep – if you can get any sleep, the tingling sensation taking residence in between your thighs likely to keep you up for some time.

“Oi, why’re ya tryin’ to sleep like a damned corpse?” 

“She’s hiding, now I’m sad…”

Jude scathingly grumbles, and Ellis whines. Ellis shifts away, finally giving you some space, and you sigh in relief, but your relief is short-lived when Ellis joins you under the covers.

“Hey, this mission was hard for you, right? I can make you feel good, if that’ll make you happy.”

Ellis’s suggestion is tempting. So very tempting. Your thighs rub together unintentionally, trying to relieve the tension that’s building from what his soft, melodic voice is whispering in your ear.

You realize the movement isn’t lost on Jude when he clicks his tongue and mutters, “Knew it. Nasty woman,” under his breath with a hint of what sounds like amusement.

Great, just… great.

It’s so dark under the covers, you can’t see Ellis, but you feel his large hand slip under the Queen’s silk nightgown you’re wearing, reaching until he’s cradling your bare breast in his palm.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers.

He kneads the soft tissue, brushing his thumb against your firm nipple. His other hand comes behind your head, guiding you to him, and he gently captures your lips in a series of feathery kisses.

Your head protests at how inappropriate this is… You’re in the Queen’s bed wearing the Queen’s nightgown, but Ellis’s kisses are so sweet and so tender your body’s betraying you, and you’re melting into his tall frame.

“The covers are too heavy, aren’t they? I’ll remove them for you.”

Your eyes snap wide open. Pushing the covers back will mean Jude can see what Ellis is doing, what you’re doing, how exposed you are with the nightgown bunched around your chest. Before you can even speak, Ellis is already lifting the covers, and you can feel Jude’s piercing amethyst eyes boring into the back of your head, judging the living fuck out of you, but your mind goes blank when Ellis recaptures your lips with his. His fingers are doing things to your breasts that make you shiver and moan and want more, more of his honeyed touch.

Jude shifts from behind you, and you realize with a start he’s groaning – groans you assumed were coming from Ellis – and… Was he stroking himself?! 

The idea of Jude getting off on watching you and Ellis is thrilling. You throb at the thought, thighs clamping tightly together, rousing tremors vibrating throughout your hot, bothered body.

A cold hand – which can only be Jude’s as Ellis’s burn – slithers up your quivering thigh. His hand is like ice on your flaming skin, a welcome respite from the inferno you’ve turned into. His finger hooks into your underwear and pulls it down in one swift movement before probing your slick crease and circling your aching clit.

Your hips violently jerk when he slips two fingers in.

“Naughty princess,” Jude snickers. 

Your cheeks burn, but Jude curls his fingers, and the moment he does you’re moaning. His fingertips caressing that heavenly spot has you arching your back and curling your toes, and you’re writhing from the hot and cold hands exploring your wretched body. You reflexively push your hips back against Jude, silently begging for him to go faster… deeper… Between Ellis and Jude, you’re losing control, caught in an overwhelming whirlwind of lips and digits and limbs. 

Ellis notices Jude’s entrance and pulls away from his quest to conquer your lips. “Oh, Jude. Do you want to go first or should I?”

“Tch… I’m already down here, ain’t I?”

Jude snakes his arm around your waist and fluidly pulls the two of you up until you’re bracing yourself on all fours. Ellis warmly smiles, slipping out of his clothes and re-positioning himself by your head.

His erection stares at you imploringly.

And what a pretty erection it is… His cock looks just like him. Tall, slender, pleasantly safe yet enticingly manly. 

“I want to feel you. Can I feel you?” Ellis innocently asks, and you’re so mesmerized by how alluring he looks, you lick your lips and part your mouth, curious as to how he’ll taste. Ellis takes that as an invitation and pops his twitching member into your waiting mouth.

He tastes salty. Pleasant. His fragrant musk overtakes your senses, and you swirl your tongue around his smooth tip, eagerly bobbing lower and lower down his shaft until he’s tickling the back of your throat, and Ellis is closing his eyes with a blissful, dreamy sigh.

You hear rustling from behind you – Jude removing his clothes. Something long and firm slides through your folds, probing your inner lips and coating itself in your syrupy arousal. He sinks in without warning – not that you expect anything less from him – and you lustfully whimper as Jude buries himself to the hilt. 

“Foolish lil bird…”

He’s stretching you deliciously open, the friction of his cock in you electric. While Ellis is allowing you to take the lead, Jude is bullying your dripping cunt, grasping the sides of your hips in a bruising, vice-like grip. He callously pounds into you like a madman, almost as if he’s punishing you for your depravity, and the dichotomy of their demeanors muddles your hazy mind into a torrential, dizzying spin. 

“Ngh… you feel so… so nice…” Ellis breathlessly rasps. His fingers tangle themselves in your hair, jerking uncontrollably as your mouth works its sinful magic sucking along his full length.

The room fills with the sounds of your desperate moaning, Ellis’s ragged gasping, Jude’s angry grunting, and a degenerate, wet squelching, a cacophony of debauchery.

You’re drowning, caught in roiling, turbulent waves violently crashing against the shore of your inflamed body, but you want – no, need – more. You can’t tell up from down, but it’s not enough, and before you know it, your trembling finger is reaching for your clit.

“Whaddya think yer doing, huh?” Jude growls. “If ya wanted me to torture ya some more, all ya had to do was ask.”

There’s a dark, twisted edge to his words, and he forcefully shoves your hand away. His arm wraps around your waist for leverage so he can continue furiously rutting into you while his other hand finds its way back to your swollen pink nub. His movements are rough, but they only add to the storm brewing in your center. Jolts of lightning course through your veins.

You’re teetering on the edge, one tiny push of pleasure away from falling.

“Mmm… I–I’m close… I…” Ellis tenses in your mouth. His breathing is labored, needy whimpers humming in his throat.

Ellis looks absolutely breath-taking. A rosy flush covering his cheeks. Sweat beading along his brow. Unruly, wavy hair sticking to his forehead. Twilight eyes fluttering closed. A pretty, pouting mouth dropping open.

He’s beautiful.

“Catch me in your mouth, okay?” Ellis’s voice cracks as he pleads achingly, and before you can make sense of what he’s asked, he pulls taut, passionately crying out your name and feverishly convulsing, spilling onto your tongue.

You swallow rapaciously, milking every last drop out of his spasming cock. He tastes bitter, salty, and sweet, and you don’t want to miss a single drop.

The taste of him… the sound of his ecstatic cries… the daze of his glazed-over eyes push you over the edge, and you fall, careening into a deep abyss. Your fingers curl desperately into the sheets, your vision explodes with stars, and staggering shockwaves rip through you so ferociously, you’re blinded. You tremble and quiver and shake, and you clamp down around Jude so hard, he hisses savagely.

You don’t know whether you should scream ‘Ellis’ or ‘Jude’, but your mind is so addled, it doesn’t matter, and you’re only capable of deliriously mewling instead.

As the tension leaves your body, you dissolve into a puddle of rapturous exhaustion. Your arms can no longer support you on their own, and Jude’s hold around you is the only reason you haven’t crumpled into an unraveled mess.

Ellis soothingly runs his slender fingers through your hair, delicately stroking your scalp with his fingertips, mumbling sweet nothings in your ears while Jude nips your neck and sneers…

“Oh, you’ll regret letting me know that ya like this.”

You barely register the promise of torment laced under Jude’s sinister words or Ellis gently pulling out of your slack mouth and switching places with Jude, your trance breaking only when Jude looms inches away from your face. Something wicked gleams in Jude’s eyes, complementing the arrogant smirk splayed on his lips.

“Hope yer ready, Princess, cause I ain’t gonna be so gentle with ya.”

You shudder. The threat of his words aren’t lost on you, and as Ellis slowly slides into your abused cunt and Jude abruptly shoves his cock between your parted lips, only one thought runs through your mind…

It’s going to be a long night.

[links-in-time]

A Problem Shared

This fic was inspired by this brilliant short comic by @mirensiart. Go check out their work it's awesome.

“Anyone else see that Wizrobe cast a spell on us during battle?” Asked four.

“Nothing happened though,” Wild shrugged, holding up a hand to count his fingers. “I feel fine.”

“Could it be a slow acting spell?” Time mused. “Stay alert to any changes.”

“Hmm, I don't recognise this magic,” Hyrule uttered, mostly to himself.

“Great!” Legend exclaimed, hands on his hips, scowl across his face. “A surprise spell, that's great! With our luck the spell will randomly make us explode or something.”

As the veteran continued to speculate, a fly appeared in Wind's vision. It wafted lazily about, buzzing irritatingly.

“Heh, we're not going to explode Vet,” Sky chuckled softly, finding the image alarmingly funny.

“You don't know that!” Legend bellowed in response.

At that moment the fly had the audacity to land on Wind's cheek. In retaliation, Wind slapped his hand to his face, squishing the bug with a satisfying clap.

“Ow!”

“What was that?!”

“Ouch!”

“What the fuck?!”

“Oww.”

“Sailor!”

“Agh!”

“What's going on?!”

Wind stared around at his companions. Each was rubbing their own cheek, as though they had all been slapped across the face.

“Wait… you all felt that too? Oops, sorry.” Wind shrugged, very confused and beginning to turn his suspicions onto the fly smashed into his palm.

“Yeah”

“Unfortunately.”

“Yup!”

“Yes!”

“Yeeah”

“Yes…”

They all replied at once.

Wars let out a long pained sigh as he rubbed his freshly raw cheek.

“So… a spell that shares pain huh…” he grumbled.

He and Twilight caught each other's eye and the same sickening thought passed between them.

“We are so dead.”

***

The first few hours passed by without much incident. Though each of the Link's found themselves a little short of breath after their hike up a steep valley. As they stopped to make camp, they all sighed a collective breath of relief to have a long rest. Even Wind and Wild, who would usually have bounded up the trail like mountain goats. Meanwhile Sky tried his best not to look too guilty.

Nothing of note happened during their evening meal either. Though Wild feared he might actually spontaneously combust from how many times the others told him to be careful with his knives, as he chopped vegetables for stew.

“Ooh hot!” Sky hissed, as he swallowed a mouthful of broth before blowing on it.

“Ouch!”

The exclamation rang around the ring of heroes, each experiencing the same sting of pain to their tongues. Waterskins and canteens were quickly reached for, to extinguish the burning in their mouths.

“Sky, can you please not burn off all our taste buds?” Legend asked, turning a wry look on his brother.

“Sorry, I wasn't thinking,” Sky pailed, taking extra care with his next mouthful.

“It's alright Sky, besides, the Captain doesn't have any sense of taste anyway!” Time smirked, before shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“Hey, take that back!” Warriors demanded, playfully slapping Time across the shoulder.

He regretted it instantly of course, when the same mild shock struck his own shoulder.

“Wars?” The others grumbled.

“Let's just try to refrain from any horse play, alright?” Twilight suggested, carefully inching away from Hyrule and Wild on either side of him. “We've gotten pretty familiar with each other on this journey. We can easily hurt each other without really trying.”

“And what's the bet that all of our pain tolerances are different?” Legend remarked, staring down into his stew.

He eyed the rings adoring each of his fingers. Legend struggled to remember the last time he had taken any of them off. Though he had given the healing ring to Rulie to borrow briefly.

Most granted him some kind of power or protection. However, there was one in particular which he knew he couldn't live without. The Vet swallowed a lump of carrot as he wondered how things would fair in the morning. Maybe if he tried to be the last one out of bed, it wouldn't be so bad.

“Let's just get some rest and hope this spell wears off by morning,” Time suggested.

“Agreed,” Wars chimed in.

The boys finished their meals and tucked themselves into their bed rolls, a safe distance away from each other. Previously on more than one occasion, someone had woken from a night terror and attacked the closest body. No one wanted an incident like that while they were trying to get some sleep.

***

“You feel any change this morning?” Four asked Twilight, as he staggered over to where the older hero was perched on a log on last watch.

“Don't think so, but then we didn't feel any different after the spell hit anyway. I don't reckon we'd know if it wore off without trying it out.”

“Hmm, you first!” Four chuckled.

“Yaww! Morning,” Sky yawned, as he sat up and stretched.

He smiled as he caught sight of his brothers.

“Anyone else awake yet?” He asked, rubbing the crust from his eyes.

“Not yet, but…” Twilight began, but he was cut off, as a surge of pain stabbed through what felt like his entire body.

Four dropped to his knees, his arms wrapped around his torso.

“Ahh!” Sky breathed, leaning forwards as the wave of aches washed over him.

“What the heck?!” Warriors exclaimed in a sleepy angry voice.

He rolled onto his side and out of his blankets as he squeezed his eyes shut. The others were all making similar cries and moans as they were rudely awoken by whatever had inflicted this all-encompassing pain upon them.

“Sorry everyone.” They heard Wild say sheepishly.

He carefully stretched his neck and limbs before getting to his feet and stumbling towards the fire.

“It's the scar tissue, it gets stiff in the mornings. Especially if it's chilly like it was last night,” he explained.

“I know what that kind of ache feels like,” Wars sighed, “this isn't that Wild. This is something else.”

“It’s me,” Legend muttered.

Sitting cross legged on his bed roll with his head hanging, the others struggled to see the veterans face.

“What do you mean it's you?” Hyrule frowned, slowly getting up and wincing against the pain. Had Legend somehow managed to hide an injury from them?

“The pain, it's something I've had for a long time. This ring helps, but first thing in the morning is always the worst.”

Legend held up his hand for the others to see. Though he wore so many rings he could have been referring to any of them. He swept his fingers through his fluffy fringe to brush it off his face, before dropping his hand in his lap.

“How, how long have you been dealing with this Lege?” Hyrule asked hesitantly.

Legend was aware that Hyrule had been inching steadily closer. Any moment he expected his successor’s hands to start glowing. He needed to put his mind to rest quickly. Well, as much as he could.

“A long time, Rulie. And before you start, I've tried every healing remedy under the sun. Even magic ones, so your healing magic won't help. I'm sorry, but it just won't.”

“Legend,” Sky sighed, finally out of his blankets and sitting close to the embers of the fire.

“I don't want your pity, any of you,” Legend hissed, turning his gaze around the group. “And you'd all say the same if it was the other way around. It'll be tolerable in half an hour or so.”

“We've broken camp in less time than that before,” Four sighed, plonking himself on the ground beside Sky.

“Does that mean every morning we've got on the road, you've secretly been dealing with this pain?” Wind asked.

Legend thought the kid looked like he was dealing with his and Wild's morning aches worst of all. Even his voice sounded strained as he stumbled towards where Time sat on his bedroll.

“I just,” Legend sighed. “It can't be helped, so I just get on with things, same as the rest of you.”

“We'll wait until everyone feels well enough to move.” Time decided, pulling Wind against his side as the sailor sat down beside him.

“Fine, but this better not become a regular thing. I can deal with my own curses the same as everyone else!” Legend insisted, fixing Time with an intense stare.

“Curse?” Wild asked, suddenly even more concerned.

“Figure of speech Champ,” Legend winked at him.

***

If Warriors was less combative towards the Veteran from that moment on, no one mentioned it. If Hyrule felt more inclined to stick close to his predecessor, Legend didn't mind it. The others tried not to think about their brother's many aches and pains earned from years of adventuring. Not to mention the fact that the guy hadn't even hit twenty yet.

Time sighed as they walked along the woodland trail and considered his own lot. He was the oldest, sure, but not by a lot. The others had made wild guesses about his age, but in truth he believed himself to be in his mid thirties. Time couldn't be sure of course, he'd never known when his birthday was. But Malon thought they were the same age and that was good enough for him.

Time and many battles had given the man his own share of aches and sore joints. Though not bad enough apparently to debilitate the whole group. He thought about how poor Wind had still struggled to get moving, even after the rest seemed to have recovered. Twilight had given the kid a piggyback ride until he felt steady enough to walk on his own.

Legend drew the sailor into a one armed hug and muttered an apology. But Time heard Wind insist that Legend had nothing to be sorry for. He expressed just how impressed he was that the veteran hero still got up every morning and got on with his job, the same as the rest of them. Legend didn't respond, but as Time glanced over his shoulder he caught the tips of Legend's ears turning pink.

***

The Lynel literally walked into them. Whether it had been laying in wait for them, or just happened upon a group of heroes in the wild, no one cared to ask.

“No heroics!” Warriors shouted almost immediately.

As swords and other weapons were drawn, a million memories flashed through his mind. All those times one of them had stepped in front of another to save them from a blow. That wasn't going to work today. They didn't know if it was solely pain that was being transferred yet. If wounds could also be shared between them, they were going to have bigger problems than the Lionel.

“He's right,” Time barked. “Keep your guard up and stay out of each other's way. We don't need any friendly fire or hits taken for each other. Understood?”

Everyone nodded and the Lynel charged. It went straight for Sky, perhaps the billowing of his cloak caught its attention. The young knight stood his ground, Master Sword held firmly in his grasp ready to strike. He glanced quickly left and right to make sure no one was nearby, then tried to remember the move Wild had shown him.

Sky waited until the Lynel was only a few feet away before stepping to the side and swinging his sword diagonally. He slashed the Lionel across its chest, leaving a deep gash in the flesh. It skidded to a halt a few meters behind Sky, letting out a furious roar which scattered a nearby flock of birds.

Unfortunately, the Lynel turned and swung its arm straight into Twilight, who had been trying to sneak up on it. The beast's forearm hit Twilight across the chest, sending a ripple across the group. Four and Hyrule both staggered backwards, while Wind was almost knocked off his feet.

“Argh, sorry!” Twilight grunted, but the others weren't listening.

The pain receded quickly and Wild prepared to line up a shot on the Lynel.

“Watch out, it's…!” Wars began to shout.

An instant later the Lynel opened its fanged jaws and let forth a bout of flame. The boys scattered, rolling or dodging out of the way to avoid being singed.

“Ahh!” Legend cried.

“Lege!” Hyrule winced through gritted teeth as he bit back Legend's pain.

“I'm alright. Just my leg,” Legend replied, quickly glancing at the fresh burn across his right leg.

“Yeah, we know,” Sky grunted.

“Wild, can you take a shot?” Time barked.

“Not at this close range. It moves too fast. I'm gonna get some distance, can you guys draw it to me?” Wild asked, already turning and sprinting off through the trees.

“I guess we'll have to try,” Time huffed under his breath. “Boys, draw the beast to Wild!”

The others nodded in understanding and hurried to help however they could. With one painfully burned leg each, they struggled to maneuver. Legend got the Lynel’s attention by blasting it once with his fire rod.

“Hey, over here!” Twilight bellowed, launching his boomerang at the beast.

The gale boomerang struck the monster in the back of the head, driving it into a tree with a blast of wind for good measure.

“No!” Wind shouted from the opposite direction. “Here!”

He let off a piercing whistle which cut through the air. The Lynel snapped its head around to stare at the young sailor. It narrowed its eyes and pawed a hoof at the ground. Huffing loudly through its nose.

“Sailor, run, now!” Warriors ordered calmly.

Wind had time to glance once at Warriors, and back at the Lynel before it lowered its torso and charged. Wind turned on the spot and sprinted full pelt after Wild.

“Catch me if you can, you bastard!” Wild shrieked over his shoulder

Before Time or Warriors could shout ‘language’, Wind was off. Brambles and branches snatched at his heels and his clothes, but Wind shook them off. He could feel the Lynel’s hoof-beats rumbling through the ground behind him. He couldn't slow down or he was going to die.

“Hylia please let Wild be out here somewhere!” Wind uttered, grunting as he fought his body to keep on running.

As though in answer to his prayer, Wind saw a hint of blue among the trees up ahead. He grinned when the visage of his brother came into view, standing in the middle of the path directly in front of him. Wind knew what he had to do, and he trusted Wild not to kill him in the process.

“You wanted him, now you got him!” Wind cheered at Wild, who answered his call with a smug little smirk.

Just as Wind was within a few meters of Wild and his outstretched sword, Wind dropped. He skidded forwards on his knees and slid on the damp grass right past Wild. Overhead, Wind heard Wild shift his stance ever so slightly as the Lynel thundered towards them.

Wild waited. And waited some more. He waited until the Lynel was mere feet away. Until he could smell the sweat on its flanks, and the brimstone on its breath. The Lynel swung its blade. Wild launched himself into the air. The forest spun in a blur. He was vaguely aware of the blue smudge of Wind somewhere nearby, but he had to keep his attention focused on his enemy.

The blade in Wild's hand moved as an extension of his arm. The Lynel lifted its head to roar at just the right moment. Wild smiled in the fraction of a second it took him to slice his blade across the monster’s artery.

***

“You're in pain Rulie, it's fine honestly. Don't strain yourself.” Legend insisted.

Hyrule gave him a deadpan look, his hands glowing and glittering with healing magic.

“Legend, I'm in pain because your leg is burnt, you idiot. If I don't heal you we'll all feel it for hours. Not to mention your wound could get infected.” Hyrule insisted, as he pushed Legend back down to the ground, a little more forcefully this time.

“Please just let him heal you, Lege. I don't know about the rest of you, but between the hit Twilight took and Legend's burned leg, I'm not feeling too good.” Four grumbled.

He was still rubbing his chest and sitting in an ungainly pose on the ground. Twilight could have sworn the smithy’s eyes flashed with a hint of ruby red for a moment. The pain in his own leg was akin to more of an annoying itch, but clearly it was having a stronger effect on the others.

At that moment Wind and Wild pushed through the brush nearby and rejoined the grouo. The tired and withdrawn expression on the Sailor’s face drove away the last of Legend's resistance. He let out a long drawn out sigh before he stopped trying to get up. Legend nodded once at Hyrule, then crossed his arms and waited.

While Hyrule set about fixing his predecessor's leg, Time gave Wind and Wild a look over. His gaze fixed on the scuffed knees of their youngest hero.

After digging around in his bag, Time pulled out two potions. He offered one to Wind who only grumbled briefly before taking it and sipping at the crimson potion. Time offered the other bottle to Twilight. Ordinarily Twi wouldn't waste one of their potions on something so trivial as a punch to the chest. However, given that it wasn't only his own pain he needed to heal, Twilight assented.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Warriors sighed.

***

“Okay, I think we've found a counter spell,” Legend announced over dinner that evening.

He and Four had been scouring each other's spell books for over an hour. At last they happened upon a spell which seemed to meet their requirements.

“It's a fairly simple counter spell, but it has an element of a separation spell too,” Four added.

“Any side effects?” Time asked, pausing as he lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips.

“It's not a very helpful spellbook. It's pretty old and I can only decipher the most important parts,” Four admitted.

Legend nodded and decided to ignore the flash of violet in his brother's eyes. He'd been surprisingly focused during their search, almost gleeful to get his nose stuck in a pile of books. Four was often found reading of an evening, but this task seemed to have awoken the true bookworm in him.

“I say we put it to a vote. It's likely the spell will wear off eventually, but with our luck we could sustain another serious injury before then. All those in favor of trying the counter spell, raise a hand.” Warriors decided, already holding up his own hand as he looked around at the others.

In quick succession the rest of the Chain raised their hands, some holding spoons, into the air. Twilight and Time were the only two to hesitate. They shared a gaze and Twilight shrugged. After that they both lifted their hands and Time nodded to the Captain.

“Alright, we'll give it a try. Is there anything you need for the spell Legend?” Time asked.

“Um, I'm gonna need a hair from each of you tied into a knot,” Legend replied, squinting at the book for confirmation. “Hyrule, I might need your help too. In case my magic reserves aren't enough to cast it.”

“You can count on me,” Hyrule nodded.

With a fistful of hairs in various shades of blond, Legend and Hyrule stood beside the campfire. Legend held the spell book in his other hand and practiced the spell for the fiftieth time that evening. Hyrule's hand lay gently on Legend's shoulder, the comforting warmth of his hand emanating through his clothes. Hyrule was always warm.

“Okay, I'm ready,” Legend said quietly, drawing the attention of the rest of the group gathered around the fire.

The boys sitting in the flickering light of the fire drew in a collective breath. Legend began to read aloud from the ancient script of the spell book. Although no one understood the language, Legend spoke as though it were his second tongue. Perhaps all that practice had paid off.

As the spell came to an end, Legend's fist holding the hairs began to glow. His knuckles grew white and Time noticed Hyrule bracing himself behind his predecessor. This was clearly taking a lot out of their vet, and he hoped it wouldn't cause him any problems afterwards.

Speaking the final word, Legend opened his fist and let the hairs fall into the fire. The rest of the boys watched with bated breath, as the little strands of gold and bronze drifted down and disappeared.

Legend breathed a long sigh of relief and snapped the spellbook shut. The moment he did so he began to stumble backwards. Hyrule seemed ready for this however, and caught his brother easily in his arms.

“You okay Lege?” He asked softly.

“I'm good, just real tired,” he huffed breathlessly, his face a little paler than usual.

While Hyrule helped Legend to stumble over to his bedroll, the others stared around at each other.

“Did it work?” Asked Sky.

“How do we tell?” Warriors questioned.

“I could cut my self real quick?” Wild suggested.

“No!” Time and Twilight barked in unison.

Wild shrank back, his previously confident smile fading in an instant.

“No one's going to hurt themselves on purpose,” Time insisted.

“So what, are we just going to wait until someone does get injured and see if we feel something?” Asked Four, sounding irked. “That's not very scientific.”

“Scien-what?” Sky mumbled, looking confused.

“Don't worry feathers, it's a future thing!” Wild chuckled. “Come guys I really don't mind. Besides, if Rulie is feeling okay he can heal me right away anyhow.”

Wild stared around at the others as Hyrule returned from tucking Legend into his blankets. The spell had almost drained the veteran and within a few moments of laying down in his warm bedroll he had drifted off to sleep.

“How's Lege?” Asked Warriors, nodding to the small lump beneath the blankets.

“Sleeping, that spell used up most of his magic. A good night's rest and a potion in the morning and he'll be right as rain.”

“What do you think, Rulie?” Wild cut in. “Wanna test whether the spell worked with me?”

“You want to hurt yourself don't you?” Hyrule sighed.

“Let me get this straight for you. I don't want to hurt myself, I want to help everyone else!” Wild insisted.

While Wild was trying to explain himself and Time and Twilight continued to insist that this was not going to happen, Wind and Four happened to catch each other's eye.

“You thinking what I'm thinking?” Four whispered.

Wind nodded. Four gave the sailor a knowing smirk as the pair of them shook out their left hands.

SLAP

All eyes snapped around to see the two smallest heroes rubbing their cheeks.

“What the hell are you two playing at?” Time bulked, staring at the two boys with disbelief.

“What?!” Four exclaimed, nursing the steadily growing red mark upon his face. “We needed to test the spell, but we didn't need a serious injury to do it.”

“The real question is did anyone else feel it?” Wind pointed out.

“I'm guessing since we're the only ones rubbing our faces that the answer is obvious,” Four remarked.

He gazed around with violet eyes, searching for any hint of pain or discomfort from the others.

“I didn't feel anything,” said Wars.

“Me neither,” added Sky.

“It seems the spell worked then,” Time sighed. “Well, I'll have to congratulate Legend when he wakes up. And well done to you too Four for finding the right spell.”

“I'm just glad it's over.”

“Maybe we can learn something from it though.” Warriors mused. “We have become a bit too reliant on potions and Hyrule's healing abilities. I for one know I've let my guard forms slip, perhaps I should come up with a training regimen for everyone?”

With an enthusiastic smile plastered to his face, Warriors looked up to gauge the Chain's reaction to his suggestion. Not one face was smiling back at him. In fact, Four and Wild looked about ready to murder him.

“Alright Captain,” Time said coolly. “Let's start with how to defend against a horde of enemies. While you're unarmed!”

Without a seconds warning, Time lunged for Warriors. His larger frame pinned the younger hero to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. While some of the others began to roar with laughter, others got the idea. Wild was the first to join in, leaping with joy as he piled on top of Warriors. Adding to his discomfort by tickling his stomach where his shirt had ridden up.

“Oh please no!” Wars screeched, in a high pitch voice none of them had ever heard before.

As more of the boys moved to help Warriors with his training, Twilight hung back. He clutched his stomach as he roared with laughter. Managing to disguise the gentle rub of his stinging cheek as he leaned on his hand.

[steddielations]

Dom Steve Fic Recs

Strange as Angels (soft dom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie hasn't been able to get himself off in months, and now he's high, sweaty, and horny, thinking about the very man sitting in his room in nothing but a wife beater and a pair of tiny athletic shorts, and he thinks he might die. Steve notices. Of course, Steve fucking notices, what, with all the squirming Eddie's doing. Steve offers to help get Eddie off. As friends do. (As long as those friends are completely in love with each other.)

Like The Hero Who Never Ran (dom awakening series) by callmejude

While Steve and Dustin are searching for survivors, they're surprised to find Eddie alive, hiding out in Rick's cabin. Steve takes up the task of caring for him while staying in his trailer.

Genius Loci (dom bottom, magic steve) by @sayesayes

It’s 1986, and Steve falls in love with a boy who is leaving. It’s 1990, and Eddie comes back home. The fic where Steve is a selectively mute, homesteading, truck-driving witch with head injuries and also somehow it's canonverse.

(Don't) cream your pants (soft dom steve awakening series) by @corrodedbisexual

“Don’t know how to cream your pants, huh?” Steve asks, unable to conceal a smirk. He hears a quiet whine as Eddie seems to try and make himself disappear inside the couch. “Want me to show you how?”

Gilded (dom steve, blindfolds, ice play) by @cheshiredogao3

Steve and Eddie are looking forward to a weekend all to themselves, but it doesn’t go as planned.

Trouble Looks Good On You (wip, spanking, kink discovery) by me indelicate

It happens like a fever dream. The first time Steve gives Eddie a swift smack on the ass, it’s obviously just an old jock habit that’s stuck with him. It wasn’t meant to have Eddie’s knees going weak, or turn his blood hot under his skin, or give him a brand in the shape of Steve Harrington’s hand, or— Nope, because Eddie’s not even into that. But then, it happens again. Or, Steve keeps accidentally awakening Eddie’s new kinks.

You Make Me Feel Like I Am Whole Again (wip, dom top and dom bottom steve) by @munsonkitten

Eddie has never felt like his body belongs to him. It gets worse after he's nearly mauled to death, left with scars and healing wounds, a lopsided chest, and more trauma stacked on top of everything already wrong with him. Steve Harrington finds out Eddie's trans by accident after the bats, and Eddie finds out Steve's surprisingly okay with it. More than okay with it.

Bite Through These Wires (soft dom steve's strap game series 🤭) by @steves-strapcollection

“Wouldn’t you be Ken, though?” Steve had hoped Eddie would ask a question like that and he had to refrain from punching the air and ruining his punchline. “I come with all the coolest accessories, so clearly I’m still Barbie,” Steve retorted, his voice going just a bit deeper as he leaned closer to Eddie.

Relax (Lay it Back) (soft dom yoga instructor steve) by @wynnyfryd

Five times yoga instructor Steve teaches Eddie how to chill the fuck out, and the one time he learns his lesson.

Melt Me On Your Tongue (soft dom, bathing) by me indelicate

“This okay?” “Yeah it’s— shit, it’s more than okay, Steve.” “… you’re crying, Eds.” Eddie can’t hold back a choked off noise then, somewhere between an overwhelmed laugh and a sob. “No one’s ever done this to me before.” He doesn’t know if he means no one’s ever given him a bath, or braided his hair, or just any of the things Steve does for him, really. Eddie's never had a Steve before.

Kiss Me (Beneath the Milky Twilight) (pleasure dom steve, virgin eddie) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Eddie has never been kissed. Steve apparently would very much like to volunteer to fix this.

Getting Lost in the Dark is My Favorite Part (wip, masochist virgin eddie, kink discovery) by queerontilmorning

After his near-death experience, Eddie decides it's time to get rid of his pesky virginity and heads to a gay bar. It leads to some... realizations... for both him and Steve.

You're a Sweet Shot of Kerosene (When I Threw it Back, it Poisoned Me) (wip, mob boss steve) by @gorgeousgreymatter-x

Whatever fucked up shit Eddie’s father had inadvertently roped him into simply by being what he was — a shit-stain excuse for a sperm donor who preferred sticking a needle in his arm to taking care of his family — well, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about to be him that pays that price. And maybe Eddie’s delirious, because by the time it’s apparently his turn and they’re dragging him down some hallway (and yeah, it’s not like Eddie’s not trying to put up a fight, but it feels almost performative at this point considering he’s pretty much hogtied here), the only real thought he has when they deposit him on yet another cold, wet tile floor is this: Uncle Wayne is gonna be so pissed at me if I get shot in the head tonight.

closer to you (soft dom steve) by @natesfwl

“C’mon baby, where's my little rockstar?” Steve spanks him, groans when he feels Eddie tense up around him from the impact, “Perform for me.” “You let me penetrate you” Eddie stutters out the line as he lifts himself up with his knees. “There you go,” Steve whispers, watching as Eddie fights to keep his eyes locked onto Steve’s when he sinks back down. or the really self-indulgent fic of steddie fucking to the song closer by NIN.

Destroy The Silence (drummer steve) by @artaxlivs

Steve becomes the drummer for Corroded Coffin and Eddie can't handle his thirst

Trouble and Temptation (series wip, businessman dilf steve) by @heartharps

“Come on, Harrington. I’d lay you badly but I’d lay you gladly.” When Steve looked up, he was glaring, as stern and serious as ever. “Eddie, let me remind you that as far as I'm concerned, nothing has ever happened between us other than of a professional nature.”

Sting, and Other Brainworms (series with switching) by @riality-check

“Do you need to go down, baby?” Eddie gets like this, sometimes. Stuck between overwhelmed and incredibly bored. Steve watches until he remembers that they have a way to fix this. Eddie calls it a hard reset. Steve calls it fucking him until he can’t see straight.

Edification (sadist steve) by aristal

“Alright Munson.” She bares her teeth and grins like a wolf. “Tell the class: what’s your biggest sexual fantasy?” A slow smile creeps into his features, and his dark eyes flash. “Oh, you’re asking the good questions, Wheeler.” He takes another long pull of his joint, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect. Steve doesn’t care. He wants to know the answer. He needs to know. Eventually, Eddie blows out the smoke, eyes a little hazy as he grins at the ceiling. “I’ve always liked the idea of being slapped around and choked in someone’s car.”

In My Boxers, Half Stoned (dom bottom Steve) by eddywow

"You can," Eddie said, almost sounding like he was nodding along to his words. The image was too pure for Steve. "You could say anything you want to me and I'd- I think I'd be into it. Because I saw your pics and like, I know your face isn't in them but- but I really like them. Is it okay that I liked them?"

Insatiable (public, skirts, cages) by @cheshiredogao3

When their club ritual is rudely interrupted, Steve and Eddie make a point of proving their bond—rather publicly.

Done Deal (series with switching) by @morningberriesao3

Steve Harrington doesn't have any money with him, so he offers to pay Eddie Munson some other way.

Lovebite (sub vampire eddie) by hellcore

It shouldn’t feel so good, being tasted.

* The next few don't have the tag but in my opinion they have dom Steve vibes and I want to include them here (:

Cyclical (wip, time loop fic, rimming, switching, lots of smut with plot) by @cuips-not-cute

steve keeps finding himself back in the boathouse where everything started, wrapped up in the arms of a boy who can’t stop dying. he's desperate to rewrite the timeline, trying everything he can think of to fix it. including falling in love.

Dirty Words by @morningberriesao3

Steve gives Eddie a lesson on dirty talk, but things start to get carried away.

Memorize My Number, That's Why I Got A Phone (phone sex) by queerontilmorning

while on tour with Corroded Coffin, Eddie makes an important phone call to Steve.

My Right Hand Man (spanking, kink discovery) by @entanglednow

In which movie night takes an unexpected turn, and it's surprisingly easy to just let it happen.

Shot Right Through (pierced eddie) by @entanglednow

Steve overhears a conversation between Eddie and Robin, and then spends a few weeks trying to think of anything else.

Pleased To Meet You (demon steve) by midnightdrive

Eddie accidentally summons a demon who is bound to fulfill his every wish. He, somehow, gets more than he had bargained for.

[tagasalita]

i know that the crooked moon variants of the edge of midnight characters aren't necessarily the same characters but if youre telling me that Marius Renathyr whose Deadly Sin is Wrath. was offering that song up to the duchess? no fucking way

following the fact that they got The Phantom(Ramin Karimloo) to feature on this track, it almost certain to me that this is a ballad to the weeping widow.

like these lyrics could not be a reference to the duchess. like, does anyone remember which other character had "taking people's pain and shame away" as their defining feature. maybe a beautiful twilight elf woman? although if i'm wrong about all of this then fucking whatever. fuck lilith. both in crooked moon AND edge of midnight.

the refrain of "hear me! see me!" makes me think of the weeping widow/lethica as well bc in the trailer she's shown to have a mourning veil over her eyes, obscuring her features. somehow the parasites in my brain are telling me that maybe this is the abbot beckoning the widow to come out of mourning and join his twisted religion of serving the duchess.

after all, this part certainly supports it. maybe

the part where he says "Her cold and hollow truth" could be referring to the fact that in eom canon its the duchess who shows marius the ""truth"" in the grail and shows what his future could be like. and also how she says "the truth is in the wine" and all that crap. it shows that even in this twisted version of themselves the duchess still presents herself as a being marius can devote himself to. someone who takes advantage of his unending servitude.

all of this to say. lethicus knows no bounds. live laugh lethicus. and nothing for that bitch the red duchess fuck that ho

[cosmiischillin]

Cosmi’s Fan Series Asks are…OPEN!!

(Boundaries + Alternative version of the image are below the cut)

I’ve been wanting to get back to working on Asks again, especially since I wanted to do so for ENAF and Twilight Town but now Rayman and Welcome Hell has been introduced! So I decided to make this a full on post to explain all 4 Asks! I wanted to do this to showcase more lore and things about these universes

Welcome Hell: Send questions to your favorite puppets acting on Hell’s most wholesome show! You ask about character lore any of the such, (just don’t ask about anything relating to Hellaverse. I base the world on its own universe of Hell)

Twilight Town: Ruby’s Good N’ Gloom blog now has a full on podcast with her friends! Ask away to learn what it’s like on the bright side of the dark side

Rayman Heroes: Heroes got fans so QnAs aren’t too far off! These Heroes of the Glade of Dreams have aplenty to say about each other and their jobs (plus they sorta gotta pay rent)

ENAF: Wether it is the main series or the FNAF World variant, ask away for these characters! (Please refrain from asking about Mimic though Tales of the Pizzaplex and Ruin are currently noncanon to ENAF, please check my boundary list)

I hope you have a ball asking these different AUs questions! (I will make links for showing characters in each one I promise)

My Ask Rules!

1. I do have the right to refuse certain asks, whether it is for the reasons I might list below or if it’s already answered.

2. I’m gonna be doing art for my posts as much as I could. If your ask isn’t given art. It might just be because I was burnt out or didn’t have the energy to drawn. I apologize for this.

3. I won’t be drawing others OCs (except for events I plan in the future)

4. No NSFW asks. My content is Teens and Young Adults orientated and I personally am not comfortable answering that stuff.

5a. If there’s a QNA on ENAF, please refrain from asking about events that take place in Ruin, Tales of the Pizzaplex, and any other FNAF media that came out after base game Security Breach (ENAF’s canon only goes up to that game of the og’s canon)

5b. Please refrain from asking about Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss/Hellaverse when it comes to Welcome Hell. While it was inspired by it early on, I have since made my own original version of Hell.

6. Try to be as brief as possible (1-4) sentences with ask. Paragraphs usually overwhelm me (sorry!)

[httpsserene]

httpsserene's F1 Kinktober '23

summary: for all people believe that werewolves are dangerous creatures, your wolf is pretty tame, even with some of his...quirks. this halloween you let him be the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood, while you give out candy to trick-or-treaters. what he doesn't know, is that you have your own trick-or treat planned for him after this– you're his treat tonight, but he's going to have to chase you first.

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. fair warning this is the most foul thing i’ve written ever. like, i thought the first upload was unsettling, but this is terrifying in comparison. this was an excuse to spread my personal feeling that i think carlos sainz jr is a massive freak, and i will take no criticism on that😩. there unfortunately will be no part two to this, it’s a standalone, i got so many things to write now, im sorry :( i hope you all enjoy it (i did an embarrassing amount of research for this aka twilight wiki), and thank you for all the support !!!

thank you to my beta readers @saintslewis and @my-ylenia ! i appreciate y'alls quick feedback :)

click here for f1 kinktober '23 table of contents.

⌕ prev | join taglist | reqs & feedback | upcoming chapters | table of contents | next ↻

were-shifter & predator/prey kink — 𝐜𝐬𝐣. 𝟓𝟓 carlos sainz jr x fem!black!reader 6k words. smut. wolf shifter au. no abo. outdoor sex. scent kink. vaginal sex. fingering. possessive behavior. predator/prey kink. tummy bulge. breeding kink. mention of knotting. mention of heat/rut cycles. unprotected sex (pls practice safe sex).

carlos is not a werewolf. carlos is a born wolf; he comes from a long familial line of shifters. while he and his wolf share a brain, carlos is in control one-hundred percent of the time. he can shift into a wolf at will and maintains awareness as the wolf. however, during the full moon, it’s extremely difficult for shifters to resist the call and refrain from transforming. werewolves, on the other hand, are created by a curse or from being bitten. they are forced to change into a beast every full moon, thirsting for blood and carnage. their humanity isn’t present in the half-wolf/half-human form; being a werewolf is like a parasitic disease. carlos’ family has found their calling in bringing a sense of order to the wild, and during full moons, their purpose is to contain and redirect the beastly werewolves from harming humans.

shifters are rare, and carlos prefers it that way (he doesn’t ever want to find out what tension multiple shifters on the grid could cause). his nature doesn’t give him any unfair advantages in an f1 car, sure, his reaction time may be a little quicker, and he heals faster–but, nothing that would classify as “cheating.” if he did have any extreme advantages, maybe he’d end max’s world champion streak, but that is not the case; anything about his nature still couldn’t make up ferrari’s shortcomings.

the only downside to being a shifter is how they’re mistaken for werewolves (even though they are obviously two completely different beings). the world doesn’t know about the shifter population at large, it’s mainly an “if you know you know” society, and werewolves are known to the masses with how many slaughters they’ve been caught doing from the beginning of time. which is massively unfortunate for carlos. if he were to be revealed as a wolf shifter, he’d probably lose everything he knows–formula one, his privacy, his family, you–and he would probably be scheduled for a public execution if those were still in place. he’s only trusted a small circle of people within formula one with the secret of his wolf; lando, charles, fernando, jon and rupert, and vasseur. it’s made his life easier having people that are aware of his true nature, so he can shift comfortably during race weekends if needed, when you are not able to join him.

regardless of how the world views carlos’ supernatural state, you genuinely don’t understand how people could be terrified of him. carlos is ‘the dream man’™, and you’re not accepting any critiques on that matter. he’s a personal-sized space heater, so you don’t have to worry about being cold at night–and he doesn’t even complain when you stick your icicle-like toes and fingers on him. he cleans without being told to, he’s an excellent home chef, he takes you golfing with him and even lets you caddy for him, he’s protective but in a respectful manner, and he even partial shifts around you so you can play with his ears and give him a good little scratch.

the only downside you could point out about carlos, is that he takes his wolf form a little too seriously. 

carlos was raised to train his inner wolf into a controlled, unfazed, unshaken, apex-predator being. the wolf has one purpose and it’s to guard his territory, the people he loves, and to prevent any werewolf murder sprees. but, you wish he’d allow himself to relax, and have a little more fun in his wolf form.

you’ve started training him, funnily enough, to allow his wolf to be off the clock sometimes. subconsciously, in the comfort of the spanish villa you two call home, he’s started to allow his ears to pop out whenever he’s relaxed enough. the spaced out and confused faces and noises he makes, with his head and ears flicking and tilting to match, invokes an unhealthy sense of cute-aggression from you. sometimes, you manage to persuade him enough to shift to his full wolf form, and that’s where you find the most difficulty of calming his behavior.

he’ll go around sniffing and rubbing his body along all of the walls and corners of the house to spread his claim, and even refuses to nap or sleep with you while he is shifted. he’d sit in the doorway of the room you were in and remain in an alert state to protect you from whatever dangers that may appear, even though he’s already sure none are present. there was one time you were able to convince him to lay with you under the guise of you being cold; he allowed himself to curl around you and rest his snout on your chest, but the way his ears remained cocked let you know that he was wide awake even though his eyes were shut.

he’s thoroughly unamused whenever you try and get him to play with dog toys. it doesn’t matter if it squeaks, crinkles, or smells–he wants nothing to do with them. he can’t say no to an old-fashioned game of fetch, though. whenever you grab a stick from outside, you hear his thundering paws running towards you before skidding to a rapid stop, his haunches firmly touching the ground while his front paws anxiously tip tap in front of him, and his whole body shakes with anticipation for your throw. and from there you started to get him to appreciate tennis balls and frisbees in fetch games. even though his massive jaw and teeth have you ordering replacements way too often.

and the thought of his massive ears, eyes, hands, and teeth—led you to your halloween costume idea. 

little red riding hood.

it makes the most perfect amount of sense. carlos can be the big bad wolf to your red riding hood! except he refused, stating that it would be shameful to use his wolf in such a manner. of course, you're disappointed at his refusal, but you respect his boundaries at the end of the day. so, you were just going to have piñon (your dog) be your big bad wolf. and then, that fell through as well. 

piñon was staying over at carlos’ parents house a few days before halloween, and ended up losing a battle to a mouse that he tried to catch through a fence. the fence scratched him a little deeply on his tummy and he ended up getting stitches and a cone of shame. while his stitches are in, he’s staying with reyes and carlos sr.–and, you’re back to square one; you’re ‘big bad wolf’-less-ness.

you don’t attempt to try and convince carlos to join you again, you just decide to keep your original costume and sit out on the porch handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters, missing the other half to your costume. it’s very simple attire, just the red-hooded cloak and a picnic basket full of candy. carlos peeks from the front window’s curtains and watches you smile sweetly at all the children and compliment them on their costumes. he hears you fein terror when kids dressed as werewolves ask for candy, he hears you fawn over the cutest kids and their costumes, and he hears your happiness falter when anyone asks where your ‘big bad wolf’ is. 

you’re in the middle of explaining how piñon wasn’t feeling well to a little girl, and you hear a muffled bark. your head perks up in question, thinking you just imagined it, but then you hear scratches on the door. confused, you go to open the door and carlos comes slinking out to join you on the porch. 

his wolf is massive, when standing on four paws his head nearly reaches your chest, his coat is a silky coloration of a brown so dark it appears black, but in direct sunlight it radiates warmth. his paws are larger than your face and the claws he’s got on them are big enough to match. the little girl shrieks and hides behind her dad’s legs, and the dad backs them up off the porch frantically. 

“no, no, no,” you reassure them, and carlos tries to shrink his body behind your legs, whining lowly, “he’s friendly! i promise he’s a sweetheart, he’s actually pretty shy!” carlos skimpers behind you, quickly managing to shove himself under the outdoor couch, only allowing his head to peek out from underneath. the dad doesn’t quite believe you, and just apologizes and just ushers his daughter to the next house.

you sigh, and plop down a little forcefully on the couch. you hear carlos crawl from underneath the seat, and rise to a sitting position at your side, resting his snout on your lap. you look down and purse your lips at his wide, apologetic brown wolf eyes and raise your hand to give him a few pets. you question softly, “are you going to join me for the whole night?”

carlos blinks at you once. an eager grin spreads across your lips, “yay! aren’t you just such a good boy,” you tease sarcastically. carlos huffs, the force of his exhale swooshing your cloak, before he turns his back to you in dismissal. you laugh at him, and the next group of kids run up yelling for candy, and carlos tries to appear as small as he can so he doesn’t scare these ones away.

after the initial scare carlos caused, everyone seems fascinated at your “wolf-dog,” and how well mannered and amicable he is. carlos lets all the kids who are brave enough pet him, not snapping once even if they accidentally tug at his tail or ears, and sits incredibly still so he has no chance of accidentally crushing them. several dads even pause to give him a sturdy little dad-pat on his side, and inform you of how “that’s a good guard dog you got there, he takes a pat like no problem.” you even impress a few of the moms with how well trained you have him, and how he listens to all of your commands and can do many tricks (so far, the most impressive trick is having him harmonize to your voice with a howl). carlos preens silently next to you whenever little kids can’t help themselves from telling you how pretty you are (his tail thumping on the floor the only giveaway), and seethes when overzealous men and women try and hit on you (growls rumbling out of his chest). you brush off their advances and charmingly tell them, “i don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate me cheating on him…especially in front of his dog,” with a disguised smirk. overall, carlos does so well cosplaying as your big bad wolf, that you decide to give him the present you planned all along. 

after the halloween celebrations die down, you and carlos return inside, and you lead the way up to the bedroom as he trots behind you. carlos shifts back into his naked human form, and you giggle and pull him into a hug.

“thank you, my love! everyone loved you tonight–you know you didn’t have to join me outside, right? i didn’t want you to feel pressured to do something you were–” carlos cuts you off with a chaste kiss to the cheek and dismisses your worry, “mi luna, i wouldn’t have gone out there if i did not want to, sí? i am happy i could make the night more fun for you, by playing your “big bad wolf.’”

you pull away with a small ‘aha!’ of remembrance and rush into the en-suite bathroom, closing the door behind you. carlos stares at the space you were just occupying and shrugs, figuring you have to pee really badly–considering you were sitting on the porch the whole night without a break– and that you’re probably changing out of the costume, before turning to the closet and pulling on clothes. 

he hears the toilet flush, and then the water runs for a minute too long–almost like you’re covering up any noises carlos may hear with his enhanced hearing, but he doesn’t think that you’d have anything to hide from him, anyways. you fling the door open excitedly, still in your riding hood, and pull carlos away from the closet and start dragging him downstairs. 

“ay–” carlos objects, “i don’t have a shirt on yet, mi amor! where are you rushing too?”

you don’t respond verbally, only glancing back at him with a cheeky smirk, and continue to lead him to the backyard. you drop carlos hand once you’ve stepped outside, shutting the sliding glass door behind you two. walking back to him, you stand in front of him–pausing as you stare into the warm depth of his brown eyes, before you take one step backwards. carlos automatically goes to parrot your movement, attempting to take one step towards you to eliminate the space, but you ‘aht-aht’ at him disapprovingly causing him to freeze. you press your hand against his chest near his clavicle and guide him to his original position. patting once with intention, you order, “stay.”

carlos’ eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t say anything. he allows you to back away from him, twitching towards you when your bare feet slip off the paved patio onto the grass. you come to a stop when you’re halfway into the yard. 

carlos calls out to you, confused, “amor? what’s this, i do not want to play fetch right now–”

“we’re not going to play fetch carlos,” you start, “we’re going to play a new game called chase.” carlos does his adorable head tilt at you, continuing to question your actions, “qué? i don’t know the game you are talking about, mi luna–wh-what-qué haces (what are you doing)?”

you unbutton the collar of the cloak, and spread the front open, from where you wrapped it tightly around your body, and reveal a matching set of the scantiest, laciest, and most mouthwatering red bra and panties. carlos is stunned to silence, mouth dropping open as his eyes fall to your exposed body. the way your smooth melanated skin is complimented by the rosso corsa-colored lingerie, the way you’re holding open the cloak to allow him to get his fill of your body, the way your hips seductively rock from one side to the other, the way the smell of your arousal begins to become apparent to his sensitive nose–before you abruptly wrap the cloak shut, tying the waistband tightly and shattering the moment.

“we are going to play a game called ‘chase’, carlito. where i run into the woods behind us, and you…chase me.”

carlos’ entranced state is shaken by his protective instincts, “qué? no, no! absolutely not. the woods are dangerous, mi amor–”

“carlosss,” you whine, “you patrol the woods every other week! you know there’s nothing that could hurt me out here, because you’ve already gotten rid of it. you’re going to give chase and you’re going to like it!”

carlos shifts anxiously, not fully persuaded, so you decide to not give him a choice, “ten minutes, love. after that, come catch me.” you turn and run into the densely packed woods, ignoring carlos’ exclamation for you to stop. he doesn’t suddenly appear and stop your disappearance into the forest, so that’s how you know the game is on.

your chest is already heaving from adrenaline and excitement as you run through the forest, ducking under branches and hopping over rocks and fallen tree limbs. you pant and the nerves start to set in, not out of fear of what’s in the forest, but fear of giving carlos an easy chase. you stop suddenly and take a sharp turn, running for a minute that way before you circle back and run at a slight diagonal in the opposite direction, overlaying your scent to try and give some added time to your pursuit. running deeper into the woods, it begins to get darker, the only light source are the scraps of moonlight that manage to find a pocket to slip through. your eyes adjust to the reduced light level, pupils blown wide not only in necessity but also arousal, and you come to a halt again. you quickly slip off your red panties and hang them on the nearest branch, hoping that the wetness that’s already seeped into them distracts him from your true location. 

you start to traverse your way through an uphill part of the forest, exhaustion finally beginning to become apparent after that first rush of adrenaline–but then, a familiar howl cuts through the air; your time is up, and carlos is loose in the forest, hunting after you. reinvigorated, you continue running deeper and deeper into the trees, changing directions multiple times losing track of exactly where you’re going.

the wolf fucking losing it. you–his luna, his mate–are out in the forest he protects—his territory—inciting him into a relieving game of chase, allowing him to be just as uncontrolled as he wants in his pursuit of you. he’s quick to catch on your trail, seeing the way you’re rushed heavy steps in the start leaves an easy path for him to follow. and then, he notices you employed different tactics to delay him. he catches himself running in circles you intentionally plotted, and notices how your scent and foot-trail overlaps multiple times. and then, he can tell you switched from running with the full bottom of your foot and just on your toes for a moment to disrupt your trail. his breaths have started to mirror yours, forceful with the adrenaline from a good chase, and he freezes. he smells you.

he speeds up to a full run, paws thundering against the earth under him, loud and uncaring if you hear him coming or not, before he bursts through the trees where your scent is the strongest. but, you’re not there. the wolf whines disbelievingly, bringing his nose to the floor to analyze your scent trail before a glimpse of red catches his attention from the corner of his eye. he spins around swiftly, expecting it to be the swish of your cloak as you run from, but it’s not you.

it’s the damn red panties you kindly left behind for him. 

he rocks up on his hind legs to knock it off the branch to the ground, and presses his muzzle to the barely there fabric, inhaling your arousal deeply. an unhinged growl tumbles his way out of his chest, before it morphs into another full howl, letting you know how much he appreciates your present. carlos won’t be fooled by any more of your tricks again, and he takes off running.

you’ve taken a brief break from running, leaning forward with your hand against your knees as you catch your breath. it’s loud around you; bugs are buzzing and you can hear the hoots of several owls echoing through the forest. suddenly, it goes completely silent, quicker than a drop of a pin. you slam your mouth shut, quieting your inhales, and you slowly shift your stance into a running position, trying to use your hearing to tell what direction the wolf is coming from. you hear the rustle of a tree on your right, and you make to leap away into a run–but it’s too late. 

you’re caught, large hands around your waist and a leg sweeps your own out from underneath you and takes you to the ground. a scream of surprise escapes from your chest but is cut off with a heavy hand laying over your mouth.

carlos is looming over you, kneeled in between your legs, bare as the day he was born, chest heaving, and pupils wide from the thrill and pleasure of a successful hunt. “caught you. i could hear your little heart racing in your chest.” he boasts.

carlos removes his hand only to replace it with his lips, and the passion he bathes your lips with fragments your mind. you can only part your lips and let him ruin you as he pleases. his plump lips suckle on yours before his tongue begins an eager exploration of your mouth–a desperate moan falls from his lips into yours. one of his hands comes to grasp at the curls on your head, tilting you for a better angle; and you raise one of yours to grasp at his shoulder for stability, but carlos startles away. an animalistic growl rumbles through his chest in dissent, and he grabs both of your wrists in one of his hands, and pins them above your head. 

you’re at a loss for words, unsure if you want to moan or plead to suck his dick, but carlos doesn’t give you a chance to decide. 

he allows himself one last soul-sucking kiss, before he presses nips into your cheeks and jaw, leading towards your neck. carlos buries his nose deeply into the spot where your jaw meets your neck, and takes an excessive inhale of your scent. dios mio. the way you smell. delectable and rich soaked with lust and the dregs of fear still clinging in the surroundings. he gets to smell this for the rest of his life. another growl erupts possessively, and you can only moan depravedly at the sound.

carlos continues to lavish kisses on his way down your body, bruising them into your skin before soothing over with a pass of his tongue. the hand in your hair releases, coming down to allow him to grasp at your chest, brushing over your nipples in a quick motion; the lace scrapes against them and the feeling is paralyzing. he tugs the rossi corsa bra underneath your breasts, and they spill out over the top in a manner so obscene it forces another moan out of carlos. he ducks his head again, to tease at your nipples with his tongue, alternating between flicking and sucking at them randomly. he ignores your hips are rolling up, attempting to get some friction, and your hands in his wrists flexing and tugging to escape. 

he frees your nipples from the assault of his lips, and starts sucking hickeys into your underboob with a pleased hum. the change in sensation and slight ache, has another scream bursting from your chest, it’s too much.

“c-c-carlos, c’mon! please, please—oh!” cutting yourself off with a gasp, as carlos abruptly pulls away, his large hand releasing your wrists,  to scooch down and bully your legs open with a free hand and shoves his broad tanned shoulders between your thighs. 

you’re dripping everywhere. the tops of your inner thighs are smeared with stickiness and you’ve created a wet spot on the cloak underneath you. a growl fully spills from carlos’ chest, shaking the air around you and causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise. he is an apex predator, you should at least be slightly terrified, but all you do is moan in response, more arousal leaking from you, and you start begging.

“carlos!p-please touch me! lobo mió—please, dont you wanna taste me? i want you to eat me,” you sob, “eat me out! you h-h-hunted me, take what you want!”

carlos laughs sharply at your obscenity, “oh? mi luna, you’re so bad, aren’t you? you should be scared of having my teeth so close to your pretty pussy, but here you are: begging, leaking, and your little hole winking and clenching at me, sí?”

you quickly agree, “yesyesyes, for you, for you, always. please carlos,” one of your hands flies down to grip at his hair and try and tug his mouth onto you. carlos snaps his teeth at you, and you quickly pull your hand away from his head, leaving it hovering in the air.

carlos growls, “don’t rush me, mi luna, i always take care of you, no?” you hum in agreement, both of your hands falling to your sides and gripping the grass next to you in anticipation.

carlos dips his head and swipes his tongue gently at your left inner thigh, and groans deeply. it’s your scent liquified; he licks his lips and smacks his mouth, savoring your slick. after that one sample he can’t help himself, he loses himself and makes it his personal mission to clean up every last drop of you that spilled. carlos’ mouth is sloppy, and he’s uncaring of how your thighs begin to shake in oversensitivity from the way his beard is scratching your thighs up, red lines appearing faintly on your brown skin. you start squirming away from his mouth, and carlos huffs, annoyed. 

his hands switch to gripping the underside of your thighs, and he pushes them upwards near your chest, and commands, “stop moving, mi amor, or i’ll stop completely.” you moan a soft breathy okay, and your moan pitches into a sharp gasp. carlos runs his nose up your cunt parting the lips, more wetness spreading, before he pauses at your clit; and deeply inhales your scent from where it’s the richest. you cry, half bewildered and half humiliated, at your boyfriend eagerly sniffing at your warmth.

carlos rumbles out, “mierda, mi luna. mmm, so sweet—i cannot wait. i have to get in you, sí?” carlos doesn’t wait for a response and presses two fingers inside you. a cry escapes you at the sudden stretch, but your scent doesn’t sour with pain—carlos continues. he rushes through stretching you; his fingers scissoring you open methodically, consciously avoiding your g-spot. the squelching noises coming from your cunt, has tears gathering in your eyes in embarrassment, even though it’s fairly clear that carlos enjoys it. 

his fingers slide out a minute later, and that same hand reaches for his dick to begin spreading your wetness over it. carlos hisses, and with a clenched jaw, he asks, “mi amor—estas lista (are you ready)?” his body is now vibrating with the force he’s holding himself back with, waiting for your approval. 

your hands release the earth, blades of grass you ripped out of the ground falling from between your fingers, and motion carlos to come closer and lean over you, dwarfing your body completely, “yeah, lobo mio, fuck me.”

carlos whimpers, head falling to rest in your neck. his hand grasps tighter at the underside of your left thigh—a bruise forming already—and pushes it firmly to your chest, your right leg bends slightly and you press your knee to his hip, urging him forward.

carlos guides the head of his cock with a trembling hand to your cunt, and gently presses in. you sharply inhale, holding your breath, until the head pops in fully, causing both you and carlos to moan in pleasure. carlos continues sinking deeper within you as controlled and slowly as he can, not wanting to cause you any discomfort. however, you’re completely gone already. eyes shut in bliss, mouth open, drool already leaking from the corner of your lips. carlos lifts his head to read your expression, and smirks, you’re so easy for him. 

he bottoms out, feeling how your walls squeeze him tightly, and flutter in desperation, like they can’t quite accommodate to his size. carlos waits patiently, chest heaving again from the strain of not taking you, and watches how you squirm underneath him, not knowing if you want to squirm away or closer. you adjust to his presence a handful of seconds later, and grind your hips up to feel the delicious drag of his dick inside of you. carlos’ eyes widen and a shocked groan escapes him before he rolls his own hips down to meet you. 

carlos sets a quick pace from the beginning, he can’t be bothered with building up his speed slowly—he has a claim to lay on you; and to any other being in this forest who can smell how alluring you are, you’re his mate.

moans are being punched out of your chest with every one of his thrusts, harmonizing with his matching grunts of effort. your back is sliding against the grassy floor, and your shoved up with every one of his deep thrusts, and you sink your nails into his back in pleasure, and carlos growls into your ear at the feeling. 

you manage to find words to praise your wolf, “s-so deep in me, carlos—yeahyeahyeah, deeper, baby, please—ah! faster, carlos, faster—“ and carlos does his best to fulfill your wishes; his mouth rests right next to your ear; his panting breaths, and moans only making you squeeze around him tighter.

he soon tires of your orders; he’s not doing his best if he hasn’t fucked the words out of you. carlos suddenly pulls out of you, and you cry out angrily with a furrowed brow, “no, carlos! don’t stop, what are you—“ and with a rough commanding tone, he interrupts you, “stop whining.” your mouth slams shut, the sound of your teeth clacking together mortifyingly loud, your eyes wide with shock.

carlos softens, patting at your hip gently to reassure you that he’s not angry. he then flips you over (cloak spread on the ground underneath you), up on your elbows and knees, and makes to mount you properly—like the wolf he really is. the air is thick, and with your back turned to him in such a vulnerable manner, adrenaline rushes through you again. carlos laughs down demeaningly at you, as your scent thickens even more with lust and smidge of fear. 

rattled at his amusement, you try to push up onto your hands and knees, but carlos automatically pushes you back down, with a heavy, hot and veiny hand scruffing you at the base of your neck. you moan out highly, as carlos forces you back down to your elbows. he releases your neck and smooths his hand down to the small of your back to deepen your arch just the way he wants, and to pull your hips up to match.

all he says is, “now, you stay, just like that—and be a pretty hole for me.”

carlos bullies his dick back inside you, and doesn’t allow you any time to adjust in the this new position. he roughly pounds into you, now only caring about getting his release—he’ll make you cum after he’s thoroughly enjoyed his prize for hunting you down.

carlos’ grunts are animalistic, and his thrusts are too fast for you to try and buck back against him to match his rhythm; all you can do is sit pretty and take what he gives you—just like he said. you can only ramble out four words in between your moans; ‘carlos,’ ‘full,’ and ‘too deep.’ carlos rumbles approvingly at your chanting this time around, and pulls your hips back even closer to dig as deep as he can, uncaring of how you're trying to run from his thrusts.  

your start babbling at the constant pressure and drag against your g-spot, he’s so deep, in this position, hitting areas he can only reach and causes your legs to give out. carlos’ hips don’t falter, as he catches you pulling you back up with a hand around your navel. and then his hips stutter in shock with a crude moan. he grabs one of your hands, causing you to fall flat on your face, head turned to the side with your cheek pressed to the cool red cloak—and guides it to your stomach and holds it there.

carlos resumes thrusting, and preens, “mmm, can you feel that, mi amor? i’m fucking you so deep—ah—you can feel it through your skin.” you can feel it, and the pressure from carlos pressing your hand on his own dick from outside of your body, has your eyes rolling back and tears streaming down your face. your legs go limp again, but carlos isn’t fazed; he continues to hold your body up for you. “so good for me,” carlos rambles, “mio luna—my mate.”

abruptly, you feel it. the press of his knot against you, and in a sudden moment of clarity, you start to beg. 

“—los! kn-knot, please! ‘arlos, breed—ahahah—breed me deep and full—oh!”

carlos gnashes his teeth, growling savagely, before he leans down and forcefully bites down at the back of your neck—not enough to break skin, but enough to remind you of his teeth for a few days. you shudder, air stolen from your lungs, and you have no choice but to cum. 

carlos feels the way your pussy flutters around him, failing to push him out with your release flooding your thighs, and how it continues to drag him deeper within you in a hypnotizing motion to milk him dry. carlos struggles to thrust once, twice, thrice more times with how tightly your cunt is gripping him and shoves his cock as deep in you as possible without allowing his knot to slip in, filling you up nice and good—breeding you just like you wanted. 

carlos rocks you two both through the aftershocks, ensuring his cum coats your insides thoroughly, only slowing to a stop when your combined release starts frothing at where the two of you are joined, and your hips start squirming away from him. he guides you back, sitting you on his lap, keeping himself inside you, as he rotates you to face him.

your makeup is ruined. mascara and eyeliner staining your cheeks with the tracks of your tears, red lipstick smudged on your brown skin, eyes wide and still glassy with moisture. carlos swipes his thumb around your lips, fading the smudges as best as he can. 

you smile softly, and ask with a light tone, “wasn’t that fun, mi lobo?”

carlos can only laugh softly, and nod, “yes—i did not know that you would enjoy being bred on the forest floor that much.”

your cheeks flush again after they began to cool, and you smack carlos shoulder in embarrassment. your brow furrows, and your mouth drops into a pout, “why didn’t you knot me?”

carlos raises an eyebrow at you teasingly, “ah, sí! you were begging for it like whore—“

“carlos!”

“i’m joking, i’m joking, mi luna! of course you were begging, more like a slut for my knot than a bitch in h—“

“dios mio, carlos! your fucking mouth after you cum—jesus christ!”

he can only laugh harder, extra pleased at how he gets you to fluster so easily, even after he just railed you in the middle of the forest.

“ay, mi amor—i’ll stop, im sorry,” he starts still grinning cockily, “pero, i did not give you the knot you begged for so sweetly, because my rut is in three days, sí? and i can’t afford to bruise your pretty pussy with my hefty knot before then, no?”

you balk. carlos’s semi-annual rut is a force of its own, you're practically out of commission for a week after it, unable to close your legs from how raw it leaves you. his knot bruises your insides every time you take it, so he definitely made the smart decision by not folding to your cries of desperation.

the scent of the two of you's satisfaction permeates the air, intertwining with the smell of sex, and carlos can only lean forward to mouth at your neck to taste how well he took care of you tonight. 

“mmm,” carlos hums, “now—do you want me to carry you back to our den so i can finally get my mouth on you and clean you up, or do you want me to make another mess of you right here, mi luna?”

© httpsserene - do not reupload. photos in header image are from pinterest. divider by @cafekitsune.

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

you sleep with a firearm, i should've pulled it on you

No matter how many times Terry awoke to a dual-hair-colored mage staring him down, it never got any less… jarring, to put it lightly. He yelped, seeming to equally startle Callum, who drew back.

“Oh! Sorry!” he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No no.” Terry attempted to wave it off, also trying to put his heart back in the proper place in his chest, wheezing. “Just, uh, just gave me a wee little fright! Nothing to, uh, nothing to worry about. So! What can I do for you this fine…” He glanced out the window. Not even dawn yet. “Twilight?”

Callum sat back on his shins. “I needed to ask you some questions. Burning questions.”

That couldn’t have waited until a reasonable hour? Terry refrained from asking. There were always naps. “Ask away.”

“Were you there?” he asked.

Terry sat up straight. “What?”

“Were you there?”

“Again, I say: What? What, exactly, are you asking me if I was there for?”

“When he got out,” Callum repeated, like it was meant to be obvious. “I need to know how it happened. When we fight him next time, it needs to be foolproof.”

He ventured to set a hand on his arm, this boy who was so young but so much like Claudia, vibrant and curious and intense. “I don’t think there’s such a thing as foolproof–”

The mage shrugged it off, not unkindly. “Just answer my question, Terry.”

“Claudia had to do a spell,” Terry said after a pause, the events of that day playing in slow-motion, wondering if, for the hundredth time, maybe he could have taken her down a different path at the fork in the roads. Maybe he could’ve taken her off the trail entirely. “To return a spirit to a body.”

It was difficult to explain, eerie, but everything in the room was suddenly off. His hair stood on end, the fire stopped crackling and waving in the hearth, and Callum got very, very still. “What did you say?” he said, not even a question, exactly, in a voice Terry had never heard before that sent something he didn’t like down his spine.

He shifted away from the zappy prince. “Um, a spell. To return a spirit to a body.”

Green eyes on fire. Callum’s, or Claudia’s?

He shook his head.

“Tell me the spell.”

It wasn’t hard. The words were engraved in his head. He should’ve stopped her himself, then and there if he had to. “Amor Stella Vitae.”

His eyes only widened for a second, then hardened. Fists clenched at his sides and he pushed himself up, cold in more ways than one–a curmudgeonly “Get a grip”–as he stalked off.

“Um, where are you going?”

The mage didn’t care to bother with a response, only threw the door open and let it slam shut.

ao3 :)

[piracytheorist]

The kindness surviving

As I can't stop saying, one of my favourite things about Spy x Family is how focused it is on humanity's innate kindness. Its premise is three lonely people finding a family (and themselves) with each other, the story's endgame is to secure peace, it's hopeful in the midst of its realism, and it allows characters to be vulnerable when it comes to family and connections.

And one more thing that is added to that, is how Yor and Twilight (to a less obvious degree) have retained their kindness and compassion through their violent lives and professions.

Yor started the assassin gig when she was just a teenager.

Adding to that how it was a choice she made out of despair and lack of any other choice, and how the Shopkeeper seems like a despicable person to work under (there's no moral merit to recruiting children for assassinations, let alone orphans with no other choices left), this could have easily made into a story of how Yor became cold and emotionless and cruel.

Instead, particularly thanks to having Yuri in her life, she's remained as kind as ever, even when she kills people. She doesn't torture her targets, would rather refrain spilling unnecessary blood, and she's careful and quick in her job.

And through all that, her priority has never been herself.

She's kind, almost to a fault. She's polite and when it comes to everyone else but her targets, she thinks they have the best interests at heart and can even be confused sometimes as to why some people behave in a rude or cruel way.

She's human. Her reason to start and continue being an assassin was to ensure her brother's carefree life, and now that she's bonded with the Forgers, they've joined Yuri in the way she wishes to protect their peaceful life.

It's showing that despite her violent work, her humanity has prevailed, making her selfless and nurturing. It's in our nature.

Twilight's case is handled differently, as he has denied himself any identity and attachments to ideals, aside from protecting the peace.

He's not supposed to "have" traits or a personality. He was trained to be able to adapt to any situation and become the role he's acting as. When he acts as a father, he can be kind and caring. When he acts as a terrorist, he can be cruel and violent. And when his job gives him no option but to kill people who stand in his way, he'll do it without remorse.

But again, like Yor, his reason to do everything he does is to ensure peace remains, so that no-one will have to suffer like he did. That's a very empathetic and compassionate motivation, and though the circumstances of his life made him bury it deep, the moment Anya cries and clutches onto him for comfort he's reminded securely of that.

As he is when he sees Anya smile.

He cares for the next generation and wants to provide it with a better future than he had. And while the previous season showed many moments of instinctual kindness (saving the kid from the charging cow, sparing the German shepherd, thanking Bond for saving Anya, encouraging Carroll Campbell to play fairly) and understanding of how humans can work together (his discussion with Desmond, talking about how despite different stances, people can still meet in the middle if they try), the cruise arc showed how he prioritized on making Anya happy. While at first he was confused by the concept of "having fun", he eventually ended up observing Anya and encouraging activities that would make her happy.

Again, after a certain point the "mission" is nowhere in his mind and he only worries how Anya's mood will affect her and the family. As he focuses on that, he turns compassionate, empathetic, and dare I say, sweet.

And I can't help thinking those are traits he doesn't have to pretend that much to show, if at all.

He's a master of manipulation and deception. He could act tooth-rottingly sweet to deceive his targets, but seeing how open and unprecedentedly honest he becomes with Yor, and how (even if he doesn't realize it) he actually learns to be a good father to help Anya with her mood, I don't think that's the case with those two (three, if you count Bond too!).

If nothing else, we (and Anya) have the advantage of hearing his thoughts, and while we joke about how "For The Mission" is his flimsy excuse to himself for the feelings he's developing for his family, it's truly important how he's started to not need the reminder; how he can instinctively care for them, because it's what his compassionate nature tells him to do.

And I think, just like Yor, it's very important and telling that through his life of violence and deception, his humanity has survived just under the surface and is starting to show more the longer he stays with the Forgers. He's not "learning" to be compassionate and caring; those are traits that already existed, but he had to cover with all his fake identities. However, since they were what led him to become a spy in the first place, the way didn't replace the motivation.

He's human, even though he willingly trained to suppress any such vulnerable spots, they could never be extinguished entirely.

This story is full of hope for humanity and how kindness can survive and prevail among anything else. Its characters would logically follow the example.

And I love them for it.

(Anime only here, don't spoil me for the manga)