#ah my foes

[garbagequeer]

rewatching gossip girl like a 14 year old and i'll be real with you it's still so stressful when foes conspire crazy style against serena and everyone believes them because serena used to be troubled 500 years ago. screaming LEAVE HER ALONE GET A JOB at the stupidest plotlines ever conceived by the cw

[vaalthus]

Convergence Part 1 (spoilers)

*Deep inhale*

*Long exhale*

THE TIME IS NIGH!!!

So to start,

I have to say I was utterly shocked that Jaania chose not sacrifice any more of her forces to buy her more time weave her spell but after giving it some thought it's an action that makes sense for her. As I mentioned in commenting on the Final Steps release, Jaania is finally able to see that our motivations we're always intended to strive for everyone's sake in the best of ways we knew how. As a result, she's hoping we can see and have faith in the good she's trying to bring about through her ascension.

As such, it makes no sense in her eyes to waste the lives of those who have been so loyal to her in helping her reach this moment when there's a chance their lives can be spared by us and they in turn be able to experience the world she seeks to achieve. Though those same troops would have been more than happy to lay down their lives for her so that world is brought to fruition. It's just a pity Jaania didn't give the order to retreat sooner otherwise the last of the Pelekoans might have survived.

What troubles me is the comments like these:

It's no secret to anyone that the last of Jaania's forces were those who were most loyal to her and her vision but what I find troubling here is the inevitable aftermath of these people once this conflict reaches its conclusion. As Hansa, pointed out to us in the Awakened Depths, Jaania became a beacon for those who had a simple wish to be achieved: to be free of any and all magical threats that Lore offers. However, it's not just these soldiers that want that, it's the nobles, the farmers, the little guys that have been supporting the Rose all these years across Greenguard and likely still do, sure that number has definitely taken a dive since the start of Book 3 but I doubt it's still insignificant. All of those people will soon find their dreams and the person who was meant to bring back a sense of uninterrupted peace in their lives is about to be dashed. We can only hope their response to this reality is constructive as opposed to the opposite.

What I've been saying all along folks :3

Miss me with that "we're not so different you and I" speech.

I like to think this is the Hero taking all they've learned about the ability to make choices in the Maleurous saga and is just throwing that much needed wisdom back at Jaania who feels the need to instill order in the world.

This comment is interesting to me because we have seen the Hero effectively try and be everywhere all at once for eveyone's sake, quite almost obsessively I might add, and I feel if Jaania hadn't recently just had a change of heart on her perspective on them, and taken the time to analyze the Hero's deal, she might have been able to more strongly appeal to their need, their desperation, in protecting everyone they can. Not that it would work either way, the Hero's distrust and deep-rooted fear of her, as seen in Fear, showed that getting us on her side was simply not possible.

If she was more predatory, of course, she would have used that aspect against us as every other villain that attacks our psyche has done before. A neat contrast here is what I'm pointing out.

*sigh* Every single new questionable scene with this woman continues to force me to find comfort in the fact that her and the other Magesters too dependent on the Mana Core Fragment will be dead eventually thanks to Roirr's actions. I truly want to believe there's a positive future for the Shapeless Empire that doesn't involve exploiting its citizens through this agreed upon cycle without violence but the rotting hands of the past never want to let go of control easily.

YOU GAVE THEM TRAUMA AND WEREN'T EVEN SORRY!!!

Okay technically this right here is the more sensible reasoning, but I stand by what I said! What I like most in this scene is that we simply reaffirm what we've been trying to tell her since this whole mess started with her organization. Everything we bring up about the harm the Rose has done thus far has been consistent and aren't negated by the fact that Jaania, at heart, wants to do what she believes is best for everyone's sake.

What I love even more however is how she averts her eyes the moment we bring up Akanthus because she knows she can't even reasonably, or delusionally for that matter, deny she has made a grave error in judgement in allowing Akanthus' abuses on, well, basically everyone, and soon everything, in his wake. It's that "Yeah, ya got me there look" that just sends warm feelings down my spine.

Now if you told me at the start of this saga Jaania was going to offer us a bargain to effectively play as the puppeteer god of fate alongside her, I definitely would have called you insane. It's moment I'm sure comes as a complete shock to everyone, it certainly did to me anyway. And honestly why wouldn't it? It's one thing to ask us to stand down and simply allow her to achieve apotheosis but it's a completely different matter to propose to come and play god. But it's one that sadly makes all too much sense.

Jaania has admitted that she has made terrible mistakes and has been too much of an imperfect being in her quest to achieve peace and prosperity for Lore. So better way to accommodate for her ham-fisted actions and judgement so far then to have someone like the Hero to hopefully keep her worse tendencies in check. As opposed to someone like Akanthus or Zadd who would, in all likelihood, make things worse had they been afforded the opportunity. There's another reason I believe she makes this offer but I'll get to that later.

Nothing else to say here beyond epic callback!

Out of all the Hero's moments in this quest, I believe this is where their experiences throughout the Maleurous saga shines through the brightest.

In a way, you could argue that, in spite of the obvious chaos that will come with it, Jaania's plan is to instill an eternal order, a Destiny, upon Lore itself, one in which she will insists never ends as she dictates. Yet the Hero knows the importance of others being able to decide the paths they choose to walk, I'd argue they've known that since Calamity, without some transcendental hand to yank them in another direction against their own will. So they certainly would not agree to be the one to dictate the fate of all those that live on Lore let alone allow someone as misguided as Jaania to do it.

Okay, I think we all knew that the void pearl was too easy a solution to deal with Akanthus and was likely not going to work but there's something absolutely amusing about Hesperrhodos being used a shield to be sent to the Void and then teleport immediately back to Lore without issue since, ya know, Elemental Spirits can just do that at any time. Hell I at least would have thought that thing would have let a monster through or something. The downside to seeing Zvezdana looking completely slack-jawed after these events unfolded is the fact that we still don't have a damned plan to take Akanthus out of commission...so yeah.

I have to say I love this final appeal Jaania gives to the trio of combatants because it shows a few things. First, that she still fails to understand that her organization was really only giving the illusion of peace to all those the dwelt within range of the Rose's reach and even then only really through the lens of normal humans. Second, it displays that she never truly had a proper grasp on the relationship she fostered with those she worked alongside. Lastly, she places too much hope that wanting the same things is not the same as agreeing ideologically how get those things.

Which inevitably leads to one option: Violence

I have waited 12. long. years. for this very moment. 12 years spent waiting since we broke free from that ice cap. 8 years I waited since from the first time we saw her again in Timelines. 7 years since the original Gala and our spat. 4 years since dealing with the second rift and I had a deeper appreciation for her mental state which motivates her.

And now I am finally here to fight Jaania one on one. So, you best believe I fought alone to prove which of us was could beat the other!

The following boss fight that ensues is perhaps one of the best thematic story fights in the entire game at this point, as it should be for the antagonist that is the face for this entire saga. I'm quite pleased that devs designed her to be difficult, hell I'm even glad that couldn't easily soul gambit my way out of this one.

In terms of mechanics, it's everything you could expect, Jaania does everything she can to debuff us and each time she fails and has her health cut down in bulk she commands even more strength to take us down, even attempting to go for the old freeze'em solid trick and when that doesn't draw any purchase thanks to Aegis she relies on her new found soul weaving arts to dispatch us. All the while we deal with the tragic music in the background tugging at the heart strings for a conflict that should have been avoided.

How far we've come since the Doom Amulet was our first real challenge in-game for year, eh?

And can I say how amusing it is that Jaania trapping us in ice is something that could only work once? Aegis apparently always had the means of unfreezing, he simply couldn't due to Draco keeping everyone away from where we were placed. So, with him already being close by to protect our soul from going poof, there's no way he's going to let us get trapped again. Even more amusing is to think about how Jaania is basically using the old ice soul weaver meta to take us on.

But after all of that we prove in the end, with or without aid, to be stronger than Jaania, at least in this exact moment.

It's a pity though that the moment does not last as expected Jaania will not let it end without fighting at her full potential.

This right here is the reason I believe Jaania made her initial proposal to us and why I bring up the Maleurous saga. For me at least, it's easy to see the similarities between Jaania and Notha. Both are exceptionally powerful accomplished mages that desperately sought out to change a world that gave them deep rooted traumas that they wished to change that world so that the suffering they experienced could not continue. However, where Notha wanted to bring about chaos to change the order of the world; Jaania is hellbent on imposing order on the chaos the world of Lore and its magic offers its inhabitants. Furthermore, I suspect, unlike Notha, that Jaania cannot bring herself to reconcile with the trauma magic has placed on her life and the people she cared about. Most defining of all though, which will likely be her downfall, is her need to be in control of everything so that she or anyone else might never hurt again.

Antagonists like Jaania are always left in a hard spot. They seek to rid the world of suffering and conflict forever and while that is a noble desire they fail to realize how unfortunately intrinsic those things are to existence. Thusly they bang their heads on a wall until they're bloodied and broken only for that dream they longed for to dissipate before their very eyes.

And so, her last option is to go full synchronization. I can't guess what happens next here with Jaania. Judging by the increased streaks of white in her hair, her soul is continuing to unravel though I think she's in no worse of a state than Tomix was when he was at the end. I was originally going to say synchronizing with a corrupt spirit created through forbidden magic would spell instant catastrophe for Jaania but then I remembered Aspar was created through the same means, although he was just a fragment, so she might pull off the effect with little issue.

I suppose we must simply wait and see what becomes of our troublesome Arch Magus and where the winds will turn for her ambitions.

And of course, there's still this asshole and the doom device.

[cypric-rat-hyperfixation]

As my following grows and as I meet more and more people who have rats, had rats, know someone who has/had rats, and love rats...

increasingly I wonder if/when a day will come... a day that I'll express rat enjoyment to someone and they'll enthusiastically ask me if I've heard of This Funnie Little Rodent Blog they like, figuring I may already know it or will enjoy it if not...

and it's.. my blog... and then I have to come out as popular Rat Tumblr blogger that they follow and now know IRL.......

[perchingominouslysmwh]

touched my drawing tablet for the first time in like a month today and felt the tingles you get when you touch an artifact that's important to the storyline but then the villain also showed up with not so much as any ominous bgm to tip me off and then the screen blacked out so like- we have a cliffhanger on our hands fellas

[butchviking]

i hte hte hate hate HATE that burning the candle at both ends has become a phrase for like. working late doing overtime whatever. thats NOT what it means and wasting ur finite time on this earth at ur job does NOT give a lovely light. u people will never understand

[chuluoyi]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 (𝐔𝐍)𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋

- sylus x reader

master and servant. man and his right hand woman. you and sylus are labeled many things, but does love exist in many labels of your relationship?

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, fluff, unrequited love, explicit smut, fwb, jealousy, hurt/comfort, description of major injury, blood loss, gore, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), spoilers! takes place throughout long-awaited revelry

note: my very first love and deepspace fic! :') w.c 5.2k ! i have a severe brainrot omg tagging @sanriosatoru per request <3

Everyone knows of your relationship with Sylus.

The leader of Onychinus and his notorious lady assassin, you two strike fear into his foes and allies alike. You are as deadly as you are beautiful, and that's more or less why he keeps you around.

What everyone doesn't know, however... is that behind closed doors, you too share his wealth and his bed.

“I don't mind to spend the whole night with you,” he’d whisper in your ear seductively at nights, deft and veiny hands roaming your body all over. He often made you ride on top of him, dark burgundy eyes hazed with lust, knowing full well that you desired the very same goal he did.

And you’d respond his hunger with the same fervor, crashing your lips into his, your tongues intertwining, your hips moving vigorously against him.

“Ahh... ah!” Before you knew it, his cock—thick and long in size—slid inside you in such a snug fit, making you throw your head back and dig your sharp nails into his skin.

“Keep me going with your voice, kitten.” Sylus growled, eyeing your wobbling lips and tightly-pressed eyes as he sank even deeper inside you. “Yeah, just like that...”

Sylus always began roughly, seemingly not minding your breathless moans and wishes, and you liked him that way too—

“Is this... all you've got?” you panted in a hoarse voice, sweat lining your neck and forehead, the coil in your belly tightened so deliciously each time he thrusted into you. “Surely... y-you can do better...”

“Ha,” he gave a low snort, his red eyes blazing as he grabbed your bum and squeezed it, making you gasp. “Careful what you wish for... sweetie.”

And then your vision literally tilted upside down—Sylus gladly flipped your position so he could see you even better. This way, he also had even better access to you, intertwining your hand with his, spreading your legs wide so he could rut into you.

“—!” Breath was knocked out of your lungs as immeasurable pleasure washed over you, crashing and receding in an instant. You almost screamed as your back arched.

He broke into a satisfied smirk. “Let it out,” he murmured against your neck, biting gently into your skin, voice muffled. “You never hold back with me, do you, hmm? So, don’t start now.”

“You b-bastard...” you looked up at him with a breathless smile, knowing how close you were to losing your wits.

He simply made your nights worth remember. His allure was undeniable, with a voice that was naturally sultry. And his hands... fuck, they did heaven's work.

It didn't take you long to finally reach your climax, and once you did, your moans were the nastiest all night as you continuously lined his back with scratches.

You could feel how he was chasing his own orgasm all the while, before pulling out right at the last minute and made a mess on your belly, falling beside you.

“Tired?” Sylus’ chest rumbled with laughter as you laid sprawled there in a haze. His eyes narrowed at the sight of your burning cheeks. “I really like this look on your face right now.”

You rolled your eyes, catching your breath and shivered. “I bet you tell that to all other women you manage to lure to your bed.”

“How presumptuous.” He sent you a sour scowl. “I have a high standard— you should consider yourself lucky.”

Well, you do. Holding back a smile, you changed the topic. “I’m cold. Clean me up already.”

“Now, now… what a spoiled little thing you are…” Sylus chuckled, his voice deep and low, yet wrapping his arms around you nonetheless, hoisting you up.

Nights of passion. Mutually beneficial relationship. Nothing more and less.

No strings attached.

This is thrilling. Intimacy without commitment is more than enough to spice your checkered life. After all, what could be better and more rewarding than fucking the hottest man in N109 Zone and getting away with it?

At least, you thought so.

. . .

“Damn, you’re going to make me sore…” you grumbled, letting out a deep sigh as you sank into the sheets after he had cleaned you up, still basking in the afterglow and ready to drift off to sleep. “Ahh...”

Sylus’ lips curved into a wry smile as he watched you make yourself comfortable on his bed, slipping on his black shirt. “Well, I’m just that good, and you did ask for it.”

“Are you going out?” you asked in a small voice, teetering between sleep and wakefulness as you noticed him taking out his favorite gun. “It’s midnight.”

“Luke and Kieran said she has arrived.” Sylus said in low voice, not even sparing you a look. “After all, she has gone through all that trouble to come here, it is only right that I greet her myself.”

The woman. Sylus had told you several times, how a woman with Aether Core and powerful Resonance Evol would eventually come to N109 Zone. And that when the time came, he would make her resonate with him.

A part of you didn’t really know what to feel about this vague plan of his. “Will you bring her here too?”

“I’ll have her stay here until we have reached resonance,” he responded casually while shrugging on his coat.

Sylus valued others depending on their worth. He said it so himself—he isn't a philanthropist. He saw potential in your evol—the Speech Manipulation—which is why he rescued you three years ago, even after you had swung a blade to his throat.

This time must be the same. You played with the edges of your hair. “Well, consider me jealous then. Seems like I’ll have a rival soon.”

Your quip finally caught his attention, as he finally turned to you, one side of his mouth upturned.

“Ha.” Sylus strolled over to where you lay on the bed and placed a hand under your chin, letting out a throaty chuckle. “Is there even anyone brave enough to go against you?”

You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “We shall see about that.”

Little did you know, the coming of this new girl would be the start of the undoing of your mutually beneficial relationship.

You would've expected the woman bearing Aether Core inside her to be way more interesting than that clueless, weak and easily spooked hunter from Linkon City.

But your and Sylus' definitions of interesting clearly differed though, as you caught him smiling after he pulled the most outrageous stunt on himself— having her shoot him right in the heart.

“She is funny,” he said to himself, almost snickering even as you wiped the blood off his toned body. “She was shaking so much the moment I pulled the trigger.”

“Is that your only finding—” you snapped as you wrapped the bandage around his bare chest, fuming. “—after shooting yourself just to mess with her?”

Luke and Kieran told you how he had used his Evol to pull the hunter girl onto his lap, then handed her a gun and made her shoot him. You couldn't believe it at first, until the sight of Sylus staggering to his bedroom, his shirt bloodied and clutching his chest made you almost scream in horror.

“Is that really necessary?” you scowled, tightening the bandage with more force than needed. “Or are you just trying to get her attention?”

Sylus’ sharp gaze settled on you then, seemingly not taking your comment well.

“What’s got you so worked up about this, hmm?” he asked, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he observed your cross expression. “Last I checked, we agreed not to get involved in each other’s personal affairs.”

Personal affairs, he said? Everything you two had done had long past breached all personal boundaries.

But the fact remains that you two are nothing more than—

“Fine.” You tied the bandage abruptly and about to storm off, making no effort to conceal your ire. You couldn’t say you were worried or that you hated seeing blood smeared across him. That was never in the agreement.

Until you felt a hard tug on your arm—

“And where does the angry kitty think she is going, hmm?”

Before you could discern it, your back was pressed against the wall—your left arm pinned beside your head, with Sylus filling your view.

His sculpted abs were right in front of you for the taking, his scent permeated the air, and his unsettling swirls of crimson eyes had you completely captivated.

“Have I ever told you that you look beautiful when you’re angry?” Sylus laughed as he leaned in, gripping your chin with his other hand. “If I didn’t know you were more than capable of slitting my throat in my sleep, I’d want you to look at me like this every day.”

It struck you how your heart raced wildly under his intense gaze. With his perfect face so close, the only sound that seemed to be most prominent was the pounding of your own heartbeat.

“What’s wrong? We’ve been closer than this,” Sylus taunted with a wide grin, his breath warm against your ear as he pressed his body against yours. “What’s making you so nervous?”

If you knew anything about Sylus, it was that he took pleasure in seeing you squirm in his hold. You glared daggers at him. “I hate you.”

“How lovely.”

“You’re infuriating,” you spat, devoid of any amusement.

He barked a satisfied bout of laugh once again, before releasing your chin. However, to your surprise, that very same hand groped your chest roughly—

“Then perhaps...” he hummed, a wicked glint in his red eyes, whispering to you with sultry voice right before he pulled you into him and devour your lips in heat: “You can help to fix me, sweetie.”

His kisses were hot as his tongue and hands made his mark on your body. Pressed against his bare skin, you gripped his strong, broad shoulders as he lifted your legs to his waist.

As always, he managed to dissolve all your lingering thoughts with lust. You just never knew one day you would finally reach the last straw though.

. . .

"Are you going out again tonight?" you muttered, tracing your fingers along his abs as you lay in his arms, still a bit giddy after your passionate session.

"No, I'm sleepy," he replied quickly, his voice low as he pulled you closer and closed his eyes. "Go to sleep already, kitten."

"I can't sleep."

"Poor you. I can though."

You quirked a frown at him. "You're so annoying these days."

"Oh?" Sylus cracked his eyes open, a smirk on his lips. "If you find me so disagreeable, you can always make me obey you, no?"

Your speech manipulation could make people do your bidding and it was a pretty useful talent. Apart from the first day you met Sylus three years ago in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you had never tried using it on him again.

"I won't, you idiot." You sighed and turned away, your back facing him. The idea of bending him to your will somehow didn't sit right with you. It was against your conscience now.

"Why are you facing away? It's freezing," he grumbled almost in a petulant voice. You nearly rolled your eyes, until you felt his strong arms wrap around your middle from behind.

"Why are you hugging me? We’re not usually this touchy after sex."

"I'm telling you, I'm cold, and you're my heat pillow."

"You're so damn insufferable..."

Despite your sharp retort, a smile found its way to your face. Moments like this were rare, and when he was the one seeking you, you couldn't help these butterflies in your stomach. Still...

You two are not in love, dammit. Sometimes it confused you a great deal. What is love anyway?

“Caw, caw, caw!”

“Mephisto, shush.”

Sylus’ robotic pet crow had surprisingly taken a liking to you shortly after you began living in the base. He obeyed your commands just as he did with his owner. The same couldn’t be said for Miss Hunter though, as Mephisto seemed to have a strong dislike for her.

You were idling at the living room with the crow when you realized how close it was to dawn.

“Luke, Kieran,” you called to the twins, who were bickering over a crate of oranges, frowning. “Where did Sylus go?”

Both stopped and looked at you, and Kieran blurted out, “Boss? Oh, he went out with Miss Hunter!”

You supposed you shouldn’t be surprised, but you were nonetheless. “And he still hasn’t come back?”

“Ah, yeah... but I think they just went on a short errand. He’s probably back or already on his way?” Luke mused, and you clicked your tongue.

It irritated you, it gnawed at you—how Sylus had been spending so much time with that hunter these days. He was trying to make her resonate with him, but still, the way you saw it, he was going through his playbook—

Just as he had done when he pursued you.

Calling her “kitten”, “sweetie”... everything he did with her seemed like a replay of the first year you spent in this place.

Deep down, perhaps you had hoped that, in some way, Sylus would see you as you saw him. Love might be out of reach in your bleak existences, but you at least wished he would consider you an irreplaceable presence.

You were petty, and you knew it.

“Mephisto,” you whispered to the cooing crow as it turned to you pliantly. “Go find and bother her, okay? Don’t let her out of your sight,” you added, letting the bird fly away on your command.

Deciding to rest in his room, you left the living room with a sense of exhaustion. You had stayed up for Sylus on a whim, as he had promised to share his plans for the upcoming auction soon. However, sleeping at dawn was giving you frequent headaches, and the habit was wearing on you.

You took a bath and then headed to his bedroom, and you would have never guessed what scene you'd walk into—

Sylus, in his bathrobe, and that girl… nestled against his chest on his bed. The very same bed where you two made out just the other night.

“Y/N?” Sylus looked at you over the girl’s shoulder, and you were frozen on the spot, feeling an indescribable rush of emotions washing over you.

In the next moment, the hunter girl scrambled away from him in panic, her face flushed with shame. “I-it’s not what it looks like! I swear! Sylus— I was just trying to find his brooch and—!”

In that instant, something inside you turned ice-cold. Her frantic explanations—none of it registered to you. The fact that he let her into his bed was enough for you.

You weren’t sure if Sylus noticed, but your eyes darkened, your fists clenched, and a storm raged within your chest.

“Sorry for intruding,” you said frostily, cutting her off and casting a contemptuous glance at both of them before turning on your heel and slamming the door shut.

It was no use, you finally realized. In this twisted relationship you two shared, there could never be anything more than hot sex and flirtations.

Somehow it hurt more deeply than you expected, as though your heart were being scorched. Yet, you couldn’t even find the tears to cry—as you weren't allowed to do so.

Sylus noticed the change in you immediately.

You vanished from the base and returned in the evening, not sparing him even a look and he could tell then that you had come back a different woman.

And it was the part he hated the most. These days, he couldn't read you at all.

"Luke and Kieran, keep an eye on her tonight," he instructed his two underlings as the two of them were getting ready.

"Who? Miss Hunter?" Luke questioned.

"Or boss lady?" Kieran supplied.

Both of them liked you as well. Unlike him, you’d spend your free time indulging their nonsense, and over time, they even gave you that friendly moniker.

They didn't really know the nature of your physical relationship though. Or at least, didn't really know fully.

"The latter," Sylus gruffly replied, and then he went to the hunter girl to prepare her as well.

He had a justified explanation. If you had asked him, he would tell you nothing had happened. Your ire was better than silence, definitely a hundred times better than this.

But why didn't you come to him?

And why does he want you to come and demand him for an explanation?

However, tonight was the auction for the Aether Core. He had to finish this first before he could get a word with you later.

At least that was what Sylus had thought... until he saw you at the auction venue.

You were stunning in that black cocktail dress. He didn’t know when you had your hair done, but you looked as if you had spent the entire day preparing for this occasion despite having barely two hours after coming back. You were definitely a head-turner, drawing the attention of many vermin as you navigated the ballroom with grace and everlasting smile.

And it grated at him. Severely. Sylus's eyes were locked on each lowlife hell-bent on taking his life and desperate to get into your pants, knowing he would end them all tonight.

...and as if it wasn't enough, he then saw you entertaining one of them with that sort of smile you used to reserve for him.

. . .

"Mm-hm, really?"

"Yes, I've heard they are inside the safe number 209."

You coyly smirked, looking the man with mask in front of you, whom you had led to a deserted hallway, who had been complying and smiling at each and every question of yours.

"Thank you then." You flashed him your best smile, about to go back to the main hall.

"And uh, miss," he suddenly turned to you in a flurry. "I believe I haven't gotten your name—"

You chuckled, facing him again. "Oh, you want to know my name?"

"Very much so!"

This was like bread and butter to you. You effortlessly wrapped an arm around the man's neck, standing on your tiptoes, and whispered in his ear:

"Halt."

He went rigid the moment the command left your lips, and you could feel his panic rising as you pulled away.

"W-what happened—!?" he thrashed against the invisible hold manifested by your Evol in pure panic, to no avail, whereas you regarded at him with a cold smile.

"What a shame. I planned to let you be, but then you gave me the perfect opportunity." You maintained your eerie smile as you pulled out a thin, needle-like blade from the hem of your dress. "You have been a great help. Thank you."

With that, you slit his throat, and blood splattered onto the ground in a continuous pool as he jerked, collapsing like a broken statue.

You felt nothing at the sight, but you knew you weren't alone as you felt his presence.

"You started the party without me?" Sylus' deep voice resonated through the hall. "Didn't know you have that much of bloodlust this early, sweetie."

The clench of your heart was still there, even when you had decided to discard all your lingering feelings for this man. Still, you put on the perfect poker face when you met his eyes.

"I want this to be over and done with quick. I'm exhausted already."

Sylus eyed you calmly, yet somehow it felt as if the depths of those red eyes were trying to assess your soul. "Your actions said otherwise. Is flirting with him necessary?"

"You're one to talk, Boss," you scoffed at the last word. "As long as it entertains me, why isn't it?"

Sylus didn't deign you with an answer, and you decided to pour more oil into it.

"Strictly professional, no?" You lifted your chin defiantly. "Last I checked, we were not supposed to meddle in personal affairs—"

You didn't realize it until he did, because the next thing you knew, his right eye suddenly glowed with that terrifying shade of crimson. "You—!"

He has seen it all. In the three years since he took you in, Sylus had never used his Aether Core-infused right eye on you to peek into your mind. The first and only time it had happened was when he restrained you from attacking him on the day you first met.

This was the second time. And now, he knows. Of your petty feelings, of your deepest, truest desire.

At first, Sylus remained silent, but then his eyes narrowed at you, low voice booming through the hall.

"Jealousy is unbecoming on you, Y/N."

And after all that he knew, that was the only thing he could come up with?

You felt shame wash over you. You wanted to run from him. This was too much because he most definitely didn’t reciprocate your feelings, did he?

"I don't want to hear it," you resolved, the space around you felt constricting all of a sudden. You walked past him, about to break into a sprint—

Sylus immediately caught a hold of your arm though, sending a glare at you. "You—"

"It ends here," you blurted in heat. "I don't want it anymore. We're through, Sylus."

"Listen to me!"

He snarled at you, and it was the very first time he did so. However, you paid him no mind and pulled out your ace card, staring hard into his eyes. You could feel the start of his black and red mist, but your Evol was faster—

"Move."

His hold on you loosened, and he jerked back several foot away from the impact. You kept your manipulation on him, avoiding his fury-blazed eyes, bolting away before he could catch you.

. . .

The night escalated so much worse than you had imagined. Explosions and a sudden appearance of an Arbiterwings threw the whole auction into chaos.

You were fighting off the sudden wave of wanderers alone, relying solely on your blade since your voice was too hoarse to use your Evol. When one of them struck you and sent you crashing into a wall, you just sat there in a daze.

It was exhausting. Usually, Sylus would be by your side, covering your back at the very least. He wouldn't let a single scratch get to you. His black and red mist of doom would dominate the battlefield, offering you protection while at it.

You loved that bastard. It was so beyond stupid. Why did you have to ruin everything by having these feelings? If your heart was gone, would these feelings go with it too?

You got your answer sooner than you thought.

White-hot pain engulfed you when something impaled you right in the chest. The searing agony was mind-blinding, the only thing you could discern was your own wails.

No, the feelings didn’t go. Even as you teetered on the brink of death, that damned love only evolved into many regrets.

And in your final moments, you could've sworn you felt the exact moment your heart stopped beating.

"Oh my god! Luke! She is here!"

"Kieran...! Is she alive?!"

"So much blood—! Luke, call Boss! Call Boss here!"

"Boss! We found her!"

"What do we do?! Shit! It's right... in her heart..."

"What!? Boss! S-she is...! Oh lord..."

You had a dream, and it was of your first meeting with Sylus.

Three years ago, in the wasteland of N109 Zone, you were a mere scavenger until he found you. You had thought he was a threat much like others in this lawless city, so you unwittingly showcased your Evol before him in defense, until he pinned you down on the hard ground, crimson eyes holding you in place.

"I'm giving you two options: go with me and live, or die here in vain," he had told you then, a smug smile on his face. "I assure you, so long as you're still useful to me, you won't have to worry about food or roof above your head ever again."

What kind of homeless person would refuse that tempting offer?

Since you followed him, Sylus had never been untrue to his word. He made good of his words, idly engaged you in his circle, showered you with gifts, and at one point—

"You're... trying to tempt me, aren't you?" he growled amidst kisses, pinning you on his desk. Apparently, seeing you up close and personal every day in his home had worn down his patience. He was just a man, after all.

You wickedly giggled, even breathless, cradling both sides of his face and admiring those ruby eyes of his. "What if... I am?"

"Then consider me tempted, little kitten," he chuckled, his baritone voice casting a spell over you. "Remember though, curiosity can kill most cats."

Thus began your thrilling relationship, and you knew you would gladly stay with him just to have a taste of that heaven. And you knew too, he wouldn't cast you easily this way.

And of course, so long as you are useful to him, that is.

When you came to, you felt warm, and your position was so comfortable that you were almost lulled back to sleep.

At first, it didn't register to you where you were. The scene before you was so familiar, but you were so lethargic that you were late to recognize it.

"Awake?"

Sylus' bedroom. The realization dawned on you as that deep, low voice questioned you flatly. You jerked instinctively, looking up at him as he came into view, holding a glass of wine.

He was still the same. Even with you out of commission, he would still indulge himself with his wine. Somehow you couldn't really pinpoint what you should feel about it.

However, Sylus then did the thing you didn't expect him to. He went back to his pantry to get a glass of water, and then he came to your side to prop you up.

"Drink," he commanded, positioning the glass on your chapped lips. You complied and did so, feeling relief for your throat. Once you were finished, he gently laid you back on the bed and tucked you in, never once taking his eyes off you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Have been better," you quipped dryly. Then it dawned on you that he had never been this gentle with you before. He was showing care, which confirmed one theory you had about him: Sylus could be considerate when he chose to be.

The very fact that you ended back here didn't really faze you much, because in the end, you belonged to him out of all people. Just one thing that still didn't make sense in your mind: "What did you do?"

His burgundy eyes squared at you. "What?"

"There’s no way I could've survived that," you mumbled, trying to gauge his reaction. "You must’ve done something."

“Ha, when it comes to these things, you’re sharp,” Sylus said with a light scoff, and you frowned.

"Answer me."

"Aether Core," he supplied. "It was now in you, repairing your coronary system."

"You..." you were rendered speechless. "You—what? You infused my heart with a Protocore...?"

Just like the one in his eye, he had implanted you with that dangerous fragment that was from something as horrific as a Wanderer. The very thought made your breath hitch.

"Stay calm," he commanded, his hand found yours when he noticed your horrified expression, squeezing it as if to provide some sort of reassurance. "You'll be fine."

"H-how... why..."

"That was your only chance, or you would’ve been dead." Sylus' tone was harsher now, his jaw set firmly. "I keep telling you not to rush in carelessly, and yet you did. Did you even know how bad your state was when I found you? No, you didn't."

The way he spoke made you feel as though you were being blamed, and overwhelmed with your frustration, you retorted sharply, "No one asked you to save me."

Awkward silence lingered for a good one minute after your jab. You turned away from him, feeling conflicted, because you knew you should be grateful that he did so, because it meant the Aether Core inside you now was the one he had been looking for in that auction.

He gave it up to save you.

Still, it confused you.

“If I died...” you began, bitterness creeping into your voice. “Then it just means I’m no longer useful to you. You always discard things that no longer serve your purpose.”

You turned back to him, meeting his impassive gaze. “So why? Did you pity me after discovering my feelings? Is that why?”

There are many labels in your relationship. Master and servant. Onychinus leader and his right-hand woman. But you were also his lover, even unsaid. Was that fact that did it? Or a mere charity for the weak, you?

Suddenly, Sylus placed his palm over your chest, right where your heartbeat pulsed. You stiffened, bracing for some sort of impact.

But no, it wasn’t anything sensual like he usually did. His hand—large and warm—was a comforting presence, resting on your chest and feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

"Haven't I told you that I never act out of pity?" Sylus' voice was strained but softer than usual, his deep burgundy eyes holding yours. "Do you really need me to spell it out?"

You didn't dare to look away, for the moment of truth was right in front of you.

"My only regret is not being able to pull you back," he said quietly, his tone somber. "I shouldn't have let you get hurt."

Oh. You blinked, taking in his sincere words, something inside you softening and warming at his words.

You had noticed it too. Despite his roguish exterior, he had always looked after you during your time together. It was just that you hadn’t dared to hope for more.

“The naughty little kitten has managed to worm her way into me, it seems,” he chuckled then, flashing you that cocky smile. “So now, she has to be held responsible for her actions.”

His red gaze narrowed as he added. “Moreover, since I have saved your life— you owe it to me not to throw it away so easily. So you can’t rush into danger carelessly again, you hear?”

Those playful remarks were enough to dispel your doubts and insecurities. They answered everything you had been questioning, and knowing it, finally you let out a relieved sigh and exasperated snort. “You shameless bastard...”

And when he leaned in to place a fleeting, innocent kiss on your forehead, you realized that, in his own way, he saw you just as you saw him, even if only a little.

Sylus settled into the bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you and letting your head rest on his arm. Tonight, there were no passionate kisses, no steamy foreplay, or dirty talks— just you being alive and well in his embrace.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three weeks, woman. Luke and Kieran keep mourning you everyday.”

“Three weeks?! How did you manage without me for that long?”

Sylus glanced at you, a contented smile on his face as he held you close. “It’s been horrid.”

Neither of you would be caught dead saying “I love you”, and yet, regardless, you knew that right this moment meant so much more.

[fangswbenefits]

Backfire

(amazing art by @dopepoisonivyoncrack 🥺🩷 thank you so much!)

Summary: You should have known better than to make Astarion jealous, and now you are left to deal with the consequences.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Jealous/Possessive Astarion. Orgasm denial. Fingering. Edging. PiV. Creampie. Knife (dagger) play. Body worship. Innuendo.

Word count: 3.4k

You vaguely wondered how long it would take to set Astarion off.

He was glancing at you from across the camp, leaning against an oak tree as he twirled a dagger in between his masterful fingers.

The fluid motion broke your concentration for a moment.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and you quickly realised he was aware of your attempts.

Shit.

So much for subtlety.

Maybe you should have picked Wyll to test his jealousy as you reckoned it would have been more effective.

But now it was too late.

You feigned innocence as you patted Gale's arm, mindlessly nodding as he happily explained the intricacies of a chicken broth that he was preparing for later.

“See, the essence of this dish lies in getting the proper ingredients,” he went on, dipping the ladle into the steaming pot and stirring it gently before bringing it to his lips. “Hmm. Definitely lacking something, as I suspected.”

“Really? It smells very pleasant,” you said truthfully as the soft breeze wafted the delectable fragrance your way.

Gale raised one finger. “Mushrooms.”

“What?”

He nodded. “It requires a touch of mushrooms to fully bring out its flavour.”

You patted his shoulder with a warm smile. “I’m sure we can do without it.”

But Gale’s enthusiasm immediately wavered, his brows sinking. “Absolutely not. We require a proper meal and a proper meal is what I shall provide.”

Oh.

He stirred the broth again before rummaging through a satchel at his feet. “Well, I don’t suppose you could fetch me a few?”

Glancing over your shoulder, you found that Astarion had vanished.

Shit.

Your plan shattered into pieces as the object of your teasing was nowhere to be seen.

“Could you?”

Gale’s voice snapped you out of your frustration and you found yourself frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I need some mushrooms, my friend.”

Your frown deepened, but you really had no choice now and a refusal would most likely break his heart.

“Where can I find them?”

Gale beamed with a wide grin. “I spotted a few on the side of the road and near some trees as we were setting up camp. I was foolish enough not to pick them and now I’m burdening you.”

You shrugged with a sigh. “It’s no bother. I was the one who asked you to teach me some of your cooking tricks.

“Ah! You should have trained to become a wizard,” he said with an approving nod. “A hungry stomach and an equally hungry mind.”

As much as you wished to return his enthusiasm, you couldn’t help but to feel annoyed at yourself for the appalling attempt at riling Astarion up.

Maybe he had seen right through it and merely walked off, probably chuckling.

But maybe you had stirred something inside him that ultimately caused him to leave.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

You followed Gale’s instructions, nearing a forest area, shaded from the sun as the canopies of the surrounding trees grew denser and branches intertwined with each other above you.

It didn’t take you long to spot a conglomerate of a few rounded caps by the protruding roots of a large and thick oak tree.

Unsheathing your dagger, you squatted down and began dicing through the spongy stalks.

You were halfway through your task, when you felt the cold press of metal resting on the side of your neck, freezing you in place.

A smile crept across your face.

“I don’t suppose you value your life enough if it’s this easy to sneak up on you.” The blade moved upwards and along your jaw, causing you to turn your head. “Darling.”

You flinched away from Astarion’s grasp and both of you rose to your feet in an instant.

“I doubt any foe would be as delicate as you should they intend to truly harm me.”

He twirled his dagger, offering a devious smile. “Point taken.”

As expected, praising him always did wonders. 

And it was absolutely true and equally expected that a skilled rogue could move in the shadows with unmatched prowess. 

But then, the mood shifted as he deepened his smile. “What were you doing back there with Gale?”

Oh?

You cleared your throat, sheathing your blade once again at your hip. “I was merely observing his cooking skills.”

He took a step in your direction.

“Were you, now?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed. “You’re not as subtle as you think you are, darling.”

You allowed yourself to move back with each step he took. “And you’re not as perceptive as you think you are.”

“You weren’t trying to deliberately make me jealous, were you?”

You shook your head, feeling your heart drumming hastily in your chest.

Astarion’s feet only came to a brief halt once your back hit the rough surface of the tree trunk behind you, effectively rendering you immobile.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

A shameless lie that he immediately tackled. “A lousy liar who’s even worse at vexing me,” he tutted before pressing one knee right in between your legs. “I taught you better than this.”

The air in your lungs stilled momentarily as his arms were now on either side of your head, caging you. 

“Gale was the one offering his teachings.”

He dropped one hand below your chin, tapping it teasingly with the side of his blade and tilting your head back. “Please. I highly doubt that dullard could offer anything of value where it really counts.”

“Astarion…” you drawled in delight. “Are you actually jealous?”

His brows furrowed together. “Obviously not.”

Inside, you were thoroughly enjoying how your fleeting attempt had indeed been successful, despite Astarion’s denial.

You could see it in his narrowed crimson eyes and how the faintest of scowls deepened the lines on his handsome face.

That stroked your ego in a way that almost made you shudder.

You tried to ignore how he was now pressing his knee harder.

His lips almost brushed against your and, for a split second, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he tipped his head to the side and you felt his cold touch on your cheek.

A shiver ran down your spine and you gripped his arms.

“What are you doing?”

He chuckled. “Showing you what really counts.”

“And what is that?” you asked, words coming out shaky.

Astarion adored taunting you with words, but he excelled at rendering you speechless with his skilled touch. 

So it came as no surprise when eventually sheathed his blade and had his hand tug your shirt free from the waistband of your trousers, sliding his hand underneath.

This was bad for you.

Terrible, in fact.

He had the upper hand.

And he fucking knew it.

His fingers brushed along your lower abdomen and his voice was raspy in your ear. “If I slide my hand inside… what will I find?”

Your body was too used to him by now to the point that he could have you throbbing for him with little effort.

The knee dropped and you almost whined at the loss of friction against your swelling clit.

“Answer me,” he said, tugging at the waistband.

You swallowed. “Nothing much…”

Was there even a point in deceiving him now? 

Expert fingers tugged at the lacings, loosening the fabric just enough for him to be able to slip underneath, his fingertips gently gliding in between your folds, avoiding your clit altogether. 

But you were wet enough to draw a pleased grunt from him.“What is this, then?”

You gasped, involuntarily clenching around nothing and feeling a gush of wetness spilling as your body reacted in anticipation.

“Use your fingers properly and find out.”

Your taunt didn’t go amiss. “Maybe an apology is in order,” he said, arrogance dripping from each word. “It seems that your foolish attempt at making me jealous has backfired.”

Much to your frustration, your hips rolled into his touch, silently wishing he would stop avoiding your swell.

“How has it backfired?” you managed to say as one finger teased your entrance.

He ignored your question and began trailing kisses along your jawline, his other hand working hurriedly at the front of your shirt.

Of course.

You knew all too well that you’d feel his cock hard enough if he was already this eager to expose your breasts.

One by one, he undid each lacing, and he pulled back just enough for his gaze to drop as the fabric parted and he gently pulled down the binding that held your chest in place.

Your nipples quickly hardened and you rolled your hips once more, causing one of his fingers to slide inside.

He hadn’t intended for that to happen, but he was so transfixed with your breasts that he was caught off guard.

It was the vicious clenches around his finger that snapped him out of it and his lustful eyes met yours. “Give me one reason not to slide out of you.”

You smiled in between gasps as he sank deep inside. “Should I ask Gale what he’d do in your position, then?”

And just like that, Astarion snapped.

A second finger slithered past your tightness and he brought his lips to your ear. “Careful, darling. Choose your words wisely or you’ll be riding your own mage hand instead.”

Oh, this was delicious.

Astarion was visibly annoyed and it did wonders to your confidence. 

It wasn’t easy to get him all worked up, but it only fueled your ego and made you quicken the pace.

Your whimpers increased in intensity and you looped your arms around his neck for added support, lifting one leg to wrap around his waist. The new angle allowed him to go knuckle-deep and you shuddered as his strained erection pressed against his hand nudged him even deeper.

He groaned first, clearly enjoying the newfound friction, and you clenched hard at how his face twisted in pleasure.

“Look over my shoulder,” he suddenly said, his half-hooded eyes finding yours.

Somehow, and in between each roll of your hips, you complied, realising just how close to camp you truly were. Close enough to make out the silhouette of Shadowheart who was now at Gale’s side as he worked on his broth, probably wondering what was taking you so long to bring him some mushrooms.

“What about it?” you asked, a bit louder than intended when he sank all the way in once more.

His lips brushed against yours this time, dragging his fingers back as you clenched desperately around him. “You either keep it down or we’ll have an audience soon enough.”

“Would you mind?”

He stilled abruptly. 

“What? Having Gale hear you coming undone for me?” he taunted as you tried to have him back inside, your hips following his retreating hand. “That he would soon realise he could never provide such bliss to his lover?”

You whined in responde, frustrated that you were now faced with an agonising emptiness.

“See, darling,” he continued, sliding one finger back inside, but not quite deep enough to fully satisfy you. “I can be quite generous when I want to.”

“But what?” you groaned, trying to have him sink deeper to no avail.

There was always a ‘but’.

He placed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back. “But I am not willing to share your cries of pleasure with anyone else.”

“Then silence me.”

The most devious grin settled on his face and you knew you had just offered a challenge he would gladly take.

And with his other hand, you watched as he brought the handle of his dagger close to your lips.

“Open.”

Your eyes widened and your heart immediately skipped a beat. “Astarion…”

“As much as I’d love to have your lips wrapped around my cock,” he said with a click of his tongue, parting your lips for him. “I am more interested in finding out how quiet my dagger can make you.”

You clenched around him so fiercely he actually growled.

Your teeth sank into the handle and you readied yourself for what was to come.

Astarion trailed your lower lip affectionately as it wrapped around the leather wrappings and a second finger joined the first, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit as he pumped in and out, never breaking eye contact with you.

The moans and whimpers and gasps that slipped from you were being effectively muffled and you were thankful he had decided to silence you this way, because when the third finger nudged at your entrance, you could only roll your eyes shut as your bit hard around his dagger.

“Surely you can take one more,” he teased, his voice low.

You eagerly nodded, rolling your hips into him, knowing you were more than ready for the added thickness.

It slid inside painfully slowly and the stretch had you gasping and nearly dropping his dagger, which he promptly secured in place.

“Now, I know it’s not as thick as my cock, but I am sure you can keep those pretty lips wrapped around it,” he taunted.

You groaned with a nod eager to please.

Eager to come undone for him.

The combination of being so full of him and how he allowed you to rub your clit on his palm was too much. The lewd sounds were almost too obscene and you gripped both hands together, holding onto the remainder of the sanity you had left.

For a brief moment, he allowed you to ride three of his fingers, giving you the illusion that you’d reach your peak easily and rather quickly.

But Astarion wasn’t forgiving even if he had been rather generous thus far. 

And you should have known that your actions would have consequences.

His generosity came to an abrupt halt just as you felt the familiar coil down below becoming more and more overwhelming, your body quickly reaching the point of no return.

Your gasps were now becoming more erratic and you were visibly struggling to keep a hold of the dagger in your mouth.

And then you felt a painful emptiness as he pulled out from you at once.

He chuckled when you groaned in sheer frustration, not allowing you to spit the dagger out and curse him to the Nine Hells.

You felt the urge to cry as he denied you from reaching your high, your hips still moving on their own accord in the hopes of finding his fingers again.

“Now, now,” he tutted, caressing your flushed cheek with his thumb, a single tear streaming down your face. “You didn’t think I would be that generous, did you?” 

Fuck you!

Your words came out muffled, but he understood enough to continue his taunt. “I know you want to, but not before I have some assurances first.”

Impatience took over you, but you managed to arch an inquisitive brow at him.

He pressed his lips where his thumb had been, kissing your tear away. “Tell me no one can make you feel like this.”

Your eyes widened once more as he pulled the dagger from your teetering teeth.

“I’m all pointy ears, love,” he urged, meeting your eyes. “Go on.”

Astarion adored being praised, but this was just cruel.

Your teasing hadn’t been solid enough to warrant such punishment. You had been so close to your peak… 

“Astarion…”

He shook his head with a frown. “No, no, no. You do not get ‘cuddly and sweet Astarion’ after what you’ve pulled, sweetheart.”

Your hands came to grip his shoulders almost pleadingly, but you knew you had no other choice if you were to reach your climax anytime soon.

“No one can… no one…” you whispered, your voice cracking.

But he wasn’t satisfied.

Of course he wasn’t.

It took more than that to fill his ego.

“I’ve ruined you for anyone else,” he said with an intense smile. “You know that, don’t you?”

You immediately nodded, fully agreeing and not out of despair.

“Can you be good for me, then?”

Another nod as you tried to nudge him closer with the leg wrapped around his waist just to prove your point.

“Your pleasure is mine,” he said, bringing the handle of his dagger back to your lips and, this time, you quickly wrapped them around it. “My pleasure is yours.”

He removed his hand from inside your trousers and he pushed your leg down so he could tug them down your legs to give him better access.

Once you had slipped out of them, he eagerly wrapped you around his waist as he tugged at the front of his own trousers, until he freed his cock.

You gave it a quick glance, pleased to find the tip glistening with precum.

“Bite down hard, darling,” he warned, aligning you with him. “I know you adore how my cock stretches you.”

You did as you were told and he sank into you in one swift thrust of his hips.

He was all the way in and your back arched as he steadied you with both hands.

The first clenches around his cock made him mumble a string of curses as he tried to adjust to your tightness.

It didn’t take long for him to set the pace, slowly fucking you against the oak tree.

You weren’t going to last long from this new angle, and neither was he. It would be rather easy to get him to lose all control if you lost yours first. Astarion was rarely able to withstand your contractions as you rode out your climax.

His eyes were locked on yours, but something caught your attention.

Suddenly, your hazy eyes managed to focus on the camp nearby and you watched as someone seemed to be approaching in the distance.

Oh… fuck…

Was it Gale?

No.

It was Wyll.

You clenched around him almost panicking, until you realised he wasn’t coming any closer and had simply taken a turn down the hill, waving at Gale.

Your mind was too overtaken by how his cock felt inside you to care about the context of that exchange. 

Having Astarion being so eager to prove you that no one else could fuck you this way, had you undulating your body against his, always making sure he could bure himself fully inside you with each thrust.

Oh.

You were too close.

“Eyes on me,” he hissed, punctuating each word with a snap of his hips.

Dangerously close.

Especially when you met his crimson eyes again.

And you almost topped over the edge at once when you saw him doing something you had never witnessed before.

He finally broke eye contact and his gaze was once again on your breasts and hardened nipples.

And then…

With his free hand, he pulled his own shirt up the length of his body, securing the hem in between his own teeth, fangs digging into the fabric.

What…

He wrapped his arm around your torso and pulled you into him, your breasts pressed against him. The sight was breathtaking as you felt your nipples rub briefly against his, earning a guttural groan from him.

Astarion allowed you to sink all the way down his cock and you could no longer hold back the intense wave of pleasure that came crashing down as you felt his balls pressed against you.

You were biting down so fiercely on the handle of his dagger, you feared youd snap it in half as your first contractions tore through your body.

He pressed your back hard against the tree, and with a final grunt into the crook of your neck, he began spilling inside you, allowing you to squeeze his cum with each of your rhythmic clenches.

You clawed at the back of his shirt, feeling your mind blank as you came down from the overwhelming height of your pleasure mixed with his.

It was hard to steady your breaths and you weren’t sure you had ever come this hard in your life, but it felt like a shared sentiment as Astarion remained buried inside you even when his cum began to spill and drip.

The dagger fell to the ground and you gasped for air, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to the side of his head through his messy curls.

“Gods…” he eventually groaned, showing no intention of pulling out. 

You grunted in agreement, caressing his damp hair.

“Should I tease you again?” you almost chuckled in between heated pants. “Wyll next?”

He pulled back and shot you a murderous glare. “Don’t you dare…”

Masterlist

[theminecraftbee]

Grian had taken her aside quietly. He'd awkwardly talked around the idea of her remembering now; apparently, he didn't know if her victory counted. She'd rubbed the back of her head and hadn't quite realized what he was talking about and said something about the games and, ah. Apparently she does remember now. Apparently the victory counts. Apparently this means he needs to say sorry.

Cleo considers not accepting the apology. Grian would get the wrong idea then. If she said: you don't need to apologize for shit, or maybe, there's nothing to apologize for, he'd take that as: you are exactly as bad as you're convinced you are. Honestly, Cleo's not sure whether that means Grian would decide he'd done nothing wrong or everything, but that's besides the point.

She'd never not remembered, is the point.

Frankly, Cleo hadn't realized people were meant to be not remembering. She's honestly a bit embarrassed not to have figured it out. Surely that can't be right. Cleo has held every single slight and every single ally and every single person she has ever connected to right in her ribcage, next to where her carved-out, unbeating, torn-up heart lies, the entire time these games have gone on. Each game, a new fact carved into the bone that makes them up.

Names ribbon around her memories. Bdubs and the Crastle and Scott and soulmates and Pearl and friend-turned-foe and Etho and survivor and Bigb and traitor and Scar and son and everything else. She wouldn't be the same at all if she didn't remember. Everything she is, it's built on top of everyone that was.

Maybe it's a zombie thing. The undead are said to be memories that can't fade as much as anything else, after all.

But she can't really explain this to Grian, of course. If nothing else, that would require explaining the place he's taken next to her heart, too, and frankly, that's way too mushy for the both of them. What ends up coming out her mouth is: "Oh. Does that really change anything?"

Grian stares at her a moment.

"You know, I guess not?" he says.

"Right then," Cleo says. "Cool. Good to know my victory means nothing then."

Grian squawks. "You can't just say it like that! That's depressing!"

Good enough.

She buries 'not-supposed-to-remember' 'not-sure-if-it-counts' 'laughing-as-scott-dies' and 'I-have-always remembered' in the same place in her ribcage, so she won't forget it, and then she does the thing that sets her apart from the common zombie:

She moves on.

[cherubfae]

dunmeshi + crushing on a strong beast-like reader!

ft. laios, marcille, chilchuck, namari, mickbell, & kabru

tags: sfw, bit of blood/gore, alcohol consumption, gender neutral/ implied afab reader (use of they/them), reader wraps their chest!, reader is implied to be a canine-like beast but left ambiguous (wolf, fox, coyote, etc) lovedrunk and flustered babies, pre-established relationship, reader can be interpreted as a beast-man, magically altered being, were-beast, etc!!, they can turn into an actual beast

a/n: I flustered myself writing this lmao, clearly i do not have favorites whaaaa-- haha! it's good to be back. I hope all of you are well and you enjoy this fic!! kabru's got unintentionally longggg <3 -- noah

Laios

Holy crow!! You are so, so, amazing!! This man will watch in awe as you easily strike down your enemy with a single downstroke of your blade. It glides through the monster like butter, a gust of wind from the blow kicking up dirt and debris.

You scoff, nose twitching in disgust as you shake off the bits of blood and gore that cling to the sharp steel. Your eyes drift upwards, ears perking up at Laios's interest. Eyebrow lifting into your hairline in question.

"O-oh, ah, good job!" Laios sputters, a rosy hue coating his cheeks. Lips tilting into a slight smirk you nod in response. You give him a thumbs up, winking your eye playfully at the blonde.

"Happy to help! By the way, why're you all red?"

Laios gulped, "Ju-just kind of warm in here, y'know? M'okay." He tugs at the collar beneath his chest armor for effect, his golden gaze looking anywhere but down at you and your pretty smile. He absolutely doesn't want to fixate how the points of your fangs jut out ever so slightly from beneath your upper lip, and how much he would very much like to touch them.

Marcille

She's no better than a man, she's no better than a man, she's no better than a man--

Marcille, despite the shame that digs deep into her gut, cannot tear her eyes away from you as you wash away the soot and ash covering your arms. Your shirt had been torn by the blast of one her explosive spells, leaving your arms and a bit of your bare torso exposed.

Tracing the path your veins map out, Marcille swallows thickly. Your arms were defined with muscle, not too bulky. You had clearly worked hard to get where you are. A much more experienced and capable dungeon explorer.

"You alright, Marcy?" Your voice floats to her ears, making them twitch. Suddenly bursting into a panic, Marcille blubbers out a screech.

Floundering, she squeaks, "Ah! Yes!! I'm so sorry-- your shirt!! I can fix it!" She grasps her staff, crowding herself in front of you. You wave her off gently, patting her shoulder.

You grin, fangs poking out. "Nah, s'alright. Got another one in my pack." You turn your back to her, peeling off the remains of your shirt, adjusting the wraps around your chest and back before kneeling down to rummage in your rucksack for a new tunic. Marcille damn near passes out.

Chilchuck

Normally he hates being shoved out of the way and pushed around like he's some kid, but with the absolute onslaught you bring during fighting, he's glad to have you looking out for him!

You are so many things: strong, swift, quick on your feet, and can be incredibly brutal when you need to be. You aren't just a threat to an enemy you face, you are a promise. You see to it that any foe will not harm your party.

Chilchuck himself isn't immune to the way you seem to get a bit more feral when he is threatened."He-ey!! What are you--!" He can't stop the way his heart leaps into his throat. His surprised gasp cut short when you scoop him up into your arms, dodging a long bow arrow barreling towards him.

With ears ringing at the deep, low snarl rumbling in the back of your throat, Chil blinks owlishly. He follows your gaze to see living armor being taken down by Izutsumi. Sighing in relief, the halfling relaxes in your embrace. He is incredibly lucky to have you looking out for him! Glancing up at you, his face explodes into a red glow upon seeing your tender gaze already transfixed on him.

Yeah, you might end up being the death of him.

Namari

A person after her own heart!! She revels in the rush of adrenaline that courses through her veins when she takes down an enemy, but you're even a step further than her!

Not only are you strong but you are an amazing asset to the team! You're incredibly versatile with weapons: axes, swords, lances, daggers, bows-- you name it! But what's really killer about you are your claws and teeth! How you can turn into an actual beast when angered enough, determined to fight for those you love. Namari has never met someone quite as unique as yourself. She just wished you weren't in Laios's party, but in hers.

You are immaculate, Namari thinks. She can't help but stare at you from across the bar, watching with an immense yearning as you laugh heartily with Laios and Marcille throwing your pints of ale up in a toast.

"Why don't you go talk to them? O-oh shit, here they come!" Chilchuck slurs from behind his own pint, cheeks flushed pink from the alcohol. Namari sighs, too buried in her own thoughts to register her friend's words. Setting down her cup fingers sliding along the lip of the glass. She clumsily reaches over for the pitcher, gasping as it nearly tumbles off the edge of the table. You catch it with ease, smiling with that same kind smile she loved.

Pulling up a stool, you settle down besides the two on the opposite end. Smiling, you refill your friend's drinks before filling up your own tumbler once more. Chilchuck downs his drink in one go, hiccupping softly. Folding his arms in front of him, he rests his head atop them for a quick snooze.

Snickering, your gaze turns to Namari, who suddenly feels like she's sobering up at a rapid pace. You're absolutely beautiful in the orange glow and warmth of the tavern. Drowning out the sound of the drunkards, she can barely focus on the words you're saying, her eyes going cross-eyed as she tries to read your lips.

"Let's get you home, Namari. I think you need some sleep." You gently muse, standing from your stool. Waving over your shoulder at Laios, you help Namari up, leaning her against your body. Marcille lifts Chilchuck up onto her back like a rucksack, despite his protests he ultimately relented. (They totally bickered like a teen daughter and her middle-aged father about wanting to stay five more minutes)

The night air was cool against your flushed skin. Namari shudders, tucking her chin and nose beneath the wool collar of her shirt, pressing herself closer to you and your warmth. Her hand slides carefully into yours, wobbly smiling when you lightly squeeze her hand. Even in her drunken stupor, she can't fight the awe of how easily you sway her stubborn heart.

Mickbell

If Kuro isn't the first to rush to Mickbell's aid, it's you instead. The more you help rescue him, the more he will start to rely on you, so don't you slack off!!

Mick gets an absolute kick out of watching you blast any sort of enemy away with your strength and he'd never admit out loud how much he enjoys the view, especially if you're defending him.<3 it makes him feel all giddy when you swoop in and save him.

Today was no different than before. A morgue of ghosts swarm the immediate area, dropping the temperature down a few levels. Accompanying the specters, is a lone basilisk. It's dual heads watching Mickbell like a lion on a hunt. Warm puffs of breath cling to the air as Kabru readies his sword, Holm making his way to the opposite end of the basilisk, a jar of holy water in his hands.

The basilisk lets out an ungodly shriek and surges forward. Knocking Mickbell back, you press your body over his, effectively becoming a shield over him. You're snarling, teeth exposed with intent to bite. Mick curls his hands against your tunic, eyes squeezing tight and prepares for impact.

"Now Holm!" Kabru slices downwards as Holm slices upwards, decapitating both heads. Mumuring a silent spell, Holm swirls the jar of holy water around like a lasso, shooing away the ghosts.

Gently prying Mick's hands from your shirt, you place a warm palm to his chilled cheek. His downcast green eyes open immediately, and he throws himself into your embrace, winding his arms around your neck. "Gaaah!! That was so scary!!" Over your shoulder, you miss how Mickbell gives Kuro a cheeky grin and a thumbs up.

Kabru

He has met all sorts of travelers and merchants and dungeon experts. While Laios is one that perplexes him, Kabru's curiosity in you reaches a certain level of fondness he isn't quite equipped to deal with. He knows he will be able to rely on you in the heat of battle at any given time. Your strength is plentiful, but even you have your limits.

"Does it still hurt?" Kabru softly asked. He sits beside you on the stone floor, shuddering at the slight chill that seeps in through his clothing. You lift your gaze to him, blinking slow. Kabru notes how your pupils dilate ever so slightly when you face him, something he feels hopeful for. You return your attention to the wound on your leg neatly wrapped in bandages-- a direwolf bite.

Giving a noncommittal shrug, you finish your handiwork, setting the bloodied old bandages ablaze. "I've had worse. If the wolf had broken my bones, that'd be another story. I don't want Rinsha wasting her mana on me. I can keep up just fine, I won't slow us down."

Kabru takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger softly, forcing you to look at him. "I didn't ask if you could keep up, I asked if it still hurt. You got hurt because you saved me from that direwolf, I've failed you." There's a tenderness in his azure stare.

"It hurts a bit," you whisper, unable to glance away. "You never fail me, Kabru." You smile. Kabru looses a small breath.

"I won't let that happen again. You have my word." For a moment, the world stills and the two of you find yourself leaning in. You can feel his warm breath on your lips, hyperaware of his large palm sliding down your arm to rest on your waist. Your hands slid to the front of his tunic, curling your knuckles into the fabric. He gasps softly when you tug him to you, lips almost touching when--

"HEY KABRU!" The shrill voice of Mickbell jerks the two of you apart. You gasp sharply as your leg knocks into the adjacent stone wall. Kabru is instantly at your side fretting over you.

Mickbell stares you two down from the doorway at opposite end of the room, mouth drawn into a confused expression. "Uhh, hey. Just wanted to know what's for dinner. You two good? Why do you look so red?" He shrugs his shoulders half a second later, deciding he really didn't care to know the answer. Wiggling himself between the two of you, Mickbell sighs and folds his arms back behind his head with closed eyes; completely oblivious to the shared flustered looks you and Kabru are sending one another.

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

[icaruspendragon]

hiii, this might be weird, but who is Lazarus? I'm not religious, so I've tried searching for who he is, but I can't seem to get a clear answer and was wondering if you could explain him?

ah yes, lazarus of bethany. a man i consider to be equal parts friend and foe.

lazarus lived in bethany with his two sisters, mary and martha. and when we meet him, he’s sick. so much so that his sisters send for jesus of nazareth saying, “lord, your dear friend is very sick.”

jesus of nazareth was in jerusalem when he received the message. and despite being only a few miles from bethany, and despite jesus loving martha and mary and lazarus, he waited. he didn’t go to them straight away. he waited. he waited until lazarus died and then said, “lazarus’ sickness will not end in death. no, it happened for the glory of god so that the son of god will receive glory from this.”  

and when jesus finally made it to bethany he was told lazarus had already died. that he has already been in the grave for four days. and when martha, sister of lazarus got word that jesus was coming, she went to meet him. and mary, sister of lazarus did not. and when martha saw jesus she said to him, “lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

and jesus said to her, “your brother will rise again.”

but then mary arrived and she saw jesus and she fell at his feet and she said, “lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.” and she wept over her brother. because she loved him and he was gone. and jesus should have been there. because if jesus had been there, her brother would not have died.

and jesus saw her weeping. and he saw the other people wailing with her. because lazarus was deeply loved. and now he was gone. and they had sent for jesus. they had prayed for a miracle. and that miracle didn’t come until it was four days too late. and they didn’t know that jesus was going to bring lazarus back. they didn’t know that jesus had waited that long to teach a lesson. to prove a point. they just knew jesus was too late. and now they were forced to grieve.

and then a deep anger welled up in jesus. and he was deeply troubled. and jesus asks, “where have you put him?” and the people say, “lord, come and see.” and he does. and when he sees, jesus weeps. when he sees, we get the shortest verse in the bible. a mere two words to sum up an entire town’s grief. two words to convey the loss of a sibling. two words are offered for the preventable death of a loved man.

jesus is four days too late. and jesus?

jesus wept.

and the people who loved lazarus turned to him and said to jesus, “see how much he loved him!”

jesus loved lazarus. and then he let him die.

and some of the people said about jesus “this man healed a blind man. couldn’t he have kept lazarus from dying?”

and then jesus, who knew all along that he would revive lazarus. jesus, who let all those people mourn. jesus, who let those sisters lose their brother. jesus, who let them weep. jesus, who wept with them. that very same jesus said to those who loved lazarus, who mourned him, jesus of nazareth said to them, “didn’t i tell you that you would see god’s glory if you believe?”

and then the stone of lazarus’ tomb was rolled aside. and then jesus looked up to heaven and said, “father, thank you for hearing me. you always hear me, but i said it out loud for the sake of all these people standing here, so that they will believe you sent me.” and then jesus shouted, “lazarus, come out!” and he did.

lazarus the dead man came out, his hands and feet and face wrapped still in burial cloth. and then jesus of nazareth told them, “unwrap him and let him go!”

and then lazarus of bethany became lazarus of the grave. lazarus of the grave that will never be left behind even though he has risen and relinquished. lazarus of the grave who did not make good his escape unscathed. lazarus of the grave who will now check each darkened doorway as death and his sting is keenly felt.

lazarus was a man. a man whose family loved him. a man whose sisters sent for a miracle. a man whose sisters mourned him in the four days it took for that miracle to show up. a man who was made an example for no reason other than being loved by jesus. a thing that we are all told to be. loved by our savior.

lazarus is a man who makes me wonder three things. firstly, if jesus had been there that my brother may not have died. secondly, if jesus of nazareth too weeps for me. and thirdly, if jesus loves us and we in turn love him too like the scriptures command, why does he use us in the lessons he teaches.

why must we be the men he makes believers of?

so lazarus was just a man whose crime was loving jesus. and martha was just a girl whose crime was loving her brother. and they both suffered a miracle because of it.

[lokisgoodgirl]

An Offering [Asgard! Loki x Fem.Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's lack of carnal exploits have caused chaos in Asgard- and something must be done. (w/c 2.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki POV. Smut. Language. Ridiculous lore.

Loki’s eyes scanned the lines on the page, uncrossing his ankles before immediately crossing them again.

He was restless. His manhood twitched as he re-read words he had missed in one endless, sprawling sentence. An annal of the wars of Muselpheim. It was the least erotic tome in his personal collection. These days, it didn’t take much.

He cast a glance out the window, wondering what carnage his unspent power was causing at the present time. Had a ghostly tidal wave risen and washed out the harbour town? A curse which made food taste like ash? An unfamiliar steed trotting through the mountain villages with an insatiable appetite for the bemused inhabitants worldly goods?

Loki didn’t know. All he knew was that he didn’t want to see anyone.

It was humiliating. His mother’s voice filled his ears against his will, the memory making his ears burn. You must copulate with someone Loki. Anyone; she had said calmly, her cheeks faintly pink. Chaos is building within you, if it is not released...naturally – then your seidr will find a way to expel itself in other ways,’

Loki shook his head, the familiar clench of embarrassment twisting in his stomach. A belch of smoke began twisting skyward in the distance from the market. It was green. He sighed, shutting the book on his lap and placing it to the side of the window-seat. If he concentrated, he could feel magic leaking from his pores like sweat. It bubbled through the air around him, the faint scent of tart spiced lemongrass following him around. Taunting him. Chaos.

And it would only get worse. “What am I to do with you?” he mumbled, staring down at his crotch. It stirred in response.

“Ah, yes, but you see, we want the same thing-” he crooned, as if to a friend. Or indeed, a foe. “The way they talk they would have me thrust you upon any diseased cretin from the alleys by the square.” He looked out the arch, the heavy emerald smog beginning to settle over half of Asgard. “But we are better than that,” he muttered.

A low chorus of coughing had begun to rise and echo around the high towers of the citadel. Loki grimaced. “I do hope it’s not poisonous,” he mumbled to himself.

There was a knock at the door. “Gods…” Loki sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall in frustration. Will they not let me alone.

It had become abundantly clear months ago that taking care of his sexual gratification by hand was not sufficient to quell the tide of magical energy coursing through his veins. Flesh, was what was required. A second heartbeat. An offering of the basest kind.

The instances of chaotic overspill had started small – batches of grain turning to sand, mirrors losing their reflection in the palace; but as the need for release grew, so did his frustration.

There was a reason that his familiar bedfellows had fallen out of favour. He caused too much angst. Too much heartbreak, that much was clear. They were satisfied for a time, but tormented in their limbo for his affection. Or his title. But they could never be her. He could see it in their eyes, the realisation when they felt him leave their cooling beds. It was not their fault.

He could not have her. She did not know or care of his existence, not really. Not outside of his garishly rouged face on a mural. Loki was not interested in breaking hearts. Not anymore. Especially his own. And as time when on, and the leakages grew in strength – people were afraid. There was that, too.

The knock came again. With an exasperated exhale, Loki rose. He crossed the room, smoothing his palms down the front of his tunic. Hooking one thumb in the low slung belt around his hips, he tried his best to look menacing as he opened the door. “What do you-”

The frown of annoyance melted to confusion as he ran his gaze over the waiting form in stunned silence. A woman, her face dipped in a light curtsey. Soft tendrils of hair fell around her collarbone like a nymph. “Your highness.” she spoke, keeping her head down. Loki tilted his head. How curious, he pondered as he reached out and gently tipped the woman’s chin up. His breath hitched at the unexpected sultry darkness of her eyes. Familiar. Impossible. “What are you doing here?” he murmured warily, casting a glance around the otherwise empty corridor. “Don’t you know it is dangerous to-” “May I come in, your highness?” she said softly. Loki frowned at the audacity of her interruption. But there was no hint of fear in her lilt, which he respected – and so the god found himself stepping aside.

The hem of her gown rustled on the stone floor, sweeping in a grand circle as she turned to face him. It was cream, the fastening at her bosom which ran down the centre of its length trimmed in the same dark green as the thick smoke currently blocking out the sun. Loki shivered.

“It has been decided that I am to be an offering,” she said haughtily. Her chin was held high, a beacon of poise and cold elegance. Norns, how Loki wanted to ruin her.

But he wouldn't. He shouldn't. Not her.

He stared back in slack-jawed disbelief, before bursting into laughter. He could feel his stomach clench, the peals of mirth taking a greater hold than the situation deserved. But it had been a while since Loki had laughed, among other things.

“My a-a-apologies,” he gasped, extending a hand to pat down her tangible offence. The lady’s arms had folded, a waft of malice washing over the god like a current. He collected himself, smoothing his hair as she looked on. “It’s not you, you are…” he looked the woman up and down, “lovely. Truly. I just...did not expect my family to stoop so low as to enact a farce such as this.”

The woman began to pace in a wide circle, her finger inspecting the wide wooden curve of his bed-frame. She paused, her chin tilting towards him with a wicked glint in her eye.

“It was my idea, actually” she said, beginning to smile as Loki shuffled where he stood. “Your brother took some convincing, but I think that is only since he had eyes for me himself.”

Loki could not find the words. “The armoury cache has turned to salt, you know” she chirped, smiling while she continued an achingly slow tour of his chambers. Loki groaned inwardly as she peered at the books on the nearest shelf, ghosting a fingertip over the spines.

“You have no idea how difficult it is to get a Prince’s attention,” she hummed. “Especially when he locks himself away and denies the ladies of the court an opportunity to flaunt themselves. Desperate action must be taken,” she purred playfully, the fragrant twinge of stinging sarcasm inflaming Loki’s arousal. Was she jesting? A cruel, elaborate trick? Loki decided he must be dreaming.

He cleared his throat, painfully aware of his cock hardening beneath his trousers. Of all days, why had he chosen the satin?

“You are here of your own free will, then?” he managed to say. She nodded, a closed lipped smile pressing against her cheeks. His eyes were drawn to the heave of her cleavage, rising and falling in anticipation before they rose back to her face. Her lips.

"It is a grave offence to lie to a god of Asgard, my lady" he warned, painfully aware of the slowing breaths making his voice thick. He could feel his tongue move, yet the words seemed to belong to another.

“They say it could be dangerous,” she said matter-of-factly, ignoring his ominous overtones. “-Fucking you, I mean.” Loki stared. He was fully hard now, the urge to free himself and have the woman against the nearest bookcase almost overwhelming. She raised her eyebrows, a mischievous smirk curling at the edge of her mouth. “Personally, I think it’s all rather exciting. Don’t you?” “You’re mad,” Loki mumbled, realising with surprise that he was already halfway across the floor. The woman let out a low tinkling laugh, resting an elbow on the shelf. “You’re one to-” Loki’s lips collided with the siren, crashing against her mouth like a tempest. She parted for him, wild hands twisting in his hair as he pressed her against the wood. Her moans of excitement, her breathy pants into his mouth as he caged her. Loki was undone.

His tongue wrestled hers, hands exploring the curves of her body that bucked against his touch. Meaningless words gasped from his lips as her palm slid harshly against his cock, mastering the slide and squeeze along its length.

“Bold, my Prince-” she teased, as his throat worked in grunts and swallows beneath her touch.

“I take nothing which was not already offered, my lady” he keened, thrusting against her hand. Their lips met again, deep curls of muscle enveloping the other in wet need. “And not all which is offered, either” he groaned against her ear. “Not yet.” The woman chuckled, sliding her hands up the velvet of his tunic. She pushed him lightly, making him stumble back like a feather. The backs of his knees hit the bed, falling and landing on the pristine sheets with a bounce.

“Take it then,” she uttered, laden with ceremony. Her eyes smouldered, wild waves falling around her face. Fingertips worked invisible buttons at the bodice of her dress, the middle section of green parting before she shrugged it from her body. Loki gripped the sheets, thighs trembling. “It is here, for you...my Prince.” Loki wet his lips, hungry eyes staggering up every perfect inch of her naked body. Mapping the trail his fingers would take as he sank into each delicious curve. The god felt his thighs widen, the tight trousers he wore an unbearable constraint. With a flex of his fingers, he was as naked as she. “Norns,” she whispered, her eyes wide. She began to pace towards him, a sudden goddess of love and peace and salvation. “You’re even more beautiful than they say.”

Loki barely heard her, transfixed by the supple legs which now straddled him on the edge of his bed. With a sharp intake of breath he let his hands run over the curve of her ass, squeezing gently. In turn, her fingers wrapped around the root of his cock, tugging as she breathed against his cheek.

“How long I have waited for this,” she murmured softly. Loki groaned. He fell back, bringing her with him in an animalistic kiss. He was being rough, he knew that. But he could barely control the deafening roar of unnatural lust. It flowed from him in waves, a roar of static crisping in the air.

“If you feel you are in danger, leave – immediately,” Loki gasped, throwing his head back with a moan while she ground against him. His mussed hair fanned against the sheets. He could feel the well of magic pulsing inside him with the beat of his cock. Like a drum, louder and louder in his ears. “You need this,” she panted, “we all do.”

Loki was tortuously aware of his manhood dancing at the tight slit of her entrance. He felt as a hound did, told to stay itself before a feast table. She moved it in circles, lapping up her wetness. The god groaned again, lips parted to the ceiling. “For Asgard,” she murmured coyly, before sinking fearlessly onto his cock. The cry which strangled itself from Loki’s throat shook books from the shelves. A ripple reverberated from the bed, making stone from the high arches crumble in dusty clouds.

His eyes flew open, and he knew from the reflection in her own that they were dark as a lemurs. The pupils drowning out any colour in his irises; wide. Wild.

Hands flew to her hips and pushed her down as he thrust up, bottoming out. A ringing cry sounded around his chambers. “Good...girl,” he smouldered darkly, an empty echo of past affairs. “Uhhh...y-yes- good girl.” Loki heard his own voice in singular clarity. As rich and foreboding and potent as a tangled forest by moonlight. There was a squelch as he withdrew, before flipping her over. She lay below him now, her features alight with desire and self-satisfaction. Her pretty moans tickled the air as he filled her sweet little cunt to the hilt. Each slap of his hips scraped the bed further across the floor. Ancient mahogany screeching on rough stone. Had sex always felt this good? Loki couldn’t recall.

All he knew was he needed to fuck to the edge of oblivion. Her fingertips dug into the taut flesh of his ass, pulling him deeper. Loki hissed, curls swinging wild over his brow. Flames nested in the torches hung on the walls snuffed out, plunging the room into inky blackness. All that remained, while the cloud of his unspent lust blocked out the sun, was her body. This temple that would restore him. Loki sucked down, teeth grazing a bruising kiss into her shoulder. “Loki,” she whined, moaning like a whore. “More-” And Loki complied. He hoisted her legs over his shoulders. “My benevolent offering,” he muttered in barbed desire, sliding his wet cock inside her inch by tantalising inch. Loki’s eyes rolled back as he hit bottom. Consecration, surely. The torch flames came roaring back to life, licking the very ceiling above them in a tidal wave of primordial heat. The woman gasped, her pussy tightening. More dust fell from the archways, specks swimming in the air as the god punctuated every thrust with a filthy curse known only to he.

She exploded upwards, hooking her arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to hers. Their bodies writhed with devilish rhythm, each fluid buck of Loki’s hips making emerald stars explode in a dreamy haze above their heads before melting to nothing. “I’m close,” she panted, tightening her thighs around his hips. Loki growled, his breathing heavy. He could feel the animal inside him rear. The bull. The wolf. The serpent. Ready to feast upon her pleasure like a wasted demon. He pressed down, tugging her clit with slow, wicked waves of his hips.

With a howl of his name, the woman came undone beneath him; her hair sprawled and spilling over the bed’s edge like a sacrifice. The room began to shake. Or was it the palace? Loki didn’t know. Trinkets fell to the floor, smashing. Crashing sounded from the next room, plates, jars of ink splattered like dried blood on the stone. Ancient tomes thudded with morose cracks, a sound which at any other moment would fill the god with despair. But not at this moment.

Every muscle in his body was tensed, primed to detonate. His balls tightened as they slapped her skin, the thundering surge of magic in his body threatening to burst in uncontrollable chaos.

He couldn’t. It was too much, too dangerous. Suddenly her fingers clasped around his jaw, drawing his gaze to hers. It was dreamy. Happy. It was trusting. And brave. That too.

“My Prince,” she whispered softly; a calm in the storm. “Cum for me.” He pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing becoming steadier. The fingernails of her free hand scratched gently between his shoulder-blades, down the curve of his spine.

Loki savoured the heat of her body beneath his, the unrelenting grip of her channel around the root of the realms woes. She worked him fearlessly, lilting her hips up to meet the base of his cock with rhythmic grace. “For me,” she repeated, before placing a gentle kiss over his parted lips. She sucked the bottom one as it released. Loki’s mind was blinded by light. Shuddering, incapacitating pleasure searing through his body as his world went dark.

Orgasm ripped through him like torn leather; fierce and merciless and raw. It rose in an eruption, consuming and obliterating and remaking him as he spent himself inside her.

A shimmering pulse of power emanated from the bed, spreading and rippling through walls as the whole of Asgard felt the release cascading from his veins. From his cock. An aftershock that would be felt through the realm. The god's face was contorted with pleasure. A thick, shaking gasp of exhausted relief was all he could muster as he collapsed in a heap beside his saviour. Moments passed. But truly, it could have been an age.

“Did I say anything?” he panted, utterly spent. “I just felt...-” “-my name,” you finished, running a hand up his chest.

You dragged your fingernails gently down his stomach, sighing happily as the first licks of sunlight appeared through the clearing smog. “I didn’t know you knew it.” “Of course I do,” he murmured. A veil of sleep began to descend while he inhaled the scent of your sex damp hair. Was this a dream?

If it was, Loki hoped he would never dream another.

He turned to you with a lazy smile, eyelashes heavy with the bliss of it all. He was free. And she was here. Her. You. “I did not think you knew mine," he said quietly, before sleep took him.

Tags

@meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @glitchquake @holdmytesseract @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @lokischambermaid @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @multifandom-worlds @morgan-wolf @thenotoriouserg @november-rayne

[dragon-ascent]

You face off against the Geo Lord in an epic showdown.

"The moment is now, Rex Lapis," you announce, staring down at him from where you are perched. "I have come to challenge you!" Every single moment of your journey has culminated into this moment right here.

What you were made for.

And if fate has willed it, it's what your foe was made for, too. The older man is poised, golden eyes shining in amusement as he looks up at you. "You have done well to come this far, esteemed one. If a battle is what you seek, then so be it. Ready your weapon!"

"Weapon?" You laugh mockingly. "No, I need no weapon to fell you!"

The god smirks in response. "Then nor shall I use one." He gets into position, eyeing you like a hawk. Waiting for your first move.

"Here comes...the cuddle monster!" You jump off the couch and glomp your husband. "Raaaaaah!"

"A formidable move," commends Zhongli, holding you tight, "but can you counter...this?" He squeezes you, but you squeeze back with as much vim and vigor.

You cackle. "You're no match for me, Deus Auri!" You kiss his cheeks repeatedly, tackling him onto the soft sofa.

"Ah...you are strong..." he murmurs, holding you by the waist. "However, do not underestimate me, Huggable One." He takes your mouth by surprise in a deep and passionate kiss, rubbing your hips as he does so.

You find yourself melting, turning limp atop your husband. "Oh my," you sigh dreamily when he pulls away from the kiss. "Perhaps I'm no match for the Geo Lord after all..."

But just when Zhongli thinks the match is over, you grin and slide your hand teasingly lower, cupping him between his legs, eliciting a moan of surprise from him.

"I know just how to vanquish you," you tease, giggling at the way he closes his eyes with a small smile as you gleefully advance your surprise turnaround attack.

Suffice to say, the victory goes to you tonight.

[feyascorner]

blurry eyes

summary. Orin takes Astarion as a hostage and you nearly lose your mind trying to get him back. Even when you do, things aren't the way they used to be.

warnings. angst/comfort

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

a/n. fluffier break from TFBU bec it's draining the soul out of me🧍‍♀️ this is kinda messy but for me orin always kidnaps lae’zel and Im glad it’s never astarion but what if;;;

You're not yourself. Everyone knows it. Not since Orin showed up at camp wearing Astarion's face, his own blood smeared on the poor imitation of the cheeks you love so deeply. She taunted you, smiling wickedly in a way that made your stomach churn before you lunged at her with a blade, only for her to vanish into a mist of red.

You usually prefer to use your silver tongue to get out of a dangerous situation. But now, all you want to see is her blood sprayed across a wall.

There are bags under your eyes, going days without sleep. You hadn't realized how accustomed you'd become to his arms cradling you in the dead of night, his cold hands wrapped around your shoulders and your cheek pressed against the crook of his neck. You hadn't realized how attached you'd gotten to him.

The fight is quick. Despite your companion's warnings to get some rest, you charged into Bhaal's temple the moment you had access to it, and rightfully so, because she didn't stand a chance against your wrath.

And now, even with him at your fingertips, laying so peacefully on a stone slab with his eyes shut, all you can feel is the adrenaline coursing through your veins. You gently touch his cheek, and you find that it's cold, as it's always been. There's a slice of a knife, surely to leave a scar if it's not treated well. You smile a bit, the first time in days, thinking of how he'd complain about the blemish a few weeks from now.

He finally stirs, and when his eyes peel open to your face, his face falls.

"Gods above," he whispers. "Stop with the damn tricks, Orin. I'm no fool."

Your heart breaks. And while all you want to do is wrap him in your arms and wipe away his frown, the adrenaline holding you together is long gone. You're exhausted, you realize, only managing to grab the edge of the stone slab before you crumple onto your knees, vision going blurry.

Ah, maybe you should have rested.

No, not when he'd been here to suffer alone, forced to face Orin's blood-thirst. Not when you'd smelled his blood on her blade.

You want to comfort him, but nothing comes through your throat.

The two of you don't speak much. He doesn't speak much to anyone, for that matter, for a few days. You can sense the uneasiness of your other companions, who don't dare ask what Orin did to him while you'd nearly lost yourself trying to get to him. You don't approach him, fearing he might recoil away.

The only thing you can do is watch over him while he writhes in his bed, drenched with sweat and nightmares you cannot take away. You're not even sure if they're about Cazador or Orin anymore, but you can't bring yourself to touch him or the healing scar on his cheek in hopes of soothing him.

It's only two weeks later when most of your companions have gone out, and it's just the two of you on opposite sides of the room. You rub at your blade with a cloth, numbly focused on sharpening it for a bigger foe while he's still reading his book in a silence that should feel comfortable but only makes your mouth dry.

"Hells, I can't do this anymore."

You blink as he strides across the room, and he's suddenly sitting next to you while you continue staring at him like he grew a mushroom from his head. "Do what?"

"We must talk about---well, you know, darling."

Even in this brittle stage of your relationship, the way he says your nickname is loving. It makes your heart squeeze.

You place the blade on the ground. "Okay. We can talk."

There's a silence that hangs in the air before he sighs. "Torture is not a foreign concept to me, my dear. If my years under Cazador's palace did anything for me, it's made my pain tolerance impossibly high."

You frown. This does not make you feel better.

He eyes you from the side, leaning back on both his hands. "What I'm trying to say is, you don't have to worry so much about me. Even if I were to perish, I'm sure there are other vampires willing to help you with your cause to defeat the Elder Brain, though they'd be considerably less charming."

You're immediately on your feet. "Of course, I was worried about you! And I don't care if you've gone through hell and back, pain is still pain, and I don't want to see or think about you even stepping foot into something like that, much less the temple of the Lord of Murder!"

He stands after you. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Other vampires?" you say in disbelief. "Well, I don't want other vampires, I want the one that I can't even sleep without."

Your eyes are glossy now, and you hate yourself for it. You should be consoling him, not becoming emotional over the torture that he experienced. But the words come out like vomit, and you can't stop yourself.

"Love, please don’t ruin your pretty face with tears,” he tries, hands awkwardly hanging in the air as he struggles to find what to do.

“Don't act like getting kidnapped isn't a big deal," you swipe at your eyes. "You won't even talk to us."

He blinks. "Me? Avoid speaking with you?"

"Yes!"

"Well, forgive me for giving you space. You looked positively demented after you were done stabbing that vile woman to the death, I assumed you needed time to recover before I could approach you."

"What? I was giving you space."

"I assure you it was the other way around.”

“You were avoiding me!”

“Because you were avoiding me!”

You're both just staring at each other now, at a loss of words for what turned out to be a miscommunication that should have been resolved days ago. The silence hangs thickly in the air, and a rush of emotions runs between you two, expressions shifting every few moments before they simultaneously become one.

He purses his lips to refrain from smiling. You stifle a laugh.

Then you're both laughing and while the topic of discussion does not warrant as such, you can't help yourself when days of ignoring one another have come down to such a minor bump between you. When both of you calm, you sigh again, this time in utter relief. "This was anticlimactic."

"It was," he confirms. "But this one time, I don't mind."

Wordlessly, you wrap your arms around his torso, burying your face into his chest while he returns the gesture by holding you tighter. You stand there a bit, quietly, until he clears his throat.

"For the record, I don't want you to go around searching for other vampires."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You decide he can tell you more about what happened when the time comes, but now, you're more than happy the way you are.

[radiance1]

Ok I have woken up and had food.

Consider:

The Justice League have to defend earth from an oncoming alien invasion, but at the same time there had to prevent a summoning for an ancient evil in the form of a Ghost King.

The time frame for both events was exceedingly short.

So what did they decide to do?

Interrupt the summoning and instead make a deal with the Ghost King to aid them in the alien invasion.

When they do summon him, however, the Ghost King seemed offput that he was even summoned at all, despite the previous track record of him waging war with various worlds.

Pariah, looking at Superman: Ah, I have heard about you, child of Steel.

Superman: [Confusion]

So the Ghost King agrees to help them, to repay a favor that was owned to his parents. Everyone, even Superman thought it had to due with his parents on Krypton that, ya'know, exploded and are questioning what kind of thing they did to get the Ghost King to owe them a favor.

When the day of the Alien invasion came too, they expected either the Ghost King coming down himself, one of his soldiers or a small portion of his army.

Oh, they got an army alright. But not the army they expected.

The Ghost King himself even appeared, in Farmer's attire no less. He struck that pose where a person leaned back and looked to the sky and shouted a war cry, followed by loud, maniacal laughter.

Pariah: GO FORTH MY CHILDREN! DROWN THE EARTH IN THE BLOOD OF YOUR FOES AND BRING HELL DOWN UPON THOSE WHO DARED TEST YOUR MIGHT!

And what followed after his war cry was a flood of horses, both living and undead, covered in ghostly armor that ran through the streets and ascended into the sky to fend off the alien invasion throughout the city.

Of course, the Justice League also fought alongside the Ghost King's 'army' and succeeded in defending earth from the alien invasion. Surprisingly, or perhaps not surprisingly, none of the Ghost King's horses faced any significant injury.

Of course, the news took to it like sharks that smelled a drop of blood within the sea currents. Questions of who the meta is, where they found him and if he were a newfound member of the Justice League, some of the rich even asked if the Justice League could acquire them one of the horses.

Not that Pariah Dark, resident Ghost King and Farmer on earth, would let anyone by any of his children. They wouldn't even know how to or put in the proper care for them!

The favor he owned to Superman's parents weren't of his Kryptonian heritage, no. It was instead a one-sided repayment to the Kent's for gifting him a few rare living horses he didn't know how to acquire, they said he didn't need to pay them back, but he couldn't just leave such considerate and valuable gifts such as these without giving something in return.

Such opportunity came in the form of defending their home planet from an alien invasion.

On another note, the Kent's recognized the man on the internet is currently going crazy about as one of their neighbors. They were worried when they saw him on the scene, and after asked if he was okay.

Pariah(In human form): Foolish mortals, your worries on unfounded.

Clock 'well versed in Pariah decoding' work(in human form): He's very touched by your concern.

Pariah, feeling his face heat up in what human's call blush: My love!

[heartfullofleeches]

Leech can learn a few words but be mostly mute

I like this thought from @/resident-cryprid

Leech Darling might not be able to fully pronounce words due to the structure of their face, but they may be able to mimic words they've heard-

-

Yan Dentist: [sighs] I wish I could be half as cute as you, my dove-

Leech Darling: c.....c....ut...e?

Yan Dentist: Ah?

[Leech Darling points at the dentist, chittering softly]

Yan Dentist: Ah..... [pulls out their phone] Can you repeat that foe me, precious?

[Leech Darling curls up on the floor, back facing away from the dentist - feigning falling asleep]

Yan Dentist: Sometimes.... I believe you feed on my suffering rather than my blood.... I love you regardless, dear...

Leech Darling: ....ove....

[hellenhighwater]

okay I gotta finish my freaking taxes tonight but

if I go chug the monster that I wound up not drinking while driving home from detroit at 2 am last saturday

I could maybe do my taxes AND work on the Icarus sculpt a bit

ah, responsible decision making, my ancient foe!!!