#this image was burning a hole in my brain I had to get it out

[eye-of-the-hawk]

Easy, girl.

[k-atsukibakugou]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

18+ MINORS & BLANK BLOGS DNI

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @k-atsukibakugou, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost or recommend my work on other platforms or translate my works, i do not give permission for my works to be bound and sold. 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

[nanaminsmoon]

e.jaegar x shynailtech!reader. mdni. 18+

wc: 1761.

a/n: the girlies wanted another eren fic and i need to clear my drafts so here we are😁

eren had ended up on your doorstep, hands in his pockets and checking his shoes, via a trusty recommendation courtesy of mikasa. being arguably your best and most loyal client, mikasa had notified you about his visit a week before your appointment. but, though you had been expecting the brunette, you hadn’t expected him to be as good-looking as he was; brown locks in a loose bun, grey tech under his black moncler coat and white af1s on his feet. and his good looks weren’t the only thing she had failed to mention, because eren seemingly had a staring problem.

those jades hadn’t left you since eren had crossed the threshold separating your studio and the outside world. it was hard not to notice, because he was practically burning two holes into the top of your head as you worked. yet you wouldn’t mention it, because you assumed it was due to novelty. because, as put-together as he was—well-groomed, and smelling of a knee-weakening herby mix of woody cologne and faint weed—it was very much possible that it was his first time getting his nails done. so it was only natural for him to thoroughly assess his surroundings, as well as the people in it. it just so happened that, unluckily for you, you were the only person in those surroundings.

while most clients would pull their phones out, some even going as far as to put their airpods in while making small conversation, eren found all his entertainment in you; your steady breathing as you poured all your attention into your craft, the way you’d pull back from his fingertips and ask him for his approval, and the way his calloused hands felt in your delicate ones. their grip was firm, yet very gentle, and he felt sick for even imagining how they’d feel wrapped around his dick. just two seconds of quiet was enough time for his brain to generate different versions of one particular image: those nails of yours, that he figured you had done yourself, decorating his hard length—your thumb occasionally swiping over his leaking tip. though just a daydream, the feeling was so visceral that a small shudder travelled down his spine, forcing a deep breath to leave eren’s mouth without his permission. and that would be the thing to make him shake himself out of his reveries before you noticed.

“you’re good at this. i see why mikasa is here all the time”, he'd comment, and your small laugh would be covered by the back of your hand as you muttered out a timid ‘thanks’. and though he tried to fight it, those perverse thoughts he had quelled rose back again because of that simple reaction.

‘curiosity’ was the name of the debauched hand twisting every single one of eren’s thoughts, and its fuel was the question of how far your shy demeanour extended. during the few moments his eyes weren’t locked on you, they would be fixed on a random spot in the room as he entertained the idea of burying your hard work deep inside of you—slender digits moving in and out of you with haste, as his other hand rested on the back of your neck to pull your lips onto his. eren pondered whether or not your hand would still cover your mouth even as he curled his fingers in a way that made your back arch off your work chair. would that coy act still try to override the fact that your walls told him what your abashed mouth refused to say? and, as his arousal made him shift in his chair, eren’s mind couldn’t help but ask him if you'd grab onto his arm as your lips told him it was too much, but your eyes pleaded for him to keep going. luckily for his inquisitive mind, eren would soon find the answers to all his questions.

“but you can take it, can't you ma?”, eren’s breath slid past the shell of your ear as he spoke into it. his words reeked of artificial sympathy, because there was not an ounce of pity in his digits as they pumped in and out of you—a rogue thumb even moving to rub at your clit.

most people would be bothered by someone staring them, many would even ask them what their problem was, but you had remained silent—knees pushed together as you tried to soothe the effects of eren’s glare, underneath the table. even when he’d move a little closer, purposely making sure you were aware that it was you he was looking at and not whatever was being illuminated by the bright led lights on your table, all you’d do was push your head further down to narrow your vision on the task at hand—making eren scoff in amusement.

“y'know...”, he'd finally speak up, to no proper response, “it's okay to come up for air every once in a while”, eren would remark and, from where he was looking, he’d see your eyebrows crease in confusion.

“you ain't gotta be scareda me. eye contact is good. customer service and whatnot”, he’d shrug, and you’d nod back. and that’s all you could do. because everything he was saying was right; his glower had burned through you, leaving behind a cowardly pile of ashes.

“yeah, but i gotta do my job. so i kinda have to look at ‘em”, you’d explain.

“the nails are fine.”, he'd quip, pulling his hand from your grasp to leave you just staring at the table, “and so are you. so lemme see your face”, he'd say, and you'd freeze.

“need me to ask you again, or do i gotta move you myself?”, he'd ask with a sly smirk, that you’d only see when you faced him. once he could meet your shaking eyes, he'd sigh in contentment,

“there she is”, he'd joke.

and now she was about to cum on his fingers so he'd quickly pull them out of you, earning him a look of aroused outrage from yourself.

“think imma do allat and not see how this pussy feel?”, a light chuckle carried eren’s question out of his mouth, and his hands would be preoccupied with pulling his joggers and boxers down. eren wanted all that shyness gone, so he'd get you to take the initiative and move yourself back on him—fucking yourself on his dick, with your hard work sandwiched between your tongue and the roof of your mouth as you sucked all the arousal off his middle fingers. it only took a few minutes, but the shy woman he had met had all but disappeared as soon as eren's dick had entered her, and that amused him. maybe you had been shy because you feared looking at him would lead you to this very position, and you weren't ready to face that reality. but eren had enough courage for the both of you; he had been brave on your behalf, so you could get to the point where his dick was so deep inside you, he was making your legs shake,

“eren, i’m cumming”, you spoke out quietly, and he grabbed your jaw and turned you to face him.

“i can’t hear you. say it again”, he ordered through clenched teeth, and you whined, “just speak up for me, ma”, he kissed your cheek.

“i’m cumming, eren”, you said louder, and he’d smile to himself before holding onto you and fucking into you himself. you came almost instantaneously, your voice the loudest he’d heard you. there weren’t many words you could string together because your brain was too busy trying to will your limbs to keep you upright. but it would be enough encouragement for eren, and it’d move his hips faster as he continued fucking into you.

the feeling of you tightening around him had switched your roles; it had rendered eren speechless, while you were straining your vocal cords to tell him how good he felt—all the while, neglecting the fact that you were about to snap a fingernail with how hard you were gripping onto your work surface. if his curling toes didn’t have him busy fighting a foot cramp, eren might’ve had time to be surprised by the fact that you cut him off as he was about to speak.

“nut in it, eren”, you’d plead with him, and your words must’ve skipped over his ears and gone straight to his dick, because those five syllables would be enough for him to still and fill you with his seed—his lips connected to your neck to barely stifle his moans. there’d be a slight pause as you both stood, catching your breath and recovering from a high that wasn’t ready to come down yet. when you’d reluctantly try to pull away from him, you’d be thankful his fingernails were trimmed because they’d be digging into your hips and, as expected, his eyes were stuck to your face. even with his curiosity quenched, eren wouldn’t stop studying you; the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing regulated again, the stray hairs adhered to your forehead by sweat, and the small pout formed by you holding back your frustrations,

“the fuck’s your problem?”, you’d finally ask, and eren would be taken aback by your curt words.

“what, i can’t look at you?”, he’d ask through a low chuckle, kissing your cheeks and rubbing circles on your exposed hips.

“yeah, but chill—ffuck”, each time you moved off him, eren’s hands would halt you and the friction was tightening the knot in your stomach that he had loosened not too long ago, “i’m not going nowhere, you ain’t gotta stare like that”, your laboured words fought against the moans threatening to escape your mouth.

“you’re just pretty, that’s all”, eren’s hand would once again be on your jaw, stilling your movements so his lips could resume their kissing on your neck and the space behind your ears, while his hips restarted their movements, “but you right; i ain’t done with you, so you not going nowhere til i am.”

©2023 nanaminsmooninc. All rights reserved. You may not copy, reproduce, or modify works without permission.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Task 141 + König and Alejandro

I did request this earlier (and I apologize for spamming - but had to add some things!)

How the boys react to coming from a meeting or mission to reader being in lingerie waiting on their bed or room. 😏 If you’re comfortable - could you add smut? Would love to know how they’d react heheheh… Pure filth is also very much welcomed! 🫣

Ah yes! Thanks for this request. Feel free to spam away ;) As requested, this is pure trash with like zero plot🤣

141 + König & Alejandro With Reader Suprising Them With Lingiere

Warnings: pure filth, smut, oral (f and m receiving), p in v sex, cream pie, swearing, spanking

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon was exhausted, the day was unbearably long, and he wanted nothing more than to come home to you.

Shuffling his feet through the door, he saw that all of the lights were off in the room, indicating you must've gone to bed early. He let out a small sigh, laying his stuff down on the floor, before making his way up to your bedroom.

When he caught sight of you, his cock instantly hardened in his pants. There you were, sprawled out on the bed in the nicest lingerie set he's ever seen. It was a red lacy set (his favorite color) and had a stunning matching garter. He walked toward you, his exhaustion now long forgotten. "Fucking look at you, sweetheart."

You bit your lip as you watched him approach, running your hand along your fabric covered heat. "You like? Thought I'd surprise you."

"Oh I fucking love, sweetheart." He quickly discarded his shirt, and crawled toward you on the bed. He sat and admired the set awhile longer, burning the image into his head, before he leaned down and placed an open mouth kiss to your clothed heat.

You let out a small whimper, your hands going to his head as he smirked. "You want my mouth, baby?"

You nodded feverishly and cried out when he pushed the fabric aside just enough to give his mouth access to your now soaked cunt.

He slipped his tongue between your folds and inhaled deeply. It never took long for him to get pussy drunk off you, as he buried his face into your core, lapping at your arousal like a starved man. His tongue stroked up and down your folds, making obscene noises as he went.

He looked up to you, and saw a euphoric sight. Your eyes were closed, face scrunched up slightly as you pawed at him. That, mixed with the sight of the lingerie on you had his brain working overtime, as he continued his assault on your cunt.

He added one of his slender fingers to your hole, and began to pump it in and out in rhythm with his tongue, which was now flicking wildly at your clit. You started to feel the coil in your belly tighten and dug your nails into his shoulder blades. He gave your clit a light nip, causing you to scream out as your orgasm tore through you.

He stayed between your thighs for some time, cleaning up your mess with a heavy sigh, his tongue stroking at your folds lazily.

When he got his fill, he pulled his head away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Removing his pants, he then moved up to you, grabbed the undersides of your thighs, and pushed your legs next to your head.

He gave you a small kiss before ramming himself into you, burying his cock completely within your walls. His hands gripped the head board above him, giving him a better angle to begin pounding into you at full force.

The way his cock stretched you out had you seeing stars. He was the biggest you'd ever been with, and my God did he know what he was doing with it. Each thrust of his hips had him burying himself to the hilt, hitting that sweet spot inside your walls every time.

He moved one of his hands to your thigh, hooking one of his fingers underneath the garter there and began to tug, his pace not relenting. Feeling himself growing close to his own release, his thrusts started to grow erratic as he chased his high. He gave another tug to the straps, as he felt his orgasm wash through him, stopping his movements when the straps tore in half in his hands.

You looked up at your boyfriend, a fucked out smile on your face. "You ruined my lingere."

Simon chuckled as he pulled out, breathing heavily. "I'll buy a new set for you, eh? Can't promise I won't ruin that one, too."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Lass, have you seen my...oh my god." Johnny had come barging into your shared room, trying to find his phone when he caught sight of you. You were wearing a new set of pink lingerie that hugged you in all the right places. You turned from the mirror you were looking at, and gave Johnny a sultry smile.

"Phones right here, I was just filling up your camera roll." You handed him his phone, to which he threw to the bed beside him.

He grabbed your waist and lifted you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. "You look fucking divine, bonnie."

He threw you on the bed and nearly came in his pants as he got a better look of the set. "I need to fuck you in this, right now."

He tore off his shirt and leaned down to place soft kisses along your curves. You moaned at the contact, throwing your head back to the pillow behind you. Johnny could've stayed like this for hours, pressing kisses into your exposed flesh. You started to grow restless, so you wrapped your legs around his waist, flipping the two of you over, so now you were on top. You gave a sly smirk before placing your own kisses down his chiseled torso, stopping at his pants to rip them off in one stroke.

Putting your legs on either side of his waist, you slowly made your way up to his cock, grinding yourself on his member. He let out a small whimper as his hands dug into the flesh of your thighs. "Please, please fuck me, wanna watch you get off in that outfit."

You whined at his words but did as he asked. You pulled the soaked fabric aside, and slid yourself down onto his cock. The two of you cried out at the contact, and Soap's hands were now bruising your thighs from how hard he was gripping. "So fucking tight."

You started to circle your hips slowly, watching as Johnny struggled to keep his eyes open. His hands moved from your thighs to grasp at your covered tits, palming at the material roughly.

You moaned at the contact as you started to bounce up and down on his cock. Johnny began babbling, you felt so good around him that his eyes were begging to be closed, but he wanted to watch you fuck him in that set so badly.

You raked your nails down his chest and watched as red streaks began to litter his skin in its wake. You picked up your pace, now bouncing wildly on him, and started to feel your orgasm approaching. It never took you long to cum with Johnny, something you were beyond thankful for.

Leaning backward slightly, you laid your hands on his thighs behind you and continued your movements, as sweat started to form on your brow. Johnny nearly drooled at the sight before him, you looked so fucking good on top of him, taking him as well as you were.

"Fuck, lass I'm so close. Please don't stop." Johnny begged as he squeezed at your hips.

You gave a low moan as your movements started to grow sloppy and desperate. With one final motion of your hips, your orgasm coarsed through you, as your walls clenched down on Johnny, triggering his own release.

You collapsed down onto him, in a sweaty mess, as his hands came up to stroke your back softly. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, before he looked up at you with a smile.

"May I request a photo of my own?" He asked, before grabbing the phone next to your bed. "Just a little one, for whenever I'm on the road."

John Price-

"Love? You almost ready to go?" You heard your husband's voice call from outside your shared room.

"Yeah, in a minute. Can you come help me with my buttons?" You asked, a mischievous smile working its way to your face. You and Price were to go and see a movie together with some friends, but you had other plans.

He made his way into your room, stopping abruptly in the doorway when his eyes fell on your figure on the bed. "Bloody hell, what's that you got on there?"

"It's a present." You bit your lip and started to massage at the fabric covering your tits. You were wearing a new green lingere set you'd just recently bought at the mall, and it fit your figure perfectly. Price felt his cock hardening in his pants at the sight of you.

John moved to remove his belt, his eyes never leaving your form. "That so?"

"Does daddy like?" You asked, licking your lips in anticipation. John came over once he'd undressed himself, and dragged you to the end of the bed.

"You're about to find out." He promised, turning you over so your ass was facing him. He bent down for just a moment, to bite into the flesh of your ass cheek, before smoothing it over with his hand.

You cried out and lurched forward, causing your ass to stick higher up in the air. Price chuckled to himself and let his hands palm at the flesh of your ass.

He rubbed the tip of his cock at your sopping folds, before pushing himself into you. The grip he had on your hip was brusing, as he begun to slam his cock into you at a brutal base, not giving you a moment to adjust.

Your fingers gripped the sheets in front of you, desperately trying to ground yourself. You cried out a soft whine as Price landed a slap to your ass. "S-So good, daddy. So good."

"That's fucking right princess. You look so good in this, couldn't help myself." He cooed, moving his hands to your hair for a makeshift ponytail, tugging it back toward him with a firm grip.

You felt his thrusts start to grow languid, as he neared his high. You knew what would help him get off faster, so you started to push your hips back in time with his thrusts. Price groaned loudly as his grip on your hair tightened. "Fuck baby girl that's it, I'm so close."

After a few final lazy thrusts, you felt your lover's cock twitch inside of you, covering your walls with his hot cum. He pulled out slowly once he'd caught his breath and pressed a gentle kiss on your back.

"Since you were such a good girl for me, why don't you roll on your back and spread your legs. Let Daddy take care of you."

"But we have plans for the movies, babe." You teased, running your hand along your abdomen.

"Fuck the movies."

König-

"Hey, Ko, can you come here? I wanted to show you something." You called out, admiring your form in the mirror before you. You'd just bought a new lingiere set at the store and were excited to show your boyfriend. It was a blue sheer set, leaving little to the imagination.

König made his way to your room before nearly fainting at the sight of you. He stood dumbfounded for a moment as drool started to pool in his mouth. He was left speechless and hardly knew what to say.

He shook his head and started walking toward you, effectively backing you up against the wall behind you. "You look so fucking divine, Maus."

He put his hands on either side of your head and let his eyes rake down your figure. He felt his cock harden almost painfully in his trousers and moved forward to grind himself against you.

He lifted you up in one motion, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed a bruising kiss to your mouth, swiping his tongue against yours. You moved your hands to the waist band of his pants, undoing his belt and pushing down his garments, leaving him bare to you.

You were quick to line his hard member up with your entrance, and sank down onto him, your walls hugging his length in a vice like grip.

He grunted out loudly into your mouth, as your kiss became more heated, a clash of tongue and teeth. He bucked his hips up into you, fucking you senseless.

You gasped out, grapping onto his shoulders for support as he fucked up into you. "Fuck, Kö. You feel so good."

König grunted in response, as let his eyes rake down your body once more, landing in between your bodies watching your pussy swallowing him whole.

You raked your nails along his back as he picked up his pace, your other hand flying in his sweaty hair to steady yourself. The sounds emitting from your lover are what drew you closer to your release. He was whimpering softly, soft german curse words escaping his lips. It never took much to make this man putty in your hands.

He continued to buck his hips up into you, as one of his hands made in way in between you two, and his calloused fingers started to circle your clit, rubbing at the soft bundle of nerves with vigor.

You cried out, throwing your head back onto the wall behind you, your legs tightening their hold around your lover's midsection. His pace didn't relent, and your orgasm rapidly took over you, as you clenched your soaked walls around his cock.

König groaned, still desperately chasing his high with his rapid thrusts, before his own orgasm tore through him. His cock pulsed inside you, painting your walls white with his seed.

The two of you pulled away breathless, and König looked at you, admiration in his eyes. "You look so damn good, Schatz. Can I have another?"

And who were you to say no? Not when he asked so nicely.

Alejandro-

"Fuck me, te ves jodidamente increíble." (you look fucking incredible) Alejandro breathed out, as his eyes landed on you, sitting at the edge of your bed in the new set of lingierie you had.

"You think, baby? Didn't know if you'd like it." You teased, flopping on your back and spreading your legs to reveal more of the set to your lover.

"Surely, you're joking. It makes you look delicious, hermosa." A smirk formed on his lips as he let his eyes rake over your body. "Let me show you, yeah?"

You nodded your head slowly as he climbed over you, capturing your lips in a firey kiss. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, then moved to bite at the flesh softly.

He laid down on top of you, gently putting his hand under your back to slide you up to the pillow. He pressed loving kisses along your jaw, trailing to your collarbone as he hovered over you. "Eres magnifica, hermosa."

You gave a content sigh at the affection and moved your hands to the hem of his shirt. "May I?"

He gave a soft chuckle and lifted himself off you, just long enough to remove all his garments. He returned his lips to your neck, sucking at the flesh there, leaving small bruises along your skin.

He moved his hand to your core, inserting his finger into you at a slow pace. You moaned, throwing your head back onto the pillow behind you. "Ready for me, my sweet girl?"

You nodded your head with a small smile, and he came to press a soft kiss on your lips. Nuzzling his face in your neck, he slowly pushed himself into you, groaning as your walls squeezed around him.

He started moving at a languid pace, savoring the feeling of your walls gripping his length. You moaned as he returned his mouth to your skin, now creating small love bites in the flesh of your shoulder blades.

Alejandro was a passionate lover, never too rough, but never too soft either. He always knew the perfect ways to make you come undone beneath him.

He captured your lips in his once more and sped up his thrusts, pounding into you feverishly. You felt the coil in your belly tighten as your orgasm rapidly approached, your fingers digging crescent marks into your lover's back.

Alejandro let out a small grunt, and his thrusts started to become sloppy as he neared his own release. The coil in your belly snapped, causing you to arch your back up into Alejandro, your tight walls convulsing against his cock. He let out a strangled moan as he was pushed to the edge. He slowly continued to push in and out of your core, allowing you to milk his cock for everything he had, before collapsing on the bed beside you.

"You are so good to me, mi amor. I love you." He declared softly, as he placed a delicate kiss to your sweaty brow.

Now, knowing how your boyfriend reacted to lingerie, you made it a point to wear it around him more often.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I'm so sorry for this🥹😭

Update: I just realized I'm a turd and completely forgot to add Gaz, I will update this shortly🫣😅

[yeyinde]

just thinking about moaning captain whilst Price is watching you

you put this idea in my head, and now i can't stop thinking about it 🫣😳

warnings: f!solo; female reader; slight voyeurism; dirty thoughts; head empty full of John Price

It's bad. Terrible. Wrong. 

You shouldn't be doing this, and yet—

It's him you think of as your fingers slide between your thighs. The taste of malt on your tongue, the scent of smoke in your nose. Acrid and sour. Him, him, him—

It's wrong, you know this. Have known this for the week you'd been sneaking off into the showers at night, back pressed against the wall, teeth sinking into your wrist to stem the quiver in your voice as you pushed your fingers deep inside of yourself, and wished so desperately that it was him touching you. 

(Him, him, him—)

You don't often get moments of privacy to yourself. There are no luxury hotel rooms to be found in the middle of combat, and certainly no bed bug-ridden motels that reek of cigarette smoke to rest your head at night. 

The military barracks offered by the host country are as much of the Four Seasons as you'll find out here. 

Which, unfortunately, includes the communal showers. 

It's dangerous. Risky. 

But Gaz had leaned down when you'd first arrived, brows drawn tight together, and said: if you go after, at night, no one will bother you. Cap said he'd make sure of it. 

You're not worried—not at all. The only ones who share the washroom with you are Gaz, Soap, Ghost, and—

You shiver. 

Price. Cap. 

They're all trustworthy; you'd lay your life in their hands gladly. 

You wonder what they would think, then, knowing that you were taking advantage of their kindness by sneaking off, and burying your fingers inside of your cunt while you imagined what it would feel like to burn yourself on the end of Price's cigar?

Another shiver. You sink your teeth into your lip to stop the moans from spilling out. They conjeal in your throat until you choke on them. Plumes of smoke and ash. The phantom whisper of him on your tongue.

He mumbled something a week ago about helping you aim better, and ever since—you hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. About him. 

The bulk of his body pressed against your back; blistering warmth and the heady scent of kerosene. The low grumble in your ear ("mm, two notches lower; good job"); smoke-drenched praise that snaked down your spine, and made you shake. Firm huffs of how to do it, how to hold the gun steady. Clipped commands that soaked inside your brain, infecting your thoughts like a fever. 

Today he'd said that's it, now; nice and steady, and it's the only thing on your mind as you dip your finger between your folds, circling your clit. Nice and steady. It's embarrassing how absolutely wrecked you are by just the phantom whisper of him in your ear. 

You think of his hands on your body—big, and rough, and hot—sliding over your flesh. Goosebumps prickle your skin when your smaller, softer hands map out the places you want him to touch. Your neck—you'd seen him wrap his hands around a man's throat; would he do the same to you? His palms pressed to sides, thumb against your jugular. Your head tips back at the thought, neck exposed. Your hand slides over your pulse but it doesn't feel the same as the way the image of him in your head makes you feel. Lacklustre. Empty. 

Your hand drops to your breast. How would you fit in the cup of his palm? Your thumb brushes over your nipple. Static pleasure ripples through your core. It's good. It's so good. But—

It isn't enough. 

The fingers on your clit, the ones on your nipple—it's bereft of the same heft his hands carry. The same blemishes, scars. His skin is rough and drenched red, and you want him to stain your skin with the ichor under his nails. 

It's not enough, but it's passable.

Your core tightens with each swipe of your thumb, each tease of your forefinger when you dip it inside your drenched hole. It's enough to pretend it's him. To pretend that he's touching you. Breathing in your ear—good girl; nicely done, love; you listen so well—until you can't hear anything else but the husk of his voice, growling low and deadly in your head. The scent of him would flood you: heavy and saturated in smoke, malt. He smells of Maduro and petrol and leather, and sometimes you can catch a whiff of his musk on your skin after he touches you, and it nearly makes you melt where you stand. 

What would he do if he knew? If he knew how wet your cunt got whenever he was near? How much you thought of him when you sunk your fingers into yourself, and wished so badly it was him—

Maybe, he'd give you what you craved. Big hands on your skin; nipples caught between his thumb and forefinger. The way he'd slide down until he reached your mound. 

"Mm, spread your legs for me, dove." 

You gasp, thighs parting at the thought. Your fingers graze your clit, and you think of him. 

"You want it bad, don't you?" 

You think of his thumb brushing over your throbbing clit; a firm stroke, and then a slow roll until your knees trembled. He'd press against it until you babbled his name, begging for more. His fingers sliding down to your hole, cupping your pussy in the molten palm of his hands. 

His growl in your ear. "This wet for me already, love? I haven't even fuckin' touched you yet."

The way you'd stretch around his fingers when he pushed them inside, as deep as they would go. Thrusting them in and out of your sopping cunt in a parody of what you wanted him to do with cock so badly it had you seeing the cosmos when you closed your eyes. An ache inside that could only be quenched by the deep, brutal way he'd fill you up. 

He'd be big, too. Stretch you wide, and make you take every single inch of him. Would he make you beg for it? Let you sink to your knees and show him how much you wanted it?

You press your hand against your belly, fingers working your clit as you imagine the feeling of him pounding you against the wall, filling you up. 

"C—captain—!"

Your eyes snap open, hand slapping over your mouth. Heart lurching, thudding painfully in your chest. Your heavy breath fills the static in the room, muffled by the cup of your palm. The spray of the shower. The creak of the pipes. 

Maybe, no one heard. Your body sags against the wall, chest heaving. 

Your head lifts, glancing once more at the entranceway to the changing room. 

Liquid sapphires. Brow drawn tight. 

Your heart stutters. "C—captain, I—"

His eyes flash. "I didn't tell you to stop."

[geoffrard]

My Chemical Romance, Hardcore Sexual Repression, and the Lemon Stealing Whore

[Content warning for non-graphic references to pornography, sex, sexual violence, and negative attitudes towards sex work. There is no explicit nudity but you might not want to read this in front of your boss. All images have descriptions in alt text. See sources here. Read this essay on my Dreamwidth here.]

It’s the setup of a joke: Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Frank Iero, Matt Pelissier, and a porn actress huddle around a leather couch in a dingy room as a camera rolls. The actress, a young and bright-eyed Joanna Angel, asks each member of My Chemical Romance in the room, “Do you guys watch porn?”

Most of us have seen the interview. If not, stop and watch it now, because nothing else I say will make sense otherwise. (And here, just for you, I’ve reuploaded the video with at least 10% more pixels. Watch below, or read a transcript here.)

The fact that My Chemical Romance, whose faces have decorated shirts at Hot Topic for over fifteen years, whose songs have saved lives and inspired memes, who all have wives and children, would end up associated with an alt porn website like Burning Angel often baffles fans watching the interview for the first time. 

For example, see these comments left on the original video uploaded to YouTube: 

These comments, though more than a few years old, generally represent how a lot fans understand the interview. Other people think it’s funny and perhaps a little out of left field, but don’t question how four members wound up on a porn site like Burning Angel. Both attitudes are a pretty typical example of the MCR fandom’s ignorance about the New Jersey hardcore scene, as well reflecting general weirdness about sex work. 

Since I cannot turn my historian brain off, I wanted to provide some of the extremely interesting historical context behind the video. The post I had originally planned to make very, very briefly outlined how MCR ended up being interviewed by Joanna Angel, founder and longtime CEO of Burning Angel. But the more I looked into it, the more I fell down a rabbit hole. This eventually turned into something of a mammoth manifesto about women and sexuality in the late 90s hardcore scene that gave My Chemical Romance and Joanna Angel careers. I will warn you: this is long. But it’s also important historical background information that rarely gets discussed at all—especially by MCR fans.

(So, with all that said, please feel free to ask any questions about anything I say here! Sources for will be posted on a different post which I will link at the end, and I have been quite thorough, though not as thorough as I could have been.)

Tl;dr: Joanna Angel came up in the exact same scene as My Chemical Romance, Thursday, and Midtown, a scene which stigmatized open sexual expression, at the expense of women and queer people—especially those involved in sex work. When she started her porn site, Burning Angel, she applied the same DIY values that her peers did to their own bands, but faced violence and ostracization from a subculture much too repressed to embrace such blatant expression of female sexuality. In this context, the My Chemical Romance interview with Burning Angel in 2004 was not only a group of guys doing a favor for someone they had probably known for years at that point; it can also be read as a somewhat controversial act that pushed back against this aversion to sexuality, and that helped legitimize and popularize both the site and Joanna Angel’s career. 

Burning Angel: the Movie (2005)

Say you’re a diehard My Chemical Romance fan in 2005—if you really want to watch your favorite band discuss their porn-viewing habits, you’ll have to travel to either your local adult entertainment store or go to the hardcore porn site BurningAngel.com and order their first DVD, appropriately titled Burning Angel: The Movie. Once you have the disc, you’ll have to fast forward through several sex scenes and interviews with other bands before you arrive at what you wanted: the actress who you’ve just seen in hardcore sex scenes asking Gerard, Frank, Mikey and Otter questions about their preferences in adult entertainment.

The DVD was Burning Angel’s first attempt at more professional pornography, and Joanna’s first foray into full participation in filmed, live-action sex. Joanna Angel would later go on to be one of the most well-known porn stars of our time—in Virgin Territory (2006), for example, she played a lemon stealing whore; you might have seen the video—and Burning Angel would be credited with the popularization of the “alt” porn genre, which broke from the exploitative mainstream porn model and typically featured models representative of subcultures.

But in 2005 her alt porn empire was still in its infancy, and Joanna was still struggling to rectify her recent full expulsion from the local New Jersey hardcore social scene with her enduring devotion to DIY values—and the fact that members of the sexually repressed subculture that had ostracized Joanna were her site’s target audience.

Joanna Angel on the Scene

Any thoughts of a future career in adult entertainment and the last name Angel were far from her mind when Joanna Mostov enrolled in Rutgers University in 1998. 

Though she often pushed back against the wishes of her religious orthodox Jewish family, the extent of her adolescent rebellion had ended at sneaking out to punk shows and getting piercings her mother wouldn’t approve of. At Rutgers, Joanna quickly became enmeshed in the New Brunswick hardcore scene, putting her in the same circles as a host of people whose names you might recognize: Geoff Rickly of Thursday (who ran hundreds of shows out of his basement), Gabe Saporta of Midtown and Cobra Starship, and Alex Saavedra of Eyeball Records. 

Geoff Rickly: Well, you know, the funny thing is that, at the time, Joanna, who would later go on to form Burning Angel and become a famous porn star in her own right, was playing in her goth bands with chelsea haircuts and the basement shows. Like, her local goth band would play. And they’d bring out people and stuff, and I’d put touring bands on that show, and so it’s funny to me how, weirdly, DIY punk hardcore scenes and porn had weird associations then. [source: Going Off Track: Geoff Rickly, 2012]

The NJ hardcore scene was close-knit enough that while she only has documented friendships with some of these people, she had to have crossed paths with most of them multiple times (for example, Joanna was at the show on December 31, 1998 where Thursday and Midtown played their first real sets). She went to every show she could and hosted some in her own basement. 

While we don’t necessarily have a written record of her friendship with Frank Iero and Mikey Way of My Chemical Romance, the fact that Joanna attended plenty of shows in the North Jersey area and also spent a lot of time at the Eyeball House (Alex was a close friend; and Pencey Prep was on his label) suggests that, at the the very least, Joanna, Frank, and Mikey were aware of each other’s presence in these early years. They were peers in the same scene, just as they were with everyone else who frequented the same venues or played in the same basements.

For years, the hardcore scene mattered to her more than anything else; it was her social life and what she based her values upon. 

Those hardcore values and a growing curiosity about her own sexuality lead Joanna to sex-positive feminist activism and a writing internship with Nerve.com, an online magazine which explored topics related to sex and romantic relationships. From there, her interest in expressing her own sexuality continued to develop.

[Suicidegirls in 2001]

So, in 2002, when her roommate and friend asked her if she wanted to start a porn site that offered more explicit content than sites like SuicideGirls, which featured punk aesthetics and band interviews but stayed away from anything more than simple nudity, Joanna agreed.

BurningAngel.com went live in April 2002. It wanted to do things differently than other porn sites. While not necessarily pushing the boundaries of beauty standards, the site used models who were beautiful but in a more approachable, average sense. Joanna has said that since she had little experience even watching porn prior to starting the site, she wanted the site to mimic the kind of sex she was having with actors who looked like the people she was having sex with. 

Joanna: When we started the website, it was a reflection of ourselves. It still is to this day. There's band interviews on the website, the style of girl that we use is not your average typical porn star and the personality on the website is a little bit different. All the members interact with each other, all of the girls have blogs and profiles, and people become friends with each other. It's more of a community and a reflection of a subculture rather than just being a website with content to jerk-off to and never think about again. [source: Complex: Interview: Joanna Angel Talks Alt Porn, Piracy, And Her Blow-Up Doll, 2011] 

[Burning Angel’s homepage in June 2002]

Hardcore Punk Reacts to Hardcore Porn 

Her longtime involvement in the scene and her application of DIY ethics to her porn business did not mean that the hardcore culture actively nurtured Joanna Angel’s career in porn. In reality, many parts of the scene were actively hostile towards Joanna and the site once Burning Angel went live.

This backlash isn’t incredibly surprising within the context of late 90s hardcore, a subculture that by and large refused to acknowledge sexuality of any kind. 

The sexual repression in hardcore reflected several different aspects of its culture: a negative perception of women active in the scene; a reaction against the violence of tristate hardcore in the early 90s; and, more than anything else, the general privilege of those involved in the underground.

Like Joanna, Geoff Rickly, and Frank Iero, most people involved in New Brunswick hardcore were enrolled at Rutgers, and white, middle-class male college students dominated the scene. For many of them, applying DIY values to their own lives meant distancing themselves from their socioeconomic upper-hand. Consequently, the scene as a whole developed an attitude of asceticism, rejecting anything that served no purpose beyond pleasure or personal enjoyment. (Of course, it was easy for them to reject their social privileges, especially when they could just as easily cast off their aesthetic of poverty and self-denial for an adulthood of relative comfort.)

To do anything just because you enjoyed it, or because it brought you happiness in the moment, was seen to be a betrayal of hardcore’s higher intellectual goals—and that included sex. You can see this trend, for example, in lyrics from NJ hardcore bands, which focused on things like political issues or childhood traumas instead of the common themes of sexual and romantic desire found in mainstream music.

Joanna spoke about finding comfort in the general sexual repression of the scene because of her own adolescent insecurities:

Joanna: Me being very sexually not advanced and insecure, [90s hardcore] was the perfect place for me, because I could ignore [sexuality]. I was getting older, I don’t know, I wanted to explore myself more. So I began to write these graphic sex stories. My roommate, Mitch, knew about it, and I remember him getting a kick out of it. [source: Turned Out A Punk #127: Joanna Angel (Burning Angel)]

For another salient example, Geoff Rickly of Thursday has spoken about his own struggles with the hardcore scene’s repression, especially in regards to the shame he felt about writing sexually explicit stories for pay:

Geoff Rickly: You have to think, this is the 90s punk scene. It's not now. Nobody would openly talk about sex in DIY punk. It was such a repressed PC time, where — I mean, a lot of that stuff is my heart, like the political activism that was still such a part of punk, and actually just giving a shit about things that matter, and modes of how you're doing what you're doing. Those things seemed to matter back then, and I appreciated that side, but it was also so uptight. So repressed. [source: Going Off Track: Geoff Rickly, 2012]

While its general aversion to sexuality might have been born out of an initial desire to reform the violent misogyny of other hardcore cultures, it created the conditions for certain social problems to go completely unaddressed. After all, how can you address the rampant misogyny, homophobia, and sexual violence in your community if any acknowledgement of sexuality is taboo?

(For a brief but interesting perspective on the impact of hardcore sexual repression upon queer people in the scene, check out Episode #4 of Geoff Rickly’s podcast Dark Blue, in which Steve Pedulla and Norman Brannon discuss their experiences as gay musicians in the scene.)

Of course, these issues aren’t confined to the New Jersey hardcore, nor were they unique to the late 1990s. This particular brand of sex-averse misogyny reflects important threads within the feminism of the time which villainized open female sexuality—especially when it concerned sex work. Left-leaning spaces like music undergrounds adopted this sex-negative, misogynistic attitude as a part of their feminism—not in opposition to it.

In particular, the Riot Grrrl movement of the late 80s/early 90s pushed back against a culture (and a subculture) that shamed women for publicly expressing their sexuality. Following that, early fanzines and performance practices addressed the mistreatment of sex workers in hardcore as one way that female bodily autonomy was limited and women’s bodies were policed. Bikini Kill frontwoman and Riot Grrrl pioneer Kathleen Hanna has spoken about her past in sex work, the hostility she endured for openly discussing it, and the importance of that experience in shaping the form of Riot Grrrl’s protest. 

Kathleen Hanna: “Whenever we were written about in the press, I wanted my sex-work history to be part of the description, because I wanted other women whom I danced at clubs with (and who never knew my real name) to see themselves reflected in some way. A lot of women who are doing music now have been sex-trade workers, prostitutes, dancers; I thought it was really important that I didn’t hide that. But I also didn’t want to glamorize that experience in being a super-cool thing in itself. I just wanted other women who work in the sex industry to remember that we can be sex-trade workers and be philosophers, writers, musicians, artists, or whatever. [Andrea Juno, Angry Women in Rock (1996)]

Riot Grrrl gained significant traction and nation-wide attention. In the decade or so after Kathleen Hanna and her peers catalyzed the movement, bands like Bikini Kill and Bratmobile remained incredibly popular, and likely contributed a lot to shifting attitudes towards sexuality in music subcultures. 

Still, these sex-negative attitudes prevailed among enough people involved in local underground scenes that, when Burning Angel launched in 2002 and Joanna started marketing it in local hardcore spaces, the site received a lot of attention—both good and bad. The positive attention fueled the site and allowed it to expand beyond just photographs, text interviews, and low-budget personal sex tapes that characterized its early content. 

However, the negative attention Joanna and her site received was vocal, targeted, and occasionally involved literal physical violence. As Kathleen Hanna had faced moral condemnation for her time in sex work, Joanna Angel faced criticism from fellow members of her subculture who thought sex work to be completely antithetical to their social justice goals. She has spoken about how difficult it was to see a community she had cared about for years turn her back on her completely for engaging in a type of work that she found enjoyable, and that she thought could be done with moral integrity. 

Joanna Angel: People were calling me ugly, calling me all sorts of mean shit, how [Burning Angel was] making a profit, [we were] exploiting women, blah blah blah. And I was so bummed. I was like, you know, this isn’t fair! I always support every fucking band in the punk scene. Even if I don’t like the band, I support them—I go to their shows, I would hand out fliers for their shows. I thought it was like a code, in the punk scene, that it doesn’t matter whether you like it or not. If this is part of the scene, you accept it, and you help it, and you love it—and I thought that’s what you were supposed to do. I remember being very hurt, you know? I was like, dude, I didn’t violate any punk laws by starting this. My friend from my computer class is the one who put it online. All the other girls on the site—all three of them— were punk chicks and part of the scene. And I felt really bad; people were insulting the other girls, and I really thought I was starting this cool thing where girls could just explore their sexuality. And mind you, at the time, the beginning of Burning Angel was just photos, not even videos. People were getting all up in this upheaval because of a handful of naked photos on the internet. It’s crazy to think about now. [source: Turned Out A Punk #127: Joanna Angel (Burning Angel)]

Amidst the mounting antagonism and after an incident at Hellfest 2004, Joanna officially decided to leave the hardcore scene that she’d been involved with for over five years.

Joanna Angel: I remember going to Hellfest one year. Maybe it was like 2004?…these girls were throwing water balloons at us because we had a booth there. Because we used to get booths at some of these shows and sell tshirts. We didn’t even have any DVDs—we’d literally get in a booth and sell tshirts and hand out fliers and stickers. And these other girls were throwing water balloons at us and calling us sluts. I was like, “Hey, that sucks, can you stop doing that?” And one of my friends—he owned a record label. He owned Eyeball Records, Alex…he saw the girls picking on us, and he went over to the girls, and said, “Hey, can you cool it? They have a booth here—let them do their thing. They’re not gonna get in your way.” And then those girls and their boyfriends beat him up, and he wound up in the hospital. He almost died. It was terrible. And I was like, we have to get out here. Let’s just stay away. If we’re a porn site, let’s just be a porn site. Let’s promote ourselves with other porn companies; let’s step away for a little while. Everyone in the punk scene knows who we are. They’ve made their decision about if they like us or not. I’m still gonna interview bands, still gonna do that thing—but I’m done. [source: Turned Out A Punk #127: Joanna Angel (Burning Angel)]

Joanna and Burning Angel’s separation from the NJ hardcore scene in 2004 finally brings me to Burning Angel: The Movie, My Chemical Romance, and that interview.

So, 2004: after over two years spent largely behind the camera and slowly expanding her porn site, Joanna finally decided to get in front of the camera and produce a more intentionally crafted alt porn video that retained the feel of the website. Thus Burning Angel: the Movie was born. 

As Joanna explains in the interview, the general idea of the DVD was that different self-contained pornographic scenes would be interspersed with band interviews. One of the key features of Burning Angel, like Suicide Girls before it, was the band interviews subscribers could access alongside the porn, so it made sense to preserve this aspect of the site on the DVD experience. Joanna interviewed five bands in early 2005: Killswitch Engage, Eighteen Visions, Shadows Fall, The Dillinger Escape Plan, and, of course, My Chemical Romance—all bands that Joanna admired, and who had been involved in the same scene that she had recently left because of very real threats to her emotional and physical well-being.

Within this context, My Chemical Romance’s decision to participate in the Burning Angel interview was a statement, as they put their support behind an enterprise that was highly controversial within the social circle most immediately relevant to them. 

Fresh off the 2004 Warped Tour and promoted Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge, My Chemical Romance might have appeared to be largely divorced from their scene of origin, but they still acted in response to those politics—politics that impacted American culture at large more than you’d think—in both intentional and incidental ways. 

That is not to say that MCR was being overtly political; they’ve made a clear effort to distance themselves from the clear-cut political imagery and goals of some of their peers in hardcore. Still, the band (Gerard especially) very obviously cared a lot about using their music and stage presence to express shades of sexuality that they perceived to be lacking from some forms of music.

Gerard: I also wanted, at the same time, [for] the record to be a testament to self-expression, and putting stuff in there like that, while not being a homosexual myself, but expressing myself in a homosexual way, is either going to push your buttons in a negative way or you’re going to identify with it. [AP: Well, this whole scene wants you to be sensitive, but not too sensitive.] It is extremely homoerotic, especially the whole emo-sensitive thing. Everyone’s wearing women’s pants; everyone’s got women’s haircuts; everyone’s wearing youth-medium shirts. I don’t want to come out and say it. It’s blatantly obvious. Wearing a leather jacket is an extremely masculine thing to do in this scene. Even the hardcore bands, the really hard ones, you see them in makeup and stuff. I like that. I think it keeps it dangerous. It keeps it exciting. In a way, sex has really been missing from rock, especially because of all the sensitivity. That’s what I really wanted to convey on the record, too. I wanted the record to be very dangerous and sexy at the same time. There’s such a lack of sex in music. It’s been more about getting in touch with your feelings and being there for each other, which is great, but it’s definitely lacking this sexual duality. [Source: Alternative Press #193, Aug 2004; emphasis mine]

Additionally, many of their moments of explicit sexuality on stage were designed to be somewhat incendiary and polarizing. 

But it’s important to remember that, just as late 90s New Jersey hardcore was not the first subculture with issues of sexual repression, My Chemical Romance does not represent the first attempt to push back at this asexual culture and definitely weren’t leading that particular conversation. Gerard took inspiration from artists already pushing those boundaries and incorporating sexual expression into their art. He has spoken, for example, about the impact of Riot Grrrl acts upon his music and stage presence (Joanna Angel has similarly pointed to bands like Bikini Kill as significant influences). These bands had already incorporated resistance against harmful sexual repression, values which Gerard and his band mates took on when they adopted their styles into My Chemical Romance.

(I also want to mention briefly that other significant people in the hardcore world have spoken out against pornography, such as Ian MacKaye of the formative post-hardcore band Fugazi. MacKaye owned Dischord Records, the definitive underground music label, to which a young Frank Iero unsuccessfully attempted to get his band Sector 12 signed. The matter of pornography and its role within the hardcore world was not one upon which you could maintain a neutral stance after, say, appearing on a porn DVD.)

As shitty as it was that they needed approval from the men in the scene, My Chemical Romance, along with other bands, supported Burning Angel, a new kind of porn, and helped legitimize Joanna Angel’s claim that what she was doing was not backwards or exploitative but had integrity. 

Have you had an issue with people you grew up with when they find out you're in the adult industry? Joanna: At first people had problem[s], but not anymore. Once the cool kids in bands said, "I think what she's doing is cool" all the others turned around. Everyone I ever respected didn't have an issue with it and all the stupid, annoying hardcore kids had a problem. For as much shit as I got, I also got a lot of support. [Source: Hustlerworld Interview: Joanna Angel]

I don’t mean to glamorize the porn industry or to depict Joanna Angel as some savior of female sexuality in the early 2000s. But, as Kathleen Hanna points out, sex work is legitimate work, and sex workers deserve to have workplaces that treat them with dignity and communities that recognize their humanity. The reality was that NJ hardcore as a community did not support sex workers. Fundamentally, these were the barriers that caused Joanna and Burning Angel to make an exodus from the local hardcore scene—and they are the attitudes we risk reproducing when we express discomfort that a band we admire has interacted with a sex worker.

My intentions with this post (which turned out longer than I had ever anticipated, so Jesus, thank you for reading) were to shed light on the historical context of one moment in My Chemical Romance’s history. I’ve found that the average MCR fan, even those with a specific fondness for their early years, doesn’t actually know much at all about it—so I hope this has given some clarity.

I’ll end on this note: Without bands supporting Burning Angel, who knows—we might have never seen the lemon stealing whore. At the very least, the culture surrounding porn would look a lot different. That might not mean it would look better or worse—though you can’t deny the role that Joanna Angel played, nor the role that bands from the New Jersey Hardcore scene like My Chemical Romance played in shaping the American culture of pornography. 

Find sources for this post here.

[acknowledgements: thank you so much for reading! my forever thanks, as always, to nic @raytorosaurus, sophia @sendmyresignation, vyn @bringmoreknives, and maddy @8thnotes for their continued cheerleading as i spent over a month writing this long, long post. additional thanks to wes @killrockstar for very kindly offering some incredibly helpful guidance about riot grrrl and sending me resources about kathleen hanna. and much gratitude to merlin @void-flesh and @transmascfrankiero for their feedback on the final draft of this essay.]

[crucifiedfaerie]

Gibson Girl | Pt. 1 ༉₊˚✧

Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

➴ Summary: After a run in with the Supreme Leader, he can't seem to get you out of his head- or leave you alone.

➴ Song: Gibson Girl - Ethel Cain

➴ Part Two | Part Three

➴ Word Count: 3.4k

➴ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, dom!kylo, kinda slowburn ??, kylo is kinda really manipulative, stalker!kylo, um he's right behind me isn't he?, the mask STAYS ON, how does he not get hot in there ??, mean!kylo to soft!kylo, alcohol plus unbalanced power dynamic so dubcon, SMUT (unprotected PiV sex, fingering, hitting, slight sadist!kylo, degrading, scratching, a teeny tiny bit of blood- nothing serious), fluff if you squint, angst if you squint harder, typos and me being illiterate probably

➴ Taglist: ( @enviedear )

A/N: i haven't written a fic in a good four years so apologies if my writing is a little rusty. my partner and i have been watching the starwars movies and the kylo ren brainrot is so real. i need him expeditiously !! i've also been reobsessed with ethel cain recently and gibson girl is sooo kylo coded so i was inspired to write. i really hope you like it, if the response to this is good i might consider making a part two possibly ?? i do have a few other fic ideas for kylo/ben that are stirring around in my brain sooo im excited to share those eventually

It seems as though you've seen the Supreme Leader around more times in the past two weeks than you ever had in the two years you've been working as a technician on the Finalizer. Like a shadow clad in metal and black leather, he seemed to follow you.

It started two weeks ago with an honest mistake. You had woken up late that morning. Rushing out of your chambers and down the hall, you turned the corner a little too quickly, fearing youd be late to work.

When you crashed into him, you thought you had run into durasteel, the way he didn't move an inch. You, however, bounced backwards, hitting the ground and sending the toolbox in your hands flying.

It wasn't until the air that was knocked from your lungs had returned that you realized this dark mass was not made of durasteel. Sitting on the floor, your eyes trailed from the boots in front of you up to the dark expressionless mask you knew only belonged to the most feared man in the galaxy. Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order.

At this realization you scrambled to your feet, picking up your tools as you went and fervently apologizing. You did want to keep your head attached to your shoulders, after all.

"Supreme Leader- I- my apologies sir! I didn't see you th-"

Your string of incoherent apologies was cut short by him wordlessly lifting a gloved hand to silence you. With wide eyes you stared at him as he lowered his hand, bending down to pick up the wrench you had dropped on his boot in the commotion.

He placed it in the toolbox that shook as you tightly grasped it. As he pulled away the leather of his glove brushed against your bare hand, sending a chill down your spine.

He stood there, staring down at you. Past the near-blinding glint of the cold hallway lights bouncing off the dark metal of his mask, you could see your own mortified expression in the reflection of his visor. Your gaze flickered down to the hilt of the saber he kept on his hip and you winced at the mental image of that crimson colored plasma beam he could send shooting through your abdomen at any moment.

Oh gods, im done for. Any second now.

You were pulled from the morbid thoughts of your impending demise by his deep, modulated voice.

"Do not be late." He said sternly, not a speck of emotion behind his words.

You nodded quickly, "Yes Supreme Leader, I- thank you sir!"

You ran down the hall and as you turned the corner, for a split second you saw he had turned to face your direction. Despite that cold mask, you could feel his eyes on you, burning holes through it.

In the days that followed, he began to frequently make small appearances in your life and that feeling of a pair of mystery eyes on you became a familiar sensation. Whether you were eating in the cafeteria, working through a tangle of wires behind a control panel, or simply walking down a hallway, you'd feel your stomach drop. When you looked around there he would be, a creature in a mask, staring you down from afar. After averting your gaze, pretending you didn't notice him, he would continue on and disappear into the darkness of the Finalizer.

To say you were scared of him was an understatement. Was this just an elaborate plan to kill you for dropping your wrench on his foot last week? It couldn't be. If he wanted you dead he would have sliced you in half in the hallway, gods know he's done it to people before.

Fear wasnt the only thing he made you feel. As you knelt on the floor, trying to run a diagnostic test on the navigational software, your mind wandered to who could possibly be underneath that expressionless mask and modulated voice. Was he really the terrifying creature everyone rumored him to be? Or was there a real human under there? A human man with pretty eyes and rough hands from years of training. You let your mind wander to how they would feel in your-

Your thought was cut short by the hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

When you turned around he was so close you jumped and dropped your datapad on the floor. The cracking noise made your heart sink. He was standing right behind you, looming over your small frame that was crouched on the ground. He stared down at you, his masked head tilted as if he were pondering something.

"Supreme Leader. W-what do I owe this pleasure?" You managed to choke out.

Kylo reached out a hand to you, and you obliged, your trembling hand dwarfed by his own. The stiff leather of his glove gripped you tightly, lifting you up to stand in front of him.

The modulator in his mask crackled as he spoke "No need to be so terrified, little star." He chuckled a bit but his usual sternness was still present. "I've only come to ask for you to join me in my quarters tonight..." He paused, "you intrigue me."

Your brain went foggy at the sweet nickname he gave you and it felt as though you might pass out at the thought of being invited to his room. Never had you seen Kylo Ren be so kind to anyone, so why you? Your face flushed with pink as you tried to find the right words to say.

"Intrigue you? Sir I can assure you there's nothing intriguing about me, I'm just a techn-"

"Nonsense." He leaned down to get eye level with you, his helmet inches from your face. "I expect you to be there tonight after lights out. When I want something I do not take no for an answer... and I always take what I want." His voice was dead serious but you could almost hear the smirk that was under his visor.

He released your hand from his tight grip and took a step back from you. With a swift turn, he walked down the hall, not giving you a chance to respond. You stood there stunned for a moment then sank down the durasteel wall, reeling from what just happened.

Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader of the First Order, wanted you in his quarters. Tonight. After lights out.

Later that night, as you were getting ready, you felt like you weren't even in your own body. When you looked at the clock and saw it was 10 minutes until lights out you thought you might throw up from nervousness.

What do you even wear to see the Supreme Leader in his quarters at midnight? Oh gods I'm gonna pass out.

When you were finally satisfied with how you looked, you took a deep breath and exited your chambers. The cold quiet of the flagship's hallways sent a shiver down your spine.

What am I doing? Why would he invite me here? I should just turn around and go back to my quarters.

Your legs felt like Andorian jelly as they moved you down the dark, secluded hallway towards the front of the Finalizer. You ask yourself so many questions as you attempt to suppress every nerve in your body. He was terrifying, but there was something alluring about him, something so... attractive. Something that made you feel like a small insect being lured into a spiders web. And you liked it?

Once you reached the end of the hallway, you realize it's a dead end. The tall, dark double doors enlaid with silver told you this was probably his door.

Do I knock?

Before you could even finish your thought, they opened, seemingly on their own.

The familiar crackle of his modified voice called out to you sternly, "Come in."

You obliged, taking a deep breath before you stepped into his quarters. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the warmth of the fireplace. As you looked around, his space was about what you expected it to be, minimalistic and decorated in hues of red and black, but grand enough for a Supreme Leader.

And there he was, sitting in a red lounge chair in front of the fireplace. You saw him pick something up off the coffee table before he stood and approached you.

"I can sense your nervousness, little star. Take this and come with me." Kylo handed you a glass of whiskey before taking your other hand and leading you back towards the fireplace, motioning for you to sit in the chair across from his.

As you sat, holding the glass in one hand and feeling the velvet cushion beneath you with the other you realized you hadn't said a word to him yet.

"Supreme Leader sir, its an honor to have been invited here by you. Your quarters are... magnificent."

He chuckled. "I'm glad you like it, but there's no need to bother with honorifics when you're here. You may call me Kylo."

"K-Kylo..." You tested out his name, unsure if he was being serious.

This has to be a dream. This cant be real. He can't be-

He nodded, speaking as he poured another glass of whiskey for himself. "I invited you here only to get to know each other. It would be rude of me to expect my guest to be so formal with me."

You felt your face get hot and you look at the floor illuminated by the fire. "Apologies if this is too forward... but how can we get to know each other if I dont even know what you look like?"

I shouldn't have said that. Surely he'll kill me for even asking. Stupid. Stupid.

He fell silent for a moment and stared at you. You internally panicked, thinking your forwardness had angered him.

You've really done it this time.

Kylo reached up and you heard a click followed by a quiet hiss emitted from his helmet. Pulling the helmet up slightly, he revealed the bottom half of his face, and oh gods was he beautiful. His dark locks fell down and brushed his jaw which looked as if it had been carved from marble, and you think you caught the beginnings of a scar lining it.

"Compromise." He flashed a dark smile before taking a sip from his glass. Kylo's unmodulated voice was smooth and deep, a sound you could find yourself getting used to hearing. You watched his Adam's apple move as he swallowed the dark liquor down.

After setting his glass back on the table, Kylo lowered his helmet and clicked it back into place.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head since our run in. You interest me so much." He mused.

You sighed shakily. "I dont mean to disappoint you s- Kylo, but there isn't much that is interesting about me or my life. Especially here on the Finalizer, most of my days tend to be the same."

You had taken only a few sips of your drink but your head was already getting foggy.

He ignored what you said, seemingly more eager to tell you something he's been wanting to say for two weeks now. "Your mind is what intrigues me most. I can hear them, your thoughts, and they are so loud." You could almost hear the smirk on his face.

He what.

"You what?" You choke out, your face going bright red.

No. no no no.

He chuckled darkly. "No need to be embarrassed, little star. I enjoy listening to your thoughts of me. How late at night you think about my hands groping your body. How you fantasize about being immoral in a complete stranger's lap. How right now you're thinking about me hurting you..." He paused, "I cannot lie to you, my thoughts have been plagued with yours for weeks now. Thats why I invited you here, so I could show you everything you wish you had."

You tried to speak, but couldn't find the words. Your face was flushed with pink and the whiskey was starting to take its toll on your thinking skills.

He stood from his chair and stepped towards you, taking the glass from your hand and setting it down on the table next to his. Towering over you, he leant down closer to you. His gloved hand lightly trailed down your face and snaked it's way behind your neck, his fingers weaving through your hair. He tightened his grasp and pulled down, forcing you to look up at him.

"Tell me, sweet thing. Are you scared of me right now?" He already knew the answer but wanted to hear it.

You nodded, looking up at him with wide eyes. "Y-yes Kylo."

"Good." He said coldly. The tone of his voice changed, as if his sweetness earlier was simply a ruse to lure you in. He pulled you up by your hair to stand, and in one swift motion he had you thrown over his shoulder.

He carried you away down a dark hallway, the light from the fireplace growing dimmer and more distant as he took you deeper into his quarters.

Like a little insect caught in a spider's web.

Once he entered his room, Kylo threw you on his bed carelessly, nearly knocking the air from your lungs.

He immediately went to work on your clothes, pulling your shirt and pants off, almost ripping them in the process. You were left only in your underwear, writhing from the heat growing in your core.

Kylo admired your body, running his cold, leather clad hands along your thighs roughly, spreading your legs. He had been waiting for weeks to do this. The seam of his glove brushed across your clothed clit, causing you to let out a whine.

"Such a pretty voice... I want to hear more of it." He said sternly before pulling your underwear to the side and running two gloved fingers down your folds, coating them in your slick. You gasped at the contact.

Without warning Kylo pushed his fingers inside your entrance, curling his fingers upwards causing your back to arch. As he pumped his fingers into your cunt, he went to work on your clit with his thumb. His other hand snaked its way up your body, stopping once it was wrapped tightly around your neck.

Waves of pleasure washed over you as he stretched you out with his fingers. You felt your climax quickly approaching "Please- sir. Please m'gonna-"

He pulled his hand away and you groaned at how empty you now felt. You rubbed your legs together to get a little bit of friction, but were halted by the sharp sting of his hand coming down on your thigh. You let out a loud yelp.

"Needy little slut." He raised one hand and an invisible force spread your legs fully and froze your entire body in place, while his other hand worked to undo his belt. "You don't get to cum until I say you can, understand?"

You only whined in response. He slapped you hard and grabbed your face forcefully, leaning down closer to you, his visor millimeters from your face. "Say it. say it!"

"Mhmm yes sir I understand!" You whined loudly. Your face stung and you could taste copper.

He let go of your face and finished freeing his cock. You nearly pass out from the sight of it.

Oh gods help me, how is that supposed to fit?

He chuckled at your thought as he lined himself up at your entrance "Don't worry little star, we'll make it fit." He said evilly before pushing inside, watching you as your face contorted from the pain and pleasure of his cock splitting you open.

You nearly scream, letting out a choked whine as he bottomed out, pressing forcefully on that bundle of nerves deep inside you. You tried to adjust to his size but without any warning he withdrew himself before slamming back into you again.

His thrusts were erratic, unrelenting on that sensitive spot, hitting it with every snap of his hips.

"F-fuck... Kylo- you're gonna make m-me cum." You whined, feeling tears prick your eyes as you were reaching your breaking point.

He reached up and grabbed your throat, squeezing, which made your head feel lighter. "Shut the fuck up and hold it." He said coldly. It sounded like a whisper coming from the modulator of his mask.

He pounded into you with such power, and it sent shockwaves rippling through your body. You screamed as he thrusted into you, showing not a speck of mercy on your much smaller frame.

Kylo felt your walls twitching around him. "You wanna cum so bad don't you?" He cooed, feigning sympathy for you.

You nodded your head desperately.

"Beg for it then. Beg to cum on my cock and I might just let you." He growled.

"P-Please-" You whimpered, on the verge of tears.

"I said beg!" Kylo struck the side of your face again, harder this time.

"Please! Please let me cum Kylo!" You cried.

He let out a satisfied groan, gripping your hair and tugging to make you look up more. "Go ahead then, little star. Cum for me." You could hear the smirk behind his mask.

An invisible hand went to work on your clit as he continued to ram into you with unrelenting speed. This sent you over the edge, the tight feeling in your abdomen burst as a wave of euphoria washed over your body. You dug your nails into Kylo's back. Despite him being clothed, you know you did it hard enough to draw blood. You heard him wince but the raw pleasure he was inflicting on your body was too much for you to care about that.

He's cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed.

His thrusts became sloppy and harder as he neared his own release. He had come completely undone, his emotionless façade gone as he whispered sweet nothings and strings of curse words through his mask.

"Fuck-" He said your name, lingering on it, drawing it out in a sickly sweet way. "Gods- your body- its so- I'm in love with it. Fuck."

A few thrusts later, Kylo buried himself inside you to the hilt one last time, bottoming out and groaning as he pumped your cunt full of his cum.

You felt his cock twitch inside you as he looked down at you, hands pressed into the bed on either side of your head and breathing heavily through his modulator.

Kylo pulled out as he stood up and you felt his cum leak out of you and down your thigh onto the bed. You watched as he tucked himself back into his trousers and redo his belt. He went into the refresher attached to his bedroom to retrieve a towel and you felt the bed dip when he returned.

He wiped his cum away gently with the towel and you yelped from the sudden overstimulation.

"Shhh" he cooed, still stern. "I'm only trying to help." Kylo threw the towel to the floor and sat on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. He pulled you closer to him so your head rested in his lap. You watched as he pulled his gloves off for the first time and you took a mental note of how strong his hands looked.

He ran his long fingers through your hair and you sighed, closing your eyes. "I could get used to this." You said sleepily.

The last thing you heard before you succumbed to sleep was, "Me too, little star." Even through the crackle of his modulator, it almost sounded like he was deep in thought.

When you awoke in his bed the next morning, Kylo was gone. As you rolled to the side of the bed, you could still smell him on his bedsheets.

On the bed next to you was a black box wrapped in red ribbon, with a note attached. You opened it and inside was a new datapad, with a fresh, uncracked screen. The note read: "Little star, apologies for the broken datapad. I expect you'll be here when I return later. -K.R."

You smiled as you sunk your head back into his pillows.

[filthy-baee]

eddie fucking reader in his bedroom and they’re sooooooo loud bc wayne’s at work but OH! no he’s not at work! he got home earlier than usually! and he hears everyyyyythingggggg

next morning at breakfast he gives them a condom „i can’t afford another child“

Note: Pffff this is way too funny! I remember my dad saying something like this to me when I was younger and I had my first boyfriend. I changed it a little bit, but I hope that's okay for you. Thanks a lot for requesting! 💕 | English isn't my first language, so there will be some grammar errors. Not proofread!

Red as a tomato

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: smut, MDNI, 18+, oral (f reciving), petnames, daddy kink, ball gag, bondage (hand cuffs), fingering, squirting, biting, dirty talk, crying, getting walked in on, if I forgot something please tell me

Y/N's skin was glistening from the sheen of sweat that formed on her body. Eddie was between her legs, laping at her wet folds. A small patch of wetness has began to form under her ass. As Eddies fingers found her aching hole she tried to wiggle away, her third orgasm of the night slowly beginning to build in her stomach. "Mmhg!" is the only thing Y/N can mumble with her mouth bound by a heartshaped gag. Eddie grinned at her, his breath fanning over her hot pussy. "Awww princess. Are you getting close again? For the third time this evening, right?" he mocked her, slowly circling her wet folds with his fingers. Eddies finger entered her hole slowly pumping in and out of it. Y/N tried to close her legs, the feeling becoming too much for her. "I asked you a question, princess." Eddie mumbled forcefully opening her legs even more, licking a fat stripe from his fingers to her clit.

"Yesh, daddy": she mumbled out, spit dripping down on her face. Her hands were bound above her head tightly with Eddie's handcuffs. They start to shake as Eddie starts his chicane again. He pumped three of his thick fingers into her tight cunt, the room being filled with the squeeking sounds of her pussy and the slurping from Eddie's mouth.

Y/N starts to shake uncontrollably, her wrists rattling against the headboard. "Hold it a little longer, princess." he came up to her, whispering into her neck as his thumb drew tight circles on her puffy clit.

Her pussy tightend around his fingers and he knew Y/N was close. "You want to come, princess? Be a good girl and...cum!" As the last word left Eddie's mouth Y/N came around his fingers, squirting on his bed and on his hand. Eddie bit into her neck, making her orgasm even harder. Y/N's mouth escaped a loud moany scream, her body trembling.

Suddenly the door opened with a forceful swing! Y/N looked at Eddie in shock, as she couldn't see who opened the door, she only saw Eddie's blown pupils looking directly into hers.

"Kiddos! Is everything-?!" As Wayne saw the scenario right in front of his eyes, he couldn't believe what he just saw. His eyes met shortly with Y/N's shoked ones, as Eddie turned around to face his uncle. He holds his hands in front of his eyes, trying to get rid of the image now burned into his brain. "Oh, Jesus Christ!" Wayne screamed. Eddie tried to cover up as much of Y/N as possible with his own body, but Wayne saw everything. The cuffs, the gag, the whole thing that went on.

"Wayne! Get out!" Eddie yelled, throwing a blanket over Y/N's naked body. Y/N couldn't move away, but if she could she would jump through the window and run. This has to be the most embarrissing moment in her life! Her cheeks were a deep red and small tears formed at the corners of her eyes. Eddie looked down at her for a second, before he heard the door close again, followed by a loud "Sorry guys! Just...calm down a little!" from Wayne. It all happened so fast but for Y/N it still felt like a eternity. This was awful. Both thought that Wayne was out the whole night working and they didn't even hear him open the front door.

"What the...?" Eddie mumbled and looked down at his poor girlfriend. Tears rolled down her blushy cheeks and her mouth was shaking around the gag. " Sorry! Wait-!" Eddie said as he opened the cuffs for her and her hands fall in front of her face. She tried to hide behind them, too embarrassed to even look at Eddie. She opened the gag, spit covering her cheeks and chin. Y/N curled up into a ball, throwing the blanket over her whole body and face, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hey, baby...It-It's okay. He didn't see anything." Eddie tried to sooth her, coming closer to her and rubbing her back with his still wet hand. "Don't lie, Eddie! He saw everything! We even had eyecontact!" Y/N whined, trying to wiggle away from his touch. Her nose was runny, her voice barely there. Eddie sighed, coming closer and crawling under the blanket with her. He was still fully clothed, his jeans rough against her hot skin. He pulled her closer and Y/N hid in his chest, drying her tears with his band shirt. Eddie carefully stroked her hair, pulling her even more into his body. He kissed her forehead, a calming hand on her back. "It's not the end of the world. I mean- he knows what we are up to...you are loud enough." he tried to lighten the mood a little, making a small smile appear on her lips. "Yeah, but- but he never saw iiiiit." she sobbed, letting the last word out in a annoyed tone. "It's okay, baby. Come here." Eddie said, rubbing her back and pulling her up, so she laid on him, her arm on his chest.

Eddie patted her head, telling her sweet nothings into her ear, as she slowly drifted away to sleep. She was done for the night, not only because of the encounter with Wayne but also the orgasms Eddie pulled from her one after another. As she peacefully slept in his arms, Eddie tried to wiggle away from her grip, but it was no use. Her hand was curled up fisting his already loose shirt, one leg swung over his hips. He could still feel the wetness from between her legs on his jeans. His cock twitched in his tight pants and it took everything in him, to not wake her again for some fun. He knew she wouldn't want it right now, as she was too sleepy and still uncomfortable because of this whole situation. Eddie also felt a little tired and he slowly fell asleep too.

The next morning he woke up still in the same position, but Y/N laid on him with her whole body, caging him in under her. Eddie let out a small laugh, she was just too cute.

He pulled her softly off of him, giving her a pillow, so she could cuddle with something else. He pecked her cheek and went off to the kitchen, to get him something to drink.

Wayne was awake, a small coffeecup in front of him. "Morning, boy." he mumbled, also still tired. Wayne felt uneasy, still thinking about the weird encounter last night. He fumled with something in his hand and got up to Eddie, who was at the kitchen sink, pouring himself a coffee too.

"Boy, uhm. Take these for the next time." Wayne holds a pack of condoms up to Eddie's face. Eddies face grew red, as he grabs the condoms out of his hand. Before Eddie could say anything, Wayne said again "I know what those stains are on your bed. Please, for the love of god, use some condoms, Edward. I can't afford a second child."

Eddie's face grew as red as a tomato and he just nodded and pushed the condoms into his backpocket, fleeing from the scene with his coffee in his shaky hands. He closed his bedroom door behind him, letting out a loud breath, he didn't even know he was holding in. Y/N left her head from her pillow, her hair a hot mess. Her still sleepy eyes met Eddie's gaze. A small smile formed on his lips.

"You were right. He saw everything." Eddie said as he pointed on the now dry stains on his bed. Y/N buried her face in the pillow again, but Eddie could still see a small grin on her face.

[crushmeeren]

Crowley/Fem Reader/Aziraphale

Warnings; Bottom! Crowley, Top! Aziraphale, my version of Soft Dom! Reader, Anal Sex, Rimming, Vaginal Sex, Female Anatomy/Pronouns, Reader does wear a strap on!

Note; I wrote this entire thing as a request and I FUCKING FORGOT TO MAKE THE READER A DEMON, IM SORRY REQUESTOR 😭 I hope you and everyone else still enjoy 🥲

AO3 Link; Escapades🪽

Word Count; 6.2k

It always starts the same way. Crowley stumbles upon a new sexual escapade he wants the three of you to experience in the bedroom. Then the sneaky bastard riles up you and Aziraphale, way too easily if you’re being honest, and then three of you end up tumbling into the bedroom. You’re learning, way too late into the evening, that Crowley had been made aware of what pegging is. The red headed demon absolutely got more than a little drunk with Nina and Maggie last night, and consequently ended up with more details of their sex life than he wanted.

The only part he couldn’t shake off, was when they mentioned the pegging, and how mind blowing the experience can be. They talked about how ridiculously hot it can be, not to mention how good it feels, having your female partner, who doesn’t naturally have a dick, fuck you with more or less a cock of their own.

As soon as the the images flashed behind his eyes, he felt his cheeks burn. He took a sip of his scotch and he felt warmth spread through his belly pleasurably. He knows it’s not from the alcohol and for fucks sake, he just couldn’t resist being interested, the idea stuck to his brain like glue. It stayed with him the entire night. He, with extreme difficulty, was able to keep himself from getting rock hard that night. The thought of your smaller frame underneath him threatening to send blood rushing south.

That would’ve been too embarrassing if he spontaneously had to leave his impromptu drinking session with the girls because he couldn’t get his boner to go away. Truthfully, he had thought about being fucked by you often. Thinking about getting railed by you made his dick throb involuntarily. He knows the Angel wants it as well. He and Aziraphale had spoken about it, in great detail, before. He’d even had the Angel wrap a hand around his cock, whisper sweet nothings into his ear about you fucking him until he’d cum so hard his sticky release had hit him in the face.

Surprisingly enough, the two of them had never heard of or come across pegging before, leading them to believe it was never going to be an option. The fact that it was, is the reason Crowley showed up eagerly late the next day at the bookshop with a fucking strap on in his hands. You attempt to burn holes in his skull as your gaze flickers between the item in his hand and his smug looking face. Your eye twitches.

“Pegging?” you ask in disbelief, eyebrow raised as you cross your arms and push out one of your hips. Warmth pools in your belly at the mention of it, it’s not like you haven’t thought about it before. They had never brought it up so you just assumed they weren’t interested in that. You can see you were clearly wrong.

The three of you are in the bookshop, Aziraphale at his desk, reading glasses on the bridge of his nose as he looks over one of his books about “the art of prestidigitation”, as he likes to call it. Once he saw what the demon was holding he immediately turned back to his desk and started to try extremely hard to pointedly not listen to the conversation that you and Crowley began having. He ignored the way his cheeks burned, and the butterflies that filled his belly when Crowley started talking.

“Yes love, ever heard of it?” Crowley replies in a teasing tone of voice, smirking as he takes his black glasses off, setting them down on a nearby surface. He turns to face you again, stretching out his arm to wiggle the strap on at you, fake dick and all bobbing about in the wind. You roll your eyes at him, before narrowing your gaze. Sometimes you can’t believe the blunt audacity Crowley has, but when he gets these ideas it usually works out in the end so you haven’t turned him down yet. Laughing incredulously, you tilt your head and you reply with just as much attitude.

“Yes, I’ve heard of it, I’m just surprised you haven’t, I didn’t realize you had that little experience Crowley.” Uncrossing your arms you place them on your hips. You smile with fake innocence and make eye contact with him. You see his smirk grow even wider as he tilts his head back in amused laughter. Eyes coming to rest on your face, Crowley steps closer to you, getting into your space and looking down at you.

You can feel some of the heat radiating from him and you resist the urge to blush. You stare up at him, not backing down. The demon wraps his warm, slim fingers around your hip, slipping his thumb under your shirt, softly rubbing the skin over the bone there. You bite your lip to hold back a soft moan and the air between the two of you starts to thicken like warm honey. Crowley trails a finger softly down your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as he leans closer, lips softly brushing your cheek before he whispers in your ear. The bastard knows what he’s doing and you fall for it every time.

“Well then, I suppose I’m gonna need you to show me what it means to get fucked hmm? My pretty goddess,” he coos, voice smooth and low as he kisses your earlobe, then he moves to press a kiss into the sensitive skin of your neck. The feeling of his breath tickling your skin as he mouths at your throat makes your body flush, warm arousal instantly shooting to your belly. You almost forgot the Angel was here when you and Crowley hear the sound of a page ripping and Aziraphale cursing softly in the background.

——————————————————

As you expected, Crowley is the most eager to get pegged first. The idea has been rolling around in his brain the most lately and he’s aching for it. Furthermore he’s a little shit who always gets what he wants. So Aziraphale, living up to his title as Angel once again, caves easily to the demons request. He really can’t say no to his pretty face. Crowley promises him he’ll reward him in return, whispering sweetly to him and kissing his cheeks as the two climb onto the bed.

You had decided to leave that decision up to the two of them, knowing nobody is going to get left out either way. Aziraphale really doesn’t mind, he knows no matter what he’s going to feel good. Whether it’s watching you and Crowley put on a show for him or he’s actively participating, he’s just so happy to be a part of it.

After you’ve flipped off the overhead light, you turn on a lamp in corner of the room. It glows a comforting soft yellow and makes the space feel much more intimate. Despite the soothing light, you unfortunately spent about 10 irritating minutes cursing and figuring out how to get the damn strap on hooked to your hips and under your thighs correctly. You walk over to stand at the end of the bed, near the edge as you finish securing it in place.

Aziraphale and Crowley are on the bed, completely bare as they kiss eagerly in front of you. You hum softly in approval as you listen to the slick sound of their lips meeting over and over. They are both raised up on their knees, facing each other, giving you a pretty picture of their side profiles as they make out. Aziraphale is holding Crowleys waist and in turn Crowley wraps his arms around the Angels neck. He plays with the soft white curls at the nape of Aziraphales neck and the Angel tugs Crowley closer into his chest by his hips.

You feel your pussy getting slick and it throbs beneath the strap on. Your teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your bottom lip. Gods, they just look so fucking hot together. They are your wet dream and you let your eyes trail up and down their bodies, noticing both of their flushed, hard cocks rubbing together with every tiny movement they make. The tips of their cocks shiny with precum as they continue to lightly thrust against each other. You have the urge to reach out and wrap one hand around both of them, feeling the warm, silky skin and jerking them off together. You file that thought away and save it for later.

You hear a soft groan, which you recognize comes from the demon and your eyes snap upwards to see he’s already looking at you. His yellow eyes watching you intensely. You realize he was trying to get your attention and you raise an eyebrow at him. He keeps eye contact with you and he smiles into the kiss with Aziraphale. Crowley makes sure you can see his forked tongue as he slips it into the Angels mouth, making Aziraphale gasp softly and open up easily for him.

Your pussy clenches around air and your fingers dig into your palm as you see their tongues roll together. Crowley turns his attention back to his heated kiss with the Angel, closing his eyes again. You notice Aziraphales cheeks are a pretty pink as they start to really get into it, Aziraphale digging his nails into the demons skin. They lean into each other and you see Crowleys hand start to trail down Aziraphales chest. He drags his nails over the Angels stomach, making a move to reach for the Angels cock.

“No,” you order him, quite casually, and his hand stops in its place. Crowley whines into Aziraphales mouth and breaks away from the kiss. The Angel pants and leans forward as if he’s chasing the demons lips. Turning his head to look at you, bottom lip sticking out, Crowley keeps his other hand perched on the Angels shoulder as his chest heaves. They both have a pretty flush and Aziraphale decides to rest his forehead against Crowleys shoulder.

“You’re no fun darling,” Crowley pouts, trying to give you wide, puppy eyes.

“Oh no, whatever shall I do?” you say sarcastically, fake gasping and bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. Crowley narrows his eyes playfully and sticks his tongue out at you. He pushes back from the Angels grip and Aziraphale sits back on his calves, hands continuing to rest gently on Crowleys lean waist. You get a sense that the demon is actively trying to push you as Crowleys cock twitches when he makes a show of running his hand down his chest, inching closer to his own dick. You know he’s definitely testing your patience on purpose, but you keep your face neutral when you speak. He knows you’re the one in charge here and you won’t give him the satisfaction of letting him see the flash of agitation that courses through you.

“Crowley,” you say warningly, voice low as you keep your eyes on his face. He freezes the movement of his hand and reluctantly rests both hands on Aziraphales shoulders. Crowleys behavior isn’t unusual though, as he usually tries to see how much he can tip toe the line before you punish him and it’s clear he just wants to act like a brat tonight. You sniff once and decide to ignore him, knowing it’ll piss him off. You look at Aziraphale, who gives you a sweet smile, letting his palms rest on the tops of his thighs now. You return the smile, feeling your love for the Angel blossom warmly in your chest. He’s such a good boy for you.

“Angel, you’ve been so good, you can relax for a moment, why don’t you come here and sit next to me,” you purr, praising him. He blushes and you see his pretty pink cock kick at your sweet praise. He eagerly nods his head and starts to move away from Crowley, who makes a noise of protest in response.

“Yes my love,” he replies obediently, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, close to you, with his feet on the floor. He leans his weight back on his hands as he angles his body slightly toward you. His cock leans against his lower belly, drooling slightly and he obeys the unspoken rule of not touching himself.

You reach over to run your fingers through the Angels soft hair once affectionately. You get a soft hum in return. Focusing back on Crowley you move your fingers in a come hither motion, waiting for Crowley to obey you. Surprisingly he does so without protest, crawling forward on his knees and then sitting on his haunches in front of you. You glance at Aziraphale, making sure he’s watching. You know it turns the Angel on, he loves to witness you be more dominant, especially when it’s directed at the demon. Your eyes meet his pretty blue ones and you wink at him, smiling cheekily. The Angel feels a thrill tingle down his spine.

You turn your gaze back to Crowley, who seems to be annoyed he didn’t have your undivided attention. You giggle at his expression, which makes his cheeks turn red. His pretty lips tug into a scowl. You smile, not kindly, and bring your hand up, wrapping your fingers around his jaw tightly, forcing his head straight to look into your eyes. Your fingers press into his warm skin and his snake like eyes widen a bit, tracking back and forth. You make a tsk sound and shake your head softly in disappointment. He watches you, his eyes half lidded. You bend closer, getting into his face and you whisper menacingly, eyes sharp.

“If you try to break my rules again Crowley, I’m gonna have our Angel finger you open and then I’m gonna fuck him instead and make you watch from the side. I’ll tie your hands behind your back if I have too,” you growl, squeezing his jaw tightly as you lean back. Crowley stares at you, unblinking, unable to let his mouth fall open due to your tight grip. Your words sent heat blazing down his spine and straight to his cock. You hear Aziraphales soft groan from your left and you look over at him, admiring the way his hands clench the sheets beneath his fingers, knuckles white. His chest is pink now as well and you can see his dick jump occasionally as he watches you and Crowley. You smirk and look back at Crowley when he whines in his throat.

“Do you hear me?” you ask firmly, raising an eyebrow. Crowley nods the best he can. “Say it,” you demand, dropping your grip on his jaw.

“Y-yes I understand my love,” he chokes out, chewing on his bottom lip. You nod once in approval. Moving away from them both, you slip around to the side of the bed, getting up and crawling to lay down near the headboard. The two of them have turned to watch you, eyes lustful as they watch you lay your head on one of the pillows. You bend your legs and plant your feet, digging your toes into the soft sheets below. Raising up on your elbows, you give the others a pointed look, seeing as they both have remained silent.

“Well? Come here my pretty little demon, sit in my lap,” you purr, fingers coming up to motion him forward. Crowley wastes no time and crawls up the bed toward you, looking excited at what’s to come. He gets between your legs and slips through, a leg on each side of your hips as he sits down. The movement causes his hard, overly heated cock to make contact with the cool material of the strap on and he jolts a little, rubbing his cock further against yours and he cries out. Your hands shoot out to grip his waist, keeping him still and he shifts his weight, getting used to the feeling. Once you’ve got him steady you decide it’s time to get your Angel involved.

“Angel,” you call out, “do you mind coming up here and stretching open our bratty demon please? I’ll give you a treat afterwards,” Smirking, you run your thumbs over Crowleys hip bones and he moans lowly. You hear Aziraphale giggle happily.

“Of course dear, you know I love getting him ready,” he teases. You hear the sheets rustle as he comes up behind Crowley, hearing the sharp cracking sound of skin on skin as the demon yelps and you giggle. Crowley scowls at you as Aziraphale bends him over, forcing the demon to place a hand on either side of your head to balance his weight and expose his pretty arse. You frame his face with your hands, thumbs running over his cheeks.

“What’s wrong you naughty little demon? I thought you liked getting spanked,” you tease, grinning cheekily. His frown deepens and he pokes your cheek.

“Don’t be mean doll,” he says, letting his head hang between his shoulders as he lets out a low groan. You can’t see what’s going on but you know Azirphale must’ve started fingering him. You remember the feel of having your fingers sucked into Crowleys tight, slick heat and your pussy aches to be filled. You try to ignore the sensation and your lips pull into an amused smile as you hear the little choked moans Crowley lets out as his arse is stretched open by the Angels thick fingers. You’re no stranger to the feeling and you know Crowleys on cloud 9.

“How many fingers has he taken Angel?” you ask curiously after a moment, letting go of the demons face and running your fingers through Crowleys soft red hair as he lets his weight relax onto your chest, forehead on the mattress right next to your head, arse propped up into the air. The slick tip of Crowleys cock leaves a sticky kiss on your lower belly when he shifts his weight. You shiver lightly as you feel what must be Aziraphales free hand, smoothly tickling his fingers up your inner thigh, wanting to touch you too. You moan gently at his touch.

“He’s already taken two, seems as if our dearest was eager for this,” he teases, with a sweet laugh as he presses his fingers inside of Crowley again, making the demon jolt forward. His arms instantly snake under your head and around your neck as he buries his face into your neck.

“Ah!” he cries out, thrusting his hips forward, accidentally rubbing the tip of his flushed cock against yours again, which makes him curse loudly. You grit your teeth because by this point, listening to them both, feeling Crowley writhe around as he’s finger fucked, you’re so unbelievably turned on, so wet you can feel it trail from your pussy down to your arse. The ache for one of them to fill you is so strong. Your cheeks burn, but you have enough self control and a plan to get through this. You know one of them is going to be fucking you at the end. So, trying to shove your own arousal down your throat, you continue to shower Crowley with filthy, sweet nothings as he gets stretched open.

“Oh my you cheeky little pup, is the Angel making your sweet arse feel so good? Hmm pretty baby?” you coo to Crowley, wrapping your arms around his upper back to keep him in place with his arse in the air. Crowley always loves any sort of dirty talk that flows from your mouth.

“Oh fuck! Yes, yes so good, shit, please love, want you inside of me, I want to ride you,” he pants, moaning against your neck, his breath heating your skin. He writhes in your hold and tightens his arms around your neck, letting out a whimper. You hum in acknowledgment, deciding to check in with Aziraphale, if nothing else but to annoy the demon further.

“Is he ready Angel?” you ask casually, running your hand up and down Crowleys upper back. You see Aziraphales adoring smile as you look over Crowleys shoulder and the Angel nods quickly.

“Yes dear, our old boy is definitely ready, he’s being such a good boy and taking all of what I give him,” Aziraphale praises, running his free hand soothingly over Crowleys lower back. The demon just moans in response, teeth digging in slightly at the base of your neck. You feel another heady pulse of arousal in your pussy at the sharp sting of his teeth and you bite your lower lip hard enough you think it might split. Letting out a breath of air steadily through your nose you reply, letting him know just what you had in mind for him.

“Good job Angel, I told you I wouldn’t leave you out yeah? I want you to sit on my face and let me eat your sweet arse while Crowley rides me okay?” you say, voice gentle but with no room for argument. You know Aziraphale gets shy admitting it but he loves sitting on your face and letting you lick at his hole until he cums hard, hips moving wildly. You fucking love it and you usually save it for times like this. Getting crushed under the Angels soft, thick thighs, you’d die happily. You hear the choked out moan that leaves lips as he slips his fingers free from Crowley and crawls out from behind the demon, who did let out a groan at the feeling of loss.

“Yes love, whatever you say,” he says easily, trying to keep his voice casual as he maneuvers himself until he’s sitting next your head on his haunches. You laugh, amused.

“Shit, that’s gonna make me cum so fast if I’m watching you eat his arse and riding you,” Crowley whimpers, complaining into your skin. You grin wickedly and unwind your arms from his shoulders. You push at his chest, getting him unstick himself from you and sit up in your lap.

“Well that’s good because I’m not letting you touch your cock this time, you wanted this so bad? Well you’re gonna work for it,” you tell him, running your hands over his slender thighs. His lips turn downward into a pout but he doesn’t argue, not so secretly loving being bossed around by you. You hear Aziraphale chuckle gently from beside you.

“Okay my little love, can we please get on with it?” Crowley says, wiggling his hips impatiently. He’s still hard and his cock bobs with his movements. Your pink tongue darts out to run it over you lips and you pat the sides of his hips, urging him to raise up. He raises to his knees but you think this would probably start out better if he got onto his feet.

“Crowley, love, I want you to get into a squatting position to ride me, it’ll be better that way,” you say, watching his eyebrows raise.

“Are you bloody serious? That’s gonna be so much harder!” he whines. You just stare at him, letting him know it’s an order not a suggestion. He purses his lips and dramatically moves into position. Planting his feet and leaning forward to brace his hands gently on your chest, squeezing your breasts.

“Don’t be such a brat, you know I’ll help you if you need it sweet thing,” you coo, smirking up at him. You bring your hand down to grip the base of your cock, wrapping your fingers around it and bracing it upwards, running the tip of it over Crowleys still very slick hole and you watch his eyes flutter as he moans and starts to sink downwards.

“Fine, fine, just don’t tease,” he pants, tilting his head down to watch you start to stretch his arse and disappear inside of him. You bring your free hand to his hip and tilt them towards you by an inch and just like that the head pops in, past his rim. He lets out a choked out sound, hands gripping your breasts tightly. You bite the tip of your tongue and let go of your cock while he seats himself fully, letting your cock stretch his sensitive rim completely. You let your hands rest on the sheets as you study him.

You’re letting Crowley adjust to your cock filling his arse for a second when you hear a soft whine come from your right side. You turn your head to see Aziraphale still sitting on his calves, clenching his hands into fists where they rest on his thighs, face bright red. You see his cock twitch a couple times, coming back to slap softly against his belly. You can tell how worked up he is by now. You know it won’t take too much to push him over the edge. He must be on the edge of bursting from not touching himself all this time. He’s such a good Angel for listening and you definitely didn’t forget about him.

“Oh don’t worry my sweet, I didn’t forget about you, I’m gonna let you sit on my face soon okay? I’m just letting our princess here get adjusted, you’re being such a good Angel for me,” you say soothingly, reaching a hand out rub his thigh.

“I know my love, it’s just so enchanting watching the way Crowley rides you,” he says, brushing hair off your forehead. You smile smugly.

“Well enjoy the show then Angel,” you tease and turn back to face Crowley, who seems to have his bearings about him again. You slip your hands under his arse, gripping his flesh, and press upwards, biceps flexing as he raises up. He uses his thighs and feet to balance as he starts to ride you with your help. He lets go of your breasts and braces his hands on his knees, using them as leverage as he starts to bounce. As you help him get into a rhythm you feel your own arousal hit you like a freight train again. You watch where your cock slides into Crowley, filling him over and over while his mouth hangs open. His eyes are shut and he looks so fucking sexy bouncing on your cock.

“Fuck Crowley,” you breathe, “you look absolutely unbelievable. Does it feel good sweet thing?” you purr, voice soft as your arms start to ache a bit from helping him move. He opens his eyes to look at you, letting out a whine. He feels his legs start to burn a little bit, but the angle is fucking amazing and he’s able to hit that spot that makes his entire body shake, pleasure shooting through his limbs like electricity every time. It easily makes him feel like he’s gonna cum in no time at all.

“Shit! Ah, fuck, yes it feels so so good darling,” he babbles as he jolts harshly. You think he must’ve been hitting his sweet spot. Thinking you can probably let him keep up the pace on his own now, you take your hands out from under him. Looking over to Aziraphale he seems to be entranced watching the demon ride you.

“Aziraphale, sit on my face lovely,” you say softly, snapping him out of it. He looks down at you and nods eagerly. “Kiss me first though Angel,” you request, smiling coyly.

“Yes, okay, I’m so ready dear,” he says, voice bright as he bends down, pressing his soft lips to yours firmly. You moan into his mouth as he rolls his lips firmly against yours a few times. You bite his bottom lip sharply and turn your head, breaking the kiss. You wink at him in approval and he takes that as his cue to raise to his knees, shuffling closer and throwing a leg over your head. He’s facing Crowley as he hovers over your mouth, making heated eye contact with the demon, noticing Crowley was watching the two of you kiss as he kept a steady rhythm bouncing on your cock.

You see the Angels thick arse above you and your tongue runs over your bottom lip. For now you resist the urge to bite roughly into his fleshy arse. Wanting to move on you shift your weight and raise your head up to press a soft kiss on Aziraphales arse cheek. You hear the Angel moan lowly. Before you pull the Angel down to devour him, you speak to Crowley once more.

“Crowley my love, you can ride me however you like, but don’t touch yourself, you’re cumming untouched, is that clear?” you say, voice steady and strong. You hear him whine, but he must agree because you feel him sit down fully. He maneuvers his legs until he’s on his knees again. Crowely starts to roll his hips back and forth in your lap, groaning when your cock presses firmly against his sweet spot. You think that’s good enough, not having the patience to make the demon speak. You snake one arm under the Angel and wrap it around Aziraphales thigh. You use the other hand to spank his arse sharply, digging your nails in there and spreading him open. It allows you to see his pretty pink hole. You hear a soft gasp from the Angel as you blow cool air over his heated flesh, feeling goosebumps erupt under the fingers on his thigh.

“Oh- doll, please,” Aziraphale whines. You take mercy on him and pull on his thigh, forcing him to sit and make contact with your mouth. He cries out loudly when he feels your wet, warm tongue swipe over his hole, he digs his fingers into his thighs. You let go of his arse cheek and wrap both arms around his thighs, holding him close as you start to run your tongue up and down over his warm hole, massaging the swirl of skin with your tongue, getting him wet. You feel his thighs tense next to your head.

You start a steady pace with your mouth, licking firmly and dipping the tip of your tongue shallowly in his hole a few times. When you take a moment to suck on the soft skin with your lips it sounds like someone ripped the sounds from the Angels chest. Aziraphales letting out sharp ah sounds with every movement of your tongue, panting hard. You feel Crowley start to bounce again, he must’ve been watching before but he’s moving quickly now. The way his thighs smack against your pelvis has your insides twisting with want. You hear the little whines spilling from his mouth. Aziraphale starts to wail when you press your tongue deeper into his hole, wiggling the warm muscle in as much as you can. You moan against him and he feels the vibrations in his cock.

“Oh! Hah, love-ah! Your mouth, it feels so amazing, I may not last much longer,” Aziraphale whines, rocking his hips. You feel a bit surprised he’s already this close to cumming but you do think about how he hasn’t been able to touch himself this entire time. Fingering Crowley open and then watching him ride you. He must’ve been really close to the edge already. You pull him tighter and really get to work, jaw aching from the effort.

“Already Angel?” Crowley pants, teasing him slightly. Crowley leans forward to brace his hands on the bed by your chest. Aziraphale laughs breathlessly as he rolls his hips back and forth over your mouth, holding onto his thighs for balance.

“You’re one to talk dear, you already look like you’re going to combust,” he cuts off with a groan. Aziraphale can feel the tightening sensation in his belly, cock drooling and jumping as your pretty mouth licks firm stripes against his hole again and again. Crowley isn’t any better, his thighs ache but he won’t have to do much more to make himself cum. Riding you, watching you eat the Angels arse, it’s all too much. Crowley burns, skin sticky with sweat and his limbs tingle pleasurably as the demon climbs the sweet peak of his orgasm.

You take the chance to move a hand from the Angels thigh to wrap around the middle of his shaft. You start to pump your hand quickly, sucking harshly on the soft skin of his hole. The Angels eyes widen, breath catching his chest as his heart hammers, so close to cumming. The next soft lick of your tongue makes Aziraphale still, he throws his head back, his voice loud enough to reach the heavens as he wails, thighs clenching around your head. He’s cumming hard, limbs filling with molten lava as his cock throbs in your hand and he covers it with his sticky release.

“Angel! Oh for fucks sake, that’s not fucking fair,” Crowley gasps, unable to hold back his orgasm any longer. The demons eyes trained on the way Aziraphales face twists in pleasure, his cheeks flushed and his cum all over your hand. He fucks himself back on your cock, two, three more times before he’s sitting down fully, eyes squeezing shut as he rolls his hips. His dick kicks, cum spurting out all over your belly.

“That’s it Crowley, good job dear boy,” Aziraphale purrs, letting you slowly pump his shaft as he gets over sensitive. Feeling your tongue flick slowly over his hole, he groans in his throat. You let go of his cock, patting his thigh twice and the Angel slips off your face to lay on the bed beside you, trying to recover. The Angel must’ve miracled the mess away because you no longer find yourself covered in their releases.

You wipe your saliva covered mouth with the back of your hand, tilting your head up to look at Crowley, who’s still sitting fully in your lap. Hands still braced on either side of you. He’s breathing heavily, chest flushed. You hum happily, seeing both of your boys have been satisfied.

“Look at you Crowley, you were so good, making yourself cum on my cock,” you praise him. He laughs softly, but winces as he raises himself off of your cock, flopping down on your right side. You start to feel where the material of the straps has been digging into your skin and you undo them, pulling them out from under you and taking the strap on off. You sigh in relief and lean up to toss it off to the side, before laying flat.

“Feeling okay my loves?” you ask lovingly, resting a hand on each of their chests. Twin sounds of agreement reach you ears. You’re feeling very content with the evening. Of course, you had hoped one of them would have enough energy to slip inside of you afterwards and make you cum so hard you saw stars, but you knew it didn’t always happen when you wore them out. Really you don’t mind having to take care of yourself sometimes. You let them rest, listening to the sounds of their breathing and take your hand off of the Angels chest to trail it down your belly aiming to touch your clit.

It shocks you when a hand grips your wrist stopping you, it was Aziraphales. You turn to look at him, eyes slightly wide. He raises an eyebrow and smiles shyly.

“I don’t think so my love, let me return the favor,” he says sweetly, letting go of your wrist and sitting up to move around and get in between your thighs. You hear Crowley chuckle from your other side and you look at him as you feel Aziraphale scoot even closer, rubbing his once again hard cock through your slick folds. You shiver and let out a groan.

“We wouldn’t leave you unsatisfied love, especially not after taking care of us so well,” he purrs, smirking and propping himself up on an elbow to watch. You feel Aziraphale guide his cock into your aching pussy, stretching you deliciously as he bottoms out in one thrust. It sends warm waves of pleasure through all your limbs. This feeling is what you’ve been waiting for all night and your back arches into the movement. You wail, letting your eyes flutter shut. The pleasure is unbelievable after waiting for so long, tingles dancing up your spine and warmth pooling quickly in your belly.

You pull the Angel down swiftly and dig your nails into his back, wrapping your legs around his hips as he fucks into you fast and rough. He snakes his arms under your back and you let him pound you into the mattress. He makes you cum so hard your vision gets blurry. In the end he makes you cum at least three times. The other two finishing at least once more. Crowley jerking himself off from the side as he watches the Angel fuck you. The three of you end up in a pile under the covers on your shared bed, sleeping soundly. The next morning you wake up thinking that sly demon does have some truly great ideas.

[xylon8]

Clear Skies, Starry Eyes

[Dom!Fem!reader x Sub!Yukong]

[NSFW warning ;P kinda sucks but eh I was bored.]  Imagine a tall foxian in heat who is a single mother of one, and also helm master of the sky-faring commission of the Xianzhou Alliance, getting off by grinding her clit on your lap in her office while her head was buried deeply into your shoulder because poor little thing can't hold back at all because of your scent.. Well… there's no need to imagine that because that's what's happening right now. Moans and whines seep out of her mouth like the wind, soft and shallow, indicating that she's getting close. It was obvious by the way your lover looked at you that made you think she was in heat. her gentle eyes always had a lustful spark in them like no other. You grip her hips to a halt and deny her release, as she whimpers softly in defeat, as she was so.. so close…  she lift her head up, looking at you with a sex drunk expression. “getting off by just my lap, Yukong?.. tsk, tsk… you know better than that..'' you leaned and whispered in a hushed tone in her ear, making her shiver. “I know just the thing to help you…” you get out her favorite strap from a compartment in one of her drawers and put it on.. Incase you had moments like this. “Since you refuse to ride the skies.. Why don't you ride me instead?…” you smirk earning a soft whimper from her as she quickly positioned her entrance on the tip of the toy, slowly lowering herself down, but you pull her down immediately, letting her take all of you in one sharp pull as she gasped and bit her now bleeding lip, holding a blood curdling moan. "Mmhgn!~ Y-Y/n!..~” “Shh.. be quiet dear.. You dont want your daughter or one of your co-workers and helpers seeing your fucked out face now do we..?” her walls tighten around your fake cock as you slowly thrusted up, making her even more turned on than she was.  “Unless.. You're into that? Letting someone see just how much of a needy slut you can be while you're in heat?~” she bit your shoulder in an attempt to hold back a moan, you grunted at the contact as she lifted her body up and down rhythmically, thrusting up into her hole until it hit her cervix. She digs her nails at your back, leaving red bloody scratches, whimpers and needy moans filling the office as she can no longer hold back even if she tried. Her teary eyed, fucked out expression left your stomach with butterflies, her tongue sticking out just a bit, and her ears placed back. That image of her forever burned in your brain. You fucked her dumb in different kinds of positions. Missionary, doggy style, (etc..) until her holes were filled up with her own slick and cum, breeding her almost like your cock wasnt fake. You lead her to her 9th orgasm as you thrust deeply into her cunt while she's laying down on her desk faced up, objects and paperwork smeared in her juices, falling to the ground like it didn't matter but only you inside of her, fake veins hitting spots that she never knew were there. She came immediately after your last thrust to her cunt, leaving a pool of her own cum on the desk. She stays layed down as she pants harshly. You pull out of her easily,  noticing that she made quite the mess. “I take it that you enjoyed the ride?” you chuckle and pant. Ignoring the fact that you just made Yukong see stars instead of bright blue skies.

[chaoticbardlady99]

Lethal Woman- Chapter 6 (GN! AFAB! Reader x Astarion) 18+ MDNI

Author note- work has kicked my ass left right and center. I also deleted my draft of this chapter like three separate times until I finally wrote something I loved.

CW- mentions of still birth, mentions of miscarriage, smut, fluff (I think? Any emotional intimacy is fluff to me 💀), mentions of torture, mentions of rape/sexual assault, mentions of physical and emotional abuse, violence. (I think that may be all? Also this all looks not awesome, but I promise it’s a lot more awesome than you think and not Uber grotesque.)

It’s been mostly edited and I definitely have chapter 7 basically done so I’m anticipating being happy with my draft by Sunday. Happy reading! Thank you for everyone who likes my little self indulgent angst fic!!!!

Also- please remember I take creative liberties. A good chunk of the Nightmasks are dead canonically (RIP my guys) but for the purpose of this story, they are alive. Oh and the names are hard so forgive me for the lack of consistent spelling lmao

Chapter 7

“Ugly, wretched little thing.”

Dahlia’s term of endearment sticks to your brain like- well- an illithid parasite. You are sitting with Karlach and Shadowheart, each of you on your fourth glass of whatever alcohol you could find as the Tieflings jovially celebrate around you. You want to feel the same warmth and happiness everyone else does, but you are too busy trying to ignore the fact that Alfira and Astarion have been talking since the beginning of the party- Alfira immediately walking up to him with her stupid, beautiful face. And her stupid kind heart and pretty voice.

You liked her enough to be her friend, but now? You are struggling not to haul her off by her horns and kick her into the river in the stinking Owlbear den.

Get yourself together Rowan, it was never going to happen anyway.

“Soldier, you might want to stop burning a hole through the Bard with your eyes- Astarion can’t tolerate fire remember?,” Karlach jests and you give her a sour look.

You hadn’t really talked to Astarion since earlier in the day when he had come to your aid when Priestess Gut had a firm grip on your mind, then he fought by your side while you freed Halsin. You had split up after that, him going to help Shadowheart and Karlach and you off to support Wyll and Gale’s group. The fight against Dror Ragozlin and his crew of misfits was easy and Lae’zel evidently enjoyed getting to fight next to you for once. You wanted to enjoy the moment with your companions, your victory just in your grasp, but you had been somewhat distracted during the battle because Minthara’s thoughts had been so Gods damn loud.

You appeared to be the only one experiencing this problem- you assumed that she is specifically targeting you for a reason, but you couldn’t figure out why until she showed you a different image than the fight in front of her.

It was you, standing over a drow female in Menzoberranzan. The alley way is dark with her blood dripping into the cobblestone. You could feel Minthara’s rage- you had killed her lover.

You remember that contract now- It was one of the few you had received where it was required that the target be mutilated and you hated every second of it. Minthara was one of the few people who had ever managed to almost catch you, but you had evaded her successfully. The picture changed, she showed you a flash from Shadowheart’s perspective- it’s you and Astarion, talking in hushed voices and close to each other by the fire. The scene is far more intimate than you realized and certainly incriminating. Her voice boomed in your head.

You killed my lover. Now I’m going to kill yours.

A scream pierced the air as Karlach cried out for Shadowheart. You watched in horror as Shadowheart hit the stone wall hard and dropped flat on her face- unmoving. Karlach was at her side within seconds, trying to get her to wake up. Then Karlach pitched forward after a spell hit her. Karlach was screaming in terror at the top of her lungs and rolling around in pain. You stared at the scene for what felt like hours- rigid and mortified- until Minthara caught your attention again.

Minthara showed Astarion- fighting for his life against her as her blade nicked him and cut him superficially. Thankfully he is a lot faster than her, but your feet were moving before your brain had time to process your actions. Your rage is all consuming- every part of your body feels like it’s on fire.

Between the use of Ghost Step and Spider Crawl, you made quick work of sneaking into the battlefield. You waited for an opening- Minthara and Astarion were neck and neck, blow for blow before Minthara managed to break one of his daggers and slam the hilt of her longsword atop of his head.

Astarion stumbled backwards and fell over on his side. You tried to suppress your own nausea as you watched him struggle to get up as Minthara began menacingly moving towards him. The bloodlust in her thoughts- you could taste it on your tongue. Vengeance is in her reach, but you are not the same you when Tessa died. You will be damned if this bitch of a woman was going to torture two of your closest friends and kill the one person who has made your barely beating, locked away heart a little less heavy to carry.

You cast Evard’s Black Tentacles and manipulated them so that one vine grabbed Minthara’s right hand and ripped it away from the left- her long sword fell to the ground. You picked it up as she screamed profanities at you.

You manipulated another to wrap around her throat and it pulled her down on her knees- she faced the bridge with horror on her face as you stalked towards her with your vampiric stare. You watched as she confronted her own mortality with angry tears- her tadpole hurled profanities at you in Elvish, Drow elvish, and Common. You just smiled at her, sweetly, slowly, like you had perfected for years now.

Minthara’s tears were running down her face and she fought against the tentacles as they squeezed tighter around her throat and wrists.

The next words you had spoken in Elvish- “Say hi to your lover for me”- before you cut her head clean off her shoulders with her own weapon.

You hadn’t looked at Astarion after you had killed Minthara- you were actually too afraid to see the way he may look at you. Would he be repulsed by you? Afraid? You didn’t want to know.

So now, instead, you are stuck watching him flirt with the feminine, beautiful tiefling that you want to go and feed to the resurrected harpies (they aren’t resurrected- yet). You know it isn’t her fault- you just never stood a chance.

“Roo, really, he is barely focusing on her,” Shadowheart says with a roll of her eyes, “he keeps looking over here at you anyway.”

“Oh I’m sure he is after I brutally murdered someone in front of him,” you cross your arms, your tone laced in venom, “yeah that’s a real attractive quality to have- I am capable of brutal MURDER.”

Shadowheart goes to protest, but Karlach beats her to it.

“I don’t know Soldier, he looked pretty dazzled to me.”

You bust up laughing, choking on some of your wine.

“Dazzled, you say?”

“Razzle DAZZLED!” Karlach offers big explosive hands with her statement, “and I mean- he’s into blood so it’s not like you beheading something is all that damning. Maybe he’s really into it.”.

You choke on your wine again, this time it comes out of your nose. You are both dying laughing now, evidently the alcohol had gotten to your heads. It wasn’t because you were making fun of him- it was just the whole idea itself was so ridiculous and the fact that you can nonchalantly talk about beheading a person as an endearing prospect with these two individuals is so bizarre. Shadowheart was laughing despite herself.

Eventually the three of you make your way to the firepit and join Halsin and Gale while they smoke something out of Halsin’s pipe. You ask to try it and it burns your throat as you cough harshly. Halsin laughs hardily and says you’ve passed initiation. Shit, you don’t even remember walking over to the campfire anymore.

Another hour or so passes, Astarion is out of sight and the high has worn off. You feel pleased to see Alfira standing and talking to her friend dejectedly. Maybe he rejected her? You might be a terrible person, but you feel like you already knew that.

You feel overwhelmed all of a sudden by the proximity and warmth of everyone around the fire. You wait for the right moment to remove yourself from the situation- desperately needing a moment of peace and quiet.

If anyone notices you get up, they don’t say anything. You quickly steal another bottle of wine from beside Gale and Halsin and sneak off into the woods.

You crack open the bottle and slowly sip on it as you meander through the woods, finding the secret path to the beach that you have come to adore so much. You had been eyeballing one specific cliff edge ever since you and Astarion had found this place. It wasn’t a massive cliff, but the pool at the bottom of it is deep enough for you to jump into the water without injury. It was something your father used to do with you when you were a child. There was a river that ran outside of your little town and as you moved further into the woods, you could find a waterfall with a deep pool at the bottom. He would teach you flips and different jumps. He had deemed you the world’s finest diver right before he died- cheering you on from the ground below.

You feel warm and melancholy from the memory. Gods you miss your parents.

You drop the bottle of wine and strip down to your underwear and make your way towards the top of the waterfall.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had finally managed to get Alfira to leave him alone. She is an adorable little creature, but she is not the one on his radar right now. Adorable does not compare to the vision you are- nor the protection you provide.

Astarion had spent the last painstaking hour and a half watching you laugh with quite literally every person in camp who has a crush on you- Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, and even Halsin is fucking smitten now. Gods could you just stop being yourself for five minutes? Astarion needs (and silently wants) your attention to only be on him. It is absolutely crucial to his survival. Speaking of which, where the hells were you?

You were no longer by the fire where he had last seen you before he snuck into Gale’s tent to steal one of the nicer bottles of wine he hoards away from everyone. Astarion had planned on using your shared connection to ask you to meet him at your spot, but now you are nowhere to be found.

Astarion fights the urge to scream out of frustration as he treks through the woods towards the spot on the beach hoping by some miracle that you may already be there.

Astarion stops as your scent hits his nose. He walks around the corner of the rock that you both use as a landmark and freezes when he notices your clothes are sprawled across the ground and a bottle of wine is a third of the way empty. He tries to ignore the ache that is starting to consume his chest. Did you bring someone else here? Shadowheart maybe? You were sitting rather close to her earlier…

Did his three days of stubbornness really just allow you to fall into someone else’s arms?

Astarion’s sinking feeling gets worse when something flashes out of the corner of his eye.

He sneaks around the corner- reminding himself that he is merely just making sure Shadowheart isn’t being… Shadowheart?

Imagine his shock when Astarion doesn’t see Shadowheart at all. Instead, he witnesses you complete a perfect aerial twist before graciously diving into the waves below. He feels completely frozen until you break the water and laugh wildly. Astarion thinks his own heart might start beating from his chest being filled with the sound.

You jump out of the water and race back up to the top of the rock using Spider Crawl- something you had promised to teach him when you found out Cazador had never actually made him privy to the entirety of his capabilities as a spawn.

Astarion grins as he watches you once again go flying into the air, doing a backflip before straightening out, disappearing once again into the water below.

You break the surface and get back onto the shore. You pretend to bow and wave saying “thank you” and “I’ll be here all week.” It’s silly and he’s enjoying every minute of watching you just be yourself.

Astarion knows you aren’t a serious person, not really, but you pretending to bow for an imaginary crowd of adoring fans in a (not) private moment? It feels authentic to your silliness- not just when you and Karlach are joking together.

You are funny, kind, and entirely too cunning- despite what he said three days ago. Your prowess in combat is second to none and you speak a couple different languages- infernal being one of them when he noticed you and Karlach speaking it back and forth like it was also your native tongue.

Elvish is the other one and he only knew that from overhearing what you said to Minthara while he was too busy experiencing shell shock from how quickly you had gotten over to him. Oh and the hit to the head didn’t help either.

Astarion’s thoughts are interrupted when you make eye contact with him and freeze.

You look down at your semi-exposed figure and then up at him.

Astarion flashes you a flirtatious grin and sweeps his eyes up and down your body as you look at him. You are a work of art and the blush that creeps up your neck is an added bonus.

The scars on your body are numerous and varying in degrees of severity. It doesn’t make you any less attractive to him or revolts him by any means; It makes you more real if anything.

“Well hello there, beautiful,” Astarion says melodically as you walk over, “I was hoping I might run into you here.”

“Oh is that so?” you say and put your hands on your hips, teasing him “and to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Astarion smiles widely at you. He holds up the bottle of wine.

“I was hoping I may be able to drink with my most favorite companion at camp,” he looks at you with a sly grin, “but I didn’t think I’d be getting a show. You are delightfully talented in multiple faucets, Darling.”

You smile shyly at him while adorably scrunching your nose.

As you bend down to grab your shirt, you look at your bottle and scratch the back of your head awkwardly.

“I might need to apologize considering I already started without you.”

Not telling me to piss off so that’s an optimistic start.

“Hm,” Astarion hums, cracking open his bottle and taking a drink, “I’ll allow it this once. I suppose I do owe you for my… words the other day.”

“I’ll forgive you,” you say with a mischievous grin, “but for a price.”

“Oh?” Astarion purrs, “and what is your price, my dear.”

“I demand at least half of your spoils in loot.” you say with flourish and over exaggeration- you aren’t even remotely serious.

“No, no, no, “he emphasizes, his finger waving around in the air, “Never. Going. To. Happen.”

“Ugh fine, I guess I’ll just have to accept that you saved my life earlier.”

“I still think you are ahead on that front, but who’s counting really?”

“Definitely not me,” you say and cough a number under your breath.

Astarion playfully glares at you and you giggle in response.

You close the gap between the two of you and gently grab his hand, pulling him to sit down next to you at the edge of the water. Astarion pushes down the giddy feeling that arises- hoping you didn’t notice he flinched when you first went to grab his hand.

You look at Astarion and then your clasped hands- you definitely noticed.

You begin to pull away and he feels his body protest, grabbing your hand back and interlocking them again. Astarion drinks out of his wine, refusing to look at you- this is entirely too intimate. Entirely too much like the lovers he used to hate and envy in Baldur’s Gate, but he can’t bring himself to let go or stop the slight smile that creeps on his lips.

You drink out of your bottle of wine and put your feet in the water. Astarion glances at you and notes the growing grin. He feels a twinge of guilt when he thinks about his plan and how fragile your heart probably is. Astarion pushes it away. Astarion needs his plan to work and so far, it’s working.

The space between the two of you is silent- nothing but the ocean waves roaring in his ears. It’s not uncomfortable, but Astarion doesn’t necessarily know where to start. He wants to begin the process of seducing you, but he’s also unsure of how well that would play out- considering what he’s seen thus far in your memories.

“My dad taught me how to cliff dive,” you say in a melancholic voice, interrupting his thoughts “we would go all the time over the Summer when we lived outside of Daggerford.”

“I was wondering how you had managed to pull off such an impressive feat.”

You guffaw at him and then pout with a glint of humor in your eye. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Fine Darling,” he muses, “I suppose you are rather impressive in all facets.”

Your face is practically burning with his compliment. Astarion has decided he will leave out the bait and let you take it. If you give him any signal or specifically say “I want to have sex” then Astarion will pleasure you and you will see how useful he can be in return for all of your gifts- your blood, your protection.

Your company.

Whatever feelings Astarion felt over the last three days- he never wants to feel again. You have been the one and only person to be kind to him, protect him in 200 years. You treat him with respect and like a friend- not the monster he absolutely is and that you should hate him for being. It had been a very lonely three days without your company-besides, no one else is nearly as fun to converse with. Astarion hears the whisper of a previous conversation in the back of his mind.

“So what does boar taste like?”

“I don’t really have much of a reference, but better than rats and flies,” he scowled.

“Gods, how filthy was that palace?” you murmured under your breath.

Your comment had caught him off guard and he couldn’t help but bark out laughing. You had felt horrible for it- you thought he wouldn’t be able to hear you. In your defense, you had spoken very quietly. Astarion assured you that he found your observation quite peculiar and hilarious.

Astarion likes that you point out the small things and allow him to decide how much of the larger things he wants to tell you. You never push him and Astarion isn’t used to it, but he knows he never wants it to go away- to be treated any other way ever again.

“What else did your father teach you?” Astarion asks softly.

You smile, “My father followed Ilmater. He was a ranger. He dedicated his life to helping others.”

A daughter of Ilmater worshippers turned into a half-dead creature who is forced to kill by an evil vampire, Astarion thinks, I guess even the Gods have a sense of humor.

“What happened to him?”

The pause is pregnant and loud. Astarion notices the single tear that manages to escape your eyes. You clear your throat.

“He’s dead,” you whisper, “a group of Ravagers destroyed our village. They didn’t like that it was a mix of humans and Drows escaping from Lolth- and they especially hated us ‘filthy half breeds’. Made the women and the children watch as they beheaded their fathers and husbands.”

Astarion doesn’t know what to say to something that horrific. He just merely looks at you- waiting for you to continue speaking.

“He just kept telling my mom and I how much he loved us. How he’d always be protecting us,” you manage to choke out, “I can’t even tell you how many times I have prayed to Ilmater for help- only to be reminded how alone I am and that, despite being the God of Compassion, Ilmater doesn’t care.”

Astarion knows that feeling all too intimately, but he wants to hear more.

“How old were you? What happened to you and your mother?”

You are looking at him wearily now, so he gives your hand a squeeze.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to Darling.”

“I want to, I’ve just never talked about it before.”

“Well then,” he states in a flattered tone, “I’m honored to potentially be the first and only keeper of your deep, dark secrets.”

You laugh breathily while you roll your eyes at him. The smile on your face is replaced by an unreadable expression. You take a deep breath before you turn your gaze back to the ocean.

“I was 5. They sold us to a mine outside of Westgate. It was run by a group of fanatics that I can’t even remember the name of anymore,” you shake your head in disgust, “all I knew was that they were terrible people. They threatened us children to get our mothers to do anything they wanted. One of them raped my mother and ‘blessed’ her with a child.”

Astarion squeezes your hand as he feels you tense. You look at him with your teary, angry eyes and the intensity of your emotions- your grief- are written into every crack and crevice of your face. Astarion notes that you look uncomfortable, but he gives you a soft smile, encouraging you to continue. You take a big swig of your wine- he shortly follows.

“I don’t know what happened, but the baby… didn’t make it and mom developed a blood illness. It was the week before she had planned on breaking us out. I didn’t know she was dying- she told me she was going to be okay. I should have known- She gave me everything for the escape and had explained the plan to me so many times in that week she was dying that I can still recite it to this day.”

You chuckle to yourself before pulling your knees up to your chest.

“I asked them if I could have a funeral for her. They took me outside and made me watch while the pigs ate her. They told me that’s the only funeral a Drow deserves.”

“What a bunch of racist assholes,” he states.

“Oh, they were only the biggest.”

“You escaped a prison by yourself then or?”

“I did. I was 9 years old and probably one of the only people who has ever escaped that mine. I haven’t seen anyone from my village since. I went back to Daggerford one time and it was still decimated- no one ever came back to rebuild it.”

You both sit in the heavy silence. Your thumb begins to absentmindedly rub circles along his thumb- the gesture is simple, but it’s probably the softest touch he’s felt in the last 200 years that was not filled with the anticipation of sex.

“I’ve only ever had one failed escape,” you sigh harshly, “I was going to run away with Tessa because I didn’t want to go through the ceremony to be a Deathbringer, but Dahlia didn’t care what I wanted. She was too busy trying to win Obarhk’s favor.”

“How did you end up with Dahlia then? If you didn’t want to be a Deathbringer?”

You scoff and he sees the resentment behind your eyes.

“I was 13 and had been living on the streets for a while by then. I had my little tent and I had managed to convince one of the local inns to let me clean the rooms,” you scrunched up your nose, “it was gross, but decent work and they fed me once a day; let me use the baths. Sometimes they even gave me extra food and if it was cold out, they’d let me stay in a room if there was one available. I didn’t have to steal food anymore which was nice. I was actually very happy. I was saving my money so I could travel to the Underdark and hire a sword to go with me- to my grandparents- like my mom had told me to do.

“Then one day, a few of the other local boys, also urchins, had watched as I was given a decent amount of gold and a burlap sack of food. They followed me to my tent. I had offered to share and to give them some gold to help, but they didn’t want just some of it- they wanted all of it and all of me too. I thought I was going to die- the fight was brutal and they were so much bigger than I was, but I wasn’t as easy to take down as they had thought.

“Right as they had slammed my head into the pavement, right when I thought it was over- an Ilmater Priestess had appeared out of no where. She had killed them all. She came up to me, was kind to me, promised she would protect me, give me a home, teach me how to be stronger than anything else in the dark while she helps me travel to the Underdark. I was thrilled. I thought Ilmater had finally heard all my prayers. Then she took me outside of the city- I thought we were maybe going to a temple. I was so naive and stupid.”

Your voice breaks and you struggle to compose yourself- taking a shaking breath.

“She changed- the kind Ilmater priestess I had just been following to safety ended up being the Queen of Venom and a Sharran priestess nonetheless,” you spit out with disgust, “Dahlia stripped me of my clothes- she beat me, cut into my skin, threw me around. Dahlia kept telling me how ugly, wretched, small, and weak I was for hours- how she would be the only person to ever love me from now on. Then she chained me down to the floor, unmoving for I don’t even know how long in the dark. I just know when she finally came back, I was on the brink of death. She starved me and refused to give me water until I stopped asking her to leave. I stopped, but then I learnt how much worse it could be. I also began to accept that I would probably never be free again.”

“Are you free now?”

“Barely. A bit over a year ago I was assigned to the Faceless himself.”

“What changed?”

“I won the Deathbringer Tournament and Lady Thistle Thalaver, the fucking consort of all people, said that she wanted me to be assigned as her personal Deathbringer. Thistle made the point that we are close in age and it would make her happy to have someone she can talk to and protect her. News flash- I was more horrified by that than Dahlia. How the fuck does someone who is a literal husk of a person become the prize comfort pet of the Consort that is the reason you were even kidnapped to begin with,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration, “Dahlia hated her. She was envious of her already and boy, when Thistle asked for me? I thought Dahlia might kill me and Thistle right there if Obarhk hadn’t stepped in.”

“She sounds like a sore loser.”

“ Oh she is, this grudge has lasted a little over a century or three supposedly. I can’t ever seem to get the exact date right, but Dahlia had allowed Obarhk to change her and became one of his Nightmasters because she had hoped to be his Queen and consort,” you shake your head, “it was childish- supposedly. Obarhk was going to go through with it initially, but then Thistle’s father had extensive debts to the guild and offered his only daughter as payment.”

“What a shitty father.”

“Oh the shittiest,” you agree pointedly.

“If she wanted you to help her gain his favor, why did she hide you away?”

“There are rules within the Guild for how recruits are to be treated. Obarhk plays with his cards very close to his chest and he has an absurd amount of political pull. He doesn’t want word getting out that the Nightmasks beat their assassin’s and thieves, but not their Deathbringers- it’s bad for recruitment. Guess they used to do that and damn near went extinct, not everyone is into becoming half-vampire” you shrug, “Dahlia had ‘presented’ me to gain Obarhk’s favor- not his consort’s. She lied and said I sought her out days ago, begging to get a chance to become a Deathbringer. When I was asked if it was true, I said yes, the alternative was whatever hell awaited me later. At least if I didn’t survive the ceremony, I would be laid to rest.

“Except Thistle won. Obarhk may not be particularly loving towards Thistle, but he won’t deny her what she wants if it’s reasonable. I was still under Dahlia, but now if I disappeared for days on end or came back beaten, it was noticed. A year ago, Lucia and Ghost found me bleeding out in a street with Dahlia over me- it was the first time she had done serious harm to me since the ceremony and the first time she was caught,” he watches you smile despite yourself, “Thistle wanted her to be tortured for what she had done- for creating the infamous ‘Hollow Deathbringer’ as I was called when I first started, but Obarhk doesn’t interfere with religious affairs and Dahlia claimed it was for her Sharran worship. So the solution was that I would report directly to him, Phultan, Lucia, and Lady Thalaver only. If Dahlia attempts to hurt me again, I am allowed to end her life and if I attempt to attack Dahlia, she is allowed to end my life. She isn’t allowed to send her assassin’s after me either or there will be consequences. That’s the same day I found out Dahlia had been lying to me- she is Obarhk’s spawn, not a Master Vampire. She never would have been able to get away with half of her threats if I had known, but I’m sure that’s partly why she isolated me from the Guild until I was old enough and skilled enough to compete.

“We’ve been in a very strange stalemate over the last year. Unable to find each other, but I don’t even know if I could kill her anyway. At least, not by myself.”

It was a lot to take in at one time. Your entire world is so heavily influenced by vampiric beings- no wonder you were so nonchalant about him being a spawn and him feeding from you.

Astarion will admit though, he isn’t necessarily thrilled to find out another sociopathic vampire might be hunting them- specifically you.

“Darling, if Dahlia ever darkens your door step ever again,” he leans toward you and speaks his next words with conviction, “I’ll rip her throat out myself.”

You smile at him and squeeze his hand.

“ Thank you Star, but you don’t need to do that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t listen to hypocrites- Miss ‘I’m going to put Cazador’s head on a pike and we can parade it around the city’”

You gasp, “how dare you! I felt like that would be a fun leisure activity.”

“Oh believe me, it will be very fun,” he says with a malicious grin,” but someone needs to keep you humble, my dear.”

“Oh okay,” you roll your eyes, “because I’m the one who needs humbling here. Thank you for your service kind sir, I will never be able to repay you.”

He can tell that you are done with the previous conversation- he’ll have to thank you for sharing later and ask follow up questions. Astarion has a plan to execute.

“Well of course,” he lifts your clasped hands and kisses the back of yours, “ I live to be a hero for the common folk.”

“You’re lucky you’re a beautiful bastard.”

“Why thank you, my Dear. I am rather beautiful, aren’t I?”

You turn, facing him now and you move closer- giving him a light shove. One of your eyebrows is lifted in amusement- a lopsided grin on your face. This is most definitely the moment he has been waiting for.

He leans in, your faces near inches apart and he savors how your heart begins to race.

“I must admit, I was lying to you before,” he muses, “I maybe would like to do a little more than just drink wine with you tonight.”

“Y-you do?”

Astarion smiles at the way your breath hitches.

“Well of course, I believe you may be one of the most bewitching individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he says while gently brushing your hair behind your ears, “but only if that would be okay with you.”

You look at him- there is lust in your eyes and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. One of your canines graze your lip and a bit of your blood begins to paint your lips- Astarion fights the urge to smash his lips to yours. You search his face for deception.

“I want to. Very badly,” you pause, “but I need to be open with you. I’ve only ever been with one man before and it wasn’t my choice. That was over 10 years ago. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to go completely through with it or give you some wildly fun time… it would probably be vanilla at best even if I can get through it…”

You trail off and look at the ground, gently pushing his hand away from your face. Astarion frowns.

“If you want someone who you can actually have fun with, it might be better to go find Alfira again,” you whisper woefully, “I would absolutely understand. No harm, no foul.”

Astarion’s heart breaks for you. He gently guides your eyes back to his. You look sad and dejected -like you are ready for him to get up and walk away. You are expecting him to confirm what Dahlia has always told you- that you are an ugly, wretched, little thing. Unloveable at best and absolutely unforgivably intolerable at your worst. Astarion has slept with plenty of virgins before- he knows how to say all the right honeyed words to get them to bed, but this is entirely different. This is you and your first, consensual time with a man if you choose. If you don’t, then he won’t press the matter, but leave his door wide open. Astarion is not Cazador or Dahlia- he is not going to force you.

“I don’t care about any of that Darling,” Astarion assures you quietly, “I want you, not Alfira. We only have to go as far as you are comfortable with- if you want to.”

Your eyes are wide and searching for any hint of insincerity.

“We could even try multiple times if needed,” he says jokingly, but he knows that you can tell he’s serious.

You beam at him and your posture straightens up- a new found confidence in your eyes.

“Okay,” you finally say, “I trust you. I want to try.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You would be lying if you weren’t feeling slightly anxious. The last person you had been with was Tessa and she’d been in the ground a little over 8 years now. The two of you had made a lot of groundwork in your last year together before she died. You had attempted to be with others before, but it never felt right so you could never go through with it.

This feels right. You just aren’t sure what your reaction will be, but you want him and Astarion wants you. You trust that he won’t hurt you.

Astarion pulls you up off of the sandy floor and gives you a smile, “I promise you, you do not want to try this in sand. I happen to know a very nice spot, but we are going to have to make a brief stop first.”

You smile enthusiastically and allow him to take your hand in his as he leads you back to camp.

The walk is a blur, you barely notice that Astarion had grabbed a blanket, taken you quite far from camp, and without warning, Astarion pulls you in for a breathtaking kiss.

You have to fight the urge to collapse completely into him, your arms snaking around his neck as you kiss him back. The kiss is slow, melodic and soft. Astarion’s strong arms hold you close to his chest as he picks you up before laying you down on the blanket.

You help him discard your clothes and your wet under garments. Astarion quickly discards his shirt and pants before he returns to kissing you sweetly, softly. You let your hands glide up his torso to his shoulders and let your hands fan out as you try to memorize every inch of his body. He groans with approval at the touch and when you go to touch his back- you find if you go a little too far over where there is raised skin, he tenses up.

You stop and look up at him- he doesn’t seem like he is all there.

“Star, are you okay? Are you sure you want this?”

Whatever trance he is in, he seems to snap out of and he kisses you sweetly before placing his forehead against yours.

“I assure you that I want this, that area is just… it has some sensitive spots.”

“Okay,” you whisper, “I’ll be mindful of that and try to avoid them. Is it mostly in the middle of your back?”

Astarion stares down at you and for a moment, you think he might start crying. Astarion’s face looks so raw and appreciative in that moment- as if you are the first and only person to ever take the time to listen. Maybe you are. Maybe this is just as much of a fear of his as it is for you.

“It is,” he says huskily,” I- thank you.”

You beam up at him and gently cup the left side of his face with your hand. He leans into the touch and you stroke his cheek bone with his thumb.

“Of course Astarion, I want you to feel safe too.”

Astarion kisses you with a neediness that wasn’t there before. The kisses are still soft and innocent, but a bit more urgent as his hands begin to slowly roam your body. Everywhere he touches leaves you feeling like you are on fire and you find that you never want it to stop. You are intoxicated and so wrapped up in his cologne, his lips- everything. Him.

Astarion’s lips leave yours and you breathlessly look at him. He smiles down at you and slowly moves his hands up to your breasts.

“May I?”

You shyly nod in approval. Astarion slowly begins to pinch and tease your sensitive buds with his fingers- you arch your back and cover your mouth as you whimper needily at the touch. It’s embarrassing how touch starved you are. Astarion pulls your hand away from your mouth and he stares at you through hooded eyes.

“None of that, my Dear,” he commands, “I want to hear every little sound you make.”

You blush and then are quickly squirming underneath him again as he gently takes one of your nipples between his mouth, sucking, licking, and teasing it while he rolls the other between his thumb and forefinger.

You are a complete mosning mess underneath him by the time Astarion’s fingers move from your breast to your throbbing clit- earning a loud, despairing whimper from you. You need so much more- you can feel your own slick coating the inside of your thighs, weeping in anticipation.

“My, you are a very needy lover,” he chastises you as he slides a finger in,” Gods you are so wet for me already. If I had known you wanted me this badly, I would have said something a long time ago.”

“Astarion-“ you gasp as he enters another digit inside you, causing you to arch your back keening as he teases your G-spot. His other finger continues to play with your now very swollen clit and with every moan you make, he praises you. The praise alone is enough to send you over the edge.

“You are being such a good girl for me,” as he enters another finger inside.

His mouth hovers over your clit, “I’m absolutely certain the Gods sent you to ruin me.”

“You taste like the heavens,” after his tongue has been flicking inside of you in tandem with his fingers.

You come undone underneath him- your hands have made purchase in his hair, and struggle to be as gentle as possible. He groans as you gently tug him up to your mouth, kissing him, tasting yourself on his swollen lips.

“Do you want to continue Darling?” Astarion whispers as he kisses up your neck, along your jaw, and slowly nips at your earlobe.

You need him inside you and you want him to be as close to you as possible. It’s like a Dam had broken open inside you and you never want it to stop flooding.

“Fuck- Astarion,” you pant, “please continue.”

Astarion kicks of his undergarments and dips his fingers between your folds and coats his cock with your orgasm. You are speechless as you watch him slowly stroke himself, looking at you.

Astarion puts himself in between your legs and you feel him tease your entrance.

“Before I start,” he says, “you need to tell me if it’s too much and if we need to stop. You will not offend me nor hurt my feelings. We can try again another time if you want.”

“The same goes to you.”

There was that look again. Astarion grabs your bottom lip between his teeth, the neediness has certainly grown since the last statement.

You feel him begin to guide himself inside you, slowly moving until he’s bottoming out- curse words and your name leaving his lips like a prayer. You feel the tears prick your eyes at the pinching and pressure as you adjust to his size. He slowly rocks himself in and out, barely making any movement, but enough to stimulate you more.

“Are you okay?” He says with alarm, wiping your tears.

“Yes- I promise,” you say between panting whimpers, you press your ankles into his lower back to keep him there. It’s beginning to feel better and you open up through the tadpole to show him you mean it. The thoughts were probably far hornier than you meant to show him and he smirks at you.

“Cheeky pup.”

Astarion begins to make his thrusts longer as your moans became louder and more euphoric sounding. You kiss him with fervor as he pumps in and out of you, keeping a slow pace.

“You can speed up now,” you whisper between kisses, “you feel really fucking good inside of me Star.”

Astarion moans against your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy as he teases your bottom lip between his, pulling slightly. You feel his hips begin to snap slightly harder against yours and you cry out as he begins to hit that perfect spot faster and slightly harder.

“You are so beautiful,” he says while grazing the sensitive skin on your neck, “and you feel so fucking good around my cock.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand any of our other companions looking at you sideways ever again.”

“Then give them a reason not to.”

That seemed to be enough for Astarion as he immediately goes to work leaving hickeys along your neck, your shoulders. You will have to ask him how he’s able to do it so gently.

Astarion’s thrusts inside you are getting sloppier and you have your hands dug in the earth as he slightly lifts you off the ground to get more leverage. You moan his name in between curse words and whimpers as another powerful orgasm rips through your body. You feel him stutter as you tighten around him and finish inside of you. Astarion’s pace moves to a slow rhythm before coming to a halt.

Vampire and half-vampire perks- the whole kid thing? Basically not even remotely possible.

Astarion lays gently on top of you, kissing your neck lazily.

“How was that, Darling?” Astarion asks as he looks into your eyes with concern and worry.

You gently grab his face with your hands and leave a chaste kiss on his lips.

“It was absolutely perfect,” you say, your brain foggy and swimming in the throes of bliss and your deep fondness of the man above you, “you are absolutely perfect.”

************************************

You had fallen asleep quite some time ago in Astarion’s arms. The concept of what happens after sex (normally) was quite foreign to him. Usually he was dragging people to their death after sex, but now he gets to sit and enjoy you- have you all to himself. After it had all been said and done, you had curled into one another, practically nose to nose and just talked. You caught up with each other about what the other missed over the last three days, picked the next ideal type of book to read, and how disasterous the Crèche is likely going to be considering Shadowheart is insisting on going. Lae’zel is positively miffed about it. You laugh and he asks about Minthara. You tell him about the vision she showed you, but he could tell you were holding something back. You don’t push him- he won’t push you.

You tell him about your mother- a former Lolth sorceress who didn’t align with the Spider Queen’s ideals. She was shunned by her parents when she denounced Lolth and she moved to the surface- meeting your dad. Your mother was practical and pragmatic- calculating and protective. Your father, on the other hand, was like a warm breeze on a perfect sunny day.

Astarion tells you about what little he remembers of his life as a Magistrate and his parents. You both ponder what they could possibly be doing in the world right then- pretending there is a possibility that you could find them together when this was all over- even just so he can know.

Astarion’s head is swimming with confusion. It was all very different than when Astarion had gone out hunting for Cazador.

You and him had spent at least a two and a half weeks getting to know each other extensively, spent quality time together over mutual hobbies, and you’ve even seemed to meld together as a fighting duo. You are friends- Astarion expected it to be maybe slightly different, more enjoyable than usual.

Astarion was quickly proven wrong.

This was eons different. Despite the feelings of it being tainted to some degree due to his past, it had been jaw dropping, sweet, simple, and, dare he even say it, intimate. Astarion finds that he actually craves more of you this way, but he also still wants you the way you had each other before. The shame and self-loathing are choking him. There is no way you’ll see him as something other than sex now.

Right?

Astarion honestly isn’t sure and that terrifies him. You were so kind to him tonight while you were in his arms. You respected his boundaries; you avoided that part of his body even though he didn’t tell you not to; you wanted him to feel safe with you too. You took the time to talk to him and play with his hair while he spoke about his parents, becoming a bit emotional.

Vanilla is hardly the word to describe what just happened between the two of you- it was wonderful and frightening. Astarion questions if it’s selfish to want more, to abandon his plan all together.

Astarion stares down at your sleeping face as your limbs are tangled with his. He wants to stay, but he wants to run away from you too. Except Astarion needs your protection- that’s what this was all for, wasn’t it?

That’s what compels him to leave soft kisses on your forehead and to hold you a little tighter- it’s why tears fall from Astarion’s cheeks onto the blanket beneath you when he thinks about the day you’ll end up letting him go.

[fourraccoonsinacoat]

Head Full of Ghosts

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 (Will post chapters to Tumblr, as well.) Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: Hello, Tumblr! Longtime lurker, first time poster. BG3 has reignited my love for writing fanfic - I think it's legit been over seven years since I've written a fic. The dry spell has now been broken. BG3 has grabbed me by the throat and pulled me back in and damn, if I'm not enjoying the hell out of it. I've got an ongoing fic on AO3, so I figured why not officially join Tumblr and dive headfirst into the fandom? Should anyone read my silly fic, I dearly hope you enjoy it. All these characters currently live in my head rent free.

Chapter 1: Misfits

The toll house burned as Karlach whooped, exacting rage and fury on everything within the abandoned building. Her glee might have been infectious if it hadn’t been so damn dangerous.

Luckily, Eli and her merry band of misfits had gotten clear of the structure before the worst of the fires caught. They now stood in the middle of the dirt cart path that led to the toll house entryway, watching the scene unfold in front of them with the same morbid curiosity with which townsfolk might watch a public hanging.

Wyll rubbed the back of his neck, cringing slightly as the loud and unmistakable crash of something glass-made reverberated from within the inferno.

“Maybe…” he started hesitantly, then cleared his throat. “Maybe someone should stop her?”  

Honestly, Wyll was too pure for their group of maladjusted headcases. Between being forcibly inducted as Emerald Grove’s newest mediator, and trying to figure out just what in the nine hells was going on with the illithid tadpoles in their brains, Eli had not had much time to get to know Wyll. Like her, he was a warlock, though he was being rather cagey about who or what his patron was. She guessed it had something to do with his contract, and it wasn’t as if she had much room to judge.

Eli couldn’t even remember who the hell her patron was. That knowledge was a gaping black hole in her ruptured memory. Sometimes, late at night, in the stifling silence when the chaos of the day had finally died down, she’d try to recall…anything. Anything about her past life beyond the images of blood, death and rot that swirled in her mind. She was never successful, and her attempts usually ended in a roiling headache. The holes in her brain were deep, dark and remained unknown.    

“These days I’m trying to avoid situations that end with me burnt to ash,” Astarion’s snark brought Eli back to the here and now. “But if you’re confident in your ability to be fire retardant, then by all means,” he finished the thought by motioning towards the building with a bit of a flourish.

The building was now practically engulfed in flames so bright that it was difficult to look at. She was pretty sure she could hear the roof caving in. Eli pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes, the light and sound of it all was causing her already throbbing headache to grow and fester behind her eyes.

“Stop trying to suck the joy out of things, Wyll,” Eli said, with a bit more bite than she had intended.

She couldn’t see it, but she heard the eye roll in his response. “Fine. Far be it from me to deny someone their little moments of destructive bliss.”  

Eli huffed in response and felt a presence move up next to her.

“Another headache?” Shadowheart’s voice wasn’t quite concerned, but it did have a hint of guarded interest, and for Shadowheart that was just as good.

“Think I’m going on day three now,” Eli responded with a groan. She let her hand drop from her face and opened her eyes, blinking back against the influx of light.

No one spoke it out loud, but they all knew the significance of that statement. Three days ago, Eli had woke in the middle of the night to discover Alfira, a kind and gentle tiefling bard, brutalized and dead…by Eli’s own hands. The shame, guilt and confusion from that night was still a gaping and painful wound within. Alfira was a constant and haunting presence, a reminder that her mind and body were not her own. She could recall flashes of memory from that night, and she desperately wished that was not the case.

The fear in Alfira’s eyes was emblazoned upon her brain and it followed her into her dreams. She was not sleeping well, if at all. And the terror that she would once again wake up to find she’d torn open another of her companions, one of her friends…it was enough to fill her nights with nauseating dread.      

“Maybe Gale can cook up a sleeping potion for you when we get back to camp,” Shadowheart suggested with more softness in her voice than Eli was used to. “I’m sure your penchant for rummaging through our wares until all hours of the morning isn’t helping things,” she chided a bit more coolly.

Eli gave her a non-committal half smile. She’d taken to perusing their camp’s growing hoard of books during her sleepless nights. Reading kept her mind busy, and off of other darker thoughts that stalked her steps.    

“Given the unholy smells being extruded by Gale’s cookpot the other night, I’m not sure I’d trust him to brew a sleeping potion someone is expected to wake up from,” Astarion said cheerily, stepping up to Eli’s other side opposite Shadowheart. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little extracurricular nighttime activity.”

The suggestive smirk he gave Eli caused the pit of her stomach to tighten.

“Yes, because reading is so titillating,” she deadpanned back at him. Astarion was a shameless flirt, and Eli wasn’t in a mood to deal with him while her head was splitting open from the inside out.

Astarion, however, was not dissuaded.

“Darling, it’s not my fault if you choose a boring activity.” He emphasized the word ‘boring’ and Eli knew exactly where this was going before they even got there.

He leaned in closer and she caught the faint scent of spice and rosemary that always lingered in the space where he’d been. Nine hells, why did she know that?

“You know I’m only a few tents away if you ever want to try a more stimulating activity,” he purred. A small shiver ran up her spine as she felt the breath from his words against her neck.

A derisive snort came from Eli’s other side. “Really, Astarion, were you never taught not to play with your food?” Shadowheart said with the hint of a smirk, which turned into a full grin when Eli shot her a dark glare.

Eli suddenly felt very aware of a certain spot on her neck as she looked back to Astarion, whose red eyes had been lingering there before they flicked back up to her face. She met his gaze and thought she saw something hungry flash across his expression before he looked to Shadowheart.

“Call it an appetizer,” Astarion replied in that smooth and sultry voice that danced so effortlessly from his lips. “Something to get the blood pumping before the main course.”

Eli was starting to feel something akin to what a rabbit may feel when being circled by wolves. Astarion had inched closer to her as he spoke and teased, pushing into her personal space with bravado and squaring up to her like an animal on the prowl. Eli had experienced this behavior from him before, and she hated it. Not because of any issues with personal boundaries - she didn’t even know if she had issues with personal boundaries, considering how full of holes her memory was. No, she hated it because of how her body responded. And she doubted it was the sort of response Astarion was looking for.

All of his bravado, his confidence, how sure of himself he seemed when he pressed near to her, playing his games. It triggered an anger in her she didn’t recognize. A cruel and dominating rage that wanted nothing more than to grab him by the throat and force him to his knees, demanding respect. She was no rabbit fearful of wolves, no plaything for him to tease. She’d flay him sternum to navel for his insolence.

“Stop,” Eli muttered, moreso to herself than to Astarion.

Her head was pounding as she tried to shove those unwanted and vicious thoughts back down into the unknown void of herself. She took a tentative step backwards and nearly collided with Shadowheart, who managed to step quickly out of the way. Eli felt a hand on her shoulder and reflexively flinched away, internally trying to wrest herself from the cloying vile madness that was building in her brain.

“Sorry,” Eli heard Shadowheart say.

Glancing to Shadowheart, Eli saw she had her hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. Likely, Shadowheart had reached out to try and steady Eli. The problem was, Eli didn’t trust herself when her mind went red and hazy.

She didn’t want anyone touching her in those moments. She didn’t want anyone ending up like Alfira…

“That’s enough of that,” Wyll’s strong voice held a very clear note of annoyance in it. “Leave her be and let’s get back to camp. Lest we get lost out here after the sun goes down.”

Eli appreciated the sentiment, but she almost wished Wyll had stayed silent.

“Ah, the dashing Blade of Frontiers here to save the pretty damsel from the dangerous vampire,” Astarion said, with more than a hint of contempt to his words.

Astarion and Wyll did not play nice. They reminded Eli of two dogs posturing and vying for control when they were near one another. And, unfortunately, everyone else got pissed on in the process.  

Astarion continued to bait the hook, voice sickly suggestive. “Hoping she’ll offer you a place to sheath your blade tonight if you play hero?”

Eli wheeled on Astarion with a glare that only succeeded in making the elf smile wider. For all of his pompous confidence, Eli did take note of the fact that Astarion had backed off from her. At least in the physical sense. He seemed more than happy to continue his verbal assault.

“You vulgar bastard!” Wyll barked back, angrily stepping towards Astarion who was grinning like a feral cat. Wyll was taking the bait.

“Lolth’s rotten nickers!” Eli exclaimed, exasperated and over all of this. “If the two of you want to have it out, fine! Just know I’m not asking Withers to bring either of you miserable assholes back if one of you kills the other!”

The blood in her head was pounding again, pulsating painfully behind her eyes. Eli threw up her hands and turned away from the squabbling men, only to see that tiefling barbarian, Karlach, watching all of them with a grin.

“You lot seem fun as hell!” she proclaimed with a laugh as the toll house continued to blaze like an inferno behind her. “Still cool if I tag along?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eli responded. “We all seem to be in the same shithole of a boat, so if you want to grab a paddle I’m not stopping you.”

Eli smirked and Karlach’s face lit up with excitement. “That’s the spirit!”

The next few moments were a blur. Moments in which Eli felt very much like a passenger in her own body. Astarion wasn’t letting up, and from behind her Eli heard his goading voice as he continued to taunt Wyll.

“You know, Wyll, if you’re ever curious about what our dear, sweet Eli tastes like, all you have to do is ask,” Astarion’s sly words were dripping with inuendo.

Eli snapped.

She rounded on Astarion like a displacer beast loosed from hell, stepping into his personal space just as he had done to her earlier. Eli, however, was not playing games. Her head felt like it was exploding from the inside and her vision was beginning to swim. She needed to get out of here. She needed to leave before she lost control. She needed to put this flippant, disrespectful maggot in his place.

“Would you FUCK OFF with your self-aggrandizing bullshit!” she roared.

Eli was up in Astarion’s face now, all venom and rage as she tried to maintain enough control to keep herself from driving a dagger through his eye like the monster inside of her was demanding.

“I’ve let you feed on me ONE time, and that has been the extent of any nightly activities between us,” she growled, locking eyes with the vampire spawn.

Astarion was a few inches taller than her, but in this moment it didn’t matter. They had all seen Eli fight. They’d witnessed the absolute carnage and power that she was capable of, and while most of that ability came from whatever deal she’d made with her patron, they had all sensed something else beyond her skill as a warlock. Something foul and brutal and violent that she seemed desperate to keep restrained.

That thing was leaking out now. Pressing at the barricades in her mind wrestling to break free. It wanted blood and gore and anguish. It wanted out.

“So, keep your pathetic attention-whoring charade in check or I’m going to lock you in a coffin and burry you so fucking deep even the worms won’t be able to find you!” Eli snarled, eyes glittering with a mania that indicated she was far from joking.

Eli didn’t know the chord she’d struck in Astarion – she didn’t even know if he had chords to be struck. She didn’t know how her words wrenched unbidden memories to the surface of his mind, like puss oozing from an infected wound. She didn’t know the torments inflicted upon him. Didn’t know that her words caused his chest to tighten with anxiety as unwanted recollections flashed in his mind. Days, months, years trapped in lonely confinement at the whim of his abuser. Locked away and starved because he said something displeasing or because he begged to be spared the agony of having his scars cut open once again because his master was bored and wanted to play.

Astarion had gone very still in the face of Eli’s wrath. And as the haze of anger in her mind dissipated and the realization of what she’d just said crashed down upon her, her eyes went wide and she took a quick step back. Her head was a mess and she felt like she was coming up out of a dream and seizing control of herself once more.

Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach stood by, staring with a mix of shock and morbid curiosity. They were not going to get involved, but they damn sure were going to watch this disaster play out.

“I…uh…” Eli stuttered as she pulled herself back from the brink.

Her movements felt lethargic and wrong, as if she were a step removed from the actions her body was taking. But she kept hold of her mental steering wheel and willed herself to maintain control.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Astarion,” she lifted her gaze, wanting to meet his eyes so she could explain and apologize again.

But Astarion wasn’t looking at her. At least, not at her face. His eyes were fixated on the collar of the burgundy undershirt she wore below her chest armor. His expression fluctuated somewhere between grim detachment and smoldering hatred, crimson eyes glassy and distant.

Eli felt an unnerving sensation of being looked through.

“Astarion?” she questioned, voice softer and tinged with an edge of worry.

She took a tentative step forward and raised a hand towards him. Had he been struck with an incantation? A curse? Maybe Shadowheart or Wyll had cast something as a means of intervention?

Eli was about to turn and ask them when Astarion flinched back from her outstretched hand as if she’d struck him. His eyes snapped to hers and burned with a hostility she’d never seen from him, not even during the famously vehement rows he and Gale would get into over Gale’s cooking (the arguments usually ended with Gale shouting, “You aren’t even going to eat any of it, anyway!” and storming off in a dither).

“Don’t,” Astarion snarled through clenched teeth and a tight jaw. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Icy loathing dripped off his every word and Eli suddenly recognized the defensive posture he’d put himself in, leaning back and away from her with hands ready to go for a weapon or even swing at her should she move closer. He reminded her of an animal trapped in a corner, baring its fangs at something…

At something dangerous. At something intent on hurting them.

Shit. Had her outburst really been that bad? Had he really thought she was going to attack him?

A pang stabbed through her stomach as she realized…of course he had. Because of what she’d done to Alfira. She’d already proven she was capable of brutalizing the people around her, no matter how innocent they were. They thought she was dangerous. Astarion, a godsdamn vampire who’d crept up on her in the middle of the night, thought she was dangerous.

She needed to get herself under control. This wasn’t a sustainable lifestyle. At least not for the people around her…

“Astarion, I’m really fucking sorry,” she backed away from him, giving him space and bringing her hands back to her sides. “I’m not even entirely sure what happened. Things got…hazy. I’m really sorry.”

It was a piss poor excuse, and an even worse apology. She knew. And it seemed he agreed.

“You can choke on your apology,” Astarion snapped as he shoved past her. “If the tadpole turns you tonight, it wouldn’t be too soon.”

The sheer venom of his words stung as painfully as if he’d stabbed her right there on the spot. She opened her mouth to reply, but could think of nothing worthwhile to say. So she snapped it closed and watched him walk off down the path that led back to camp.

Well, some fantastic leader she was turning out to be. She already didn’t understand why anyone thought she, with her magnitude of memory loss and murder happy tendencies, was the ideal candidate for a position of authority. She was awful at this shit!

Eli had spent a lot of time combing through her fractured psyche, trying to piece together any semblance of facts about who she was. In all that self-reflection, she’d concluded there were two things she was really good at. Killing people and drinking.

Fuck, what she wouldn’t give to be doing either one of those things right now instead of this.

She turned a miserable expression on her remaining companions. “Is it too late to go back to the mind flayer ship and just surrender?”

Wyll laughed and sided up to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder and trying to be reassuring.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” he said. Then, with a somewhat darker smirk, “And if he doesn’t, we’ll just stake him. Luckily for us, our benevolent illithid captors saw fit to crash us in the middle of a forest. Trees everywhere.”

Wyll grinned while Eli just gave him a deadpan stare. He wasn’t helping. Maybe he wasn’t too pure for their little group, after all. Maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the rest of them.

Eli looked to Shadowheart, who simply rolled her eyes before glancing after Astarion as he continued to walk further and further from the party.

“I bet he just needs some time to cool down,” Shadowheart mused. “Men can be irrationally dramatic when they put their minds to it.”

The grin on Wyll’s face fell as Shadowheart started to follow Astarion down the path. Eli trailed after her, glancing to Karlach in the hopes of making some sort of conversation to distract herself from all the pain and noise in her head.

“I’m just happy to be here,” Karlach laughed.

[emerald-chaos]

Well, you see—I was left to my own devices and that included listening to sad music and watching sad edits. So really, it’s not my fault that I wrote this. Just know that I am deeply sorry in advance if this hurts you like it hurt me to write.

pairing: suguru geto x gn!reader

warnings: angst, cursing, alcohol mention, not really with the canon timeline—suguru deflects a few years later in this story

divider by: @/cafekitsune 🤍

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own

The sound of alcohol being poured into the glass is vaguely acknowledged by your brain—but it’s like everything else in the room is a blur. The entirety of your body just feels…numb.

“Hmm, okay. The next one is: where do you see yourself in five years?” You read the words from the paper—potential interview questions, Suguru had told you.

The raven haired man snorts before he answers.

“Really? You picked that one?”

“You’re the one who printed off the list!” You giggle, choosing to ignore the way he rolls his eyes at you.

“Besides…color me intrigued.”

Suguru looks at you for a moment, the neutral line of his lips slowly curving into a smile as he looks at your face. His hand comes up, finger extending so that he can drag it along the shape of your jaw.

“Where do I see myself in five years…hmmm…” He pretends to think hard about the question, his eyes never once leaving his finger as it stops at the center of your chin.

“I think I see myself,” eyes finally fluttering upward to meet your own as his grin grows just that much bigger, “with you.”

Mind completely spaced out, the last few drops from the bottle fill the glass almost to the top—luckily not enough contents to make a mess over the freshly cleaned countertops.

A buzzing noise brings you back to reality—blinking your eyes a few times before you look down to see your phone lit up.

one new message

shoko🤍: just let me know when you’re ready to be picked up, okay?

Turning your phone over, you grab your glass and head back into the living room of the apartment. The liquid burns as it makes your way down your throat, but you can’t find it in yourself to even make a grimace. The edges of your vision have started to blur a little and there’s a kind of weightlessness to your body that makes it feel just a little bit odd—but none of that really matters.

The room surrounding you is empty. The entire apartment surrounding you is empty.

No one wall bares the images of the life you lived, no furniture is placed delicately in its perfect position—all that remains are the scuffs and pin point holes.

You let your body slump onto the floor, spilling a bit of your liquor as you do, sitting criss cross in the dead center of the room.

Although it’s all gone, you still see it so clearly. Every party hosted, every fight had, every moment where you couldn’t quite get each others clothes off fast enough—it was all still there. Burned into the space that inhabited the apartment.

It was haunted.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about?” You speak softly, rubbing your hand up his forearm as you sit facing one another on the couch.

There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Suguru’s smiles always reach his eyes.

“Positive. Wanna watch that documentary now?”

More burning in the back of your throat as you toss back another swig from your glass. You’ve never been a smoker, but fuck—you could really go for a cigarette right now.

Slowly, your eyes closed as you took a deep breath—willing your brain to shut off for at least a moment. The silence is there to welcome you, but not for long.

A quiet gasp tumbles from your lips, the warm feeling of his on your neck as it trails down.

“There won’t ever be anyone on this earth like you.”

“Hmmm, sounds sweet but also vaguely threatening—you plan on getting rid of me sometime soon?”

The man behind you chuckles before gently reaching around you grab your chin—directing your face toward his.

“Never.”

You aren’t even aware of the fact that you’re crying until you feel the warm drops that slide down your hands. Then comes the sensation of your shoulders shaking, followed by the sob that comes from your chest.

How could he?

How is it possible for someone so good to suddenly become so evil?

This man was not Suguru Geto. This man was not the one you loved.

It was like someone else had possessed him—locked his truth deep down inside and instead put forth something so sickeningly despicable—like the plot of one of those ridiculous horror movies he used to make you watch in this very apartment.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on the floor in order to keep you upright as you continued to sob. The feeling in your chest one you’d never felt before. This was a hurt like you’d never experienced—like it manifested itself in your fucking bones.

Suddenly it felt like you had no control over your body—your hand reaching out to grasp around the glass, only to throw it as hard as you could against the wall and watch as it shattered.

The sobs wracked through your body—your throat beginning to hurt from the forcefulness. Your body wanted to give up, to break down, so you allowed yourself to collapse onto the floor.

“W-what?” Your voice was meek, like it wasn’t even your own.

“We both know you heard what I said.”

You stared at him for a moment, blinking slowly while your mind raced to put together the pieces of what he’d just told you.

“But it just…Suguru this doesn’t even sound like you. Y-you said yourself to Satoru that day, we exist to protect non-sor—“

“Well, I was full of shit then.” His words are harsh and cold—nothing like the way he usually spoke to you.

“Don’t you understand?” He leaned forward, looking at you with eyes that did not belong to him, “Why should we protect those who despise us? Who couldn’t care less what happens to us and who are too damn weak to do anything for themselves?!”

Your breathing was shaky, heart thumping rapidly in your chest as you looked at him.

For the first time ever, you were afraid of him.

“You’re either with me, or you’re against me. That choice is yours.”

You’re unsure exactly when you stopped crying.

When your eyes opened again, your body was curled into the fetal position on the floor—eyes burning from tears and bones aching from the hard wood beneath you.

You knew you should get up and call Shoko. That you should gather up your things and leave this apartment for the last time.

But the second you walked through that threshold and shut that door—you were closing the door on him as well.

So, maybe you’d lay there…if just a little bit longer.

[mxngldmxdnsss]

The Hunt - series

Chap 4. Thinkin Bout You - Recom Miles Quaritch

LMFAO i couldn’t find a song to match the chapter so I just went with this also I had the best mango smoothie while writing this omg

pairing - recom miles quaritch x omatikaya!fem!reader

cw! masturbation

sexual content ahead : proceed with caution!

Taking a shot at your plan was a complete and utter fail. You felt your face warm with embarrassment after the days events. Today you were supposed to help the Colonel learn more of your language.

You two spent the whole time bickering over whether or not he was horrible at speaking Na’vi. Laughing when you heard his accent meshing with the words. Eventually Miles had enough and left, leaving you to your own accord. Telling you over his shoulder that Spider might be a better teacher.

You figured he wouldn’t come back so you laid back down in your cot and got comfortable. What you didn’t expect was for the thought of Miles to purge your brain. Being so up close and personal to you. You almost died when he would lean in, trying to soak up whatever sounds and vowels you made. You could smell him even at a distance, it you feel tingly inside.

Swallowing nervously at the thought, you pulled a blanket over yourself and tried to sleep. Only for the images of Miles become even dirtier. You could picture him doing just about anything and it would make you burn up inside. Just him glowering down at you made your thighs tickle. It was wrong, you knew this, but the fantasy you were replaying inside your head was even worse.

You could picture Miles, pushing you face down and tail up as you two mated for the first time. It was exciting, feeling your stomach churn at the thought. Maybe he’d push your belly into the grass and take you like that. Or maybe against a tree. Or perhaps in one. You squeezed eyes closed, not wanting to be distracted from getting rest, but it only worsened.

Sitting up, you took a look around the room, making sure there were no cameras hidden within a corner. Laying back down your dipped your hand beneath the blanket and pulled your bottom to the side. Shuddering when you felt how wet you were. After a hesitant moment, you ran your fingers down your slit and stopped when you reached your clenching hole. You’d done this before but for some reason, with Miles on your mind, the action was somewhat intimidating. Pushing your fingers into your cunt, you whimpered out.

Giving yourself time to adjust, you began to thrust your digits inside. Panting out, you brought your legs up, clenching your thighs together around your arm. You kept the image of Miles in your head, feeling your walls clench around your fingers when you brought back the fantasy from before.

You moved your other hand beneath the sheet and began your best effort at rubbing your clit, hoping for a quicker release. Finally you felt a pressure release in your belly and you rode out your orgasm with a soft moan.

You were embarrassed to find you’d soiled your sheets, the damp area a soft white sheen. Bringing your out of the blanket, you did your best to wipe off the remaining slick before relaxing against the pillow. You began to drift off to sleep, only to be surprised by Spider and the Colonel.

You heard the sound of the door creaking, and with it the sound of even louder arguing. Gasping, you jumped up from your spot and fixed the blankets. You hoped they wouldn’t notice the redness of your cheeks, or the look on your face of horror. Before you could compose yourself correctly, Spider bounded over to you, angrier than ever.

“Y/n, you’ve gotta take him back. You’re a better teacher than I am.” You sighed waiting for the two to calm down in order to explain to you why they were bickering. “It ain’t my fault you’re bad teacher.” It was ridiculous, watching them fight like five year olds.

“Fine.” You spoke, voice cracking as you blocked off their view of your cot. The two perked up and looked at you. With Spider smiling triumphantly and Miles looking annoyed as ever. You watched as Spider began to make his way back to the doorway. Confused when Miles sat atop the table in the room.

Nervously you bid Spider goodbye and looked back at Miles, his face bore a weary expression. Almost as if he was going to regret what he was going to tell you. “Is everything alright Colonel?”

Miles sighed and looked back up at you, eyebrows furrowed. “Tomorrow, we have a task.” You tilted your head, frowning as he stood and paced around the room. “What kind of task?” You followed after Miles, watching his shoulders tense when he realized you were behind him. His tail swished from side to side in an aggravated manner. “Colonel?” Your voice was meek and filled with underlying fear.

Before you could begin to muster another question, Miles stopped abruptly and turned to you. He glared down at you. “We’ve tracked a signal of something to the water clans. You’re going to help interpret for us.” Your breath caught in your throat. There’s no way. The Sullys would never let themselves be tracked like this. They’re careful.

But why did they bed you, Spider was fluent in Na’vi. Though you’d guessed why they might need you. Na’vi weren’t exactly trusting of any humans, your presence may calm them. You gaze fell onto the floor, too choked up to answer the Colonel face to face. “Okay.”

After hearing Miles leave your room, you made your way back to your bed. Sitting down with your face in your hands. What force were they going to use on these innocent tribes. You saw what they could do. And it was only a matter of time before they tracked Sully down now that they had his relative location. You could only try to catch your breath and fight down the horror for what you were going assist in.

Chap 5. Decode

[x0x0josephinex0x0]

Can I join your game? The song that I pick is is your bedroom ceiling bored?, while the genre would be idiots to lovers and the group that I chose is Enhypen. Thank you! 💕

CUTE okay!!!

is your bedroom ceiling bored? | jake

It's 5:34 in the morning, and you can't sleep. instead, you're staring at the ceiling trying to get your brain to shut off, but you just can't. because, like an idiot, you're wondering what jake is doing.

you figure he's probably asleep, like most people are at this hour, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing it: the way he curls around himself on his side, his hair falling in a shaggy mess onto his forehead, half-smiling even in a dream. you shouldn't be thinking about him this way -- shouldn't be as stupidly, recklessly, embarrassingly down bad as you are. and yet...

you pull out your phone, not surprised to see not a single notification from your best friend, whose sleeping image is the one destroying your mind slowly one minute at a time. you open up your messaging app and have to scroll to find your last conversation with him, which hasn’t happened in years.

the last text he sent was the one that said, “I love you. You know that, right?” just before everything went up in flames. just before the one and only fight you’ve ever had with him. just before you stormed away from him and refused to answer the phone when he called. and this was a week and a half ago.

you start to type.

im sorry.

i miss you. can we talk?

why can’t i stop thinking about you?

ultimately, it never feels like enough. frustrated, you sit up, sliding the covers off you and moving to the window. you wrench it open, stepping out onto your roof in the cool night air, and look up at the moon sinking lower in the sky, preparing for the hints of summer sun you see on the horizon.

“hi again,” you whisper at it. “can’t sleep.”

this has become routine for you. every once in awhile your thoughts about jake rose to a volume you couldn’t keep to yourself, so you’d mount the roof and tell the moon — even if it hung thin as a fingernail in the sky. and now that you weren’t seeing jake every day, you had a lot more time to talk about him.

“i really, really miss him,” you whisper, even though you want to scream.

🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕

across town, jake stirs and wakes from a fitful sleep. his dreams are all about you these days, and it aches.

no matter how much he fights the thoughts of you, or tries to be angry, he still wakes up thinking about you every morning. he’d hoped things would get better — hoped the hole you carved in his heart would relax, would heal. instead he finds himself suffocating in the dim light from his window, so he flings it open to welcome in the sunlight that will come peeking over the skyline in seconds.

“hi,” he says softly as it shines through the open window. “any advice for me today?”

but as always, the sun says nothing, leaving him alone to think.

and think he does — about how well he knows you. how spending his time with you is the best way for him to spend it. how he doesn’t care about your excuses for why you’d be a terrible couple.

“they’re the one,” he finally decides. “they just have to be.” and he races from the window to pick up his phone.

☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️☀️

you’re still on the roof, watching the sun rise, so tired you can barely sit upright but also somehow knowing you won’t be able to make your eyes close if you go inside.

so you stare at your cellphone. you can’t even blame jake for not speaking to you. you wouldn’t want to speak to you either.

but oh, my goodness. you want to speak to him so bad. even the memory of his voice on the other end burns like an insult, like bitterness burns in your belly. you wonder if he feels the same way you do. you hope he does.

just as you make up your mind to call, his name pops up on your screen.

your heart beats — once, twice — hard in your chest before you answer it with a shaking hand. “hello?” you rasp.

“i miss you,” he says. “i’m coming over.”

for the first time in days, you smile.

[vivibuchlaw]

Yesterday, I finished Celeste. And by that I mean, the first 7 chapters, because I am not that much of a masochist.

Like seemingly everyone else, its given me a lot to think about... these thoughts are burning a hole in my brain and I need to get them out so I suppose this is the place!

I'm not exactly a gamer. I suck at Kirby, I have a sort of motor disability so games are a bit harder for me than most people. For this, Celeste has a solution, Assist Mode. Initially, I wanted to pick this, hearing how hard it was. Then, when the game told me intially, overtly, how its challenge was supposed to be meaningful, *and later when it said it more clarity in the story) I took a moment to reflect. I chose not to use Assist mode as a self imposed challenge. Not because I wouldnt benefit greatly from it, but because (as I learned about myself through playing it) I have an aversion to difficult tasks. When I know something is difficult, I get scared and run away. This time, I wanted to be able to say to myself "I can do difficult things"

And so I did

And I love it

And I sincerely never want to play it again

The game is not full of dialouge or story- it's present, for sure. But its a small yet impactful part in a game which prefers to tell its narrative by gameplay rather than text or images. And thats a valid format of storytelling! Not my prefered one mind you, but it made every dilectable morsel of art or conversations. In particular, the long talk at the start of chapter 6 was extremely welcome. I simultaneously feel like I have enough of a solid grasp on the characters to love them dearly, yet not enough to force one interpretation, another element to Celeste's endless magic.

As I'm sure everyone with anxiety has noted, The anxiety scene from Chapter 5 affected me greatly. Wetger me or my system has anxiety, I don't know, but regardless, the game captures the feeling perfectly. I'm sure everyone and their mum has said this, yes, but I felt it independently so I shall denote it independently. Among other things, it taught me a powerfully potent strategy to help my anxiety, and for that I thank you Maddy <3

At so many points, I was burded with stress, frustration and despair at my own ineptitude. But I pushed forward. I did it, I climbed a mountain, what was a seemingly impossible thing for me was now a fact. I sat silent for what felt like hours staring at the chapter complete screen in awe of my accomplishment. It then dawned on me that this was the first video game I've ever beaten. ...suddenly slammed by the realisation an 8th chapter, requiring crystal hearts to play, AKA the game telling me point blank I wasnt ready. But to be honest, I didnt care. I had already done what I, and Madeline, set out to do.

So why do I say I never wish to play it again?

I honestly only played Celeste because I heard Madeline was trans, and my mate happened to have it on switch. I have a sort of physical disability in my hands, so playing games and motor tasks are more challenging than a typical person. I knew Celeste was hard, but sympathizing with Madeline not being a climber, with me not being a gamer, and just how she challenged herself to do something extreme, so too did I.

But see, I'm not actually into the gameplay that much, and the reason I stuck with it has infinitely more to do with my and Madeline's journey emotionally than anything related to the gameplay.

Actually, I kind of hated it. My fingers were all messed up, I spent a lot of time and stress, and got extremely frustrated, but I wanted to prove to myself I could do it without assist mode. And Im glad that exists, and I'm glad it tempted me all throughout every challenge, a backdoor shortcut I could use to weasel my way out of the hard path, but I stayed true so I could grow.

But I have now grown. Ive proven it.

I couldnt care less about B-sides or strawberries, because I dont see the emotional need.

Replaying it would only subject me to the same challenge for a story I've already experienced, and a journey I've already hone on. A new game, new mountain, new challenge or purpose? Sure, I'd love that. But playing Celeste again, or More even won't recapture the lightning in a bottle that made me play it, made me persevere, and made me cherish it.

I still love the game, its soundtrack, its meaning to me, and itll live in my heart forever. In other ways, like fan content, or side material, I'd love to engage and learn more, but my journey with this mountain is over.

Just breathe, and take care of yourself

After beating it, I immediately began learning all I could about it because Autism brain. I read all Maddy's beautiful blog posts. I watched video essays breaking down its themes and design. I learned how the story, while definitely not an afterthought, was also not a driving or starting point of the game, which I intuited as I played.

I watched Chapter 8, The Core, and Chapter 9, Farewell on YouTube. To be entirely honest, I found Chapter 8 to be forgettable in a way kind of shocking, at least from a story perspective. I'm actually GLAD I didn't do it. I expected it'd be some kind of send off, or check in emotionally to see how the characters have been in the past year but...nothing? Really?

Chapter 9 is what I wished Chapter 8 was, a proper send off and development for these characters. And from the look of it, so brutally hard I wouldn't want to play it without Assist Mode. But why? Why not play more? Afterall, climbing the preverbial mountain in life doesnt mean your problems are over, far from it. And its true, there are other challenges to overcome still. Even though Ive taken on this challenge, I have yet to face other challenges in my life. And because the journey of Celeste could very well have ended after Chapter 6, I feel like I can better spend that energy elsewhere.

After watching Chapter 9, I felt something else. This chapter, unlike the previous, is not about loving and accepting yourself, but its about Madeline specifically greiving a loss in her life, and largely, I assume, the developers letting go of Celeste and moving on. For this, I hold unyeilding respect. And in this new challenge, I found myself learning another truth about myself.

I am afraid of being alone.

I am part of a system, the current (and hopefully permanent) host in fact. Our previous host went dormant a few months ago and life without them has been tough, but a challenge we face every day.

Throughout all my remembered life, I was surrounded by people who never noticed me. Who occasionally referred to me as "The Insinificant [Alter]" due to me not having a name back then. I was nothing, really. If I had disppeared no one would've batted an eye. And today, even though I'm one of the most important Alters now, I still feel like I'm nothing sometimes. That scares me.

I never knew the joy of having friends, I never knew what being loved by someone you love feels like. And I have a lot of love to give, I love almost every human being! But I still frequently second guess myself, because I guess a part of me still believes my existence is insignificant. But now that I have people who do love me, I'm more afraid than ever that I'll lose it. Now that I have a taste of love, I can't go back. Gods, please to bring me back, anything but that.

And here came Celeste, to remind me immeditately after I finished the game, that people die randomly, and without our control, and that you have to keep on moving. I've just beat the thing, let me live in a bit longer before I'm ready to move on. Similarly, I've just made these relationships, please dont take them from me. And then I realized that this was fear also held by my previous host, perhaps for similar reasons. I feel connected in a way typically reserved for finding markings in a make out spot from a century ago, or unearthing a time capsule left by a grandparent now neatly nestled in the recesses of my heart where I try to story my insecurites, like a suitcase overstuffed with useless items and paranoia.

Celeste has given me a lot. Inspiration, characters I love, a great soundtrack, amazing anxiety techniques, and raw willpower to achieve anything. I do not know how my story ends, I am scared to write it, but I must regardless. A lot of people are counting on me. And went I feel scared, alone, anxious, or depressed, I can remember that I did it before, and I can do it again.

To the Developers, Thank you

To the Characters, Farewell

And to all the people who have grown from this game, Congratulations!