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kitten4sannie · 3 months

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ᴅᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ ᴄʀᴀᴡʟᴇʀ

ꜱᴇx ᴘᴏʟʟᴇɴ/ʙᴜᴋᴀᴋᴋᴇ ➠ ᴍɪɴꜱᴀɴʏᴜɴʜᴡᴀ

pairing: half orc! mingi x elf! reader (fem) x barbarian! san x goliath! yunho x tiefling! seonghwa

genre: fantasy au/dnd vibe, humor, gratuitous smut

summary: you go on a quest with a group of brutish, questionable individuals. anything for some gold and riches, right?

w.c: 6.5k ish…..yeahhhh

the world’s longest list of warnings: alcohol mention/usage, soft/hard! dom party members, brat in the streets baby in the sheets sub! reader, these mfs have a hard-on for social hierarchies esp mingi (he’s a big pervert too hehe), mxm (real homies jerk each other off), monster fucking (mimic box…listen i saw it in a porn one time and its been my dream to recreate it since okay sue meee take me to court!!), five?? some?? idk they made it work somehow, voyeurism/exhibitionism, praise/degradation, pet names, olfactophilia, aphrodisiacs, teasing, vast size differences, size kink, strength kink, manhandling, oral (receiving), overstim, tit play, bulge kink, handjob, blowjob, titjob, all the jobs actually, double penetration made possible with magic incantations <3, creampies, back shots, and facials for everyoneeee !! one for you!! and for youuu~~ also the word cock is mentioned at least 50 times in this one sorry bout that hshjs

a/n: hi ahhhh so this chaotic jumble of insanity is my baby 🥹 and it’s also my very first filth fest fic of the month !!! so yk what that means ;3 go on and strap in for me okay? it’s about to go down frfr <3 this is a sort of sequel to my half orc mingi fic but it can be read on its own! also i’ve never actually played dnd,, i’ve just heard about it from my brother so don’t expect an extremely accurate representation;;; i did do quite a bit of research tho <33 but yeah that being said…. rip reader’s elussy </3

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ᴅɪʀᴛʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙʏ ꜱᴛᴇᴇʟʏ ᴅᴀɴ

0:01 ❍─────── 3:01

Volume: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

ᴘʀᴇᴠ | ꜰꜰꜰ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

“Ladies and gents, now this is a quest that’s not for the faint of heart,” your local guild master announced, leaning his heavy forearms on the crowded bar table below him, stroking his long, bushy beard absentmindedly, the wood furnishing of the bar creaking underneath his weight.

The lively room grew a bit more quiet, some individuals quirking their heads in the seasoned barbarian’s direction, yours included. “With a hefty 1000 gold pieces as your reward, this quest requires you to find and locate the rare lujuria plant, then bring its seeds back to me. Unfortunately for you lot, they’re only found in the abandoned dungeons near Mist Falls. Any takers?”

At the mention of the plant and location, most of the interested individuals turned back to their ale and friends, resuming their loud, enthusiastic conversations. You, however, couldn’t believe how idiotic the other patrons were. You could do quite a lot with 1000 gold pieces, and being a solo adventurer, you wouldn’t even have to share it with anyone. With dollar signs in your eyes and a spring in your step, you headed up to the busy bar, having to get on your tippy toes and wave your hand around past some of the larger patron’s broad shoulders until the guild master noticed your presence.

“Now, don’t tell me a dainty little high elf is interested in the quest I just announced. You gonna scare them off with your shiny hair and sparkly crystals?” the older man gruffed, letting out a hefty laugh, before taking a couple gulps from the oversized mug he held within his large, calloused hands.

When you simply stood there with your hands crossed over your lace-covered chest, the guild master set his mug down, his bushy eyebrows raising upwards. “Oh, you’re serious.” He leaned down to your level, cupping his hand around one side of his face, allowing you to smell the ale on his breath. “Do you know why no one likes to go to Mist Falls, little Miss?”

You shook your head, causing the small jewels that dangled from your silky hair to sway a bit. You cupped a hand around your own face, murmuring, “Why does no one like it, Mister?”

“There’s some strange wildlife that frequent the land there. Otherworldly things…things that an elf like you wouldn’t want to get wrapped up in,” he explained carefully, looking over the lens of his glasses to squint at you. “Unless, you’re into that sort of thing, of course.”

Not understanding what he meant by his vague statement, you shrugged it off, taking his underestimation of your abilities as a challenge you couldn’t bear backing down from. “I’ll take the quest, Mister, and I’ll bring you those seeds.”

The guild master smiled down at you, chuckling a bit, like you weren’t in on the joke that he was so amused by. “Very well, little Miss.” He handed you the rolled-up scroll, his lips still curled into a suspicious smile. “Good luck with your quest.”

Taking the scroll, you nodded your head at him, a smug smile painting your own face, as you turned on your heels to leave, reveling in the fact that your levels of commitment and intelligence were clearly in the upper echelons compared to the rest of the idiots that frequented the crowded guild.

Before you could leave without any issues, a deeply familiar, incredibly cocky-sounding baritone voice interrupted your mental victory dance. “Would you look at that. Gonna handle a dungeon all on your own, eh, princess?”

You quickly turned your head, your eyes landing on the tall, solid beast of a half-man, half-orc standing with one hand resting on his leather-bound hip, his golden eyes slowly studying your body with an almost nauseating amount of interest. “Mingi…” you sighed, the events of your last few meetings flashing through your brain, the tips of your ears turning a faint red. “Oh, you think I can’t handle a stupid quest on my own either, huh?”

He shook his head, his shaggy silver hair falling in his eyes, forcing him to swipe it out of the way with his large ringed fingers. “Nope.” His simple response encouraged his equally large, equally intimidating party members, who were hanging out near him, to laugh and chatter amongst themselves.

Now your hands were on your hips, getting hit by a wave of annoyance, your cheeks burning. “Watch me.”

Mingi took a step towards you, just to show you and anyone nearby just how much he towered over you, his lips quirking up into a shit-eating grin, still peering down at your body like he could already picture what you looked like without the form-fitting lace dress that was wrapped around your curvy body like a pretty present, one that he wanted to open as soon as possible.

“With a petite little body like yours?” He reached down to slip a finger into your hair, playing with one of the crystals that adorned it. “Yeah, so small and delicate, like a pretty little fairy, ain’t ya? Those monsters in that dungeon will swallow you whole.”

You might’ve hated Mingi to an extent, but he was good. Good at making you feel tiny and desirable, and so wet, you were afraid he’d be able to smell it from where he was standing. You closed your thighs together slightly, lowering your closed fists to your sides, leaning forward. “I-i’m not a fairy, you dumb orc! I'm an elf! And I don’t need your help!” Just as you turned around to leave, Mingi cleared his throat, making you turn your head back to glare at him.

He placed his other hand on his hip, letting his weight shift to the opposite side, his head tilting the other way. “Sweetheart, listen, I know you’re very capable of getting what you want,” he mused, chuckling softly at the way your face scrunched up slightly in embarrassment. “But, I’m sure you could use some extra party members to back you up. Me and the boys want to help you. Won’t you let us?”

You gazed at Mingi a little while longer, before your eyes shifted to his friends, first drawn to the most elegant-looking tiefling you’ve ever seen. He had sleek skin that looked like expensive marble, his hair as white as the frost that would cover all the lands during the winter months, his heavy horns ridged and curled into an ‘s’ shape, and black as soot, his thin, pointed tail quietly slithering around in a snake-like motion behind the long black cloak that hung from his pointed shoulders.

“That’s Seonghwa,” Mingi informed, with his arms folded across his wide tattooed chest. “Doesn’t talk much, unless it’s to cast a spell or call me stupid.”

Seonghwa’s pretty lips formed a smirk, wrapping his arms comfortably around his slim, corseted waist, his sharp, milky eyes focused intensely on you, like he was peering through you and straight into your soul.

“Oh, are we introducing ourselves?” someone said excitedly, your eyes following the voice upwards until they landed on the handsome face of the gentle-looking goliath standing besides the tiefling. At roughly seven feet tall, the broad man sported shiny, golden locks, pretty brown eyes, and a tribal tattoo that was plastered on his veiny neck, clad only in a thick pelt that sat comfortably around his solid waist, wearing matching furry cuffs on his thick forearms. “I’m Yunho! I like to get drunk and smash stuff. What do you like to do, elf girl?” The goliath stepped forward to shake your hand, his hand completely encompassing yours, your neck almost hurting from having to look up at him.

“Hi, Yunho,” you replied, smiling softly, feeling a bit dizzy from your vast difference in sizes. Everything about him was just so big, you couldn't help but wonder what else was too. “I’m Y/N. I like to go on quests and collect gold.”

“Don’t tell me we’re actually going to help a high elf,” the last party member interrupted in a low voice, sneering, showing off his large, rounded canines when you looked past Yunho to scoff at him. “And an annoying one, at that. I don’t care if she’s fuckable. This is still a waste of time.”

Yunho put a large, warm hand on your shoulder, covering it completely. “Don’t take San’s words seriously, sweet. He bullies people when he likes them.”

The brooding barbarian folded his arms over the thick, furry pelt that covered his broad upper half, rolling his eyes, a few strands of his wild raven hair falling past his forehead. “Or maybe I just don’t like stuck-up little elven brats, ever think of that, Yunho?” His pronounced eyebrows joined together in a bout of sudden fury. “Huh? Can you even hear me up there, you oversized son of a bitch?”

A faint blush appeared on Yunho’s cheeks, smiling in San’s direction, before looking back down at you. “See? He loves me.”

You returned his smile with a grimace. “He loves being a dickhead too, apparently.”

“Excuse me?!” San growled, about to walk up to the both of you to prove that he only loved moonshine, his trusty club, and himself.

Mingi stepped in front of San, waving his hands around exasperatedly, wishing someone presented a dialogue skip option a long time ago, bored of the introductions. “Alright, alright, so are you coming with us, or not, princess? What’s the verdict?”

You rolled your eyes, opening the large entrance door of the guild, eventually letting out a long sigh, glancing back over your shoulder with a pout. You knew you had a slim chance of surviving without them, but you still had your pride. You let out a small hmph, annoyed when they still all just stood there waiting, encouraging you to stomp your silk shoe down on the ground, grumbling, “Ugh, are you coming, or what?”

Mingi and his friends chuckled amongst themselves and elbowed each other, amused by the amount of fiery zealousness your tiny body possessed, finishing their mugs of ale, eventually following you out of the guild and onto the dirt road.

“Hurry up! I wanna explore this dungeon today, not during the next winter solstice!” you called out to them, already at the forest entrance, tossing your head back in an exaggeratedly annoyed fashion.

The half-orc waved his hand around nonchalantly, despite his large lower canines growing more and more visible the more he began to smile, pulling out a small pair of lace panties that had a familiar design etched into them. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get your little elf panties in a twist,” he chuckled, bringing them up to his face to take a sniff.

Your inquisitive expression melted down into one of horror, then scrunched again, this time pleading him with his eyes. “Mingi…don’t tell me you’ve kept those all this time.”

“Of course I have, princess. In fact, I jerk off with them every chance I can in your honor. I can cum real hard just from knowing I turned a high elf onto orc cock forever. I still remember like it was yesterday,” he sighed dreamily, wiping away a fake tear, like had just said the most romantic sentence even known to orckind.

“I still fuck elves, you twat! I don’t need you or your stupid orc cock!” you argued, turning away so that none of them could see how flushed you had gotten, heading into the forest by yourself.

“That’s a damn lie. You showed up to my hut like three times during the Great Hunt not too long ago,” Mingi explained, following after you, his friends following beside him. “Don’t you remember? I had to carry you home after you passed out from squirting too hard.”

“No!” you shouted from ahead of him, swearing you were going to melt into the floor.

“She’s got elven pride, that one,” Mingi sighed, admiring you from behind. “Anyway, I got her soaked panties to prove it. You want to see them, don’t ya, Hwa?” Mingi elbowed Seonghwa, who just shook his head in disappointment, while he continued smiling truimphantly to himself.

࿏࿏࿏

Your group took on a range of opponents, from skeleton armies to disingenuous slime cubes that you may or may not have fallen into, able to pass through quite a few levels of the dungeon, mostly due to Seonghwa’s spell casting abilities, San’s uncontrollable rage, Yunho’s knack of destroying anything he came in contact with, and Mingi’s axe-wielding skills. Did you want to admit that to yourself? Sure. Out loud? No, of fucking course not.

You picked off bits of pink slime that still clung to your wet form, grumbling under your breath about how sticky you felt, not even noticing that some of the slime had already absorbed into your skin.

“Need a little help there, princess?” Mingi mused, reaching down to your shoulder and wiping off some of the slime for you, his fingers tingling once he had done so.

“I suppose so,” you murmured, standing still so that he could continue helping you, surprisingly not even that bothered when the other members of your newfound party all gathered around you and picked or pulled off the remnants of slime that remained on your body, face, and hair.

As you entered the next room, all five of you noticed how the tinglyness remained, how it spread throughout your bodies like a gentle ripple effect, your bodies now collectively hot to the touch, though no one said anything to each other — at least, not yet, anyway.

“A chest!” you gasped excitedly, putting your dagger back into its respective holder and running up to the large, gold-plated chest that sat at the edge of the room, just waiting for someone to open it up and collect its contents.

“Don’t be stupid, elven brat. Not all chests are filled with treasure. Some of them could be decoys. You know that, right?” San rested the rounded bottom of his ginormous club down onto the dungeon floor, leaning on it, raising an eyebrow at you. “Or do you only familiarize yourself with crystals and orc cock?”

“Shut up!” You held onto the barbarian’s insult, rather than hearing him out. “You’re just saying that because you want the treasure for yourself!” You got on your knees in front of the chest, muttering, “Selfish prick.”

“What’d you say?!” San barked, his hand squeezing around the thick handle of his weapon.

Mingi slung an arm around San’s tense shoulders, smiling as though he was quite pleased with himself. “She’s got a mouth on her, huh?” He met San’s grimace with a shoulder squeeze. “Don’t worry, Sannie. She’s gonna learn the hard way.”

Yunho walked up beside Seonghwa, lowering himself down to sit on the cool stone ground with a thud, wiping a bit of perspiration that had formed on his forehead. “I’ve been feeling weird since we left the slime room, Hwa. Can you cast a healing spell?”

“Yeah, me too, now that you mention it,” Mingi called out, rubbing his sweat-covered neck with his free hand, encouraging San to open his own black furry coat, revealing an expanse of sweaty, tan, tattooed skin underneath it.

Seonghwa nodded his head in agreement, waving his hand around in front of him, manifesting a large glowing violet pentagram into existence, which eventually disappeared after the spell had be casted completely, a faint glow still visible around the edges of your bodies.

“Mm, I don’t really feel any different…” Mingi mumbled, his hot-blooded body even more tingly than before, starting to feel like he could fuck someone into oblivion right at that moment, even more than usual.

Once you had opened up the chest, ignoring the subsequent pounding inside your chest and cunt, you were met by a multitude of shiny, gold coins just waiting for you to take. “Holy shit, I’m rich!”

“You better split that with us, before I split you in half with my cock, stupid elf!” San griped from where he stood, now a bit hunched over, his words slightly slurred, not even fully realizing what he was saying.

“Wh-what?!” you squeaked, your ears bright red, turning your head to look at the barbarian in disbelief, not even noticing when the chest in front of you began to sprout limbs, a long, slimy tongue slipping out past the gold.

“I said, I’ll split you open–” San fully dropped his club, which resulted in a resounding thud inside the small room. He pointed an accusatory finger in your direction, blinking at you through his hazy vision, using his other hand to grab at himself through his furry kilt. “–with my big, barbarian cock!”

Yunho pointed at you as well, wanting you to notice the big monster that was about to have its way with you. “Um, Y/N, you should…”

“Not now, Yunho, I have to tell this idiot barbarian to suck my clit!” you informed angrily, holding your middle finger up at San, which he returned enthusiastically.

“Oh, yeah? Then, get your fucking ass over here and sit on my face, you elf slut,” San barked back, sticking his tongue out at you, still holding onto Mingi, appearing drunker by the second — though it wasn’t alcohol running rampant through his body. It was lust. The rest of them were feeling it too.

“Slut? I’ll show you slut,” you grumbled, about to stand up and give San a piece of your mind, your fist, and possibly your body when the mimic suddenly snatched you up with its long limbs and pinned you to the floor. “Oh my god, what’s happening? What the fuck is that?!”

San simply chuckled, leaning his back against the cold concrete wall of the small room, trying to cool his intensely heated body down. “That’s a mimic, dummy. I’m sure you can handle it though, since you’re so tough.”

Mingi looked to his friends, biting at his lip, noticing that none of them even attempted to assist you, more concerned with finding out what the monster was about to do to you. Even Yunho, who was the only one with any semblance of a conscience out of the entire party, somehow couldn’t bring himself to get up, instead answering to the oversized tent that was forming underneath his pelt.

The mimic pinned your wrists together above your head with one strong hand, using the other to lift one of your legs up into the air, breathing harshly as it studied your slick cunt through your tiny lace panties, eventually licking a long stripe up your body, from your pussy up to your chest, leaving your white garments completely soaked and see-through.

Trying desperately to free your hands from the monster’s unwavering grip, unable to prevent more slick from leaking out of you with your legs being held open, you angled your head back to look at the upside-down versions of your party, crying out, “Are you fuckers just going to sit there and watch?!”

“Yeah…we are, sweetheart,” Mingi sighed out, still leaning on San, a few drops of sweat cascading down his flushed face. He dragged his tongue across his teeth, breathing in the flowery scent of your arousal, inhaling so deeply his bull ring shifted slightly. “I’m sure you got it handled. Just tire it out with that wet fucking cunt of yours, will ya?”

A strong wave of pleasure pulsed through your body at Mingi’s response, looking to each of the members, realizing that they were really just going to observe as you got pleasured by the monster, getting more aroused by the second. What was wrong with you? You would’ve contemplated it more, but any thoughts you had would completely fizzle out once the mimic’s tongue came in contact with your cunt, licking you up and down in a rapid, desperate fashion. Its tongue was so heavy and hot against your pulsing cunt, you couldn’t help but cum within a few minutes, your body going limp. “Fuuuck, oh my god…”

“Came nice and hard, didn’t you?” Mingi continued to share his filthy words with you and his party, all five of you reacting positively to it. “I can fucking smell it, princess…” His smile twisted into a faux pout, his voice dripping with lust. “That tongue isn’t enough for you though, is it? Mm-mm, not nearly enough. You need cock stuffed inside your tight elven pussy, don’t you, darlin’?”

All you could do was let out a long pathetic whine, your flushed, fucked-our face giving Mingi and the boys the answer they needed. Now that you weren’t fighting back, the mimic lifted your lower half up into the air, positioning you so that its tongue could slither inside you, pistoning it in and out of your willing hole, your upper half hanging upside down, your tits bouncing with each of the mimic’s thrusts of its wet appendage, your writhing body on display for your party members’ viewing pleasure. “I’m…going to…kill you all…for watching…” you huffed out in between moans, drool slipping out past your parted lips.

Mingi turned his head to share looks with his friends, all of them now dealing with the same almost painful predicament. “Are you all as hard as I am…?” When they nodded, he felt a little less guilty, reaching down to rub at his leaking cock through his kilt, able to feel how stiff it was even through the thick material. He gazed down at you, biting at his bottom lip, holding onto the thick leather of his body harness, trying not to blow his load too quickly. “It feels good, doesn’t it, princess? I can hear how just how sloppy that mess of a cunt is…Do you like the way it’s fucking you senseless with its tongue? Is it filling you up just right?”

You couldn’t believe just how turned on you were in the moment, hardly about to breathe in between your bouts of pleasure, your body beginning to sieze up when the mimic shoved its tongue as deep as it could go, causing a prominent bulge to form inside your lower stomach. “S-so good, Min, gonna cum again…”

“Cum for us, baby, that’s it…” Mingi sighed, leaning his shoulder against San’s, noticing how he began to play with his cock through his kilt, doing his friend a solid and reaching over to stroke the base of it for him.

Groaning underneath his breath, San reached over to help Mingi out as well, the both of them hyperfixated on the way the mimic drank up your juices as though it needed it to live. Seonghwa and Yunho were in a similar position, but instead of answering to their aching cocks, they simply watched on, the visual stimulation clearly enough for them.

The mimic lifted your limp body upwards so that you were on your knees, with its large, agile tongue fitted in between your trembling thighs, grabbing you by the waist so that it could drag you back and forth along its long, slimy appendage. “Just like that, oh my god, it’s so–fuck–” you gasped, barely able to look at the men that were huddled around you, the new position not allowing you to hide away from their hungry gazes, your body on full display for them.

With his hand now fully hidden underneath San’s kilt, Mingi nodded his head at you in approval. “That’s my naughty little elf girl,” he praised you in a gravelly voice, groaning at the sensation of San tugging at his dripping cock from underneath his own pelt. “Let me see you cum one more time for us, princess. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Mingiii, I’ll cum for you,” you whined obediently, reaching down your shiny, wet body to rub your clit around through your thin, soaked panties, unable to keep your mouth closed anymore from how hard you were breathing.

“What a good listener you are, baby. Look at you playing with your tiny little clit without me having to ask. Such a good elf girl you are,” Mingi continued to praise you, knowing exactly what made you tick, his hand squeezing around San’s throbbing length.

San let out a higher pitched moan, his body beginning to tremble against Mingi’s. “I can’t believe you–unnh–managed to tame her so easily…”

“It wasn’t hard, Sannie…fuck– She may be a brat, but she’s a good girl at heart…” Mingi was beginning to fall apart as well, San’s calloused hand continually rubbing along his cock enhancing the pleasure of watching you willingly playing with yourself while you rode a monster’s tongue, his party’s presence filling him with even more warmth. “Cum for us, sweetheart, show us how pretty you are when you fall apart…”

Mingi’s praise-filled request mixed with the sensation of your puffy clit grinding along the mimic’s slick tongue sent you barreling over the edge, cumming so hard, you saw stars, barely able to grasp at the dagger that still sat inside its holster.

Meanwhile, San and Mingi both began to groan and shudder against the cool dungeon wall, shooting their hot loads onto each other’s hands and the insides of their pelts. Seonghwa and Yunho both coated their own undergarments with white, biting into their bottom lips so hard they just about broke the skin.

They were all so deep in their wells of ecstasy that they hardly even noticed when you let out a war cry and stabbed the mimic with your long dagger, rendering it dead, causing it to fade away in a flurry of sparkly, white dust, leaving a few gold pieces for you to take.

“I told you I could fucking take care of myself,” you grimaced, shoving your items into a small pouch you had hanging from your upper thigh.

Once the post-nut clarity set in, Mingi cleared his dry throat, scratching at his prickly chin. “I mean, you did defeat the mimic on your own, so credit is due when credit is due, princess. You just used your pussy to combat it…which is just as valid as using a real weapon, don’t get me wrong–”

“Shut it!” you simply yelled, your face so hot, it probably rivaled the surface of the sun, stomping past the recovering men and pushing the next door open once it unlocked itself, wasting no time to enter the last floor of the dungeon where the supposed lujuria plant was said to grow.

“Let’s go help her out with that plant. And remember, whatever happens, happens. Just know I’m not fucking any of you.” Mingi patted San’s shoulder, looking over to the other members of his party with a playful smile.

San smacked Mingi’s back playfully, which Mingi returned. “Let’s put that elf brat in her place.”

Mingi nodded. “Yeah, on my cock where she belongs.”

Seonghwa scoffed from beside them. “Could you be anymore crass?”

Yunho patted Mingi’s and Seonghwa’s shoulders, practically dislocating them, smiling goofily, his cheeks and face flush from the energy he exerted. “What happens in the dungeon, stays in the dungeon, boys.”

Seonghwa quietly nodded his head in agreement, until he murmured softly, “Indeed.”

࿏࿏࿏

“Where are you, you stupid fucking plant?” you called out inside the vast, foliage-covered room, swiping at the overgrown leaves and plants that were in your way, almost tripping over a few vines that grew in and out of the broken-up cobblestone floor below your feet.

The rest of your party followed your lead, Mingi and Yunho taking the initiative to cut down the thicker plants and foliage that stood in your way with their axes, almost completely out of breath when you finally came across a large pink plant growing in the middle of the room.

“I’m assuming that’s it,” you said mostly to yourself, slowly walking up to the plant, impressed by its intricate petals and inviting flowery scent. “It’s not as scary as I thought it’d be. It’s almost…pretty…”

Just as you reached out to touch it, Seonghwa opened his mouth to warn, “Wait, don’t–”

As soon as your slender fingers came in contact with one of the flower petals, the plant sent out a puff of dusty pink pollen directly into your face and the air around your party, before folding in on itself and growing comically large spikes to protect its core which contained the golden glowing seeds you needed to complete your quest.

You began choking and coughing along with the others, reaching out blindly through the thick pollen, finding solace in Seonghwa’s arms, who began reciting a spell to lessen the effects of the plant’s attempt at self defense, but it was too late. Mind-altering desire had already set in. “Can’t breathe…can’t think…” you whispered, grabbing at Seonghwa’s chest, unbuckling his top and revealing his smooth, marble skin, henna-like tattoos decorating his jewelry-adorned collar bone.

Seonghwa clutched your shoulders, breathing just as profusely as you were, murmuring, “Don’t think, then, silly elf,” before pressing his mouth onto yours with haste, his long, snake-like tongue slipping inside your mouth to explore it.

Strong, solid hands grabbed at your hips from behind, Mingi pulling them back so that he could grind his cock into your ass, his lips already ghosting along your neck. His deep, gravelly voice made you let out a weak moan into Seonghwa’s mouth when he sighed, “Gonna fill your cunt full of my cum, sweetheart. So fucking full.”

“Then, I get to fill her slutty elf cunt with my tongue first,” San interrupted, already on his knees, positioning himself in between you and Seonghwa, not hesitating to tear your skirt and panties apart to access your rapidly dripping cunt. “So pink, so pretty…” He attached his drooling mouth onto your clit, sucking so roughly, your knees almost buckled underneath you, about to completely collapse when he plugged your hole up with his hot tongue.

Seonghwa pulled away slightly, finally letting you breathe without having his tongue down your throat, instead completely shredding the front of your dress with his talons, just in time for Mingi to groan and cup your tits, squeezing and moving them around, saliva leaking past his plump lips. “I always know exactly what your idiotic orc brain is thinking,” he sighed at Mingi, bringing his own hands up to tweak and pinch at your nipples, making you cry out.

“Oh, yeah? Can you read my mind right now, Hwa? Can you tell that I’m about to stretch this elf’s little fuckhole wide open with my fat fuckin’ cock?” he said near your twitching, elongated ear, his hard length slipping in between your thighs to rub along the underside of your cunt, his dark eyes settled on Seonghwa’s before returning to your slick body, their hands moving in tandem to play with your tits, each getting a chance to squeeze your squishy flesh and tease your increasingly puffy nipples.

Yunho, who was hard beyond measure and feeling a little left out, walked up to the side of you and reached down to show off his enormous cock, the slick , oversized tip an angry shade of red. He pouted down at you, letting out a small whimper. “Can you please help me out, sweet? I’m so hard, it hurts…”

Unable to resist his puppy-dog eyes, you nodded, licking your lips, collecting his vast amounts of pre-cum at the rounded tip with your fingers, eventually using it to slick up the rest of his cock, doing your best to jerk him off with your small hands. “Does that feel good, Yunho?”

“So good, doll,” he gasped, leaning his head back, not registering when he began to thrust his hips forward into your hands, using them like a fleshlight.

You’re so big, Yunho, fuck– I can hardly wrap my hands around it…” you sighed out, opening your mouth to lick at the tip of his cock each time he thrusted into your hands. Your mind went blank, until you suddenly remembered that San was in between your squeezing thighs, devouring your cunt like it was his last meal, his tongue and lips wreaking havoc on your clit, his thick fingers shoved inside your pulsing hole.

“Like the way I’m eating this cunt of yours, eh, elf girl?” San mumbled in between slurps, gulping your juices down, a few dribbles of it cascading down his veined throat. “You don’t even need to answer, love. I can tell you do just from the way you’re fuckin’ squeezin’ my fingers.” San groaned deeply, watching the way you dripped for him as he continually went knuckles-deep inside you, biting his bottom lip, growling, “Cum for me. Cum all over my face, you brat. Fuckin’ do it.”

You unraveled almost instantaneously, getting your creaminess sucked off of your slit by the desperate barbarian, not even noticing that he had been jerking himself off so roughly, he had already made himself cum before you did.

“Goddamn it, since when did high elf squirt taste so fuckin’ good?” San mumbled drunkenly to himself, licking at his swollen lips, prior to sucking your cum from his fingers noisily.

“You’ve had your fun, Sannie boy. It’s time for this little elf girl to experience the pleasure of getting broken in by real men. Hwa, you know what to do,” Mingi announced hastily, already bringing you down to the floor so that you were about to slowly take the half-orc’s cock in your cunt from behind, Seonghwa supporting your front, the tip of his tail already brushing back and forth over your swollen clit, rubbing his large, ridged cockhead on your puffy lips to slick them up with his pre-cum, his own plump lips moving at a quick pace, expertly reciting an incantation that would allow you to physically take two obscenely large cocks at once, all well as increasing your natural lubricant and allowing you access to heightened physical sensations.

“Fuck, look at you…What a good little elf girl you are, taking us both inside you like this,” Mingi sighed into your ear, reaching around your body to lazily rub your wetness into your sensitive clit. “Almost like you were made to take monster cock, huh? Not made for little elven peckers, it seems.” He pressed his hand into your lower abdomen, able to feel the pronounced outline of his friend’s abnormally large length. “Mm, that’s right. You loved being stuffed full of monster cock, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Love it, Min, so much,” you choked out, your mind going positively blank, the only thing on your mind being the insanely pleasurable stretch you felt inside your core, knowing you were quite literally filled to the brim. “Feels so good, I can’t think.”

“Why think when you can just feel good, princess?” he chuckled, rubbing your tummy in an up and down motion, feeling the outline of Seonghwa’s thick, ridged length with his calloused fingers, shuddering from the sensation of their slippery cocks rubbing along one another inside your tight, slick walls . He nuzzled your neck and the side of your face with his prickly cheek, whispering onto your skin, “M’ so proud of you, sweetheart. I broke you in before and now here you are, taking big tielfing cock in your pussy while an orc’s stuffing you just as full. What a pretty sight you are. Wish I could take a picture.”

“Oh my god, Mingi, please, it’s so–” you could hardly verbalize, your eyes just about rolling into your skull, your body pulsing with so much pleasure, you could barely keep up with what was happening around you.

Mingi routinely filled your elongated ears with more filthy words, Seonghwa gazing deeply at you, your willing hole continuing to clench around their thrusting cocks, getting stretched so pleasurably, you almost passed out from that sensation alone.

All the while, San positioned himself in from of your tits, squeezing them together and driving his cock back and forth between them, grunting and groaning each time.

Yunho gently grabbed your chin, coaxing your mouth open as wide as it would go, whispering, “That’s it, my sweet, just a little wider…” He began to feed you his cock, stuffing your mouth full and instinctively fucking your throat, your jaw already beginning to ache from the obscene girth. “You’re so tiny…can barely take it…huh?” Moaning breathily, Yunho eventually settled for fucking the inside of your gummy cheek, afraid that he would suffocate you if he continued to throat fuck you.

It seemed that this quartet had been in this exact position before. That was clear to you now. You couldn't have been more wet and willing if you tried. Getting used by two filthy men while two more watched and desperately tried to get off using your body in any way they could filled you with a sense of purpose you didn’t realize you had always sought after.

“You want our cum in your pretty elf cunt, princess?” Mingi huffed, in between harsh, deliberate thrusts, his hands cemented on the reappearing bulge in your stomach. “Huh? You want us to make a mess of you, aye? Want to be fucked so full of our seed, you’ll give us pretty elven offspring?”

Once Yunho freed your saliva-streaked mouth from his suffocating length and resorted to jerking himself off, you were able to reply in a fucked-out, slurred voice, “Yeah–yeah–yeah– fill me up, wan’ it all. All your cum, in me, on me, I need it, pleaseee.”

Your willing party members’ highs all crescendoed in succession, Mingi resorting to sloppy, rough thrusts inside your tight hole until he spilled most of his load into you, his cum splashing onto Seonghwa’s cock, dripping along their lengths to form a milky rim. “Oh, fuck, that’s it…but I’m not done yet, princess…I gotta–nngh–leave my mark on my favorite elf…” He slowly pulled out with lewd pop, coaxing a few more cum shots out of his cock with a large, closed fist, watching the large milky droplets slide along your smooth skin and torn sections of your dress onto the curve of your exposed ass, his eyes creasing with clear adoration. “That’s more like it…”

“W-was that necessary…?” you murmured, trying not to cum just from the sensation of getting stuffed full of cum, sensing that Seonghwa was next in line to come undone inside you.

“Oh, my gods, I…see heaven,” Seonghwa gasped sharply, the whites of his boundless eyes glowing brightly, his lips parting to allow a shaky moan to escape. Seonghwa gripped your hips so tightly, he was bound to leave handprints, relying on slow, deliberate strokes, using your contracting cunt to milk the cum from his cock, unable to resist leaving a few drops on your clit and mound when he pulled out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, gonna cum all over these tits, you little elven slut, take itttt,” San gritted his teeth, his jaw tightening, only having to pump himself between your slick, pre-cum covered tits once more before he was able to leave thick spurts of white all over the bottom of your heated face and lips, leaving most of his load on your messy tits.

“O-oh, godddd…!” Yunho came last, and the most, closing his hands around his reddened tip, whining profusely, unable to keep himself from completely unloading all over your pretty face and hair, practically drenching you in his cum.

Mingi reached down to cup your chin, tilting your head back so that he could get a good look at you, admiring the way their collective seed dripped off and out of you, swearing he could shed a tear from such a beautiful sight. “Look at you. My pretty princess.”

You gently nuzzled his large hand, smiling contentedly, tasting the salt of someone’s load on your lips when you licked at them. “Your pretty princess…”

It took a while for all of you to come down and catch your breath, the effects of the pollen still practically running through your veins, but you managed to wobble your way over to the main plant and slowly pull your trusty dagger out of its holder, slashing the plant until its precious seeds dropped into your open palm. You looked down at the golden, glowing seeds, your fingers still splattered with milky liquid, reminding you of the trials you conquered to get to your ultimate goal. As you wiped your sticky face with your sleeve, you looked around at your panting, much more docile party members, wondering if it was all worth it.

Mingi brushed some of his sweaty hair out of his eyes, noticing the way you were looking up at him, sending a cocky smile your way. “So, you’re 200 gold pieces richer, princess. How does it feel?”

“Huh?” you questioned immediately, your fingers closing around the pouch that contained the precious lujuria seeds. “It was 1000 gold pieces. Did fucking me stupid render you stupid instead?”

“I’m sorry, darlin’, but with each party member fee, it rounds out at 200 a person,” he corrected you, bringing you in to give you a gentle hug and a pat on the ass, chuckling delightedly to himself, his friends joining in on the amusement. “That’s still quite a bit. You can buy yourself a pretty new dress since yours is all torn and drenched in our cum, ya’ know?” He leaned his head in your direction, twiddling his large thumbs, his smile growing more lewd. "That means I can have the one you're wearing right now, yeah?"

You grimaced, your blood boiling over, already stomping your way out of the last dungeon floor, your voice still growing louder and louder the further you walked away, swearing to yourself, “This is the last time I do anything with you, Mingi! Never again. Never! EVER!”

Mingi simply waved off at his friend’s questioning gazes, holding the seeds that you had taken from the plant inside his own hand, admiring their shimmering edges. “Don’t worry. She always comes back.”

fff taglist: @itza-meee @chnt1 @k-hotchoisan @wonyobie @vampiregirl215 @yuyusbunny @christmastodoroki @luvt0kki @pieyoon @goldnhwa @choisanboobenthusiast @icyb3rry @maximofftrash @choism @yunhosmelonbar @nebulousbookshelf @astayinwonderland @slutologyy @10nantscompanion @ddaeing @pandagirl-016 @Randomgirl11-posts @staytiny816 @horanghae8 @smally97 @ateezzzser @crispybaguettes @bubblegumbird @midnightmaja @i2nsstuff @asimpelslut @svt-dinosaurus @wisejudgedragonhairdo @deathbyyeekies @firefox79 @wildesreblogs @everyonewooeverywhere @raspberrysannie @Whatintheninerealms @hyunjinsbby (if i couldn’t tag you pls check your privacy settings <3)

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mactavishsgfandwife · 3 months

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Precious - A Simon Riley HC

just silly fluff - two little hcs - i haven’t reread this

photo credits entirely to @ave661

oh heartless simon riley? oh, "shut up, bitch" simon riley?

what about tired, cuddly simon riley? what about overly touchy simon riley? what about simon riley who would definitely be one of those guys who acts tough, but the second he gets home to you nothing could pull him away from his favourite girl?

on the bus home from work, his mask would be pulled down, the white skull-face mask stretching over his strong nose, and his blue eyes encircled by dark paint. headphones in, head down, unintentionally scaring the shit out of anyone who walks past.

you’d be a little intimidated to sit by him, with his shady mask and all-black, practical clothing that covers those broad shoulders and his tall stature. he’s a weapon of a man.

but when he was standing outside of your front door, and looking down to see your loving face staring right back up at him, not even that mask could hide his smile. his headphones were no longer in his ear and instead dangled a little out of his pockets. he needed to hear you, to give you all of his attention.

as soon as the door clicks shut behind him, he drops his bag, arms instantly reaching out to hold you, as if the action was built into him. as if you were second nature to him.

"hey, darling…" he grins, as you gently pull his mask up, amused to watch you try to sort out his messy hair. that short, light hair that’s been scruffed up under his mask all day.

"missed ya."

naturally, the same little grin stays on his face as he leans down to your level, aligning your lips to his with a gentleness that no one could else could ever have suspected and kisses you. strong arms hold you, pulling you in, so that his muscular back is practically shielding you. and yet, every movement is so gentle, treating you like the most precious thing in the world.

"d’ya miss me too, love?" he whispers, his breath close to your cheeks as he’s barely able to part his lips from you.

i feel like, in the mornings, simon would not be helping you get up and start your day. in fact, he’d actively work against you, begging you to stay with him for just a ‘few more minutes’ (in other words, at least 2 more hours). or he’d bribe you, with promises of kisses, and your favourite food (which he definitely isn’t that great at cooking), and back rubs, and just about anything he can think of. i mean, this man cannot bear to let you leave him in the mornings.

sometimes, he’ll pull his body weight on top of you, acting like a very heavy weighted blanket. he’d lay his head on your chest, sneakily nuzzling his face into it, with his broad chest pinning you down at the stomach and his hands slowly stroking up and down your sides and your arms.

"simon…" you’d groan, "please, i have work…"

"zzz…" he’d make very exaggerated snoring noises, pretending to be asleep, with one eye fluttering open and closed to peek up at you. he’s not a very believable actor.

"alright, big guy, get off…"

"can’t, m’sleeping on you," he’d whisper, a little smirk forming on his face. oh, he thinks he’s so funny.

thanks for the support lovelies :)

#i’m down bad #i need him badly #simon ghost Riley #simon riley #ghost #simon Riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #fluff #headcanon #soft!ghost #cod #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod x reader

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pride-of-storm · 2 years

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what employers need to know: what you can do for them when

what employers don't need to know: the details of why

#legally they don't need to know Any of the why #but practically using broad strokes maintains privacy without alienating supervisors #storm's posts #this isn't personal so far but this is v3.5 of maddie's intoxicated tag rambles so let's get it out of the way:#personal #you can ignore this #*legally in the usa #gotta qualify that bc everywhere is different and also the us is a specific flavor of weird #broad strokes!! an appointment! a family event! a personal emergency!#frankly i believe details should only be shared to guilt supervisors into complying with basic decency #ie don't start with it but if they refuse what you think is a reasonable request Then give them another layer of detail #but not the final layer of detail! 'personal emergency' to 'my mother is in the hospital' to 'my mother's heart surgery had complications'#if the details aren't relevant to their operations then digging for the details should make them feel guilty #...i think the utilitarian perspective on this would be roughly 'save your strongest weapons until they're needed'#look family and friends and coworkers all need specific degrees of truth #and employers need the Least specifics. the details aren't relevant!#you aren't available or you won't be as effective or you might not be as effective #those are what employers need and deserve to know. and that's It #also if they ask why you didn't say earlier: you didn't want to overshare or you didn't want to burden other people will almost always work #(it's basically another phrasing for 'it's none of your business but if you Insist' but usa business polite)#('how is this relevant?' and 'i didn't think it was relevant' are the two Most Important tool phrases)#(it's not relevant! they're either nosy or controlling and either way they deserve a flick in the nose!!)#(an example of fourth level continuing from above: 'my mother has been in the icu for almost a month sorry if i'm a Little Distracted)#(don't weaponize guilt until someone has been shitty first)#(start with neutral Then escalate)#(from both a moral and practical perspective lmfao)#(there's a lotta overlap if you poke at things enough)#(...or maybe i just poke my morals too much?? but idk they seem all the more solid for it.)#(figuring out what hills you will die for and are Worth dying for is part of maturation imo)#(figure out what you care about on the Big things. should anyone be hungry? homeless? unable to vote?)

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ddejavvu · 3 months

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anakin being so pussy drunk that he cant sleep bc he didn’t fuck you at least once that day but you’ve already gone to sleep. he can’t help himself seeing you all so pretty and peaceful sound asleep that he doesn’t even bother to wake you up just sinks his cock in without a second thought.

does anyone know where to get a wet floor sign cause i gushed

obvious cw for somnophilia, very quick and fleeting mention of anal (no actual activity), don't like don't read.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

His cock is already hard from the moment he steps through the door- perhaps if he hadn't spent the elevator ride thinking about sinking it into your wet, warm cunt, he wouldn't be so inconvenienced.

But it's hard, and aching, and only getting worse, so he sheds his Jedi garb as quickly as humanly possible. A belt here, a tunic there, boots sloppily discarded by the door. By the time he gets to your bedroom he's wearing only an undershirt and briefs, but he disposes of the thin cotton shirt in the doorway.

You're sleeping. Illuminated gorgeously by the two of four moons that are visible from Coruscant's surface. They spill a pale halo of light around your sleeping form that catches on your sleek satin gown, pools deliciously in the space just beneath your thighs where the chub of your ass takes over and- Anakin's even stiffer.

It's a gift from whatever god Anakin unconsciously believes in. Whether it's a local legend from his days on Tatooine, or the will of the Force, some higher power has shed ethereal light on your body, and Anakin feels called to indulge in its divine gift.

You're laid out on your stomach with one knee tucked up to your side, and an arm thrown beneath your ribs to offset the heft of your breasts. You complain about pain when you lie on your stomach for too long- Anakin's surprised that you're sleeping like this. But he is not complaining, not when it offers him a perfect view of the gentle curve of your mound that rests between your thighs, parted to offer your leg enough room to bend the way that it does.

His cock begs for your pussy, tearing and ripping and struggling against the fabric of his briefs, and when he yanks them down his thighs his cock springs so tightly that it hits his stomach, leaving a sticky smear there.

No matter - things will get messier.

Anakin can't spot a wet stain on the pad of your panties, but it's no matter. He can supplement until your body catches up. He retrieves a bottle of lube from your bedside drawer- almost empty, seriously, do you guys fuck that much? -and pools some on his palm, stroking his dick with it so that it smears over his length.

He has to be careful not to work himself up too much with his own hand- no self-achieved orgasm will ever be as good as what he'll experience in your cunt.

His dick is properly slicked now, but he squirts a generous stream of the stuff onto your cunt once he pulls back your panties, unable to resist the urge to spread it through the split of your ass.

That's not the hole he's going for tonight, but he's never been able to keep his hands to himself.

Hands braced on either side of your body- one slick with lube - he leans his weight on the mattress, and draws his wet hand back to his cock. He needs no help after the initial guidance of the first thrust, and once he's gently pushed his cock through your artificially slickened entrance, he huffs out a sigh that blows hot against your back. The slip you're wearing is low-cut enough that the heat hits your bare skin, and he's not sure if it's the penetration or the sudden gust of air that makes you shiver.

You let out a strangled moan- something between surprised and pleasure, and Anakin is relived to feel his cock sliding smoothly through your cunt. You nag him about wasting lube; he's a very generous pour, but if it means you're feeling pleasure and not discomfort, he'll empty the whole bottle.

He dips down to kiss your cheek, his broad shoulders flexed against his muscled back- not that you're awake to enjoy it.

"Shh, s'okay angel," He groans, drawing in a shaky breath as he drags his hips backwards, pushing in once more to the heat of your cunt, "It's- it's okay, I just- agh, I need this. Just- let me have this, angel, let me- let me take it."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker scenario #anakin skywalker oneshot #anakin skywalker one-shot #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker headcanon #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker hcs #anakin skywalker hc #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker blurb #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker dialogue #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker smut

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fuckmyskywalker · 7 months

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"Corporeal." — Anakin Skywalker.

— CW: 18+, smut! Sweat. Handjob, Cunilingus. Spit kink, mild cum play.| Word count: 0.8k

— List of films! | Taglist.

“Anakin— it’s too hot,” You protest, trying to push his broad shoulders away from you. Coruscant’s weather has been a real inferno this past week, the upcoming heatwave only threatening to get worse. Every Holonet news program and article recommends staying in air-conditioned places, drinking lots of water, and avoiding heavy physical activities that could raise the body’s temperature.

He lifts your tank top, groaning under his breath when he meets your bare chest. Your body glistens with a sheer layer of sweat, the scent of your body’s perspiration sends his body into a frenzy, horny rush. Ignoring your complaints, Anakin removes your shirt fully, cupping your breasts in his large hands.

Whining his name, your back rests against the warm wall of his bedroom. You push your chest against his face when he buries it in between the valley of your breasts, inhaling the sweat that coats your skin. He licks at you, groaning at the salty taste— his metallic hand reaches for his crotch, rubbing himself while his tongue darts over your nipple.

“You are so gross.” While running your hands through his tangled hair, Anakin smirks against your nipple, licking it and sucking it with fervor.

He switches sides, making sure both of your nipples are covered in his spit, and moaning when your body feels hotter to the touch— coating you with a new thick layer of sweat. His tongue licks the underside of your tit, where the moist crease calls him the most. His blue eyes roll back, and for a second you can’t believe how fucking disgusting he can be.

“You taste so good,” Anakin praises you in his own sick way, kneeling in front of you and prying your legs open to lower down your shorts. He presses his nose over the fabric of your underwear, inhaling you and practically growling in response.

In summary, your whole body is sweaty and, on any other occasion, you would at least tell him to wait until you shower before engaging in any sexual activity— but Anakin’s plans were different today.

The moment he returned from training flushed and irritated and saw you on his bed— reading a book with the tiniest shorts and tank top, using an old paper fan to aerate your face— something inside him clicked, and before you could register it, he was dragging you off the bed and caging you between the wall and his strong, tan frame.

His tongue collects the beads of sweat running down your thighs, and he frees his cock from the confines of his loose pants and strokes it slowly. Helping him peel off your underwear, you moan in contentment when he finally starts to suck your clit, the undeniable smell of your arousal and the steam between your bodies making his head fuzzy with pleasure.

“I fucking love you—“ Anakin groans, speeding up the flick of his wrist up and down his hard cock. “You smell so fucking good, oh, Maker—“

His tongue slides inside your warm pussy, smirking when you lewdly moan his name and tug on his hair. Anakin enjoys when you are selfish, using him as a toy to alleviate your sexual frustrations— even if he is the cause of most of those frustrations— so he starts to fuck you with his tongue in tandem with the fisting around his dick.

If outside the Temple is hot, you can’t imagine how it is inside the room— it feels like hell itself, but with an angel in between your legs. Anakin continues lapping at your wetness, his face now covered in a nasty combination of your slick, your sweat, and his spit— he wouldn’t want it any other way.

To top it all off, he stands up seconds before coming, jacking off just above your mound— wrapping his free hand around the nape of your neck to kiss you aggressively and hungrily. His cum coats your mound and slides down between your legs, covering you now in four bodily fluids.

If you felt sticky before, now you feel like goddamned slime.

“Don’t worry, doll,” Anakin whispers, his lips hovering over yours. “I’ll clean it up.”

Kneeling again, he spreads your labia with his thumbs, collecting practically everything. You moan at how lewd it sounds, and how delicious it looks. Standing up again, his metallic hand squeezes your cheeks to force your mouth open, spitting right on your outstretched tongue. The air around you is thick— it feels suffocating, yet erotic. It takes your breath away.

“You are so disgusting,” you laugh, wrapping your arms around your neck and kissing him— making sure he gets another taste of himself before he pushes you on top of his bed.

“Yeah?” He chuckles, panting. His teeth nibble the exposed skin of your neck. “I bet I can make it nastier.”

— 🐚 if you wish you be added to my taglist there's a google forms in the beginning of the post! There you can select which days you would like to be tagged in (or choose the option: all the above!). If you send me a DM or an ask I will tag you on every day! | some tags might not work due to your settings, so let me know!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 kinktober 2023!#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker fanfic

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 7 months

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DAY SEVEN: Car Sex w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: For the first time in the last six days this day was not prewritten! That kind of worries me because I've been doing so good being on time but never fear, I'll make it work!

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @murdadixon @zippertwat @hallecarey1 @alixwriter

The way you ended up here was a total accident – at least, that’s what you like to tell yourself, that is.

You weren’t attracted to Dean by any means, no no, don’t get it twisted; yes, you may think he’s handsome. Yes, you sometimes fantasize about what it would be like if you were the one that he was taking home that night, but it was totally normal to think those thoughts about your friends… right?

It was like everything that you had ever known, that you had ever told yourself had melted away into nothing as you found yourself in the backseat of the Impala, nails digging into Dean’s broad, naked shoulders as he bounced you up and down on his thick cock. He buried his face in your neck, heavy pants brushing against the sensitive skin that sent a shiver down your spine, a whimper escaping your throat when his tip brushed your g-spot.

It was kind of hard to remember how you may have ended up in this predicament, especially since Dean was too busy fucking you into next week. Maybe it was the sexual innuendos that were rather consistent these last couple of weeks, or maybe the quick glances and secret shared moments when you’d knock into each other in the middle of the night, eyes devouring one another from the inside out as you’d bid lustful goodnights – even though you noticed the way Dean’s hands were tensed, flexing as he walked away.

You thought that maybe being away from the bunker would help with the fact that you often found yourself falling asleep after rubbing furiously at your needy clit, Dean’s name always on the tip of your tongue but never daring to slip past your lips.

It was obvious that being locked up in a stuffy hotel room was going to be the death of you, even after the hunt was over. All it took was suggesting you, Sam, and Dean take a trip to the local dive bar to end up losing a game you hadn’t even had a chance at winning.

The windows were fogged and the car was sweltering, but that didn’t deter either of you. Months upon months of swelling tension had bubbled to the surface which was portrayed in Dean’s hard thrusts and your harsh bouncing.

“‘You feel so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.” He grunted, moving his head so that his lips brushed the shell of your ear. His stubble burned at your skin.

There was no gentleness in the way he fucked you, just pure depravity fueling your needy gripping. You took advantage of your position to caress and stroke as you pleased, just in case this was a one time thing.

“Can’t believe I finally get to fuck you,” He grunted, lifting you up to then slam you down on his cock. If the car wasn’t rocking before, it definitely was now. “Shit!” You cried out, throwing your head back.

“You know how long I’ve been wanting to feel this sweet pussy? God,” He cursed when you squeezed him. “Fuckin’ years.” He finished with a slap on your ass, sending you jolting in his lap.

‘Years?’ You would have asked, but all of your words died in your throat when you felt his cock jab at your g-spot once again.

“Me too.” Was all you were able to whimper out. “Yeah?” He questioned through a smirk. “Mhm!” You confirmed through curled lips. “‘Would always wish I was those girls that you took home.” A hand descended from your hip up your chest to cup your breast, his finger pinching a nipple. “Ah! And I- and I would always wonder about what you would do to them, how it would feel.”

“Do you know now, sweetheart? Huh?” He cooed.

“Yeah! Yes, yes I do!” You quickly corrected yourself.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 7 #plus size reader #x plus size reader #plus size!reader #x chubby reader #chubby reader #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester kinktober #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x plus size reader #dean winchester smut #smut #fanficition #nsfmeau

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biteofcherry · 4 months

Note

FOR NEW YEAR'S EVA...

Honey and vinegar... how's are that omega and her dark alpha?

Ohh, he's so good at being bad. Because he's not really a bad Alpha. He's dark, manipulative and cunning, but not mistreating his omega. Well, at least he makes her believe so.

Honey Not Vinegar

Strokes of your pencil were harder and twitchy as you peeked at Steve above the edge of your sketching pad.

While the Alpha usually made you feel safe, you still feared picking certain topics with him. Particularly, the topic of your brother or father. But you couldn't help the gnawing need to ask.

Steve, who was sitting on the bed beside you, his broad back leaning against the headboard as he read a book. something so mundane, so... domestic, yet it was still the super soldier with lethal skills. An Alpha most potent and powerful, on top of that.

"What is it, little one?" He asked, eyes not leaving the page he was reading.

"Nothing," you blurted, quickly shifting your gaze back to your drawing.

Steve didn't sigh, but he took a deep breath. He marked the page and set the book aside on the night table. Then he was reaching for you; picking you up and manhandling you to sit on his lap while he caged you in his steel strong arms.

"Omega," his voice was laced with a warning growl, "do not lie to me. However difficult it may be, it's important to be honest with your Alpha."

You clutched your sketchpad to your chest as your eyes locked with Steve's.

"I-" you started, "I wondered if you caught Caleb and if I could visit him, if he's imprisoned."

A muscle in Steve's jaw ticked, but otherwise he remained calm. Which should be comforting, especially since your omega hindbrain half expected an outburst of objection.

He moved one of his hands to cup the side of your face, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip. It was such a tiny gesture, a soothing one, but the way his thumb moved along your lip caused your defenses to yield to a jolt of something more primal. As if Steve was luring your brain to lose its focus on the matter and instead make it think of more carnal urges.

"Now why would I let you see him?" Steve asked softly, sliding his hand down your neck and pressing against your still unmarked mating gland.

"He's my brother-" you couldn't help the hitch in your breath.

"Who hurt you. Who used your loyalty to hide from justice." Steve's hand was a heavy warmth against your pulse, tempting you with safety and comfort that would come if he bonded you. Which he would do, if you remained his good omega.

"I admire your integrity, little one. To still care for family, even when they treated you like a pawn for their own gains."

"It may be considered naive by some," the jab was veiled in tone of awe. "People would see it as typical omega's dumb brain, unable to see the true dangers until their Alpha points it out and makes the right choice for them."

"But I see it as a sign of your nurturing nature."

Steve's other hand slipped beneath the hem of the shirt you were wearing - his shirt, soaked with his scent. Skin to skin contact was making your brain go fuzzy; your arguments defending your family's treatment of you dispersing away.

"It fills me with pride to think how loyal and caring you will be for our family, one day."

"Our family?" You gasped, eyes widening as you stared up at him.

Ever since Steve brought you out of the prison cell and into his suite, he's been establishing the idea of you becoming his omega. You were accepting him as your Alpha. Even becoming agitated that he hasn't claimed you fully yet.

Steve said there's time and place for that. While it sounded respectful and charmingly old fashioned to wait, your instincts told you that he actually meant a particular time.

Your heat, undoubtedly.

But he hasn't mentioned the full picture of it, until now.

"Yes, little one." As Steve smiled at you, with that brilliant, sweet poster boy charm, you melted into his embrace fully.

"I've been imagining it, you know." He pulled you to him, so that your cheek rested on his shoulder and your nose touched the crook of his neck, inhaling his Alpha scent.

His fingers kept caressing up and down your back. With each stroke and each whiff of his smell, your mind turned into a sponge absorbing his words like a sacred truth.

"Imagining you and our kids. How I would love you and care for you. How far I'd go to ensure you're safe at all times. You know that providing safety is crucial for an Alpha."

You didn't pick up on the fact he was speaking of his needs, though reshaping them to sound like concern for your future.

"It guts me to think I couldn't protect you-"

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around Steve's middle and chirped for him soothingly.

"-so to think of you being in the same space with that bastard of a brother of yours? It pains me. You understand that, little one?"

"Yes, Alpha." You rubbed the tip of your nose along his mating gland.

"I knew you would." Steve tipped his head down to kiss your temple. "You're such a sweet, perfect omega."

#Aspen #thank you for playing!#alpha!steve rogers x reader #dark alpha!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x female reader #honey not vinegar #buckets-and-trees #new year's eva's slumber party

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nightcolorz · 6 months

Text

Armand surgical malpractice meta (spoilers for TVA)

It’s, at least from what I’ve seen, a pretty popularly agreed upon conception that Armand’s mutation of Claudia b4 her death as described in TVA didn’t actually happen..partly bcus it’s such a drastic and grotesque retcon from her death in interview with the vampire so lots of ppl don’t want to address it as canon, and partly bcus it’s so bizarre and seemingly unprompted in context that it just seems more plausible that Armand would make this up as some sort of twisted shock value rather then actually do it. I used to buy into this theory and never rlly thought about it beyond that, and today for the first time I thought about it deeply and realized. Damn I rlly disagree! I think that Armand 100% canonically chopped Claudia’s head off and sewed it onto an adult body. I believe it happened as told. And I have many reasons !

First and foremost I don’t think that Armand is actually capable of lying so deliberately in this context. Interpreting most tvc narrators as potentially lying to our faces and intentionally twisting events to suit a narrative and a purpose of dictating our perception of them is, I think, accurate and justified, and smth I love about this fandom. Everyone is not to be trusted 100%, especially Louis and Lestat, who are said and implied many times to have completely fabricated some events in the books for the sake of painting a picture. Tvc serve as this over arching plot about multiple conflicting characters manipulating events of their lives to suit a narrative that we as the audience can pick apart and discover the truth within. Very much “this bitch said WHAT about me?? that dumb cunt is always spreading lies smh, it actually happened LIKE THIS” (they r both not telling the full truth). Armand however is very much an outlier here, and it’s part of what makes TVA so unique as a chronicle. It’s a big part of his character throughout the series, in TVA and leading up to TVA, that Armand’s way of thinking is so dysfunctional and his memory is so flawed (bcus of all his trauma) (and neurodivergence) (imo) that he isn’t able to fully conceptualize the events of his life as chronological and meaningful in the way that one would need to do to be able to write a memoir.

He can’t describe events in broad strokes, or wrap his head around a vast emotional impact in a way that is explanatory or intentional. Think of that conversation he has with Daniel in queen of the damned, where he explains that he isn’t capable of telling Daniel what his life in the past “was like” because that’s a concept incomprehensible to him. He only knows what happened, not what it was like, not how it affected him or how it shaped his personhood, what it means etc. It’s a form of dissociation almost. The vampire armand is the first time in Armand’s vampiric life that he self reflects beyond acknowledging events and his emotions in that moment, it’s the first time he attempts to make connections and understand himself in a way that is narrative and structured and not fragmented bits of history and A names. Part of this requires further dissociation. I definitely get the impression that since Armand is being so vulnerable in a way he is so unused to, yet is so significant, he is unable to register while he’s talking that not only David, but millions of people including every vampire in the world, will know what he says. He’s just laying himself completely bare, he’s talking and talking and only once he finishes realizes oh. Oh. everyone’s going to read this huh. It’s so cathartic he doesn’t consider that in the moment. It’s the first time he’s ever been capable of reckoning with his life in a self reflective way, of looking at it and explaining it and reasoning with it, structuring it in order, not fragments, etc, seeing the cause and the impact and touching on an overall conclusion (tho he never entirely gets there). These baby steps are so difficult for him already, and considering this part of his character I really think it’s a stretch to say that Armand would be capable of the thought process in his book of pure venting to go “maybe I should twist the truth here or change this or add this or lie about this so people will think of me this way or so Lestat can see this, etc” TVA is unreliable, more so bcus of how mentally ill armand is and how little he understands his own life and emotions, but not deliberately like iwtv and tvl. Armand even says that the book was for Benji and Sybelle, but it’s so unfiltered and horrific and vent-like that this sounds ridiculous. He doesn’t even have his stated audience in mind while he’s telling his story, let alone his broader audience. The audience was a complete afterthought, a barely registered consequence. So why would he lie about Claudia? How would he be capable?

it’s another common piece of conversation around this part of TVA where we go, Armand discusses how he never would want to tell this to Louis bcus he knows how badly it would hurt him, so why did he describe it so graphically? Well, cause of all I mentioned. It seems pretty clear to me that armand is almost haunted by the affair with Claudia, and he has no way of lying about this, so his descriptions seemed very much to me like a desperate bit of venting. He has never told anyone how horrific it actually was and it’s always been in his mind, so he just lets it all out. Makes sense, but the broader question is, if Armand wasn’t lying…why did he do that at all?? This I think is so interesting.

To understand this I had to think a lot about Armand’s motivations for killing Claudia at all, which is well, simply, revenge against Lestat and claiming of Louis without barriers. If Claudia dies Lestat will be sad and Louis will be mine and mine alone 👍👍 etc. but Claudia’s mutation was not rooted in either of these motivations, which is part of why it’s so shocking. He didn’t do it to hurt Lestat, lestat never found out. It just seems so odd and unprompted. But once I thought more about why Armand hates Lestat, and why he wants to hurt him by killing Claudia, it started to fit into place. Armand’s hatred for Lestat is rooted very much in his twisted resemblance to Marius that he perceives as being very strong and basically mocking. When he first sees Lestat in tvl he’s repulsed by him instantly bcus he sees him as this parody of Marius, this beautiful blonde man in striking red robes who boldly and carelessly defies the laws of vampires established by the children of Satan as if they are meaningless to him, revels in the indulgent world of humans like he belongs there, shamelessly as armand devotes himself to miserable repression. It strikes a nerve for armand, feels very personally offensive to him, like the embodiment of the traits that got Marius’s destroyed r coming back to mock him in his face. And then as he gets to know Lestat more deeply he only hates him more, bcus Lestat is not only bold and careless, but he’s immature and stupid, and he knows nothing. Armand in his horribly traumatized mind set registers Lestat as “like Marius” and takes this to mean “maybe he can save me, maybe he will teach me and free me from this hell, guide me and give me the purpose I need to be given.” But Lestat does not do this, lmfao. He actually destroys any sense of purpose armand had, rips him from his safety net, and when Armand begs for guidance, asks to be allowed to travel alongside Lestat so he can learn to be a person again, Lestat denies him. The only purpose he bothers to give him is the scraps, symbolic of his perverse indulgence that Armand despises, and fucks off. Lestat is grotesquely reminiscent of Marius, in the worst ways. It’s like his presence alone opens Armand’s eyes to how badly Marius has ruined him. He was the sun, the purpose, the guiding light, and then it was ripped away, and there was nothing else without him. Just a void.

So Armand hates Lestat for this very personal mockery of his own plight, and this hatred spirals into unbridled rage when Lestat returns to him and expects Armand to give Lestat the assistance that he denied him. Not only this, but Lestat found Marius, found marius and was granted guidance and love that Marius refused to give Armand after his indoctrination into the children of Satan. And Marius told Lestat to never ever do what he did, never make an Armand, because Armand was a mistake, he was too young to be a vampire, and now he’s a mistake he will never forgive himself for. And with this immense privilege that Armand spent a huge chunk of his life yearning for, guidance from Marius when he was his most lost, Lestat decides to disregard it. He decides that since Marius said it was bad to turn a child as young as Armand, he’d turn a child even younger then Armand, just cuz. He is once again the embodiment of Marius’s sins, the grotesque parody. Marius turned a teenager, Lestat turns a five year old. It’s almost cruel in how mocking it is, almost intentional in how personal. So Claudia is this child, this deliberate mistake made by someone who knew her turning would be harmful to her but was selfish enough not to care, then went on to regret it when he has to reckon with the consequences. Seem familiar? Armand sure thought so. So I imagine that being alone with Claudia, looking this deeply sad reflection of his own agony in the eyes, knowing she is about to die for justice against a warped parody of his Maker, for the sake of punishment for her own existence, I imagine this struck a cord of insanity in Armand’s fucked up mind, caused him to loose his absolute shit for just long enough to go what if I can fix her, what if I can turn this narrative around, give her the remarkable ending I know deep down that she, I , will never be granted. What if I can give her a body that will reflect her mind? What if I can make this abomination into a miracle? No wonder he pulled out the surgical tools 😭 No wonder he was so horrified by his own actions when he came to his senses, no wonder he refused to share this, kept it to himself for so long, until he finally broke and confessed it all in a desperate moment when he was too caught up in the dam breaking to realize he’d be exposing this horrific action to the world.

Armand sees Claudia as a repulsive mistake that should’ve never existed made by Lestat to deliberately mock him up until the surgery, when then for only a moment lost to time ended in blood she is another child who had her life taken from her too soon by an egotistical blonde man who thought he could play god with someone’s life. “They were done for anyway, he was going to starve to death in a brothel, she was going to die as a street orphan, the blood would be a service to them, a chance they never had” But they both know that’s a lie they tell themselves to justify the act of taking a child and molding it into what they please for fun, for pleasure, for companionship, just to see what would happen. Armand sees this for a moment and wants to give her a chance, give them both a chance, wants to see her as an adult, as someone who could have a life. And then of course, we know how that turns out 😭

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romana-after-dark · 1 month

Text

Rooms on Fire: Crystalline

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Madonna is blissfully unaware of the world around her.

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

WARNINGS HAVE BEEN UPDATED!!!

Extra warnings for chapter: Pregnancy, uuuhhhhhhhh mostly fluff and angst but not bad angst. kinda break up? pushing an shoving and shit. implied violence.

2.8k words

"Do you always trust your first initial feeling? Special knowledge holds true, bears believing I turned around and the water was closing all around like a glove Like the love that had finally, finally found me Then I knew in the crystalline knowledge of you"~Crystalline, Fleetwood Mac

“Ow.”

Frankie whimpers as Will tends to his wounds, shirtless in Will’s med room. William found him in here, trying to disinfect his arm from the bites.

“It’s alright, I’m almost done.” He wrapped Francisco up in gauze, gentle hands on the shaking man.

“Please don’t tell Ben…”

Will sighs, finishing up his job. “He doesn’t talk to me anyway. But Frank, listen.” He looked at Francisco earnestly. “Santi’s catching on. You’ve gotta be more careful.”

Francisco shook his head. “There’s no being careful. There’s no nothing. I’m not… we’re not…” He sighs. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s gonna get Ben killed.”

Although looking sympathetic, there was a soft smile on Will’s face. “That’s why I’ve always liked you, Frank. Someone’s gotta look out for him.”

“You still do, he just doesn’t know it.”

“C’mere.” Will beckoned, bringing Frankie close with his large hand entangling in his brown locks. Will hugged him, then pulled away just enough for a kiss. “You’re a good man, Francisco.”

He kissed back, but refused to compliment. “No… I’m not, I can’t stand up to Santi, I can’t have Ben the way I want I can’t protect Madonna-”

A deep kiss interrupted Frankie, Will’s broad, firm body pressing him up against the counter. “You’re protecting them both, you’re doing the right thing.” Will cupped Frankies face, towering over him. Francisco couldn’t help falling into him, submitting to his strength, his power, his dominance. Will brought his hand down, cupping Frankie’s length through his sweats and stroking him to full hardness. “You’re taking care of them, and I’m going to take care of you.”

Francisco whimpered, relaxing against the counter as he closed his eyes, sinking into Will’s presence.

“T-Thank you…”

“You’re improving a lot.” Santiago compliments you. He sat in his usual spot, watching you paint your latest project. You’d seen it a few nights ago, Francisco in a flower crown, smiling with his eyes closed with Pope behind him, kissing his neck. Pope was very pleased with this most recent project, coming to watch you every day. He must really be proud of you.

Sipping his wine, he smiled at you from over his glass. This was your special time together, and you always looked forward to it. You were starting to show just a little, and you frequently caught him staring at your stomach.

“Thank you, Pope.” You giggle, adding color to the flowers in Francisco’s hair. Blue, yellow, red, white.

Pope didn’t touch you sexually, he hadn’t since you learned you were pregnant. There was no need, he said, but he still kissed you, still held you, his hands caressing your stomach. You’d made him proud, and that’s what mattered. That’s all you’d wanted to do since you were a child.

“Are you going to talk to me?” Will asked his brother, but Ben didn’t turn around. He was doing target practice with his arrows. There was a limited amount of guns and Ben liked to know he could make long distance shots to protect the house if needed.

“Ben, come on. I thought we moved past this when I saved your fucking life.”

He turned around, lowering his bow. “You were protecting Madonna, not me.”

Will rolled his eyes. “She’s not here, we don’t gotta pretend.”

“I’m not? What are you talking about?”

Benny looked genuinely… confused. “You don’t remember what happened at the announcement?”

Ben scoffed, when back to shooting. “Of course I fucking do. See, this is the problem with you! You always doubt me!”

“Ben, someone tried to shoot you, one of your psycho little girlfriends because you can’t keep it in your pants even thought you’ve got 2 dicks and a pussy you’re fucking married too, but that’s not enough-”

Ben swung around again, this time pointing his arrow at Will. “Don’t fucking act like I’m stupid!”

Did Ben actually not know what happened? The lie was his idea… “Okay… okay I’m sorry.”

“Melody tried to kill Madonna because she was jealous! That’s it! Nothing else happened!”

“I didn’t say anything did…”

In a fit, Ben growled and for a moment Will wondered if he was about to get shot again, but instead Ben broke his bow and arrow over his knee. Screaming, he threw it on the ground and stomped until they were just sticks. Ben stormed off.

You lay on top of Francisco in your meadow, kissing on him gently, soft and sweet. His poor lip was healing finallly. Francisco stopped you when you go to unbutton his green shirt. You look down at him curiously.

“Oh, do you not want me? I guess I’m pregnant already, I can-” You move to get off him, embarrassed. Maybe he didn’t like your body as you gained weight? Maybe he just didn’t see a reason to fuck you. Maybe he didn’t like you again…

“Stay, please.” Francisco kissed you deeply, his cock twitching in his pants. “I just… I want my shirt on, please… ”

“Oh, of course…” You pat his tummy, wondering if maybe he shared some of your insecurities. He was certainly the fluffiest of the four, but you absolutely adored the way he looked, his body was perfect to you. “I think you’re… so, so handsome, you know that, right?” you weren’t good at flirting, even this made your face grow warm, but you wanted him to know how much you loved him.

Frankie blushes. “Thank you, but I’d rather keep the shirt on… if that’s okay…”

You kiss his sweet, pouty lower lip with a little peck, considerate of his bite. “Anything for you, my perfect husband.”

You made love in the meadow, trees and flowers and birds and bee’s, all of nature surrounding you, all of heaven and earth shining their approval.

Ben stumbled into Frankie’s room, loudly, making the older man just in his bed. He was asleep on his stomach, and the noise scared the absolute shit out of him

“Frankie!” He raised his hands, shouting.

“JESUS Benjamin, what the hell!” He gets out of bed, wide awake now. He was wearing a shirt, no buttons. “Are you-” Francisco turned on his light and cupped Ben’s face. “You’re drunk again? What the fuck Benjamin!”

Not in the mood for a lecture, Ben stumbled forward and gripped Francisco’s hair, yanking him forward into a bruising kiss. For a moment, Francisco melted into him. He didn’t care that his lip throbbed, or that his shoulder and arm still hurt to move. He didn’t care about what he was supposed to be doing. He just wanted Ben, his handsome, sweet, fun, goddamnhestall husband, Ben. He kissed him back.

But then he felt his cock, free of any constraint hardening, and he remembered. He’d not supposed to be fucking Ben like this anymore.

Frankie gently nudged him back, but Ben didn’t stop, moving to kiss his neck, holding him close.

“Benjamin, we can’t-”

“We can.” Ben sucked a hickey into his skin, spitting into his hand to stroke Francisco. “You and me, Frankie. We belong together.” Although slurring just a bit, Ben’s voice was deep, gravely with need, dark and hungry and oh-so spine tingling.

“But…” frankie protested between kisses, making no real attempted to move away as he licked into Ben’s mouth, tasting the whiskey on his tongue. “Santi… Madonna…”

Ben spat his words. “Fuck ‘em. They don’t matter, only you matte Frankie. Only you.”

He wanted to believe that, he did… he couldn’t. “Is that why you still fuck both of them?”

“I have to, you know that-” Ben sucked on his tongue, fighting the urge to nibble at his lip, make his own mark.

“Do you ‘have to’ fuck every woman in Delta?”

Ben shoved him so hard he stumbled back, it took a second for him to realize what happened.

Francisco blinked, then with a puff of his chest he shoved Ben back, making him fall into a side table. When Ben looked up, his blue eyes were large and wet. Frankie wanted to run to him, apologize, help him up… but he needed this to end. Ben wasn’t going to run away with him, and messing around with Benjamin, even if he was the one he wanted, was going to get Ben killed. Francisco couldn’t stand to let that happen.

“This needs to stop, Ben. I’m not doing this anymore.”

From on the floor, the 6’3 strongman man looked small, weak, vulnerable. Francisco’s heart shattered as he screamed. “GET OUT!” He took hold of his shirt in both fists and shoved him the rest of the way out the door.

Frankie locked out the other half of his heart.

You sigh constantly, sinking further into the water. Will just got done washing your hair, and now he was giving you a soothing milk bath, even putting flower petals in it. Knelt beside you, he had a super soft washcloth and was simply using it to run warm water over your body. He put lavender in the water, commenting that he thought had more left. Not wanting to lie you tell him the truth, that you and Rey found it you used it on Pope. You apologize for going through his things for spilling it. Will said it was totally okay.

The pregnancy had gone pretty smooth, so far no problems but you were having your usual sleep issues. You and Will developed a routine to help you sleep. Ever since he was shot, you’ve been sleeping in his bed. Now, he liked to give you a lavender bath before bedtime. He’d relax you, sometimes finger fuck you if you needed your mind cleared, then once you began nodding off he drained the water, patted you dry and then carried you to his room in a big towel. There, he dressed you in comfortable pj’s and tucked you in with him. It was nice, you felt safe, and best of all, no incubus.

“Such a pretty woman…” Will mutters, putting down the cloth to massage oils into your skin. It felt nice being pampered.

You giggle. “Thank you.”

“Everything going good with the others?” Will always checked in on you, which you appreciated. He helped you navigate things in the house and with Pope especially.

“Going great, thank you. Francisco seemed down there for a little but I think he’s cheered up.”

Will hummed in agreement. “I noticed that too, but you’re right, I think he’s happy now. Frankie had low moods sometimes, but he just needs a little patience and kindness when he does. And you give him that so well, thank you.” He kissed your forehead. “Such a good little wife.”

“And you’re such a good husband.” You tickle his arm, making him smile.

“Anything for my princess.”

Pope was gentle today.

Francisco was on his stomach, face pressed into the pillow trying to avoid tempting Pope with his mouth.

“So fucking pretty…” He slowly thrust inside him, softening cockcovering itself in cum. He looked how Frankie looked with his cum leaking out. “Beautiful…”

Santi laid down beside Francisco, and Frankie was ashamed to say he took comfort in the touch. He wanted to hate Santi, but he couldn’t… he couldn’t hate a man he’d known his whole life, who he’d shared that life with day in, day out. They were never apart.

“I’m so happy with you, Frank…” He kisses Frankie’s head, and Frankie can’t help but smile. He liked Santi’s kisses when he was being nice.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t a lie.

You squeal, dashing around the table to avoid Ben who chased after you with a cup of water in his hand. To be fair, you started the water fight, and now both of you were drenched in water, especially after he took out the kitchen spray in the sink and showered you. Ben laughed, giving chase but he slipped on a puddle, falling on his ass.

“Ben!” You gasp, laughing still as he disappears behind the table, and you run around to check on him. Big mistake.

“BOO!”

“AH!!”

Ben threw his cup of water at you, drenching you all over again. You dump your water on his head and then make a mad dash to get more. You weren’t above getting him while he’s down.

“Oh no you don’t!” Ben scrambles up, scooping you up as you scream and laugh, carrying you to the sink.

“BEEEEN!” You playfully smack at his chest, putting up a pretend fight. “What are you doing!!”

“Winning!” Benny placed you in the empty sink and turning on the faucet over your lap.

He doesn’t see it coming when you grab the sprayer.

Will heard the shouting from Frankie’s room. Jesus, they were not subtle. It wasn’t until he heard the crash he knew they weren’t fucking. Getting up to investigate, he was just in time to see Ben getting his ass thrown out of Frankie’s room. Standing in the hall, he watched Ben, clearly drunk, curl up in a ball on the floor and cry.

Ben didn’t want much to do with Will, not as a brother. Although they worked well together in matters revolving around their family, their community, their woman, Ben didn’t want the closeness and friendship they used to share. Will had hoped after he was shot, Ben would throw his jealousy aside, that he would see that Will loved him and for a moment, he did. When Will was shot, Ben stayed at his side, crying even though the shooter was still at large. He risked his life for him, even with Frankie screaming and pulling at him. Ben helped patch him up, not trusting Iris.

Now Ben was back to Ben, a sad, alcoholic slut.

Will knelt by his sobbing brother’s side, pulling him into his strong arms. Will loved Frankie, but right now Frankie wasn’t his husband. He was the man that broke his baby brother's heart.

“It’s gonna be okay, Benny. It’s gonna be okay.”

You sat on the counter, watching with joy as Reyansh poked at Iris, wrapping his arms around her and swaying. He’d been trying to cheer her up after she’d hovered over him and his black eye. Reyansh said it was standard sparring training for the guards and someone got a good shot in, and Jonah confirmed this, but Iris still fussed over him.

“C’mooooon, smile. Baby.”

“No, I’m grumpy.” But a smile was slipping.

Jonah appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “Sing to her, that’s a guarantee.”

“Oooohohoho no you don’t!” Iris poked at his chest. “That’s cheating!” Iris was a sucker for Rey’s singing.

It was too late. “Love’n you, is it the riiiigh thing to dooooo”

“Reeeeeey”

He turned her around to face him, and she was already smiling. “How can I, ever change things that I feeeeeeeel!”

She giggled as Rey spun her around. “You know this is my favorite! It’s not fair.”

��If I could, baby I’d give you my world!”

Jonah approached you. Things had still been awkward, but the way Jonah protected you at the shooting made you know for sure that he still cared about you. He held out a hand.

Rey took Iris’s hands, doing the twist with her. You liked how Iris’s curls moved around. She was always pretty, but god, when she smiled. You saw why Rey loved her.

“HOW CAN I WHEN YOU WON”T TAKE IT FROM MEEEE!”

You take Jonah’s hand and as soon as you hop down, he swings you around, paying attention to making sure you didn’t hit anything.

Jonah and Rey both sing, very loudly. “YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAAAAYYYYYY!”

Iris echo’d them “GO YOUR OWN WAAAAaaaaaayyy”

Jonah picked you up and spun you around, rey twirled Iris. “YOU CAN CALL IT ANOOOOOOTHER LONELY DAAYAYAYAYY”

“ANOTHER LONELY DAYYAYAYAYAY”

Reyansh took your hand, linking your arms and Jonah scooped up Iris and spun her.

“YOU CAN GO YOUR OWN WAYYYY”

You sang with Iris “GO YOUR OWN WAAYYY”

Rey sang the rest of the song, you all took turns dancing. You didn’t dare try to dance with Iris, but to your surprise, she took you in her arms, pulling you close and dancing with you too. She smelled like wildflowers.

Earlier that day…

Rey was whistling down the hall as usual. Today was a good day. It was bright and sunny out, and Iris had a surprisingly low work load. She even agreed to spend the night in his room, which, outside of the potential benefits, meant he got to hold her all night. What more could he ask for in life?

Oh! And he saw Frankie outside gardening, and maybe they shared a blunt. What about it! Yeah, he was in a great mood.

“Saha? A word?” Will’s voice called behind him. Rey rolled his eyes before turning around. Great, this guy.

Rey out on a fake smile and turned around. “What can I do for you.”

Will was standing with his hands tucked into his pockets, a small smile on his face, but it wasn’t comforting, not like Jonah’s smile.

“Was talking to The Madonna last night, she said you helped her break into my room to get my oils?”

AAHHHHHHHHHH thank you so much for sticking with me!!! I'm so happy to have you!!!!

If you enjoy this, you may enjoy Awakening over at my main @romanarose! I have a commission to do, (IronPope!!) but then im gonna REALLY try and crack down on the last chapter. lots of bisexuality, ironpope,fishben, and the sweetest orgy you've ever read

If you're in the "I wanna fuck Jonah" club, I wrote a commission that is NON CANON with pre ROF Jonah, non-madonna reader and Marcus (david harbour), where you're fucking both of them <3 the actions arent cnon but the insights into the characters are!

Madonna and Iris. Alicia is shipping it! What do you think?

Please consider joining me in in donating to humanitarian aid in Rafah through Doctors Without Borders

LOVE YOU ALL!

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If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

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joys-of-everyday · 8 months

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SJ and the Pitfalls of Toxic Masculinity

Liking women wasn’t shameful in the least, but treating a woman as your savior, shrinking into her embrace in search of self-confidence—Shen Qingqiu needed no one to tell him how incredibly shameful that was. So he would rather die than tell anyone, particularly not Yue Qingyuan.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Hot take: og!SQQ had toxic ideas about masculinity, and it ruined him.

SVSSS is all about the ✨Toxic Masculinity✨ but this seems to be more associated with SY than SJ??? So yeah, lets talk about SJ (my poor meow meow).

There’s actually some subtlety here, because talking about SJ and masculinity naturally involves an interplay between historical and modern views on masculinity in China, which is something that has developed over time and has influences from other cultures (e.g. the west and our views on masculinity). (Interesting thing if you haven't already come across it) I am… not qualified to read the subtleties here.

To note, SJ is coded as masculine… sort of. He’s the head of the scholarly peak, a master of the Four Arts, which is one facet of ideal masculinity in traditional Chinese values. (Fluttering a fan around was very gentleman-like. Although also, expressing your emotions through poetry and copious amounts of tears was very masculine back in the day. 'Traditional masculinity' has and always will be an elusive ideal.) But I get the feeling nowadays ‘scholarly’ has more feminine connotations than ‘martial’, albeit a slightly weaker one than in the west. Also, on the topic of toxic masculinity, certain groups of people Who Shall Not Be Named would like you to believe that Real Chinese Men are stoic warriors and ‘gayness is a western thing’ (my rage is unreal but we will not talk about that).

Anyway, broad strokes, broad strokes.

Arrogance and Insecurity

A big part of toxic masculinity is a need for social recognition, to be the ‘alpha male’ (not an ABO pun and on a side note I literally cannot take anyone talking about alpha males seriously now, for many reasons, but this is the funniest).

SJ is obsessed with his cultivation, but more pertinently, he is obsessed with his reputation. He demonstrates this in a few ways. Firstly, he works his ass off, which is not bad in itself, but he does this to the extent it is detrimental to his health (that grindset lol). Secondly, he projects a certain image with his actions and mannerisms: reading in order to seem intelligent, looking down at people to seem superior etc. Thirdly, he responds to any perceived slights of his ability with violence. (Fighting with LQG is an example, but also drawing a sword on SQH when he pointed out that he was reading an upside-down book.)

Now interestingly, the unanimous vibe that Cang Qiong seem to get from SQQ is that he is ‘arrogant’. When in truth, all of this is compensating for his insecurity.

Shen Qingqiu was overly suspicious, always feeling as if everyone was talking behind his back about how he was still incapable of forming a core, didn’t accept his position, wanted to sabotage him in secret, and so on and so forth.

- Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu Extra

Sadly, SJ is justified in being afraid of other people’s opinion. His comfort and security rely entirely on his status, which in turn rely on other people’s opinion of his competence. Of course he wants to get to the top – he’s been under other people’s power before, and suffered terribly as a result. Why should he not desperately defend what he has worked so hard for? Yet ultimately it works against him, because when he’s in serious trouble, he hasn’t been able to build the human connections he needs to get help.

The problem is with the system. The idea that having strength allows you to do whatever you want hurts not only the people regarded as inferior, but also creates a collective sense of anxiety for those who find themselves ‘at the top’. Anyone can be kicked down and treated like scum. Everyone is afraid.

Dominance and Bullying

The phrase ‘toxic masculinity is fragile’ quite often, but to elaborate, these kinds of rigid ideas of masculinity are by nature constantly under threat. Because any crack in the perfect shell is regarded as failure, it requires constant, aggressive maintenance, which takes the form of bullying the weak in order to elevate oneself.

SJ’s treatment of LBH is complicated, but here I want to draw attention to a different character – Ming Fan.

SQQ (SY) would have you know that MF is not a bad kid, other than the fact he’s a huge bully to LBH. And in part that comes from jealousy of NYY’s crush on him, but what allows it to happen is the way SJ runs the peak. It's interesting to note that so much of SJ's bullying of LBH happens through MF, whether it be giving him the faulty cultivation manual, giving him chores or physically assaulting him. In doing this, SJ creates a system that firmly establishes himself at the top, likely in order to give himself some semblance of security.

But ironically, this is the very system that SJ has suffered under his entire life, recreated to it's extreme on the peak that he controls. When he was completely under the power of others (QJL, LBH) he suffered. When other people were under his power, he inflicted suffering. He encouraged other people to do the same. Again, the whole thing is a scam! He is putting all of his energy into things that aren't helping him, things that ultimately bring him down.

Real Men Don’t Cry – the Dangers of Emotional Repression

SJ has many, very justifiable reasons in life to be upset and angry. The things he went through are both terrible and extremely unfair. Being angry at everything is not a healthy outlet for these feelings, but he hasn’t exactly been taught an alternative either. On the streets, tears would have gotten him absolutely nothing. Anger at least gave him energy to fight back.

And this destroys him. He is angry at the fact he had no one in his life who loved him, his talents were wasted because of QJL/WYZ, nobody takes his abilities seriously… and with no healthy way of expressing this, he goes onto bully LBH. LBH then returns to destroy him, literally. More subtly, he is unable to express his fear and anxiety in healthy ways, so acts standoff-ish and aggressive to his those around him. As his relationship with them deteriorates, his fear and anxiety increases. Feedback loops.

SJ puts on a mask of anger and stoicism to the point that everyone around him (including himself) is convinced that he is unrepentant and evil. Suppresses and suppresses until it breaks him, until he has nothing – not his comfort, nor status, nor the one that he truly cared for:

He had single-handedly facilitated Luo Binghe’s today, and now who had single-handedly created this outcome for him? Yue Qingyuan was never supposed to have an end like this. In order to come to a decades-late appointment, to fulfill a completely useless promise. A broken sword and a dead man. It shouldn’t be like this.

A Note on Ambivalent Sexism

It’s funny because I think there’s a fandom vibe that SJ was the secret feminist of SVSSS. Don’t get me wrong, I love this in fanfics. Badass feminist SJ all the way. But my honest opinion is that I don’t think that was the case.

More explicitly, I don’t think SJ took women seriously. NYY, for example. Certainly, SJ valued NYY. But the expression of this care involved doting on her, hiding his treatment of LBH from her, and not particularly pushing her to grow. And PIDW!NYY wasn’t implied to be the most mature of the lot. Okay, while we don’t know a lot about PIDW!NYY (narrator unreliable), it’s probably safe to say some distance from SJ helped her a lot.

Another point – the Qiu massacre. SJ killed the men, but not the women. And while this says more about his distaste for men, it also indicates (possibly - I will float this idea but I won't die on this hill) that he straight up doesn’t see any woman as an enemy, or capable of being a threat. Which is possibly a natural conclusion he’s drawn from his experiences (QHT was not very perceptive, or very threatening) but also inaccurate as a worldview.

And his attitude towards the women he sees as saviours? Has the same vibe as ‘it’s so embarrassing to be protected by a girl’.

Okay, so being doted on and not being killed are positives compared to being abused or murdered, but this kind of attitude is the opposite side of the same coin to ‘women are incompetent and inferior’. And when it comes to raising kids, not allowing them to grow can be extremely harmful as well. See e.g. Ambivalent sexism.

Although I do want to mention that I do not think SJ was like… actively misogynistic. I think he genuinely liked women more than men. The point is you can be sexist without realising it.

Conclusions

To conclude, SJ had ideas of success and self-worth associated with toxic masculinity which were instrumental in his downfall.

Masculinity doesn’t have to be toxic. While the Cang Qiong family aren’t exactly the healthiest bunch, YQY’s calm and patient leadership, LQG’s steadfast loyalty, LBH’s ability to cry like a maiden and still be the strongest… these are all traditionally masculine traits that can be very positive. These are also people who can have feminine traits and explore their gender identity without being prissy or weak.

It's the great tragedy of SJ that he had many positive characteristics. He was talented, intelligent, articulate, perceptive, loyal, and caring… under the right circumstances, he could have grown into a great person.

And maybe he still had that chance, right until the end.

#svsss #shen jiu #original shen qingqiu #svsss meta #having said i would disappear i have things to dislodge from my drafts

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txttletale · 5 months

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i keep coming back to this lyric from the mad stone. i think it's pretty clear that whatever physical object or specific concept the mad stone might be, it's a false solution. the call-and-response of the versus has the narrator constantly ask questions and then propose the same answer -- "i can make it a business / i can sell you it". the singer is a mountainhead, a true believer (or -- "nothing quite so romantic" "what is that, a religion?" -- a cynical trend-following grifter, inviting the question, what is the difference?). the mad stone offers nothing real, only pictures of pictures of a double. the whole song is one big false promise layered in cynical salesmanship. whatever the mad stone offers people, it's not an alternative to the system, it's not a solution to their problems, it's a product and a business.

but "the mad stone is singing, can you say the same?" seems to say -- well, at least these people who have bought into it all, these mountainheads, they might live in a pit and slave away at the whims of a mad stone, they might have hollowed out every part of their life until they only see simulacrums of simulacrums and filled the hollows in with the new frontiers of financialization -- but they're satisfied with this. that's happiness, isn't it? wouldn't you rather be blissfully ignorant, a true believer with a cause, happy -- singing -- than refuse the mad stone, refuse to be sold to, refuse to get "wild in the aisles, son" and be a mountainhead?

i think this comes back to a well everything everything go to a lot -- to the blade, the wheel is turning now, magnetophone, run the numbers, lost powers, lord of the trapdoor -- even when they present a viewpoint that the song straightforwardly derides or disavows in the broad strokes, they are always concerned with the people who don't. capitalism, imperialism, fascism, nationalism, terrorism -- everything everything describe them in bloodsoaked apocalyptic language, but they at the same time capture the seduction of it, the temptation, the reasons people might have for looking at the monsters they are painting and joining themselves to them (re-animator is in fact entirely about reconciliation and submission to the monstrous). and i think this lyric does that for the mad stone. yes, the capitalist hustle-culture financialized grindset is a false hope, but it's a hope. and if you reject that, what do you have?

(of course, this is not a rhetorical question without an answer, a lot of people, including, presumably, jonathan higgs, have answers to that question -- but i think it is a powerful question.)

i don't know, i just think it is easy to write a song that can say 'this is a lie' and more interesting to complicate it by adding 'but without the lie, you need something else'. i honestly read it as aspirational, as a reminder. if you're going to reject the mad stone, if you're not a mountainhead, you need to keep singing and you need something else to sing.

#tattletxt #everything everything #everything everything band #mountainhead

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scoobydoodean · 3 months

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ok so I deeply love and respect your thoughts on supernatural because the majority of them line up with what I've been thinking for years but you said something the other day that I keep turning over in my brain and it was something along the lines of carver liking dean more than sam - I know you're in the middle of rewatching s4 but I would love to hear you expound on that (if you have time) because I remember being in the fandom while carvernatural was airing and it was pretty much when the deangirl exodus started. in fact I think people tore into him worse than dabb even 😭

feel free to hold onto this until later when you start the carver seasons if you wish :)

<3 I'll go ahead and answer this one, because it's more of a "broad strokes" thing for me, and I've been rewatching very slowly (on purpose) so that could be a very long wait.

This is so funny because I can just picture Sam fans reading it and turning red and their blood boiling with the fire of a thousand suns but the TL;DR is that season 8-11 (Carver era) broad strokes to me are:

Sam sucks and is a worse brother and person than Dean.

Sam spends the first two seasons of Carver's run thinking he's a better person than Dean anyway and then the second two knowing he sucks, deciding to embrace his moral flexibility to keep Dean alive no matter the cost, and trying to mend things.

Dean is circled by many potential suitors who also in a sense represent Sam replacements because Sam sucks: Benny, Cas, Crowley, and Amara.

Dean knows that Sam sucks and part of him wants to get tf away from him very badly but another part of him feels guilty for wanting that. Family is suffering. Family is a chain around your neck keeping you tied to them via guilt. (Demon Dean represents the desire for escape, as does Amara).

Everybody wants to be with Dean, be Dean, and/or be loved by Dean. Dean is love. Dean is the world. Dean is the reason for existing. Everybody is lovesick about him. Sam is just there.

Sam needs to stop blaming Dean for so many things and learn to own his own choices.

That was fun to write down.

Longer commentary/explanation below the cut.

Season 8 (Carver's first season) literally begins with a Sam character assassination. It begins with us learning that Sam knowingly left Kevin to spend the rest of his life kidnapped and tortured without even telling a soul what happened to him. Not only did he abandon Dean and Cas as well but he didn't even look for them, and refuses to give a satisfying answer as to why.

Season 8 Sam's abandonment as distinct from previous behavior

I have had people this year who I love and respect tell me they don't view this as a character assassination and say they believe this is in character for Sam. I simply do not agree with that. I talk about this as it relates to Kevin here.

Sam has displayed selfishness and a big ego at many points in the series up to season 8. He's told a lot of lies (sometimes to the point of gaslighting), he's gone behind Dean's back to do things that affect Dean's life, he's taken traumatic experiences Dean opened up to him about and ultimately harmed Dean with them, he's shown resentments and anger, he's displayed jealousy, he's displayed a sense of superiority. He has never abandoned his brother to die without even trying. The Sam of season 3 would eviscerate season 8 Sam for this.

Sometimes Sam says and does things he shouldn't, but his crimes do not include "abandoning Dean to die without even looking for him" up to season 8. Many of his crimes happen at least partly because he really really doesn't want Dean to die or is desperate to save his life. He lets go of his anger at John and returns to make sure Dean is safe in 1.11. He refuses to give up and finds a way to save Dean in 1.12. In 1.22, he's willing to put John's life at risk for revenge, but in 2.01 he gets into an outright screaming match with John in the hospital under the belief that John's prioritizing the demon over Dean. Sam spends all of season 3 raging and angst-ing about not being able to save Dean to the point of considering and doing some shady as hell things/abandoning some of his more stalwart moral stances (3.05, 3.11, 3.15, 3.16). Dean's death and later, the desire to secure his safety/future, is one of the catalysts for Sam's descent into drinking demon blood (3.09, 3.16, 4.04, 4.09, 4.12). When he dies in "Swan Song", he urges Dean to pursue a normal, safe, life because he knows that at that point in time, Dean wants to get out but has always felt trapped (2.09, 2.10, 2.20, 3.01, 4.12, 4.16). Even Soulless Sam (who isn't the same as regular Sam) tried to look for Dean in 6.09 "Clap Your Hands If You Believe"—it was simply that when leads for the night dried up, he hooked up with someone because he had nothing more to go on and in soulless Sam's head that was the reasonable thing to do. But soulless Sam also certainly isn't representative of the real Sam—the fact that he doesn't care as much is supposed to point us to differences between him and regular Sam. Season 8 opens with Sam abandoning Dean in a context that makes him arguably worse than his soulless self.

(I talk about why Sam actually abandons everyone in season 8 in a very long post here).

Season 8 and 9 more broadly

So Carver has Sam abandon Dean to die without even trying. Then he has Sam refuse to give any kind of actually reasonable explanation that makes sense to anyone who was paying attention. Then he has Sam say that he's going to leave the life and Dean needs to get over it and accept that Sam's new life will not include contact with Dean (just like his life at Stanford didn't). While saying he's going to leave, he still wants to exert control over Dean's relationships and leverages the threat of leaving (as if he were going to stay) to get Dean to shut up about Sam abandoning him and then again to try and get Dean to cut ties with Benny. He wants to kill Benny before knowing a single thing about him. He assigns someone (Martin) who he knows is mentally unstable and has a more black and white perception of monsters to track Benny and gets Martin killed. He watches Martin knock Dean unconscious and chain him up in a room and doesn't stop it because he wants Benny dead that bad, but then has the audacity to act as if Dean sending him a fake text is worse than Sam literally chaining him up in a room to prevent Sam from killing an innocent person (someone Sam would normally—btw—defend based on episodes like 2.03 and 4.04 or even a few episodes ago with Kate in "Bitten"). He tells Amelia he wants to fight for their relationship then the moment Dan says they should leave the choice to Amelia, he leaves so that it becomes his choice, and then he returns for one episode just to be a homewrecker. He insists on doing The Trials while promising to survive them and giving a big speech about how he's going to save Dean from his own suicidal ideation and then drops the promise as if it never existed two episodes later. Sam loses confidence in himself to complete The Trials and then acts like Dean is the one who doesn't believe in him because Dean is caring for him and insisting he rest and this is an unforgivable offense. At the end of the season, he basically says he's going to commit suicide because Dean has friends besides him. He acts as if he deserves to be Dean's most trusted confidant after an entire season of him being an absolutely fucking terrible brother and acts like Dean is just a big meanie whose feelings are irrational.

After all of this, he has the audacity, in season 9, to suggest that Dean is a bad person who can't stand the thought of being alone. He tells Dean he's the worst person ever and they can only be work partners from now on because Dean is so so bad and evil for stopping him from committing suicide and then not telling him about Gadreel. At the end of the season he admits this was a lie. He just wanted to punish Dean (9.23).

I can see how—if you were watching live at the time (I started watching when season 11 was airing) you'd lose hope. You'd quit the show over all of this, because it seems to go on forever. It's like torture. I would drop kick season 8 Sam into a pit full of lava without hesitation so I get it. If I believed that Carver was actually saying "Yes so true Dean is The Worst™️ and Sam is morally superior <3" for two seasons straight I'd quit the show too. But that isn't what he's saying. We're supposed to read between the lines and realize how unbelievably full of shit Sam is—how deeply selfish and hypocritical he's being. How yes—Dean has made mistakes—but Sam is NOT a better person than him and has gotten away with some absolutely rancid garbage. And season 10 and 11 go on to beat you over the head with it if you didn't get it the first time.

Season 10 and 11

Season 10 opens with this dialogue from a demon:

I heard the rumors. I said "no, that can't be." A Winchester, one of us? But it's true, isn't it? Whatever soul you had; whatever boy scout code you cuddled up to at night; it's all gone. Leaving what? Look at you!

We're meant to think she's talking about Dean who just woke up with black eyes, but then the camera cuts to Sam torturing her, demanding to know where Dean is.

In 10.03, we learn that Sam talked a man (Lester) into selling his soul so he could use him as bait. Demon Dean ends up being assigned to fulfill Lester's deal (to kill his wife for cheating on him). Dean immediately clocks Lester as having cheated on her first and kills Lester for being an insufferable hypocrite... and while he's doing it, I'm pretty sure he's also thinking of Sam's flaming hypocrisy.

SAM: I never meant— DEMON DEAN: Who cares what you meant?! That line that we thought was so clear between us and the things that we hunted, ain’t so clear is it? Wow. You might actually be worse than me! I mean, you took a guy at his lowest, used him, and it cost him his life and his soul. Nice work.

NOTE: 10.03 also recalls 4.21—an episode Sam fans have always tended to emphasize as a "Dean crime" episode where Dean risks Sam's death to force a detox. Sam does the reverse—pumping Dean full of human blood here in 10.03 and explicitly risking his death.

Sam gets Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" while searching for The Book of the Damned.

SAM I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. SUZIE Lot of good “sorry” does me. Look at me. Look….at….me. [She points to her corpse.] There she is. The first casualty of your misguided mission. But what’s another human life to you? Anything’s worth it, as long as you two make it out alive. And how’s that search going? Any closer to a cure? SAM This isn’t real. You’re not real. SUZIE You think Dean’s the wild card, the loose cannon. But don’t you see? Making deals with witches, opening Pandora’s box down there? You’re the reckless one. You’ll do anything to keep clinging to that doomed brother of yours. How many more will die, Sammy? You know it. You have to be stopped. And the only one who can stop you is you!

A few episodes later, Sam orders Oskar's death for a spell to remove the Mark of Cain. I've seen hilarious posts before about how he had no choice but to do this because MoC Dean is so scawy and bad but that quite explicitly is not his motivation. They could have done so many other things. Throw him into space. Bury him in a really deep hole. Put him in something like The Cage. But Sam didn't like any of those options, because all of them meant being without his brother, and he's realized he doesn't want to be without him no matter the cost (10.18).

SAM So, awhile back, we had a chance to, um…close the gates of Hell. And in order to do that, I would’ve had to die. And, I was okay with that, and I am okay with that, but Dean was not. And so, he uh… CHARLIE He saved you. SAM Yeah, he saved me. CHARLIE And let me guess, in doing so, he did something you didn’t want, and that pissed you off. And you said something that hurt him? SAM Yeah, that sounds about right. [...] SAM You know, when Dean came to get me at school, I-I told myself… one last job, you know? One more job. And then when – when I, um…. When I lost Jess, I, again, told myself one more job. There’s always one more job, you know? And one more job, and one more job, and then I was gonna go back to law and – and to my life. CHARLIE You were the Dread Pirate Roberts of hunting. SAM Yeah. I guess I really understand now that….this is my life. I love it. But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t…. CHARLIE I got it. I-I do.

This all culminates in 10.23, where a very mentally unstable MoC Dean attempts to reason with Sam about them both being evil and needing to take themselves out:

DEAN: Remember when we were in that church, making Crowley human, about to close the Gates of Hell? Well, you sure as hell were ready to die for the greater good then. SAM: Yeah, and, Dean, you pulled me back. DEAN: And I was wrong. You were right, Sam. You knew that this world would be better without us in it. SAM: No, no, no, wait a second. You're twisting my words here, Dean. DEAN: Why? Because we -- we track evil and kill it? The family business? Is that it? Look at the tape, Sam. Evil tracks us. And it nukes everything in our vicinity -- our family, our friends. It's time we put a proper name to what we really are and we deal with it. SAM: Wait a second. We are not evil. Listen... We're far from perfect, but we are good. That thing on your arm is evil, but not you, not me. DEAN: I let Rudy die. How was that not evil? I know what I am, Sam. But who were you when you --when you drove that man to sell his soul... Or when you bullied Charlie into getting herself killed? And to what end? A-a good end? A just end? To remove the Mark no matter what the consequences? Sam, how is that not evil? I have this thing on my arm, and you're willing to let the Darkness into the world. SAM: You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way.

Dean is saying a lot of shady shit here, but some of what he's saying... isn't wrong?

Sam is willing to let The Darkness destroy the world, and he does, and then standing in the aftermath of a town being destroyed by the force he unleashed, Sam says:

SAM: I unleashed a force on this world that could destroy it . . . to save you. DEAN: And I told you not to. SAM: And I'd do it again. In a second, I would do it again.

Thousands of people are dying and Sam says he would do it again. This post about Sam's actions versus Dean stopping Sam from closing the gates of hell is highly relevant.

Season 11 continues with Sam taking a little more responsibility for his own decisions, while praying for Dean to live (11.02):

SAM: So . . . I know it's been a long time, but . . . Dean and I, we've -- we've been through a lot of bad. But this is different. This is my fault, and I don't know how to fix it. And if I have to die, I've made my peace with that, but . . . Please. Dean deserves better. Dean deserves a life. There are people out there, good people, who are going to suffer because of me, and I am not asking you to clean up my mess. Hell, I don't even know if you're out there, but . . . If you are . . . And if you can hear me, I, um . . . We need your help, God. We need to know there's hope. We need a sign.

And then there's the VERY long-awaited apology:

SAM When I was with Lucifer, he, um... He showed me things. It was like a highlight reel of my biggest failures. DEAN Yeah, he was messing with you. That's what he does. SAM Give me a sec. I should've looked for you. When you were in Purgatory, I... I should've turned over every stone.

Family (Sam) as chains

While all of this is happening, we also have Benny and Cas and Crowley and Amara.

Benny is contrast—someone whose goodness and selfless loyalty only makes Sam's horrible flaws stand out more sharply in season 8. Under the influence of the specter, Dean says, "Benny has been more of a brother to me this past year than you have ever been" and Sam can't stand it. It haunts him so bad he tries to kill Benny, and can't get over it even after the end of the season when Benny is fucking dead. He is unable to accept that the contrast between himself and Benny is his own fault.

Crowley and Dean's flirtations begin in season 9, as Sam suffocates Dean, and at the end of the season, Crowley has literally convinced Dean to run away with him. In 10.01, there is a delightful phone call where Crowley rubs it in Sam's face that Dean is with HIM:

SAM I don't know how you did this, what kind of... Black-magic stunt you pulled, but hear me --I will save my brother or die trying. CROWLEY You know what tickles me about all this? It's what's really eating you up. You don't care that he's a demon. Heck, you've been a demon. We've all been demons. No, it's that he's with me and he's having the time of his life. You can't stand the fact that he's mine. SAM He's not your pet. CROWLEY My pet? He's my best friend, my partner in crime. They'll write songs about us, graphic novels. “The Misadventures of Growley and Squirrel." Dean Winchester completes me, and that's what makes you lose your chickens.

It's this cruel callback to Sam's jealousy of Benny and Cas in season 8—how Crowley convinced Dean to finally ditch his smothering, controlling brat of little brother who can't stand him having friends, and now Dean is having the time of his life howling at the moon. The problem is, Dean also feels a little bit like maybe Crowley wants to control him too, and that isn't working for him.

Amara in season 11 goes on to further speak on terrible brothers who think they're better than you, who leave you betrayed and diminished, who abandon you. She's raging against the concept of family as chains—she wants revenge... but all the while she's in pain because she still loves her brother. Amara's attraction to Dean is based on that commonality—what she feels is a shared experience and how she wants to cut the last remaining pieces of love she feels for her brother away so she can finally be free of the pain of him—and she doesn't care if she destroys everything—including herself—in the process. (See: Dean slowly losing his identity through the MoC arc). Sam and Dean's relationship is in rehab over this whole season though, and so Dean's role ends up being to convince Amara not to destroy herself—to instead do what Sam and Dean have done and make up and work on improving their relationship.

#writer disk horse #carver #mail #multiseason #season 8 #season 9 #season 10 #season 11 #sams moral compass #deans moral compass #amara #crowley #benny #charlie #family chains

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oodlyenough · 1 month

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apollo justice: ace attorney thoughts

over the weekend I finished playing AA4 so I wanted to try to put my thoughts in order. much to think about etc

spoilers for the whole game obv, but i haven't played AA5 or AA6 yet so any mention of those are speculation lol

I had heard some pretty mixed reactions to AA4 and I had a lot of reservations going in. It's also probably the AA game I've played that I've been the most spoiled for, which is a shame but probably an unavoidable consequence of waiting for the port while engaging with the fandom. I don't usually like being spoiled but I think knowing the broad strokes of what to expect actually helped here. I can imagine an AU where I blitzed through the first trilogy and onto 4 with no idea of what was coming and being... very upset and disappointed by the direction it took. Having several months to brace for things like Phoenix's disbarment, the 7 year gap, Trucy, etc definitely softened those blows and made me more amenable to them than I would've been otherwise.

Cases

For the most part I thought the puzzle solving was good and the pacing was solid. The puzzles were mostly challenging enough to be satisfying to solve but not so challenging as to be infuriating, and I don't think I needed a walkthrough at all. 4-1 is one of the best tutorial cases in the franchise so far (though I'd give the edge to 3-1) and 4-4 was a really cool finale. The middle two cases tbh I also found fairly charming, and there's usually a least one case in the middle that seems to drag forever, so that was a pleasant surprise. I played Investigations 1 right before this, and I thought both the puzzles and pacing in that game were frankly horrible, so AA4 won a lot of points just with that.

I did think Turnabout Corner and Serenade would be more relevant in the grand scheme of things. The half-spoilers I knew had me expecting a much bigger web of conspriacy than we ended up with -- I expected it to be more than coincidence that Phoenix got hit by a car, more than coincidence that the Borginian egg coccoons are related to poison etc ... like... I fully assumed this was going to tie into the atroquinine plot. But I guess not ... ? Lol

Characters

The new main cast are all very likable, despite my initial reluctance to have a new main cast to begin with. Klavier was an interesting change of pace as prosecutor, in that he wasn't particularly antagonistic outside of the court, nor was he particularly preoccupied with winning, but he was still fun and challenging enough to face off against. Trucy was fun and delightfully bonkers as all assistants should be. Apollo's longsuffering exasperation was hilarious. Ema is the BEST I loved having her as the detective I wish she was there all the time.

I loved Beanix, for the most part. I can see why he rubs some people the wrong way, and tbh I'm glad his last canon outing isn't ... this. But I didn't find him wildly out of character, or at least, when he was feeling "out of character" vs the trilogy it made sense given the intervening events. I also thought it was fun to see him from the outside and see what a galaxybrain 5d chess master he is. I do wish we'd gotten to see more genuine moments of him with Trucy.

Kristoph was fun as a villain, though I have to say fandom led me to believe he was much more of a mastermind puppeteer than he seemed to be in reality. I was expecting a whole decade worth of conspiracies! Instead he fucked up once and struggled to fix it for seven years, lol. I also found the Kristoph/Phoenix relationship a) very fascinating, b) not really what I'd been led to believe by fandom (shocker). I like the canon more though -- I like that instead of being a retread of the Dollie betrayal-from-someone-you-love it was two guys who hate each other being forced to play nice as part of their own schemes.

Criticism

I think it's fairly obvious AA4 was meant to be a soft reboot of the series, to pivot away from the trilogy cast and set up our new heroes in Apollo, Trucy, and I guess Klavier. I think this is probably the entire explanation behind Maya and Edgeworth (and others but lbr those are the big two)'s conspicuous absence... but that doesn't make their absence any less conspicuous. I can squint and forgive neither of them being there when Phoenix is accused of murder, even though I find that insane. I can squint around Maya maybe being off in Kurain during the Enigmar trial, even though I think they could've used a line of dialogue to explain it. But then we started playing past-Phoenix for huge portions of investigation and that started to fall apart for me. Sure, maybe he's pushing his friends away because he's depressed, or maybe he wants to keep Maya out of things because he thinks it's dangerous, or whatever -- you could at least throw in a line or two saying as much. Not mentioning them at all and setting AA4 so closely after AA3, where Phoenix fell through a bridge to save Maya and Edgeworth chartered a private jet, just feels ridiculous.

I also think, at the end of the day, the story here was focused on and pivoting around Phoenix. The core question of the game is "what the hell happened to/is up with Phoenix Wright?" I love Phoenix, so that alone isn't a negative -- except that I think it meant Apollo, Klavier and even Trucy felt underwritten. Trucy and Klavier have such personal stakes in the unfolding events with the Gramaryes and Kristoph, but we only spend a little time and hints on how that might influence Trucy, who mostly falls into the AA weird girl pattern of brushing off major trauma instantly. (Maya got this a lot too in the original trilogy.)

Klavier ... I like Klavier, but they did not do much with him. How did he feel about Kristoph going to jail? He doesn't seem to hold it against Apollo, which is uh, noble, but perhaps not believable. He says he values honesty and truth but do we know why?

Apollo, likable as he was, felt like a passenger in his "own" game, rather than a major character. He doesn't even solve much of the stuff happening in the big overarching mystery -- he is Phoenix's avatar in court, presenting evidence and clues Phoenix left for him. Unlike Trucy and Klavier, who I am pretty sure take a back seat from now on, I guess Apollo still has two more games to try and flesh himself out ... lol but I also know fan reception of those two is not great, so my expectations there are minimal.

Overall

A really solid game that I enjoyed playing, though I can see why it's controversial and not some people's favourite, if they really loved the trilogy. I think it's debatable whether this was the best/only way to continue the series after AA3. And I am excited to read and write a billion 7 year gap fics now.

#ace attorney #aa4 spoilers #oodly plays AA #apollo justice: ace attorney

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astarionmademewriteit · 4 months

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Ch. 2: My Forbidden Lover

MDNI. 18+ ONLY. Blank bios will be blocked.

Enver Gortash x f!Durge (pre-tadpole)

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3.4k

Tags: Pure smut; Oral (female receiving); Face fucking; Dom/sub dynamic; Bondage; PIV rough sex; Blood kink; Cum Play; Praise and degradation kink; Bodily harm (in a sexual context); Orgasm denial (kinda? But not exactly); Choking; Biting; Durgetash is switch-coded; Subby Gortash; Minor jealousy; Brief mention of Astarion's background with non-consentual sex; Really graphic depictions of sex.

Summary: After having come to an agreement with Astarion and plotting to kill Cazador, the dark urge goes home with her lover Gortash where they engage in filthy sex.

A/N: Please refer to the first chapter to set the scene. This is pre-tadpole days where the Dark Urge has an established relationship with Gortash and befriends Astarion while he is still in the clutches of Cazador. The story will follow her eventual amnesia and Illithid kidnapping where she will fall for Astarion, who doesn't reveal the fact that he knew her from before the Nautiloid crash.

I meant for this chapter to spill over into the next day when Durge meets up with Astarion, but I'm a simp for Durgetash and it just got away from me. Please enjoy!

Ch. 1 | AO3

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵

We walk through the brisk night air, the stars spatter the sky–holding their ancient secrets close. I hook my arm through Gortash’s as we stroll through the streets. We are sporadically approached by admirers of Enver, offering their gratitude for all he has done for the city.

“I assume our new friend was receptive to your requests?” Enver murmurs once we catch a moment alone.

“He’ll warm to the idea. He is understandably terrified of Cazador,” I stroke his broad arms, contemplating my conversation with Astarion, “I sweetened the deal. In return for information, I promised to provide him with blood and a victim for Cazador. I assume that won’t be a difficult request to fulfill.”

Enver nods, “We can supply him with a thrall. They should comply willingly,” He stops and moves to face me, “As for the blood, dear assassin?” His question does little to hide the concern underpinning his tone.

“Enver, you wound me,” I close the little distance between us, pressing my body flush against his, “I have access to plenty of blood. Why are you concerned?” I cock an eyebrow, waiting for him to confess.

He chuckles darkly, recognizing my playful banter, “I do not relish the idea of sharing you. Especially your delectable blood,” he lines the column of my throat with gentle nips at my flesh, “I would hope that was just reserved for me,” he growls.

I run my fingers through his dark hair, pulling away to look into his eyes, “You have the exclusive privilege of spilling my blood, Enver,” I place a small kiss on the corner of his mouth, “In any case, Astarion and I are kindred spirits. I recognize myself in him,” I contemplated the thinly-veiled terror that he had tried hard to mask, but I recognized it for what it was immediately. His volatile environment wrangled him into submission, and he was forced to do things that I believe he was unwilling to do–completely severed from his own autonomy.

It was similar to my condition, although I still had the freedom to make choices–choices that Astarion was completely robbed of. It was my hope that our new agreement would help him regain some of his autonomy, no matter how little–even if it was to my advantage, at least for now. I felt a small pang of guilt, wondering if he felt used in other ways instead. I would have to ask him tomorrow.

“Indeed,” Enver agrees after a moment, “But, do not lose sight of the grand design, my love. We are no heroes”

A smile plays on my lips, “If I didn’t know better Enver, I would think you were jealous,” I hook my arm through his once again and we begin our tread back to his waiting palace.

Once we are safely inside the confines of his home I rest on the edge of Enver’s desk while he writes correspondence and runs through the list of powerful targets that threaten our plans. Next on our list was the beloved Duke Ravenguard–he could be a powerful asset should we enthrall him with an Illithid tadpole. I offer to send Orin, my bloodkin, to complete the task so that we may focus on other things.

“That’s enough work for tonight, my dear,” I caress his cheek with the back of my knuckles and he watches me with a darkened expression. I lift myself from his ornate mahogany desk and move towards Enver who still sits in his chair. I turn and sit on his lap, peering over my shoulder and watching him expectantly.

He sweeps my hair to one shoulder and slowly begins to pull the zipper down the back of the evening gown I wore to Cazador’s ball–taking great care to ensure the delicate fabric does not catch in the zipper.

I stand and let the soft fabric slip from my shoulders until the garment pools at my feet. His eyes rake over my exposed body, drinking in my frame with hungry eyes. I drive the heel of one of my shoes into his chest, waiting patiently as he nimbly unbuckles the straps around my ankle. He places small kisses up the calf of my leg, nipping at my flesh–hungry to taste me.

I kick off my heel and repeat the same gesture with my other foot. He glides his hand up my calf to my inner thigh, digging the claws of his gold filigree gloves into my flesh. His hard grasp dimples my flesh until he draws blood and a sigh escapes my lips. He places small kisses along my inner thigh as he works to unbuckle my shoe.

Once I have discarded my shoe, I watch him with eager eyes as he works his way towards my upper thigh, savoring the way his lips feel as they bite and suck at my flesh–tasting my blood. I intertwine my fingers through his dark hair, willing him to focus his attention at the apex of my thighs.

His agonizing slow pace up my inner thigh has me growing impatient, “Enver,” I growl in warning, tightening my grip on his hair until a satisfied groan falls from his lips.

“Far be it from me to keep my favorite assassin waiting,” he murmurs before swiping his tongue up the seam of my dripping cunt. I instinctively pull at his hair more aggressively as he tongues and sucks at my sensitive clit. My legs immediately begin to shake as pleasure undulates through my body.

Enver repositions my leg until it is resting on his shoulder, providing him with a new devastating angle that practically sends me into a frenzy. I hold his head against my aching cunt and throw my head back as I hear his stifled breathing. “Be a good boy for me, Enver,” I growl, “You may only draw breath once I’ve been satisfied, or you can suffocate. Whichever comes first.”

He moans as he slips his tongue into my slick entrance, nosing my clit in the process. His warm tongue fucking me expertly until I’m panting uncontrollably. He hums into my pussy, sending tantalizing vibrations straight to my core.

He hooks his arm around my thigh, pulling me closer as he hungrily services me–his golden filigree claws drawing more blood as they dig deliciously into my flesh. The pain brings me such pleasure that I can feel myself building to a dizzying crescendo.

Enver continues to drag his tongue in slow concentric circles around my clit, sucking and nipping at it until I’m losing myself–spiraling into an intense climax that has me writhing underneath his tongue. I grind myself against his face–his stubble adding another layer of overwhelming sensations that has me coming undone just for him. He growls against me as I drag my sensitive cunt against his face, relishing the way I use him for my pleasure.

Once I’ve come down from my orgasm, Enver pulls away–his face gleaming with my slick. I pull him up by the collar of his robe, and we collide into a feral kiss. The taste of my arousal and the coppery aftertaste of blood fills my mouth as our tongues slide against one another.

I finger at his robes, clumsily unlacing the clothes that separate me from his flesh. He assists me in removing his clothes, our lips crashing back together with a ferocity that could buckle my knees. I push him hard until he is falling on the bed behind him, my eyes scanning his exposed flesh, devouring him completely. I circle the bed before grabbing his wrist and binding them to the bedpost with barbed wire that cuts deeply into the exposed flesh beneath his golden lattice gloves. I repeat the gesture with his other wrist, and watch as blood flows freely from his wrists–dripping down his arms in crimson rivulets. I drag my tongue up his arm, drinking in the taste of his life-essence, and ecstasy thrums through my body at his flavor.

“You taste so good, my love,” I murmur before making my way to the foot of the bed and crawling up his body until I’m straddling his waist.

“It’s all for you, my assassin,” he croaks, his voice gravelly and thick with lust.

I drag my nose up his throat, sucking and kissing at his salty skin. I sink my teeth into the soft flesh where his neck meets his broad shoulders, and Enver cries out in pleasure as blood rushes to the surface. I can practically hear his heart beating against his ribcage as blood fills my mouth–his wrists pulled taut against his restraints, causing more blood to flow freely from his veins.

“I love when you bleed for me, Enver,” I growl into his ear. His heavy panting rings like music through the bedroom, and I savor the way his body writhes impatiently beneath me, “You’re doing so well,” I praise, which only spurs his need to be inside me.

“Please,” he whispers, begging to feel my cunt wrapped around his leaking cock.

“Oh, Enver,” I whisper seductively, cupping his face with my hand, “How I love to watch you squirm.” I line myself up with his throbbing cock, already leaking with pre-cum.

His swollen head immediately stretches me wide open, and I cannot stop the moan that falls from my lips as he fills me completely. Enver whimpers beneath me as my pussy slides down his length at an agonizingly slow pace until I am sitting flush against him. I clench around him instinctively, forcing another moan to escape his lips.

I lean over and crush my lips to his as I begin to rock my hips seductively against him. I bite hard into his lip, drawing more of his sensational blood–relishing the coppery taste as it fills my senses completely. My nails dig into his hairy chest and welts immediately begin to form, marking him as mine.

I lift myself up and begin riding him slowly, savoring the way his cock spears into me–threatening to split me in two. I clench my pussy around his length every time his cock withdraws from me, effectively massaging his swollen head.

“Gods below,” he moans underneath me, “You’re so perfect, my dear assassin.” He instinctively bucks his hips, brushing against my cervix and causing me to cry out in shock. He drags his cock slowly out of me before forcefully thrusting back inside, hitting my sweet spot with agonizing precision. The barbed wire confining his wrists continues to pull blood from his flesh, painting him like a beautiful masterpiece.

I lean back, propping myself on his thighs as I continue to ride him relentlessly–allowing him to watch as he pierces me with his throbbing member. My arousal rings like a symphony throughout the room, only spurring me to ride him harder. My nails dig into his thighs, bringing more blood to the surface. I watch as his body slowly trickles with blood and images of our own demise flit through my mind.

I knew I wanted to keep him until fate intervened and I was forced to kill him and myself in Bhaal’s name. It would be incredibly beautiful, slicing his flesh open until he had been drained of blood completely. I would die a beautiful death next to my lover–and I would be free of the carnage I was meant to exact on this world. And it would all be by his side.

As the images flit through my mind, my desperation becomes more prominent. I can feel myself nearing the edge of no return. My body begins to quiver as he continues to meet me thrust for thrust until I am exploding into a tantalizing climax–falling over the edge into a depth of pleasure that I could only ever experience with Enver.

His name falls from my lips and echoes throughout the room like a haunted hymn as he coaxes the pleasure from my body. Enver’s breathing becomes ragged and I can tell he is chasing his own release. I cannot help the sadistic tendencies that wash through my body in moments like these.

I wrap a shaky hand around his throat as I continue to ride him with newfound ferocity born from my own ecstasy. He watches me with a dark expression as he nears his own climax, biting at his bruised bottom lip as I apply pressure to his throat, cutting off his blood flow momentarily.

His eyes roll into the back of his head and a dangerous smirk plays on my lips when I think about how desperate he sounds. Just when he is on the verge of climax, I pull myself off him completely and watch as thick ropes of cum spill from him and onto his stomach. He bucks his hips desperately searching for any kind of friction that will ride him through his climax–to no avail.

I release my grip from his neck and he eyes me with unfiltered frustration when he realizes the game I’m playing. His wrists are pulled taut against the barbed wire–the metal digging into his flesh as he struggles against them, desperate for some satisfaction as his hollow orgasm washes through him.

He lets out an animalistic growl as I remove myself from the bed, a dark grin gracing my features as I watch him struggle. “Oh, Enver,” I chuckle sadistically, “You never learn, do you?” I inch towards a bar cart and pick up an expensive decanter, leisurely pouring myself a glass of rich dark liquor. I seat myself in his chair, and watch as he grows more desperate by the minute.

“Please, my love,” he eyes me with wild anguish, pulling against his restraints harder than before–ignoring the stinging pain that travels through his arms. I cross my legs and lean back, taking another sip of the strong liquor. It burns my throat as it goes down, and the satisfaction I feel as I watch him squirm is delectable. My body welcomes the warmth of a roaring fire nearby and I sit and watch as he fights against his restraints–admiring the way his crimson blood paints his flesh.

“Gods, you look so pathetic, Enver,” I chuckle, “It’s utterly adorable.” I throw back the rest of the liquor–it’s rich burn soothing my throat and it’s warmth washing through my body completely.

Enver has settled down slightly, but I can tell he has found no satisfaction in his climax–just as I had hoped. “My beloved assassin, this hardly seems fair,” he grumbles–his voice perfectly diplomatic.

“When have you known me to play fair, my love,” I shoot back playfully, gripping the arms of the chair, “Besides, I’ve decided that you haven’t begged nearly enough for my liking.”

He glares at me from the bed, and a satisfied smile pulls at my lips as I wait patiently for him to convince me that he deserves his own fulfillment. Plea after plea begins to spill from his lips, his body continuing to fight against his restraints as he grows more and more desperate. I tap my foot impatiently as he continues to beg.

It isn’t until a tear of frustration falls from his eye do I stand, effectively quieting his supplications as he watches me closely. I move to the foot of the bed and crawl over him once again, and I can hear as his breath catches in the back of his throat. I drag my tongue across his stomach, licking up his spent–savoring its unique taste. I smack my lips when I’m done and note that Enver is hard once again as he watches me clean up the mess he made.

I pull away from the bed and move to release him from his restraints–kissing his wrists and sucking the blood that paints his skin in a rich crimson. I repeat the gesture once again with his other wrist. As soon as he is free from his constraints, he charges forward, pouncing on me like a wild, untamed animal.

“My turn,” Enver growls in my ear as he tangles his rough fingers into my hair and pulls back hard until I’m looking up at his looming form. He forces me across the room and throws me into the edge of his desk, the hard wood digging into my hips deliciously.

I whimper under his hardened touch as he bends me over his desk and presses my face into the desk with aggressive strength. He forces himself inside me without a moment to lose, desperate to feel my wet cunt wrap around his cock once again.

He begins a punishing pace, rutting his hips into me with unrelenting force that causes uncontrolled moans to fall from my lips. He places a large, rough hand on my waist and forces me down, causing me to arch my back until he is hitting my sensitive spot over and over again.

The force with which he fucks me into his desk causes papers to fall from the table top–teetering to the floor. Ink splatters across his desk as it tips over with every thrust. My cries rip through the air as he spears himself into me, allowing his frustrations to spill over into his movements.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growls as he slams into me–the desk digging painfully into my flesh with every cant of his hips. I dig my nails into the desk, trying to steady myself, but it is useless as he continues to abuse my dripping pussy.

The force of his hips slamming into me sends me over the edge once again and I cry out with unfiltered ecstasy as I fall from grace–my orgasm rocking through my body causing my cunt to spasm wildly around his length.

“There you go, my dear assassin,” He growls, “Just like that, baby.” He talks me through my climax, and the rush of adrenaline courses through my body as his claws dig into my flesh, bringing blood to the surface.

I whine underneath him as he uses me for his own pleasure–our roles effectively reversed in a matter of minutes. His breath grows ragged as he watches his arousal spear into me over and over again with such force that I fear the desk will tip over.

Once I’ve recovered from my orgasm, I feel his thrusts becoming sloppier as he chases his own, deserved release. “Cum for me, Enver,” I beg as his breath grows heavy with ecstasy. He thrusts into me violently a few more times before he is spilling into me–his cock spasming wildly inside me as he cries out my name. He whimpers out a string of expletives as he is awarded with his own pleasure.

He leans over me, his body flush against mine as he continues to fuck through his orgasm–savoring the feeling he was so cruelly denied just minutes earlier. I moan loudly, his name falling from my lips like a prayer of devotion until he finally stills inside me.

We catch our breath, neither of us daring to move until we have regained our strength. Enver chuckles darkly above me before pulling out of me completely. I whine at his sudden absence but gather myself as much as possible. I will my shaky legs to move back to the bar cart and pour us both a drink while Enver rests in his chair, sweat dripping down his dark features.

I offer him a glass before curling into his lap and nuzzling into his shoulder, noting the dried blood streaks that mar his body. I bite back a satisfied smile as I replay the events of tonight in my mind.

After a moment, Enver sighs, “We have made a mess of things, my dear,” he ruffles my hair with a rough hand before chuckling under his breath. “I think a warm bath is in order.” I nod my head in agreement, suddenly too tired to speak. “We have a great many things to accomplish tomorrow, my lovely assassin.” He throws back his drink and polishes off his glass in a few large gulps.

I wrap an arm around his waist as I continue to nurse my drink–memorizing the way his body feels against mine. I laugh to myself, realizing that I could never forget how his body feels against mine. I turn my thoughts to what lies ahead, already calculating more plans for the grand design.

I couldn't imagine doing this without him–My forbidden lover.

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f1tyreslightmyfyre · 6 months

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Immortal Artistry - Ch. 3

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 3 Warnings: Language; stalker behavior; abduction; vampire thrall; WWII references to Hitler and Nazi regime; non-graphic violence, murder and death

2023

A tall man stands before you in the parking garage with sandy blonde hair, broad shoulders and a lean, tapered waist that shouldn’t be so distracting in such a risky situation. He braces one hand against his hip and the other hangs at his side as he offers a small smile. “Hello.” He says your name, and all of your survival instincts go on high alert.

Your heart hammers as adrenaline lights you up. “Wha… who are you?” You freeze in place, gripping your laptop bag to swing it in self-defense if needed. “H-how do you know my name?”

“My name is Max, and Charles told me.” His mouth pulls to a tight, closed-mouth smile as if indulging a small child. “And, really, nothing more should be said right now. And certainly not here.”

“O-okay.” You force a hard swallow. “Um, then… I’ll just be on my way.” You motion towards your car behind him, but he takes a step forward with a tense shake of his head.

“I’m afraid you can’t do that. Or, at least, not yet.” He says, taking another step forward, and you instinctively step back. “There are some things that you’re better off understanding first.”

“I-I don’t need to understand anything.” You stammer, taking another backwards step but it’s no match for his forward advance. “I haven’t done anything, and if you so much as fucking touch me, I’ll scream and bring the security guard running.”

He sighs in vague annoyance, but hardly looks deterred. “Well, we could have done this the easy way – believe me when I say that I’m here for your protection, that I don’t want to see you hurt – but I guess we’ll just have to do it the hard way.”

He lunges forward with a burst of impossible speed, holding your gaze captive with his own. His ice blue eyes glow like twin stars, and you’re helpless to look away. Waves of warmth and security roll through you, and… why exactly were you trying to get away from him? Especially as the comforting weight of his palm cups your jaw and his fingers caress your cheek. You want to melt into him, to never be without him, to always have him like this.

“That’s it,” he rumbles gently, stroking your cheek. “Now that we’ve made up from our fight, give me a hug for the camera…”

Your arms wrap around him without a second thought, and fuck… the solid, firm build of him sends your blood racing.

“That’s my girl.” He praises through the fog in your ears, pressing his lips against your other cheek. “Now, shall we get on with our date night? Loop your arm around my waist now, come on, and how about a smile…?”

He draws back and you're helpless not to drown under his lovely gaze as he shifts to your side. Your arm lands around the lean line of his waist as a smile brightens your face, and really… what’s so bad about this?

Your footsteps match his as you both draw up to your car and he guides you into the passenger seat. A whimper passes your lips as the lean strength of his body withdraws, and you try to reach out for him as he closes the door.

“No, schatje.” He says gently as he folds your hand back in your lap. “I’ll just be a minute.”

The door closes, and you can’t breathe as he circles around the front of the car and slides into the driver’s seat. It’s only as his hand envelops yours that the weight lifts from your chest and you stare at him, helpless to look anywhere else.

You barely hear the sound of the engine ignition or see the passing city lights as he cuts through the night. You don’t even know where you are as he finally brings the car to a stop. But again, the distance between you as he walks over to the passenger side of the car lances anxiety through you until his hand reconnects with yours – and you never want to be without him. How could you? Why would you?

“Come on,” he whispers carefully as your feet move against a smooth surface – concrete, you think. A driveway. “This way…” He coos as he guides you forward and you cling to him, uncaring about anything else.

He pushes a large door open and golden light floods your vision. You can just make out white and cream blurs that might be furniture, but when you’re in his arms like this, who cares about furniture?

“Charles!” Max calls out loudly, and you press your ear tight against his chest as if to drown out the loud noise. “Charles, get down here!”

His strong arm disappears from around your waist and you're gently coaxed to sit on something soft and cushy. But you only have eyes for him as he starts to draw back, and you reach out for him as another voice echoes in your foggy brain.

“Mon dieu…” The voice is pure astonishment. “Max, what the hell is this? What is she-”

“George found her.”

“Fucking hell… and you had to bring her here for that?”

“You put her in danger and you need to get her out of it.”

“Seb would say that we should just drain her and be done with it.”

“And it may yet come to that, but with Xavi’s death, we might need her.”

“… Fine.” A long sigh follows, and another man moves into your vision. He’s… vaguely familiar, like a shadow from a distant dream, but he’s not the one you want..

Your hands reach out, feebly searching for what you know you’ll surely die without.

“Good lord, Max.” The man in front of you sighs again. “You didn’t have to go so hard on her.”

“I barely used my thrall… that’s all her, mate.”

“Then, get her out of it. Now.”

That same strong, comforting hand finds your jaw, and you reconnect with those gorgeous glacial eyes. All feels so right with the world and nothing could possibly –

“As you were.” Max commands, and the fog lifts.

You gasp as you come back to yourself, overloaded by too many realizations at once.

For one, the home you’re in is cavernous and opulent – for fuck’s sake, it's a mansion… if not a palace.

For two, Charles Leclerc, III, crouches down in front of you, dressed in grey joggers and a white t-shirt, looking far too relaxed despite the annoyed set of his handsome face.

For three, Max from the parking garage stands next to him with a terrifyingly neutral expression on his face.

“Where… what the fuck just happened? How did I get here? And…” your mouth goes dry and words choke in your throat. “Why am I here? I-I don’t know anything about what happened to Padros -”

“It’s alright,” Charles cuts off your rambling. “You’re not in danger, at least not from us.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I suppose you would say that.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth lifts. “And if I really did intend to hurt you, a comment like that could earn you a backhand across the cheek.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The wicked lift of Charles’ mouth grows. “I don’t need to strike you to pacify you.”

A terrifying mix of vulnerability and arousal curdles in your blood. You’re suddenly all too aware of these intimidating men before you, and you’re still entirely too discomforted that you can’t recall anything about how you got here. To this… mansion with these two handsome – gorgeous, really – men staring down at you, oozing all confidence and power.

Dammit, this is not the time for your kinky side to take hold.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your unease and regain some modicum of control despite how powerless you feel. “Okay… but why am I here?”

Charles blinks back at you. “I’m given to understand that you know George Russell.”

Indignation furrows your brow. “And just how is that any of your business?”

“I’m told that it’s my fault he contacted you.”

The wrinkled set of your brow deepens. “You’re ‘given to understand’, you’re ‘told’… do you not do anything for yourself?”

Max snorts a breathless laugh. “You know, she has a point, mate.”

Nothing in the handsome lines of Charles’ face changes despite the hint of a smirk coming to his face. “I’ve known Max for quite a long time, and you wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t true.” He shifts his weight, bracing a forearm against a knee. “Has George told you anything?”

You arch an incredulous brow. “Anything about what…? Just what the fuck is going on here?” Frustration tightens your voice as your hand clenches in your lap. “He’s nobody, alright? George hasn’t told me anything! He’s never mentioned either of you. He’s just some new guy at work –"

“How new?” Charles’ tone is disconcertingly calm.

“A couple of weeks, he said.”

“And when did you first meet him?”

“The night….” A chill races down your spine as your mind catches up to your adrenaline-fueled instincts. “I was leaving work just after our meeting, just after I had met you…”

Charles’ eyes brighten as the connection is made. “And where did you meet George? Behind the secured access points of your building?”

“No…” A shiver creeps along your skin. “In the parking garage… and then again, in the main lobby…”

Max shakes his head with a scoff. “It’s easy enough to walk around a vehicle barrier or into an open lobby during business hours.”

The realizations mix with the memory of your search for George in your company’s chat program. And after hearing Charles say George’s full name tonight, you hadn’t misheard, nor had you misspelled ‘Russell’ so poorly. Your mouth goes dry at the implication as your stomach sours.

But the last thing you want to do is admit that Charles is right. That this man, whose - lacky? Minion? Bodyguard? Max? – abducted you to his house, is actually telling the truth.

Charles blinks and gives his head a gentle shake. “For that and all of this, I do apologize. I didn’t intend to put you in such danger.”

You fix Charles with a hard stare. “But what about Xavier? If he had met with you instead of me, would George have contacted him, too?”

An enigmatic expression comes to Charles’ face. “I’m afraid those are questions for another time. This is about George, not Xavi.”

“But they’re connected, aren’t they?” You try to seek the answer in Charles’ face. “They have to be.”

The muscles of Charles’ jaw tighten. “If George contacts you again, don’t engage with him. Don’t help him. And paramount for your own safety, never look him in the eyes.”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous. And makes no sense.” Another frustrated sigh escapes you. “Nothing happens from looking someone in the eyes. We’re not wolves, for fuck’s sake.”

Max sighs. “It’s not aggression that you need to worry about from him. Hypnosis is far more dangerous.”

“Hypnosis?” You glare up at Max as creeping realization overtakes you. “Is that how I got here...?” You feel stupid for even asking the question, but very little about this entire conversation makes sense. “You…” your gaze trails back to Charles. “Max hypnotized me…?”

The corner of Charles’ mouth edges up, revealing the gleam of white teeth. “You probably shouldn’t make direct eye contact with him, either,” he chuckles with a suggestive undertone. “Unless you want to, of course. Plenty of people do.”

You recoil at the implication, leaning back against the chair as Charles’ gentle laugh continues.

Max sighs with thinly veiled annoyance. “Come on, Charles. Don’t play with your food.”

The words rot in your gut and you dart wide eyes up to Max. All your instincts urge you to fight for escape – to flee for your life – but you have precious few options. Especially as Charles leans closer and his eyes darken above his attempt at a calming smile.

“He’s only joking. You needn’t be so frightened, cara mia.” He coos gently as his gaze runs over your face and down your neck with a sudden, startling hunger. “Your heart is beating so fast.”

“Well, what do you expect?” You hiss, grabbing the chair armrests as if that would save you. “You hypnotize me, you fucking kidnap me –”

Charles pushes to his feet. “Technically speaking, that was all Max. He had no direction from me to do so, but I’m glad that he did bring you here.” He shakes his head as he braces a hand on his hip and looks at Max. “This development is an unfortunate wrinkle. Surprising, even.”

Max nods shortly. “They’ve never come this close.”

Charles hums in quiet agreement. “That’s something we should look into. But first,” he turns back to you with a quick glance. “Take her home. Put her to bed.”

“And the rest…?”

Charles steps around him, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder that borders on overly intimate. “I trust you.”

You push up from the chair, heart pounding as you seize the moment and start to run. But faster than you can breathe, a strong, solid arm hooks around your waist. You collide with the broad plane of Max's chest, and he isn’t even breathing hard as his chilly fingers find your jaw. Fuck, just why is his skin so cold? “Please…" you whimper. “Please don’t –"

“I know, schatje.” Max says softly as he tips your face up towards his and you glimpse those ice blue eyes. “Right here, that’s it.” He praises as your gazes lock. “Just like that…”

The world turns warm and fuzzy, and calmness suffuses you. Your muscles relax from the tension and relief surges through you. Tears sting your eyes and roll down your cheeks as you all but dissolve into the only source of comfort and protection that you need.

Max holds you close as you desperately cling to him. “I know, I know,” he says with a slight edge of irritation, and he guides your unsteady feet. “But like Charles said, you don’t need to be frightened of us. After all, this is just a dream. Just a dream.”

The words resound in your brain.

Just a dream.

1943

Nightfall in the Netherlands continues to yield its secrets. Each German-occupied country possesses scars of the looting conquerors and Charles’ keen nose for the hunt continues to surprise both him and Seb.

And he’s not just referring to the acrid smoke in the air.

“Fucking bombers.” Charles grouses. “Can they not tell the difference between a factory and a museum?”

“I imagine it’s difficult.” Seb muses as dirt crunches against the cobblestone beneath their feet. “Mortals’ vision is already so limited and from that high altitude, moving at those speeds.” He tilts his head up to the hazy sky in assessment. “How could you accurately tell one building from another?”

“Factories have chimneys and black smoke.”

“Not all of them do. Textile miles don’t… at least,” Seb pauses as he frowns. “Well, they didn’t use to. But maybe they do now… the Industrial Revolution was a fascinating thing to witness, but far too much smoke to tell one factory from the next in the city centers. Even for one such as myself.”

Charles quirks a wry grin. “You surprise me, Seb. For a man of reason and organization, you should have nothing against the Industrial Revolution.”

Seb shrugs a shoulder. “Progress always comes with a cost. The ages teach us that, if nothing else. Exploration comes with rampant disease. Colonization comes with inherent subjugation. Industrialization comes with unjust squalor. And technology comes with mass destruction.”

Charles hums in quiet consideration. “Is that what you saw during the Great War?” He has heard about the terrors of trench warfare and gas bombs, but he has no basis for comparison. Hell, even as an immortal, he barely has a stomach for the current war.

“Yes.” Seb’s voice holds the heavy weight of unwanted memory as they round a corner onto a side street. “Mercifully, the horrors unleashed by that war are yet to be repeated on this battlefield.”

Charles heaves a sigh – not that he needs to breathe anymore, but it’s oddly habitual. “Do you suppose there’s any hope that mankind will ever stop inventing ways to kill one another?”

A wry smirk cracks Seb’s face as he glances over in this darkness. “You don’t really want my –”

A muffled groan and grunts in German slice through their conversation. Charles’ gaze snaps to the street ahead, senses on full alert as shadows take shape in his sharp vision. A man lies on the ground, feebly trying to curl into himself despite the cordon of soldiers kicking and beating him from all sides. It still doesn’t make sense to Charles that the Netherlands has remained a neutral nation in the war even after being invaded and suffering Nazi occupation.

Seb sighs sadly. “Have they no basic decency?”

“For someone out past curfew, that looks more merciful than an interrogation chamber.” Charles replies. Even though they only roam the streets and countryside at night, whispers of the Dutch Resistance surround them – a thin thread of hope that still manages to hold the country together.

“Well, we won’t let that happen, either.” Seb says as he turns a confirming glance on Charles. “Shall we?”

Charles nods in helpless agreement. “I am a little hungry.”

They move together, swift as shadows and just as silent, just as deadly. Bones snap, blood warms their bellies, and screams die before they can begin. It never takes them long, and this time is no exception. It comes easier to Charles now – acting with aggression against the aggressors – but it’s still not his natural inclination.

Licking the blood from his lips, he glances down at the young man still curled up on the ground. His breathing comes in ragged, uneven draws – his chest rattles, even. The smell of rich, hot, dark blood permeates the air even above the scents of the dead soldiers, and the young man’s face is bruised and bloodied to match his expression of agony.

“H-h-help...” The words are just barely audible and laden with great effort.

Seb sighs with regret. “We’re not able to save you.”

Bright blue eyes flash beneath swollen eyelids, full of pain and fear. “No-o… please. I –” The Dutchman’s voice chokes off on a gurgling cough and blood flows past his lips.

Charles’ heart breaks as he stares down at the dying man. “I was wrong. There’s nothing merciful about this.” He crouches down and gently cups the man’s strong jawline, stroking his thumb over an angry cut, trying to impart any comfort that he can. Beneath the injuries and blood, the man is undeniably handsome with a strong, sturdy build. Maybe that’s why he’s still alive now. He’s a fighter… and maybe… just maybe that’s why he risked being outside after curfew.

The Dutchman’s breathing turns faint and wheezing, and Charles knows the window is closing. “I want to help him.” He says, turning to glance up at Seb.

Seb’s brows furrow curiously. “You want to help him…? Help him as in…"

Unease pits in Charles’ gut. “Turn him. Like you turned me.”

“He’s practically a dead man – you can smell it.” Seb shakes his head. “Mortals die all the time… you’ve seen it before.”

“And I haven’t asked to save a single one of the countless many that I have witnessed. I’m just asking…” he trails off, glancing back down, unable to explain why he’s so drawn to this man. “I’m just asking about this one.”

“You are still so young -”

“And I’ve gotten better with my thrall, with my control – even my finesse. I’m learning to let go of my ‘mortal construct’ as you call it, and now I’m asking you – will you help me with this?”

Seb folds his arms across his chest in silent contemplation as the Dutchman’s weak breathing wheezes between them. “Where do you think this will go, Charles? If you turn him, then what?”

Charles’ lip curls in a frustrated sneer. “Did you ask yourself that question before you ambushed me in the woods? Tell me, where did you think it would go with me, hmm?” He fixes Seb with a hard stare. “Or was I really just too pretty for you to resist?”

A tense moment hangs in the air before Seb drops his arms to his side. “We’ll have to guide him – you’ll have to teach him.”

Relief sparks in Charles’ chest. “Yes… yes, I can do that. And I will.” He turns back to the Dutchman, trailing down to the slope of his neck. His pulse weakly flutters beneath Charles’ fingertips, and Charles hopes he’s not too late.

Seb kneels beside him, curling his hand over the back of Charles’ as they gently trace over the main artery together. “Just there,” Seb whispers as Charles leans down, inhaling the Dutchman’s scent deep into his lungs as his lips buss the tender skin.

Charles’ fangs pierce the skin, and a delicious coppery tang rushes over his tongue as Seb softly continues. “And, now… just listen for the heart to stop.”

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