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#more jealousy
falling-endlessly · 3 months
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Boomerang (part 1)
Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader
Summary: When Vox proves incapable of cutting Valentino out of his sex life despite his many reassurances, you decide to break it off with him and leave for good. He doesn’t take it so well.
Just to be clear, reader is an artificial intelligence demon, looks super realistic and human-like, but is actually composed of nanotechnology. She was human once though, like all of the other sinners.
INSPIRED BY THIS POST
Part 2—> Chapter Index
"Y/n?" Charlie poked her head through your door. "There's uh, someone here to see you."
You narrowed your eyes, rising from your bed. A bone-weary sigh escaped you. It was obvious who your supposed "visitor" was. "Did you tell him I'm busy?"
Charlie pursed her lips, looking down. Great, so that meant he was throwing a temper tantrum. And she wanted you to sort him out.
"Alright, fine," you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I'm coming." She was generous enough to let you stay, after all. The least you could do was clean up your messes.
When you finally reached the main floor, Vox and Alastor looked about two seconds away from clawing each other's faces off. Cyan blue electricity was sparking along Vox's entire body, and Alastor's shadows curled dangerously behind him, ready to attack at his call.
Seeing him made a hot fury like no other claw its way up your throat. "What the fuck are you doing here?" You growled lowly, balling your fists at your sides.
At the sound of your voice, Vox immediately broke away from Alastor, a giant smile spreading across his screen. "Sweetheart! There you are!"
You stormed up to him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him harshly into a corner. You let go of him once you were sufficiently out of earshot of the others, crossing your arms and leveling him with a furious glare. "You have five seconds to explain yourself."
"Okay, let's just calm down for a second here," he chuckled, but it was an empty sound. "Is it really that weird for me to want to check up on you? After all, you kind of just disappeared," his smile strained.
"Has it ever occurred to you that the reason you couldn't find me was because I don't want to see you?" You smiled sardonically, patience running thin.
"Uh, what?" He laughed, but his smile was frozen. "Why would you not want to see me?"
That was the last fucking straw. "Are you that fucking delusional, Vox?" You snapped, poking him harshly in the chest. "When I said I was done, I meant it. This," you gestured between the two of you. "Is over. I'm done."
Vox twitched, electricity sparking off sporadically from his antennae. He stared at you in stunned silence, his breathing starting to pick up speed as he processed your words. His eyes searched your face for any sign that you were being untruthful, and when he found none, he glanced up at the small crowd of residents and staff gathered, only to lock eyes with a smug Alastor.
Vox's screen glitched, his features twisting in a rage. "So you're replacing me with the radio fucker now, is that it?"
"Oh, really?" You narrowed your eyes. "Just like you replaced me with Valentino?"
"That's different," Vox gritted out.
"Is it?"
"Yes, for one, Val isn't some archaic cannibalistic fucker with a vendetta against me!"
"Who has the vendetta against who here? Cause it seems like you're the one who can't let things go." You watched him splutter on his bullshit for a few seconds before you shook your head in exasperation, the pounding pressure increasing at your temples. "Alright, that's it, we're done here. Get out."
"Y/n," he narrowed his eyes. "You need to think about this."
"Oh I've had plenty of time to think," you grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to bare your teeth menacingly. "Now get out before I put a goddamn virus in your software Vox!" Your face pixelated from rage at the end of your sentence. You let him go with a harsh shove.
For a long moment nobody spoke, a tense silence blanketing over the two of you. You glared at him venomously, chest still heaving from your outburst. And him, he was looking at you like he'd never seen you before. Good, you thought spitefully. It's finally getting through to him.
Vox's mouth hardened into a thin line, his sharp claws nearly drawing blood from his palms. "Why here?"
You closed your eyes. "It’s not a forever thing. I just—I need to be away from everything for a little while, okay?" Everything that we've built together. Reminders of you. "No flashy shit, no fast life, no technology—"
"You're an A.I. model," he said dully.
"Yeah well, you win some you lose some," you sighed, rubbing at your temples. "Look, I don't want to say it again. Leave Vox, I'm serious."
For a hot second, it looked like you were ripping his entire world apart and stomping on the broken pieces, the way he looked at you so lost, before he hastily pulled himself back together. "Fine," he spat out. It sounded like it physically hurt him to say it.
He lifted his chin, adjusted his lapels, and stormed out of the hotel, slamming the door so hard it blew straight off of its hinges, blue sparks of electricity still sizzling from it.
For a few seconds, a thick tension suffocated the room, as everyone took the time to process the shit show they'd just witnessed.
"Well, that was fun!" Alastor's cheery voice punctuated the silence. You glared at him tiredly.
***
If you thought that he would give up like you so nicely asked, you were sadly mistaken.
Turned out it was just a pre-game warm up for this asshole.
At least thrice a week, he made sure to fuck up your peace somehow. Last time it was spray painting the entire hotel electric blue (how, you didn't even want to know). The time before that, it was trying to sneak some of his peeping gadgets in through the window. And the time before that, it was putting your name up on every billboard in the goddamn city with a red heart next to it.
Now, you stood incredulously in front of half of the hotel. As in, the other half was missing. Blown off by a fucking missile. You couldn't make this shit up if you tried.
"What the fuck is going on?" You gritted out, before taking a deep, calming breath.
Vox's electric laughter rang out from a speaker of unknown source. You turned angrily to face the open air.
"Pathetic," he jeered. "You still want to shack up with these losers, Y/n?"
You shook your head slowly, laughing in disbelief. "Wow," you said sarcastically. "You really showed us, didn't you? Feel better about yourself now?"
You punctuated your sentence with a glare, before turning and storming towards the remaining half of the building.
Vox watched you from twenty different angles across his screens. The moment you turned your back, his wide, toothy grin dropped, eyes squeezing shut. He slammed mute on his microphone.
“FUCK!” He banged a fist on the table, breathing heavily. It had been two weeks already, and you still hadn’t come back to him. He was getting desperate now.
A quick glance at the screen showed Alastor’s glitching picture. The radio bastard snapped his fingers with a raised brow, the missing half of the hotel repairing itself instantly.
“Fucking show off,” Vox growled raggedly.
He needed to change tactics. And fast.
***
Nothing. He had nothing.
No plans, no blueprints, no smart and suave moves to get you back.
Every scenario he ran through his head would inevitably end with you walking away from him. If only he could hypnotize you like with everyone else—but you were a tech demon, just like him. More advanced, even. Your firewalls were just too strong.
Vox poured himself another glass of scotch, solemnly glaring up at the ceiling in frustration.
A clawed hand clasped his shoulder, making him grit his teeth.
“You’re looking a little tense, Cariño,” Valentino purred, trailing his fingers up Vox’s neck. “I can help with that~”
Vox shrugged him off, annoyed. “Not in the mood, Val.”
But Valentino was undeterred. “Is this about Y/n?” He murmured, knowing he hit the nail on the head when the other demon tensed considerably. “What’s so special about that bitch anyway, hm? Is it the pussy? You know I’ve got whores lined up for you, baby. Just say the word and—”
“Fuck off, Val!” Vox exploded, electricity sparking in his eye. “I don’t want just any random bitch from the street, okay?! I want Y/n. I want her back,” he spat miserably.
Valentino went silent, his face twisting into a cruel expression. “Don’t you understand?” He growled. “She left you. Betrayed you. And she’s not coming back, ever. The sooner you see that and stop wasting your time, the better.”
He turned away, his heels clacking against the marble floors until the double doors swung closed behind him.
Vox let out a frustrated yell, arcs of electricity shooting out from him and shattering his expensive collection of drinking glasses to smithereens.
***
A tap sounded at your window, making you tense.
Slowly you approached it, generating a pistol from your nanotech and holding it tightly to your chest. You peered out of the blinds, only to find your ex dangling from the window sill.
“Holy shit!” You screeched, jumping back.
“A lil’ help?” he grinned lazily, reaching out for you. You grasped his hand, hauling him inside of your room.
The unmistakably pungent scent of alcohol invaded your senses, making your wrinkle your nose.
“Jesus fucking Christ, are you drunk?” You dragged a hand down your face.
“No,” he hiccuped, shaking his head vehemently, which caused him to lose balance. You grabbed his shoulders, righting him before he fell and broke his screen.
“Oh yeah,” his face lit up in realization, before he reached behind him, pulling out a bouquet of slightly squashed roses. “For you,” he slurred, offering them proudly.
You looked at them in exasperation, before taking them gently from his hands. Bringing them up to your face, you closed your eyes, sniffing them slightly. A sweet floral scent filled your senses as you regarded them.
“They’re pretty,” you remarked quietly.
“Yeah,” he grinned, your eyes flickering up to catch his. “But you’re prettier.” At your lack of reaction, his grin faltered, and he looked down.
“I…” he started, swaying slightly. “I’m sorry.”
You closed your eyes, shaking your head. “Don’t do this.”
“Please come home,” he continued, expression drooping sorrowfully. He clasped your hand, looking up at you pleadingly. “I’ll…I’ll do better, I promise.”
The ache in your heart grew almost unbearable the more you looked at him, so you averted your gaze. “Why don’t you ever say that when you’re sober?”
Vox let go of your hand, sliding down the wall until he landed on his ass. “Scared,” he mumbled.
You crouched down in front of him, lifting his hanging head from his arms. “Of what?” You said gently.
His eyes flickered up to yours, and the raw emotion nearly stole your breath away. “You still won’t want me.”
“Vox…” You closed your eyes, pained.
“Come home,” he whispered hollowly. “Please.”
“You know I can’t do that,” you said thickly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
He looked at you sadly, but resigned. “Yeah, I know,” he lowered his screen back into his arms. “…miss you,” he trailed off quietly, before soft whistling snores could be heard.
You dropped your face in your hands, breathing raggedly. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. You had almost fucking caved.
After a moment to compose yourself, you searched his pockets, pulling out his phone (he didn’t even change his password) and dialing a familiar number.
“What the fuck do you want now, Vox?” An irritated feminine voice answered the line.
“Velvette,” you said cooly. “I need a favor.”
****
Part 2 —> Chapter Index
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selineram3421 · 4 months
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здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора
Translated:
Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?
Yes.
Jealousy Headcanons
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Alastor X Reader
Warning! ⚠
⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠
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Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?
He always had your attention.
You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.
Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.
But now it was quite odd.
There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.
Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.
He watched from the bar.
"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.
"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"
Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.
"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.
Far too close for his liking.
"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."
He didn't like this demon.
Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-
"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.
The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.
"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.
It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.
"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"
"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.
"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.
That's ENOUGH!
He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.
"I believe they said no."
The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.
"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."
"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.
His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.
"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"
"The slut-"
SNAP
He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.
"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."
His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.
"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"
You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.
"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."
And then you gave him that lovely smile.
"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."
"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.
He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.
After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.
You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.
Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.
Just like he wanted
"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."
"I can't wait to see what you make this time."
Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.
Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.
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I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.
~Seline, the person.
Taglist@
@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?
ML for Alastor🎙
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Astarion Jealousy Part 2
The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.
CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers
~
It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 
He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.
Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 
All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 
But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 
It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 
On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.
He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”
Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 
Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”
Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 
“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”
“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”
He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 
“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”
“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”
His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”
It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."
“But-”
“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”
Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 
He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”
“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”
You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 
Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 
“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”
You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 
And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 
You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.
He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 
He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”
He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 
You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”
“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”
You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.
It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 
Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.
He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.
He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.
You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.
You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 
He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"
A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.
“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 
"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.
Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.
“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 
You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”
Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?
Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."
You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”
But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."
You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”
Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”
It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 
But what about your lives were normal?
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otaku553 · 10 months
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Thoughts on being aroace
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my first contribution to the dunmeshi fandom: Marcille lesbian jealousy
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morganbritton132 · 5 months
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Fan: *trying to film Corroded Coffin carrying their equipment in to a local show for their CC blog*
Steve: *trying to help by carrying Eddie’s guitar*
Eddie: Wow, that looks heavy. Need help? *grabs hold of Steve’s free hand and interlocks their fingers* Better?
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brookheimer · 11 months
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shiv was not being altruistic nor intellectually self-interested when she voted against kendall. that was pure raw visceral desperation to maintain some semblance of dignity that she felt kendall being ceo would shred her of. sometimes people do not act in other people’s best interests or their own best interests. sometimes people do the wrong thing for the wrong reasons just because it feels like the right, the only, thing to do. shiv could not let kendall be ceo. she just couldn’t. not because she wanted to sacrifice herself to “stop the cycle,” not because she made a calculation and decided tom was her best interest — because the thought of kendall being ceo and acting like That the rest of their lives when shiv earned that job, she fucking earned it, that was too much to fucking bear. watching him sit in dad’s chair, conduct that vote, grin with entitlement and cockiness and certainty — seeing that elicited a visceral painful all-consuming sensation not dissimilar to overwhelming nausea that, summed up in two words, would simply be: fuck. no. she couldn’t live with that. she just couldn’t. it’s not kind. it’s not smart. it’s just human. painfully, destructively human. because sometimes, that’s all there is to it. not just for shiv, but for everyone. god knows roman and kendall have had those same feelings, made those same self-destructing yet necessary-feeling decisions throughout the show. why does it have to be different for shiv? why can’t she be painfully destructively human, prone to impulsive ill-conceived viscerally felt actions, like everyone else? why are we incapable of allotting her the same nuance and humanity (the good and the bad), the same trauma-informed self-destructive life-ruining hamartias, as we do her brothers? why can’t we fit a whole woman in our heads?
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eurydicees · 2 months
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*eye twitching* so happy for everyone in a movie theater in japan right now *fists clenched* i’m so happy for them *gritted teeth* so fucking happy and not at all seething with jealousy *muffled screaming as i bite down into my arm* so fucking happy
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athenagranted · 19 days
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the way i would pay for oliver to write meta about buck's character
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babydarkstar · 4 months
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i just. i just…FUCK. i just really want harrowhark to go sicko mode when she realizes john has the power to resurrect whoever he wants he just chooses not to and even after learning about his own blood daughter he still doesn’t resurrect her he just makes her a construct. i would be alecto-levels of grief-stricken-enraged if my childhood nemesis/guard dog/whipping girl/codependent lesbian situationship that i lobotomized over/suicide-pact soulmate/only friend was suddenly here but not here haunting her own dead body and the only reason she’s present is because she was made into a fascist killing machine for a man with a power kink, and she’s not even happy about it but she’s going through the motions because all she knows of love is to be useful. (forever your sword.) and if i was harrow and i died and then came back to myself after switching bodies with the human cage holding the earth’s soul and realized all of this, i think i too would be accompanying the earth’s soul on her shoulder to go kill a man with eclipse-eyes and criminal levels of nonchalance. y’know. the one who guarded g1deon but not me, lord. the one who was so sure i had never seen that which lies insensate and with stilled mind, lord, who did not realize i was a lock and there was a key in the shape of a girl, lord. the one who looked me dead in the eye and told me i could never have my cavalier back, lord. the cavalier who came back haunted and empty and incomplete by your hand, lord.
i’m so team ‘harrowhark saves gideon for real this time not because she wants her cav but because she wants her other half’ i might lose my mind about it
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honeydewsblue · 2 months
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( gojo and paparazzi ) — alternatively: this with gojo 💀…
╰┄➤ 1.1 k wc, reader n gojo are obsessed and in love with each other, jealousy, not proofread i’m too incapacitated (sleep deprived)
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satoru has a sort of unearthly beauty to him, you think that much is a sort of fundamental truth. an axiom. he's a frustratingly attractive man, in spite of his piss poor personality and the uncanny features he possesses. he’s got white hair and blue eyes and height that makes him almost as tall as his ego; there is nothing about him that is anything short of unnatural.
satoru is unnaturally pretty—and unfairly so, too. he knows it. how could he not, when anyone who has the ability to see makes a point of acknowledging it? whether it's through envious glares or wanting stares, or by being awestruck at the sight of someone who doesn't look like he belongs amongst humans (if only they knew how right they were), people notice him. not as if he needs that to know his worth. in the back of your head, you can hear his raucous laugh at the prospect of being in any way dependent on something so insignificant; on anything at all. you think i give a shit about them?
(still, you know he thrives off of it, off of the attention—being the attention whore that he is.)
the point is, it’s obvious that people can see satoru’s beauty.
especially now, you think, when you watch women your age fawn and giggle to each other over him—watch as they snap pictures and take videos of him. it’s almost pious, the way they try to capture him in film.
yes, an agreeing hum rolls in your throat, it is a universal truth that he is beautiful. unnaturally so. but you really wish people could just be normal, and refrain from being so indecent as to film strangers on the street.
it's not the first time it's happened—the farthest thing from it. unfortunately, you know it's even farther from being the last time, too. satoru's always been a sort of spectacle, one way or the other; in his power, his skills, his looks... he's watched by everyone. he is someone to serve witness to. that, too, is a fundamental truth.
though you know this, an ugly little feeling crawls in your gut while you watch the scene play out in front of you. most of it a sense of disgust, given the impression of how out of touch people are—but, a smaller, yet even uglier, part of it is a little possessive.
that smaller, uglier part feels a little offended at the fact that they’re being so blatantly disrespectful in front of you. that smaller, uglier part feels a little humiliated.
it’s a familiar sight, something you’ve seen happen time and time again, but this is the first time you’ve taken it as an insult—the first time you’ve taken it so personally, the first time you’ve felt it. the first time you’ve felt your dignity being prodded at, like there’s a blazed red rod poking and poking, urging that burning feeling in your gut to grow hotter and hotter. it’s an invasive thing, this hot, rushing feeling.
it isn’t personal. you know that. it shouldn’t be personal, but…
when you meet satoru in the middle, your fingers slip under the collar of his dress shirt. your nails drag taut at the crisp linen like an assertion and you pull him towards you, swift as you press your lips against his. you can feel the hesitation, the fleeting shock against them—that sharp, nearly imperceptible gasp skipping across teeth—but it barely lasts half a second before he’s the one kissing you. that small, uglier little part of you hopes that their little camera captured the picture of you kissing him.
you keep your heavy eyes cracked open, capturing it for yourself.
his hand finds its way to your lower back easily, like a puzzle piece fitting into its slots, holding you close to him; securing you. his hand is weighted on your back in a way that grounds you, but gentle as his fingers skim across your the fabric of your shirt. heavy and gentle like he’s trying to get to the skin underneath. heavy and gentle, like the way he looks at you, eyes skimming across your face—your eyes, to your lips, your cheeks, your eyes again. heavy and gentle, like worship. he wets his lips, swallows. “what was that about?”
he likes the look you have in your eyes, likes the way they mirror his own.
(you see him like how he sees the world, like something all encompassing. he likes that he can see you, only you, with this overwhelming sort of clarity. he likes that he sees you the way you see the world—the tunnel vision of it all. your attention is the only one he really wants for. the only one really he needs.
if you told him he was dependent on you, he’s not sure he’d have it in him to laugh it off.)
you cast a dirty, sidelong glance at where you feel two pairs of eyes burning holes at the both of you; poking and poking.
(and satoru thinks you look awfully pretty right now, your eyes glaring and lidded, your lashes contouring the sharp and narrowed look you bear. awfully, unearthly pretty, and so very familiar in a way that makes him crave you, makes him want to immortalize you in his skin. it’s instinctual, the way he gravitates to you, minty breath ghosting your cheek.)
they’re borderline gawking at the two of you until one of them smacks at the other's arm not-so-inconspicuously, and they shuffle off to the sidewalk, whispering to each other yet again. it’s only then that satoru follows your line of sight. when it clicks, he looks back at you far too eagerly for your comfort.
“oh,” he drawls, his stupid pretty teeth bearing themselves in the stupid, obnoxious grin that spreads across his lips. “that’s what it was?”
the idea of you being so possessive makes his stomach flip.
“baby, are you jealous?” he looks awfully happy about it, blue eyes gleaming at you with an unabashed sort of mirth. even when he finds himself being on other end of that glare of yours, his dimples only get deeper.
“you’re worse than me,” you hum. you don’t admit it, but you don’t deny it—you can’t. maybe you’re spending too much time with him.
oh. goosebumps break out against your skin at the thought of picking up his behavior, a little horrified at the thought of coming off as obtrusive as him. you shrug it off, shaking your head. “doesn’t matter,” you say airily, glancing at him, “you’re mine.”
you definitely spend too much time with him, if your aloof nonanswers and attitude attest to anything.
when your eyes meet his, you think that he sees it too. there’s a certain look in his eyes, the way they widen a fraction like he’s trying to commit you to memory—as if he hasn’t already. you know it’s probably just from the dark of night, but his pupils are wide and that revered and blessed blue he bears is reduced to a ring. right now, his eyes are consuming. you think you can see yourself in them.
(and, he does—he does see it. with his eyes, he sees little bits of himself transfused with you and it’s the most satisfying feeling he’s ever gotten in his life.)
he only smiles at you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your temple, his words spoken against your skin. “that’s right, baby.”
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thank you for reading, feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 🤍!!
a/n. i haven’t posted anything in so long so i cranked this out… i really wanted to post something and that video thankfully gave me a lil idea hehe :’-) i hope it doesn’t seem too rushed <3
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anon-402 · 3 months
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you, tsundere fuck-
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 11 months
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Remembrance and Forgetfulness
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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grimesgirll · 7 days
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rickyl x reader but with rare jealous!daryl
daryl shouldn’t be seething at the sight of rick’s head in your lap.
there’s no reason at all he should be thinkin’ about skinning his best friend. it’s jealousy at its finest.
he can hear merle now, taunting him. he wonders if his brother would call him a “fuckin’ pansy” or a “pussy” first. fuming inwardly all by himself on his recliner. the piece of furniture begins to feel like an island. it’s even worse imagining he’s just watching you and rick.
once upon a time, daryl got a kick out of seeing you get those pretty, big brain thoughts fucked out of your head for just a moment while rick splits you open. there’s something in seein’ you all fucked out, thinking about fueling the fire between your legs only. the legs that daryl often threw over his shoulders, diving tongue first in your paradisal cunt. that would be before rick rolled his way in and insisted he be the first to stuff your tight, yearn slick pussy.
merle would rag on him for that.
“aw, poor cucked, fuck,” he’d try to stifle his laugh but end up roaring in laughter.
daryl does the same thing he did when his brother was alive and ignores the thought. the thought of you can’t be banished from his head though.
no, not when you’re running your hands through rick’s hair and looking down at him, lips moving in sweet muted conversation that daryl is too green to comprehend. he’s feeling selfish now and wishing you two could go somewhere alone.
moments alone with you hit different now. they’re rare but they exist.
like after he and rick spend the better half of the night taking you apart from the inside out, and you and him sneak out to the porch for a cigarette once rick’s fallen asleep.
sometimes daryl thinks rick sleeps worse than judith - the sheriff is basically an insomniac without you. you’re the miracle cure for the horror induced nightmares. it’s like a good spooning with you clears his head, but daryl can’t really fault rick for that. he does however absolutely loathe the sixth sense the constable has for when you’ve strayed away from his arms in the night.
the man’s head is swimming at the thought of you in his arms when there’s a knock at the door.
your glinting eyes are rolling but you’re calling out for your guest to, “come in!” rick’s scowl couldn’t be larger but he fixes his face once maggie comes into view.
maggie looks between you and rick, even sparing a glance at daryl before attempting to stifle a laugh and clearing her throat. “i’m sorry to interrupt, but deanna needs you at her house to discuss important matters.”
you feel rick tense beneath you. barely able to contain your own pouts, you gaze back up at rick and he takes that as his signal to connect your lips one last time. shining under the living room ceiling lights, the two of you mash wantonly wetted lips. lost in each other, you don’t feel the pissed off red rock across the room.
finally breaking apart, you whine and rick almost scolds you, wondering if you have any respect for maggie’s image of you. when he glimpses over your shoulder and catches sight of maggie’s grin, he’s smirking. daryl wants to go out into the woods and shoot something.
“well, duty calls.”
rick’s rolling you off of him, leaving you with another breathless kiss and nodding daryl’s way.
daryl struggles to maintain a cordial face. this doesn’t go unnoticed by rick, who would’ve asked what was up with his typically mellow friend had he more time. the younger man’s more than relieved to see rick and maggie meandering out the door.
“dare’.”
damn, he almost forgot about you.
blue irises meet your dilated centers. the darkened, passion cast pupils beckon him to resume where rick had left off. a hand pats the patterned sofa.
that stirs him from his moodiness - slightly.
you’re assuming your position in his lap once his ass hits the cushion. hands gently wring around his neck until you’re sat firmly on top of him, gaze unmistakable.
“what’s goin’ on with you?”
startled, his breath hitches in his throat. his adam’s apple throbbing uncomfortably peaks your attention. you frown at him until his pink lips move slowly.;
“i feel like i haven’t even seen you lately, baby. and we live in the same fuckin’ house.”
your face falls at the words. “really?” you ask, wanting him to go on. the distraught look painting your typically sunny face has him not wanting to, but he does because you asked.
“you’re always on him, he’s on you. you touch me too and i know you love me. i know you like goin’ out in the woods with me but you feel so fuckin’ far away when you’re right there.”
“i’m so sorry, dare’.”
he’s quick to stop you. “it’s not your fault, baby, it’s not rick’s either-,”
“-no!” you interject, grinding down onto him by accident, eliciting a groan from him which you quickly apologize for.
daryl slaps your fleece covered ass lightly. “don’t apologize for being fuckin’ hot, baby.”
you giggle, leaning down to kiss him. he’s slowly but surely fading into this fairytale kiss you’re bestowing upon him until he hears another apology on your lips.
“baby, it’s okay.”
“no, it’s not.” you’re almost in tears now. puffy lips quake and purse. “you should never feel that way.”
“it’s fine, hon’, i feel better just telling you, an’ gettin’ it off my chest.” he assures you, playing with the top of your fleece shorts.
your eyes trail down to the drawstring of your shorts, and you wipe away a tear, revealing a yearning smile.
“would this help?”
daryl suddenly rolls into you, pelvis pistoning against the pillowy fabric of your shorts. he shrugs. “i don’t know.” he grunts. “maybe.”
you laugh. angling your hips, you dial up the pressure you’re coasting against beneath you when you come closer. daryl straightens to meet you for a kiss, succumbing to you, immersed until you whisper against him, “c’mon, i wanna feel you inside of me.”
daryl raises an eyebrow. “baby, i haven’t stretched you out.”
you shake your head, laughing. “you and rick already took care of that last night. you could stop fucking me for three days and as long as i’m wet-,” you get a blushed out look on your face. “-which isn’t hard around here.”
your lover’s face turns cocky. “you like being ready after being stretched out by two cocks?” pride laces his question. rick could irk him but he did love sharing you with his best friend more than anything.
that pretty little head nods up and down like it’s obvious.
“you gonna take me out and sit on me, baby?”
you’re nodding even more obediently now. falling into the instructions that have your pretty little clit swelling beneath your bottoms. that sends your hands racing to tug down daryl’s jeans, circling your hips as well to quickly spare a hand and work down your shorts. the sight has daryl straining.
“don’t make me wait, you know i can’t,” he complains with a kiss to your neck.
“mhmm,” you hum in agreement and tug down the waistband of his underwear, allowing him to help you with your peach pantone panties.
you involuntarily lick your lips upon seeing his gorgeous cock. the gigantic head primarily has your attention. has it always looked this big? you wonder. you want to take it into your mouth but the urge to give daryl that comfort he deserves has you hovering your already slick pussy above his hardened cock.
all at once, you let your hips descend and the first inch or so of daryl disappears inside of you.
“damn, girl.” the sensation has him crooning and singing your praise as you waste no time rocking up and down to develop that sloppy wetness on him - like you’re greasin’ a fuckin’ pole.
“mhm,” you whine. daryl’s awestruck face, scrunched from how tight you are despite your words, suddenly clears any stress or unease. he’s loving this, you remind yourself. an idea fills your head and before you know it, your begging for a hickey.
“huh?”
“a hickey!” you groan, bouncing with your hands firmly on his chest.
“then c’mere, baby,” and daryl’s clutching you down towards him as soon as you lean in. “i’ll mark you up however you want.” those thoughtful lips imprint into your skin immediately.
you gasp and wriggle against his loving mouth. he feels so wonderful, playfully bruising you with light scrapes of teeth and a roving tongue so well that your thought almost gets fucked out of you.
“want you to mark me up for when rick gets home,” you tell him, panting and squirming with pleasure on top of him.
length brushing against your walls which are flush against him like quicksand, those words are dangerous. he does his best not to fuckin’ jackhammer you to oblivion just at the thought of rick comin’ home to you all purple from daryl’s mouth - the mouth that was already obsessed with your pretty girl clit and taking a vacation between your legs.
“yes, whatever you want, baby.”
“ah!”
you’re not ready for the bite that isn’t as light as you’d expected.
“so tight on me.” daryl chuckles, suckling on the sensitive skin. “felt you clenchin’ like you’re ready, baby girl.”
“does my pussy feel good? squeezin’ you?” you ask, eyelashes fluttering.
daryl almost finished in you right then and there.
“course it does.” he replies without missing a beat. “what kind of question is that?”
the answer and the pace daryl is adopting has you seeing stars. heat is what you plunge into as you slide up and down on daryl. he’s dragging you up and down against him, hands burying fingernail marks in your soft hips while he fucks up into you and worships your shoulder.
the bite to your shoulder is what sends you tumbling into the tirade of pleasure that’s your orgasm.
on the living room sofa, you gasp and cry, tears falling into daryl’s hair as he takes a tit into his mouth, biting down. it’s a soft graze of cautious teeth but you yelp, startled by the pleasure and the spurting of warm come in your tight little cunt.
foreheads bowed against each other’s, you both find a rhythm in your breath - and each other’s lips again.
it’s when you and your lover are unsurprisingly making out again, once you take just a moment to breathe and pull apart, the question’s blurting from your lips;
“you know i love both of you, right?”
daryl softens beneath you. the hands on your waist rub languid, lazy patterns as daryl nods at you. “i do, baby.”
the twinge of a smile is on your lips until you’re suddenly remembering how you got to asking that question and straddling your dare’ like this in the first place. “but you shouldn’t feel that way.”
daryl’s shaking his head, ready to tell you that it’s fine, he’s fine but then you’re saying;
“how could i ever make it up to you, dare?’”
a million possibilities filter through his mind at once. there really isn’t an apology he won’t accept from you.
“how about a hunting trip? just the two of us.”
“i love your mind, baby.” he grunts, bucking up into you with that seemingly impatient, girthy rod.
you giggle in triumph, letting a pretty grin overtake your face. “alright now, back to where we were, huh?” you bear down to capture daryl’s mouth in a kiss, tonguing your way inside for just a brief moment before parting lips. “rick will be back from watch in an hour. how many hickies do you think you can give me before then?”
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batty4steddie · 2 months
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Steve began to feel a little jealous of Eddie’s hair after he started using Steve’s shampoo. Eddie’s curls were already beautiful, but now they were more defined. They were bouncy, buttery soft and shinier than ever.  Steve loved to bury his nose in them when he kissed Eddie’s head in the morning—and again at night before he fell asleep. He also didn’t mind when Eddie used his lap as a pillow. Steve would run his fingers through them mindlessly while they watched TV, ruffling Eddie’s bangs every now and then. Steve spent half the time looking down at Eddie instead of whatever they were watching. Eddie was so pretty. Steve found himself saying that out loud more often than just thinking it. Eddie’s reaction was almost always the same: he would scrunch up his nose, his cheeks would flush the nicest, rosiest shade that complimented his skin tone, and he would argue that Steve was much better looking than he was, so Steve doubled down. “It’s true, Eds. You’d think people would’ve called you ‘The Hair’.”
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haunted-xander · 20 days
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Do you think Saix' emotional co-dependence started as a Nobody or did it start as human Isa and just grew to an unhealthy degree?
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