#I just find this moment so interesting like out of all the moments he’s had with Yoshiki this is the one he thinks of

[love-byers]

i am afraid no one gets him like i do. yes he's a whore slut rake boy but he's also not

colin may need to occasionally go to horny jail but what he really yearns for is love and connection. he has always yearned for it. sex is good but sex on its own is not fulfilling to him. marina broke his heart, he truly wanted to care for her and love her and be loved. even before he fell for penelope he wrote about his sexual encounters so beautifully unlike any man of that era ever would. after a while he lost interest in it because it lacked something, love and genuine connection. he's a romantic people!!! he's a hopeless romantic trying to be a flirtatious bachelor, and it's a facade he can't keep up! he's a writer, a dreamer, he wants something pure and true. at the gentleman's club he says something i find so beautiful and pure, he questions why men must act nonchalant about their sex life when it is one of the only things in life with true meaning. and he gets LAUGHED AT!!! the part of the carriage scene where pen strokes his face and hair and he completely melts into her touch is, don't get me wrong, HOT!!!!! but it was even sweeter to me because it's not just that he is so horny for penelope he can't stand it anymore, but he is getting what he's yearned for. the connection, the touch that means something. the touch that carries love with it. this is also why the dream and kiss with pen got him so down bad. he unexpectedly felt something he had been yearning and searching for maybe without realizing it, love and connection! and once pen accepts his confession, he is head over heels in love obsessed and ready to marry her.

what lady whistledown wrote about him not being his true self really embodies his arc this season. colin in earlier seasons was acknowledged as having never been to a brothel and not being this all knowing sex god he pretends to be in 3. who colin truly is is someone who wants his sexual encounters to mean something, who sees sex as a moment of connection between two people rather than just pleasure. for that time, that was pretty beautiful.

and also the fact that when he's with the sex workers they are the ones all over him pleasing him, but with penelope he is pleasing her. he yearns for love, to feel and give love, not just to receive it.

COLIN BRIDGERTON GET BEHIND ME I WILL PROTECT YOU

(this is directed at people mostly on tiktok who watched the show with their eyes closed complaining about how they wanted colin to be a virgin and hate that they made him sexually experienced & a man whore KEEP MY SONS NAME OUT YO MOTHAFUCKING MOUTH)

#bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin

[bby-deerling]

Hc about the boys Law, Zoro and Kid catching you using a sextoy 😎😉🥰🙏

based request :D using this to get me back into the groove of writing smut after a brief break

catching you with your sex toy (nsfw)

ft. zoro, kid, law

masterlist

cw: sex toys, sanji being sanji, masturbation, rough sex, brat taming, snail phone sex

tagging: @willowbelle @eelnoise @sanjisprincesswifey @fanaticsnail @indydonuts

zoro

the last thing you expect when you enter your room is to find zoro there with your clit sucker in hand, but now that you've stumbled upon the sight, you're rendered speechless as you slam the door and lock it, trying to cobble together something to say to him.

"the cook said you had something interesting in your drawer. i thought he was just stealing your panties again, but i found whatever the hell this thing is instead." he says as he stares at it, brows knitted in confusion.

a flash of anger flows through you rapidly at the knowledge that sanji was rifling through your drawer again, but you feel a sense of relief knowing that zoro seemingly doesn't know what your toy is.

and then he shatters any sense of the comfort that you were regaining with a single sentence.

"do i not make you feel good enough?" he asks, though it seems to come more so from a place of curiosity than one of insecurity.

flustered, you shake your head with fervor. "i've had that for a long time, like since before i even joined the crew. i haven't used it in forever—" you say with a blush, though your words are cut off as he presses the button to turn it on and gives you a smirk.

"tell you what, i'm gonna make you cum with this thing, and then with my mouth, and you tell me which feels better." he says, tilting his head to urge you towards the bed.

though the toy gets you off quicker, zoro isn't surprised when you tell him his tongue feels far better when he unravels you. after all, he knows your body like the back of his hand, and all that training he does with his mouth has the added bonus of paying off during moments like these.

kid

you feel like you've been caught with your hand in a cookie jar when kid walks into his room and finds you grinding against the vibrating saddle he's made you, your cheeks flushed and lips parted in ecstasy. the laugh he gives you is full of mirth, but you know you're in for it now, severely.

"you think you're too good to obey the rules, huh, princess?" he asks with a toothy smirk as he approaches, flicking the switch on your toy to turn the vibration off. "you know you're only allowed to use your toys with me."

turning as bright red as his hair, you swallow hard as you collect your words; you were already in for a punishment, so you figured you might as well up the ante and bruise his ego a bit—after all, it'd be a win for you in the end as he takes his frustration out on your sloppy, wet pussy. "if you weren't so busy all the time, i wouldn't have to get myself off." you shoot back, holding your chin high to try to convey some form of confidence as he towers over you. with ease, he grabs you by the waist and tosses you face first into the mattress, harshly grabbing at your hips and pulling them towards him.

"you're gonna take this cock so hard you're not gonna be able to even think about your stupid toys for a couple weeks." he growls as he sheathes himself inside of you. normally the friction would have burned, but you were so wet from grinding against the saddle that his thick length slides right in with ease, making you yelp as he fills you to the brim.

"i'm gonna fuck you stupid, you fucking brat." he grumbles under his breath as he slams into you, the fingers on his metal hand vibrating against your clit as you squirm in his grasp.

law

though the rest of your crew is having a bonfire outside, you can't help but hide away in the polar tang for a little while. you've missed law so terribly over these past couple of months, and your own scent has overpowered his in your shared room; however, law's office is the one place where his presence still lingers.

and it's pathetic, the way you use your rabbit toy with your face buried into the throw pillow on his couch, the blanket over top of you poorly simulating the warmth of his chest against your back. you're so unbearably close as you daydream about his hands kneading at the flesh of your hips, letting out a soft whine until the sound of the snail phone ringing sends shock and adrenaline coursing through your body. turning your toy off, you keep it inside of you as you wrap the blanket around you and sit in law's chair before picking up the receiver.

"hello?" you ask, your voice soft and hesitant as you hope you're not met with a marine's voice on the other end.

"hey. it's me. i'm calling from the thousand sunny." law replies, making your heart and stomach flip with delight and relief with the confirmation that he's okay.

"thank god—when will you be back?" you ask excitedly, spinning around in the chair with glee.

"in around three days or so. are the others around?" law says, a bit confused as to why he hadn't heard bepo crying tears of joy through the receiver yet.

"they're all outside having a cookout." you inform him, smoothing your hair out as you stare at the snail, unable to hide your smile; it felt like a hallucination, hearing his deep, raspy voice after being apart for so long.

"how come you're not with them?" he asks with a bit of concern, though he picks up on exactly what your needy body was up to when you reply to him.

"i was, but i came back to the submarine to... take care of something." you say with a blush, hoping the snail on the other end failed to mimic the blatantly guilty expression on your face.

law's chuckle through the phone tells he's picked up on what you've been doing, and you take a sharp inhale as he teases you. "tch, you really miss me that much?" he asks, the lips of his snail curling into a devilish smirk. "let's hear it then. don't hold back." he murmurs as you hear a door slam and lock behind him.

obediently, you turn your toy back on and whimper softly as his low voice tells you all the filthy things he plans to do to you the second you two are alone together.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #law x reader #zoro x reader #law x you #zoro x you #trafalgar law smut #roronoa zoro smut #eustass kid smut #one piece smut #one piece drabble #one piece headcanons #one piece scenario

[deathbxnny]

hello, aventurine blade and jing yuan with a teen reader thats like lynette from gi? (please do include lynette‘s backstory as well) :3

Hello there, Anon!! Thank you for the request, and I hope you'll like it!<33

Content: Platonic relationships, vague non-descriptive mentions of past child abuse/kidnapping, reader is a young teen, characters are older brother/father figures, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》AVENTURINE

You and Aventurine found a lot of similarities in eachothers pasts, mainly because you knew how it felt like to suffer at the hands of greedy nobles. He saw a younger him in you, which made him initially, therefore, take you in when you first arrived in the IPC. You were quiet and extremely reserved at the beginning, which he respected in his own slightly teasing way.

He knew his patience eventually paid off when you'd ask him to join you for some tea, where you'd open up about your favorite books or interests. He'd calmly listen to you whilst enjoying that rare moment of relaxation you gave him.

He definitely also teaches you card tricks once he finds out about your little magician's assistant gig you had going on. Aventurine finds a sense of pride in watching you master new skills taught by him, as he silently wonders if all he does for you is enough to set you on the path of having a good life one day. Even if it is one without him around to guide you anymore.

》JING YUAN

Jing Yuan doesn't pry about your past more than what was necessary. You were brought to him after you killed the noble that had abused you, and at the sight of your rather young age, he decided that taking you in was a good idea. He didn't mind how cold and reserved you were to him, he was a patient man and had all the time in the world for you.

He eventually began inviting you for tea, where you'd play chess together and speak about topics he slowly found out you were perhaps into. Jing Yuan also definitely made you hang out with Yanqing as well, figuring that having someone of your age around would be helpful. And despite both of you being annoyed by it at first, you two grew to be a very strong team together.

The general makes sure you know that you can always rely on him if your past haunts you. He's not going anywhere and neither are you.

(He definitely also pats your head often, unable to hide his secret cuteness aggression from how adorable your cat ears and tail was. He finds your deadpans funny.)

》BLADE

Blade didn't care about where you were from or what made you end up joining the Stellaron hunters in the first place. You were uninteresting, just another kid with a dark past... until you were assigned to work for him, and he therefore became somewhat of your caretaker. Neither of you was thrilled, but you learned to move on and deal with it slowly. Your past was only brought up once, and despite being seemingly indifferent to it, Blade was somewhat impressed by how you were still able to be so calm and collected after all of it. It made him somewhat... easier on you.

As time went on, both of you grew closer as mentor and student in a way, both of you knowing that you can rely on the other when things got bad. He kept your back clear, and you kept his clear. That was the silent deal you struck. Blade definitely trained you to become a master assassin as well, figuring that you'd need it if you wanted to survive in this world. He didn't care if he had to be a bit sterner or even colder, but he knew you'd thank him one day.

Eventually, life would make you part ways one way or another. Whether it was through him finally being relieved of his cursed burdens or you moving on from him as a mentor, he knew it would come to an end. But until then, he figured your company wasn't too bad, as he simply decided to keep being your teacher until fate said otherwise.

Alrighttt!! I'm sorry this took so long, but as everyone knows, life sucks. Anyhow, I hope this was okay, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!<33

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail fanfic #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr #hsr jing yuan #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr blade #hsr blade x reader #hsr aventurine #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #blade #aventurine #jing yuan #star rail

[inkyray]

neighbor!chris x reader, part 6

a/n; this one isnt a text messages one i knowww, but whatevs. part 5 here

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You

Your feet buried themselves into the sand as you sat against the laid towel, the warm sun casting gentle rays on your skin as you leaned back on your elbows, fluttering your eyes shut to the feeling.

The sun was about to set and you had just made it to the beach, your day long and time dreadfully consuming. It felt as if the day had refused to end, yet it was only 6 in the evening. The entire tiresome day had you painstakingly eager for the clock to hit evening so you could change into your swimsuit and continue the rest of your day by the sea.

To your surprise, not many people were here. Many other days you'd drive by the beaches of LA and see them undeniably crowded. But now, being what was considered late for a day at the beach on a Thursday, barely anyone was here but a few people.

You sat on the farthest corner, away from most people as the scent of sea-weed flew past your hair due to the wind.

Chris had promised to be there, tagging along with you for a little hang out at the beach. He had already canceled on you the day before, but you had understood then. Apparently his brothers weren't coming, too busy doing influencer shit they were backed up on. You were disappointed, but still looked forward to seeing him. He had peaked your interest the most out of his brothers, and he took notice of that.

You open your eyes, checking the time on your phone. 10 minutes late, no big deal, you thought. But you wanted to get in the water before the sun had fully set. You shoot him a quick impatient text, urging him to hurry up with a series of creative curse words.

You're left on delivered, and with an annoyed sigh, you get up and head toward the water. Maybe by the time you're out of the water he could be here.

Stepping past the burning hot sand and cleansing it with the coldness of the tidal shore, you begin walking into the water, quickly swimming instead.

The waves pushed against you as you dipped your head under the water, trying to get your body temperature to blend with the ocean. It worked, and in seconds, you were at peace. The ocean being exactly what you had needed.

You swam, stopping every so often to dive beneath a large wave, quickly losing track of how far you were getting from the shore. Your heart had always belonged to the sea, and it hurt you that you took this log to finally get around to swimming in this one. But to your defense, everything had been a lot on you. You managed to keep yourself together but you still felt yourself cracking, and soon you would burst.

The ocean took that feeling away from you. If it wasn't for the ocean, it would be for the stupid conversations you'd have with Chris. But you would never utter that out loud.

Chris

All he had been thinking about was the day he had promised to spend with you. He woke up thinking about you, peeking out of his window to see your bed neatly made, already up and gone for work.

That's how the routine went, you would fall asleep early, every time forgetting to close your blinds, as Chris would follow in hours after. But then you'd wake up to your alarm clock that Chris swears he could hear through his window at times, and you would see him peacefully asleep.

Today has been crammed up for him, the moment he woke up he needed to sign a contract and stay in meetings that lasted hours, not a single second of the time spent was he not thinking about you.

He didn't like to admit it, but he found you entertaining. Intriguing, even. He knew there was more to you than your unhinged humor, and he wanted to find out more. At first, he couldn't stand you. Truly. Now, he only acts like he still can't stand you, yet he still darts his gaze to his phone every time a notification pumps through, every part of his body wishing it was your notification instead. If not for that, he'd watch you struggle to bring in groceries or scan his eyes past your house as Matt would drive him home.

He'd re-use your jokes in videos, which you had no clue about, since you didn't particularly watch your neighbors content on a regular basis, and he owes you for it. Some of his best jokes that went viral were your jokes that he stole, but no one needed to know that.

"What, Nick?" Chris groans in response to his brother's call, walking out of the kitchen. He hadn't had a single minute for himself, he had been working since the moment he opened his eyes. Needless to say he was tired.

"I forgot we need to film a video today! Get in the car!" Nick calls out from the garage. "Are you serious?" Chris whined, opening his phone to check the time. It was 6:10 PM, nervousness pulsed through him as he thought of you. "Can't we just film a little later on?" He sipped from his soda at hand.

"No, I'll forget and videos take me years to fucking edit. This has to be up by tomorrow." Nick said and Matt started the car, rubbing his eyes as Chris made his way into the passenger seat. "I have somewhere to be, you know." He jumped his knee up and down as Matt pulled out of the driveway, Chris's gaze on your house completely.

He fixed his eyes on the corner of the house your room stayed in. "Yeah, we know, kid. We'll just finish this video really quickly and you could get going." Matt says.

They didn't exactly know that Chris had been going to meet up with you at the beach. You had invited them, sure, but they had just collectively assumed they all declined due to a tight schedule. All but Chris, he desperately wanted to make this work. Now, all his brothers know is that he's going to meet up with a friend.

Chris's phone lit open, and he saw a notification of your contact push through before his phone shut off inevitably. He furrowed his eyebrows, spamming his power button to have it open again, just for him to realize his phone had died. 

"Fuckin' great." Chris muttered, annoyed, throwing his phone back on the seat holder between him and Matt, not caring for the possible damages it could've done. "What the fuck is your problem?" Nick immediately interjected as Matt made a right, ignoring them both. He was equally having a long day, and wasn't in the mood for either of their bullshit.

"I didn't even look in your direction, Nick. Shut the fuck up." Chris huffed, fixing his seatbelt that now all of a sudden felt too tight on his body, shifting under it. "Excuse me? I'm sorry princess, I just wanted to know what your fucking problem was." His brother in the backseat mocked.

Not being fond of his tone, Chris instinctively reached a hand behind him to smack Nick, to which Nick blocked with an immediate slap back. "Don't fuckin' touch me." He lifted a pointed finger at him, to which Chris gave him a look of warning before turning his head to look back on the road.

"Yeah, you guys better fucking stop, we're on the road." Matt said as he stopped at a red light, his voice so monotone you could swear he didn't give a fuck.

"Shut the fuck up, Miserable Matt." Chris rolled his eyes, not realizing how much not being able to see your message was taking effect on his mood.

"I'm Miserable Matt? You're the one who randomly started acting like you'd rather be in hell than here." Matt argued back, keeping his eyes on the road.

By the time they made it to the parking lot, neither of them could stand each other. The tension was expeditiously high and they just wanted this to be over with. Chris kept asking what time it was throughout the entire video, which led to Nick getting annoyed. They couldn't stay on topic, fights emerged from thin air and they ended up needing to refilm.

Chris had given up attempting to fight back with them, realizing he was beyond late for the day he had planned out with you. His phone had died, and it was practically 7, the sun kissing its last goodbye for the day.

The moment the car video was done, he forced Matt to drive him to the beach. He didn't care, he was dedicated. "Hurry the fuck up Matt, hurry." Chris pushed, his seatbelt completely off as he sat on the edge of his seat, watching as the dim shore began to appear into view from a distance. "Chris, I can't go any fuckin' faster than this." Matt drove, overwhelmed by his brother's eagerness.

"Ugh, people are leaving already?" Chris whispered under his breath, ignoring Matt as his eyes scanned through the people, hoping to see you and apologize immediately. "Yeah, it's night time, Chris." Matt rolled his eyes. "Who are you even going to see?" Nick asked before stopping himself, his mind quickly putting two and two together. You had been the only one who asked them to come with you to the beach, Matt and Nick had both been together as the said question was asked. Not Chris though.

Nick kept quiet as Chris didn't bother answering him, Matt parks in the parking lot of the beach as Chris jumps out, immediately rushing to see if there was anyone left in the beach. His brothers stayed behind.

His eyes left the sight of people the moment it landed on them, he could recognize you from miles away, he was looking for nobody but you. It was beginning to get dark out, the dim atmosphere making the ability to look for you a little more struggling.

His shoes pressed against the deepening sand, scanning the very few remaining people on the beach. Until he caught a gaze of you drying your dripping body with a towel, as if you knew he was there, you looked up at him directly, catching sight of his eyes, and he felt his pulse quicken through his chest. He swallowed nervously, not because you looked mad, but because you wore no expression whatsoever.

You weren't someone to wear no expression.

-taglist-

@pepsiboyy @jetaimevous @luvr4miya @christopherscamopants @imwetforyourmom @mattssluttywaist @sturnsxplr-25 @flosslikeabosss @meg-sturniolo @stasiesturn @realuvrrr @always-reading @lovergirl4387 @sleepysturnss @milesfordays11 @nonat-111 @liagazed @freshloveforthefit @blueeyedbesson @h3arts4harry

#inkyray #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher owen sturniolo #the sturniolos #sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #nicolas antonio sturniolo #stromboli #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo texts #chris sturniolo angst #chris and matt #chris x reader #the sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo smut

[junislqve]

ᯓ your lips, my lips

— pairs hyungs + reader syn when the hyungs can’t seem to take their eyes off your lips wc 820 cw kissing fluff suggestive | mlist navi ── ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

note this was supposed to be my first post, but here it is ⸜( ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

LEE HEESEUNG

“missed you, baby”

heeseung snuggled in to your side as your head laid on his chest. the apartment was quiet, your breathing combined with his the only thing rivaling the sounds from the tv.

he took a deep breath, letting your familiar scent seep into him. he felt content whenever you were there. all the worries of the week vanishing just by your presence.

you both had restless nights studying for the finals, having no time to see each other. there were so many burdens you wanted to let out, yet all of them seems to be said just by the silence.

in your trail of thought, you failed to realize heeseung was blantantly admiring you. his eyes trained on your lips, sporting his own smile.

he leaned in to peck your own. smiling giddy a second later when you come back in for a longer kiss.

“i really missed you”

PARK JONGSEONG

ever since jay picked up cooking, you always offered to do a taste test. claiming it was to ‘test the seasoning’. as annoyed as jay was sometimes, he could never really refuse you.

jay loves the way you would smile brightly when you taste anything he made. he’d even cook whenever you were around just so he could hear you compliment his cooking.

you were sitting on the kitchen table, while jay stirred up the soup from a new recipe he found.

“can’t i try it yet?” you sigh.

“not yet baby, it’s still boiling hot” jay said. scooping up a tiny bit and blowing on it for good measure, he carried the spoon closer to you and placed a hand under your chin.

you hummed in content, savoring the taste, “this tastes so good, jay” you say, going to grab another spoonful for him. a second later, jay’s lips were on yours. his warm breath fanning your lips.

he stays a second longer, his hand coming up to your neck pulling you impossibly closer. when you both come up for air, jake was back to cooking with a grin.

“your lips taste better”

SIM JAEYUN

jake absolutely loves everything you do. from how passionate you are about your hobbies. whenever you were doing your homework. when you were doing the dishes.

even when you’re doing something as simple as talking. jake likes talking, there was never really any silence in your whole 2 years of being together.

jake always had something interesting to say whether it was about his family, his friends, his dog, or ( mostly ) about you.

on the contrary to jake, you seem to be more quiet. you talked a ton, yes, but you preferred listening to him talk more. resulting in being more quiet whenever he had anything to say.

jake might love talking, but he’s the best listener you’ve ever known. giving little quips and comments on the right moments, and even staying silent and just listening whenever you needed an ear.

you’re currently sat on his carpet, him across you. you were talking about something that happened today and jake nodded along.

he loved whenever you talked, clinging onto every word you were saying. his eyes wander over to observe your face.

the way your eyes crinkle at something funny that happened, or the way that your nose scrunches when you recount an awkward encounter has his heart beating like crazy.

he mainly loves the way your lips curl into that gorgeous smile at a fond memory. loves how you bite your lip when you were thinking.

he couldn’t even stop himself from reaching and bringing you in for a kiss.

“you’re so cute, i can’t help it”

PARK SUNGHOON

he loves kissing you on the forehead. you would find him kissing your forehead almost every day.

it has become his love language. in the morning, afternoon, night, or midnight he would always make time for you and show you that he loves you.

especially on busy days or weeks when you both have less interactions due to busy schedules. he gives and shows affection to you by doing a small and simple but heart-wrenching gestures.

however, sunghoon loves getting comfortable and cozy in bed with you. usually past midnight, when you two decide to finally try to sleep instead of being on your phones.

sunghoon would lay beside you, facing you. trying to close your eyes and drift asleep, you felt sunghoon’s gaze on you.

during these times of the night, looking at you when your face is all peaceful. sunghoon can’t help but stare at you with that look. the look every 2000s romcom guy have in their eyes, filled with hearts and lovesick.

he adores you so much and when you fail to suppress a small smile, he barely hesitates to go in for a kiss.

he won’t ever stop being grateful for having you by his side. will always have his heart on his sleeve whenever you’re in the equation.

© junislqve 2024. liking, rebloging and commenting are appreciated.

#── 🐚 junisfics ᝰ.ᐟ #© junislqve 2024 #enhypen #enha fluff #enha imagines #enhypen x you #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen texts #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x you #park jongseong x reader #park jay x you #park jay x reader #park sunghoon x you #park sunghoon x reader #sim jaeyun x you #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jake x reader #sim jake x you #enha x reader #nishimura riki x reader #nishimura riki x you #riki nishimura x reader #niki x reader #yang jungwon x reader #kim sunoo x reader

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You were promised a jetpack by liars

TONIGHT (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

As a science fiction writer, I find it weird that some sf tropes – like space colonization – have become culture-war touchstones. You know, that whole "we were promised jetpacks" thing.

I confess, I never looked too hard at the practicalities of jetpacks, because they are so obviously either used as a visual shorthand (as in the Jetsons) or as a metaphor. Even a brief moment's serious consideration should make it clear why we wouldn't want the distracted, stoned, drunk, suicidal, homicidal maniacs who pilot their two-ton killbots through our residential streets at 75mph to be flying over our heads with a reservoir of high explosives strapped to their backs.

Jetpacks can make for interesting sf eyeball kicks or literary symbols, but I don't actually want to live in a world of jetpacks. I just want to read about them, and, of course, write about them:

https://reactormag.com/chicken-little/

I had blithely assumed that this was the principle reason we never got the jetpacks we were "promised." I mean, there kind of was a promise, right? I grew up seeing videos of rocketeers flying their jetpacks high above the heads of amazed crowds, at World's Fairs and Disneyland and big public spectacles. There was that scene in Thunderball where James Bond (the canonical Connery Bond, no less) makes an escape by jetpack. There was even a Gilligan's Island episode where the castaways find a jetpack and scheme to fly it all the way back to Hawai'i:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0588084/

Clearly, jetpacks were possible, but they didn't make any sense, so we decided not to use them, right?

Well, I was wrong. In a terrific new 99 Percent Invisible episode, Chris Berube tracks the history of all those jetpacks we saw on TV for decades, and reveals that they were all the same jetpack, flown by just one guy, who risked his life every time he went up in it:

https://99percentinvisible.org/episode/rocket-man/

The jetpack in question – technically a "rocket belt" – was built in the 1960s by Wendell Moore at the Bell Aircraft Corporation, with funding from the DoD. The Bell rocket belt used concentrated hydrogen peroxide as fuel, which burned at temperatures in excess of 1,000'. The rocket belt had a maximum flight time of just 21 seconds.

It was these limitations that disqualified the rocket belt from being used by anyone except stunt pilots with extremely high tolerances for danger. Any tactical advantage conferred on infantrymen by the power to soar over a battlefield for a whopping 21 seconds was totally obliterated by the fact that this infantryman would be encumbered by an extremely heavy, unwieldy and extremely explosive backpack, to say nothing of the high likelihood that rocketeers would plummet out of the sky after failing to track the split-second capacity of a jetpack.

And of course, the rocket belt wasn't going to be a civilian commuting option. If your commute can be accomplished in just 21 seconds of flight time, you should probably just walk, rather than strapping an inferno to your back and risking a lethal fall if you exceed a margin of error measured in just seconds.

Once you know about the jetpack's technical limitations, it's obvious why we never got jetpacks. So why did we expect them? Because we were promised them, and the promise was a lie.

Moore was a consummate showman, which is to say, a bullshitter. He was forever telling the press that his jetpacks would be on everyone's back in one to two years, and he got an impressionable young man, Bill Suitor, to stage showy public demonstrations of the rocket belt. If you ever saw a video of a brave rocketeer piloting a jetpack, it was almost certainly Suitor. Suitor was Connery's stunt-double in Thunderball, and it was he who flew the rocket belt around Sleeping Beauty castle.

Suitor's interview with Berube for the podcast is delightful. Suitor is a hilarious, profane old airman who led an extraordinary life and tells stories with expert timing, busting out great phrases like "a surprise is a fart with a lump in it."

But what's most striking about the tale of the Bell rocket belt is the shape of the deception that Moore and Bell pulled off. By conspicuously failing to mention the rocket belt's limitations, and by callously risking Suitor's life over and over again, they were able to create the impression that jetpacks were everywhere, and that they were trembling on the verge of widespread, popular adoption.

What's more, they played a double game: all the public enthusiasm they manufactured with their carefully stage-managed, canned demos was designed to help them win more defense contracts to keep their dream alive. Ultimately, Uncle Sucker declined to continue funding their boondoggle, and the demos petered out, and the "promise" of a jetpack was broken.

As I listened to the 99 Percent Invisible episode, I was struck by the familiarity of this shuck: this is exactly what the self-driving car bros did over the past decade to convince us all that the human driver was already obsolete. The playbook was nearly identical, right down to the shameless huckster insisting that "full self-driving is one to two years away" every year for a decade:

https://www.theverge.com/2023/8/23/23837598/tesla-elon-musk-self-driving-false-promises-land-of-the-giants

The Potemkin rocket belt was a calculated misdirection, as are the "full self-driving" demos that turn out to be routine, pre-programmed runs on carefully manicured closed tracks:

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/tesla-autopilot-staged-engineer-says-company-faked-full-autopilot/

Practical rocketeering wasn't ever "just around the corner," because a flying, 21 second blast-furnace couldn't be refined into a practical transport. Making the tank bigger would not make this thing safer or easier to transport.

The jetpack showman hoped to cash out by tricking Uncle Sucker into handing him a fat military contract. Robo-car scammers used their conjurer's tricks to cash out to the public markets, taking Uber public on the promise of robo-taxis, even as Uber's self-driving program burned through $2.5b and produced a car with a half-mile mean time between fatal collisions, which the company had to pay someone else $400m to take the business off their hands:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/09/herbies-revenge/#100-billion-here-100-billion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

It's not just self-driving cars. Time and again, the incredibly impressive AI demos that the press credulously promotes turn out to be scams. The dancing robot on stage at the splashy event is literally a guy in a robot-suit:

https://www.businessinsider.com/elon-musks-ai-day-tesla-bot-is-just-a-guy-in-a-bodysuit-2021-8

The Hollywood-killing, AI-produced video prompting system is so cumbersome to use, and so severely limited, that it's arguably worse than useless:

https://www.wheresyoured.at/expectations-versus-reality/

The centuries' worth of progress the AI made in discovering new materials actually "discovered" a bunch of trivial variations on existing materials, as well as a huge swathe of materials that only exist at absolute zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

The AI grocery store where you just pick things up and put them in your shopping basket without using the checkout turns out to be a call-center full of low-waged Indian workers desperately squinting at videos of you, trying to figure out what you put in your bag:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins

The discovery of these frauds somehow never precipitates disillusionment. Rather than getting angry with marketers for tricking them, reporters are ventriloquized into repeating the marketing claim that these aren't lies, they're premature truths. Sure, today these are faked, but once the product is refined, the fakery will no longer be required.

This must be the kinds of Magic Underpants Gnomery the credulous press engaged in during the jetpack days: "Sure, a 21-second rocket belt is totally useless for anything except wowing county fair yokels – but once they figure out how to fit an order of magnitude more high-explosive onto that guy's back, this thing will really take off!"

The AI version of this is that if we just keep throwing orders of magnitude more training data and compute at the stochastic parrot, it will eventually come to life and become our superintelligent, omnipotent techno-genie. In other words, if we just keep breeding these horses to run faster and faster, eventually one of our prize mares will give birth to a locomotive:

https://locusmag.com/2020/07/cory-doctorow-full-employment/

As a society, we have vested an alarming amount of power in the hands of tech billionaires who profess to be embittered science fiction fans who merely want to realize the "promises" of our Golden Age stfnal dreams. These bros insist that they can overcome both the technical hurdles and the absolutely insurmountable privation involved in space colonization:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

They have somehow mistaken Neal Stephenson's dystopian satirical "metaverse" for a roadmap:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/18/metaverse-means-pivot-to-video/

As Charlie Stross writes, it's not just that these weirdos can't tell the difference between imaginative parables about the future and predictions about the future – it's also that they keep mistaking dystopias for business plans:

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/tech-billionaires-need-to-stop-trying-to-make-the-science-fiction-they-grew-up-on-real/

Cyberpunk was a warning, not a suggestion. Please, I beg you, stop building the fucking torment nexus:

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/torment-nexus

These techno-billionaires profess to be fulfilling a broken promise, but surely they know that the promises were made by liars – showmen using parlor tricks to sell the impossible. You were "promised a jetpack" in the same sense that table-rapping "spiritualists" promised you a conduit to talk with the dead, or that carny barkers promised you a girl that could turn into a gorilla:

https://milwaukeerecord.com/film/ape-girl-shes-alive-documentary-november-11-sugar-maple/

That's quite a supervillain origin story: "I was promised a jetpack, but then I grew up discovered that it was just a special effect. In revenge, I am promising you superintelligent AIs and self-driving cars, and these, too, are SFX."

In other words: "Die a disillusioned jetpack fan or live long enough to become the fraudster who cooked up the jetpack lie you despise."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/17/fake-it-until-you-dont-make-it/#twenty-one-seconds

#pluralistic #99pi #99 percent invisible #rocketeers #jetpacks #ai #full self-driving #fsd #absent indians #hoaxes #fake it until you dont make it #Bell Aircraft Corporation #Wendell Moore #podcasts

[natjennie]

I was thinking about how some people have found junior year to be kind of mmm lackluster because the bad kids just kind of. win every fight like it's nothing so that's not interesting. which is a totally valid and understandable position to take. but the more I thought about it I kind of landed on the fact that that might be the point. they're good at fighting. they're good at investigating mysteries and they're good at combat and they're good at magic. they've been training for it for 2 years. but yknow what they're not good at? yknow what they did struggle with this season? being teenagers. being teens in junior year of high school.

gorgug worked his ASS off to figure out how to combine rage and artificing, and everyone told him he couldn't. kristen's god has been dead and she's been desperately struggling to hold on to her because it's the one thing keeping her from a breakdown. also she's failing out of school. fig was on the verge of expulsion, she misses her girlfriend, she doesn't know who she is. and she finds her path back to herself with her music, her passion. adaine was poor and unable to complete school assignments because of expensive materials and struggled to find a job and hid the fact that she needed help from the people supporting her because she didn't want to look weak. fabian has faced incredible loneliness and abandonment from his family and friends, gilear and hallariel being gone and gorgug quitting bloodrush. he's worked so hard to be popular at school to try to bolster kristen's campaign but he's still so lonely. and don't even get me started on riz. he's running himself ragged taking on the stress of his friends to make sure they're all succeeding while not leaving a moment for himself. he's joined every extracurricular he's running between responsibilities, always working always nervous always frazzled. and he's still scared deep down of the inevitability of that school for solo adventurers.

and this all makes so much sense with it being junior year! at least in america, junior year is the time you buckle down, you focus on school, you work yourself to the bone, you have no free time, you're on the edge of losing your friends, you don't know what to do. and the downtime system illustrated that perfectly. what do you prioritize. when can you ever relax. the stress and the rage builds and builds. and they overcame that. so I hesitate to believe that junior year didn't have stakes. they just weren't the same stakes we were used to seeing in the other seasons. sure they dominated in combat but don't forget how hard they had to work in every other facet of their lives.

#yknow what i mean?? #fantasy high #d20 #dimension 20 #fhjy

[kamesama]

Hiii, I have a request! Ok so hear me out, what if Sukuna finds another woman and replace reader. make it as angsty as possible with a happy ending pretty please with a cherry on top🥹

you have no idea how excited i got when i read this, and then i got disappointed when i ( after my 3rd time reading the request ) noticed you said a happy ending. BUT SINCE IT HAS A CHERRY ON TOP, i will oblige. i would have made this worse if it wasn't for the happy ending.

— favourite: ryōmen sukuna.

— notes + warnings: *cracks knuckles* utter, sheer, disgusting sensation of feeling replaced; jealousy; mentions of self-loathing; mentions of intimacy/intercourse ( sukuna sleeping w/ another woman, etc ); implication of violence / cruel sukuna moment ( what do you expect? ); happy ending tho ( ? ); hurt/comfort ( ? ); unspecified but it's heian era / true-form! sukuna; concubine w/ an attitude! reader. — word count: 1224

oh, to be the apple of one’s eye — utterly adored, all-too-greatly desired, cherished beyond measure. irreplaceable.

oftentimes you felt like so, when sunken into the mattress for the sake of being ravished. when preyed on by an intense blood-hued gaze. when cradled almost gently upon the throne that was sukuna’s lap. 

but how foolish of you to think that you were the single person privileged to chant his name in ecstasy. how adorable of you to think that only your fingernails could claw down his back to leave incoherent trails of pleasure you always lost yourself in. how pathetic of you to think that it was solely your own luxury to occupy the spot upon his thighs. how audacious of you to think that your lips, and your lips alone, were entitled to the act of worshipping his skin; from the sharp angle of his jaw, down his beating pulse, across the expanse of his broad chest. how bold of you to think that your tongue was the single one capable of conjuring up tales that could tickle his fancy and shackle his interest and entertain his unpredictable whims. 

and so, you pondered. when another had come to occupy his chamber after dark, with her lush skin and silken hair and slender legs, you pondered, for what else could you possibly do, contained between the walls of your room? 

have you rotten already?

you’ve seen her march and stomp to his chamber, leaving an invisible trace of the scent so strong you could swear it still haunted your nostrils. her lips glistened in the candlelight as if coated with a thick layer of honey that she must have rubbed into her tongue and gums earlier that eve. she wore her eroticism proudly; the subtle arch of her mouth was an aphrodisiac of its own. 

the walls were always thin, but that night, they seemed thinner than ever. you could swear you’ve heard every gasp, every moan, every writhe. the curl of her toes, the grip of her slender digits at the sheets as her back arched in that wondrous curve. did his lips touch every inch of her body? from the saccharine spot on her neck to the delightful mounds on her chest? the thin skin of her hip; the lush softness of her thighs?

did his tongue utter praises of her performance, of her appearance, of her? did he claim her with nothing short of delight coursing through his accursed veins?

the sole thought made you so sullenly disappointed. your own bedding had never felt colder.

“you look miserable, woman. what is it with that attitude?” as blunt as ever, sukuna questioned, his knuckles sunken into his cheek as he watched you peel a pomegranate. despite the skillfulness faithfully coating your movements, your digits remained stained with the rich hue of the fruit’s insides; despite the effort to be flawless.

your lips pursed in response, a small sign of displeasure standing hand-in-hand with reluctance. perhaps you are acting coy — sukuna concluded — lacing your foul mood with a girlish act and bratty demeanour. not that it would render him surprised. rather, it tickled his curiosity, fueled his fantasy, and made him just a tidbit of something somewhat akin to concern.

“speak, princess,” he cooed, deciding to humour your wits with barely a mouthful of niceties. he leaned back in his seat, patting his lap with one of his hands, whilst one rested on the thigh of his other leg. the remaining two were crossed over his chest either out of boredom or superiority; or perhaps both. 

you wanted to disobey; to turn your head away with a huff as your fingertips dug into pomegranate seeds. to maintain your shred of pride, wearing your displeasure with a sense of dignity out of sole respect for all the umbrage and anguish lulling you to sleep on the nights when you weren’t worthy enough. 

but you didn’t.

almost too eagerly, you put away the fruit into a bowl to bleed, nearly crawling to his lap. despite the willingness of your body to nest so closely against his, however, your face remained with its little scowl, your eyes almost overfilled with chagrin. 

“am i not your favourite?” 

the audacity soaked your words, dripping heavily off them. sukuna sensed it; the thickness of envy in your voice, and all the more loathing that nearly looked like some deranged form of self-pity.

his slit brows rose up, his crimson gaze intense enough to have made you feel that — if he were to look just a little deeper into your eyes — he would see the way your hands massaged your own breasts as if to grasp whether or not they were shapely enough; the way you trailed one same line underneath your eye time and time again in an attempt to determine if sleeplessness has made you revolting.

“why should you desire another to warm your bed?”

a grin tugged at the corners of sukuna’s mouth as a sense of understanding weighed on his shoulders. a small hum of acknowledgement sounded from the top of his throat, his eyes closing as he took your stained hand and brought it up to his lips.

“so that’s what this is about,” he mused, his tongue shamelessly trailing across your digits to lap up the sour sweetness coating them, “jealousy is a pesky thing, little one.”

“i don’t care,” you scoffed, trying to ignore the way he gently sucked on the tip of your finger before looking at you, one of his hands absentmindedly caressing up your thigh through the silken material of your clothing, “it should be me. just me. i am the only one you summon to peel your fruits and to accompany you while you write, so why call upon another to please you at night?” you demanded. it seemed to amuse him all the more.

he raised a brow at your words and their curious tone, “you’re forgetting your place, woman,” he spoke coldly, yet the edge of his statement was somewhat softened by a dash of entertainment. nonetheless, it was enough to send shivers down your spine as his fingers sunk into your cheeks, making your luscious lips pucker. he observed your features; that small tidbit of defiance standing in defence of your vulnerability, your need, your craving. it made him grin with a certain kind of wickedness.

“but i do suppose that makes you my favourite,” he uttered, “no one else would dare be such an audacious thing…” his thumb grazed over your lower lip, parting your mouth open just enough to catch a glimpse of the pink flesh inside, “i could rip your tongue out for your insolence,” he cooed slowly, as if imagining your bleeding mouth, filled to the brim with crimson, “and you’d still be just as pretty.”

a shiver ran down your spine enough to make your bones feel frozen to the marrow, yet his touch left your body scorched; blood boiling with desire for whatever wicked debauchery his mind could conjure up.

“but i do appreciate your tales. very much so.” he spoke, easing his grasp on your face, instead morphing it into an almost appreciative caress.

the uncharacteristically gentle kiss planted to your brow seemed to calm your pounding heart for a mere few moments.

“perhaps i have some reminding to do.”

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk sukuna #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #kamesama

[noyasmashing]

Tamaki is literally my only anime crush 😭 and then you write for him 🫶

Can we have yan Tamaki hcs? I don’t know if you write yan or not

ANYTHING FOR U MILLY!! I have not written yandere before so ill try my best ;3 (sorry if it sucks)

CW: soft yandere?? nothing to crazy just a bit of stalking and sexual fantasies, sub coded Tamaki, praise, and degradation.

First and foremost, this man is the epitome of shy. I mean, seriously, he blends in pretty well, never going out of his way to bring attention to himself. And he totally plays that to his advantage. You'll catch him subtly trailing after you, taking mental notes of your every move, even down to the exact time you do things. He insists it's for your protection, unwilling to acknowledge to himself just how unsettling his behavior is. If you're into coffee, he's got your order and the precise moment you grab it each morning memorized.

And he's definitely strategic about it. Say he knows you tend to stroll over to the library after classes, he'll just happen to "accidentally" cross paths with you during his "routine afternoon jog."

But don't expect him to strike up a conversation just yet. No, instead, he's content to admire you from a distance, pulling all the stops to catch your eye without saying a word.

Oh, and let's talk about compliments. This guy eats those up like candy. Anytime you praise him for his heroics or strength, his elf-like ears turning bright red, stumbling over his words to thank you.

He gets oddly possessive if he catches you chatting with any other guy, especially if it's Mirio. In his mind, he's already picturing you two planning the wedding. But, of course, he's way too timid to voice any of that. Instead, he'll just retreat to a quiet corner, silently brooding, hoping you'll notice he's upset without him having to say a word.

I can just tell physical touch is his weakness. You'll find him "accidentally" bumping into you, using any excuse to press his body against yours just to get by, or letting his hands brush against yours as he hands you something. All those little moments of contact? Yeah, he's definitely not immune to those.

Growing up, he was never one to show much interest in girls. Crushes were foreign to him, until you came along. Your laughter at his silly jokes alone was enough to make his head spin. He craved the rush of dopamine and nerves he felt when he was around you, wanting more with each passing moment. Eventually, he took things too far.

Following you home was undoubtedly one of the most reckless actions he had ever taken, and predictably, he got caught. Even if you did return feelings for him, your initial response would be to scold him for his invasive behavior.

He feels remorseful, tears falling down his red cheeks, but the attention you're suddenly giving him weakens his knees. It's a revelation to him that he also enjoys being degraded by you. Suddenly, all he can think about is you tugging on his long locks and calling him nothing but a toy for your own pleasure.

That is when he starts experiencing wet dreams about you. Humping his pillow in his sleep as he moans your name, along with little gasps and sighs. At the same time, he is wetting his underwear with an embarrassing amount of cum. Never once did he feel so perverted and horny, but he's too caught up in the moment to worry about it.

#amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki amakiji #tamaki x reader #mha tamaki #tamaki amajiki #amajiki smut #mha amajiki #amajiki x reader #bnha amajiki #tamaki smut #sub yandere #dom reader #my hero academia #my hero acedamia #mha smut #yandere mha #yandere boku no hero academia

[zoeykallus]

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Part 4/7 - Echo

Warnings: Hurt/Angst/Comfort/Fluff/Love Confessions

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

This is a continuation of this request :

The Bad Batch/ Mayday/Rex x Reader Prompts – Confessions

Echo

You are alone with Echo. It's a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but it's not too warm. Pleasant conditions for working on the outer hull of the Marauder. It's nice to be alone with Echo, you can talk to him, his attention is only on you and the work you're doing together. It's not often that you're alone together, and every time you do, you promise yourself to talk to him about how you feel about him. But every time you back out and don't tell him. He is always attentive to you, polite, a gentleman, he is anything but dismissive, and yet you are very nervous every time. Today, however, you are determined to confess your feelings to Echo, you just don't really know how. You decide to try dipping your toes in the water first. It seems like a good idea to test what he thinks. A tentative, “Hey Echo,” escapes your lips. He smiles.

“Yeah?” You think for a moment about how you should phrase the sentence before you speak. You want to say the right thing and get an answer from him that you can do something with. “Have you ever thought about looking for a partner? You know, now that we live on Pabuu and all.” Echo raises his eyebrows in surprise and pauses in his work. His eyes wander back and forth thoughtfully for a moment, then his brows draw together critically, and you watch him carefully, feeling the nervousness creeping up inside you again. “No, I haven't really thought about it, not seriously anyway. I spend most of my time working with Rex, with the rebellion. I haven't really retired like the rest of the squad. There's still far too much to do out there.” A quiet, thoughtful, “Hmm,” comes over your lips. That's not exactly what you wanted to hear. Suddenly he adds, “Apart from that, I'm not exactly a great catch, finding a partner might be difficult”

To emphasize his words, he taps his scomp-link arm against one of his artificial legs. You really didn't expect that, and you didn't want to hear it from him. You actually want to talk back and tell him how adorable he is and that anyone would be lucky to have him by their side, but you don't really dare, not yet. You blink, a little nervously. The feeling of heaviness settles in the pit of your stomach. Somehow you had imagined the course of this conversation to be different and, slowly but surely, your courage is failing you. But you don't want to give up just yet. “You've really never thought about it? There is no one who could have awakened this thought in you in any way? Someone who could arouse your interest?” You see his jaw muscles flex, he grinds his teeth, seeming to weigh the words he wants to say. Echo sighs softly and finally says, “No, not really” Your heart sinks for a moment, but then something unexpected happens. Crosshair, who is walking by in the background, grumbles softly, “Liar”

Echo turns around, startled. Irritated, he grumbles, “Where did you come from?” Crosshair continues walking, without turning around he shrugs his shoulders and says dryly, “From the depths of space” You both watch as Crosshair disappears around a corner of a house, then your eyes meet. A nervous smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, while Echo suddenly seems to have a little more color in his face. You ask, curious as well as nervous, “Does Crosshair know something I don't?” The thought that Echo might already have a secret love affair comes to you, and the heaviness in your stomach turns into a full-blown mountain. But of course you don't want to let it show, but you still want certainty. Echo scratches the back of his neck nervously with the scomp link. “Why are you so interested in this?” he asks back, "Any particular reason?"

You shrug your shoulders uncertainly, avoid his gaze and say quietly, almost in a whisper, “Maybe I was hoping you liked me as much as I like you” You hear his footsteps coming closer and finally look at him again. “That's why you asked? Because you like me, um, romantically?” You say meekly, “Maybe” Echo smirks. “ Won't you just admit it?” You bite your lower lip as you feel the smirk infect you. You ask bolder than you feel, “What do I get in return?” Echo looks at you mischievously and takes one of your hands in his. “How about the first of many kisses?”

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@ivyyyyy

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #echo #bad batch echo #clone trooper echo #echo bad batch #echo tbb #echo x reader #tbb echo #the bad batch echo #tbb echo x reader #bad batch echo x reader #echo fanfiction #echo fic #sw tbb #asks #requests #echo x you #tbb echo x you

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (10)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (9)

“What has gotten into you two?” You scream loud enough to make Sam flinch. “Did you realize that Michael heard what you said? He’s a child and that was the worst way to find out that Dean is his father! How could you do this to him?”

You throw your hands up as the men prefer to push each other around instead of listening to you.

“Dean, stop this. Y/N is right,” Sam tries to help you, but Dean is out of his mind. 

“He—he tried to get into your pants. I know it,” Dean grunts and pushes Ketch away. “I saw the way he looked at you when during our meetings, and not moments ago.”

“He’s my friend.”

“No,” Dean steps toward you, “he’s not. All he has in mind is to get into your pants, sweetheart. You’re just too blinded by the lies he fed you to see clearly.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Winchester!” You slap Dean across the face, leaving an angry handprint on his left cheek. “Not all men are pigs or assholes like you.”

“I saw what I saw, Y/N,” Dean huffs, and rubs his burning cheek. “A wolf recognizes another wolf sniffing around his territory. That bastard came to claim what’s mine.”

“What’s yours? Dream on, Winchester,” Ketch laughs in Dean’s face. “For years I played the good guy, her friend, and confidant to make her see that I’m the man she should long for, not the guy leaving her all alone when she needed him the most. Do you have the slightest idea how hard it is to not make a move while you’re longing for the woman you can’t have?”

“Hah, I told you,” Dean wildly gestures toward Ketch. “He’s nothing but a dog wanting to sniff at your pussy.”

You try to fathom that your friend, the man you consider family tricked you only to get into your pants. 

That’s all you’ve been to him. A love interest. Not a friend. Not a business partner. Not the person he cares for.

Ketch is a liar, just like all the other men trying to charm their way into your bed over the years. You didn’t let any man get close to you, afraid to get hurt again. 

A few sexual encounters with faceless men you forgot about the morning after were all you allowed yourself. Your son always came first. This will never change.

“Dean!” Sam warns. “Someone should check on the kid before things get out of hand. He just got to know about his father. Can you postpone your pissing contest for now?”

You give Sam a weak smile. Dean is not the kind of guy who gives up so easily. You know that. For now, you will leave Ketch, Dean, and all the shit they pulled behind and try to soothe your child. The only important man in your life.

“You lied,” Michael sniffs when you enter your bedroom. You sigh, relieved that you finally found him. You were searching for your son for half an hour. Finding him here, in your arms is comforting. He was seeking your closeness while being angry at you.

“Baby boy,” you crouch down to look under your bed. “I’m sorry.”

“You said my dad is overseas, and that he can’t be with us because he’s…always busy,” he sniffles. “Why did you lie to me, mommy?”

“Sometimes adults lie to not hurt someone they love, baby,” you lie on the ground, and touch his hand. “Dean,” you sigh, “your dad didn’t know about you. We ended our relationship, and I left to live here, and give you the life you deserve.”

“Why did you never tell him about me?” Michael asks. “Mommy? I asked about my dad, and you never told me about him.”

“I was scared,” you reluctantly admit. “Dean hurt me back then, and I ran away like a scared child. Almost like you now.”

“You were scared?” Michael scoots a little closer to curl in your side. “Why? Did he hurt you? I’ll kick him if he hurt you.”

“Not like that, baby,” you softly say, and smile at your son. “People hurt you each other differently, you know. Just like Ketch and Dean did with you. They hurt your heart with their words.”

Michael nods. He always was smart for his age. “Words can hurt. In here.” He points at his chest. “I believed you hate me, Mommy. I…I’m sorry.”

“Shhh…I’m sorry,” you move closer to wrap your son in your arms. “I love you, baby. The reason for not telling you about Dean was that I didn’t know if he wanted to get to know you. I was scared and unsure what to do.”

“But…he came here for me,” Michael sniffles. “Right? Dean came here to get to know me. He brought me the car his brother gave him. This means he…likes me.”

You remain silent. “He got on a plane for you. I can tell, Dean hates flying.”

“Let me go, Sammy. That bastard won’t put his hands on my woman!” Dean fights his brother’s hold on him. “I will kill him!”

“You degenerated worm,” Ketch pushes his hair back and laughs about Dean. “Do you honestly believe she will choose you over me?” He huffs. “You had your chance and fucked up big time. I was there the whole time. Y/N will choose me after you attacked me without a reason.”

“She won’t,” Dean bares his teeth. “Y/N is smart and knows that you lied to her. She won’t let you near her or Michael ever again.”

“We will see, Kansas boy,” Ketch spits on the ground. “You’re nothing but a bad memory. I’m a gentleman and know how to treat a lady.”

“I think that is enough,” you snap at Ketch. “Dean, Sam, get inside. I got to talk to my…friend.” You jerk your head toward the door. “Dean, I hope you have a speech prepared because now, you’ll explain to your son why you came here.”

“Uh-sure,” Dean looks at Ketch and then at you. He smirks, knowing he at least won this battle. “Sorry for the mess.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get inside and shut up,” you brush past Dean. “Arthur,” you exhale sharply and steel yourself. “I quit.” 

“What? You can’t give everything up for that man!”

“I don’t give up anything for Dean,” you cross your arms over your chest. “But I will no longer work with a man pretending to be a friend to get in my pants. I believed our friendship was special, now I know better.”

“Y/N,” he tries to touch your shoulder, but you slap his hand away. “You can’t believe his lies.”

“Save it, Arthur,” you shake your head. “I needed a friend, not another lover. I will clean out my office on Monday.”

You turn around and take a deep breath. One fight is done, another awaits you…

#dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #au!dean winchester #au!dean winchester x reader #x reader #Designed by pain (10)

[jacky-rubou]

I had a dream where Ford acts like Dipper and makes a list of all the things he thinks he should apologize to his brother for and then he tells Stan to sit in the chair and makes Stan promise to listen to what he has to say until the end and without interruptions. Ford finishes apologizing for everything he thinks he should apologize to Stan, his brother gets up from his seat and gives him a hug saying he forgives him. But Ford is confused because Stan didn't specify what exactly he forgave, only for Stan to respond "for everything". Then the two of them start crying and hug each other tightly.

this was so cute i couldn't just not write a ficlet about it haha (hope you don't mind, but inspiration struck lol)

"Stan?"

"Hmmm?" Stan acknowledged while half-listening, his eyes still focused on the project in front of him. Clothes haphazardly loomed in a big messy pile to his left, a few duffel bags to his left, and a vain attempt to do it all alone had his attention all to itself. His mind found only a brief moment to worry as he folded and tucked a plain white shirt into its spot at the bottom, lost in the action.

At least, until he realized Ford hadn't responded. Stan glanced over his shoulder and swore he saw his twin stuff something into his coat when he caught his eye. Stan gave him a raised eyebrow, glancing at the spot of interest until Ford sheepishly turned away. Stan shrugged and continued his work, finding comfort in the idea of this tedium leading to the trip of his dreams despite how long such a thing would take for just one person to do.

But Ford was still just... standing behind him. Awkwardly. In the way Stan couldn't pretend wasn't just like how he'd wait for room to speak when they were in school and he needed to speak to a teacher. Always uncomfortable and unsure if he was being bothersome for having a question or needing help. Stan could even hear him muttering under his breath, like he was psyching himself up. If Stan was being honest, it was quite annoying that Ford wouldn't just say what he wanted instead of making a big painful deal about it.

"Just spit it out, Ford. I'm waiting," Stan blurted, irritation sneaking its way into his tone that only gathered a gasp and immediate withdrawal from Ford, "...what is it? Better be important, heh..."

"Nothing... it's..." Ford took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, "It's nothing... Just pretend I didn't say anything..."

"Ya can't just say that and think I'd believe ya. What is it?" Stan asked once more, fully turning around to find a sight he wasn't expecting. Ford was looking down, his eyes visibly watering and his throat swallowing heavily. Ford caught his staring and just... sucked it all in at once in a single moment to gather himself that felt all wrong. "What's wrong?"

"I told you it's nothing, just... let's get this all packed..." Ford walked over to stand next to Stan and began to pack clothes for their trip before Stan could even protest that there was certainly something wrong with how strongly he's deflecting. "Then we can get on that trip faster, yes?"

"Ford, you're trembling. Tell me what's wrong before you mess up all the clothes," Stan saw the sloppy way that Ford was packing, quickly devolving into just tossing shirts and pants in with no regards to order. But instead of making his brother tell him what was up, it only seemed to make him more upset. Stan grabbed his hand before he could toss anything else into a bag, finally pausing him enough for his eyes to well up. "You know you can tell me anything, right? Did something happen?"

Stan let Ford go and he stepped back, looking more and more like a sad cat with every moment. He peeked into his coat for a moment, nervously turning away before the sound of crinkling echoed in the small bedroom. Stan simply stared in confusion before Ford turned back and cleared his throat for the last time.

"You might want to sit down. And I... I would like it if you just... heard me out," Ford requested, soft and delicate as a leaf in the fall. Stan frowned, concern etching on his features as he found an empty spot on the messy bed to sit. "I'll say my piece and then... we can forget about it before dinner. Maybe even by lunch."

Ford chuckled but there was no humor in it. Much less his face, which was twisted in pained sorrow. Stan couldn't help but search Ford's eyes for an explanation that didn't leave him confused and wanting to punch whatever or whoever clearly upset him this much. Ford took a few deep breaths and Stan could see him fighting for his life to say what he wanted to in his expression.

"Promise me you won't interrupt, that you'll just hear me out," Ford requested quietly, patting his coat for the mysterious thing he'd been hiding the entire time. Stan nodded. "Just... just say it in words. I need to know I'll be heard..."

"I promise," Stan tried to tamp down the initial annoyance at the theatrics, realizing it was important to Ford that he listen, "You're worryin' me, Ford. But that doesn't mean I won't listen."

"No need to be worried, just..." Ford sucked in a breath and tensed all up like he was scared of something, "I have something important I have to get off my chest before... well, nevermind all that."

Stan stayed quiet, watching Ford's face contort into something that could only be described as pure guilt. He refused to look Stan in the eye as he began, holding himself tightly as he began to speak what he'd clearly been meaning to say the entire time. Stan listened, his job to get these clothes and stuff packed momentarily forgotten as Ford checked his coat once more.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry. I can't say that... enough," Ford swallowed thickly and looked to his feet, "So I guess I'll apologize for everything, one by one. Before we get on a boat and let this travesty ruin our relationship again."

Stan didn't know what he meant with 'this travesty', finding only concern at every possible connotation. But still he stayed silent, paying the utmost attention as Ford began to list off everything he thought he needed to apologize for with a voice that was only trembling.

"I am sorry for not considering how West Coast Tech would've made you feel, for not... thinking our dream was viable... for abandoning our dream so soon..." Ford began with a choke, a place Stan never expected him to start with, "I should've known it would upset you. I should've asked if you were okay with it. I should've defended you in that stupid principal's office. I should've rejected it. I'm sorry I didn't."

Stan wanted so badly to speak up, to say that that wasn't fully fair, finding his lips tied at the promise he'd made moments earlier. Ford was barely holding together at the first thing he'd listed, sucking it in with a frown.

"I am sorry I assumed the incident was a sabotage. I should've known you'd never do that. I'm..." Ford glanced at Stan's face before looking at the ground again, pain within his form, "I'm sorry I let Pa kick you out without so much of a word of protest. I ruined your life. I'm so sorry."

Stan stayed silent as Ford apologized for not reaching out to him sooner. For thinking badly of him, even though Stan wouldn't have known. Stan fought with his mind at the idea of stopping Ford from continuing, feeling something soothing at the words acknowledging unspoken hurt. But Stan... felt something wrong about it at the same time that disconcerted him that he couldn't place as Ford spoke on.

"I am sorry I only called you to be an 'errand boy'. I should've known what you'd think of that after you were homeless for a decade," Ford sighed softly, curling in on himself as memories flashed across his face, "I am sorry I didn't just let you burn the journal. I'm sorry I fought you and I'm sorry I... I fell in the portal and made you work for so long to get me back..."

"What..." Stan spoke before he could think, his mind reeling at just what Ford could be willing to apologize for. Ford looked at him and Stan cleared his throat apologetically at the broken promise. "Sorry... sorry, just... involuntary. Go on..."

"I'm sorry I punched you out of the portal. I'm sorry I didn't thank you. I'm sorry I said I was going to kick you out. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you or try to make amends..." Ford went quiet, quieter than he'd been throughout this little speech, and took a quick glance at the inner side of his coat like he thought he was being sneaky about it. Stan didn't call him out, simply heard him out like he'd promised. "I'm... I'm sorry I had to erase your mind... to... to see that you were better than... the entirety of, well, me.

"I'm sorry this trip didn't happen until a week from now, 40 years after when it should've been... I'm sorry for..." Ford paused, his breaths shuddering even more than they had been, "I'm sorry for being a completely inadequate brother to you. I'm... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...

"You don't have to say anything... I-I don't deserve to be forgiven. I just... wanted to get it off my chest before I trap you on a boat with me," Ford finished with his pose looking disconcertingly like how he'd hold himself after he'd been bullied as a kid; hands hidden behind his back, his head down, a nervous frown on his face that betrayed something deeper... Stan couldn't stand it. "In fact, you don't even have to go on that boat trip if you don't want to. I can't imagine wanting to live with me for an extended period of time now that I think of it. I'm sorry for not considering that before rushing you into it..."

"Hey, hey, none of that, 'kay?" Stan stood up and touched Ford on the shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Ford looked at him and Stan could see something break behind his eyes before it happened on his face and he melted into him. Stan hugged Ford and whispered comfort in his ear before deciding it was best to give his poor twin some closure. "As far as I'm concerned, it's all water under the boat. Or however that phrase goes. I forgive you."

"For what part of it? Letting you get kicked out? Punching you? Or..." Ford fell silent, lost in thought as Stan wondered how he could've misunderstood 'I forgive you' to be only for one thing. "Or maybe the late trip?"

"No, no, Ford... you don't get it..." Stan sighed, only watching Ford become slightly panicked before he explained further with a small frown, "I mean all of it. I forgive you for everything."

"Even the errand boy stuff?"

"Even the errand boy stuff..." Stan repeated with a nod, letting out an involuntary 'oomph!' when Ford squeezed him tight in hug reciprocation. Stan blinked, finding himself almost surprised to find tears in his own eyes. Ford shook with tears of his own, barely able to keep his composure.

"Th-thank you..."

"Of course, Ford," Stan led him to the bed after noticing how unstable he was, keeping an arm around him the entire time. "I hope you know that I love you and want you on this trip."

"I... I still don't understand why... I can never make up for what I've done to hurt you..." Ford sighed softly, a tired frown on his face that was lifted slightly at Stan's kindness. He reached into his pocket to pull out what he'd been hiding the entire time, and Stan could only feel his heart sink. "I still have so much more on this list I didn't mention..."

"You and Dipper really are more alike than I thought, huh?" Stan chuckled lightly, though his eyes wandered and widened at some of the things on the list he managed to catch before Ford turned it from view. '-I'm sorry for being a burden' and '-I'm sorry I took your guest room' were the next things on the list, though crossed out with the words 'too needy and annoying' written as an excuse to skip them. "Ford... you're fine. You needed the guest room. I hardly think that makes you a burden... or any of that..."

"I should've stayed in the basement like I said I would..." Ford murmured before Stan turned his face to him with a stern frown, "What? It's true..."

"No it isn't. Stop lying to yourself or I might just slap you," Stan poked a finger in his direction, watching Ford shrink back before softening up, "You mean a lot to me, Ford. I told you that I forgave you and I meant it. Let me rip up that list and then maybe we can work on healing together, hmm?"

"But I can't make it up to you! Why are you being so nice to me?" Ford cried, pulling away only to start weeping, "You're supposed to be mad at me..."

"Hey. Let's not talk like that, eh? You're mean enough to yourself," Stan pointed out, yanking the list out of Ford's hand before he could protest and tearing it into shreds, "If you want to 'make it up to me' or whatever, you can start by helping me pack for our trip. Not like you need to or nothing."

"I guess I can live with that..." Ford sighed in resignation and before Stan could reiterate that he didn't need to, started folding clothes and putting them away without another word, "Serves me right..."

"Ford, it's not that serious. Here, I'll help you," Stan put himself back into the work, folding clothes and tucking them away without letting Ford do too much of it. Ford looked to challenge that idea, quickening his pace until Stan finally put a hand on his shoulder to pause him again. "Ford. I love you. Remember that. Don't work yourself to death over anything, okay?"

"Okay..." Ford stopped folding clothes, turning to Stan with a sheepish frown. He took one look at Stan's concern and outstretched arms before breaking and falling into Stan's arms once more. No dry eye existed in that small bedroom, the sound of sniffling and warbling clear. "I love you... so much... I wish I hadn't tried to deny it for so long..."

"Shhh, it's okay. I forgive you. Love you too."

Stan couldn't sweep the pieces of that blasted list into the trash any faster.

#askjacky #gravity falls #stanford pines #ford pines #stanley pines #stan pines #fanfic #prompt #dreams #kfjdlsjlkfds hope you see this anon #i put my heart into this and i hope you're okay with me taking inspiration from your dream like this #might put it up on ao3 with some edits but only if anon's good with it haha

[milliesfishes]

The Ocean

[fem reader] contains: academic rivals to lovers, mentions of drowning, misogyny. pairing: young!coriolanus snow x fem!reader summary: (au) Coriolanus Snow and you have been competing for the Academy's top spot for a long time, and when you're paired up for a group project, he's certain it'll be disastrous. But when he finds he misjudged his pretty rival, he wonders if he ever hated you at all. author’s note: this one's been bouncing around in my head for a long time, hope you like it!

There is nothing Coriolanus Snow despised more than group projects.

He much preferred to work solo, unburdened by another person's input. Being by himself, working on an assignment in a way he knew would get him a good grade was pure bliss.

But Professor Cicero just had to assign partners.

And she just had to pair him up with you.

He despised you, with your rich, high up family and your charm and your effortless good grades. You and him had been vying for the top spot in your class for years. It was infuriating how perfect you were, how everyone seemed to love you.

Now, sitting at your desk in the grand house you occupied with your aunt, he decided to grit his teeth and get through it. You were lying on your back on your bed, head hanging over the edge, hair touching the floor the guidelines for the project: an oral presentation and individual essays on the importance of the Hunger Games.

You were in a pretty little white sundress and he was still in his Academy uniform, not having had the time to go home and change. Another reason to be infuriated at you- the luxuries you had that he did not.

"Are you going to take this seriously?" Coriolanus huffed, crossing his arms as he watched you read. Your relaxed demeanor annoyed him- this project was important.

"Just give me a minute," you said, not taking your eyes off the paper. "I want to make sure I understand this correctly."

"What is there to understand?" He looked down at his shoes, impatiently waiting for you do be done. "It seemed straightforward to me."

"Okay, okay," you laughed a little, rolling over onto your stomach and setting the paper to the side, your pretty blue eyes fixed on him now. "Since you've clearly been thinking about it for awhile, what do you think we should be writing about?"

He sat up straight in his chair. Finally, he'd be able to take charge. "The Games' purpose is to punish the districts for the actions of the rebels. We should spend the bulk of the assignment talking about that."

You bit your lip, eyes cast to the side as you thought about it, nodding. "...Yeah. Yeah that's good."

Coriolanus recognized your slight skepticism, and he scowled lightly. "What, that isn't good enough for you?"

"No, no it's good!" you clarified, smiling a little and nodding quickly to punctuate. "It's just...it's a little textbook, don't you think?"

He stared at you for a moment, astonished that you'd dared to contradict him. He'd never had a partner call him out on any of his ideas before, but then again he'd never been paired up with you.

The worst part of it all was that you looked so innocent, looking up at him with those big doe eyes. The earnestness of your expression caught him off guard.

Coriolanus gave you a sharp look. "And did you have a better idea?"

You tilted your head to the side, looking away for a moment as you thought. "Well, if we want to get a good grade, we need to play to Professor Cicero's interests. And one thing I know for sure about her is how much she enjoys perspectives that are a little bit twisted."

"I've just done that with my idea," Coriolanus argued, annoyance building up. "The idea of punishment is one she touches on a lot in her lectures."

"But it's overused," you said calmly. "I'd bet every other group is going to do the same thing."

"Because it's literally the point of the Games," Coriolanus sighed, rubbing his temple. He could feel a headache coming on.

"We don't have to word it like that though," you said, sitting up fully, your knees tucked underneath you.

"So what do you suggest we do?" he asked sarcastically. He was prepared to scoff at whatever your better, more complex idea was.

You were quiet for a minute, and he could practically hear you thinking. Then you fixed your bright blue stare back on him. "I say we talk about how the Games benefit the Capitol, particularly the government. It's like you said, they're to punish the districts, but how exactly?"

Coriolanus raised an eyebrow, not admitting he was a little intrigued.

"The Games strip away the tributes' humanity," you continued, leaning back on your hands. "They show the most raw, primal form of human being. The Capitol does that on purpose. It's meant to show everyone watching what they would be without the government. Hungry, helpless murderers. And it scares the districts into submission, whether they realize it or not. It's basic socio-political ethics, really."

...

He was floored. All this had come from you? And you'd said it so casually, so thoughtfully that it'd come off as modest. He was still staring at you, but now it was for a different reason. Coriolanus was in awe.

Of course he'd always known you were smart, but he didn't know you were this smart. This wasn't regurgitated notes or passages, this was a true, thought out idea.

"Coriolanus?" you tilted your head, moving so your legs were hanging over the side of the bed. "Are you okay?"

He'd been in a daze, but he snapped out of it. "I'm fine."

"What do you think?" You almost looked nervous. It was almost laughable to him that you were worried your brilliant idea would fall flat with him. It was cute, really.

He cursed himself for thinking that last part.

"It's good," he said, keeping his tone even. "Let's use it."

"Really?" A smile broke across your face like the sun breaking through the clouds, and he couldn't help the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly at how happy you seemed that he'd liked it.

"Really," he nodded, squashing the smile away. "It's...it's good."

You bounced a little in your seat, and there was another thing he couldn't help- how adorable he found you.

Suddenly he was noticing all sorts of things about you. The way your hair fell like a curtain on your cheeks when you leaned forward. Your white dress hem riding up centimeters on your smooth thighs, making your legs look long and slender.

Now he was imagining how they would feel wrapped around him. And now he was angry at himself.

"Right. Should we start writing the essay portion?" Coriolanus cleared his throat and asked.

"Sure," you said, reaching for your notebook and pen. His eyes lingered on you a little longer before he turned to face the desk and started to write.

The entire time he was distracted. His opinions were unraveling and reforming into different things. He'd thought you pretentious, but you were clever. And now he was wondering if the rivalry between the two of you was ever even a rivalry at all. Now that he thought about it, you'd certainly never treated him like it was. Your naturally sweet personality had held true during every interaction you'd had with him.

So it hadn't been a rivalry, he realized. Only petty jealousy on his part. And now that he thought about it, attraction.

Coriolanus' paper was becoming increasingly un-well written as he couldn't take his mind off you. His word usage was sloppy, and his thoughts were hardly articulate. Oh well, he thought. It was still better than what some of his borderline illiterate classmates would turn in.

He heard you sit up, and your soft footsteps came up behind him. He could smell your perfume, a familiar scent he'd never found arousing before.

"Are you almost done?" you asked sweetly.

"Ah, yes. Yes I'm finished," Coriolanus said, hurriedly sitting up and shuffling his papers.

You leaned against the desk and he looked at you, finding you angelic as you bit your lip. "Will you read mine? I want to make sure it's good enough."

He nodded, the scent of you putting his head in a spin. He couldn't have said no to you even if he'd wanted to.

You handed the paper over to him, and he read it, his mind able to think clearly when he was reading your words.

It was incredible. No other word for it. The way you wrote was poetic, but it also held the hand of logic, keeping the topic (your brilliant idea) the main focus. It was an essay for artists. Normally he'd find it ridiculous but there was something about knowing you'd written it that made it perfect.

Coriolanus didn't want to articulate this to you, so he simply handed the paper back to you. "It's...it's good."

His words were simple, but she smiled even wider. "You think so?"

"Of course," he said, lips twitching again. "You're a talented writer."

He was itching to be the cause of that smile, and it worked. You lit up immediately. "Thank you Coriolanus."

You stood up straight, but he didn't want you to leave his side. "Will you read mine?"

Nodding eagerly, you took the papers from in front of him. He semi-regretted the decision to ask you to read it because this paper was not his best work, but he figured it would be fine.

Your face was serene as you read, the little smile you'd acquired not leaving. Shifting where you were standing, you absentmindedly shifted toward him, and before he knew it you were in his lap, sitting across his thighs.

His breath hitched, but you didn't notice, continuing your reading. You shifted comfortably in his lap, and looked up at him as you finished the paper, smiling. It seemed to him all you ever did was smile, and he didn't mind it one bit.

"I like it," you said honestly, searching his eyes. "Professor Cicero will definitely love it."

"I don't know about that," Coriolanus laughed lightly.

"She likes everything you do," you smiled again, nudging his shoulder. "It's me she has a problem with."

"That's not true," he said automatically, but as he thought about it, he knew it was. Professor Cicero's favoritism of him was one of the ways he'd been able to feel triumph over her over the years. Here was the one teacher who hadn't fallen for her charm. But now he mourned it.

"She doesn't like anything I do," you shrugged. "But maybe with you as my partner she will." That last hint of optimism seemed to cheer you up a bit. You got off his lap and he wished you'd stayed.

"Perhaps," Coriolanus mused, thinking about it.

His thoughts were interrupted by your bedroom door opening. Your aunt stuck her head in, smiling at him before addressing you. "Dearest, Festus is here to see you."

Coriolanus went into defense. Festus? Festus Creed? The most pretentious, stuck-up snob in their grade was here to see you?

You thanked your aunt and she left, shutting the door behind her. Now you were smoothing your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. You were primping yourself to go visit with Festus Creed?

"Festus Creed?" he inquired politely, trying to quell the raging jealousy within him.

You gave him a sheepish half smile. "Yeah. He comes to see me a couple times a week."

Under normal circumstances he wouldn't have cared. He might've even secretly triumphed that his two least favorite people were taking each other off the market. But now he was disturbed by the idea.

"Are you...together?" he asked, hating that he sounded interested.

"No," you laughed a bit. "Not in the slightest. He'll probably move on to some other girl soon. I just entertain to be polite."

Coriolanus doubted it. Even when he'd hated you he'd known you were the most sought-after girl in your class. Festus was one who liked to have the best, and he likely wouldn't stop until you were his.

"Ah," he pretended to be okay with it.

"I'd better get down there," you said apologetically. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

"No, I'd better head home," Coriolanus said, standing up and putting his things in his bag. He didn't want to stay up here while you were downstairs chatting with Festus Creed.

"I'll walk you out," you offered, and he followed you out the door.

You walked gracefully, holding the banister with one hand and the other holding your skirt. "I think it'll go well. Our presentation."

He agreed. "It will."

"Tomorrow if we just go through the basic points I think we'll get a good grade," you said as the two of you stopped at the front doors. "That and our essays will impress Professor Cicero, I just know it."

Your enthusiasm only made you more endearing to him. He gave you a quick smile and nodded, trying to maintain the cool demeanor that was slipping more every second he spent with you. "I believe it."

The two of you shared a look. You were smiling sweetly. His lips were parted slightly, hand on the strap of his satchel. In that moment he felt so...strongly towards you. It was like a magnet, an unstoppable natural force that called him to you...

But he couldn't act on it. Not now.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said quietly, giving you a quick smile.

"You got it," you said, nudging his shoulder. And then you were gone. Off into the sitting room where Festus was waiting for the privilege of your company.

He breathed easy once he was out the door. You had a strange effect on him, one in which he felt confused, but he also liked it. You were effervescent, nearly magical to him.

Coriolanus took in a breath, then started on his way home. He was going to shut the door to his room and read whatever love poetry he could get his hands on, in the hopes one of them could make him smile like you did.

The next day, you were shaky with nerves.

Coriolanus had never seen you like this. You were always such a ray of sunshine, so excited to even exist, it seemed. But today your knee was bouncing up and down, your lip was pinched between your teeth, and your fists squeezed tight.

The presentations dragged through the class period. The two of you were set to go last, and Coriolanus both praised and cursed Professor Cicero for that. Yours was set to be the best presentation, but it also meant your nerves were going to stew the longer you waited.

As another pair started their oral report, Coriolanus reached out and took your hand, squeezing it softly. Almost immediately, your body went still. You looked up at him, with that irresistible doe eyed gaze, and he melted.

"It's okay," he murmured, squeezing your hand. It was like someone else had taken residency in his brain. This gesture felt so out of character, but so right. To be here, comforting you... he found there was nowhere he'd rather be.

A little smile came to your face. You looked surprised, but you didn't push him away. He held your hand through this presentation, and the next. And then it was your turn.

You let go of his hand, and he reluctantly stood up, following you to the front of the room, setting yourselves under the judgmental gaze of Professor Cicero.

She nodded, the signal to begin. Coriolanus watched you take a deep breath and start to speak.

He marveled at your skill. You had been so nervous before, but nobody would have known it. Your voice was clear, your words eloquent. You spoke in the same way you wrote, he noticed. Poetic and pleasing to the ear, but not without point.

Coriolanus contributed his part as well, but his mind was far from the project. Him from yesterday would have kicked him, but he didn't care. He was completely and utterly captivated by you.

The presentation concluded, and you both turned to Professor Cicero for evaluation. He watched you hold your breath nervously.

"An excellent presentation," Professor Cicero assessed, giving you both a nod.

Your smile lit up your face, and you fidgeted with your hands excitedly. Coriolanus wanted to pull you into him and kiss you senseless.

Professor Cicero rifled through the papers of your essays, then looked up again. "The ideas presented are unique. A fresh take on the purpose of the Games."

Your excitement was growing, as was Coriolanus' need to hold you. He tried to gather himself. "Thank you, Professor Cicero."

"This was clearly well thought out," Professor Cicero continued, setting the papers down. She looked at him. "Mr. Snow? Were these your ideas?"

He froze. You turned to him expectantly, that little smile on your face. And before he knew it, the automatic academic instinct in him took over and the words were flying out of his mouth. "Yes. They were mine."

Instantly, a wave of regret washed over him. Your face fell, the smile completely disappearing from your face.

Professor Cicero took no notice, dismissing them to sit down. He kept his eyes on you, mind racing. Oh he'd really done it now. He'd gone and ruined everything.

As the both of you sat down, he barely heard Professor Cicero's closing remarks, unable to tear his gaze away from you. You sat up straight, eyes determinedly focused on the front of the class.

Professor Cicero dismissed the class, and you stood up instantly, leaving before he could say a word. Coriolanus picked up his bag and moved to follow you, but a voice called from the front of the class.

"Mr. Snow?" Professor Cicero beckoned. "A word?"

Oh no. She'd found him out. She knew he'd taken credit from you. He walked slowly to her desk, like he was marching to his death.

"I just wanted to tell you again what a wonderful presentation you gave today," Professor Cicero smiled, folding her arms on the desk. "You always do a wonderful job in my class, but the thoughts you presented were exceptional."

"Thank you," he said, a little stiffly. The guilt was festering inside him.

"And being paired with Miss Kennedy?" Professor Cicero referred to you. "How did that go?"

"It was...it was good," he confirmed, thinking about the time you'd spent together yesterday and feeling the smallest of smiles come to him. "She's a good partner."

"I'm glad you were able to keep her in check," Professor Cicero nodded. "Miss Kennedy is an accomplished student, to be sure, but her ideas can be a bit...radical. I thought it best for the two of you to be paired up so you could ground her a little."

He was floored, his eyes widening a little. "I wouldn't say radical. She's brilliant."

"For someone of her status, I suppose," Professor Cicero leaned back in her seat. "But girls like her aren't meant to be scholars."

Girls like her...radical...oh no.

He felt dazed and upset. Professor Cicero's prejudice against you hadn't been exaggerated.

"Anyway, an excellent job once again," Professor Cicero said casually, waving her hand as if she hadn't just brazenly insulted the smartest girl in school. "You're dismissed."

Coriolanus left the room feeling worse than he had before. There was a heroic amount of guilt blocking out his other senses. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard, what he'd done.

He spotted you at the end of the hall, speaking with another boy in your class. You looked so beautiful, the afternoon sun spilling through the windows and lighting up your silhouette. The boy you were talking to patted your shoulder and left. You turned around to start walking, but then spotted Coriolanus.

Standing there for a second, he wondered how he should apologize. Groveling maybe? But before he could approach you, you turned on your heel and left, heading out the double doors of the school.

He didn't think about it, he just followed you, briskly walking in the same direction and nearly sprinting down the stairs to catch up.

You must have heard him, but you ignored him, keeping your pace. Coriolanus managed to catch up, nearly out of breath. "Can I explain-?"

"What is there to explain?" you kept your eyes straight ahead.

"I want to apologize," he tried, wanting you to stop, but you didn't.

"For what? For stealing my credit?" you clutched the strap of your bag, trying to walk ahead. "I'd rather not hear it."

"I shouldn't have done that," he murmured.

"No, you shouldn't have," you turned a corner.

Coriolanus followed you. "I acted impulsively-"

"You did, didn't you?" Suddenly you stopped, turning to face him. "You stole my ideas, after I told you that Professor Cicero doesn't take me seriously. You knew that and you did it anyways."

He was silent, letting your words sink in.

You took a step toward him. "What did she say to you? Professor Cicero. I heard her call you back."

His lips parted, surprised. He didn't want to tell you.

"What did she say Coriolanus?" you insisted, your tone firmer than he'd ever heard it.

"She said we did a great job," he said honestly, withholding the rest.

"What else?" you questioned. He cursed your intellect.

"She...said she was glad I was able to keep you in check," he said reluctantly.

You nodded, looking down, your expression hurt, but not surprised. "Let me guess. She said something about how my work is usually far-fetched, and it's probably the best a girl with my background can do."

He was silent, but you must have gathered that you were correct from his expression, because you nodded once, looking like you were about to cry, and turned away, folding your arms over yourself.

Coriolanus felt horrible. He ached to take you into his arms and comfort you for the cruel words Professor Cicero had wrongfully directed at you.

"My ideas are too radical until you have them, is that it?" you said softly.

"Please-" he started.

"The worst part is, you didn't even need to do it," you turned to look at him, and his heart broke. There were tears in your eyes, a stark contrast to how he'd ever seen you before. "What you contributed was good. It would have gotten you the same grade. But you just had to steal what I did."

Every word of what you'd said was correct. You'd always had a gift for hitting things right on the nose. Even though he knew he'd messed up, let his idea of a rivalry ruin things, he wanted to make it right.

"I'm sorry," he said, his words earnest.

You pursed your lips, looking at your shoes, still on the verge of tears. He knew it wasn't enough, but it was a start.

"Let me walk you home," he offered, taking a step toward you.

You inhaled softly. "I'm not going home." Looking back up at him, your other hand found the strap of your bag. "I'll see you later."

He frowned a bit as you started walking, hurrying to catch up. "Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," you said briskly, turning another corner, down an alleyway. Coriolanus hadn't realized you'd were walking at the edge of the city until he saw the line of trees. You were headed for the woods.

"Wait, where are you going?" Coriolanus called, hurrying along beside you. You both crossed the border, stepping from concrete to grass.

"You don't need to follow me," you said, following the forest path.

He trailed behind you, concern growing by the second. "It's not safe out here. There are rebels in the woods."

"I've never come across any," you said simply, ducking under a tree branch.

"You've been out here before?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Yes," you moved gracefully through a patch of grass.

He paused for a second, trying to let that information make sense to him. When it didn't, he continued on, eyeing the gray sky. "It's about to rain."

You stopped, turning to him. "You don't need to follow me. I'm fine."

"It's not safe," he insisted as a raindrop fell on his cheek.

"Go home, Coriolanus," you sighed, turning away and continuing your walk. You ventured off the path, into a patch of trees.

"You can't just go off into the woods by yourself," he huffed, not listening to you. The rain was falling steadily now, and the two of you were quickly getting soaked. He didn't know how far into the woods you were, but it was certainly nowhere near the city.

"You don't say?" you said sarcastically.

"Will you just-" he grabbed your arm, pulling you to turn around. It was pouring rain. Your clothes and hair were soaked, as were his. You looked angelic. The sight of you made him forget what he had originally intended to say.

You stared at him, not pulling your arm away. He looked sincere, worried about you.

"The place I go isn't too far from here," you said quietly. "We can dry off and warm up there."

He pursed his lips and nodded. It wasn't like he knew how to get back from here anyway.

You led him through the grove, parting the leaves of a willow to reveal a little cottage tucked between the trees. He grew more confused by the minute.

"Where are we?" he asked, studying the cottage. It was small, but charming, obviously well kept.

Not answering, you ran your hands along the cracks of the cobblestones, seemingly searching for something. At last, you pulled a key out, unlocking the door. You went inside, leaving it open. Coriolanus hesitantly peered inside, seeing you kneel at a little fireplace, striking a match.

Holding up the little burning stick, you turned your head to face him briefly. "Are you coming?"

He remembered himself, coming inside and shutting the door behind him, setting his school bag beside yours. The cottage only had one room, lined with cabinets on one end and bookshelves on the other. The fireplace you were kneeling at was situated in the center of the room.

Cautiously, Coriolanus knelt beside you. You took off your jacket, folding it neatly to the side. Then you started to unbutton your shirt, and he tilted his head. "What are you doing?"

"We'll catch cold if we stay in our wet clothes," you said, sliding your shirt over your shoulders. He felt his breath quicken at the sight of your bra, a modest, white thing edged with lace, a tiny bow in the middle. You didn't seem to notice this, nodding at him. "Go on, take them off. We can let them dry for awhile."

He'd forgotten how kind you were. Even in your anger with him you were concerned for his well-being. With that thought in mind, Coriolanus stripped himself of his clothes, folding them beside yours. Your underwear matched your bra.

You warmed your hands by the fire, shivering. He noticed your damp skin, your wet hair sticking to your shoulders and back. Coriolanus himself was cold, but he was warming up quickly. You on the other hand were shaking, your thin body not retaining much heat.

He pursed his lips, then opened his arms. "Come here."

You looked over at him, brow furrowing. "What?"

"You'll get warmer faster," he insisted, knowing this to be true, but also secretly giddy at the idea of holding you.

Shaking your head, you looked back at the fire. "I couldn't, I-"

"Please," he said softly, eyes earnest as he looked at you. "I know you're still upset, but I don't want you to freeze."

Sighing, you looked down, considering. Another cold shudder shaking your body made the decision for you. Reluctantly, you crawled closer to him, and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him. His skin was warm, and you couldn't help leaning into him. It was simply too cold, and he was being too kind.

"Better?" he murmured, resting his chin on your head.

"Yes," you admitted. Your hand found a place on his chest as you settled against him. Coriolanus hesitantly moved his hand up to the back of your head, pressing your cheek to his shoulder. You welcomed the change, sighing softly as his body warmed you right up.

He debated saying something, then decided for it. "I...I am sorry. Truly. For what I did. It is inexcusable, as you said. You confided in me and I wasn't sensitive to it."

You were quiet during his apology, and you looked up at him, chin on his shoulder. Your eyes were soft, and you just looked at him for a moment before the corners of your mouth lifted just slightly. "Thank you for apologizing."

"Don't thank me for anything," he murmured, holding your gaze. "I've been cold to you for so long, and you didn't even do anything wrong."

"I understand feeling threatened," you said, lifting your chin from his shoulder. "But it still hurt. Especially when..." you trailed off, looking down. "I thought we were friends. Since yesterday, anyways."

"Right," he murmured, looking down. He tried to ignore his feelings, but having you pressed right against him in this state of undress made things hard. "I suppose I always felt...threatened, in a way by you. Things always seemed to come so naturally to you, especially academically. I fooled myself into thinking we had a rivalry."

"I don't know if I ever thought of it that way," you leaned your head on his shoulder once again. "I just knew you did as well as I did."

"In school perhaps," he mused, resting his head against yours. "But it's not just that. You're successful in the Capitol's social graces as well."

"Well, that has not always come so easily," you laughed a little.

"What do you mean?" Coriolanus secured his arm around your shoulders, keeping you close as you warmed up. "You've been doing this for most of your life, haven't you?"

You shook your head, and he looked down at you. "You haven't?"

"I didn't live in the Capitol my whole life," you said, meeting his eyes. "Moved here when I was...oh I must have been eleven or so."

"Ah." He hadn't known that. "And where did you live before then?"

"Not terribly far from here. It was by the ocean." You turned your head to look into the fire. "My favorite place."

"You lived there with your...aunt?" Coriolanus guessed, remembering the older lady from the day before.

"With my parents," you smiled. "And my sister."

"Sister?" He hadn't known you had a sister. Usually the siblings of the Capitol were presented into society together, especially the women.

"Yes. Margaret," you looked up at him, blue meeting blue. "She was the best."

"Margaret," he tested the name out, hoping he could find it as sweet as you did. He did. "Does she live close?"

"I don't know," you said plainly.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate.

"She left a long time ago," your smile was a little sad now. "I was nine. I haven't seen her since."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his hand on your shoulder absentmindedly stroking up and down. Though not in the same circumstances, he knew the pain of losing someone close.

"It's alright," you said, your head falling back on his shoulder. "I just hope she's happy."

"Did your parents go with her?" Coriolanus asked, before realizing he might be prying. "I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no," you assured him, reaching over and squeezing his other hand. "It's alright."

Your touch had a profound effect on him. He half smiled, eyes on your beautiful face as you continued.

"Like I said, we lived by the ocean." Your eyes were hazy with nostalgia, the light of the fire reflecting in them. The rain was pounding against the roof, the sound seeming to calm you. "In a little cottage on the beach. Me and my parents and Margaret."

He nodded, fingers still tracing your shoulder.

"I can't remember why Margaret left," you continued. "But she did, and then it was just me and my parents. One day I was walking on the beach. They were in the water." You paused, looking down at his hand in yours. "There was a current and they drowned."

Coriolanus was silent. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You, the sweetest girl in the whole Capitol, had a trauma buried in your past that he'd have never guessed. And yet here you were in front of him, forgiving and gracious.

"I'm so sorry," he breathed, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"It's okay, it was a long time ago," you said, smiling in a bittersweet way. "It all worked out. My aunt took me in, and she takes care of me."

"No, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you," Coriolanus shifted you slightly to face him. "All these years. I've been awful to you and you didn't deserve it. Not one bit. And with everything that happened today..."

"Hey," you sat on your knees, kneeling between his legs. "It's okay. we're okay now. Everything that happened today-" You shook your head. "-it doesn't matter. You've apologized, and I know how sorry you are."

"You're brilliant," he said, taking your face in his hands. The gesture caught you a little by surprise, but you smiled slightly. "Yesterday when we were working on the project...I could see it clearly. You're amazing. Smarter than me..."

You laughed a little at that, leaning your cheek into one of his hands. "Really?"

"Don't rub it in," he murmured, and you laughed again. "But yes. And you're also sweet and caring and...I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since yesterday."

"You haven't?" One of your hands came up to grasp his wrist.

"No." Coriolanus shook his head to emphasize. "All these years I thought I hated you. I even admitted I was jealous. But really..."

He paused. He'd started talking without really knowing what he was going to say. So instead, he acted on an impulse and lowered his lips to yours.

Coriolanus' lips molded against yours, touching them softly, hesitantly. Until you started to kiss him back.

At that moment, when you reciprocated, he really started to kiss you. His lips dragged over yours, his thumbs tracing your jawline and bringing you closer. You shivered, not from the cold, but form the way he was touching you, holding you like something precious, something delicate.

The kiss broke off, and your eyes went back and forth between his, smiling slowly. As you did, his lips ghosted softly over yours once, then twice before he opened his eyes.

"You like me now?" you breathed, eyes bright.

"More than like you." His thumb roved over your cheekbone. He was smiling too. "Definitely more than like you."

You let out a little laugh of disbelief, your head falling against his chest. He hugged you close to him, kissing the top of your head. Contently, the two of you laid there for awhile, the fire warming you right up.

When you'd decided you were warm enough, you lifted your head, pressing a brief kiss to his lips before looking over at the door. You frowned. "Did you shut the door all the way?"

"I don't think we need to worry about anyone walking in on us," he muttered, trailing kisses down your neck.

"No." You nudged him off you, standing up. He followed you to the door, watching as you twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. "The door gets stuck when it rains."

"Let me try," he offered. You stepped aside, and he pulled at the handle to no avail. "Ah, I see."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shoulder. "I should have told you before you came in...now we're gonna be stuck here all night."

"That doesn't sound so bad," he mused, arms wrapping around your waist. "It's not like we'll freeze."

"But we- ugh." You gave up, leaning back against him. "I don't know how I could have possibly forgotten."

"It'll be alright," he soothed, rubbing your back. "And besides, now we like each other." Coriolanus smirked slightly. "Whatever will we do all night?"

You laughed, letting him tug you back to the fire, where you remained cuddled in his arms until you both fell asleep.

The next morning the rain had stopped, and the two of you redressed in your clothes, opening the door with ease and walking out into the forest.

Coriolanus couldn't help his smile as he looked down at you, bringing your fingers to his lips as you walked back to the city.

Hand in hand.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coryo x reader #the hunger games fanfiction #president snow #milliesfishes snow #Spotify

[al9ayf]

ᥫ᭡ 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | raphael x f!tav

｡˚ word count: 13.5k

｡˚ summary: tav and raphael have a history together prior to the nautiloid ship. she is to be betrothed to him, but he has something to take to ensure that she is his.

｡˚ a/n: my first bg3 fanfic so i hope u enjoy !! raphael is my favorite character and i wish u could romance him but oh well. anyway i will probably write more with this specific pair because i want to dive more into this relationship and story. i think it is very interesting.

｡˚ explicit content :: non-consensual (beginning), spitting, blood, p in v, dick sucking, ass smacking, pussy eating, intoxication, stealing virginity

the cold air finds solace in the cracks of your lips, and you would have shivered if not for the wyvern whiskey rushing through your veins. it becomes the warm pair of arms you’ve felt so many times before: like it was your mother embracing you all over again. you feel her hold you from behind and squeeze you tight as if she’s scared to let you go. but you were the one who was so scared. you miss that warmth that she brings you, that gratitude and happiness. and instead of finding it with her, you find it in this near-empty bottle. it gave you that false security and happiness, but it was shameful. it’s sinful how much it makes your cheeks flush and eases your mind. yet despite it all, it relaxes you.

the bottle is in one hand, raised high as you stretch your limbs. your free hand reaches as far back as it can to grasp at nothing before both hands come back down as you quit your groaning and stretching. you finally set the whiskey down on the table in front of you before you can indulge in it any further. you stare at it for a moment, pondering taking another sip, but you turn around and walk away. it was a sinful act—one you shouldn’t be enjoying but cannot help but do. as more time passes and the fear of the absolute taking control over everything creeps into your mind, you feel guilty about not praying to your gods and instead turning to drinking. but you can’t help it, can you? your prayers weren’t being answered. and they haven’t been answered in a very long time.

but tonight you stopped yourself. tonight, halsin had stepped in and expressed his concerns over the habit. he was the one who convinced you to set that bottle down and seek some time with nature. and maybe, just maybe, he was right. maybe that time with nature is just what you need, and not an addiction.

so you walked away from your companions to stand at the lake a few paces away. you occupied your busy mind by embracing mother nature’s gift and taking in your surroundings. but it was difficult to do since it was dark save for the light of the full moon, the fire from your camp, and the lights of the city. your eyes had wandered into the deep woods across the dark waters where no sound came from. it was dark and empty, much like the world around you.

the people of baldur’s gate needed a sober savior, not a drunken one. and tonight, you had somewhat of a clear mind for once.

you groaned and rubbed your face with your hands, specifically your eyes. you rubbed them especially hard and then looked back out at the water. it was peaceful—not a single ripple affecting its stillness. if only your mind could have the same effect. the tadpole is never quiet, and so is the emperor. with every thought that crosses your mind, he feels it. he knows it. but you don’t know if he is actively peering into it. if you were dumb enough, you could say the thrall had no particular interest in you. but you weren’t dumb, and you could tell that he wanted something more than just companionship.

but you couldn’t blame him. you were a very popular suitor for marriage.

you came from a noble family in baldur’s gate before getting snatched away by the illithid. you had a life promised to you granted the fact you would be married off to an asshole. but no asshole in baldur’s gate could ever compare to the one who has since come into your life at the ripe age of fifteen. he was unlike any other—with an attitude rivaling that of the gods and martyrs, and an ego so high it reached the peak of mount celestia. the devil was that man.

you only think of him because you can smell him; the sulfur. when you think of him he always appears, almost as if he’s the emperor himself. guaranteed though, the devil has always had great timing. but you have felt his eyes long enough on you tonight, and it is now that he makes himself present to you. he’s inviting you to converse with him. you turn around to catch where he is standing, but he’s not there. in that moment, you think back to the time you read a children’s book about how the devil loved to play games. and now as an adult, you realize that they only loved to play games they knew they could win. and that is how the devil knew he could win your heart and mind over so easily.

you then feel two warm hands cover your eyes. you don’t move. at first, you suspect it is astarion playing tricks on you, but then remember the only person that knew you were here alone was raphael. goosebumps run up your spine at the realization that he has gotten this close to you without you realizing it, and it makes you flinch. you could feel his smirk forming at the mere sight of you jerking under his touch. the soon-to-be hero of baldur’s gate flinching under the warm touch of the devil? it sounds pathetic after your adventures with gods and powerful enemies.

“my, my, what have we here?”

his voice is loud enough for your ears only to not alert your companions who are only a few meters away. you just so happen to be in a more private spot at the camp where the lake lies, and of course, raphael had to take advantage. too many questions would be asked if everybody saw the two of you together, alone, for they did not know your history prior to the nautiloid ship. it would be more of a nuisance to you than to him.

he removes his hands and you quickly turn around to look at him. it has been quite a time since you last saw him. and although you have changed, he hasn’t. not one bit. not a scratch on his hand, a blood splatter on his face, or a bruise. he is exhilarated, and you are exhausted. but at the mere sight of him, you feel more awake than ever. there is no need for alcohol, nature, or prayers when you have him. and you almost regret comparing prayers to being in the company of the devil; almost regret.

when you first met raphael it was at a masquerade ball held by your parents. they were devout followers of the heavens, and somehow, in some way, he managed to become a close confidant of theirs. of course, your parents never knew who he was, and probably never will. he never had any interest in your parents, but rather in you. you had no interest in raphael either—but that was only when you first met him. your opinion since then has changed, but you refused to admit it aloud to yourself or him. especially not him because it would fuel his big ego even more. even the day before you were kidnapped when he had asked for your hand in marriage, you still would not admit your feelings to him. but why would he want your hand anyway? you are no devil. you are no god. you aren’t a person of importance to him at all. just a pawn in his game of lanceboard, and he was the king.

but when it dawned on you now why he wanted to marry you, it all became clear. when he invited you and your party to his house of hope to accept his deal. when he kept playing nice to win that game of trust. when he spun you back into his embrace, alone, in that dining room of his and confessed to you, and you only, that you were the only person to secure the crown of karsus for him. only then, did you realize he only wanted to marry you to seal you in a contract forever. in a debt, forever. to trick your parents into signing a deal with the devil when they had dedicated their entire lives to their gods. to be one with them in mount celestia. the utmost betrayal would be marrying their only daughter off to a cambion, the heir and child of mephistopheles. and you too, would be the greatest sinner this world has ever laid eyes on. a young woman of god, making love and producing heirs for the devil.

only then did you realize how important of a pawn you would be. a pawn that would reach the end board and become a queen, just to be discarded after checking the enemy king. and after knowing the truth, you did not pray to your gods for help, no. you turned to a more sinful life. killing to save yourself. deceiving others for the benefit of surviving. drinking yourself away and losing any purity you had to you. allowing a vampire to suck your blood, allowing lustful visions of a wizard and druid to creep into your dreams as you try to sleep, and allowing a githyanki warrior to speak to you like a whore in a brothel. when you entertain those actions instead of stopping them, you realize how sinful of a child you have become.

but now, to have the devil have his hold on you? to allow him to hold you like your mother. to let his words rush through your veins as if it were drinking wyvern whiskey. raphael has played tricks and games on you ever since you were fifteen, and now, only now, does your heart succumb to the devil after years of resistance. do you blame it on the tadpole or yourself? when you look into his brown eyes that disguise his true golden, orange ones you see a flicker of fire and trickery. you shiver at the mere thought of when he first presented the idea of marriage to you while your parents happily stood by him. when he had looked at you in that moment and you swore you saw yourself in prison bars in the reflection of his beautiful eyes.

you swore when your parents had agreed to the idea you felt chains wrap around your whole body. back then, you didn’t know that raphael was a devil. all you knew was that he was a cunning man only put there to deceive your parents for whatever selfish reasons he had. you had compared him to the devil once before because all you saw was a man who would own you for the rest of your days. the devil that would ruin you with just one look.

and ruin you he did.

you want to say you hate him. you want to hate the devil and love the gods. to imagine yourself in the embrace of the clouds of mount celestia and lay there in an eternal slumber of bliss and peace. but you have found yourself in hell first. you have found yourself falling for the devil each moment you think of him. his red skin, his fire eyes, and his four horns that lay perfectly perched on the top of his head. and in his human form, a man who knows of only wise things and deceitfulness. raphael knows, and he knows very well, that you are enjoying him with each appearance of his that he makes to you. whether it be a quick whir of the moment with you privately or a public appearance to all. he sees the way you look at him with less hate and with more awe. how you stop presenting yourself with that heroic look of yours and almost bow to his mere presence. how tense you look when he gives you the most attention out of everybody.

nobody knows that you are engaged to the devil. it would cause quite a stir in your camp if they ever were to find out.

that is why when he holds you, you stop resisting. you enjoy it when he flatters you and makes you blush. you enjoy the games he plays. your late-night visits to the vampire’s tent stop, your sinful thoughts of the wizard and druid stop, and the githyanki’s comments come to a halt. for you retire to bed alone now and think only of the devil. you don’t touch yourself because you think acting on it is how it becomes a sin, and just merely thinking about it happening is alright. but you have tricked yourself just like how the devil plays tricks. the greatest sin of all is entertaining the thought of being with the devil in more ways than one.

and you want to blame all of it on raphael, but he has cast no spells on you or devilish incantations or rituals. it was only your behavior that forced you to stray away from the gods of celestia. a behavior only you had complete control of.

so why do you keep doing it? do you enjoy him so much? you do not know him. you will never know him.

“has the little mouse found herself a new toy to play with?” raphael asks, circling you like a cat. has he been watching you converse with halsin all night? his movements are precise, and his strides are long. he stops behind you again, and this time you don’t turn. the more you look at him, the more you feel you sin. you feel a shiver run up your spine when he traces his finger from the back of your neck down to your tailbone.

“don’t touch me,” you thought you said in a demanding voice, but it came out as a broken whisper.

raphael only laughs though at the pity attempt and retracts his hand from your body. you have no right to speak to him in that manner. you, after all, are nothing compared to him. you are just a person whom he will marry once he returns you to your parents back in baldur’s gate. he will have you in that contract before you do anything to get out of it. you will be his, forever, and so he will have his hands on you whenever he wants to.

“that’s no way to speak to your fiancée now, is it?” he asks.

you don’t say anything. you just stare at the dancing shadows of your companions by the campfire in the middle of your camp. how you long to run to them to escape his clutches. and you can. it is so easy to. he is not holding you back, and has even allowed you to run to them. that is why he purposefully stands behind you to play that game once again: the game of tag. the game that you will never win with him because it’s not a game he always wins, but a game you always purposefully lose. you lie to yourself, but in your heart, you want to be in his presence, always.

raphael frowns when you don’t say or do anything, but his frown turns into a grimaced look on his face as he grabs your wrist and spins you around to look at him. you gasp as you bump into his chest, and he grabs your chin to force you to look up at him. you quickly try to pull away, but he holds onto you tighter. he could break your wrist so easily right now, and snap your neck in one swift movement.

“you will face me when i speak to you.”

and you can only nod out of respect. respect? raphael rubs your bottom lip and smiles again. “see, my love? it isn’t hard to listen to me. i promise it will make your time with me much easier.”

he leans in close to your ear and moves his hand that grab your chin to your hips. “you do not want me to punish you so early on in our relationship, hm?”

you are powerless against him. you have fought countless enemies, slaughtered them even. you have fought a chosen of the dead three and killed a god. you have faced the githyanki queen and rid of the shadow curse. but when it comes to the cambion, you are nothing. and maybe you like to be nothing.

it’s difficult when you move your head to look at him. you want to talk but he has you at a loss for words. you can only abide by him. “why are you here, raphael?” you ask.

“why, to see you of course.”

“but why?”

your voice has that hint of urgency—but why? raphael can only smile wider because he knows it’s from your fear of somebody walking in on the two of you. most likely it will be halsin to check on you after you have stayed quiet for far too long. you gulp.

“you’re paranoid, aren’t you? scared that one of your so-called friends will happen across the two of us in a warm embrace. what ever will they do when i tell them that you are betrothed—to me.”

you look away again but then quickly look back up at him. you do not want to anger him, and you do not want him to tease you.

“one feels so exposed out here, raphael…” you murmur. your voice is low enough for his ears only. you were made for him. “please, don’t be loud.”

you beg. you only ever beg for him, and he knows. he watches you more than your companions watch your back. he knows your every curve and every move. he knows what position you like to sleep in, and what food you dislike least when it is time to eat. he knows that one strand of hair that always annoys you during battle, and when you are about to menstruate. he knows everything about you. you have never begged for anything in your life, but when he is with you, you are born anew.

it would bring such joy to raphael for everyone to see the scandalous position you have put yourself in. all it takes is for one loud word to come out of him. maybe step out into the light and bring all attention to him. maybe call out to one of your friends and bring them here to witness your broken self. but he keeps that luxury of your humiliation to himself and his house of hope. neither your parents, servants, nor your friends can experience it—only him. only he is allowed to hear your begging. but my oh my, would it make him smile to see you break down in front of everybody. to see them lose faith in their leader when they watch you beg a devil to shut his mouth. to see you collapse on your knees in front of him like the slave you are.

“a little louder, love, just enough to have your friends wondering what you are doing out here all alone,” he smirks.

“raphael, please…”

he doesn’t do anything. he doesn’t say anything. you can barely raise an octave because you are so afraid of exposing yourselves. but at the same time, he is irritating you to a surprising level, even to him.

“take me to your house of hope, we will talk there,” you almost cry. “please, raphael.”

“louder,” he demands. you cannot say no.

you grab at his collar tightly and look right into his eyes. you want to shake him and suffocate him. you are tired of his games, but you still play them. you are tired of yourself. but even when you threaten to cry, he doesn’t move. why would he care about your feelings? even if you harm yourself in front of him and threaten to kill yourself, he still won’t care. after all, he has told you that there is always another after you to take the crown, even if it takes millennia.

“raphael, please!” you yell, almost too loud for your liking.

you hear your name being called out by a certain someone almost immediately, and you whip your head in the direction of the camp. wyll was coming. was it not loud enough for raphael? you know he can hear the speed of your heartbeat quicken with every second that passes. he’s waiting. he wants to make you panic even more. and as wyll’s footsteps get louder, you tighten your grip around raphael’s clothes even more. your tears gather in your eyes. how could you be so vulnerable and so easily manipulated? it was so degrading.

and right as wyll’s devilish horns peek into your view, you are whipped away just like that with the snap of raphael’s fingers. wyll comes into the darkness of where you once stood only to find nothing. he turns to look back at his companions who are mindlessly doing their nightly routine, then back at where he thought he heard your voice. when the smell of sulfur enters his nostrils, he scrunches it in disgust. the cambion was with you, and now you both are not there anymore. wyll, despite his disgust at the devil, respects what private business you have with him. he will take the night shift if you are not back before sunrise, but he prays you do not do anything rash without discussing it first with everybody.

you find yourself still in raphael’s arms in his house of hope. the room is all too familiar when you step away from him and sit down on a lavish chair, panting heavily. the large portrait of raphael hangs above you, just as he is right now in his devilish form in the room he first took you and your party to. the feast hall now has skeletons riddling it with plates of rotten food. the stench almost makes you gag, but you stop yourself from pleasuring raphael with such a reaction.

he laughs at the pitiful sight of you. you now have freshly dried tears staining your cheeks and a heavy heart. it upsets you even further how you have succumbed to the devil’s doing so very easily every time.

“you really are my favorite client,” he says joyfully. “i enjoy every minute of you.”

“i wish i could say the same,” you say, looking up at him.

“now, now. don’t be like that, my dear. we don’t want such negativity right now, do we? after all, we have much to discuss.”

he extends a hand out to you. you look at it. you take it. and it burns pleasurably in your grasp as he helps you up from the chair and leads you out of the feast hall. you have not once left his fancy and furbished feast hall, but the corridors of his house look just as exquisite. he lets go of your hand the moment you step out into the hallway. in silence, the both of you walk to gods knows where. you are nervous.

“you never answered my question,” you remind him respectfully.

“you have asked many questions,” he said with such tease.

“but to you, only one.”

he stops outside of a door that a servant is peering into. he smiles down at you.

“you cannot outsmart the devil, my dear girl. there’s this little voice inside of you asking: “is this my will, or is it the worm’s?” but you have no answer, and no way of knowing.”

before you can say anything, he snaps his fingers and you are now inside of the room, but on the balcony still facing him. your heart quickens again, and it is only pumping the fuel in his veins.

“i have this picture in my head—of you tossing and turning in the middle of the night, thinking strange things, dreaming strange dreams. the good thing is, though, there’s only one little voice you should listen to.”

he grabs your chin and leans in close again. your breath hitches in your throat and you suddenly feel that you can’t breathe anymore.

“mine.”

he slowly backs away yet you still feel breathless. you take deep breaths in and deep breaths out. raphael chuckles.

“but ah, where were we?” he turns to look out his balcony and out into the views of avernus. “about you…”

you go up next to him, still looking at him. he intrigues you more than you would like to admit to.

“do you not have any idea as to why you are here?” he asks.

“no, i don’t.”

“take a look around then, my lost virgin. look and you will know.”

you don’t want to look. you don’t want to know. you want to go back home and hide yourself away from the world forever. you want to fall back into your mother’s arms and stay there until you take your last breath. but you can’t do that. instead, you do as he says. raphael takes pleasure in seeing you obey his every word. as you turn around and start heading into the room, you spot a lavish red bed next to where you are standing, as well as countless paintings of raphael again. behind a screen is a large tub with multiple fountains, and there are lavish items strewn across the room. and that is all. this is a room just for pleasure and nothing else. it clicks in your head why you are here when you think back to what raphael has called you, and why he has brought you into this room specifically. one of the greatest sins of all.

“you’re so very pathetic, love,” he says, now right behind you.

the insult doesn’t sting you anymore. it is the way his hands hold your hips that does, and you step away from him and back yourself up into the bed. it makes him raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“you’re an eager little pup, aren’t you?” he asked, coming closer.

you extend a hand out to stop him from coming onto you, and it comes in contact with his chest. he stops for his entertainment, and not because you wish him to. it is a dangerous game to play: trying to tell the devil what to do.

“is that why you came to me tonight? to have sex with me?”

“does it sound so terrible?” raphael asks, placing his hand on his chin. “i will not have the patience or time for your virginity when i claim the crown. tonight, you just so happened to make my day now that you are one step closer to the brain. tonight, i will wreak havoc upon your body and you will find the utmost pleasure in it.”

he mocks you. he mocks you because he knows pre-marital sex is a large sin you can easily avoid. having sex with the devil makes it even worse. the gods will never forgive you, raphael knows this, and it is the only reason why he wants to have your body now. to humiliate you in front of the gods and to ruin you. you know he has another to sleep with who could take on the form of whoever he pleases. he could have sex with an incubus posing as you, but tonight, he wants the real delight of breaking you. he doesn’t care about your faith or your mission. right now, all raphael cares about is destroying whatever purity you have left in you.

you try to push him away but he grabs your wrist easily. “your gods left you the second your mind started to fill with dirty thoughts of me,” he says. raphael grabs both of your wrists and pins you to the bed. he moves them above your head and crosses them to hold your wrists in one hand, while the other grabs your chin again. you frantically move your head but it doesn’t do much.

“they say the eyes are the windows to the soul. and when i look into yours, i see all of your greatest desires,” he says. “but there is one that stays in your mind. it is what you call your strange dreams and your strange thoughts. the image of me.”

he inhales your scent and it excites him. the scent of a virgin.

“no longer will it be strange imaginations, my dear, but a nightmare come true.”

he leans down and kisses you with a force so strong it catches the breath in your throat. you’ve never been kissed before. as a young girl, you’ve always dreamt of your first kiss to be with your husband during your wedding underneath the stars. to look upon his eyes on a beautiful, clear night in the backyard of your palace as you lean in for the perfect kiss. and for raphael to take it all away from you, just so easily as that, forcefully too, was a cruel joke. you want to hate him for it, you really do, but your body betrays your mind and kisses back. you enjoy this. you enjoy his heated kiss and his devilish touches against your skin greatly.

raphael pulls away, but not without biting your lower lip first and tugging at it with his sharp teeth to draw blood. you whine and pull your head back, and he laughs. he moves away again and lets go of you, but you are so flustered and heated from that kiss that you just lay there sprawled out on his bed. raphael smiles.

“agree to be mine and you will know pleasure, forever,” he says. “you will know what it is like to live lavishly in the comfort of my house of hope. under my protection.”

you shake your head. you don’t know why you shake it, but it is mostly because you want him on you again. you want him to bite you like that. to be rough. but then you realize what you just did and what you just thought. and your blood runs cold. these impulses do not act on your own accord… or do they?

raphael smirks again. “maybe if i show you, you will agree.”

he snaps his fingers and your clothes are off. you try to cover yourself immediately, horribly flustered as to what he just did. nobody has seen you naked, except for your servants and now the devil. you curl into a ball but it doesn’t last for long. raphael snaps his fingers again and ropes from the headboard of the bed appear and grab onto your wrists, dragging you to the middle. raphael stands in front of the bed now, but your legs are propped up to hide yourself from him. you are breathing hard and almost on the verge of tears. this isn’t real. it can’t be real. not with the devil!

“tsk, tsk. we can’t have you be like this the whole time.”

he snaps his fingers again and ropes now grab your ankles and spread your legs apart. you yell in surprise and now struggle to hide yourself. it doesn’t work, but raphael is loving every bit of it. you throw your head back into the pillow and squeeze your eyes shut.

“leave me to my gods and heavens, and i will give you the crown of karsus!” you yell. “that is my deal!”

“that’s not how it works, dear,” he says. “your gods have already abandoned you. you have committed far too many sins for them to forgive you. there is no place for you in those white clouds, but there is here. you’re sitting on it already, my little mouse. you have found yourself down here—with me. and that is where you will always be.”

“liar!”

he gets on the bed in between your legs, and you flinch when his leg comes in contact with your thigh. “i have never lied to you, my dear. i have only ever told you the truth.”

he leans over you, hands on either side of your head. you are completely held down. hands held above your head and legs spread apart all for him, and it will only ever be for him. nobody will ever see you like this, and nobody will have you like this. your heart is beating so fast from anxiety and nervousness that you can barely breathe. raphael kisses you again, and you can’t help but kiss back. you lie to his face but the truth is in your heart. you say to him you don’t want him, but you do. your body lights up like a flame every time he touches you. it reacts in ways you never thought possible. raphael knows you want him even if you say you don’t. it’s so obvious.

he stops kissing you and you find yourself chasing after his lips for more. raphael laughs in your face and sits back up.

“the day i met you, i remember everything, i wrote it down,” he says, grabbing your chin with one hand and lifting it.

his tone changes and so does your body language. this was a poem you had written about him after you had met him the first time. a poem you had written over and over and scratched it out for years before finding it again. and when he took you to his house of hope for the first time, and nightfall came, you took out a quill and paper and continued it on your little stool you had in your tent. you finished it in mere minutes, and from then on always carried it around with you in your pack. you want to say you don’t know why you do so but you do know. it’s because you are infatuated with him. maybe that’s when it all started. when your prayers stopped being answered and the only company that you had was him. maybe when your heart wanted him is when the seven martyrs abandoned you. you were damned. but you didn’t want this to happen. you didn’t want to fall for the devil, and yet here you are, not resisting his attempt to take you as his.

“your smile was cold, your hair was fresh,”

he moves a stray strand of your hair out of your face and cups your cheek. his nail is under your eye, and you feel it dig into your skin, warning you not to move unless you want a new puncture wound. you hold very still and listen closely to your poem coming out of his lips.

“your eyes were such a shade of brown,”

he moved his hand away and slid it down your body slowly. you jolted when his finger slipped in between the space of your breasts and stayed there, touching the soft skin. you wanted to look away so badly to hide your shame and embarrassment, but his eye contact with you was so strong you couldn’t. you had to relax under that devilish gaze.

“you press your ear onto my chest,”

he moved his hand to your left breast and squeezed your nipple, hard. you gasped at the pain and tried to move away from him, but the ropes only got tighter around your wrists and it only made you cry out in pain. raphael used his other hand to do the same with your right breast, and its pleasure was so intolerable you couldn’t help but thrust your hips upwards to meet his thigh. you wanted him, but also wanted away from him. make up your mind, damn you.

“you hear the speed my heart will beat,”

he kisses your breast and circles his tongue around it in an unholy way. you sigh in pure delight and throw your head back into the pillow, enjoying it so very much. your cunt aches for any sort of touch or penetration. it tingles your whole body, and yet he only flicks the hard bud slowly. it is a torture but you don’t want to beg for him more than you already did tonight. but this is the devil, and begging for them was a passing time they very much enjoyed.

finally, he sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin and you moan for him. you ride the air and toss your head from side to side. he knows what he is doing. he knows the pleasures of the female body. oh, you love it so much. you love the pleasure of sin he brings upon you. raphael kisses your breast one last time and then moves his finger down your body.

“seconds drag like days whenever you don’t want to talk or speak.”

his finger finds your clit with ease and rubs gentle circles on it. you are already wet and have been for quite a while. it’s shameful, sinful, and embarrassing. you shiver in delight under his touch and cry out a moan. you don’t want him to stop. the feeling is too good. a feeling you have only given to yourself, but now feels much better when another is giving it to you. raphael stops when he notices you are enjoying yourself far too much, and quickly moves his hand away.

“raphael…” you whisper, breathless. if this is only a small slither of real pleasure, you cannot imagine what he has waiting for you. for a second, you don’t care whether it be full of pain. you want that carnal release.

“this can be your life, my little mouse,” he says. “a place of protection and pleasure, and of course, most importantly, a place by my side forever.”

you don’t say anything. you just stare at him with half-lidded eyes and a distressed look on your face.

“and if i refuse?” you ask.

he leans in close to you again, still holding that infamous smirk of his. “i find it very hard to believe that you want to refuse me. not when your body reacts so beautifully to my touches.”

his hand grazes your nipple again and you shiver. he only proves his point easily by doing that, and you still don’t want to say anything. raphael is a patient man, you will give him that, but when his patience runs thin and you spot his brows furrowing… you want to run. he has entertained you long enough tonight, and now you will experience his rage. in more ways than one, he will destroy you. he will make you scream his name until your vocal cords have been destroyed. you will beg for his mercy and he will not give it. you will beg for him to stop, and he will not, for you have danced around his deal for days now and tonight was the end of that. he will show you what it means to mess with the son of mephistopheles.

you will no longer be a virgin with wings. no longer will you be a devout follower of heavenly martyrs, but a devoted wife to the cambion. to the devil raphael. to the man who will ruin you over and over again. you will give him the crown of karsus and bear his children, and forever live your life as his slave. and maybe, just maybe, it seems so pleasurable and delightful.

he snaps his fingers and now all of his clothes are off. you become wetter by the second as you take in his body. his cock, thick and large, just waiting to be thrusted inside of you. how will your virginal self ever be able to take that in one night? you have never even slipped a finger inside of you before. fear clouds your eyes and now you are scared to take him in. but raphael doesn’t care about your pain, he only cares about his pleasure.

“look at you, dripping wet all for me,” he rubs his knuckle in your wetness, teasing you. you hum in reply, enjoying the feeling. raphael rubs small circles around your most sensitive areas, eliciting soft moans and whimpers from your moist lips. he is preparing you for what is to come. that is the least he can do for you.

he slides a long finger in you, pumping it in and out slowly just to see your reaction. you shift uncomfortably, unsure of the feeling. raphael smirks and moves it in further, noticing that you had already ripped your hymen (most likely from outdoing yourself in a battle). you moan when he goes past it, finally feeling that pleasurable spot you never had experienced yourself. he suddenly inserts another finger, stretching you out more. it hurts and you tear up from the pain. the pleasure has gone and all you feel now is his fingers roughly hitting the spongey area inside of you.

“it hurts!” you cry, shutting your eyes and allowing your tears to fall. and this is just the beginning as well. you allow him to continue though, not bothering to thrash your body to force his fingers out of you. because the more he pumps and lets you adjust to it, the more pleasurable it becomes.

a pair of footsteps comes entering the room, and you hear a familiar chuckle coming from beside you. you open up your eyes to see what appears to be a younger-looking raphael bent down beside your head, smiling at you sadistically. you don’t give much of a reaction. you only look at him, then at the devil between your legs readying you for the loss of your virginity.

“my, my, what a pretty one,” the fake raphael smiles. “is she the one you speak so highly of? the lost virgin with wings?”

raphael only rolls his eyes at the incubus and then removes his fingers from inside of you. you feel empty all of a sudden, but when he pushes you up further against the bed, allowing the ropes to untangle around your ankles, you see him bend down and spread your legs even further apart. you try to back yourself up but his grip on your thighs tightens. your ankles have been freed, and yet you do not try to kick him. you instead relax in his touch and sink into the fine silks of his large bed.

“i will break her and clip her wings,” raphael says, moving his head closer to your cunt. “i will take her virginity and claim her as mine, haarlep.” he suddenly snaps his head to look at the incubus. “leave.”

his voice was demanding. he wasn’t inviting haarlep to tease him or play with him. he was serious, and with a grin and wave, the incubus left without another word. raphael probably instilled an indescribable fear in him. a silent fear. a hushed one. yet you do not feel any fear from that voice of his. only an ache you’ve never felt before. an ache that leaves you wet.

raphael notices almost immediately, and without a word or warning, dives his head in between your legs and kisses your cunt. you jolt at the light touch and sigh all at the same time. it feels so good.

“you are mine, little mouse,” he says. “do you understand?”

you open your mouth to say “never”, but he places his lips back on your folds and you moan loudly. his tongue laps up your wetness over and over again, and it tickles your whole body. you bite your lip to stop yourself from being too loud, to attract anybody from coming and peeking, but you can’t help it. you moan out his name, and he moves his lips from your folds to your clit and sucks on it.

the sensation was something you’ve never felt before in your life. you tried to shut your legs on him, to stop him from sucking too much but his hold on you is so strong.

“raphael!” you moaned. you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back. he brings one of your legs over his shoulder to spread your legs even further, and it makes it all the better. he only sucks on it more and more and you try to thrash around to get away from him, but it doesn’t work. it felt so good, but it was all too much. it was so much pleasure that at one point, the nerves stopped, and you finally felt it.

you lay back down comfortably and sigh delightfully. raphael pulls away but quickly sticks a finger in you, thrusting in and out at a rapid pace. it feels good too but his tongue feels better, and so does his lips. you whine his name and buck your hips toward his face. he laughs at the pitiful state you’re in. you’re so humiliating when your bottom lip is all pouty, your body responds to his every touch, and the way sweat is already glistening on your skin. your cunt clenches around his one finger tightly, and all raphael can think about is how great it will feel to be in you. to rip apart your insides and finally claim you as his. to convince you, finally, to marry him before you defeat the brain. to have you sign a contract bound in blood, make you one of his, and forever be at his side. to secure the crown of karsus and a powerful ally all in one move.

he slips a second finger in and you squeal, arching your back again off the bed as you start to now cry a little. but he does not care. he knows you want his lips back on you, and not his fingers anymore. but dear, you need to be prepared for him.

“raphael…” you whine again.

“say it.”

his voice is deep and the thrusting of his fingers intensifies. it’s rough and it hurts. his nails scratch against the walls of your cunt and it makes you bleed. you can feel it, but you can’t see it. it hurts more than it brings pleasure, but you don’t want to admit anything. you bite the inside of your lip and lean your head back against the pillow to shut up. you won’t say it.

“little mouse, that won’t work…”

he presses his thumb against your clit and rubs painfully, slow circles on it. you gasp and hide your head behind your arm as best as possible, but the more he does it, the less you can keep quiet. the roughness of his fingers but the gentleness of his thumb breaks out a delight in you. you don’t want it to end. you want more and more. this is all you’ve ever dreamed of.

and you break easily. because that is all it takes for him to claim you that fast.

“i’m yours,” you quietly moan in the comfort of your arm.

he moves his head back down. “say it louder, my dear. say it louder so the heavenly martyrs can hear you from down here, and know that i have plucked one of their angels. they will know how i clipped your wings and stole your virginity.”

he places his lips back on your clit and you yell. you’re smiling. “i’m yours, raphael!” you moan, bucking your hips into his mouth. “forever!”

the ties around your wrists come undone and your hands shoot to his horns, grabbing them to drag him closer to you. you’re moaning louder than ever before, and you believe that the heavenly martyrs can truly hear you. raphael, the cambion, has finally claimed you. and all it took was his tongue.

you grind your hips into his face, moaning as he keeps on sucking on your clit. his tongue occasionally licking at it to never stop the waves of pleasure crashing into you. you want more and more. you don’t want him to stop. you can stay like this, forever, and never want to leave. raphael is right. all you could ever want is here, right in his house of hope. and that all you could ever want and need will be fulfilled by him.

your movements get more erratic the more you feel the pit in your stomach tighten. your movements get faster but sloppier, and you feel yourself about to cum. but raphael stops and moves away. he pushes you away from him and you shut your legs almost immediately, embarrassed as to how he pushes you aside. you see your wetness on his lips and it makes you flustered and your body heat up. but that pit in your stomach dies down, and now all pleasure is lost. you feel defeated and upset. unsatisfied.

“why?” is all you can ask.

raphael snaps his fingers and your places have been switched. now he lays comfortably with his back against his mountain of pillows, while you are at the edge of the bed. you finally can see his erection in all its glory. how your moaning and face fucking lead to this. how his cock will soon be buried inside of you any moment now, and it will be the worst yet best pain of your life. his cock will take your old self away. it’ll take your virginity, and all that will be left of you will be his. and you have never been so eager.

“have you touched yourself before, my dear?” he asks.

you can’t help but stare shockingly into his orange eyes. he was absurd. and so you nod, but then he snaps his fingers again and you find yourself now sitting on his lap. he grabs your throat tightly and moves you back. your last gasp of air leaves your lips, and you grab his hands to stop him from squeezing anymore. you couldn’t breathe.

“you have a tongue still. speak.”

his grip loosens just enough for you to use your words.

“yes,”

“have you ever touched anybody else?”

“no, raphael…”

he smiles at your answer and moves his hand from your throat to your head. he pushes you lower and lower until your face is up close to his erection. he runs his hand through your hair and grabs a thick chunk of it, tugging it to force you to look up at him again.

“then tonight, darling, i will break that. and if you satisfy me enough, i’ll give you the release you so desperately want. but only if you are a good little mouse.”

he caresses your cheek and smiles a little more. “and i won’t stop. you will beg and you will cry, but i will not stop until i’ve had my fill. then, i will ruin you…”

he moves his hand back to your hair and guides your head down to his dick. you don’t know what to do. you grab it so gently and place your other hand on his abdomen as you press your lips to the tip of it. you swirl your tongue around it before licking up its length. he’s quiet though, and it’s unnerving. you quickly take him into your mouth without another thought and start bobbing your head up and down his length. finally, raphael lets out a content sigh and pushes a few strands of hair out of your face.

it makes you wet knowing he likes it. that he enjoys your mouth on him, just as you did with his. you move your hand up and down at a good pace, not too slow nor too fast. you don’t want to tease him but you don’t want to try and finish him fast. you want to know what he likes. you want to explore his body as he does yours. you truly believe in your heart and mind that this will not be the last time you will be on your knees and stomach for him. and you’ll gladly do it over and over again.

he is hot; a cool burning to the inside of your mouth. it burns pleasurably, a feeling that is difficult to describe. you lose control over any willpower to run out of there, and to god knows where. your body melts into the bed as you mindlessly suck on him. you want all of him against you and in you. you take him in deeper and deeper and move your hand faster and faster.

it is quite a surprise how good you were. how fast you were able to discover what made him groan and jolt under your touch. his hands grip your hair tighter than before and you swear with one wrong move, he might take off your head. he is gripping so tight, that you start to feel some hairs getting pulled from your scalp. and it hurts badly. yet, you don’t focus on that. you don’t focus on the incoming headache and instead focus on wanting his release.

you move your mouth back up to his tip and lick it again, fast, as your tongue dives into the little hole and swirls in it. raphael moans and you open your eyes to watch him. his mouth is open and his face is contorted into an expression you’ve never seen before. an expression of pure bliss. your eyes lock with his and he gives you that infamous smirk of his. his sharp teeth a pearly white, and his eyes glowing more than usual. you hum against his throbbing cock that’s still in your mouth. raphael moans at that feeling and leans his head back against the pillows.

“you’re such a good little mouse,” he says in a deep voice. you hear the pant in his words, and it makes you so happy knowing you could leave the devil breathless.

you take him out of your mouth with a “pop” and smile at his compliment. you want to kiss him. to kiss his whole body and worship him like a god. he would soon be one once you deliver him that crown and you could be by his side even if he treated you like a slave. such power in his hands as you live a life of luxury and painful pleasure. it doesn’t seem so bad.

you gather the spit in your mouth and let it drool onto his dick. it drips from your lips slowly, and you use your thumb to rub it all around the tip of his cock, lubricating him more. you move your hand up and down again, watching as your spit slides up and down. raphael’s breathing grows heavier with each stroke, and when you put his cock back into your mouth and take him so deep. that it hits the back of your throat, he moans loudly.

raphael notices how quickly you moved back though, and so he quickly dragged your head back down his dick, forcing you to take more of him in you. you almost choke on how big he is, and how it hurts so bad. you can’t breathe and yet it doesn’t matter. it’s so disgustingly beautiful. you bob your head faster and faster, enjoying the sounds he’s making. raphael starts to guide your head, not allowing you to stop. he was almost there, almost on the brink of release.

his voice gets deeper and his moans are louder. you’ve placed both hands on his abdomen now as you just take him fucking your face. it makes you cry, how badly you cannot breathe, and how bad it hurts the back of your throat. tears run down your cheeks and onto him, and he laughs at the state you’re in again. so cute yet so humiliating.

“swallow it all, little mouse,” he says. it’s a demand, not a suggestion. he doesn’t say what will happen if you don’t, and you don’t want to know. you’ve never done this before and you don’t know how you’ll be able to take him all in.

with a few more thrusts into your face, raphael cums and lets out the sexiest and deepest groan you’ve ever heard. his load is hot and it burns your throat. you try to swallow it all, but there’s too much and it doesn’t stop coming. you moan and try to keep up, but his cum starts to drip down your chin now and down your throat. he pushes you away again and pants heavily. you’re still crying when he looks at you. your chest has his cum on it, and so does your mouth and chin. you look like a mess: a hot mess. and raphael loves it.

you go to wipe his cum off your mouth, but he leans forward and grabs you, kissing you immediately. you moan into the kiss and wrap your arms around him, enjoying it greatly. you can taste yourself still on his lips, and as his tongue forces its way into your mouth, he too can taste himself. and it’s safe to say that he tasted better than wyvern whiskey. a sweet yet tangible taste to it, he had. it was the complete opposite of what he is in nature.

you feel his hands grab your breasts and squeeze them, pinching your nipples so hard they almost bled. you gasped into his mouth and started to grind your hips against his, wanting that sweet release from earlier. raphael laughs in your mouth and pulls away.

“you are pathetic,” he says.

you look up at him with your big eyes and fucked-out face. it catches him off guard as to how beautiful you are. with his cum on your body, the little prick on your lip from where he bit you earlier, the messy hair, and beautiful skin. you are almost as beautiful as him. he can’t help but stare at your glowing features (caused by your sweat and his cum). you see raphael’s face soften, but it goes away as fast as it came.

“i am pathetic,” you murmur. “i am whatever you want me to be, raphael…”

your voice was low and soft. it was sultry and sexy, something he never would have imagined to come from you. and by the nine hells did it make him painfully hard again. he kissed you again to stop looking at your pretty face and to shut you up. he felt his nature soften when you spoke and it angered him how the tables have turned so easily. how that one look of yours made him crumble. you would not pull that sorcery again. not now, not ever. the devil raphael wouldn’t bend to a mortal’s charms, ever.

he moves forward until you’re lying on your back with him on top of you again. raphael doesn’t waste any time by moving back down in between your legs and licking up the wetness that now found its way in between your thighs. he sucks on a spot that was particularly wet and close to your cunt, and you clench at nothing and breathlessly moan. he then bites down, hard, and you yelp in pain. it bleeds now, and raphael licks up the blood like it is the richest of wines. it throbs painfully and you whimper because of it. raphael does not care though.

he places his lips back on your cunt and starts to lick again. he swirls it around your wetness and uses his fingers again to make you reach your orgasm quicker than before. but you have been on edge since then, and having to suck him off while not being able to touch yourself was undeniably the worst type of pain you’ve felt in your life. raphael, now feeling how wet you were with two fingers, painfully thrusts in a third one. he removes his lips and twists and turns it around to see how you adjust.

you cry even harder and have to wipe the tears away from your eyes. it doesn’t even feel good, it just hurts. “stop!” you cry. “it hurts!”

“i need you to be prepared for me, little mouse. pleasure will overcome pain, but only if you allow it to. don’t resist…”

you try to relax, but he doesn’t slow down. you can’t tell if he’s lying or not because you’ve never had anybody do this to you before. it scares you, honestly. but the faster raphael jams his fingers in and out of you without sucking on your clit, the worse the pain is. you cover your eyes and think about praying to the heavens to come and save you. but nobody will come. nobody will listen. you are on your own.

remember, you have lost yourself. everything you are and everything you own is now raphael’s, forever and always.

he hums and puts his lips back on your clit to suck on it again. it makes you gasp and moan, and he doesn’t plan on stopping. you feel that pit in your stomach again. it’s burning hotter than before, and it feels even better. you run your hands through raphael’s hair and run your nails against his scalp. it feels good to him, but his lips and fingers feel even better than a few head scratches. you buck your hips against his face and cry. you’re almost there.

and when it comes, it releases like a tidal wave. you scream raphael’s name and shake under him. but he doesn’t slow down. he only goes faster. you don’t have time to slow down your breathing. you’re sensitive to the touch everywhere and it is starting to hurt. you manage to move away a little, but raphael gets upset and grabs your legs again to drag you back up to him. he is sitting up now, holding your lower body up to his face as he looks down at you with only lust in his orange eyes.

“stop, please! raphael!” you scream, trying to get away again. but his grip on you is so strong, that his nails break the skin and you bleed again. you yell and jolt with each wave of sensation that comes in, and before long, you feel yourself about to cum again. it hurts this time though, and it lasts longer than the other one.

raphael finally lets go of you and your legs drop onto his lap. you’re trying to get control of your breathing again, but your body lays half unnaturally in his lap and your hair sticks to the sweat on your face by your nose, making it difficult to breathe. you close your legs and cry onto his sheets. it hurts so much at the end, but you think about that pleasurable orgasm you have never felt before in your life. if felt like a gift. a new becoming. it was a release you could never give yourself. a release you’ve never, ever had before. and it was breathtaking.

raphael spreads your legs wide open and you shriek. you go to shut them again but he smacks your ass hard with his tail in reciprocation. it stings and you hiss in pain.

“don’t defy me!” he snaps.

you shiver under him. “i’m sorry,” you whimper. you open your legs for him and he positions himself comfortably in between them. this is it. this is finally it. whatever you have left of you will finally be gone... you tear up again and close your eyes, inhaling sharply. raphael leans over you and kisses you softly on the lips, tugging at the bottom lip a little. you kiss back instantly, enjoying the taste of him and you. but then he pulls away to tease you, and you reach your hand up to touch his cheek. his skin is so soft and he leans into your touch like a cat.

“wrap me around your little finger,”

he’s reciting your poem again. it sounds better coming from him than it does from you, but the question arises again as to where he found it and how he acquired it. it was always on you, but you don’t dare to ask him now. he holds your hand with his and caresses the back of it with his thumb.

“wrap me around your wedding ring,”

he kisses your hand and moves it away to grab your hips. raphael uses one hand to position his cock at your slick entrance that was so sensitive and needy. he looks up at you to see the nervous look on your face. and with the slightest movement of his hips, he slips inside of you rather easily. you arch your back off the bed and reach for him, but he doesn’t give himself to you. not yet, anyway.

“your words, they take the shape my body makes,”

he thrusts into you slowly, and you moan.

“isn’t that the scary thing?”

he grabs a hold of your hips with both hands now and helps you find the rhythm. you only feel pain though and he’s barely in. you feel the inside of you burn with pain and rip apart from his cock and it burns with the fire of the nine hells. you don’t want to cry this time. you’ve cried enough and this time you want to keep your eyes open, clearly, and see what is happening to your body.

and he is glorious.

his body is beautiful, and the smooth bucking of his hips into yours is like an instrument. its sounds are beautiful and pleasant, and all nerves and pain wash away when you relax into the bed and let him take you. raphael’s bliss enters your tadpole-occupied mind and all you feel is the pleasure of his dick inside of you. it thrusts at a constant speed with such great precision. from the time you have been here, he makes it seem like he’s known your body for years.

his touches are that of a lover’s, and his care is that of a stranger’s. but with every other thrust, you feel him go slightly deeper each time. his cock stretches you out more each time and you watch it with a lustful look in your big eyes. you’re so intrigued by the sheer size of his dick.

but when raphael sees you enjoy yourself too much again, he always finds a way to ruin it. he suddenly thrusts hard and stops.

“raphael!” you yell in pain.

you feel yourself start to bleed. the pain could be intolerable to most, but you were not like most people. it hurt, badly. it felt like every inch of your body was going to rip. you want to relax, you want to calm yourself down. but it hurts even though he’s not moving. you steady your breathing, or at least tried to, and bathed in the hurt. he slid out slowly and thrust back into you with the same amount of force as last time. you cried and yelled with each time he did it. you bled and bled all over him.

your blood drips onto his bed and it matches the color of his sheets. a dark red that matches the color perfectly, and it was soon forgotten about. raphael roughly grabs your throat roughly again, and you fight against him this time. he slams his lips against yours and kisses you again, and it’s rough. there’s no passion or love; there never was. but he was hungry for you, and his fervent kisses were hard and fast. you could feel your soul drain and belong to him. he moves his head to your neck and bites down harshly, drawing blood immediately. you grab his shoulders but find yourself not pushing him away. you dig your nails into his skin and push him up closer to you.

it hurts. it hurts like a bitch when all you feel is his sharp teeth dig into your skin and his dick takes slow, painful thrusts into you. raphael could use a spell to make it better for you. to not make you so tight and tense but he likes to see you hurt and squirming and squealing like a mouse in a trap. to see how you bleed as you take him in painfully and cry and cry his name and beg for him to stop. he moves his head out of the crevice of your neck to watch the look of pleasure and pain contort on your face and your silent tears cascade down those flushed and puffy cheeks. the future hero of baldur’s gate was so beautiful like this—under the control and manipulation of the devil himself.

and when his fire pits of eyes look into your teary and puffy ones, he starts to go faster. he wants to see you cry more. he wants your pain to turn into pleasure. he wants to see your spirit falter and die.

“i cried the day i realized that lies were hidden in his kisses,”

he continues, kissing your chin right after.

“i was tangled in his arms,”

he brings you up to his chest and it makes it all the easier to hit that spot you enjoy the most. you forget about the pain and arch your back, now drawing his blood and staining your nails red. raphael goes faster and faster, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that drives you crazy. you wrap your arms around his neck and fall into him, grinding your hips each time he brings you down into him.

“raphael…” you moan, shutting your eyes.

his breathing is getting labored.

“i was his mess, his ball of strings,”

he grabs your hair and yanks it harshly, ripping a few strands. you don’t care. you offer yourself to him, willingly showing him your neck that had his bites and the vampires. raphael bites down on the spot astarion took pleasure in biting almost every night, and now covered it with his bite marks. he bites down harder than the previous ones and sucks on it. you run your hands through his hair and moan into his ear passionately. raphael shudders at the sound of your voice.

“i would give him everything,” you moan into his ear, lips hovering over it. “the nine hells and second chances.”

you finish your poem. the poem you had started at fifteen and finished only a few days ago. how your feelings for him were manifesting on a ripped and bloodied piece of paper that he managed to find on your journey to baldur’s gate. when you had written your one-way ticket to hell on your own. and how did you manage to convince yourself that you were still a child of the seven martyrs? how did you manage to keep yourself away from his many advances and sexual fantasies? from the trickery you bestowed upon yourself? you disgusting liar.

you hear raphael chuckle in between his low moans, and you hold onto him tighter. you don’t want to let go of the cambion you find yourself falling for every second.

you clench around raphael when he thrusts faster. you kiss his neck and moan into his skin, feeling the bliss of him. you want to cum so bad and so hard. you want to please him, to not anger him. you trail your kisses onto his chin, and he turns his head to kiss you again. you grab his cheek and slip your tongue into his mouth, fighting for some control. his tongue swirls around with yours and he groans into the kiss. he smacks your ass hard again, and you press yourself against him more. you clench around him again because of it, and it’s enough to almost send you over the edge. you moan into the kiss and pull away.

raphael grabs your chin and forces your mouth open, and you can barely stick your tongue out to meet his. you’re moaning as he sucks on the pink muscle and then spits right into your mouth. it drips down the side of your lips but you lick it. he did say to swallow it all.

“such a good little mouse,” he praises you, caressing your cheek.

you come to love the nickname. it turns you on and raphael can feel it. it’s starting to get difficult to breathe and raphael knows that you’re close. he lays you back down on the bed and spreads your legs wide. he doesn’t slow down. he slams into you like it’ll be the last time he’ll ever touch you. you can see stars when you close your eyes, and maybe his dick is so big you can feel it hit your stomach each time he goes in harder. your body tenses up and you start to cry again.

“i’m almost there, raphael!” you moan. “please, please don’t stop!”

you’re so sweet, so pitiful. he doesn’t plan on slowing down anytime soon. your begging is like a sonnet to his ears and he finds himself finishing inside of you. he stills and releases his hot load into you. you cry and shake, and soon you cum too. you grip the sheets and feel your life escape from your body. a feeling unimaginable; an orgasm so hard and beautiful. your back collapses onto the bed and you start to pant heavily. raphael slips out of you and uses a finger to feel the inside of your cunt. you were filled so much it wouldn’t stop leaking out of you.

raphael gets off the bed and fixes his hair quickly. you watch him, still breathing heavily, as he moves some loose strands back behind his ear. he looks at your body and notices the state it was in. blood and cum was smeared all over your sweaty body. your hair stuck to your face and your lips were bruised and swollen from his kisses. with a snap of his fingers he could take you back to your camp and leave you like that. in another time, he will, but some things needed to be discussed with you first.

your legs were pressed tightly together, likely to keep his cum inside of you. you were already missing his heated embrace and fervent kisses. you reach out a hand to him, smiling a little. his heart warms just the tiniest bit and he goes to grab your hand.

“will you accept now?” he asks, dragging you to him. he picks you up and takes you to the large bath in the room. you are still blinded by your lust for him, and although your body aches and writhes in pain from his relentless fucking, you feel like you can think clearly.

raphael sits you down in his lap in the bath, and you relax into his touch. he shocks himself with his tenderness towards you, and it makes him want to gag. but he enjoys it. he enjoys doing this for you. when your mind starts to clear from the bath, you realize what he has done. and it hurts.

“i was only a girl before you came into my life and manipulated my parents,” you say. “and because of you, i had to grow up fast to protect my family. you act like their friend. you act like you care about them. even i fell for your tricks, raphael, and then i saw you for who you are when you asked my parents for my hand in marriage.”

you think back to that night; the night before you were kidnapped. when raphael had talked with your father via letters to allow him to marry you. and when he had come to your home that evening, and your father excitedly told you that raphael had some great news for you. that you would be betrothed to him, and you saw that flicker of the hells in his eyes. you first blamed it on the trick of the lights, but when raphael appeared after the nautiloid and took you to his house of hope for the first time and revealed himself to you… you knew you were doomed.

“you took everything from me tonight,” you continued. “my privacy, my virginity, my wings… i no longer have any solace or faith in the seven martyrs that rule mount celestia, but in you…”

you turn around and look at him. he has no expression on his face, and it doesn’t shock you. he couldn’t care about your feelings, and you knew that. so why do you lay your heart bare for him?

“i’m alone.”

raphael laughs and it burns a hole in your heart. “it hurts my heart so dearly to hear you say this, my little mouse. i do not need to repeat myself. you may have been a lost virgin with wings, but as long as you stay here with me, in my house of hope, then your wings will regrow.”

you look at him, trying to study his facial features. but they’re deceiving many a time, and so you don’t know what he truly is feeling. all you know is that he has taken everything from you, and now your new self belongs to him. you lean in and go to kiss him but he stops you by placing his hands on your lips.

“enough with the teasing, my dear…” he whispers in that voice you love so much. “tell me what i want to hear. tell me what your heart desires. what you wrote for me…”

your breath hitches in your throat. he moves his hand away to allow you to speak, and you inhale sharply. was it alright to do this? everybody would hate you. but it was okay. as long as you have raphael, nothing else matters.

“i’ll marry you, raphael,” you whisper back. “i want to be yours until my soul ceases to exist. i want to be with you always.”

you lean in closer, your lips hovering above his. still, you look into his eyes.

“i will make you king of the nine hells.”

and you kiss him. raphael embraces you fast and kisses you right back, pressing your body tightly up against his. there was no need for a contract when this was something coming from your heart. you truly wanted to do this. you wanted to be by his side, lavished in sex and diamonds. you want to be his consort or slave—it didn’t matter to you. you were his. and that was all you ever wanted since he first looked at you when you were fifteen. when he introduced himself to you under the guise of a wealthy man. who ever knew you would fall in love with the devil.

—

you return to camp clothed and ready to retire for the night. wyll spots you emerging from the area by the lake where you were last spotted, and runs over to you. he can smell the sulfur as soon as he stands in your vicinity, and a look of disgust arises on his facial features as he looks at you. you don’t even have time to say hello before he says anything.

“you’ve been gone for ages, tav!” he almost yells. you put your hands out in front of you to quiet him down so nobody would ask what the problem was.

“i’m sorry,” you say, but you don’t feel all that sorry.

“what business do you have with raphael?!”

you don’t say anything at first. you only look at him and shake your head, ignoring his question. you go to move past him, but he grabs your shoulder and forces you to stay. you wince in pain and quickly pull back. raphael’s bath helped but he wanted to remind you of his marks and power over you. now that you had promised to marry him once you see your parents again.

“it’s none of your business, wyll.”

“you don’t know what game you’re playing. i swear if you signed a deal with him or—“

“it was nothing like that! we just… have a history together.”

“and you hid it from us this whole time?”

“it’s nothing serious. he just so happens to know my parents and… wanted to ask me a few questions.”

oh, but it was far worse. you had made love to him, professed yourself to him, and accepted his marriage proposal. you would give him the crown of karsus and help him take over the nine hells. it was the worst plot to come from the son of mephistopheles. it was something wyll could not even begin to guess even if he tried. but your sternness and collective demeanor convinced him that it was nothing more than that.

he softens up again and clears his throat. “like what?”

you cross your arms and raise an eyebrow. “wyll.”

“i know i shouldn’t pry into your business, but when it comes to the devil, it’s difficult for me.”

you stare at him for a heartbeat before grabbing his hands with yours and squeezing them. you smile at him gently and rub the back of his hands with your thumbs. “whatever we talked about has no concern to you guys. it was a personal matter that didn’t involve you or the tadpoles. i promise you.”

a false promise. wyll had no choice but to believe you and thank you for your “honesty”. as he turns around to head to bed, you drop the smile and make your way to your tent with pain in between your legs. finally, you collapse into your bed and stare up at the fabric of your tent. raphael was in your mind. he will forever be in your mind. he is you, and you are him, forever.

i can’t stop listening to cowboy carter forgive me <3

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael bg3 x tav #smut

[edosianorchids901]

Where Flowers Bloom

@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "pushing up daisies"

“Crowley!”

Crowley jumped, startled awake by the sudden call, and nearly fell out of the hammock. He steadied himself, then pushed up his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Hrgk?”

“Where are you, you old serpent?”

“Hammock.” He had been taking a nice, solid nap. Unintentionally. He’d been reading a sci-fi novel, but apparently it hadn’t held his interest. “Where are you?”

After a moment, Aziraphale traipsed out from behind a hedge and waved. He wore a floppy hat and green gardening gloves today. “I’ve just been looking over the vegetable beds.”

“Oh? How are they?”

“They’re pushing up daisies.”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale’s displeased expression. “What? What happened?”

“I just told you.”

“No, but how?”

“I have no idea.” 

“No, I mean, are the plants withered? Does it look like there were animals digging in the beds? Or did…” A sudden suspicion crept through the fog of Crowley’s mind. “Wait. Hold up. What do you think ‘pushing up daisies’ means, angel?”

Aziraphale stared at him. “That it’s pushing up daisies.”

“Right, but what does that mean?”

The befuddlement on Aziraphale’s face wrenched into concern. He stepped closer and laid his gloved hand on Crowley’s brow. Then he pulled his glove off and touched Crowley’s brow again. “You don’t seem overheated, but given your confusion, I’m a bit concerned you may have given yourself sunstroke.”

“I’m in the shade.”

“Yes, but you’re awfully confused.”

“Nuh.” Crowley shook his head. “I’m not now. ‘Pushing up daisies’ is an expression. Means ‘dead’. But m’ guessing you mean literal daisies, eh?”

“Of course I mean literal daisies!” Frowning, Aziraphale shook his head. “I really do find your methods of expression difficult to follow.”

“Oy, it wasn’t my expression. Human ingenuity.” Crowley tried to climb out of the hammock and almost flipped it over. Aziraphale wordlessly caught his arm and helped him out. “Thanks. Er. Er, okay. So, are you sure they’re daisies? Not vegetables that have bolted?”

“They aren’t runaway vegetables, no.”

Crowley groaned. Sometimes, having a conversation with Aziraphale could turn into a nightmare. For somehow who read as much as he did, he had tunnel vision when it came to vocabulary. “Nuh, that means when the plant goes to seed early. It doesn’t mean running away. Well, except maybe in the case of the horseradish.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to groan. “That was an awful pun.”

“Yes,” Crowley agreed. “Come on, angel. Let’s go see.”

Once they reached the vegetable beds, it didn’t take very long to confirm that they weren’t growing vegetables. Crowley walked all the way around anyway, glaring at each flower.

“Well,” he finally said, looking over the sea of white and yellow with occasional splashes of pink, “those are definitely daisies.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“Never doubted you.” Crowley winked, knowing Aziraphale would see it despite the dark glasses in the way. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Okay. Okay. So, what happened to the vegetables? D’ya think someone broke in and switched them out? Could be part of a secret plot.”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “You’ve been watching too many James Bond films. I think the true answer is much simpler than that. Elementary, really.”

“You’ve been reading too many Sherlock Holmes stories.”

“No such thing, my dear.”

“And there’s no such thing as too many James Bond films.” Crossing his arms, Crowley stared at the vegetable bed. Flowerbed, now. “Could be the seed company switched the seeds to save money.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “No. I really don��t think it’s that.”

“What is it, then?”

Smiling, Aziraphale took his hand. “My dear fellow, do you remember an afternoon when we’d had a little too much wine, and decided it might be fun to try ‘drunk gardening’?”

Crowley froze. “Oh no.”

“Oh, yes.”

“Shitshitshit, we absolutely grabbed the wrong seed packets, didn’t we? Forgot to double check, didn’t we?”

“It seems so.”

Crowley hissed in annoyance. Then he pulled himself together, making a new plan. “Right, okay. Time to cut some flowers for a table centerpiece.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #book omens #crowley #aziraphale

[prapaiwife]

Just Joe seeing Ming in his house whatever his reaction will be when they do get to talk it's going to be interesting. And there's a scene in the trailer I see where he brings Joe back to his house funnyly so the house that he should be in but he's not in because obviously. Cause that house holds so much happiness for Joe and yet so much pain. He literally lived there for like the rest of his life till his passing after his parents has passed. Until he brought Ming in and wanted to build a life with him, tho he wanted to move out and find a nicer and better place for them. But ming wanted to stay at his place because he liked the simplicity of it all, he liked the quietness of it. (Hence why he's still there, despite the fact that he obviously is in the entertainment industry to live on his own and his beautiful big houses, but he chose to still live in Joe's house with a sliver of Hope that he will come through those doors again) but back to my point when he brings Joe into his house I would think it's like as if he's trying to have him reminisce or have some remembrance of the times that they share together in the house. And yeah they shared sweet moments. But also a lot of bad things happen in the house that I won't be surprised if Joe kind of brings up. Like when he forced him to sleep on the floor in his own house because he was drunk and he smelled. Despite the fact that whenever he came home drunk Joe took care of him and let him sleep on the bed. The same house where he was hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat because Ming didn't want to leave and do something great for his own career all because tong asked him too and his own overgrowing jealousy. The same house where he on more than one occasion accused Joe of being promiscuous and sleeping around especially with his best friend. The same house where Joe sat and read it for me to come home because he didn't know where his heart lays that day if it was for him or for tong. And so him being there years later and hoping for Joe to show up I can see it's like icky because what does he deserve to even feel the right to still live in this man's house knowing the pain he caused to literally his whole life. He gave Joe as Joe said himself this new found meaning of love and yet also took so much from him. His job or his whole career actually. Which was the only thing that he had going for himself after everything that he has been through all the tragedies he faced. This led him to do something that took his life away and to be where he is now.

#my stand in #my stand in the series #joeming #mingjoe #ming x joe #joe x ming #up poompat #poom phuripan