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#instead of being shoved into a side role

azol-otl · 2 years

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So I was rewatching season two of Young Justice (because I only kept up with the show while it was on television and it not existing for years meant I didn’t bother going back to it) and it seems like I still share my opinion from way back then.

Why did they use Tim and Cassie?

Like, don’t get me wrong it makes sense that a show called Young Justice would have them, but the show was already nothing like the comic. YJ!Superboy is nothing like comics!Superboy and he’s the only core member of the actual Young Justice comics to have been in season one. The show’s core cast has two gen one sidekicks, a gen three sidekick, a gen four (??? things get muddled as hell in the 2000s), a gen five sidekick, and a bit villainess. They are literally an elseworld.

Not only that, but Tim and Cassie were...pretty much non-characters during the season. Despite the time given to them, they weren’t very important to the overall arc and were wasted potential.

But you know who wouldn’t have been? Jason and Donna.

We already know the characters exist in universe. We see Jason’s memorial.

This is an unnecessary aside, but I am so sick of Jason’s death being the only thing we see of him in elseworlds. Even the ones where he’s alive they’re always like “And he’s evil because he was poor!” Like bitch do you not understand how to create a tragedy? You don’t just give us sad events you have to get us attached to the character first. This is a cartoon! It has a much wider audience than a comic! They won’t know major comic references because they are not informed! Why would the grotto scene work if we never met these people! Get us attached and then kill them off!

But there is no point in knowing these characters exist if you don’t use them (or at least cameo them if they’re really niche), but with these two specifically they could have done something really interesting.

They could have been Red Herrings.

Jason and Donna have both died in the comics. Their deaths were majorly important events to their respective IP’s (Batman and Titans). Not only that, but we already have Bart coming back in time to save a third person who had famously died, Barry Allen.

We know that Bart came back in time to stop the apocalypse. We know something happens to Jaime that turns him evil. We’re led to believe that Artemis dies (something that rocks Bart to the core because she didn’t die in his timeline). So we would suspect that Jason and Donna would be the first in line to die.

The Young Justice writers could even play into their reputations with what’s already present. They could have made Jason and Jaime (who are the same age in this universe) close friends. This could be used to give Bart anxiety because Jason, again, famously gets murdered as Robin and Jaime is supposed to become evil.

Hell if they made Jason take Tim’s place during the infiltration there would have been some serious investment when original Roy purposefully explodes shit and they fight Black Beetle because one of these characters has a history of being murdered.

I would also like to push my YJ crackship of BlueJay (Jaime/Jason) because I am trash and will forever push Jason being queer.

Or with Mongul (who Jason has a major story with) you can push Jason almost dying again. And it would be through betrayal from someone who’s supposed to love you, just like in DitF. (Imagine the scene where Nightwing finds the batarang when you know that there’s a real possibility that this is how Jason dies in this universe).

On Donna’s end you can have her take more and more responsibilities after Artemis dies and she starts becoming more of Dick’s second in command with a penchant of shoving herself in front of attacks because she can survive things that others cannot (because Artemis “died” via stabbing and if you had Donna there, whoo boy that’s some guilt). So when the Bialya mission occurs and it’s the all-girls team (the all-girls team with two very squishy humans Barbara and Karen), they could just bring in a larger threat than the henchmen that are there then hey there’s more conflict and fear for comic fans. And again in Warworld where she can be fighting against Mongul and guess what there’s another squishy human there, Roy. Instead of being immediately knocked out she could have taken a blow for Roy.

Side Note: When Nightwing explains why it’s an all girl’s team being sent to Bialya (way to assume everyone’s straight Dick), Donna can have a snarky line like, “And Robin isn’t here why?”

For extra extra angst you can have both Jason and Donna reacting negatively to Artemis’ “death” and reaching out to Wally because of it. Jason because both he and Artemis are from the same place and have a similar prickliness that comes from how they were raised (we could have had an Artemis-Jason sibling bond and it would have been great), and his fury that someone who “got out” still died a violent death. Donna because of the guilt of Artemis dying but also because she’d be closer in age to Wally and Artemis so making them be friends just makes sense. And by putting more of the focus on their grief and Wally’s guilt the writers could expertly tie Wally into the “could possibly die” camp without making the audience worry about it.

And with everything that happens. With the two obvious targets somehow alive throughout the season, they still “kill” Wally West. All of the foreshadowing about sacrifice. All of the remarks about not being reckless (because this is still DC and they love blaming Jason’s death on himself). All of the near-deaths, it ends up being the person you don’t expect and it hits harder because of it (except for all the people who watched JLU who had pinged Wally dying pretty early on in the season) .

But yeah. If they were going through the trouble of confirming these characters exist, why not use them for the narrative?

#I can't believe I'm talking about Young Justice a whole ass decade after I stopped watching it #I like a lot of what Young Justice did and am really impressed by how many characters they shoved into it.#But there's a point where it's too much too quickly and they hit that pretty fast #Like I love cameos but I love the characters I like being utilized more #Me at Red Hooded Ninja: I love him and I want to know more about him #Show: How about we just give cameos about him and never utilize his potential #I get that a lot of people wanted the Core Four in YJ but wouldn't it be better if they actually had the chance to shine individually #instead of being shoved into a side role #Young Justice Cartoon #Jason Todd #Donna Troy #Sorry Donna fans I did talk about her but feel free to ignore this post

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mygnolia · 6 days

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three laws of motion, and the three ways i love you | TEASER

synopsis -› the only person jake has to thank for you and him getting together is isaac newton, and the stupid apple that fell on his head.

pair -› sim jaeyun/jake x reader

release date -› june!!

genre -› fluff fluff fluff

trope -› friends to lovers, roommates to lovers

wc -› not long. will not be super long maybe 5k

cw -› god the pining oh the pining oh you are oblivious

a/n -› oopsie!! i fear jake in glasses has me in a trance.

---

jake mopes on the couch, rewatching ‘friends’ until you come back, with an small smile gracing your oh-so-pretty face. jake immediately springs up, helping you with your coat and asking where you’ve been, even if he knows.

“i was with sunoo.” you respond simply. He drills you with questions, laced with concern but hidden with a curiosity that could only stem from his feelings for you. “we went out to eat something small, and had some ice cream, that’s all. I was fine, don’t even worry- he drove me home and waited until i texted him anyways.” jake feels his role by your side becoming smaller, and he takes a slow breath, hoping that with his exhale goes the negative feelings he has about being competition.

“we were supposed to watch how to lose a man in ten days.” he complains, and you laugh, his voice sounding dejected. you shove him towards your bedroom, telling him that there’s still time to watch one of your favorite films of all time.

“but you’re tired.” he takes a step closer, examining the way your eyes lose energy as the day goes on as an eventual sign of your dwindling social battery.

“doesn’t mean I don’t watch to watch with you.”

---

me when i don't write it's cupid, stupid and instead write pining jake fanfic

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muntitled · 5 months

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𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐡

Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader I Brief!Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: you ought to not be surprised by Farleigh's constant cheating. You should, instead, use his greatest adversary to get back at him.

Warnings: Language, Dark fic, Mentions of Violence, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Drug Use, Smut (+18), Public Sex, Cheating, Dirty Talk, Dub/Con, Choking, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Threats, Rough Sex, Sadism, Masochism, Dry Humping, Orgasm Denial,Cervix fucking, Dom!Oliver, Subspace, Corruption Kink, Humiliation,

This film opened my brain and spilled out everything inside.

𖤓

Because neither you nor Farleigh had ever been modest about your relationship, Oliver was made privy to every single bit of it. You both were so indiscreet and so hellbent on showing everyone else that you were together, it felt as if Oliver lived in your skin.

Whenever you and Farleigh cuddled drunkenly, Oliver was made privy. Whenever you and Farleigh exchanged sexually charged glances across the dinner table, Oliver was made privy. Whenever Farleigh was touch-starved and sank his claws around your throat, Oliver, always skulking in the background, was made privy. Whenever you two fucked. He was there.

Oliver could hear the two of you eating each other alive during a majority of his stay at Saltburn so he should be used to this behavior by now.

“What a slut,” Farleigh's words are wrapped in humid sweat, with his hands locked firmly around your throat, “What a good fucking slut.”

Oliver, having just decided to take a midnight stroll, watches from the shadows as Farleigh takes you right there in the courtyard. He may not particulary fond of Farleigh, still Oliver had to applaud that he at least had the decency to ravage you in secret. Oliver remains watching, not because it gives him any sexual gratification, but only because he did not imagine your sex lives to be this visceral… certainly not this animalistic.

“You are fucking filth, you know that?” Farleigh asks, rutting into you with your back pressed against a stone surface. Instead of your eyes fluttering shut, you were gazing over Farleigh's shoulder, staring straight ahead at the shadow skulking in the darkness.

Oliver held a finger up to his lips, prompting you to keep your mouth shut.

You watch each other as Farleigh fucks into you, continuing his words of mindless praise. “Gorgeous fucking filth-” and you both cum at that. Farleigh with his eyes shut, and you, with your mouth hanging open and your gaze stationed on Oliver.

Before this exact moment, Felix was the only thing that existed in Oliver's whole wide world. He did not notice you, but never ever think that he was not aware of you. In fact, as far as Oliver knew, you held no standing of any official significance in Saltburn.

Beyond, of course, being Farleigh's overcompensated whore.

You were almost as inescapable as Farleigh, but not nearly as annoying and for the most part, you played the role of a good little girl, forever glued to her unfaithful boyfriend’s side.

These are the thoughts that pollute Oliver’s mind as he drifts through the vibrancy of his own party, having left the maze and Felix's limp body in it.

Oliver's feet, clad in all-too-expensive Italian leather only seem to weigh him down as he drifts aimlessly through the egregious castle. Neon lights spill over a carpet stitched with cocaine and he has to fight the urge not to shove past the drunken bodies congesting his pathway.

For the longest time, Oliver was convinced that you were one of them: These people disguised as parasitic waste dancing underneath the moonlight, celebrating his supposed birthday. Instead, Oliver finds you here, taking up space in the Blue Room with your figure helplessly draped over the bed.

Your form is reminiscent of The Nightmare. One of Oliver’s most beloved paintings, reason being, because it was so unequivocally dreadful. He watches you as he would The Nightmare.

Your eyes are wet and your body is wracking with pitiful sobs into your forearm. Ollie may not be good at emotions but he can tell you're distraught- like one of Fuseli's girls.

Soon, the whole thing becomes too uncomfortable to watch and he clears his throat as he says,

“Shit, I'm so sorry, I didn't think anyone was in here.”

“Oh-Ollie!”

Your shoulders shoot up, and you nearly jump off the bed in apparent fright. Your eyes are wide saucers and your skin is dark in the moonlight. Ollie has to resist the urge to lick his lips.

He wanted to fucking eat you alive.

“Fuck, did I scare you?” He hunches his shoulders, making himself smaller than he usually was. “My apologies.” He had to appease you somehow in your startled state and you You quick to press a shaky palm to your cheeks, utterly devestated to find the surface of your skin wet and salty.

Out of all the parasites in this nest, you were the least bloodthirsty.

“How utterly embarrassing,” you coo, before wiping furiously away at your cheeks.

Sensing the perfect opening, Oliver steps over the threshold, polluting the space, as he did the rest of Saltburn, with his presence alone.

“Where'd you come from?” You ask before sitting up at the edge of the bed.

“Murdering my best friend.” Oliver answers cooly, with his wooden horns silhouetted by the moonlight.

As he creeps closer the moonlight highlights the crevices of your face and Ollie is able to capture the smile that cracks across your visage. He loves that.

You are so deliciously routine.

“Understandable,” you calmly shoot back, “Sometimes I could just fucking kill Farleigh myself.”

How curious. You thought he was joking.

“That's why you were crying, then?” Ollie asks, as he skulks about the Blue Room. He glides his finger across the dusty mantle before turning his eyes back to you, “You were crying because of Farleigh?”

He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear you say it.

Your glittery brows curve again above your puffy eyes, just as your lips protrude into a shaky pout. Fuck he was so painfully hard.

“You'd rather eat glass than hear about my common relationship problems,” you chuckle, fighting back a sob.

“I'd rather eat glass than get back to that stupid party.” And his eyes are so genuine, you immediately believe him. “You'd be saving me, he says, before finally planting himself down on the bed beside you. “Promise.”

“Not much to tell honestly,” You shrug, causing the left string of your cocktail dress to fall off your shoulder. You leave it there. “ You know how Farleigh can be... He has somewhat of a-”

“-Communal penis?” Ollie interjects, “Fucking anything and everything that even vaguely gives him the time of day?”

“Exactly!” and before you know it, you're giggling in the dark with a stranger. “I get tested for STD's like I'm a fucking invalid-”

“The sexiest fucking invalid I've ever come across.” He's closer now. Close enough to tell you've been drinking.

With your eyes trained on his full lips, a thought strikes you suddenly. "Happy birthday, Ollie.” That is enough to snap his gaze up from your exposed collarbone, and up to your big, round eyes. He does not respond for several seconds, promtpting you with the devestaing thought that you might have struck some unforseen nerve.

“H-ave I upset you?” You ask in such genuine concern and naivete, it nearly causes Oliver to cum in his fucking pants. He needed to defile you so badly. He needed you to cry around his cock. He just needed you-

“'Course not," Oliver clears his throat before unclenching and clenching his wired fist, "It's just-you're the first person that's said that to me all night.” Your eyes are hazy now, with your brain having caught on to the very daunting fact that you're in a room with someone who perhaps has other intentions. He is leaning in before slithering his calloused hand on your thigh. Never ever do you move away. Never ever do you tell him off.

“I find that hard to believe-” your bones are rattling as the warmth of his palm spreads to the inside of your steadily opening thighs. “Surely Felix must've said-”

“Fuck fucking Felix- the world doesn't revolve around him!” You're corralled into silence, with this man steadily pushing you back against the bed. “We don't need to talk about Felix,” he looks absolutely ravenous as the tips of his fingers finally make contact with your clothed cunt. “Do you want me to make you cum?”

It's so blatantly filthy, you cannot help but arch your back off the bed and press yourself further against his fingers. “F-Fuck… Ollie-” your breathing is laboured and Ollie watches utterly mesmerised by the way your hips move against his hand.

“I h-heard something about you-”

“What did you hear?” asks Oliver before pulling down your soaked underwear.

“That you don't care about fucking on menses.” You say, awaiting a response but getting none because Oliver stuffs his face between your legs. He's eating you out with absolute fervour, with his nose bumping periodically against your clit.

“Where'd you hear that?” He mumbles against your cunt.

He did not expect to be so utterly taken by you. This is wholly unexpected.

“A certain bottled blonde- FUCK- J-Just like that- please, God, please-”

He only pulls away, only to shrug off his blazer. With his horns and his cock indenting against his pants, he looks absolutely terrifying, that only has you rutting in the air helplessly.

“You mean Venetia is not a real blonde?” He asks before shoving his face in between your legs once more, “I feel betrayed.” The sarcasm drips from his tongue. The same tongue that slithers out his mouth to lick hurriedly against your cunt. He suctions his lips against your hole, as if he wanted to taste inside you.

“I didn't fuck her-” He pants, before pushing his nose against your cunt, “I didn't fuck her all the way- FUCKING BITCH-” Sharp pain bleeds from his scalp because your fingers and its acrylics are buried in his hair now.

“G-God, yes, Ollie-” you're actively rubbing your cunt against his face, absolutely using him to get off. Almost immediately, Oliver immediately decides that won't do.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks, before pinching your clit causing you to still your movements completely. Your torso is wracking with sweat and your nipples pierce through the softness of your dress.

“O-Ollie P-please-”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asks before removing his face from your cunt all together. You try desperately, to hold your moan, but the sight of him crawling up your torso seems enough to almost have you cumming untouched.

You fight against it. You fight against the warmth in the pits of your stomach, you fight against the urge to hump mindlessly into the air until your cunt creates friction with… something. You fight hard.

His breath is warm against your face, but never once do you look away.

“I use you,” he whispers before slithering a hand around your throat.

He squeezes.

“And I'd fucking die before I ever let it be the other way around.” He squeezes and squeezes until you're tapping furiously against his palm.

“Look at how gorgeous you look when you're not being a filthy fucking whore.” You can't help it. Your hips immediately buck up into nothing despite your shortness of breath. You're clawing at his wrists, hoping he'd ease his grip but Oliver does nothing of the sort. In fact, he only moans at the sight of your eyes sinking to the back of your head-

“Fucking, fuck-” He curses, before quickly undoing the vexing buttons of his pants. “Bloody disgusting,” he says, watching the drool ease out your mouth, “You are bloody disgusting-” he sinks into you the very moment he eases his hand away from your throat. You're gulping generously at the air as Oliver slaps against your cheeks, bringing you back to the land of the living.

“There she is,” he punctuates his sentence with a violent thrust, “There she fucking is-”

Pleasure and pain shoot through every channel of your body until you can't even decipher the two. “OH MY FUCKING GOD-”

“I love when you call me that, baby,” He mumers with his eyelids heavy, “I fucking love when you call me that, with your pretty fucking voice, you USELESS fucking bitch-”

It is absolutely sick and absolutely deranged. Every other word that skates out of his mouth is a contradiction of the last and you're utterly frightened of the beast taking you so roughly.

“You're taking it so well-” he whispers, before letting his hand squeeze your nipples through your dress, “Your cunt is taking my cock so fucking well, baby- Fuck-” when the head of his cock presses to that sensitive pillowy plushness, you're wailing in the dark like a banshee. Wanting to push him off of you, but not wanting the pleasure to end. Your struggle only brings him closer and closer to edge.

“I-Is that your fucking cervix, baby- Fuck-”

“Oh God- Ollie.”

He nods, “Now you're gonna cum for me, yeah? You're gonna cum for me and you're gonna think about your stupid cunt of a boyfriend. How he doesn't fuck you like I do-” your orgasm has already started to trickle in and your hips lift up to collide with his, “Tell me- Tell me you can't fucking live without me-” He says, “I need it to cum, tell me, tell me-”

“I need you, Ollie.” His lips stutter open, just as his thrusts become shallower and shallower “I need you to fucking live, Ollie-”

“FUCK- oh fucking fuck-” his spunk fills your insides, just as the entirety of your orgasm washes over you and you immediately realize that you're crying. You're crying because everything feels so good. Oliver has completely strummed you to orgasm. He has moulded your body into everything he needs it to be.

“I fucking use you.” He says, “Not the other way around.”

#saltburn #saltburn x reader #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick smut #saltburn smut #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n

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jarofstyles · 6 months

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Oh Baby, Baby! Five

Series masterlist

Patreon for 100+ exclusive writings and early access

Warnings- Pregnancy, hormones, etc.

WC- 2.3k

---------------

Y/N was certain that she was going to kill someone.

This was why she normally had Harry go to the shops by himself. Her non pregnant self could barely deal with a Saturday crowd. Pregnant Y/N? She was homicidal.

People didn’t know how to walk. How to say ‘pardon me’. How to talk at a normal volume. Her eye was twitching as her hands tightened on the stopping trolly, taking a deep inhale as she watched Harry place a bag of cucumber into the basket. “Think that should be good in the Veg.” He chirped, looking at the list on his phone. She could see the little bubbles being filled in and going down each time he checked off an item. Thankfully he still had a functioning mind because hers was feeling like TV static as she tried to keep herself calm.

Her belly had begun to show a bit more and she was extremely protective of her little bump. Hand rested on it, she self soothed by rubbing over it, her stretchy cotton tee shirt dress moving with her hand. She’d chosen the green because Harry specifically liked her in that color, but she was more than aware of how she had begun to stress sweat and he would more than likely be exposed to the stains it would leave behind.

“Hey..” His hand on her shoulder startled her, making her jump. When had he even approached her? “You okay, love?” His hand shoved the phone into his pocket, instead gently tilting her head up towards him. The look of true concern made her soften her tense shoulders a tad, sighing as she nodded. This newer side to him, having to admit that she was his and he was hers, that they were an actual item, was still somewhat new. It was a weird mix of things that still was hard to understand. On one hand, it spooked her when he was openly affectionate like this, but the bigger side felt like it was natural. Settling into a place it always should have been, perhaps this aspect being the piece she felt somewhat missing in their friendship prior to this.

Harry wasn’t just her best friend anymore. He was her lover. The fucking father of her child! They were going to be around each other forever.

“Yeah.” She said tiredly, letting her face fall into his hand. “I’m a bit overwhelmed, honestly. Knew I needed to get out of the house but I forgot what a madhouse the store turns into on weekends.” A weak smile was pulled to the corner of her lips as his brows furrowed at her answer. Yes, it had been her idea to go. She had been holing up inside of the home and she needed to get some more fresh air and stimulation, but the grocery store was proving to be a bit much.

Pregnancy was a lot more strenuous than she had imagined and she knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Mentally it had been taxing, worrying about her abilities to be a mother and also cultivating and nourishing this new relationship with Harry, she had been anxious for a while despite it all. She was hopeful, anyways, because there was no one else she would ever dream of having a baby with.

With all that was going on, Harry had been a saving grace. A shoulder to lean on and a confidant, now that the layers had been shed and she knew that her feelings for him were not at all one sided. He seemed to thrive, actually, by feeling needed. It was something that had initially shocked her because he used to run away or pull back in the face of commitment, but he was already talking about what they’d make a tradition for their baby's birthday, how they were going to do the holidays, if they’d request their families to come together or split their times… It was incredible but also a bit weird to see. He had slid into the role like he had been born for it.

He’d even suggested they attend birthing classes together. Picked up more parenting books than she had. Gave her the prenatal vitamins and changed all the coffee in the house to decaf, much to her dismay. He was excited and happy and it felt bad that at times she felt a bit like a grinch. To which he would remind her that she was the one growing a little baby inside of her and had her body changing. That it was his job to do the other preparations because she needed to focus on keeping herself and the baby healthy. He was infuriatingly understanding.

“M’sorry. I forgot a bit, I kind of space out in my own head.” He mumbled. “Do you want to leave? I can come back later and get some of the stuff.” See? How was he being so good?

“No, no. That’s ridiculous, we’re halfway through the list. I’m just adjusting, I think. Hyperaware.” She laughed. “Just need to get through it. We’re getting lunch after so I can unwind there. The Bluebird Cafe still okay with you?” She asked, letting his hand fall back to her arm.

“Anything that’s good with you. Y’know I’m not picky, babe.” He chuckled. “They’ve got the good sandwich and salad combinations. I’m not on the cleanse anymore.” She had forgotten about that. A juice cleanse was a little ridiculous to her but apparently he said it helped his gut. To her that meant his bowel movements must be incredibly unpleasant. “Let’s power through the other half of the shopping, I’ll stop home and run it up, and then we can go fill your hunger. All good.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t much to argue, instead letting him pull her in for a quick hug and a press of his lips on her head. She really didn’t know what she would do without him.

—----------------

“So.” Harry’s hands folded against one another. Their food order had been taken and Y/N was sat comfortably in the booth across from Harry, her feet tangled with his. He’d ordered for her, being all too aware of what she had been prattling on about in the car, along with a smoothie he just simply knew that she liked. It was little things like that that caught her off guard. How much had he always been paying attention to that she didn’t even realize?

“Yes?” She asked, amused as she ran her hand absentmindedly over the growing swell of her stomach. The habit was human nature and Harry expressed jealousy sometimes that he couldn’t always be stroking over their growing baby, but he wanted to remain somewhat normal. He was already so fastidious about everything else, something neither of them had anticipated in this whole journey, so he didn’t want to smother Y/N with his eagerness.

“How are we….” He leaned on the table on his elbows, hands clasped. “How do we tell the parents?” It was a loaded question considering they really did need to tell them, sooner rather than later. Neither knew Harry and Y/N were even together, let alone that he was fathering a rapidly growing child inside of Y/N’s tummy. They’d kept it quiet for Y/N’s sake and superstition, wanting to make sure she made it into a safer part of the growth to tell people. It had been Y/N’s idea to have a child, even if she had been a bit impulsive, but she was trying to keep this intimate piece just to themselves for as long as they could. What had started as something off the cuff had become even more important to her than she had anticipated- and that was saying a lot.

“I mean, they’re going to be thrilled.” Harry started again, seeing the little wrinkle between her brows that always formed when she thought too hard. “They’ve been rooting for us to get together since we met. I know the baby part is going to kind of… throw things off, but I know they’re going to be overjoyed to learn that we’re havin’ our little Sprout.” The fondness could be seen physically on his features, like he was floating when he spoke about them. Their little baby, the sprout he was keeping track of every week on an app on his phone. He had quite a few downloaded, actually, but one in particular had been purchased with the premium membership.

‘Might be useful after Sprout, too.’ He had simply shrugged when she asked why he bothered paying for the lifetime membership. It still set the butterflies in her stomach on flight whenever she thought of that little instance.

Her bashful smile was his response, brushing imaginary lint off her dress before daring to meet his eyes. Harry had been more confident about this whole thing even though she had been the one to say she wanted it, and it had been like they sort of switched places. His confidence was starting to be a bit infectious.

“I think we should tell them together.” She finally conceded. “I have no idea how, really. We can check pinterest or just tell them? I know it's the first grandchild for both of them so I want it to be special but I don’t want to overdo it. You know?” Y/N knew Harry would get exactly what she meant. “We can do ultrasound pictures in gift bags, or the tee shirts that say grandma on them? I’ve never done it before.” She peeped, flushing to herself. No shit, this was their first child. This would all be a learning curve for everyone involved.

“No, no. I understand, pretty.” He reached out to grab her fingers that had been fiddling with the edge of the paper napkin, ripping it up slightly. A nervous habit. Instead he spread her fingers out and curled his around hers, running his index finger down the middle of her palm. “I think the ultrasound frame would be the best option. A keepsake that they’ll both like. Maybe we can have them over for a spring dinner, do it then?” The calming touch had it’s intended effect, Harry’s sharp eyes watching as her shoulders relaxed slightly and she nodded at the idea. “Perfect. I don’t mind keeping it to just us for a bit but, you know how gossipy people are. They’re gonna start talking about us going to the appointments and shopping. Don’t want to get everything online.” Harry had been a big advocate for them going out to have the full experience. He wanted to help her choose a crib, a playpen, a baby monitor- all after scouring the safety ratings and reviews, obviously- He wanted to be the one who put together the crib, the one who helped build the nursery. He’d expressed how involved he wanted to be not only in the baby’s day to day, but her pregnancy. How could she say no? How could she not lean all the way into it when she saw just how incredibly happy it made him?

“I know. Everyone is nosy.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “It’s okay, though. I just want to make sure random people don’t come up and feel my stomach. Maybe get me a sign that says ‘ask before touching’ to put on me.” Her joke made him chuckle but it was a real concern of hers. Y/N liked to keep her physical touch to a minimal with strangers. Harry wouldn’t stand for her being uncomfortable. “It’s different around family, like if we go to family stuff, but a lot of strangers just go up to people and touch and it’s weird.” A fake shudder exaggerated her disgust.

“Yeah, m’not sure why that’s a thing, my love. I’ll work something out.” Knowing him, he may very well get her a sign to stick on her tummy, but she would see. “We’ve got the telling our parents squared away, so I suppose my next question is when would you like to go shopping?” The eagerness for that was not well hidden, if he was even trying to hide it. Y/N doubted it.

“Probably soon after we tell them? We can start looking online. You’ve already got the baby locks taken care of.” Her eyes rolled in her head, making him pout. That was still something that he took seriously! He’d seen too many horror stories. “When Sprout, y’know, Blooms, we are going to be overwhelmed and probably busy. I don’t want there to be an accident and we just forget to babyproof something because we have other stuff going on.” He paused, bringing her hand to his face to kiss the knuckles. “I want this to be as stress free for you as possible. Just want you to focus on growing our baby, taking care of yourself. So m’gonna try and take care of stuff in the background so there's no worry, or sudden panic for you.”

Harry truly managed to blow her mind every day. Little things like this, his pure thoughtfulness made her a bit speechless. How she’d managed to snag the best baby daddy of all time, she didn’t know, but it would be something she was always thankful for. There wasn’t enough time to thank him for it, their food approaching as she was trying to find the words, but she was quick to squeeze his hand back and snug their legs up a bit more as she brought the straw of her smoothie to her mouth.

Life had somehow stuck her with the best person to grow with.

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jester-lover · 8 months

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Blue Haired Boy

you play with Buggy's hair while the crew is away

Cw/ Fem! terms, food, fluff, whiny Buggy, OPLA! Buggy, he's just a head in this one lol

AN/ this is just me clowning around before getting my requests done, so not beta read.

Rolling over on the hammock for the fifth time, you grabbed at the thin pillow and shoved it off and onto the floor. Something about the situation was reminiscent of being stuffed into a wonton wrapper.

God, being the new girl sucks.

You thought the crew would have found some use for you, you were a jack-of-all-trades after all, but it seemed like there was only one role left to fulfill. And as the newest member of the crew, you were responsible for the more unsavory job.

“H-ello! I know you can hear me, broccoli hairrrr~”

Buggy’s singsongy tone reminded you of that very role, clown babysitter. Sighing as the throbbing headache in your temple mixed with the sharp pain in your back, you decided to stand up and get something done, anything that could distract you from your boredom.

The bag that held the clown’s head was on the kitchen table, much to Sanji’s chagrin. Other than the slight shaking and constant talking, he was an exemplary hostage.

As you walked closer to the bag, Buggy’s frantic ravings grew louder. Some empathetic little part of you felt bad for him, so you decided to use your better judgment and give him a little fresh air. That old sack must start to stink after a while.

As you open the bag and dump out the clown’s head, he immediately sprung up and winked at you dramatically. It was as if he was trying to max out his charisma.

“Why hello..~ You’re a new face, aren’t you?”

The deadpan look you tossed his way didn’t break his disposition, instead, it seemed to egg him on.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

Buggy’s head tilted to the side before he smiled brightly.

“A pretty name for a pretty girl…”

That comment got a little chuckle out of you, and he seemingly beamed.

Gently picking him up by his head, near his ears where he wouldn’t be uncomfortable, you placed him on the kitchen counter and pulled out a small kitchen knife.

“You hungry?”

Twirling the knife in-between your fingers, you looked at him expectantly. You had always had a deep sense of domesticity towards your crew, and as he was a temporary companion, he would be receiving your support too.

“Where do you think the food would go?”

Another laugh erupted from you, this one was genuine and hearty, and Buggy’s head laughed along with you.

Good point, clown.”

You picked his head up again and brought him to your makeshift little corner of the ship, laying in your soft red hammock with Buggy on your stomach as you examined him. Your fingers slowly threaded through his hair and adjusted his bandana.

He furrowed his brows slightly, trying to discern what your motive was for the affectionate act. Something clicked in his head as he met your eyes.

“Hey! If you're gonna get all sweet with me, you could've bought me dinner first!”

Laugher came from you in droves, and the clown, clearly proud of himself, bounced a little in the air.

As you continued to fix and adjust his hair and bandana, Buggy got a little quieter, and if you looked really close, you could see a little flush on his cheeks and (what was present of) his neck.

“This hair…it’s all yours huh?”

Your fingers threaded through a particular knot in his ocean blue locks, and he sighed a little.

“Y-yeah! I mean, I don’t dye it or anything…”

A softer smile appeared on your face as you patted the top of his gorgeous hair, sure, it wasn’t the cleanest; but it was still beautiful. The blue hair complimented his eyes, and framed his face perfectly.

“It’s so thick and voluminous, you could easily grow it out.”

Buggy’s painted face reddened more at that comment, the blush was visible as his grease paint began pulling off.

His silence sort of astonished you, but it was short lived.

“You think that would look alright..?”

Before you could speak again, only to confirm his thoughts, his head lept upwards into the air dramatically.

“ABSOLUTELY IT WOULD! ANYTHING WOULD LOOK GREAT ON A HUNK LIKE ME!”

Your shared laughter echoed throughout the night, a verbal symbol of an amusingly unstable relationship between the two of you blossoming.

#reader insert #fanfic #fanfiction #female reader #fem!reader #captain buggy #op buggy #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy the genius jester #buggy opla #opla x reader #one piece x reader #one peice #one piece live action #opla #opla buggy

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genshin-scenarios · 1 month

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at your service - maid!lyney x house of hearth!reader

Summary: where you’re both on an undercover mission, and Lyney is disguised as your personal maid.

Warnings: gender isn’t specified, but you are wearing a corset and makeup.

Adopt a Wanderer: Digital Store / Red String of Fate Prompt List

When Lyney knocks on your bedroom door to check if you’re ready, your heart lurches into your throat because you are not used to wearing such expensive clothing and feel like a fool.

A corset hugs your waist, makeup dusts your cheeks and clothing fit for a baron’s child weighs on your shoulders like lead. Lyney and Lynette are too recognisable these days to play a significant undercover role, which is why you’ve been picked to act as a noble for the week in an invitational event.

It’s a normal checklist; blend in, gather intel, and escape. Lynette is already somewhere else in the building, infiltrating the staff while her brother gives you support. But all your self-consciousness immediately melts away the moment you pull open the door and meet Lyney’s eyes, suddenly hit by the fact of what his costume is.

A maid. Your maid, to be specific—and while Lyney has his hair styled with extensions to look more like a girl, you can’t shake off the oddness of seeing him in a dress and suddenly looking as nervous as you do.

“I don’t look that weird, do I?” Lyney tucks a fringe behind his ear. He’s shifting uncomfortably under the heavy layers of the maid dress, and you swallow the urge to shove him out of your room before you say something out-of-pocket.

He looks too cute.

“You look great! I mean, not that you suit being a maid, but—” You fumble to put your gloves on, then straighten your back to show you’re ready to go. “You look fine. I’d be glad to have a maid as reliable as you.”

“Technically speaking, I’m supposed to serve and attend to you the entire time we’re in this manor.” Lyney says offhandedly. “Down to your outfit changes, even.”

A flare of heat floods to your cheeks. “We— We don’t have to do all of that, do we?”

“Well… I was hoping to spoil you a little while I had the excuse.” He admits, giving you a little smile. “Since I didn’t manage to impress you with my appearance, it’s the least I can do. I hardly imagine that nobles keep around staff who aren’t endearing to them in some way.”

Blinded by your own internal panic, you don’t notice how Lyney’s laying it on thick that he’s desperate for you to admit he makes a cute maid. He’d perish otherwise, living with the knowledge that he asked Lynette to swap roles with him just so he could stay with you.

Lyney’s forgotten how these interactions tend to go; either he’s flustered, or he makes sure you are. And the more you keep a cool head, the more embarrassment creeps into his peripheral vision.

“I don’t think I have to act for people to see that I’m endeared… by you.” Your words grow quiet as your eyes widen in horror. What did he just make you say?!

Instead of a teasing comment however, you turn to see the soft quirk of Lyney’s lips. “I see. In that case,” he leans in closer to fix your hair, “I’ll do my best to keep you feeling that way.”

With a wink, Lyney puts on his magician’s flair for a second and raises your knuckles to his lips. He says it’s for good luck, just like all the other times he asks for a kiss on the cheek before a performance. You’re starting to wonder if he pulls tricks like these often on others, before remembering how Lyney would accompany you on stormy nights when you were children, reading a book in front of the fireplace.

There’s no one else you’d rather have by your side.

#alternate ending is that reader’s unfazed “leave the dresses to lynette” because lyney’s being too flirty #and he has an indignant moment of ‘but we look the same?!”#lyney x reader #lyney genshin impact #lyney x you #genshin x reader #genshin reader insert #genshin x you #genshin scenarios #genshin writing #gi lyney #traveler wishes

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chrollohearttags · 9 months

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how about we reverse the roles a little and imagine what it'd be like sending eren one of these salacious videos or FaceTime calls? (Yes this is p2 of the phone sex drabble)

catching him in the midst of leaving basketball practice for the night..tanned skin glistening with water; replacing the sheen of sweat that had previously been there. Hair pulled back and his shirt off with only a warm, white towel wrapping his waist. His phone was propped up against the side wall of his basketball locker when it began to buzz and illuminate with the notification that his favorite person in the entire world was calling.

my babymoms 💍🤎

you’d often phone him just to see how practice had gone or to inquire on whether or not he’d be stopping by or even staying for the evening. Because your apartment was a lot closer to the practice facility than his on campus dorm was, you’d let him crash at your place. Of course, that always resulted in the two of you getting in trouble you had no business in. Including ending up in the shower together or being bent over your couch because he just so happened to get that mirror pic you sent him in your thong and t-shirt. “Hey gorgeous.” The first words out of his mouth as he answered the call. But it’s what occurred once he looked up that would have him utterly speechless. In the lens. “Hey babyboy, how was practice?” A snarky giggle followed by your legs parting and your pearly white toes in the lens. But what truly had him fixated on the screen was that freshly waxed, plump little core…looking so succulent and sticky. The best part? It was all for him. At the moment, he seemed to be alone but you could hear chatter from his teammates in the distance. Even so, they weren’t a concern for either one of you. “G-good! What are you doing?” Eren questioned, whispering into the mic as he attempted to shield you from the view of anyone else. This was a party of two. With that sly grin plastered on your face, (y/n) began to massage that hairless mound, tousling your fingers around your lower lips before eventually parting them open to expose that clit. It was so swollen that the little bud was twitching on its lonesome. Your entire pussy glazed in a sheath of arousal…so needy and desperate for his touch. “What does it look like? I’m just…having a little fun.” Seductively uttering as you hook a finger underneath your bra strap to remove it. Eventually, whiny moans followed shortly after and those delicate fingers soon made home against your folds, spreading yourself wide open for his viewing pleasure. That pink flesh glistening in slick, surrounded by plump brown lips and that tight hole flexing…God, he wanted nothing more than to devour you at that very moment but instead, he’d indulge you in this mischievous little game.

“Is that right?..well you mind if I play along?” Chewing at his lower lip as he reaches downward and cups himself through the towel still coiling his waist. You brought out his absolute worst and he loved every second. “Mmphm..go ahead. Take that towel off if you’re really brave.” Daring him to really kick things up a notch. From there, you’d continue to drum up more of that wetness; smacking noises crackling through the speakers along with your sweet little cries. “I’m fucking the shit out of you when I get home, I hope you know that..” Eren muttered quietly as he continued running his hand along the tip of his cock. His precum began to stain the linen and he didn't give a damn who saw right now..he needed you so badly! With two fingertips enclosed around your nipple and the others rubbing slowly on that center. Your eyes locked intensely and when he decided to falter for just a second, you’d command him right back whilst shoving those digits knuckle deep into that warm pussy. “Fuck them..focus on me, daddy. Eyes up here..” Your middle and ring finger alternating pumping gently just to work up that milky silk clouding around your tiny hole. You’d move at a mediated pace, hoping to imitate his thrusts when he first slides in. He truly loved when you bullied him in bed, doing any and everything to make you happy. To make sure you got that nut first..

“Yesmaam..you got it...keep going baby, I’ll be there soon..” “..of course..” whimpering as you leaned forward to spit onto your already gushing center. When he stared at you like that, you’d do whatever he wanted. Speeding up, you’d begin to switch the digits out and even add your thumb back to your clit and slowly tease it, increasing its pace to drum up more. That cream was leaking everywhere, all over those fingers, the floor where a towel lie underneath you and your acrylic nails. How fluidly your digits moved in and out…he practically came at the sight. Meanwhile, he’d thrust slowly up into his enclosed fist, letting out muffled grunts in the process. He wanted more than nothing for it to be him stretching you out right now; ankle draped over his shoulder blade as he placed kisses on your instep and a hand on the headboard as it banged the wall. It’d be reality soon enough but for now, you guys continued playing with yourselves and hoping that no one interrupted. Especially since your climax was nearing.

“ ‘Ren….ooh fuck. Imma come, baby..imma fucking come.” You’d begin to gasp and heave, knowing you couldn’t hold back much longer. By the amount you were frothing alone, he could also see that you were probably ovulating, which meant he’d have your birth control working overtime tonight. “I know, mama. I know…but not yet. Need you to tell me who’s pussy that is..tell me.” Alas, you were too busy moaning. A complete wreck of stimulation and tears. That little tongue wagging around and dripping with drool, unable to keep it in your mouth. And you knew better than to defy because that would only make it much worse when he got there. After he finished eating you out until your eyes took permanent residence in the back of your fucking skull, he’d dick you down until your legs couldn’t function. “Shit!” “C’mon, say it…or you better wait until I get there.”

but there was not a single question who got it this wet! It was forever one person… “you, ‘Ren..it’s yours! It’s all yours…please let me come..” unbeknownst to you, he was close as well. Pumping that first around his shaft and squeezing that tip until it began to leak everywhere. By this time, neither of you could withstand it and he’d grant you permission. “Good girl..you can let go now.” Knowing what was about to happen next and that brought about a wide smile on his face. Letting out a loud gasp, along with his name, (y/n)’s tilted backwards and with that moan came a powerful stream of squirt to follow. That wetness splattering your screen and nearly knocking it over. Your legs trembled and you shook uncontrollably trying to ride that orgasm. Right behind you was his own and you’d hear his breath hitch in his throat and as quietly as he could muster, Eren busted his own load, leaving a warm nut in that towel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck..shit, baby!” Nearly collapsing to the floor from how lightheaded he became. Once the two of you came to, you’d burst into laughter and just revel in the moment. Unable to believe that it just happened.

“You’re such a troublemaker, (y/n). You know that?” “Yeah, but you love it…” licking your fingers clean of those remnants and tasting yourself. Just to see the effect you had on him, he’d angle the camera downward so you could see the mess he had concocted, to which you’d only reply with an ‘oops.’ He’d finish getting himself cleaned up and try to regroup; tossing on a t- shirt and a pair of sweats, something he could quickly tear off when he made it to you. Because he needed a couple more rounds and with his stamina, it was possible. Finally, he’d toss on his backpack and just at that moment, you’d both hear someone calling out to him. “Hey, Eren! You ready?” The voice belonged to his best friend but his attention was all yours..

“Hey, baby. Be just like that when I get there, okay? We got a lil business to handle.” Shooting you a wink afterwards along with a kiss before ending the call.

All yours once he made it back.

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va-3 · 4 months

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They're Injured

Masterlist

Joker:

Joker was always being hunted, shot at, and chased in car chases. Yes, you were always with him, and it technically was your job to sacrifice your life for his if it eventually came to such a point, but Mr. J had switched the roles. A gunfight had broken out in Mr. J's club. You'd repeated yourself at least ten times, yelling at Mr. J to get him to either leave or get down. Instead, he managed to switch roles and send you rolling under a table to watch him get shot in the shoulder. It goes to say that you were as pissed as you were worried, seeing that your greeting to him later was a sharp punch to the stomach followed by a passionate kiss.

Captain Boomerang:

Digger was used to being in the line of fire, and was less than worried when he took a shot to the leg in a less than pleasant robbery. You, on the other hand, upon discovery of his wild adventure and injury, panicked in the most subtle way possible. Unfortunately, subtle in your dictionary was drive over to his house at 2am, kick down the door, scold him, and then proceed to break down crying.

Deadshot:

In his line of work it was not unusual for him to be hunted in return, as was the occasional "battle-wound". You, on the other hand, found yourself worrying more than you should've. Death was a difficult enemy of mortals, not you, therefore you were entitled to the worry and fear that accompanied the blossoming of your relationship. Needless to say, you had him on a house lock-in for quite some time after his shoulder had been shot clean through. (snuggles were very much included)

El Diablo:

Injuries in battle were hard to avoid, as were near death experiences. You watched in horror as Chato shoved the ancient being towards the location of a lethally powerful charge. When it went off, you were nowhere to be found for a good few seconds. The team was confused until they heard you sobbing from behind the blasted ground, cradling an unconscious, severely injured, but alive Chato.

Killer Croc:

Waylon, bruised an battered after the battle with Enchantress, was pleasantly surprised when you body-slammed/bear-hugged him to near death. You'd never been so worried in your entire life, and although the injuries he sustained were little, your entire being was telling you he was gonna die. It was hard to explain that he was okay through your mix of blubbering and cursing.

Harley Quinn:

When Harleen freed you from your solitary-confinement room, she was not herself. You were happy to see her, but the joy was quickly overrun with worry when you spotted the two burn marks on either side of her temple left behind by what you knew was electroshock. Concerned, you questioned her like an officer would a criminal until she gave out and let you tend to her wounds before fleeing the cursed institution(no regrets there).

June Moone:

June's well being meant everything to you, any moment you felt she was in danger you try your hardest to keep her from it. But mental damage was something you could not fight, or shoot. June was tormented nightly by the dangerous being using her as a vessel, and it broke you to know that you could not do anything about it. Instead, you did your best to comfort her: held her close, calmed her with kisses, and gave her the love she needed to mend her broken soul. With your love, June felt the power to face anything.

Enchantress:

The mortal soldier held your love's heart in his hands, threatening to crush everything you loved for something he loved. When she refused, your eyes flashed with panic. The soldier began to crush her heart, causing her to shriek with unbelievable pain. Terrified of losing the only person who saw you as a blessing, you snatched the heart from the soldier in a bolt of light. In the flash of light, time slowed around you, giving you just enough time to sway Enchantress' spirit from the human girls body and into one you summoned from your own power. You and your lover backed away from the mortal and his human lover, happy to be safe.

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shaunamilfman · 5 months

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Being Shauna Shipman's Controversially Young Girlfriend

Adult Timeline Headcanons

nsfw mention

Shauna’s been divorced from Jeff for a few years for the sake of the plot. I think she'd be a writer maybe.

Shauna definitely enjoys the confidence booster that dating someone in their 20s would give her for sure. Shauna is very confident in her own attractiveness, but the idea of pulling someone that young really gets her going.

At the same she'd be extremely jealous of you interacting with attractive women your own age as she'd feel strangely threatened by it in her more insecure moments. She's definitely the ‘pull you away to make out in a back hallway’ type. She's got you pressed up against the wall covering you in hickeys asking stupidly jealous questions that you're far too focused on the feeling of her mouth to answer. Like what do you mean “is she hotter than me?” You just shoved my hand in your pants??

Leaving the function looking like you've been mauled by a bear while Shauna glares at whoever happened to speak to you.

Shauna is a jealous and possessive partner in general but older Shauna is on crack. you're lucky to ever leave the house without being covered in hickeys in various stages of healing. she wants you to give them to her too. there's just something about physical representations of “ownership” that drives her insane. She likes when people see you together and know that you're both taken.

college freshman Callie coming home a few days early and catching you standing in the kitchen in nothing but boxers and her mom's old high school t-shirt. this leads into the most awkward dinner ever because Shauna needs everyone to at least be civil. Callie making snarky comments all night until you finally make one back mean enough that she reaches a begrudging understanding with you. she still takes every opportunity to mock the two of you unfortunately.

"please please please let me punch Callie" / "absolutely not”

Shauna calls you her step mother as a fuck you whenever Callie gets annoying. she's so petty

god Callie’s all in your business all the time but i also think she'd also be the first to defend you if someone else said anything though

side note but TaiVan would definitely serve you food on one of those kid plates to fuck with Shauna. God she'd be so mad.

unlike my Lottie HCs i do think Shauna would be embarrassed to meet your friends. Like the absolute queen of communication she is she would tell you she was embarrassed of the idea, but would instead pick increasingly petty fights with you leading up to it. Shauna finally ends the cold war when she misses you too much and confesses how she feels about it. You've definitely got to comfort her by showing her texts from your friends asking about your hot milf girlfriend or something before she'll be confident enough to do it.

divorced Shauna would be pretty experienced sex wise I feel. Shauna Shipman is a woman who enjoys sex and seems pretty confident in her sexuality. Given the chance she'd definitely be really into exploring it with different partners. Long story short is that I think Shauna is definitely a woman who knows what she likes, but would be very open to exploring things sexually with you if she didn't already know she didn't like it. Shauna's not very open with her emotions, but I do think she's very open with her sexuality. This is a woman who canonly agrees to furniture store role play i think she'd humor you in most things.

writer Shauna for sure works from a home office and would go crazy about the idea of yall hooking up in there fr

Shauna would get off on the idea of teaching things to you even if it's not necessarily true. She'd definitely like it if you let her pretend she was teaching you how to get her off. Your comparable inexperience is something she really enjoys about your age difference.

Shauna Shipman and pet names is a lethal combination. “Sweetie” this, “sweetheart” that, “is that okay honey?” shauna is so nurturing when given the chance she'd thrive with someone she felt like she needed to take care of

Older Shauna enjoying teaching you things extends beyond just sex. She likes to teach you how to cook things that you don't know by like hugging you from behind and resting her head on your shoulder as she directs you on what to do. Beyond that it also just makes her feel useful and she enjoys feeling that way.

Shauna hits you up once a week asking how bluetooth works. Shauna's okay with technology but she's the slowest fucking typer. I definitely think Callie lies to her about what acronyms mean so you get the wildest fucking texts sometimes and she's like “what??” when your confused

Shauna loves when you steal her clothes. just lounging around her house in nothing but her boxers and her flannel and she's going insane. Shauna accidently misplaces your clothes all the time so you have to wear hers instead. “oh i must have put them in the laundry you can wear mine” but suspiciously there's already shorts and a t-shirt laying out on her bed. strange.

she's loves making you dinner, or making you something for lunch every once and a while. there's something about watching you eat something she made that makes her feel important and valued.

Older Shauna gives the best fucking hugs of your life bro. Coming home from a bad day and just sitting with Shauna while she hugs you so tightly you can barely breathe. Shauna kissing you on the top of your head while her arm is around you watching TV?? insane

#shauna shipman x reader #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #minors dni

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fettuccinealfred0 · 3 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Epilogue

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 13k

(CW: SMUT 18+, face sitting, cunnilingus, overstimulation, blow jobs, fingering, unprotected p in v, some cute role playing, Astarion really likes the sound of his own voice)

Summary:

You feel Astarion’s hand move, his thumb running along the length of your palm up to brush against the ring on his finger.

“We met at my ball. A year ago, tonight.”

Though the beat of your heart is missing and it no longer flutters away inside your chest, a familiar warmth spreads through your veins all the same.

“Happy anniversary,” you say and you feel a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Not yet, my love,” Astarion says, but he smiles just as wide. “Not for another two days.”

Read on ao3 here

You could watch Astarion sleep forever. His mouth hangs open slightly and his gentle breathing mixes with the sound of waves. His face is so soft when he’s asleep and with the sun shining off his hair, he can only be described as angelic.

The two of you are still on the beach, laying on the blanket spread out over the rock. Your feet are tangled with Astarion’s as you curl on your side to watch him doze. Touching. Always touching. The thought makes you smile.

When he wakes up, his long, pale lashes blink open slowly and his arms reach out to pull you tighter against him. You shower his face with kisses and he basks in your affection.

By the late afternoon, the two of you decide to finally head back to the cottage. There had been a tentative plan for your first day in the sun which most certainly did involve you and Astarion making love on the beach, but which did not account for how long that would take. You probably should have woken Astarion up if you wanted to stick to the schedule, but he was sleeping so peacefully beside you and it seemed like a crime to disturb him.

And besides, it’s not like the two of you were in a rush- being immortal meant there would be endless time for you both to explore the abilities that Mephistopheles had returned to you.

As you watch Astarion lazily pull on his trousers and shrug back on his shirt, you can’t help but think that he can be a little right sometimes- it is rather devastating to lose sight of his perfect body.

After watching him dress, you push yourself up from sitting on the rock, sliding your chemise and your loosened corset over your head.

“Help, please,” you say, turning your back to Astarion so he can help lace up your corset.

“Now, why would I do that? Helping you back in your clothes doesn’t benefit me in the slightest.”

“Astarion,” you whip around to face him with narrowed eyes. “If you aren’t going to help me, then you’re the one that’s going up to the house to fetch Shadowheart because there is no way I am walking back up there with my corset in hand like some kind of cheap harlot. And you know Shadowheart is going to be exceptionally ill-tempered if you bother her since I gave her the day off.”

You watch as he weighs out which option he finds more annoying in his head.

“Turn around,” he grumbles. He drops a kiss to your shoulder and sighs. “You know, I have a love-hate relationship with this thing. I can’t deny that it makes your breasts look wonderful, but if you’re wearing it, that means I can’t actually see them, which is a travesty.”

“Poor Astarion,” you tease. “For he cannot always be touching his wife’s perfect breasts.”

“No,” he teases back, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Sometimes, I have to touch her cunt instead.”

“You’re too clever for your own good.” You playfully shove his head off your shoulder and he laughs, hands finally moving to help with your corset.

You know he does a purposefully bad job lacing it up. It doesn’t bother you too much because you also know that Astarion would likely be encouraging you to shed the offending garment from your body almost immediately upon your return to the house.

You reward him for his troubles with a peck on the cheek. Astarion seemingly deems it not enough payment for his efforts because he grabs your hips and dips you back into a bruising kiss that leaves you a bit weak in the knees. After a few more kisses, the two of you take your time walking back up to the cottage, your entwined fingers swinging loosely between you.

When you enter, there’s a lavish spread of food in the kitchen- meats and cheeses and fancy chocolate desserts. The two of you had told the kitchen staff to make everything but evidently you had underestimated how much everything there was.

When you sneak a peek at Astarion’s face, he looks a bit too overwhelmed by all the choices so you take over, instructing the kitchen staff to bring wine and to load a tray full of berries and sweet little tarts and the fancy chocolate desserts and deliver it all to your and Astarion’s bedroom. You aren’t sure why, but you have the sneaking suspicion that Astarion has a bit of a sweet tooth.

When the staff ask what to do with the rest of the food, you tell them to throw a feast of their own tonight.

And as you expected, the moment the door is shut to the bedroom, Astarion is pulling his shirt back off and helping you strip back out of your clothes to pull you onto the bed with him.

As the two of you lounge on the bed together, you press different fruits to Astarion’s lips for him to taste. It hadn’t been that long since you’d eaten, but watching Astarion was something special. The way his eyes closed in pleasure. The way he would let out a little moan when he tasted something he really liked. The way he would lean over to lick the up the juices that ran down your arm when you fed him a particularly juicy strawberry.

Eventually, you both grow bored of the food and the tray lays discarded on the other side of the room. The two of you curl into one another, sated and content.

Astarion’s hand rests on your stomach and you absentmindedly roll his wedding ring around his finger as you watch the curtains swaying in the breeze. The sun dips back down over the horizon.

Astarion knocks his head lightly against yours to guide your attention back to him.

“It’s been a year now, you know.”

You turn your head to look at him quizzically. “A year?”

You aren’t even sure you know the date, let alone why it holds any special significance outside the fact that it was your first day in the sunlight. You had unfortunately lost track of time in your haze of being a newborn vampire.

You feel Astarion’s hand move, his thumb running along the length of your palm up to brush against the ring on his finger.

“We met at my ball. A year ago, tonight.”

Though the beat of your heart is missing and it no longer flutters away inside your chest, a familiar warmth spreads through your veins all the same.

“Happy anniversary,” you say and you feel a goofy smile spreading across your face.

“Not yet, my love,” Astarion says, but he smiles just as wide. “Not for another two days.”

You roll your eyes affectionately but the two of you continue smiling at one another until Astarion leans over to kiss you. The sweet press of his lips against yours deepens as his tongue slides into your mouth. You whine when he pulls away.

“Always so needy, always so desperate for me,” Astarion murmurs.

You huff out a laugh and stretch lazily, playfully elbowing him. “Keep talking like that and I’ll rescind the comment I was going to make that I like you better now than I did at this time last year.”

Astarion simply smiles at your insincere taunt and props his head up on his hand, looking down on you with the hungry eyes of a predator playing with its food.

“I don’t know, I found it rather amusing when you held that butter knife up to my throat.”

“That’s just because you thought I didn’t know how to use it. You know better now.”

He gives you a condescending, arrogant smile. “It’s cute that you still think you can get the upper hand on me.”

And because you like nothing more in this world than proving people wrong, you reach out, quickly wrapping a leg around Astarion’s hip and pressing on his shoulders to push him backward so you are sitting on top of him, straddling him. You catch his hands with yours, lovingly threading your fingers together before you wrench his hands over his head.

He doesn’t even try to fight back, which is boring.

“Still don’t think I have the upper hand?” you ask.

“No, I know you don’t.” Astarion’s arms flex underneath yours, pushing back against your hold. There’s a hidden strength there.

“And yet, I’m the one who came out on top.”

You squeeze his hands to accentuate your point, a silent reminder that he is the one at your mercy right now.

“Cute,” Astarion says and you shoot him a glare.

And then, with the graceful elegance of a cat, Astarion manages to flip the two of you so that he is the one pinning you down on the bed.

“But just know, darling, the only reason you were there is because I adore having you on top of me.”

You test his hold on your arms but he’s stronger than he looks and your hands are locked in an iron vice.

“Fine, you win,” you admit reluctantly.

“And what do I get as my prize?” Astarion’s got a mischievous little gleam in his eye that spells trouble.

“What do you want?”

He drags his nose down your throat, inhaling your scent. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to ask for a bite. A silly request considering you had never refused him in the past. But Astarion simply retraces his path up your neck, gliding his tongue along your skin.

“Touch yourself,” he rasps, tongue skimming the shell of your ear. “Let me watch.”

Astarion rolls off you, sprawling among the pillows on the bed. His gaze trails along your body like a caress. Down the curve of your shoulder, over the valley of your breasts. Perfect, he had called them earlier. His eyes continue lower, staring expectantly at the juncture of your thighs.

“Well,” Astarion says impatiently. “I’m waiting.”

Beneath his cocky veneer, you recognize that this is Astarion asking your permission, presenting you with the opportunity to deny him. But what idiotic person would ever do that? Who wouldn’t allow the moon and stars to worship them?

You sit yourself up to lean back against the wall of pillows on the bed and you spread your legs open before him. Astarion inches closer ever so slightly, staring at you with the same awed fascination of a man looking upon the divine.

You really put on a show for him, too- taking the time to let your hands wander your skin. His tongue darts out, wetting his perfect red lips, almost as if he is already fantasizing about the taste of you on his tongue.

When your hand finally makes contact with your cunt, you move your fingers in the way that you have taught yourself over the years, chasing after climax in moments of pent up frustration. Straightforward. To the point.

“No, slow down,” Astarion instructs. “I want to watch you struggle. Only when you have reached the heights of your desperation, only when you have gone delirious with need, only when you beg for it, will I grant you the release you so desire.”

You slow your movements. It’s a poor imitation of what you know Astarion is capable of- all clumsy where his hands are deft, all amateur where he is pure grace.

“Tell me how it feels,” he orders, propping himself up to move closer to you.

“Good,” you tell him, honestly. Because it does feel good. Just not as good as you know it could.

Astarion’s eyes narrow when he senses your hesitance. “What else?”

“Not the same as yours…” you confess in a whisper and you feel your skin flushing with heat. “Gods, the things you can do with your hands could bring the world to ruin.”

“Would you like that?” Astarion’s fingers stroke along your ankle, sending streaks of pleasure curling up around your legs, straight to your aching clit, which you roll slippery circles against with your fingers. “Would you like for me to bring you the world, bloody and bruised in my hands, and present it to you as a token of my love?”

You aren’t entirely sure whether Astarion genuinely means this or if this is a role he is adopting for this moment. All you know is that the desperate whine that forces its way from your chest is agonizingly real.

“You liked that, did you, pet?” Astarion chuckles, all dark and deep and sending a chill down your spine. “You want to hear how I’d burn the world for you? How I’d take the charred remains and mold it in your shape?” His thumb traces little circles around your ankle bone. “I would have blotted out the sun for you. I would have made it rain death and darkness and chaos if we had not found our cure. I would have drowned the world in corruption and laid the soaking remains at your feet.”

And you know he’s not lying- that in another life, all these words are true. It shouldn’t turn you on. It does anyway.

Astarion’s hands burn where they brush your calf. He touches you possessively, as if your body was simply an extension of his own.

And if he will not touch you where you need him the most, you will let yourself drown in his voice. You will let his words caress your skin where his hands will not. You will hear more of how this man you love would destroy the world, if only you asked.

“More,” you plead with him and he grins arrogantly.

He speaks with a newfound confidence, fingers running up and down your calf, but never any higher.

“Just think of what we’re going to do to them, my beloved. All those fools… They think they know what true power looks like, but we’ll show them. We’ll rule from the shadows. And you, my queen, only need to point. I shall be your weapon. I shall be the one to enact your ruthless judgment upon the world.”

Astarion is relishing in the sound of his own voice, as well. His other hand falls down to languidly stroke his cock. There’s a lovely bead of moisture at the tip and your mouth waters, you want nothing more than to lean over and take him in your mouth, to let his hands thread in your hair as he guides your mouth along his hard length…

Astarion gently nips at your thigh, drawing your attention back to him.

“And do you know how I plan to begin my crusade?” he asks, but doesn’t give you any time to answer. “I’ll start with all those men. Anyone who ever looked at you as less than the goddess you are. Any of them who spoke- No, dared to even think of you in a degrading, vulgar manner. Any of them who merely wasted your time by boring you with their presence.”

Astarion’s hand curls around your knee, slender fingers brushing the sensitive skin along the back and making you shiver. He wrenches your leg open wider, giving himself a better view of the way your fingers slide along your cunt.

His gaze stays transfixed on your cunt as he speaks. “I’ll kill them all.”

You shouldn’t want that but oh, you do. That bloodthirsty, hungry part of you wants nothing more than to watch Astarion rip those men limb from limb, to watch him bathe himself in their blood and allow you to lick it clean from his skin afterward.

You reward Astarion by sinking one of your fingers into yourself and his mouth hangs open in awe. Slowly, his head has moved closer to you and your obscene wetness makes you acutely aware of each panting breath he releases. His grip tightens desperately around your knee, as if he is having to clutch onto you to hold himself back from reaching out to touch you.

You move your finger slowly, letting the palm of your heel continue to graze against your aching clit. It’s not enough. It’s not Astarion- you aren’t full enough, your fingers don’t curl and hit that spot Astarion always manages to find.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” Astarion whispers in breathless praise and you feel the way your cunt tightens around your finger. You know that if he was buried deep inside you, that would have made him moan and his hips would stutter before he rutted into you even faster, even harder.

“What did I ever do before you?” He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh. “Do you have any idea how it feels to gaze upon perfection?”

Yes, you think. You know that feeling intimately as perfection is gazing up at you right now, his head resting in your lap as his blood-red eyes devour you.

His voice is low and dark. “For months, I kept myself away from you, spent my time longing and pining and waiting for you to return to my arms. For months, all I had to sustain myself on was the memories of your silken skin. Of the pool of nectar hidden between your thighs. Of the noises you make. Oh,” Astarion cries out and his hand picks up speed where it strokes his cock. “Those pretty noises. I missed those the most.”

You make one such noise now- a desperate, gasping moan.

Astarion’s eyes are ruthless when they dart up to your face. “If you ever left me-”

“Never,” you cut him off.

You’ll speak with him about that insecurity later- assuage him and assure him until every doubt has been killed from his mind. But not now. Now is the time to feed into this wonderful power fantasy the two of you are discovering together.

You let out another sound, a pitiful whine, annoyed that your hands have brought you teetering so close to the precipice of bliss with no hope of falling over it.

“Do you need me that badly, pet?” Astarion chides, his hand mercifully moving higher up your leg, closer, so close, almost right there, nearly at the spot you need him to touch you. He stops. You nearly sob.

“I wouldn’t have let you leave me anyway,” he hisses, fingers digging into the flesh of your hip so hard that you worry it would leave bruises if you were still human. And thank the gods you aren’t if it means Astarion can clutch at you with such desperate abandon with little to no consequences to you. “Besides, if you had, I would have followed you. Anywhere you went, to the ends of the earth. Understand?”

You nod.

You know there is a metaphorical truth to his words. If you wanted, Astarion would have let you leave. But his heart would have followed after you. Just as surely as yours would have stayed with him.

“You have to say it if you want me to touch you.” You feel Astarion smirking where his mouth rests against your thigh. He has enjoyed this- has enjoyed watching you back yourself into a corner. Now, it was time for him to pounce.

“I understand.”

Astarion descends with the ferocity of a man whose very last shred of control was hanging on by a thread. He sucks your fingers into his mouth, messy and ravenous, as if he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your arousal. His own hand quickly takes over, slipping a finger inside you and curling it so good. Your hands claw desperately at the sheets.

You come almost immediately. After so much build up, it was little wonder it would happen so quickly. What is a wonder is that Astarion immediately pulls his hand and mouth away from you rather than driving you repeatedly to the brink of madness like you had expected.

For lack of a better term, the whole thing is anticlimactic.

Astarion, seemingly sensing your disappointment, reclines back on the pillows behind him.

“Well, come on, then.” He gives your ass an affectionate pat, silently instructing you to move on top of him. “I’ve given you one. You’ll have to work for the rest of them.”

You crawl over to him, moving to sling your leg around his hips, wanting nothing more than to grind yourself against his cock and guide him into you.

“Not there, pet,” he catches your leg, reflexes still somehow lightning quick even when you know he has to be distracted by how hard he is.

“Sit on my face,” Astarion says, using his grip on your leg to pull your knee up by his shoulder.

And out of everything that has happened today- from making a deal with an archdevil to watching a breathtaking sunrise to discovering Astarion has a penchant for blackberries- this request is what has shocked you the most.

“But what about you?”

Astarion laughs, his soft fingers stroking along the back of your leg. “My motivations are not selfless, if that’s what concerns you, little flower. Your cunt is my favorite meal. I need to spend time appreciating it with these new taste buds. And besides, this bed is just so comfortable. You’ll forgive me if I want to lay back and relax while I feast for once.”

“But I want you to feel good, too,” you pout.

“I assure you, I do.” Astarion tugs more insistently on your hip and you move, knees framing either side of his head.

“You can stop whenever you want.”

“I know, my love,” Astarion’s face softens and he catches your left hand, bringing it to his lips so he can press a kiss to your knuckles, right under your wedding ring. “Now, as much as I appreciate you checking in with me, you’re keeping me from my plans of drowning between your thighs.”

His arms, soft and surprisingly strong, wrap around your hips and pull you down. His nose brushes along the thatch of hair on your pubic bone before he continues to move it lower. And for a moment, the two of you sit like that, with you shivering in anticipation and Astarion simply breathing against your cunt.

And then, his mouth is on you and there’s lightning running through your veins. He presses an open mouthed kiss to your cunt before his tongue flattens and he licks.

You feel his strangled groan reverberating in your own bones as he continues lapping. His nose brushes against your clit and you have to reach out one of your hands to steady yourself on the headboard. Your other hand winds its way into Astarion’s hair, tugging at the white curls whenever he does something especially wonderful. Which is… pretty much always.

When the gods made Astarion, they surely started with his tongue.

The whole time, his hands stroke and knead along the flesh of your thighs and ass, guiding you to start rolling your hips. It has his nose moving against your clit in a way that has you seeing stars and gasping for air.

Astarion leads to climax again. And again. And again.

Astarion plays your body like it is a violin and he is your virtuoso. He plucks and pulls at the strings, creating a symphony of music that threatens to overwhelm you. Your thighs ache and burn and still you continue rolling your hips against his face. Still, he continues to lap at your cunt with the fervor of a dying man.

At some point, you have transcended your corporeal form. Nothing else exists but these waves of pleasure- constant, unending.

Surely, the ringing you hear in your ears is some form of holy communion. Surely, the gods in the heavens have finally noticed Astarion missing from their ranks and have come to summon him home.

Your grip in his hair slackens. Your head bows in reverence.

It takes you far too long to register that Astarion’s mouth is no longer upon you.

“There you are,” He says, voice a low rasp. “You were missing from me for a moment.”

His beauty is stunning. His chin is glistening, his lips are red and swollen, his white curls are messy and wild. And best of all, he’s got that pretty, pink blush on his cheeks.

Astarion’s hands continue rubbing soothingly along your thighs, anchoring you back to your body.

“Too much, too good,” you slur out.

Your whole body feels all delightfully fuzzy and light as air.

Astarion slides out from underneath your legs and gathers you in his arms. You’re sure that you are very moldable and easy to move around right now since you think you might have turned into liquid.

You feel Astarion lips brush against your forehead as he wraps his arms tighter around you. Faintly, you register him praising how good you did, how you listened so well, how you gifted him with yet another lovely moment to cherish forever. The whole time, his fingers knead gently into your muscles, easing away the dull aching in your hips. You simply sigh and curl further into him.

“We should have a ball,” you say, tracing your fingers in little heart shapes over his chest. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Our anniversary.”

Astarion’s lips press against your forehead. “We’ll have as many balls as you want. Gods, you can have whatever you want, you only need to say the word and I’ll get it for you. Or, well- I’ll have someone else get it for you, more likely.”

You giggle. “What about a kiss?”

“Hm, I think I can handle that by myself.”

—-----------------

FOUR YEARS LATER

The dress you're wearing tonight truly is breathtaking. In the past, the price of the red silk alone would have nearly made your jaw drop, but you had gotten used to prices like that after years of Astarion waving them away like they were nothing.

‘What’s the point of money if you aren’t going to spend it,’ Astarion had said.

After the dressmaker had finished construction, Astarion had spent weeks embroidering the material. The front of the gown only hinted at the masterful craftsmanship- just a delicate chain of flowers along your waist, but the long train which followed you was decadent to the extreme. The lovely red had been nearly covered in the shimmery gold thread, a garden following behind you.

Astarion had said it was some of his best work to date and had praised you as his muse.

And the past few months, you had gotten to enjoy a lot of time watching him as the two of you sat out in the gardens in the sunlight, entranced by how his fingers were able to move the tiny silver needle so easily, spinning gold seemingly out of thin air. He never pricked himself, like you and the roses.

And of course, Astarion had insisted that the two of you matched. His waistcoat was the same blood red fabric covered in flowers that he had embroidered.

Astarion had even humored you by letting you sew some little stars onto the inner lining of his waistcoat, right over his unbeating heart. He had feigned that he had been doing you some big favor, allowing you to put your mark on his body, but you caught how his eyes went a little misty when he saw your work.

“You look wonderful, darling,” Astarion slides up behind you as stand before the mirror, attempting to clasp the ruby necklace behind your neck. His hands meet your own and he deftly clasps the chain into place before wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Your reflection grins back at him.

“We can see our reflections and still, the mirror doesn’t do you justice,” Astarion says, nose trailing over your collarbone to the juncture of your neck where he always likes to bite down. He surprises you by redirecting instead, coming up to whisper huskily in your ear, “The way this fabric hugs your body, the way the silk brings out the red in your eyes, the way the diamonds in your hair shine like stars in the night sky, those are all things too lovely to be captured by a simple pane of glass.”

You turn your head toward him and Astarion lips move closer and closer to yours with each word until they are just a hair’s breadth away. The anticipation is killing you, but you hold steady, daring him to meet you.

He brings his hand up to gently cradle the back of your head-

“Don’t mess up her hair!” Shadowheart yells from across the room, where she’s fiddling with all the leftover hairpins. She huffs quietly to herself, “I spent forever on that.”

You and Astarion are shocked out of your trance, his hand immediately dropping away from your hair. Astarion is so startled by her presence that his cool facade even slips for a moment as he mutters out a quiet ‘sorry.’

“What’s she still doing here?” He whispers to you just loud enough that you know Shadowheart can hear and roll her eyes.

You use the opportunity to slip out of his arms and continue getting ready.

“I asked her to stay,” you tell him, pulling the gloves up your arms. You watch the twin marks on your wrist disappear as you slide on the silken white fabric. “I don’t trust myself around you and I’m determined to get down to the ball on time this year.”

You hold out your wrist so Astarion can clasp the slippery little buttons along the side. He just stares at you for a moment, giving you a look like ‘you know this kind of task is beneath me’ and you jut your wrist at him a bit more insistently and he rolls his eyes as he grabs your arm.

“I assure you, little flower,” Astarion says as he buttons your glove, placing a delicate kiss to your wrist before he moves on to the other. “You would have made it to the ball on time.”

“That’s what you said last year. And then we ended up being an hour late.”

No, if you were allowed to be alone with Astarion, he would surely have already bent you over your vanity by now and your throat would be decorated by a necklace of his bite marks. And as beautiful as blood and jewels go together, it would have certainly distracted from the ornate ruby necklace Astarion had given you as a fifth anniversary present.

Five years. Has it really been that long already? Or have you simply been too happy to notice the time passing?

“I don’t recall hearing any complaints from you last year, my love. In fact, I do believe you said ‘more’ quite a few times,” Astarion’s hand drops and rests heavily on your hip. “And besides, who cares what those idiots think?”

“We have to at least pretend to care about propriety, darling,” you remind Astarion and he rolls his eyes. You know he’s going to say something like ‘fuck propriety, let the world know how a true man satisfies his wife,’ so you gently rearrange the folds of his cravat as you speak, “There’s going to be a lot of important people here tonight. We need to uphold their high opinion of us if we hope to continue to use them.”

“I love the way you think,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eye, pulling you back into his arms.

Shadowheart loudly clears her throat and Astarion glares at her but steps away from you.

“Don’t be upset, husband, there’s still plenty of time to let you plant your seed in my garden tonight,” you say, giving Astarion a big wink at your double entendre.

He looks mortified for a moment before he’s practically falling over in laughter. “Be honest, little flower, how long have you been waiting to use that line?”

“It just came to me.”

Astarion tilts your chin up, a devilish smirk on his beautiful face. “That won’t be the only thing coming in you tonight.”

“You two are strange and… off-putting.” Shadowheart has a look of disgust on her face that has you burying your head in Astarion’s chest to laugh.

“Speaking of strange, Lae’zel is going to be here tonight. I’m sure she’d love it if you made an appearance downstairs long enough for her to ask you for a dance,” Astarion says and Shadowheart’s face turns bright red as she tries to excuse herself from the room as quickly as possible.

“Look at what you did!” You cry out. “You chased off a perfectly good Shadowheart!”

“Yes, but now I can finally do this.”

Astarion leans down to kiss you, careful to keep his hands resting on your hips and far away from your ornate hairstyle. You sigh happily against his lips and he presses a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth before he pulls away.

“You ready?” he asks, holding his arm out to you.

You tuck yourself into his side and the two of you make your way down to the party.

Of course, because this is a ball hosted by Astarion, there’s a big fanfare at your entrance as your names are announced. The two of you descend down the stairs with the grace and elegance that only two vampires can possess. When you reach the ballroom, people are swarming the two of you immediately, begging to speak with you and offer their congratulations on your anniversary.

The gentry were practically throwing themselves at your feet and what were you supposed to do? Stop them? No, not when it was so much more fun to encourage them.

You and Astarion make your initial rounds, but your eyes continue scanning the crowds. You hope your father comes again this year. It always fills you with glee, the fact that he shows up every year and is forced to celebrate your anniversary with Astarion. Forced to watch you be happy and in love and thriving. That he continues to grow old and wither away while you and Astarion retain your youthful glows.

You spot him over by the wine and you’re filled with the wicked thought that maybe one year, you would kill him, make it look like a drunken old fool had stumbled out into the woods and been attacked by an animal.

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back. Touching. Always touching. His breath whispers against your ear, “Oh, I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that glare. Tell me, wife, who do you want me to kill for you tonight?”

“No one,” you think for a moment. “Yet.”

A sly grin spreads across your husband’s face. “Only speak the words and it shall be done. I am yours to command.”

“Oh, I know you are, pet,” you tease him, trying to sound like him. You even give him a little pat on the cheek for added effect. Astarions bares his fangs playfully at you.

“Come dance with me, I’m bored,” you tug on his hand.

You let Astarion wrap you in his arms and spin you around the dancefloor.

“Should I be hurt that you aren’t tripping over your feet at the sight of me anymore, little flower?”

“No, I just have expensive tastes now,” you giggle. “I fear I’m growing too used to awe-inspiring beauties such as yours.”

Astarion’s hand moves down your back, just a bit too low to be acceptable. “Sounds like you’re getting too spoiled.”

“I’m not the one to blame for that problem, star. Not when you insist on buying me far too many lavish gifts.”

“You might be right,” Astarion agrees with a chuckle. “I just can’t help myself. My gifts always look so beautiful on you and your face always lights up so bright. It’s addictive, your smile.”

You smile brightly up at him and Astarion looks upon you with adoration.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Wyll interrupts with a friendly hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “But I believe I was promised a dance?”

He bows elegantly and extends his hand out.

“Wyll!” You cry out happily. “You know that I always save a dance for you!”

“Who said I was asking you?” Wyll playfully holds his hand out to Astarion, who feigns a delighted shock. “Lord Ancunin, if I may.”

“Cute,” you say, looking between the two of them and pouting. “But you can dance with Astarion later. Right now, it’s my turn.”

They both laugh.

“Have fun.” Astarion drops a kiss on your cheek and passes you off to Wyll. “I’ll go speak with Lord Idril about our stance on the upcoming council vote. He’s the last person we need to sway.”

The upcoming vote was about providing relief to farmers after a particularly long and harsh winter. You and Astarion really did try to use your influence for good from time to time honestly.

The two of you simply had your own methods for doing good that others might qualify as ‘morally questionable’ and ‘deeply manipulative.’

Astarion glides away with a charming smile on his face, waving at adoring nobles as he passes by like he’s the king himself.

“I can’t even imagine the size of his ego by the end of the night,” Wyll says.

You don’t mind too much, Astarion with an ego in public turned into a mouthy Astarion in the bedroom later. The ego boost of the ball was most certainly worth it if you were the one to reap the rewards at the end of the night.

But you’re fairly certain that Wyll doesn’t want to hear about your methods for taming a wild Astarion so you turn the conversation back to him with a friendly smile.

“How have you been?” you ask as the two of you begin to step in time to the music.

“Can’t complain. Karlach and I have been traveling along the Sword Coast, as of late.”

“Ah, yes, the formidable Blade of Frontiers,” you tease but you catch the way Wyll’s chest puffs out proudly at the nickname. “That’s what they’re calling you now, right? I’ve been keeping up with your adventures through Volo’s books.”

Wyll rolls his eyes. “Volo… If I fought half as many battles half as valiantly as he writes, I’d wholly be dead.”

You laugh. Volo was always known for his exaggerations, but you had been so proud when he decided to start following Karlach and Wyll since it kept you up to date on their valiant adventures.

“It’s good storytelling. His books are always best-sellers for a reason,” you say with a shrug. “And besides, I quite like to imagine you and Karlach out there slaying dragons and hunting down devils.”

Wyll laughs, “Yes, devils have become a bit of a speciality of ours.”

“Where’s she at by the way? I haven’t seen her yet this evening.”

“She’s here, but she’s doing her own dancing,” Wyll grins when he speaks of Karlach and you wonder if his smile is a bit too affectionate to be considered friendly. “She doesn’t like all the stuffy rich-people small talk.”

“Gods, and who could blame her?” You groan when you and Wyll hear the couple next to you discussing how they think you and Astarion sourced the shrimp. “They seem to be exceptionally dull this evening.”

The two of you giggle together and Wyll spins you in a delightful twirl.

“So,” he asks when he brings you back from the twirl, “How are the renovations on the Szarr palace going?”

“Ancunin palace,” you correct him.

In the interests of venturing into the political landscape of Baldur’s Gate, you and Astarion had decided to renovate the old Szarr palace to use as a secondary base. It had been sitting vacant in the years since Astarion had left and a couple bands of rogues and thieves managed to find their way inside, tearing the place apart.

A part of you was almost glad when you and Astarion had discovered the disrepair- it felt like poetic symbolism of how his life as a spawn was dead and behind him and that now, he could build something beautiful in its place.

You and Astarion had spent a long time hiring new staff to work at the palace and even longer working on plans for the renovations. Astarion leaned toward opulence and grandeur in all areas of life, so his ideas were rather… ambitious. It had taken a while to find guild artisans who met his high standards of craftsmanship (and that’s not even mentioning the headache of how few people specialize in gold metalwork, which Astarion would still complain about at length when the mood struck him).

But aside from your husband’s expensive tastes, the whole process had been mostly fun. The two of you had spent many afternoons laying out in the gardens, swapping fantasies of how you pictured each room in the palace looking. It felt like the two of you were building a home together.

A very expensive, very gold home, but a home, nonetheless.

Your visits to the palace were still infrequent, however. Astarion still had nightmares and episodes that always seemed to get worse after a visit. You hated to see him in pain and you knew he was frustrated at the fact that he couldn’t simply will himself out of those moments.

You both knew it would still take time. Luckily, time was the one thing the two of you had in abundance.

“It’s been slow progress,” you answer Wyll. “There’s lots of memories there, so I think it will take us a while. Though, we are planning another trip to the city soon. How’s your father doing?”

“He’s well,” Wyll smiles and you know he is grateful you asked. Both he and his father adored talking about one another. It was wonderful to see a family with that much love, even as the two of them attempted to navigate past their previous differences.

Astarion had told you about Wyll’s complicated relationship with his father soon after you had met him. Since you and Astarion were beginning to make a name for yourselves in Baldur’s Gate and Wyll’s father was the Duke of the city, it only made sense to introduce yourselves. It didn’t hurt that Duke Ravengard was surprisingly refreshing company in a city full of pompous nobles.

“He’s sorry he couldn’t make it tonight but he wanted me to extend an invitation for you and Astarion to dine with him again next time you visit Baldur’s Gate,” Wyll says. “Father said that he’d be sure to buy more wine this time so Astarion doesn’t bleed him dry again.”

“I do apologize, bleeding people dry is a particularly nasty habit of mine,” Astarion interrupts.

You know your face lights up when you see him, even if you have only been parted for a few short dances.

“If you’ll excuse me, Wyll.” Astarion’s hand rests on your lower back and you lean into his side instinctually. “I think I’d like another dance with my wife.”

“Of course,” Wyll smiles at the two of you. “And congratulations on your anniversary.” He leans in to whisper conspiratorially to you, but loud enough that Astarion can overhear. “Somehow, you’ve made Astarion considerably less insufferable to be around. We all owe you our thanks for that.”

“I’m not insufferable,” Astarion pouts, pulling your body against his far tighter than most of the other married couples dancing together.

“No, darling,” you reassure him. “Not unless your feet are cold.”

He was a particular sort of monster when he was cold. It was lucky that you knew a few good ways to warm him back up.

“Little minx.” He pinches your hip affectionately. “You’re far too much trouble. I’m not sure why I bother to keep you around.”

“Cause you love me.” You move your hand up from his shoulder to cradle the back of his head, stroking your thumb along the sharp line of his jaw.

Astarion’s eyes soften. “I do, don’t I?”

He looks so handsome, you think to yourself. The red in his waistcoat really does bring out the shade of his eyes and when he’s staring at you like this, his heart nearly bleeds out of them. You let your hand drop from Astarion’s face when it is time for Astarion to twirl you in the dance. He pulls you back into him, your back against his chest.

“Got the vote by the way,” his voice is a whisper in your ear.

He means to disguise his true intentions of political scheming as a loving husband whispering words of affection in his wife’s ear. And he really did whisper in your ear often enough that his actions hardly turned any eyes.

“Turns out Idril really doesn’t want his wife to find out about the bastards he’s left around the Lower City. Thanks for that bit of gossip by the way.” Astarion twirls you out again and you miss the cool line of his body pressed against your back.

You give him one of your ‘I told you so’ smiles. “I knew that damned sewing circle would feed me something good eventually. It’s all about playing the long game for you and I.”

“Be honest, darling,” Astarion smirks, “you really just like taking credit for my embroidery, don’t you?”

He’s only partially right. You mostly like showing off his work because you’re proud to have such a talented husband. It’s a very small part of you that does enjoy passing it off as your own since your own attempts at needlework were typically abysmal.

You laugh. “Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t listening through the walls as they praise your work.”

“Do you really think so little of me as to believe I need the approval of a group of old married hags?” Astarion gasps in faux offense. You giggle and he drops the act to laugh along with you. “Did you enjoy your dance with Wyll?”

“I did. Wyll’s an excellent dancer,” you answer. And then, because you can’t resist teasing Astarion, you add, “Some might say he’s better than you.”

“Oh, really?” Astarion raises his eyebrows.

“Some might. But not me.”

Astarion looks so pleased with himself, like he could exist off your praise alone.

“It’s all about the right partner,” he says, repeating one of your favorite phrases back to you.

“And I’m lucky that I found mine.”

The smile he gives you is radiant.

Over his shoulder, you catch sight of Gale, trying to get Astarion’s attention. “Looks like Gale is here with your little snack.”

You give both Gale and the woman standing next to him a friendly wave. Now that you are a more experienced vampire, you have better control over your bloodlust and so, about a year ago you had started feeding from the townspeople that you and Astarion payed. It has allowed you to develop tenuous friendships with a few of them.

But tonight, the two of you had a plan. This snack was for Astarion alone.

Astarion kisses you in a way that is far too scandalous for public eyes. Over the years, that kind of behavior has come to be expected from the two of you, so people simply avert their gazes. And anyone that is staring at you in shock, you simply ignore, choosing instead to enjoy the way Astarion’s fingers curl underneath your chin to tilt your face up to his and the way his lips slide sweetly against yours.

“See you in a few minutes,” he murmurs before he’s walking over to Gale.

You mingle a while longer before you leisurely make your way out to the gardens, following Astarion. The warm summer night doesn’t feel quite as hot against your skin as it did when you were human. It’s easy to find Astarion now. You know the path in the garden and, more than that, you can smell him. You can practically taste the sharp metallic sting in the air from the woman he’s drinking.

But it’s not your job to find him easily tonight so you wander, slipping your gloves down your arms and discarding them on a bench to be picked up later as you let your hands brush along the delicate rose petals. You need to make Astarion a new bouquet soon, you think absentmindedly, the one currently in his study was starting to droop.

Eventually, you round the corner to the spot where you know Astarion will be.

He has the woman in his arms, his mouth on her throat. You think back to that first night you saw him, when your heart had shuddered with fear and dread and beneath that, some carnal desire that you couldn’t yet name. You make sure to step loudly so Astarion will hear you but deep down, you know he is just as aware of you as you are of him, even if he is a bit distracted by feeding right now.

His eyes tear up to look at you, all crimson red and blood dripping down his chin. The shiver that runs down your spine is caused by elation rather than terror, like all those years ago. Looking at him, you cannot help but be filled with love and warmth.

Astarion practically drops the other woman to the ground as he moves to chase after you.

You laugh, a twinkling, sparkly thing that belongs like a star in the night sky, and you have to stop yourself from practically skipping with delight back up to the manor. You remind yourself that you’re supposed to be acting scared as you sneak a peek at Astarion over your shoulder.

He catches your wrist in his grasp just when you’re about to slip inside and he drags you to that familiar closet. It’s cozy and it’s dark and there’s not much room inside unless Astarion’s body is pressed tightly against your own. His arm presses deliciously against your throat to pin you in place.

His eyes are ravenous as they flit across your face. “Tell me, sweet flower, what’s an innocent thing like you doing out in the gardens all by herself at this time of night?”

“My husband left me all alone,” you say demurely, looking up at Astarion from underneath your lashes.

“He must be a stupid man, indeed, if he ever dared to leave a treasure as precious as you unaccompanied.”

“Yes, he’s very stupid,” you say, poking at his ribs. It’s just so hard to resist teasing him when he presents you with so many wonderful opportunities.

Astarion rolls his eyes, moving his arm from your neck to rest his hand on the wall, next to your head. “Well, that’s not fun, pet. That’s just being mean.”

“I’m playing along! Like you told me. It just gets too self-referential and confusing if I think about it for too long, star. Somehow you’re both my husband and the seductive vampire that lures me into dark corners.” You whine, your hand moving to squeeze his ass and pull him closer to you. “Just tell me pretty things and fuck me, please.”

Astarion’s hand cups your cheek. “I do that all the time, my love. I was trying to make tonight memorable.”

“Every day with you is memorable in its own way, even without the role playing,” you promise him. You nuzzle into Astarion’s hand and his thumb strokes softly along your cheekbone.

“You’re sweet,” Astarion says and his face melts into a soft smile.

“I think I just need more rules about what I’m supposed to say. I’m not you- I can’t just whip up seductive lines full of dirty innuendos at the drop of a hat.”

Astarion laughs. “I am rather gifted at that, aren’t I? We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to. I can take you upstairs and make love to you like I normally do if you’d prefer.”

It’s a tempting offer. Astarion making love to you was likely one of your favorite activities. You liked it almost as much as when Astarion went on a bit of a power trip and whispered lovely, depraved things to you while he fucked you like you were his entire reason for existing, which was exactly what he was offering you tonight.

Besides, when Astarion had brought up this idea, he had been so excited to try it out, so excited to recreate the night you first met in a space where the two of you could act on all the perverse desires you had been holding back.

And you truly loved seeing Astarion enjoying and having fun with intimacy, watching his comfort zone expand with time and listening to the new desires he whispered that he wanted to try.

Sometimes, he didn’t end up liking the outcome nearly as much as the idea. There had been that… unfortunate time where Astarion’s hands had only been bound to the bedposts for a few minutes before he was already pulling himself free from the loose restraints, pleading with you that he was sorry. You had simply wrapped your arms around him and held him against your chest, reminding him that he never needed to apologize for setting boundaries.

No, from then on, restraints were saved solely for you.

“No, let me try again.” You drop your hand from his ass and smile sweetly up at him. “Can we go back to the beginning, please?”

Astarion presses a quick peck on your lips. “Just follow my lead. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He takes a moment to compose himself before he’s pressing his arm against your throat again, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes. It sends an immediate spark of arousal straight to your cunt.

“Tell me, sweet flower, what’s an innocent thing like you doing out in the gardens all by herself at this time of night?”

You look at him with your best impression of wide, scared eyes, like you are a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf. You speak, voice barely a whisper, “Chasing after monsters, it seems.”

“A monster?” Astarion laughs, all dark and condescending. “Is that what you think you saw?”

He presses his leg between yours, pinning you to the wall with the full weight of his body and your cunt is aching and it would be easy, so, so easy, to just grind yourself down against his thigh.

“I don’t know what I saw,” you say and your voice comes out surprisingly breathy and naive. You tilt your head up a bit to look at Astarion, exposing more of your neck and your hand clings desperately to the hem of his coat, pulling him tighter against you. “All I know is that you’re simply too beautiful to be human.”

And in another life, perhaps these are the exact words that you would have said to Astarion in that closet when you first met. Perhaps if you had put up less of a fight or been brave enough to say what you were truly thinking, you would have confessed how you thought he was a beam of moonlight come to life, how you thought that there was no way that the perfect man in front of you could exist because he had to be the embodiment of all your childhood fantasies.

“And yet, I was not the most beautiful person in that garden tonight.” His voice is smooth and silky and feels like a caress on your skin.

His arm flexes where it sits across your neck and his fingers brush along your collarbone, just the hint of a touch. You roll your hips down upon Astarion’s leg and apparently he’s feeling benevolent tonight because he pushes his thigh into you a little bit harder and it provides just the amount of friction you need.

“Yes, the woman you were with was very pretty.”

It’s a bit too boring if you just feed Astarion compliments. He deserves to do some work here, too.

“Don’t go chasing after compliments. It’s unbecoming of you.” Astarion’s arm presses harder into your throat and he narrows his eyes at you. You don’t even need to breathe but the slight impact on your airflow has you feeling dizzy. Or maybe that’s just Astarion’s scent, all bergamot and rosemary and the hint of blood on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur and you both know that you don’t mean it because your hips don’t even stutter where they grind against Astarion’s leg.

“You already know that I meant you,” he continues, ignoring your insincere apology. “All those roses, all those flowers, and they looked pale and lifeless compared to you.”

His voice is low and hungry in your ear. He licks along the shell of it before he whispers, “Don’t all the great poets compare cunts to flowers? I fear they’d run out of words if they ever saw yours. I’d have to kill them all, obviously, but at least they would gaze upon perfection before they died.”

Yeah, that line was a little too ‘your husband’ Astarion and less ‘vampire cornering you in a dark room’ Astarion. It sends a victorious trill singing in your veins because you know he’s fighting just as hard as you to keep himself composed.

Astarion takes a shuddering breath and corrects himself. “It’s truly a shame that I’m going to have to kill you.”

“No, please. Perhaps I can find some way to convince you that I’m worth keeping alive.”

You really play it up, too- pouting your lips, looking up at him from underneath your eyelashes, tilting your chin up to expose your neck just so. Astarion loved to spoil you normally, but he was always so especially susceptible to your begging.

Astarion releases his arm from where it had been pressed against your neck, tracing one of his fingers down his favorite artery. You can feel Astarion’s cock where it presses into your stomach, hard and heavy.

And although his body betrays his desires, Astarion manages to keep his voice flat and unimpressed when he speaks, like this negotiation is beneath him. “I already have more than enough blood, my sweet treat. I’m afraid you’ll have to be more creative about what you can offer me.”

“I’ve been told that I have a very talented mouth. Let me show you. Maybe that will change your mind.”

And thank the gods Astarion released his arm from your neck because now you have more freedom to move. He moans when you catch one of his earlobes between your teeth and his hand comes back up, wrapping gently around your throat and pushing you away from him.

Gods, you can only imagine how wonderful his hand looks wrapped around your throat, accentuated by the lovely ruby necklace he had given you. Maybe you would have to ask him to do it again later in front of a mirror, so you could actually see it.

“Hm, you’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Astarion asks. He shifts his hand so his thumb presses heavily against your bottom lip. His eyes feel like they’re burning into you. “Go on, then, show me.”

You part your lips, letting his thumb slide into your mouth. You suck on it greedily, letting your tongue swirl around it teasingly in that same way you know he always likes around the head of his cock in a silent promise of what is to come. You can feel Astarion’s hips grinding subtly against you as he watches your lewd display and it makes your cunt move so wonderfully against his leg.

“Very well, pet, you’ve proven your point.” His breathing is ragged as he slips his thumb out of your mouth. He leaves a wet trail as he slides it along your chin, all the way down your throat. “Now it’s time for you to really convince me.”

Astarion’s hands fall down to your hips and he pulls you with him, moving until his back is against the wall and your body is leaning into him. His mouth grazes yours as he purrs, “Your lips are going to look so pretty wrapped around my cock.”

He continues to trail teasing almost-kisses along the length of your neck before he bites down. You gasp at the shock of cold, but his mouth retracts from your skin almost immediately. You whine in protest- the bite was too quick, you didn’t even get to really enjoy it.

“On your knees, darling,” he commands, voice all deep and heavy with desire.

You obediently sink down to your knees in front of Astarion and look up at him as one of your hands reaches out to run along the outline of his hard cock straining against his trousers. Your touches are light and fleeting and his hips jolt involuntarily as he tries to press himself harder into your hand.

You’re the one on your knees for him and yet you are the one who will control his pleasure. What a lovely dynamic.

“Promise you won’t kill me?” you ask, acting timid as you fiddle with the fastenings on his pants.

“I don’t know,” Astarion’s eyes glint dangerously in the darkness. “Perhaps a little death is in order tonight.”

It’s a cheesy double entendre but he sells it with the way he’s looking down on you like he can’t wait to devour you. You feel electric, like all your veins in your body are sending molten fire straight to your cunt.

You make quick work of the fastenings on Astarion’s pants and he helps you push them down enough to free his cock. He hisses when your hand wraps around his length.

It’s up to you now, whether you want this to be quick and messy or whether you want to drag this out so long that Astarion is crying and begging to come. Or maybe a mix of both? You’ll see where the mood takes you, you decide, as you lean forward to kiss the base of Astarion’s cock.

You trace a line of teasing kisses along the whole length and when you reach the head of his cock, you let your tongue slip out to run along the slit. Astarion groans, his fingers threading into your hair as a silent request to finally take him in your mouth. You ignore him, content to trace another line of kisses back down his cock.

“Right now, I’m leaning toward killing you,” Astarion says and you can’t help but laugh. You apologize by licking a stripe along the underside of his cock before sucking the tip into the soft, wet heat of mouth.

“Gods, your mouth,” Astarion groans.

You hum in response and Astarion’s hips give a little buck. You take the cue and begin bobbing your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip a few times in between each drag of your mouth up and down his cock. You’re trying to take your time, you want Astarion to enjoy this as long as possible, want to make this moment good and special for him.

You take more and more of his cock into your mouth as you move, hollowing your cheeks and bringing your hand up to assist where you’re unable to fit him in your mouth. Quickly, too quickly for what you have planned tonight, you’re able to get a good rhythm going and Astarion’s cock pulses in your mouth in response as he lets out a long string of curses.

Because you are a bit selfish and you don’t want this to end just yet, you pull your mouth off Astarion with a gentle pop. You keep pumping your hand up and down at a slow pace- enough to feel good, but not enough for him to come. Not yet.

With Astarion’s fingers still loosely threaded in your hair, you sneak a peek up at him. He’s breathtakingly gorgeous, of course. His head tilts back against the wall, eyes closed in rapture, and his beautiful pink lips are slightly parted as soft gasps and breaths escape his mouth.

Gods, you want nothing more than to bite him, to taste his little snack from earlier for yourself.

You grab his wrist with your other hand, bringing it toward your mouth. Pushing up his sleeve, you run your nose along the veins in his wrist.

“Let me taste you,” you plead. And then because you know Astarion is weak for you, especially when you’re on your knees for him, you add a breathy, “please.”

He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes and his voice is so deliciously condescending when he says, “Only since you asked so nicely. Drink up, pet.”

With his permission given, you sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his wrist. It tastes divine. You let your tongue lick away the blood until his wounds have closed and then you set back to work on his cock with a renewed vigor.

When you take him back in your mouth, you lift your hand up to pat on Astarion’s thigh three times, the signal between the two of you that it was okay for him to start moving however he wanted.

His fingers curl in your hair a bit more insistently as he starts guiding your motions and you relax your jaw, letting him fuck into your mouth as he chases after his orgasm. You wish you could get to your cunt more easily around the skirts of this heavy ball gown because you’re practically aching with need.

“That’s- fuck, so good, my love,” Astarion pants out.

His hips quicken and you know he’s close so you move one of your hands to cup his balls and you feel them tightening beneath your fingers.

“Fuck, I’m going to-” Astarion gasps. “That okay?”

And it would make you smile, if your mouth wasn’t currently otherwise occupied. It was sweet, how even in the heat of the moment, Astarion still found the time to check in with you. Even now, after years of assuring him that was unnecessary.

You pat on his leg thigh again, another okay, and it only takes a few more thrusts before his cock is twitching and he’s coming in your mouth.

When you finish swallowing, Astarion is guiding you to stand again, pressing his mouth to yours in a messy kiss. Gods, are you ever grateful that Astarion is not shy. It certainly helped you over the initial awkwardness you felt at moments like this very quickly.

Astarion groans into your mouth as he tastes himself. The metallic tang of the woman’s blood still remains faintly on his own lips. You find yourself fighting against Astarion as you both try desperately to chase after the taste in the other’s mouth.

Between your messy kisses, Astarion ungracefully works to bunch the gorgeous fabric of your dress up to your hips, shifting again to push you against the wall.

“Hold,” Astarion instructs you, passing your bunched up skirts off to you. You collect them in your arms and hold them up around your waist. His lips slide slowly and deliciously against yours before he murmurs, “I can smell you. I can practically taste in the air how wet you are. And we don’t want you making a mess out of your pretty dress, now do we? I imagine someone worked very hard on that.”

Astarion’s leg presses against you and for a moment, you wonder if that was his hidden plan for the night all along- if he was going to make you rut against his leg in the dark closet, guiding you to ecstasy with just the sound of his voice. You start rolling your hips again and the relief you feel at finally giving your cunt some attention nearly makes you sob.

“Now, now, pet,” Astarion tuts. “I know your cunt is just aching for me, but now is the time for patience. If you can wait just a little longer, I promise to reward you handsomely.”

And oh, how you adored being rewarded by Astarion. It usually involved at least a few orgasms that left your legs shaking and your mind spinning. Astarion accentuates his words by kicking your legs a bit wider apart with one of his own feet. His hand moves down between your body, fingers brushing against your cunt.

“Just like I expected, you’re practically dripping. You like sucking my cock that much, don’t you?”

Your eyes fall closed as you let yourself drown in the soft strokes of Astarion’s fingers along your folds. It feels like you might very well burn alive.

Astarion’s other hand gently weaves through your hair. You’re sure the rubies that Shadowheart spent hours weaving into your hair have long since been scattered across the floor. You can’t bring yourself to even begin to care.

“Answer me when I speak to you, pet,” he commands in that wonderful low voice.

It’s accompanied by a sharp tug on the roots of your hair that have you offering up your neck to Astarion. His mouth dips down to suck at your throat and you mewl in delight when he finds a particularly sensitive spot.

“You know I love your cock,” you tell him.

You’d add how much you love the rest of him, too, but that doesn’t seem to fit the mood right now. No, you’d save that for later tonight while you rode him, forbidding his hands from roaming your body. With his hands tightly gripping the sheets, you would shower him in praise and be those lovely, pathetic whimpers he made as he fought to keep his hands off you.

Astarion hums, tilting your chin up to press another deep, slow kiss to your lips. “And you know I adore your mouth.”

His hand keeps moving in maddening, feather-light patterns along your cunt, occasionally moving up to brush against your clit before his fingers are darting away again. It seems Astarion has not finished having his fun with you tonight.

He speaks against your lips, “You look so pretty on your knees for me. I’d keep you there forever, pet, but I think I’d grow tired of not being able to properly kiss you.”

And if anyone else said that line, you’d be rolling your eyes and grimacing about how corny it was. But this is Astarion and he commits and says it in the low, hungry voice that has your toes curling and heat pooling in your cunt.

His mouth is hovering just centimeters away from yours. You can feel each panting breath on your lips. You move forward to kiss him, but Astarion tugs on your hair again, keeping you just a hair's breadth away from what you want.

Trying to outsmart Astarion, you use your free arm that is not holding your skirts to pull him down by his cravat and seal his lips against yours. He actually seems rather glad that you managed to work around his grip in your hair as he hums happily into the kiss.

And either Astarion is extra observant tonight or you’re just being extra obvious about the way you chase after the taste of blood in his mouth.

“She tasted divine,” Astarion says, his thumb making a slow circle around your clit before it’s gone again. “But I doubt you want to hear about that, do you, pet? No, I think you’d much rather hear about how she paled in comparison to you.”

He dips just the tip of one of his fingers inside you before pulling it out again almost immediately.

“She was nothing. They’re all nothing,” Astarion hisses. Gods, how did that even manage to sound attractive coming from him? “No one else has ever made me feel as good as you.”

For a moment, his pure, unadulterated love breaks through on his face and your chest burns with love- you know how devoted he is to you, you know how much he adores you.

For a moment, it is just the two of you in a little bubble of love. And then Astarion finally, mercifully pushes a finger into you, working it in and out so agonizingly slow. You whimper and Astarion smiles wickedly down at you.

“They all bow to us, you know?” Astarion asks, knowing you are in no state to answer. “They bow to me. To you.”

You pull his lips down to yours again and slip your tongue in his mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing- he knows this line of speaking always works you into a state of frenzy. And you know that arrogant side of him enjoys the sound of his voice just as much as you do.

It had been so easy, too, to work the nobles onto your side, to start poisoning their minds with your and Astarion’s ideas. A few carefully placed smiles, a few favors promised and repaid, a few veiled threats. The two of you worked together so easily- Astarion charmed and you schemed.

Astarion chuckles, slipping another finger into you and curling them in a way that makes you unsteady on your feet. He seems perfectly content to keep his other hand threaded in your hair, delivering your mouth to his whenever he wants a kiss.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you, pet? You like thinking about them on their knees for you, just like you were for me a few moments ago.” The heel of his palm brushes against your clit. “Do you want to hear more? Do you want to hear about how even the sun herself bows her head in deference to your light and beauty? About how even I bow down to you, surrendering myself to you in worship?”

“Show me, then,” you pant out, pulling on the back of his neck to press his forehead against yours. “Show me how you intend to worship me.”

That has Astarion cursing under his breath and reaching down to give his cock a few pumps before he’s pushing into you, already hard again.

The fullness and the stretch of him finally inside you soothes the ache that had been plaguing you all night. And when he moves, you can’t help the barrage of moans and gasps that fall from your lips.

“Quiet, little flower. We don’t want everyone to hear, do we?” Astarion asks, bringing his fingers up to your mouth. They’re still wet with your arousal and you follow his silent cue, sucking them into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he purrs and it sends a spark straight to your cunt. You feel yourself tighten around his cock and Astarion groans in response, his hips thrusting into you with even more desperation.

The thought of who’s the one being loud now? passes through your mind as Astarion groans and tells you how good you feel. And then, because deep down, you’re a little bit vindictive, you let one of your fangs scratch along the skin of Astarion’s fingers in your mouth. You greedily lick up the blood, enjoying the way it mixes with the taste of your wetness on your tongue.

What was it that Astarion always called the combination of your blood and your cunt? The nectar of the gods? He might be onto something there.

Astarion’s eyes lock in on you with a single-minded focus before he’s wrenching his fingers from your mouth, capturing your lips with his own. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and bites down, lapping up the blood until your wound closes.

“I love you,” you whisper when he pulls away.

His cock pulses inside you and his hips stutter a bit before he can recover his rhythm. You would never get tired of that- of reminding Astarion of how deeply you loved him and watching how he never failed to viscerally react to those words.

“Love you, too,” Astarion says, pressing a peck to your cheek. You can feel him smiling against your skin. It’s a total contradiction to the obscene way his cock drives into you.

You grab Astarion’s hand from where it had been gently cupping your face and drag it down between your bodies.

“Need your hands.”

“I know just what you need,” he assures as his magical fingers begin circling your clit.

There’s that lovely heat building low in your stomach, rising into a great inferno that surrounds you. And with Astarion’s whispered promises of how he loves you, how good you feel, how you shine brighter than the sun, you come.

Astarion fucks you through your orgasm before his fingers fall away from your sensitive clit and his hips continue to drive into you as he chases after his own high.

“Come for me,” you tell him, half a command and half a begged request. “Want to feel you inside me.”

Astarion’s forehead rests against yours as he comes.

He keeps you pressed to the wall with the full weight of his body for a few moments longer as the two of you fight to steady your breathing.

Frankly, it’s a miracle that you managed to hold up your dress the whole time. You had been so worried about damaging the lovely needlework that Astarion had spent so long embroidering that you had kept the fabric clenched to your stomach in an iron-vice the whole time.

Astarion ensures you are steady on your feet before he shuffles around the closet in search of a rag to wipe between your legs. He finds one and helps you to clean up before throwing it in a bucket with the other dirty rags. You finally release your skirts and flex the muscles in your aching arm as you lean back against the wall, grabbing Astarion’s wrist to pull him back toward you.

“I love you.”

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms tightly around you as he pulls you into a hug. “I love you, too, now and forever.”

“‘Til death do us part,” you tease, because the idea of death to a vampire seems nothing more than a joke.

Astarion laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And even after then.”

----------------------

Notes:

Me? Ending a fic on the title? It's almost like I planned that from the beginning... This chapter could alternatively be called 'I let Astarion have a delusions of grandeur as a treat for working on himself.' He's still the Astarion we know and love and of course he's still a little bit evil, but now he's got a wife to help him channel all that energy in healthier ways!

Wow, I can't believe this story is over and this is my final note. I'm getting a bit teary eyed as I write this. Know that I will never be able to fully express my appreciation to everyone who has read/liked/commented on this story. This whole experience has been so much more fun that I ever could have imagined and I have all of you to thank for that!!!

As always, hugest thank you to my beta-writer (and real life friend) AliensNSuch on ao3. She has put up with my insane text rants about obscure details and she has logged many, many hours editing this thing and hyping me up over the parts I hate. I owe her a lifetime of boba for her service!

I've also got some plans for a new fic that I'm gonna start. I'll have a follow up post on my blog talking about my plans if anyone is interested in that. I'm not quite done with Astarion yet!

Thanks again. I love you all!

Taglist: @ayselluna@idkbrodontaskme@maruichio@fanfic-share@the-littlest-bruja@asterordinary@divineknightmare@fandomarchiveilyd

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 fanfiction #x reader #til death do us part

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the-main-idiot · 2 months

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my chnt swap AU will now be called

camp this and that

idea originally provided by @fall3nash2339

all info about characters+ art links under cut😋😋!!

(NEWWER DESIGNS WILL COME SOON, ALL OF THESE ARE FROM A SLIGHTLY OUTDATED STYLE)

all the characters have the same physical appearance (except for sydney), personalities and roles are changed

the nurses~

head nurse: Elijah Volkov, he makes all the announcements, and is mentally decaying. Boy oh boy, is he quite the man. Silly little bpd man, collected mental illness like Pokémon. But he's caring, and will do just about anything in his power to help the campers out when needed. He has a knack for elephants, likes sharing fun facts, not only about elephants but anything and everything. No filter😋 if he's thinking it, he'll say it, obviously nothing bad will come of that. Trust issues, yummy.

assistant nurse: Adam Uptin, always carrying snacks with him, he can get you to share how your parents wronged you then shove a bag of skittles in your hand and walk away. Adam isn't a fan of leaving the nurses cabin, let alone his side office, something about being a vampire and ""ahhhh the suns"",,etc etc. Although, you can lore him outside with some sunscreen, an umbrella, and an apple.

camp counselors (all camps stay the same)

Cabin Dung Beetle: Juniper Sloan. long neck, dirty blonde. British man, he's scared of the water (blah blah blah "i'm experiencing the past, present, and future all at once and i can't breathe." yadda yadda yadda) besides the meltdowns and break downs, he's pretty silly

Cabin Grasshopper : Marisol Yuchengco, 👁️dresses in gothic attire, but she's one of the most understating counselors you'll ever meet. Salem de La Marnierre, 👁️scene kid vibes, lowkey really chill though. The two are dating<3 (basically just the same as chnt, just,,, ya'know,, swapped.)

Cabin Magpie Moth: Rowan Chow, the goofiest mother fucker in the entire camp. He can actually produce sound effects, he doesnt choose them or when they happen, that's up to the universe, they just come from his general area. This man runs off of actual cartoon logic, dont question it.<3

Cabin Silkworm: Yvonne Marley, femcel. That is truly all i have to say about her. She pull's misinformation straight from the internet and spreads it like mold on moist bread. Joshua MacHeath, tictok eboy, he can make a killer flower necklace though. Joshua will sit with the kids who can't/won't participate in certain camp activities and teach them how to make bracelets out of, well, anything and everything!

Cabin Tarantula Hawk: Lucille Bertuccelli,👁️ she's an older counselor, a sweetheart though. Not only does she keep cabin tarantula hawk up am running, but she also is in charge of the arts and crafts cabin! Gracie Liu (👁️lowkey, i forgot gracie liu existed, so all of her color are just inverted. no matter how you picture her in ur brain, just invert the colors)

Cabin Ladybug : Soren Baltimore, 👁️a bit of a quiet lad, it wears a cape given to it by fennel. soren wears pants that are cover completely in pockets, those pockets are practically infinite, anything you can imagine, soren has it in its pockets. Fennel Marlborough, 👁️our favorite camp taxidermist (don't tell anyone) they have the art of life preservation down to a tea, now if they can only get em to start moving again. soren and fennel are tightly nit, they made up two languages, one between only them and the other for the entire cabin.

Cabin Widow-spider: Matthew Napoleon, 👁️he is the void, don't be scared of him just based on looks though. Matthew will teach you about things you thought you knew (you didn't). Because matthew cant actually talk, due to all that void, he communicates in a fun mixture of sign language, charades, and various static esc noises. Matthew is also involved, if not running, most water based activities (and sometimes juno+mila helps out around the cabin)

the cafeteria: Mila Alcorn 👁️and Juno Matsouka, 👁️i say "and" instead of giving the two separate descriptions because they are inseparable, trust me, i've tried. these two fish folk work together in the kitchen to provide food for all the campers at camp this and that. Practically gourmet chefs, these two are quite creative. Even though there's two of them, you'll never have to worry about chaos in the kitchen, mila and juno always compromise with each other, causing for some never before tasted flavors

special doodads

head of camp: Warren Earthman,👁️ he's a, stern, tired, grumpy, old man. also the walls in are covered with different brands and types of chainsaws. beside the threatening aspects of him, he also openly picks favorites and doesn't listen to anything that doesn't openly concern him or the government.

the rot: Sydney October Sargent, a weird rotting man who lives in the woods surrounding the camp. Don't get to close to him without a gas mask, please, the spores that emanate off of him are damn near hallucinogenic. Besides the skin falling off his bones, the various species of bugs living within him, and all the mushrooms/fungus living from his decomposing self, he's almost harmless. I mean, he's in shambles, a corpse who just won't let go, just try not to breathe near him.

Martime: Jedidiah A.M. Martime, a man who keep appearing in my dreams, I don't have dreams often, why is here, in color no less. this annoying, clock obsessed, not even real, man keeps trying to tell me that he's "here for you," and "it's ok, you can take a brake, you have enough time." what that man needs to do is pipe down and accept the fact he doesn't even exist in the physical plane.

#camp here and there #chnt #camp here and there swap au #chnt swap au #ch&t swap au #camp this and that #my doodles ::]#(only putting this tag because this is a project i'm very passionate about)#pinned post #YYIIPPPEEEEEEE

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sparrowrye · 4 months

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Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 8

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous Part

Part 8: ignited flame

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

Weeks went by and winter came.

Husker had noticed my abrupt silence and depressing mood. He tried to make me talk about the fight with Alastor but I didn't want to talk about anything at all.

My meetings with Rosie were just as depressing. They yielded less and less, though she claims it's helping me use more and more of my magic. I noticed the things that took a lot of effort before now took minimal effort. Such as my appearance.

I sat outside on the porch in the rocking chair. I wrapped myself in a heavy blanket and hid my Demon side away. I could see my breath come in clouds. The field was covered in a beautiful, clean white sheet. The trees were bare but the inches of snow on their branches made them look like a winter wonderland.

Husker joined me on the porch. He didn't bring a blanket but I guessed he was using magic to keep himself warm. In fact, I knew he was because I could see a faint glow of red around him. I noticed this glow whenever he used magic.

"It looks nice," he broke the silence.

"Very."

"Have you seen snow much?"

"Not until I was free," I answered. I could remember how confused and amazed I was when I saw my first snow. I was running around trying to catch snowflakes in my palms. I loved watching children run around and make snowmen in the thick snow.

"Alastor hates snow with a burning passion." Husker chuckled when I stared at him wide eyed. "Most Demons do since, you know, we come from hell and it's pretty fucking hot down there."

"Makes sense." I nodded. "It doesn't bother me."

"Do you want to know how to stay warm on your own?"

"No thanks," I declined. "I like it this way."

Silence fell between us for a long while. I eventually grew tired of playing the same bad memories in my head over and over again.

"Where is he now?" I asked.

"In his study. Doing another broadcast."

I unwrapped myself from my blanket and sat on the steps. I put my hand in the snow and left my mark in the white powder. I looked over my shoulder at him. "Maybe...you will teach me?"

He sat beside me and told me how. I tried a few times before I got the hang of it. My body's temperature rose and stayed at the right spot. My hand no longer felt cold but I could still feel the snow.

I grabbed a handful of snow and shoved it in his face. He mewled like an angry cat and crawled away from me, fur sticking up all over his back. I laughed and apologized. Instead of accepting it, he jumped on my back and shoved my face into the snow.

I sent wind behind him and rolled him off. I let my Demon side out as I pounced on him. We wrestled in the cold snow for awhile, unbothered by the frigid temperature thanks to our magic.

I shoved him off with my legs, like he had done to me one time, and threw a snowball at him. He hissed and ran at me on all fours. I followed his lead and started running away on all four. It was surprisingly easier and faster.

He chased me around the house several times before he landed hard on my tail. The cat and mouse switched roles as I chased him in circles. Finally I jumped on his back and we rolled to a stop on our backs. Snow had started to fall and it gently melted on our sweat soaked faces.

My cheeks started to hurt from smiling. I looked over at Husker who was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed.

"Thank you," I said. His eyes popped open and he turned his head towards me.

"What for?"

"For being fun." I turned back to the gray sky. I put my hand up to catch one of the flakes. "I never...I never really knew how to have fun." I brought my claws back in so my hand looked like normal. "I always watched other people having fun and laughing. It always looked so easy. But I...I never really knew how to do that."

"It must've been awful in those rings." Husker's ears flatted sideways a bit. "I never...realized that they raised fighters from when they were just children."

"If you did, would you have stopped them?"

He was quiet for a long while. "Now, of course. But...back then? I don't know. I was so desperate for money that I was willing to do anything. Even...making a deal with another Demon."

"Alastor, right?"

A moment of silence. "Yeah." He pulled himself up to a sitting position. "I don't want you to be afraid to confide in me. I want you to feel like you can say anything. Even if all you do is complain about how shitty Alastor is being." I sat up as well, watching his face intently. "I know he said not to talk about leaving with me, but you can. I won't tell him."

"What was the deal, if I may ask," I prompted gently.

He casted a sideways glance at me, then looked down at his claws. He was quiet for awhile and I didn't push. He was probably dying to tell someone about his unfortunate fate.

"I...I used to be an overlord in Hell. I gambled with souls for awhile then started gambling up here. But...I lost a few hands. And a few more after that. Until I was on my last one. I didn't want to lose my power, my magic, so I gambled against him for more souls. And I lost my soul to him over a bad game."

There was a long moment of silence again. I searched my brain for something to say and came up with, "I'll bet he cheated."

It made Husker chuckle and made me sigh with relief. He stood up and examined his snow-soaked pants. He held out a hand and helped me to my feet. "You're probably right." He smiled. I returned it. "Well, let's go inside and get dry."

"Sounds good." As we walked up to the house, I noticed Alastor watching from the second story window.

****

The house had finally been fully renovated and back to its former glory. We had running water, working electricity, and restored floorboards and walls. Keeping it clean, though, was proving to be a problem. Bugs still found their way into the old home and dust was still an ever present threat to my sinuses. It didn't help that we couldn't open the windows to air out the stuffy house without losing all the heat from the fireplaces.

Speaking of which, something loud tumbled down the fireplace and landed firmly on the hot coals. I barely stepped into the room when Alastor appeared from the shadows and lifted the soot-covered creature. A big, singular red eye snapped open and made direct contact with my two. My hair stood up.

Alastor let go of it and the soot disappeared in a puff of black clouds. Standing up was a small child dressed in pink and white. "Darling," he looked at me, "meet Niffty. A devilish little thing, she is."

"Whoooah, what are you?" The little girl sped over and disappeared behind my back. She touched my tail then clambered onto my back to touch my wings and horns. She was like a bug as she jumped all over me.

"Niffty?" Husker came into the room. She immediately jumped off me and started her assault on him.

"Hey kitty kitty~" She poked her head out from under his hat. He lifted his hat and pulled her off. She landed on her face on the floor and I worried she might start crying. Instead, she yelled, "Yay, pain!" She suddenly started crawling around on all floors and appeared on chairs and shelves. "This place is awfully dirty."

I side-eyed Husker who took a sip of his alcohol with a growl. Alastor put a hand on my shoulder, making me jump. My hair on my neck and arms stood up even more. He said, "I noticed your trouble keeping the house clean. You did all the hard work restoring it so I employed our little darling, Niffty here, to help." I stepped to the side so his hand fell from my shoulder and so I could face him.

"How many people exactly do you have under your service?" I questioned.

"Oh I lost count." He scratched at something on his cane.

"Knife knife, I need a knife, these little roaches aren't going nowhere," Niffty mumbled. I looked at Husker again but he just growled and disappeared back into the kitchen for another drink.

"She's harmless, trust me," Alastor said.

"I don't," I mumbled. I went back to the fireplace and fixed up the hot logs. I didn't need a stoker as I used my magic to protect my hand and move the logs back to their original position.

"Say, darling." Alastor moved to stand behind me. I quickly stood up and faced him with crossed arms. "Why don't you join me in the library? There's some information I'd like to share with you that I think you'd find rather useful."

"What kind of information?"

"Why so skeptical, dear? I'm providing you with information. Surely you're curious." He didn't wait for an answer and crossed the threshold between the sitting room and the library. I noted that he had to duck to avoid hitting the doorframe.

I let out a strained sigh and followed him. The fire in this room was contained in a small cage in the fireplace. It left the room much colder than the others. Most of the warmth came from the open windows that allowed the sun to shine through when it came out from behind the winter clouds.

"Please, get comfortable," he said as he perched himself near the fireplace. I leaned against the large desk adjacent to him, careful not to let my wings knock anything over. He cocked his head a little but said nothing about it. "How much do you know of magic?"

"Obviously not as much as I thought." I wanted to be smart but my words kept coming out soft. I couldn't rid my mind of his terrifying form the night I fought him. My mind told me it was a nightmare but my body remembered it as real as it was when it happened. I didn't like standing this close to him.

"Before you came here, how much did you know?" The sun finally shone through the windows, illuminating the usually dark room. He slithered to the window and sat down in the sun, his hands elegantly settling on his knees. His smile was wide.

"Nothing, really. Only how to use it." I dropped my crossed arms to my lap.

"So you know nothing of the types of magic?"

"I know they exist but I don't know what they are."

He raised his palm as if expecting someone to hand him something. Something did when I saw a book being pulled off the shelf by itself. It floated past me and landed in his claws. He opened it with one hand and the pages flipped on their own. "There are several and they all have their own levels in them as well. Take a look."

He casted the book towards me, letting it plop in my hands and making me almost drop it. I looked down at the open page to see a series of circles and words. There were three groups: elementary magic, existence magic, and advanced magic. They all had little circles underneath them with different symbols.

In Elementary, it had all four elements. In existence, there was Holy, Hell, Cosmo, and Chrono magic. Advanced had a number of different ones form electricity to poison. "What's Cosmo and Chrono?" I asked.

"Cosmo is dealing with space, like the space between Heaven, Hell, and here," he answered, "Chrono is time." He casted the book back to the shelf it had come from. "Those with Slight magic are only able to use Elementary. Demons can use any and all of them, though some like to specialize in certain ones."

"What do you specialize in?"

He laughed, standing up and bouncing his cane off my his claws. "All of them dear. I'm a master of all the magic there is."

"Even Holy magic?"

Static caught his throat. "Only angels use Holy magic. I wouldn't bother twiddling with such a useless form of magic." He spun his cane and jutted it into the ground. "I believe you will be able to master of all them, too."

"Why would you want me to?" I dared.

"Mastering them will be up to you. I'm going to teach you how to control them properly. Last thing I need is for the house to fall apart because you don't know how to manage them." It was more of a demeaning comment than anything. "And we'll start now." The curtains jerked closed and the doors to both the kitchen and sitting room were slammed shut. I was abruptly thrown into pitch blackness save for Alastor's red eyes and yellow teeth. "Conjure light."

I backed into a chair and fell over it. I couldn't see anything except him. Then I couldn't. All the lights went out and I was left alone in the darkness. "I--I don't--I don't know how!"

"You lack imagination." I turned over to see his red eyes again. I jumped to my feet and backed into a table of some kind. What did this library look like? What was I running into? Why couldn't I remember? "You're limited by your own self." His eyes disappeared again.

I looked down at my hands, though I couldn't see them, and conjured fire in my palm. Something hard smacked my wrist and I clasped it to my chest, snuffing out the flame. I couldn't move my fingers.

"I said light. Not fire."

"Fire is a type of light," I hissed into the darkness.

"Conjure pure light. You want to see, don't you?"

I rubbed my sore wrist and opened my other hand. I tried to picture my own hand holding a ball of light. Yet nothing came of it. Why wasn't it working? Why did it never work for me on the first try?

"Your own mind is holding you back." His voice passed behind me. He was circling me. I could hear his boots hitting the floor. I put my tail out behind me and moved around the objects in the room until I was in a corner. I tried to conjure another ball of light, still nothing. "It's simple, really." He appeared in front of me holding a small circle of light, smiling at me. Then he disappeared into the darkness again.

"Simple for you. I'm the one with a curse."

Something shoved me from behind and I landed on my knees. I threw my tail and wings out to keep him away. I heard him walking in circles again.

"A curse is a trick of the mind. You're not actually cursed. Your mind thinks you are." The distortion and radio static of his voice was making me sick to my stomach.

"The fu--the he--what does that even mean?"

Something hard hit the tip of tail. I yelped and drew my tail in. The same thing happened to my wings and I curled in on myself.

"It means you're chaining yourself to the ground and still expecting to fly." He grabbed hold of my wrist and lifted it painfully high until I was on my toes. "Now, conjure light." His claws dug into my skin but I couldn't break free of his hold. I saw a faint glow of green that outlined his hand, arm and the rest of him. I was too busy staring at him to notice the faint glow of light from my palm.

He noticed my stare, somehow, and threw my hand over my head, making me fall backwards on my tailbone. His red eyes and sharp teeth ignited again. I scrambled back as they came closer and closer. My back hit the wall and I threw my hand up in between us. I squeezed my eyes shut and pictured light illuminating him.

When I didn't feel him touch me, I slowly opened my eyes. Alastor was standing with his arms and cane behind his back. He was smiling down at me. The light was coming from my hand, not from him. I had done it. I had conjured light.

"See, darling? It has everything to do with your mind." He pulled me up by my hand as the curtains and doors opened. Husker and Niffty were waiting in the kitchen, Husker with a look of worry on his face. "But perhaps you ought to read more," his hand tightened around mine, "to expand your imagination."

#alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open

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super-paper · 10 months

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"Thank you for such wonderful comedy."

I've been wanting to talk about how MHA plays with the concepts of "fiction vs reality, the characters vs the actor, the world vs the stage" for awhile now, bc I believe understanding how MHA utilizes these concepts is pretty crucial to understanding our Big Bad (and Tomura!) (...and Izuku!) (.. etc!) (y-yeah...!!!) (wooo.....!!!!!)

If this post is more incoherent than usual, I apologize-- I'm just really enthusiastic about stories that play with the fact that they're stories and characters who throw themselves into a fictionalized role as a means of coping. I love the way MHA handles these concepts in particular, so I lost all sense of restraint as usual.

Hori: "I'm Like Dropping Hints That Hero/Villain Personas Are Actually Coping Mechanisms Lol"

"As Tomura Shigaraki and Tenko Shimura, I've got just one wish: the total destruction of everything that created that house." "If my origin as Touya and Dabi was such a simple thing, then... No, there are still things I want to say. Arguments I want to have."

I've seen a few ppl saying that it sounds awkward/strange to have the characters repeatedly asserting themselves in the third person, but imo, the emphasis on real names versus hero/villain names during these particular scenes plays into the idea of the villain/hero identities being "alter egos" that might not actually have the same core desires as the """"actors"""" that are behind these personas.

Tomura and Touya invoke both their real and villain names while asserting their respective wishes. Himiko also invokes her villain name, though it's less obvious to english speakers because she uses her real name as her villain name (in the raws, "HIMIKO TOGA" as a villain name is written using katakana-- and this is what she uses when asserting her wish). MHA plays with the idea of "fiction"/"Alter Egos" as a form of escapism and as a coping method, and at this point in time, the Dabi/Tomura/"Himiko" identities are still being utilized as a crutch/mask by these three very hurt individuals.

*loud, terrifying chanting* PEAK FICTION PEAK FICTION PE--

Ochako's fight being like the second most thematically important fight in the whole series still makes me unreasonably giddy btw.

To contrast, Ochako uses her civilian name alone when asserting her wish-- and imo we're meant to read this as Ochako wanting to save Himiko as herself, not as Uravity. Saving Himiko is not something she can accomplish as her alter-ego-- Ochako is able to save Himiko by stepping off the stage and becoming a "real" person, while also acknowledging the person behind "Toga Himiko (villain name)".

Izuku hasn't had his "I'm Izuku Midoriya"/"I'm-saving-you-as-Izuku-not-as-Deku" moment yet-- instead, we see Tomura intentionally making that distinction between the-hero-and-the-true-self by constantly referring to Izuku by his real, full name. And I'm pr sure Izuku is also the only one he does this to-- we see him referring to all the other heroes he encounters by their hero names alone, or by insulting nicknames (l-lol). Correct me if I'm wrong, tho!

(side note: Tomura switching to calling Izuku just "Hero" in the aftermath of Bakugate is actually a big step backwards imo-- it reads as Tomura trying to push Izuku away by shoving them both back in the hero/villain box and doubling down on enforcing their respective "roles." Not that I ever expected mister doomdere to make things easy, but, woof. Good Fuckin' Luck, Izuku ( ´･ω･) )

TL;DR The final arc has mostly been about tearing off the hero/villain masks to reveal who is hiding underneath— MHA's careful use of names and monikers plays heavily into that and its distinction between "alter-ego"/"true self" a lot. Which is... probably one of the many reasons why All For One still doesn't have a given name, as someone who has all but completely lost himself in his character.

Anyway! That brings us to the meat of this post: how does MHA take the concepts of "reality vs fiction" and "the character vs. the actor" and apply it to All For One (...and Tomura) (and Izuku--)?

"Pay No Attention to That Man Behind the Curtain!"

"If you refuse to submit, then I'll just rewrite the story." - it's amazing how all of this coulda been avoided if someone had just introduced AFO to Demon Lord x Reader fanfiction. (/j)

AFO fancies himself as the author of MHA's greatest tragedy (the desecration of Shimura Nana's legacy via the sacrifice of Shimura Tenko), while simultaneously inserting himself into its overarching narrative and treating himself as the leading villain of the story-- it's self-indulgent and intentionally invasive in the way that most self-insert fanfiction tends to be invasive, with him going to extremes to make it seem as though the whole story revolves around him. AFO wants to be both the author and the leading character and the leading antagonist. This greed is typical of him, but it also establishes him as a character who's more caught up in (read: trapped by) his relationship to "fiction" than anyone else. Again, MHA explores the use of fiction and alter-egos as an escape from a painful reality-- so, it's entirely reasonable to assume that this applies to AFO as well.

To me, so much about AFO reads as an escapist fantasy of someone who is utterly terrified of being put in a position where he is truly seen. The idea of being vulnerable, of being naked, of being "human," is intolerable to him. But by not allowing himself to feel and "be a human," he has effectively cut himself off from what he wants most. The character of “Shigaraki Tomura” is as much an escapist fantasy for AFO as it is Tenko-- It's just another (younger, prettier) layer of skin he can hide his true self in.

"so basically you're saying that AFO is a never nude" yes, actually :)

AFO dehumanizes Tomura through his attempts to turn the boy into his personal comic book character, but he also dehumanizes himself by desperately trying to insert himself into that “character." It's only fitting that Tomura’s innate humanity and capacity for feeling ends up rendering AFO himself painfully, painfully human-- and ultimately causes AFO's carefully constructed character to start crumbling.

If All the World’s a Stage, Then Let’s Destroy the Stage

"That stage is gone now. The theater's knocked down. How much longer can we afford to be spectators on the sideline?" "Once upon a time, a man named All Might showed all of us how to be a hero. But somewhere along the way, people forgot about the heart and soul that made the man." -MHA, Chapter 325

Tomura is attempting to destroy the stage, because without the stage there can be no "Shigaraki Tomura" (Or "All Might," or "All For One," or "Endeavor," etc etc etc). Without the stage, there are no more "characters" and no more tragedies. But-- without the stage, there are no more stories period. There are no more tragedies, but there are no more happy endings either. The world never recognizes the actor behind "Shigaraki Tomura" without the stage. The stage is not inherently a bad thing, so long as people can remember that the actors on the stage still exist outside of it.

But Tomura himself cannot imagine what happens after the curtains fall, and all that's left is Shimura Tenko. He is stuck in a role that was written entirely for someone else, but remains convinced that the role was always his and that the role defines him.

Tomura rebels against the story the only way he knows how--against an "author" who *LITERALLY* views him as a spicier self insert, and against a "setting" that treats his death as a happy ending-- but even so, Tomura still can't picture an ending that doesn't end in tragedy. His rebellion is not about him trying to wring a happy ending out of a miserable, mean-spirited book-- it's about burning the whole damn library down so he never feels let down or hurt by a story again.

Basically: Tomura cannot act outside the confines of his "character" in a way that will truly save him. Even as he rebels, he's rebelling in a way that is painfully consistent with the way his "character" is written-- and that's why AFO (the author) still poses such an enormous threat to him. Destruction cannot save him from this story when he was explicitly penned to destroy.

The only way to break this narrative is to act in a way "the author" doesn't expect, and to tap into all the traits that AFO desperately attempted to "write out" of him-- Shimura Tenko is someone who has always rebelled against his writing, his author, and the unfairness of this story with his kindness and his willingness to accept those that no one else will.

AFO cuts off Tenko's own power at the root by reinforcing Tomura's belief that the world will always inherently reject him, without fail, always and forever-- so he should just reject the world, too (and I've talked at length about this before, but this is why a story that ends with Tomura dying or locked away from society is an ending that fails in its goal to save Tomura). The more Shigaraki Tomura rejects everything and the more Shigaraki Tomura is rejected by everything, the more he distances himself from his root and the source of his power-- and the more Shimura Tenko gets lost in this character.

While AFO is terrified of someone seeing behind his mask, Tomura longs for it. Tenko has been there since the beginning and has been begging for someone to finally see and acknowledge him (both in-universe and out of universe).

"I’ll Be There, Changing Fate by Your Side."

AFO: "Blah Blah Blah Do you still believe myths can save you? Foolish creature. Let me be clear: every version of the story ends with you being slaughtered yadda yadda yadda :) :) :)" ENTER, MIDORIYA IZUKU WITH A STEEL CHAIR.

Izuku's role is that of a completely average boy who gets pulled into a narrative ''that wasn't for him"-- he has no heroic lineage, no hidden powers, and no connection to the centuries old conflict that drives the plot. He's just a boy who did the right thing at the right time and was rewarded for it. Izuku is someone who was "never supposed to be a hero" the same way Tenko was "never supposed to be a villain" per the "rules" of their world-- and Izuku, like Tomura, is someone who exists to destroy those rules and the expectations of their narrative, completely changing the ending.

But rather than burning the book and ending the story forever (like Tomura wants to do), Izuku believes that the story and characters can still be salvaged. There's always something worth saving. It doesn't have to be a tragedy, they can still change the ending. They can talk specifics after Tomura's crazy ass puts the lighter down.

Izuku, like Tomura and so many other characters, throws himself into an alter-ego in an attempt to redefine himself and escape from pain ("Nobody's been saved yet. Don't be the worthless old Deku who can't save anyone" 😬). He almost loses himself in the role of "OFA's torch bearer" the way All Might did-- but just as Izuku managed to find Toshinori Yagi and helped in convincing him that his life as Toshinori has meaning, Izuku ends up getting saved by his friends who couldn't care less about OFA's ~protagonist power~ and know that Izuku is just a goofy, awkward, human boy who needs help.

Like.... If we explore quirklessness as like... a narrative stand-in for characters that the story typically views or dismisses as irrelevant extras/npcs, then AFO's barely restrained anger at Izuku and Toshi (and possibly Yoichi if we're being honest) for daring to ''act beyond their roles'' becomes even funnier. AFO can't stand the idea of his power/the protagonist role being passed on to someone who seems so utterly unworthy, unremarkable, and plain. He can't stand the idea of someone without a quirk/"role" standing up to him, the leading character. Dude really is a toxic comic book fan to the core.

afo really said "I didn't like how things were going so I stopped reading and just wrote a better ending to the story :^)" like...... @mhareddit that's u buddy...........................;

Anyway...........!!!!! AFO is someone who cherry picks what he likes about a story while ignoring the actual intent/message of the work (#theabsolutestateofthemhafandom), but he has no intention of breaking down the dichotomy between heroes/villains and instead actively enforces it (.............#theabsolutestateofthemhafan--). He just wants to flip what side wins in the end.

Tomura wants to break the narrative because he sees that as the only way to escape from his pain (but in doing so, he permanently cuts himself off from being a part of a story with a happy ending). He wants to destroy the dichotomy between heroes and villains because heroes and villains "will never understand each other and never stop creating each other" (lol. lmao, even).

Izuku wants to break the narrative because he's realized that there's something more to this story than your standard "Hero versus Villain," "good vs evil" affair and that he cannot explore what lies behind those masks and labels without tearing them down, first.

These three work together well as a narrative set of Fucking Nerds, and AFO works well as both Tomura and Izuku's villain for all of the above reasons (& also bc he's the only one who is actually benefitting from their current society) ((which basically offers him an endless buffet of hurt and angry children he can exploit on a silver platter)).

Anyway! Kick his ass, Izuku.

#shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #all for one #sophie.txt #midoriya izuku #mha spoilers #mha.txt

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thelunarsystemwrites · 2 months

Text

Beauty might be simple.

Dust had seen... a lot, of alternative universes. There were ones where his kind starved, where monsters had wings or fishy tails. He's seen ones where roles seemed to be reversed, or interchanged.

But... out of everything, he never considered one where...

Bunnies?

Dust was staring at a field of flowers, where—If he was guessing somewhat correctly. These... bunnies, were... fighting?

On one side, had these extra round creatures that had similarities to the Stars. While the other ones held closer to the bad Sanses, such as himself...

Man, they sucked at fighting.

The... Ink, one? Was flipped over on his back, his tiny little stubby legs kicked effortlessly. The one that looked like Killer paused mid battle to start cleaning his paws. The Swap one was... either pushing, or nuzzling one that looked like Horror. And, these things were small. The size of kitten at best. Plus... they were so round? Why were they so round?

Either way, Dust scoffed. Apparently these things could talk, too, or atleast one of them—as the goofy Nightmare one was screeching.

"N-No, you fools! Get back into battle!" He yelled, his voice pip squeak. While the Dream one was trying to flip over Ink, failing miserably and flipping over himself. He made tiny distressed yips, before getting distracted by a butterfly, flipping on his feet again and following it while hopping.

Dust sighed, coming closer. He just needed to find wherever the fuck Killer went, his Killer. And they could go home.

The Nightmare one looked at him, and hissed. Instead of tendrils, it just had a lot of floppy ears. "A mortal! Retreat you buffoons!" He demanded, teleporting away before Dust could get a word out.

He groaned. "Killer!" He called out again, hoping he hadn't run off too far.

As he approached, the bunnies all started looking at him. Their little chattering went down, as they began to hop over to him, quite literally bouncing.

"...ugh." Was all he managed out, these things.. they were nuzzling him? Being oddly affectionate.

One, the Killer one, started nibbling on his shoe, causing him to try and kick it away. "Stop that..." He murmured, the bunny just bounced like a ball...

Weird.

Russeling came behind him, and he snapped over with a sharpened bone ready to defend himself—

Boop.

Dust was put face to face with Killer, who held a bunny that looked like... him.

"...You shouldn't sneak up on me." He lowered his weapon, as Killer chuckled a bit.

"Dust! Look, it's you!" He said in a teasing manner, shoving them into his arms.

"H-Hey!" Dust tried to drop it, but his arms tensed for a second...

It was just, so soft... like a marshmallow.

Killer giggled, before gasping, "THERE'S MINE!" He scooped up the bunny that looked like him, squshing it on his face.

"We're not keeping them." Dust declared as he finally set the Dust one down.

"Oh c'mon! Wouldn't be the first time we kidnapped something from an AU!~" Killer was now trying to hold Dust, and Horror bunny as well.

"No." Dust, the actual one, crossed his arms and gave a stern look.

Killer pouted, metaphorically jiggling them in his arms as he opened his jacket to stick them in.

"...Don't." Dust warned, as Killer cheered when he got them into it, zipping it up, their three little faces stuck out in front of his face.

"Yup, doing it."

Dust groaned. "...fine." He stuck his hands hands his pocket, looking away, down towards the star ones. The ink one was still stuck on his back, but fell asleep cuddling up to the Swap and Dream one...

It was almost cute.

He sighed. "Let's just get back... I swear if one of those things poop in the castle..." He muttered as he helped Killer pushed the bunnies to be more hidden.

"Heh, got it!"

And with that, they teleported home.

(Inspired by @ant1quarian!)

#biblically inaccurate bunny #dust sans #killer sans #Biblically inaccurate bunny Dust #BIBs #There's just a lot of bunnies #Bunny #Bunnies #Utmv #Aus #sans aus #undertale aus #fiction writing #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #Fic #ficlet

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onirique-amaranth · 2 years

Note

Ok so we have confirmed bratty sub Dottore.. what type of subs r the other harbingers? 👀

⎮What type of subs are they?⎮

Part.1 : Dottore, Arlecchino & Tartaglia

Dottore

❥ Like I said before, I believe Dottore is a bratty sub. He did not receive love for a very long time, which lead him to whine whenever you don't give him attention.

❥ The first time you showed him attention, he was convinced that you loved him, as he has no understanding of the word 'love' itself. He would do anything if it means that he's able to stay by your side.

❥ He would be jealous easily, never showing it and just stay hidden in his laboratory, or at least that's what everyone thinks. When you're not looking, he would create problems for you until you take care of his 'problem', and most of the time, it ends up with him being bent over his desk.

❥ Perhaps a subordinate entered the laboratory on you two and was found dead the next day. Now, nobody dares to enter any room without knocking. But unsurprisingly, Dottore was satisfied by the outcome as everyone knew you loved him now, and not anyone else.

❥ He may be acting bratty, but the second a leash is attached to his harness, he's on all fours, begging for attention. You can't even imagine how he loved seeing the marks that the choker left on his neck, tempting him to just show it off to anyone. Either he is loud enough that everyone can hear, or he's shutting himself up by shoving his fingers into his mouth, embarrassed by the noises he lets out.

❥ So, treat him roughly when you're punishing him, but always be gentle after, offering him all the attention he craved for since the start. Because, even if he acts that way, Dottore would never leave or betray you in the end. He is yours, and you are his.

Arlecchino

❥ As someone who is 'taking care' of children, she's more used to paying attention to others and giving 'love' instead of her receiving some. But with you, the role has changed, and she's the person being showered with everything she wants. And she loves it.

❥ She enjoys having all your attention on her, she baths in it and would not let go of you for any reason. Her cold and stoic demeanour disappears at night, after finishing a difficult day at the orphanage, she just needs you and acts softer.

❥ She would not beg for attention, but she makes it clear that she wants something from you, sending you a sharp glare if you're talking with one of the Fatui or working instead of spending your night with her. Most of the time, you would end up with your fingers inside of her, going as deep as you can, admiring how pretty she looked when she was going to cum.

❥ She's a power bottom, she enjoys being in control, she requires it to feel comfortable and can't imagine herself not doing anything and leaving all the work to you. She knows everything about your body and how to pleasure you, and it's the same for you, so at the end of the night, you both end up with a fuzzy mind and fucked out face.

❥ Despite being in control, she worships you, you brought a new light to her life and she couldn't be happier. She wouldn't hesitate to betray the Tsaritsa if it meant that she could spend the rest of her life with you. If you had a bad day, she would scold you and act like a mother, but not so long after, she's on her knees, trying her best to make you forget about it.

❥ Arlecchino is someone who refuses to let go of the control she has over a situation, but it doesn't stop her from worshipping you almost like her god.

Tartaglia

❥ Tartaglia is the masochist and desperate one.

❥ After meeting you in Liyue and spending a night with you, he was obsessed. He could not stop thinking about it, whenever he had a break, his mind was filled with memories of this night.

❥ He searched everywhere for you, and when he found you, it was over, he never left your side. Or more like he was not letting you leave him, he needed you.

❥ He was so desperate that any touch of yours that could be perceived as sexual, even in public, was making him hard. It wasn't rare that he ended up with a boner in the middle of a conversation because your hand was placed on his thigh, wrapped your arm around his waist or kissed his neck. But even with how desperate he was, he refused to touch himself, because only you could do this.

❥ He absolutely adored when you were mad because he knew that if he pushed the right buttons, the same night, he would be covered in bruises, and you would wrap your hand around his throat in an oh-so tight and delicious way.

❥ He started to wear a harness after he saw you look at Dottore's neck for a bit too long. And he couldn't get enough of your new habit, which was sliding your hand under it and just squeeze while hugging him from behind, he was going crazy every time you would do this. He also loved when at night, before going to bed, you would take the harness off along with his shirt and trace the marks it left on his skin.

❥ Slap him, kick him, spit on him, and he would thank you. He craved anything you could give him, whatever it was. But despite his masochist tendencies, a simple kiss from you along with a 'good boy' while you jerk him off could make him cum in a second, eyes rolling back and a dumb fucked out smile on his face.

❥ Tartaglia is the sub that is obsessed with you, and as long as you give him what he wants, he won't need to use more drastic measures. Don't touch someone else, or he will lose it.

⏤ Thank you for reading! I wish you a great day.

⏤ here is my masterlist & ko-fi ⏤

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theerurishipper · 5 months

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Am I selfish for wishing Marinette wasn't the protagonist? She doesn't really connect to the plot besides her love arc and I don't find it that interesting. Like a lot of female protagonists like the cast of Totally Spies the girls force to work for Jerry, or Bloom finding she's a fairy and has the dragon flame or Iris from lolirock who finds out she's Princess of Ephedia. Like you have all these ladies who's arc isn't just connected to just love like it's part of it but romance isn't central to their character they have more to them.

Like it's so weird honestly because I never really knew of a protagonist who just didn't connect with the story instead the secondary character has. His father the villain, he has fans and many who crush on him, he's a model but he's secretly also the famed ChatNoir, he's an abused child who want their parent attention, rich, and a little behind when it comes to social cues. Like? Are we sure he's not the protagonist is that why the show gives him such little contributions and makes others take what he's deserves. Like the book from early on s2, felix finding out his mother in the basement, Kagami learning early on the whole agreste situation and doing a whole play in front of Ladybug with Felix to convey the situation.

She's in every episode most MC's aren't always there sometimes they leave for an episode or two or have someone take the spotlight but she is there 24/7. Like I kinda want to know another character for a chance because I already gauged enough of her character to know romance is all there is to her lol. I don't know can't we have an Adrien central episode, Alya, Kagami, hell even Luka?

No wonder I think the cast are so bland to me because they just appear we don't really know them personally besides if they get akumatized.

Marinette to me is like if we're seeing the blushing female girl and the entire show from a Hinata perspective in Naruto just there to pine for a boy who aren't even that close.

You're not selfish for that, anon. We all have our different tastes. Personally, I like Marinette as the protagonist, but we all have different likes and dislikes.

I will say that the writing for Marinette as a protagonist is pretty lacking though. She doesn't have any connection to the main plot on her own and can only have any relevance in the final battle of her show by taking the place of some other character. The show is literally allergic to taking the focus off her for more than five seconds. Plenty of shows that have a single character as their main lead also devote few episodes to the developing the side characters.

For example, a superhero show like Miraculous would usually have an episode where Ladybug is incapacitated, and Chat Noir has to do the saving. But Miraculous can't handle not having Marinette be the one to save the day at all times, so Chat Noir is just always reduced to being the sidekick or the one who gets caught and has to have Ladybug save him. Like, even in episodes where it seems like Chat Noir will have a larger role to play, the writers can't help but have it be Ladybug who saves the day in the end. Even in episodes that seem like they are going to focus on Adrien, Marinette will have some B plot shoehorned in that will take over the entire episode until it seems like Adrien's conflict is the actual B plot.

Like you said, it's not wrong for the protagonist to take a step back in a few episodes and let the supporting characters shine. Miraculous' habit of shoving Marinette into the resolution for every other conflict but her own is detrimental to both her own character and every other character. It's just bad writing, honestly.

Thank you for your ask!

#ML Salt #ML Writing Salt #ML Writers Salt #Marinette Salt #Asks #Meta #My meta

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