see the thing about Astarion to me is I don't actually think he has a clue who he actually is beneath all of the everything he's got going on. he's got impulses, he's got drive, a will to live, he's got desires and amusements and cravings, but an actual selfhood?? no. there's a blue error screen where the person of him should be, the person -- whoever that was, I'm personally of the mind he likely wasn't good then either, but we'll see where the story takes us -- before Cazador. the man in front of us today is this mishmash of interior delight at freedom and sunlight but also capable of true unapologetic cruelty and willingness to be ugly in a multitude of ways. so he follows the impulse. he follows what intrigues and amuses, and nothing will take that freedom from him again. and he reflects back onto others the violence that was done unto him. a lack of power kept him down? now he wants to accumulate power, so it can never be turned on him again. but he also misses the sun while he's underground. he's mean and desperate and ruthless and it's interesting because he's unapologetic about it, he's unflinching about it. he's vindictive and mean and desperately floundering around throwing stuff at a wall to see what sticks in terms of personhood because who is he now. 200 years of horrific servitude and now he's just out and about and he's in the mud.
and he can be horrible. and yet when you take the routes of prying open the faaairly shallow veneer he has of smug and snark and snappiness, he'll give you pieces of the raw and the desperate -- "I want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. what you see." is a line you only get if you're earnest with him. any other path in the dialogue will have him continue the shallow persona you've come to know. and in all of that I think nothing is "this is real, this is an act," set in stone because I just don't think he even knows, I don't think he has a CLUE what's his and what's the protective measures and what's the real delight and what's the cruel mockery of his surroundings and what he's willing to give vs what he needs to hide vs what he lets slip out on accident. the inconsistencies in his own ideas and what he says and what he does. I think most everything about him is in a weird place of deeply uncertain. is it a lie? is it a glimmer of truth? for me, I like to interpret him in this weird menagerie of half-truths and shallow lies and omissions, because we've only known him a short while and maybe also he doesn't even know the answer yet. who is he? fuck if HE knows. anyways. smash.
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nsfw, sub. urogi, dom. reader, adult reader!!, gn. reader (cock mentioned, can be a strap or not), pet play, praise kink, handjobs, anal sex, restraints, cnc (safe word agreed before narrative), ruined orgasm, absolute filthy smut
urogi is so cute when he's being fucked, he's such a lovely pet.
he's playful, he's always smiling and cracking small comments through the act, but most of the time because he faces how flustered he actually is by being goofy. his laughter comes out brokenly from his mouth when you tell him he's being such a good pet for you, his cheeks darken and his stomach flutters at the praise.
urogi is also restless, he does not stay still for a moment, he always feels and listens to his body so he can't stop his hips from swinging while giving him head or handjobs, from fluttering his wings excitedly, from digging his claws onto the matress and ripping the fabric, from kicking his feet when he's close, even shivering and getting goosebumps from your hand only running along his back.
don't be surprised if he gets louder as you go on, he is most likely to scream if you make him feel too good. but dear mercy, the real problem is when he moves too much, he kicks his feet and swings his hips so much more when he's approaching orgasm. you get to play with this sometimes, by giving him a punishment.
he cries so loudly when he can't feel himself fully, he gets desperate as you torture him by having him all tied up to a chair, no movements allowed, no freedom at all. his upper taloons are tied behind his back, lower ones tied to the chair's legs and wings closed restrained with chains. he suffers even more when you're giving him a handjob and his orgasm approaches, restraints never letting him rock around, feeling desperate and uncomfortable in his own body. pretty tears rolling down his cheeks at his ruined orgasm, whining "noo..! stop it, please, untie me (y/n) please!"
his complaints go unaddressed as you tighten your grip on his cock with both hands and begin to jerk him off harder and faster, making him shout at the overstimulation on his sensitive and swollen tip "don't be so scandalous, be a good pet and take it".
he can't break free from the ropes and so he begins to beg again "no! no! stop!! nghah! i c-can't!! i can't take it! make it s-stop! please please!!" he cries out, his body desperately fighting against your restrictions trying to escape your merciless torture "fuck, fuck, fuck!!" more tears falling off his eyes as he shut them close.
it only takes him a few moments to loosen and fall exhausted on the chair, his body no longer capable of enduring his punishment, dry dark red cheeks and yellow eyes begging to rest. his chest goes up and down trying to recover but he's so tired, he just wants now an eternal nap, he, the so hyperactive urogi, wants nothing more than rest.
but the fun only just begins for you, now that he endured his punishment all the way, it is time to reward him, just when he gets to control his breath and recover just a little bit, you untie all of his extremities and carry him to the futon, making him lay on his tummy for you. he knows what you are doing but he's so ruined and sore to even speak. "my little pet took the punishment so well, it shall receive a reward for being so strong~" he barely jolts at your thumb rubbing his entrance before sliding two fingers in, his cheeks go darker and his mouth twists into a grimace, he feels he could almost cry for being praised so lovingly after a torture that felt like hours.
you succesfully manage to make urogi stay still while you fuck him without any restraints. you fuck his ass surprisingly lovingly, slow hip movements allowing you to dig deeper inside of him and making him moan the sweetest noises you ever heard. he enjoys this slow fucking, especially after being used mercilessly by you minutes ago.
"my baby, i was so rough to you, you like being fucked like this? yeah? mmh, of course, you're my good pet, you deserve no less" you say as you slam your hips a little bit faster against him.
your praises only help him feel more dizzy and cock-drunk. he just loves how good your dick feels inside of him and how gently you treat him, he is too tired to have his body responding to you so he just mumbles and moans nonsense until he comes again, as a prize this time.
masterlist | pinned post | rules
thanks for reading!
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Steve's kindness is, like all self-taught one, a mirage of borrowed expressions, a collage of habits picked from people he loved, a bit stilled but eager and well-meaning, sometimes a bit chopped at the sides, a growing want to let the good feelings out in front of the right people.
Eddie liked to sometimes watch him and find all the signs of other people in him, try to match them up to right people.
He would watch and think - this is Nancy's stubbornness to never give up on people and Dustin's loyalty, he would see him trying to give advice to Dustin and see Johnathan's akward pep-talks to Will. The way he would always try to have snacks for the kids screamed both Joyce's and Mrs. Henderson motherly kindness. His willingness to sit in silence, a steady presence, when somebody needed it shined with Will's warmth. How he fights for the people he cares about, letting his meaness be a defense for them all, a barier and a shield similar to Max's snark.
And whenever he found himself to be the matching person? It made him feel loved, so fucking loved and seen that he would choke on it.
Eddie sometimes would make a game out of it, to found the matching puzzle whenever Steve's kindness shone (and it was a lot of the time). It was always someone from the party and he would always find himself with a strange fond warmth whenever he realized who it was. And usually he was good at it, it wasn't really hard when he loved and knew all those people too
There were exceptions though. The first one was Robin and it wasn't for the lack of Eddie's knowledge and love for her and moreso because of the whole RobinandSteve being always so SteveandRobin, never really separate. Whatever was Steve's was also Robin's, their clothes, habits or sometimes even their smiles shone in the same way. They were mismatched in a funny melted together sort of way, his kindness was her and hers was his and it was hard to difference between the two when even they didn't know where one ended and the other began, they traded traits like they traded clothes, wore them bright pink socks with yellow soft sweater, a joke to cheer you up with a soft you can tell me anything in the same breath.
He didn't really knew whose kindness it was the innate one that must have been deep within Steve before he let it shine or Robin's. He didn't think it would really matter anyway, they would trade it between themselves like shiny cards anyway.
The other one was a smile. An unique one, one that Eddie swore he saw somewhere before and that lacked the freckles and a missing teeth except noone in the party had these two traits, at least not as Eddie knew them and he could never find that one puzzle. It was boyish and full of mischief, usually with a starry reflection in Steve's eyes.
The last one was a lift in his tone, the way he would make his voice honey-like sweet when he tells Robin her new haircut suits her or El's new shirt brought out her eyes. The intonation always made Eddie think of bubble gum and sugared summers.
He couldn't place the last two to nobody. At least not until Steve told him about Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins.
Obviously Eddie knew about them, but Stevie didn't talk about how they are. But how they used to be.
"Sweet." he said while passing the joint they shared laying on Eddie's bed, pressed from shoulders to their ankles. "Carol used to be sweet, warm with the naive love only kids hold" Steve's eyes were looking out the window of Eddie's room, as if he could see the young version of them just outside playing childlish games. "and Tommy used to be wild. But not like bad wild, more like he was always chasing trouble, adventure. Like kids do."
And Eddie couldn't see it, not with how the world twisted them into different people, cruel. More cold, all sharp teeth and autumn's rain.
Except he could, he could in Steve's special smile and the sound of his voice, he could see it and he could see the love that Steve Harrington had for them.
"They're douchebags now," he said when Eddie voiced it out loud "but I did loved them once, sometimes I feel like I've never stopped, they just... Grew out of my love, grew into something I couldn't."
It should be strange, to love something someone isn't anymore, but to Eddie it just spoke of the way Steve Harrington threw himself into love, how he never really stopped loving and caring. It was admirable, it was so lovable and it was so Steve-like. Earnest in the sweetest way.
It made sense that Steve Harrington would love people even through his expression of it.
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A tribute to one of my favorite Switch games Luigi's Mansion 3
This piece was a pain. First off, I wanted to get it done last week but life happened and I kinda put it off. Second, I couldn't figure out the background so I settled for a bunch of Goobs instead. Lastly, I not only had to redraw Gooigi twice but trying to recreate his liquid-like shading and lighting was a bitch.
Despite that, it was all worth it.
Seriously, I've played this game four times since it's release back in 2019.
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