#As there are a few more punishments until then

[harmonyrae]

Merging Territories

Synopsis: You just need a little more time with him, you don’t want him to go. Sylus once said actions are more sincere. It’s time to act, no more games.

AN: This is my interpretation of Sylus’s Night of Secrecy memory.

Content Warnings: Fingering, oral (f receiving), handjob, praise kink, implied unprotected sex, PiV, squirting, cream pie, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 4.6k

“I won.”

You couldn’t hide your smirk as you slid the final part into place on the gun. You shift on the carpet and turn to face Sylus, pressing the muzzle under Sylus’s chin. His eyes narrow and raises his hands in defeat. He lets out a breathy chuckle, tilting his chin to look at you.

“And I lost. Go ahead. Ask your question.”

You’re suddenly aware of how warm the room is. The fireplace crackles and pops, providing the only light in the large sitting room. Sylus’s features are shrouded in shadow, his skin looks warm and soft. You weren’t exactly sure what you wanted to do, you just wanted to spend more time with him. You weren’t ready for him to go. Just a little more time. 

As you stare into Sylus’s eyes, you feel your stomach tighten. You decided to trust your instincts, not entirely sure if it was a good idea or not. You lower the gun, check the safety is on and place it on the floor before locking eyes with him again.

“I’m sleepy.”

“Uh…”

His confusion mirrors your own. You felt your cheeks burn and you hope he can’t tell in the low lighting. The past few months have flown by, you remember meeting Sylus and how much you initially hated him. But over time, you’d seen a side of him that made your heart pound and butterflies flutter in your stomach. You knew what you wanted. Sylus’s words echo in your mind.

I believe sincerity is not having to beat around the bush or play any games.

You had played your game and now, you felt guilty. You swallow your anxiety and square your shoulders.

“Can you… tuck me in?”

Sylus raises a brow and leans forward. His eyes scan your face, like he’s trying to figure something out.

“I thought a certain relentless hunter would ask about my destination.”

You cross your arms and pout dramatically.

“I care more about the present than an answer I can’t get. So… Are you doing it or not?”

“Of course, kitten.”

That damn smirk is back and you can’t stop staring at his mouth. He stands before leaning down to pick you up. You wrap your arms around his neck as he tucks an arm under your legs. He swiftly picks up your heels, which were discarded next to the couch. He looks down at you as he makes his way out of the sitting room and towards the stairs.

“This request is way more powerful than that little gun.”

You feel your heart pounding in your chest, your brain feels fuzzy. You try to keep your hands still and not give in to the temptation to drag your hand down his exposed chest. He had undone his tie and unbuttoned his shirt shortly after getting home, intending to change but you challenged him to your little game. It was like you were being punished for messing with him. He had just sat there, his torso on display for you. 

You kept your eyes on his face, trying to ignore the delicious firmness of his abdomen against your hip. He looks down at you, his eyes look… gentle? The smirk from downstairs was gone, replaced with a soft smile. You hear a clatter and glance over his shoulder to see your shoes discarded on the floor. His arm circling around your waist, his hand resting on your hip.

He enters the bedroom and strides to the couch next to the window. The snow was building up rather quickly, a thin sheet of white covering the lawn outside. He stops at the couch and waits for you to let go so he can set you down. But that all too familiar twinge of panic settles over you, keep him close.  “If you don’t want to lie down, I can keep holding you until I leave.”

Another memory flashes in your mind. The small yurt in the grasslands, the bed you shared with him, his strong arms wrapped around you keeping you warm.

Sincerity really is the best.

“What if I don’t want you to leave…?”

Sylus holds your gaze. You move your hand slowly and rest your palm against the side of his neck. His heart beat is rapid and his skin feels warmer than before.

“Then.. we better make the most of our time before dawn.”

He leans down, forcing you to set your feet on the floor. He stands before you, you barely realize your hand is still resting on his chest. God, you want this. You don’t want to lose your nerve.

You push him down onto the couch, he grunts, a brief expression of surprise gracing his face. You settle your knee between his legs. You press your hand against his chest again, your fingers itching to explore. He tilts his head forward and looks at you, his eyes urging you to continue. 

Actions do speak louder than words. And more sincere.

He’s right. You’ve tried to find the right words for the past three days and they always get lost between your brain and your mouth. It’s time to stop thinking so damn much. 

You caress his face, slipping your hand behind his neck. His reaction to your touch tells you everything you need to know. His shaky breath and the corner of his mouth curling upwards - his excitement palpable. You pull him to you and the moment your lips touch, your mind clears. His kiss is exactly like you imagined it to be. The kiss is needy and rapid, he moves like he is intoxicated. You wrap your arm around his neck, feeling his chest graze yours sets your skin ablaze again.

You bring your other knee down and straddle his leg, inching yourself closer to him. He places a hand on the back of your thigh and pulls you to him. Your bodies collide, your knee finally presses against his groin and your breath catches. He was so fucking hard. His hand trails up to your ass and he holds you close.

He pulls back for only a moment, his breathing unsteady and his eyes hazy. 

“You really don’t want me to leave?”

He leans forward once again to capture your lips. His hands start to explore your back, his fingers sending chills over your exposed skin. You roll your hips, desperate for more. He moans into your mouth, his tongue finally tracing your lips requesting entrance - you immediately oblige. His hands drift down to your waist and he lifts you, allowing you to shift and properly straddle him. 

You hold his shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself, but your thighs are already burning and you just want to sit down. But if you do that, he will undoubtedly feel how wet you are. Your panties soaked and your lace shorts wouldn’t serve as much of a barrier. You needed to change positions, you wanted to feel his body on top of you. You mumble into his mouth, your words lost amongst the messy kisses. Sylus opens his eyes and meets yours.

“Sylus, over there…”

Your head tilts towards the bed. He tucks his hands under your ass and lifts you up, your legs wrapping around him in an instant. His leg hits the bed and he sinks his knee into the mattress, slowly lowering you down onto your back, his lips never leaving yours.

As you settle on the bed, he pulls back to look at you. His cheeks flushed and his lips puffy. You reach up to lock your fingers behind his neck to pull him down. He holds back and that smug smile returns. His fingers caress your cheek and for a moment it’s like you are meeting him for the first time. But instead of cowering, you are holding on for dear life, never wanting to let go.

“Looks like we’re on the same page when it comes to not wanting to waste time.”

You try to control your breathing, but staring at him doesn’t help. You try to look away, but his hand catches your chin. He takes hold of your face, keeping you in place. 

“Stay focused, kitten.”

He covers your eyes with his other hand. 

“Don’t look.”

With your eyes covered, your other senses buzz to life. He starts kissing you again, his open mouth kisses leaving you even more breathless. He lets his tongue dip out and trace your lips before placing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You finally allow yourself to moan, softly at first to test the waters. You feel his hips lower and he grinds against you. His response was more than you could have hoped for. Just the thought of him being so turned on by the sounds you make is almost enough to send you over the edge. 

All you can hear are your combined breathy moans and the pounding of your heart in your ears. He glides his hand down your arm and threads his fingers with yours. His thumb gently rubbing your palm.

When he finally removes his hand from over your eyes, you want to giggle at his love drunk expression. You’re not even sure he can still see you through the haze. You reach up and touch his cheek, his warmth seeping into your fingertips.

“Am I being too greedy… if I ask you to keep your eyes only on me?”

As you pull away, he grabs your hand. 

“You always had that right.”

He places a chaste kiss on your wrist.

“Which means…”

He leans down and places kisses along your neck and collarbone. You feel his lips drag across your skin and you clench your fists, grabbing a fistful of the comforter beneath you. Your moans are much louder now. His lips are so soft, and every time they make contact you feel your clit throb.

“You can be even greedier.”

He hovers just over your breast, he lets his lips press down gently, kissing your nipple through your top. You feel a burst of pleasure. You wanted nothing more than for his lips to explore every inch of your body.

He rises, reaching down to lift your leg beside him. His hand strokes your thigh before he bends to place a kiss on your knee. When his eyes meet yours again, the intensity behind his gaze overwhelms your senses.

“Do you want it, kitten?”

You take a moment and let your eyes roam. His silver necklace dangles from his neck, sweat has started to drip down his chest, his abs look tight - like he is tensing, awaiting your answer. And then you see how his pants have become much too tight, his erection threatening to break through the confines at any moment. There was only one answer to his question and you didn’t have to think.

“Yes.”

His smile vanishes as he leans in, hungry for more. The answer is yes, but you didn’t want him to think you could be tossed around like a ragdoll. Well, you wouldn’t mind that, but you didn’t want to feel powerless. You know what you like and what you want him to do to you. And what you want to do to him. 

You reach your hand up and place it firmly against his chest stopping him in his tracks. He grunts, his brows knit together and his eyes light up with panic. He regains his composure and  slowly lowers his hand under your knee, pulling you downwards. You feel your tits bounce at the sudden movement. 

“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” 

He bends your knee once more, bringing your thigh up to his mouth. He kisses your inner thigh right by your knee. The thought of his kisses trailing down your thigh until he sinks his face into your soaked pussy…

“You just said ‘yes’?” 

His voice is needy and broken with his gasps for air.

“I’m hoping yes is still your answer because…”

He releases your thigh and slowly lowers himself on top of you. Your thighs spread open and he presses his erection against your center. He lowers to his elbows, tucks a hand under your waist and holds your face with the other.

“I just can’t hold back anymore.”

He traces your lips with his thumb before diving back in. His kisses seem more desperate now, he doesn’t wait for either of you to catch your breath. He nips at your lower lip and his intensity grows with every shift of your hips or moan echoing from your throat.

You start to feel dizzy. And not the fun kind of dizzy, the “I might pass out” kind.

“Sylus… I can’t breathe…”

You finally push Sylus away and try to catch your breath. You feel a strand of hair fall against your forehead, you try to blow it away, but it stays put. Sylus brushes it aside, tucking it behind your ear. 

He holds your chin, forcing you to look at him. He looks down at you and, while you’re completely clothed, you feel exposed. He can feel your body shiver, your nipples hard and needy beneath your blouse. He’s reading you like a book. He nuzzles his face into your neck. He sinks his teeth into the tender flesh above your collarbone. He’s fucking biting you. And god, it felt incredible. You can’t suppress a moan, but quickly clear your throat and try to be angry. 

“Hey, no biting here.”

He sighs.

“First you want it rough, now you want it soft… You’re a tough one to please tonight, kitten.”

He slides a hand behind your neck and soothes the sensitive skin with tender kisses. He pulls back, lifting his chest away from yours and looks down at you, his eyes glowing in the dim light.

“What do you really want? Won’t you be honest and tell me like you just did?”

You let your hands glide down his chest, digging your nails in as you pass over his nipples and down to his abs. You feel him shudder, here’s your chance.

“... I’m not falling for your tricks.”

You push his shoulder hard, he tips and you hook your leg, rolling him over. The change in positions allows you to finally take a deep breath. You plant your hands on his chest as you take in his shocked expression. You rarely catch him off guard, it’s a treat really. 

“I told you that a hunter doesn’t like being passive.”

His eyes narrow and he nods slowly. His hands wrap around your waist and he traces the zipper of your top. He tugs gently at the zipper tab, just enough to send the message.

“So, you want control.” His voice was raspy and so damn sexy.

Your new position was supposed to help you get more air, but with Sylus fiddling with your top, your chest heaves. You close your eyes and run your hands down his chest again, feeling the goosebumps rise across his skin under your fingertips.  

“Unfortunately, I can’t give it to you. Not yet, at least.”

He finally pulls the tab further down, the buzz of the teeth separating fills the room. Your top loosens and you feel his hand press against your newly exposed skin. He hesitates, giving you a moment to stop him. Instead, you pull the straps down and pull your top away, tossing it to the floor behind you. 

His hands slide up your back unhindered before gliding his hand around to cup your breast. The feeling of his palm on the underside of your tit makes you shiver. His thumb flicks over your nipple and you moan, throwing your head back. 

Your body is on fire as his hands explore your breasts, squeezing and tugging until you grab his wrists. He tucks his hands under your ass and lifts you, he sits up against the headboard. He wraps an arm around your waist while his other hand squeezes your breast, lifting it to his mouth. He rolls his tongue over the hardened peak before closing his lips around it. He holds your nipple between his teeth, not biting, but the pressure is enough to make you rock your hips against him. 

He releases your breast, his mouth moving to the other as he sinks his hand down the back of your shorts. He squeezes your ass while he suckles your breast, he’s painfully slow in his movements.

You try to lean back, the teasing becoming torturous. 

“... Don’t run.”

“You’re… so annoying…” Your voice barely above a whisper.

“I won’t deny it. I guess you can say I lied. Tonight, you’re not the only one feeling greedy…”

He picks you up, his hands under your thighs and you reach around his neck instinctively. He leans forward quickly and your back meets the bed again. His head dips down and he places kisses down your chest, kissing each nipple before continuing down your stomach.

“And I won’t be leaving until this greed is completely satisfied.” 

He reaches the waistband of your shorts and traces it with his finger. He hesitates. “Ah, I misspoke.”

You look down at him and watch him crawl over you until you’re face-to-face. 

“What…?”

He stares into your eyes, lifting a hand to gently hold your cheek.

“Greed can never be satisfied…”

He picks up your hand and places it against his chest. You feel his rapid heart beat. 

“But you can temporarily soothe it.”

His voice is calm, but the storm behind his eyes tugs at your heartstrings. He needs to know that you want him as much as he wants you.

“Say it again. Do you want it?”

You run your fingers through his damp hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You reach up and lock your fingers behind his neck, pulling him to you. You kiss him sweetly. He lets out a breath, as if he’d been holding it this whole time. You press your forehead to his.

“This is my answer.”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips once more. His hands move urgently to knead your breasts. You grab hold of his shirt and push it over his shoulders, he tugs the shirt loose and tosses it aside. Your hands explore his body, the definition of his abs, the curve of his chest, the deep V leading to the waistband of his pants.

He hooks his fingers and tugs your shorts and underwear down in one motion. The sudden burst of air against your core makes you moan loudly. You felt his fingers slide across your pussy, stopping at your clit to pinch and tug. You arch your back off the bed and cry out.

“Sy…!”

You hear a deep chuckle as the bed dips and you feel your legs being pushed apart. You look down in time to see his face dig into you. His nose rubs against your clit while his tongue presses into your entrance. He works slowly, reveling in your body reacting to every flick of his tongue. 

He shifts his mouth and sucks in your clit. You feel your hips twitch and you grind against his face. A deep moan of approval vibrates against your clit and your hands fly down to grip Sylus’s hair. Your tugs only earn you more groans and vibrations leaving you shaking. His finger circles your entrance and you buck your hips again.

“Sylus fuck…!”

You can feel him smile against your pussy. He wastes no time and presses in two fingers until his palm is flat against you. He curls them slowly and he strokes a spot that makes you see stars almost immediately. 

You’re shamelessly riding his hand now, your hips bucking every time he hits that spot. You feel tears pool and spill over. Your orgasm builds rapidly. You tug on Sylus’s hair once more, harder this time. He groans and pulls back just enough, his words muffled.

“Come for me, beautiful.” 

You hold your breath, calling on your remaining willpower to make this request.

“No, Sylus… I want… I need –”

His movements slow and he lifts his head to look at you, his fingers still pumping in and out slowly. You wiggle your hips away from his agile fingers, but Sylus grabs your hip, pressing you into the mattress to keep you still. 

“Tell me what you desire.” His voice is smooth as silk.

“I want you… inside me... Please Sylus...”

Sylus smiles, your arousal coats his chin and he licks his lips savoring your taste. He leans down to kiss you, slowly and purposefully. You taste yourself and whimper. He removes his fingers and runs his hands up your thighs.

“So direct.”

He reaches down to pull at his belt. You reach down to help him and he chuckles, placing his hand back on the bed to let you handle it. He rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ll give you anything you want, sweetie. Everything I have is yours.”

You unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper, your hands shaking as your mind reels from his words. You meet his gaze as your hand slides down the front of his boxers. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock and firmly drift your hand up and down. His mouth falls open and he gasps quietly.

“All I want is you.”

You feel lighter, like this secret you’d been keeping was weighing you down. And for what? You had finally let your guard down, you didn’t need it when you were with him. Not anymore. He was what you wanted, he made you feel safe, seen, beautiful, happy. 

Hearing your words stirred something in him. He looks down at you, his eyes glistening. The smile on his face is radiant and you trace it with your thumb, wanting to always remember this moment. 

He pulls your hand from his boxers before standing briefly to remove his pants and boxers completely. How he felt didn’t do him justice, he was going to fill you and then some. He chuckles, he must have seen your eyes widen. He crawls back onto the bed and hovers over you, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Don’t be afraid, kitten. I have you. I won’t hurt you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down, his chest presses against you and you sigh at how perfect his skin feels against yours. One of his hands dips down and starts tracing languid circles around your clit. You kiss him hard, feeling his presence everywhere. 

He rolls you over to your side and guides your leg over his hip. His arm under you wrapping around your shoulder to keep you close. You hold his cheek before raking your fingers through his hair. 

You finally feel the head of his cock press against your entrance and you shudder. He reaches down, angles himself and then tucks his hand under your knee, lifting your leg higher. He starts to press into you and you have to break the kiss to groan in response. He takes his time, letting you adjust and stretch. He waits for you to push your hips forward, begging for more of him, before he continues. You grab a fistful of his hair and dig your nails into his back. 

“Are you ready? Tell me…”

His muffled words bring you back. You let out a breathy laugh and bury your face in his neck.

“Yes, Sy… all of you.”

He bucks his hips one last time and buries himself fully. You scream his name, completely overwhelmed. He strokes your hip and cradles your head. He kisses you slowly as he pulls out and rams back into you. You moan into his mouth, incoherent words tumble from your lips.

“You’re so… perfect, so… so beautiful…” 

His words are broken, his pace quickening with every syllable. You start to match his movements, feeling him deeper and deeper with every thrust. He rolls you on your back once more and you wrap your legs around his waist, locking your heels. His lips trail down your neck to your chest, his pace never faltering. 

“Feels so – ngh – you feel so good Sy… oh god…”

His moans start to sound like whimpers as he takes in your praises. You want to hear him and feel him and hold him, always. Your muscles clench and you feel the pressure building, Sylus can feel it too, your walls fluttering around him bringing him close to the brink as well. He starts to thrust faster, his hands finding your breasts again to pinch and tug at your swollen nipples. 

Your thighs burn from how tightly you’re holding onto him and pulling yourself upwards. Every nerve is on fire and your lungs burn with how hard you are breathing. His pace starts to become erratic, his hips stuttering. 

“Come for me, Sy. Come in me…”

He holds his breath, trying to slow down and hold off, but you’re not letting him. You realize he wanted control, but really he never had it. Not completely. His pleasure is directly linked to your own. And he wants to give you everything you desire. Right now, all you desire is feeling his release deep inside you. He’s already made his way into your heart and now… 

That’s when it hits you. You place kisses along his jaw and down his neck. You sink your teeth into his skin and the way he moans your name sends you right over the edge. You release his neck and throw your head back, chanting his name louder and louder. Your climax gushes across his abdomen and thighs, soaking the sheets beneath you. 

“Fuck fuck fuck…”

Sylus tries to continue his movements, but once he sees the intensity of your release he can’t hold back. You feel the warmth of his cum and nearly cry out with how full you feel. His cock buried deep inside you, his cum filling you to the brim, his voice singing your name, his lips peppering your face and neck with open mouth kisses. 

He slowly pulls out and you unhook your legs, you fall to the bed and your legs tremble. Sylus rubs your hips, massaging them carefully. Your breathing steadies and you force your eyes open. Sylus hovers above you, he looks at you with so much admiration and joy, his hair slicked back with sweat, his neck bearing the mark you left. You reach up to hold his face, stroking his cheeks softly. 

“My beloved…” You whisper.

Sylus collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, smothering you with a thousand kisses. You wrap your arms around him and hold him close. You’ve never felt so at peace. 

You desperately want more, but your mind is drifting. Sylus senses your exhaustion, he rolls off of you, sits up to grab the blanket from the bottom of the bed, covers you both and drapes an arm over your waist. You roll on your side and lean back, letting him pull you to him until your back is flat against his chest. You lift your head and Sylus slips his arm under, letting you use his arm as a pillow. You let out a deep contented sigh. 

With Sylus holding you close, his steady breaths fanning your ear, his heart beat putting you at ease, it doesn’t take long for you to fall into a dreamless sleep. You wonder if you’ll ever dream again? What’s left to dream of? You have everything you could possibly dream of right here.

AN (part 2): I want to note a few things real quick. Even with their dialogue about control, I feel like it was less about who dominates and more about love making. I also FIRMLY believe MC has a TON of control. In my opinion, Sylus enjoys dominance in the act, but not necessarily in the relationship. He will do anything she desires. Thank you for reading!! :)

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22

[anyroads]

I can't convey the insanity of how fast this fire happened. If you grew up in Southern California, you know to be prepared for wildfire evacuations and earthquakes. A lot of people have go bags, and a plan for what to pack when you have to do so quickly. But the timeline for that has always been a few hours at least, if not a day, maybe even two. This fire spread so insanely fast that people went from clear skies and no warnings to having ten minutes, or even no minutes, to grab what they could and run. People lost pets, especially cats, because there's no way to get a panicking animal into a carrier when the flames are at your door.

Most of the headlines about the Palisades fire are about what celebrities lost homes already. So I need you to understand that while yeah, the Palisades has become an upscale area and the hills have expensive houses, it was a middle class neighborhood until about 20 years ago so a lot of its residents have been there for 50 or 60 years, when homes were affordable to middle class working families. A lot of residents inherited their home from grandparents or parents who bought them when it was an affordable area. There are (were. past tense now. were.) neighborhoods full of 2-3 bedroom houses that you could have afforded if you'd been born 30 years earlier and lived in West LA. Most of the people there aren't celebrities or multi-millionaires - those people lived in houses that were built more recently and in undeveloped areas. I also need you to understand that there are several fires around LA, most of which are affecting middle and working class people. I say this because the headlines care more about celebrities and places people know from movies but it's not reflective of the extent of the damage. I say this because I know how tumblr is and this is not the time for tankie bullshit and inhumanity.

In my 9th grade science class we learned about climate change. We learned about the projected changes and disasters that we could expect in the first half of the 21st century. Yesterday I watched on a live broadcast as the classroom I learned this in went up in flames, while right wing conspiracy theorists and Trump blamed everyone and everything except climate change. This fire happened because it hasn't rained in LA for 8 months, and the Santa Ana winds were absurdly intense this week, getting up to 75mph. The LA Fire Dept had funding cut to fund the police like OP said, and hydrants ran out of water.

Embers can stay live while carried in the wind for miles, and every area with dry brush and palm trees just needs a spark right now. I know this because I learned it growing up. I'm literally watching the horror scenes that kept me up at night in high school as part of an imagined future play out in real time. This is climate change. And thank goodness it happened while Biden is still president and could declare it a federal emergency which means FEMA resources and help are available now, which will matter to all the people who are already being told to fuck off by the insurance companies they've paid fire insurance to for years. Because I have no doubt that if this happened two weeks later, all that support would be withheld as punishment for California's election results.

Southern California is on fire

In 2024, L.A. Mayor Karen Bass defunded the LA Fire Department by $17.3 million.

The LA Police Department, however, got a $138 million budget increase.

Among the firefighters, 30% of them are inmate firefighters who are risking their lives for $2 an hour. Only for them to not be able to get a job as a firefighter once they're released.

There are now 4 fires burning across Socal. The one getting the most attention is the Palisades fire which has grown to over 11,000 acres. Alongside it is the Altadena fire (over 10,000 acres), Hurst fire (700 acres), and Lidia fire (50 acres).

Due to the unprecedented Santa Ana winds, which have blown to over 100 mph, firefighters have not been able to make a dent on these fires.

A thousand homes have been destroyed. Two people lost their lives from the Altadena fires.

Instead of showing sympathy for the thousands of victims, right wing conspiracy theorists on twitter are blaming the fires on LA Fire Chief, who is a lesbian, while Trump is blaming CA Governor Gavin Newsom for not removing water from a delta that would have endangered a native species.

Not climate change. Not the Resnicks, a billionaire couple who took control of California's water supply and now use over 150 billion gallons every year for their companies.

If you're in Southern California, please download the Watch Duty app. It brings up to date information on the fires along with evacuation zones. If officials tell you to evacuate, you do it. Make sure you look up shelters and mutual aid organizations where you'll evacuate to. If you have to abandon your car, please move it to the side or leave your keys in the car so firefighters can move it out of the way.

The consequences of this disaster will be catastrophic. It's become increasingly clear that our government officials will not protect us as they would rather fill their own pockets. Stick together. Protect your community as best as you can.

Please keep Southern California in your thoughts. We're going to need them.

[chaotic-mystery]

Hotline to Heaven | Joel Miller x reader

✧ Summary: An inquisitive man gets more than what he's used to when he pushes the wrong number on a phone sex hotline.

✧ Content Warnings: MDNI ! 18+ only. dom!reader, sub!joel, pre outbreak, empty house means he's up to no good, porn connoisseur, phone sex, dirty talk ( i mean duh) mutual masturbation, swearing, orgasm denial, safeword mentioned but not used, talking him through it this time, a little aftercare, slight mention of one of my favorite movies bc I know Joel would've liked it too.

✧ Authors Note: This is my submission for @wannab-urs DMAMC 2025 that you can find the masterlist here. A goal of mine this year is to step out of my writing bubble when it comes to challenges and write things I normally wouldn't on my own. If you read my work, you know this is a roles reversed situation for me and I'm nervous to share it but also excited! Thank you, Gin, for letting me be a part of this, I love you <3 As always big ups to my twin for beta reading for me, love you, Ali.

red line divider | cover and matching dividers made by (Ali) & I |

✧ WC: 2.4K | masterlist | requests | update blog | ✧

Being a single dad was not an easy job, but Joel made it work somehow. With lots and lots of pancakes and promised sleepovers at friends houses if Sarah kept her grades up. 

Another Friday night at home alone while Sarah was in the next town over, probably hopped up on soda and candy, Joel digs out his laptop from the bag on the floor and sets it up on the cherrywood coffee table. The house was quiet for the most part, the low humming of the dryer down the hallway in the laundry room. 

Booting up the old computer, Joel tilts his head back on the sofa and makes sure his brown curtains are closed along with the white blinds he just put up a few weeks ago. Joel's finger moves against the worn trackpad, opening up the DVD rom to pop in the movie he rented from blockbuster on his drive home from dropping off Sarah. 

Joel reads the cover while it loads to open. His favorite actress being the main character got him all excited and may have been the only reason he rented it to begin with. It definitely wasn’t because she was playing a vampire in a latex bodysuit.

About halfway through the movie and many scenes later of this character being an absolute badass, Joel could feel the growing tension in his jeans. Wanting to take care of the problem to finish the movie he'd grown invested in, he pauses it and opens up a web browser and goes to his tried and true adult website. The amount of pop up ads always annoyed him, he just wanted to find something to watch and keep it moving. 

Until tonight. 

A banner flashes right above the search bar filled with his previous endeavors, the colors immediately catching his eyes. 

“What the hell is this?” He mutters to himself as he watches the words change. 

A number pops up with tiny images of girls in the corner of the banner. Feeling adventurous, he digs out his phone from his pocket and dials the number before it changes to a new ad. 

He’s met with an automated message, overly seductive and giving him the rundown of what he’s getting himself into. His finger hovers over the pound button to confirm he was consenting to this, that he was willing to continue. The line beeps a few times before a new message starts to play. 

”Press one if you want to meet me, the girl next door.” 

The voice changes to a new girl, “press two if you want to fix my leaky pipes.” 

Another different voice, “press three if you want to punish me for not turning in my college essay.”

”Press four to meet me and my best friend, Layla.”

”Hit five if you wanna romp in the hay with me, yeehaw!”

Joel snickers at the generic attempt at a southern accent. 

“Call me into your office by pressing six!”

Joel could hardly contain himself at all the options he was given, and he had three more he’d yet to hear. 

“Select seven to meet me, Vixen the d-“ 

Before the voice finished speaking, his finger pushed a button and he wasn’t sure which one he chose. Frankly, he was excited for any of them.

Your line was ringing and it wasn’t too often it did, no one usually got past Katie and Layla. 

Picking up the phone, you smile when you hear the southern drawl in his words. 

“Have you been a bad boy today?” You almost whisper into the phone before he responds. 

“Y-yes, I have, darlin.” His tone was a little confused, unsure of what he just answered.

You grin and sit up straighter. 

“Well, good thing I’m in the mood to punish you.”

Joel’s eyes widen and he doesn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the number he meant to push. He wasn’t really the type of man to want to be told what to do.

From anyone. 

“Darlin’ can you tell me which button I pushed by chance?”

He was trying to be as polite as he could and you were going to have some fun with this. 

“You pushed seven and here I am; Vixen the Dom.” Smirking at the quiet line, you wonder for a split second if he hung up.

“I-I’m sorry…dom? I don’t know if this is really something I’m into. I mean, that’s great if you’re someone who can but that doesn’t sound like me.”

“I get it. You can’t let go of that control, scared to see a new side to yourself. I understand. If you want to hang up and redial I understand.”

Joel hesitates hanging up and he glides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“What exactly…would I be getting myself into with you, Vixen?”

What a curious man. 

“You’d give me control, no backtalk, no resisting, you submit to me. There’s a safeword we can use at any point if it gets to be too much for you. At that point I’d stop and we can calm down, just talk. I never get mad at someone using a safe word.”

“A-and what’s the safe word?” The temptation in his voice shows you he’s interested. 

“Hopscotch.” 

His chuckle rings through your ear and makes your face warm, giggling at his reaction. 

“So, you’ve stayed here this long and I can tell you’re curious. Are you going to let me take control of you, I didn’t get your name” You state, trying to guess before he answers.

“Joel. Names Joel. It’s a pleasure to spend the night with you tonight, Vixen.” 

The respect he was giving already showed you how natural it came to him, he was this way in his day to day life. 

“You’re going to be my good boy tonight, Joel?” 

“Y-yes” he hesitantly responds. 

“Yes, ma’am. Repeat it.” Goosebumps raise on your arms and the excitement shakes your core

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to tell you what to think, what to say, I’m going to do everything I want to you until you’re begging me to let you come.” You bite your lip and smirk, your body excited for this phone call. 

“I want you to close your eyes and I want you to grab your bulge and rub it, slowly for me,” You say sternly but seductively, propping your legs up so your knees are bent, freehand resting on your abdomen.

You can hear his belt jingle and some shuffling from the other end of the phone, causing you to smirk. He doesn’t get it, it’s new for him. It was painfully obvious but you decided to take it slow for his first time. 

“I didn’t say to undo your belt and ditch your pants, did I? I said rub your bulge, just rub it.”

“Y-yes ma’am.” His breath was shaky from anticipation and nerves, it was cute. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into with you.

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Tell me what you want,” you tease, your fingers dancing above your panty line. 

“I wish you were here right now. Tell me to lay on my back while you get on top and ride my face until I'm begging for air. I want you to use me until you come all over my face and make me clean you up before you ride my big dick. Use me, Ms. Vixen, p-please.” Joel’s whimpers make you feel that boiling heat in your stomach before you feel your panties get wet, for a half second he takes your breath away.

“Ms.Vixen? Hm, you’re learning quickly I see. Reach in your pants and take your cock out for me, get it nice and wet. I want to hear how needy you are for me.”

You hear his belt unbuckle followed by the soft sound of him spitting into his hand, married with a groan of pleasure. 

“Now, you want to be my good boy tonight, right?” You ask and dip your hand inside your panties, softly teasing yourself. This was so unlike you, normally you didn’t want to touch yourself during a call. He was different. 

”You aren’t going to come until I tell you, alright? Think you can handle that, baby?” 

“I can handle that, yes ma’am.”

Hearing the wet sounds from him jerking his cock off makes you grin and a moan almost slips out but you catch yourself and give a small giggle. 

”It’s cute the way you fuck your hand and pretend its my pussy, big grown man just aching to be put in his place. I want to watch your face when I slip your cock inside me, baby. I’ll keep a fistful of your hair so you keep your eyes on me, let me watch you go to another planet when you realize how deep you are.”

Joel moans loudly and he can’t catch his breath as he imagines how good it would feel inside you and to be used by you. 

“Y-yes please, Vixen. Ride my cock and make yourself feel good, I can be whatever you want me to be.”

You circle your clit faster as your legs tremble, your moans swirling together to sound like a beautiful harmony. 

“I can ride you and wrap my hand around your throat while I put my panties in your mouth to keep you quiet, wouldn’t want anyone to hear those pretty whimpers, now would we?”

“Can-can you tell me what your panties look like, darlin’? Please.” Joel stutters out and moans just thinking about it.

Biting your lip, you hold the handset closer to your mouth as you continue fingering your soaked cunt with your other hand.

“They’re lace, black of course. With a little red bow right in front of the waistband. Sick little pervert you are. Makes my pussy so wet thinking about you trying to moan my name but I can’t understand you with them in your mouth. Even when you’re begging for more, begging to come I can’t hear you.”

Joel groans louder and all you can see in your head as your eyes are squeezed shut is how handsome he sounds Just the pretty whimpers he makes has you thinking how good looking he must be, how his dick is so slippery in his fist from all the precum and spit. 

“I bet you’d lose your mind if I pinned your hands down and really took all control from you, wouldn’t you baby? You’d squirm and try to touch me but you can’t, not while I’m playing with you like a toy. You’re my toy, do you hear me? Mine. Say you’re mine while you jerk off.” Your breaths get shorter as you moan softly, finally letting him hear how turned on you are. 

“I’m just your playtoy, Ms.Vixen. Onl-ly yours. I p-promise. Fuck it feels so good, shit.” 

The silk sheets under your skin slide under you as you squirm, giving into him a little more with each beg he cries out. This feels like heaven and you can’t get enough of him. Part of you wanted to stop touching yourself to keep him on the phone longer, partially because you didn’t know if he’d ever call again. 

“Let go of your pretty cock. Don’t touch it and listen to me.” You demand calmly and smirk when you hear him groan in annoyance.

“Is that an attitude I hear?” you ask condescendingly. 

“No ma’am, no ma’am.” he quickly retorts. Good boy. 

“I’ve got two fingers inside me right now but they just don’t compare to your cock I bet. You’d probably keep me up all night and let me turn you every which way but loose, hm? Think you could keep up with me, sweetheart? How about I cuff your hands to the bed and suck your cock until you can’t take it anymore and beg to paint my face with your cum.”

You can hear a slew of profanities and Joel groans almost in pain and he whines, “God dammit that’s so hot. Please let me jerk off, baby. It’s killing me not to touch myself while I think about stuffing you full of my dick. Your perfect body on mine, what a pleasure that would be. Please, may I touch myself?”

Clamping your legs closed so you don’t come yourself, you tell him to continue and soon once more your moans mix together. 

“I-I need to come, Ms.Vixen. Please let me be a goodboy and come, p-please-oh fuckkk-”

“You want to come for me, baby boy? I’m going to have to think about whether you deserve it or not, sweetheart.” 

“Let me show you how good you make me feel, I need you so bad. C’mon baby-oh shittt- please?”

Your breath hitches in your throat and you have this aching urge to hear him come and whimper in your ear. Hearing men be so whiny when they come was music to your ears. 

“Go on then, show me the pretty sounds you make when you come, baby. Jerk that fuckin’ cock off while you think about me. Think about coming on my tits, these pretty fucking titties that would look even better with your cock between them. C’mon honey, come for me, right now. Be my favorite toy.”

That was all he needed to hear before he was groaning loudly into the phone, enough to make you cover your mouth and come with him. Couldn’t let him know how down bad he already had you. 

Your ears were ringing slightly but you could still hear the shuffling from his end, probably cleaning himself up and the mess he made. 

“You alright over there, big guy?” You ask, trying to calm your breathing. 

“It was a lot, let’s just say I made a mess” he chuckles and sighs tiredly.

“How was that for your first time being a sub? I tried to take it slow for you.” 

“That was uh, that was the best time I’ve had in a while. You really know what you’re doing, huh? I’d love to call you again, maybe your direct line next time?” 

You shake your head and chuckle at him. Silly boy. 

“I had a fun time tonight, Joel. Maybe if you call me again I’ll think about giving you my phone number.”

“Fair enough. Thank you, Vixen. It was a pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night, my good boy.” 

The line goes silent and Joel puts his cellphone down on the couch cushion beside him, taking a deep breath as he circles back over everything he just did. Closing out of the tab and continuing his movie, he enjoyed it but Joel couldn’t stop thinking about you the rest of the night. 

Even when he was in his bed trying to sleep, you consumed his brain and he needed more. 

A lot more, but of course, only if you let him. 

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 10

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + EDGING? + ROPE (VINE) PLAY + SLIGHT DEGRADATION? VERY MINIMAL

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It took you a few days to realise it, but when you finally did it hit you right in the chest. You are restless without Rio. Agatha has been there for you, holding you, coaxing you through your desires, teaching you lesson after lesson, but something is missing. And after the third night of terrible sleep, you realise you miss Rio.

“When will she be back?” you ask Agatha for the fifth time in the last two days, pouting when she sighs dismissively, “Agatha,” you whine out her name, drawing the syllables out, “When?”

The blue-eyed witch turns to you with a frown, revealing the heavy bags under her eyes that match your own. “Her job is complicated, sweetheart. We can never be sure how long she is needed for. You must be patient, and understand–”

You groan audibly and shut your eyes tight, interrupting Agatha. “Maybe I would understand if you would just tell me what it is she–”

“Did you just interrupt me?” Agatha scolds, her eyes squinting in warning. But you’ve received plenty warning from her about this, far too many for her to simply let it go.

“I’m sorry,” you start, attempting to plead your case, but Agatha cuts you off with a snarl and a typically gentle hand to your throat. It’s rough, the touch shocking you as she shoves you against the bedroom door. You’ve been spending the nights in their bedroom with Agatha, and think perhaps Rio’s lingering scent has made you miss her even more. You can even smell her on Agatha when you bury your face in her neck before going to bed.

“Sorry?” Agatha mocks, scoffing as she pushes her body flush against yours, her fingers tightening their hold on the sides of your neck. You whimper in submission, trying to tilt your head back but she keeps you still, her intense gaze still locked to your sorry eyes.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologise again, Agatha’s lips are roughly pressed to yours. Her invading tongue pushes through right away, establishing her dominance as you whimper into her touch, melting as she slides her tongue against yours, claiming you over and over again. But before you can start roaming your hands over her body, she abruptly pulls back leaving you hazed and confused.

“What?” you mumble, blinking your eyes open with a frown.

Agatha’s expression is one of controlled anger with the tiniest hint of satisfaction as she glances over your blushed cheeks, pouty lips, beaked buds through your thin gown.

“Why did you stop?” you moan in complaint, reaching out to grab at her but Agatha takes a step away from you in defiance; your frown deepens as you pout, begging for her to touch you.

The wicked witch smirks as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Naughty girls deserve to be punished,” Agatha says simply, walking away before you can protest. You’re left with your mouth hung open, equally shocked and turned on. Is this your punishment? Because you would much rather be spanked than have your desires ignored.

“Wait, please–”

Agatha cackles as she continues walking to the little washroom attached to the bedroom. “Begging will not work, sweetheart. You need to learn your lesson. Now, go tend to the garden, and wash yourself up afterwards. We’ll be headed to the Inn this evening.”

The Inn. Your Inn. With Catherine, the innkeeper’s daughter who very clearly provoked a certain type of reaction from Agatha and Rio the last time you were seen with her.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you ask timidly, turning your head away from Agatha’s intense glare as she spins back. You take that as your answer and nod, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you with a soft thud.

Well, fuck.

Perhaps it wasn’t your best decision, but since Agatha refuses to touch you the best you could think of was making that task as hard as possible for her. Perhaps she’ll break, or it’ll only anger her further. You’ve come to learn that an angry Agatha is either the best or worse outcome; it’s the worst when the anger turns into yelling, tears, and a deeply painful feeling in your chest, but it’s the best when it turns into smirks, rough hands and angry kisses all over your skin.

Picking out the best dress possible was easy enough since you only have a few anyway. The cut of the top half is enticing enough without the undergarments you opted for, the special kind that pushes your breasts up as high as possible. Your corset is dark, black, intricately laced and worn over your dress as a statement; that statement is clear enough to Agatha it seems, her eyes darkening the moment you step out of your bedroom to show her just how ready you are to go.

“Is it time already?” you ask innocently, your tone teasing and playful. The smile you flash at her is knowing as she cannot keep her eyes away from your chest. She’ll look up at you trying to hold your gaze but those poor blues inevitably bounce back down. Part of you thinks (hopes) Agatha will decide right here and now to skip out on the Inn and devour you right here in the hallway, but instead she gathers her composure and straightens her back.

“If you think I will give in to these childish games, you do not know me well enough.”

You lift a brow as she brushes past you, faltering in her step when she’s close enough to get a whiff of your scent. Her head snaps to you, suddenly gripping you by the neck to pull you closer. A gasp is ripped from your throat as her nose presses against your skin.

“Is this…”

Rio’s perfume. It’s a special mix she makes just for herself, a brand, a unique blend that is distinctly her. Agatha growls at the realisation that you must have snuck back into the room while she was napping earlier and taken Rio’s perfume from the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sorry…Was that not permitted?”

Her jaw tightens at the faux innocence in your tone. Before she can stop herself, she leans in and sinks her teeth into your skin, giving you no warm up whatsoever. You gasp, hands immediately skying up to grip at her free hair. Every time she has her hair down like this, you cannot help but obsess over it. It’s so soft, so pretty, so wild and free and so Agatha.

“Whose attention are you trying to get tonight?” Agatha growls against your neck, sucking, biting, her hot tongue swiping over the wound.

“Yours,” you gasp, arching your body closer to her, “Always yours.”

Though she may not believe you completely, she still pulls back satisfied with your answer, and the bright smirk on her face as her eyes lock onto the mark she has left lets you know she’s satisfied with how she’s branded you. Your stomach drops, twisting uncomfortably with the thought of Catherine seeing the mark and understanding the insinuation.

Agatha senses your discomfort and it only fuels her excitement for tonight. The two of you are out the door before you can protest further.

The sound of lively music and laughter can be heard from far out. It seems the Inn is busy tonight, or the people are louder. Whatever the reason is, you still hear it as you see it in the distance, Agatha’s hold tightening around your linked arms as you approach. It’s a innocent enough touch, but one that you two share the secret of. It’s exciting, you think, the sinking feeling in your stomach turning into something else close to desire. To sit by her, have her hand trailing up and down your thigh under the table for no one to see but for you to feel…

Just the thought has you clearing that ball forming in your throat, catching Agatha’s knowing smirk shot your way. She wraps her arm around yours tighter, pressing her side to yours as you reach the door.

“Best behaviour,” Agatha warns teasingly, nipping at your ear discreetly before pushing the door open, letting everyone see the bright blush on your cheeks. The loud roar of joint singing hits you as the door opens; along with the sounds of boots hitting the ground, fists slamming against tables, and the men playing their fiddles in the back, it’s almost overwhelming. But it’s been some time since you’ve last been here, been around people in general other than Agatha and Rio, so you allow yourself a moment of adjustment. Agatha stays firm beside you, grounding, supportive, guiding.

You’re too distracted, watching over both the familiar and new faces in the crowd. The same group of gossiping grey women are sat in their corner, their typical scowls taken over by cheerful smiles as they join the crowd in their joyous singing. The main singing man is the same as he always is, immediately grinning widely when his eyes catch yours. He sings and sings and sings, stomping on the table as he does so, tipping his hat to you in the middle of his dance.

“There is a tavern in the town, in the town, and there my true love sits him down, sits him down, and drinks his wine as merry as can be, and never, never thinks of me!”

You begin to clap along with them, a soft smile on your lips as you reminisce. Despite you needing to hide yourself and look over your shoulder all the time, it was still a unique, warm feeling to be part of this community. You were still yourself, only showing them the parts that were safe enough to reveal.

“Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, do not let this parting grieve thee, and remember that the best of friends, must part, must part.”

Agatha’s hand is back, her touch warm and firm against your lower back. She passes you a pint, a half-smirk on her lips as she observes your freeing expression. Her reappearance is a reminder of what you left for. A soft warmth takes over your insides, making it incredibly hard not to lay a gentle kiss over her lips at this exact moment. She’s well aware of your struggle, finding it just as difficult; you can tell by the way her eyes go hooded, zoning into your pink, plump lips.

“Adieu, adieu kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu, I can no longer stay with you, stay with you, I will hang my harp on the weeping willow tree, and may the world go well with thee.”

Those eyes look even brighter with the candlelight here, those blues tinted a soft orange as they glitter and glow at you. You can’t help but reach to hold her hand in yours, squeezing once, twice, pulling away when it crosses over to inappropriate.

The two of you make your way to a table near the back, badly lit so dark enough for no one to really want to be seated there. Agatha sits across from you, both your dresses long and puffed enough to prevent anyone from seeing her sneaky antics. She slowly lifts her leg, the one closer to the wall and hidden behind her other, and slides her foot under your dress. 

You only realise what she’s doing when you feel her warm foot brush against your ankle; the sip of alcohol you were drinking catches in your throat. “Agatha,” you gasp quietly, terrified of what others may say if they catch you.

The wicked witch grins at you slyly, hiding her smile behind her own pint. “What?” she says, feigning innocence with a dramatic hand to her chest. But you cannot be fooled, not when her foot trails even higher, wrapping around your calf.

“We cannot. Not here, not where Cath–” you cut your own sentence short, cheeks tinting at the mix-up. Agatha’s touch is immediately gone, the humoured expression now taken over by a quiet discomfort. Before she spirals, you try to interrupt her thoughts, “Agatha, I simply meant that she may recognise you and make certain…assumptions. Your anger was very palpable that night. Surely you understand why I am feeling a little…”

“What?” Agatha scowls, “Protective? Why must you care what she feels? Let her assume, because her assumptions are the truth, are they not?”

A frown takes over your face as you take in her words. You’re unsure why she’s this angry about it. Surely keeping your secret is important, no? Especially considering Agatha’s past, discarded and thrown aside for being different. She should understand where you’re coming from…but below the anger, you see a hint of something else, something vulnerable that looks dangerously close to insecurity.

“If what she assumes is that I lo–”

“Y/N?”

Both your heads snap to the sound of your name, landing on Catherine, stood with wide, green eyes, a beautifully intricate beige and pink dress flowing to her ankles, and her blonde curls tight just below her shoulders. Agatha surprisingly contains herself, offering Catherine a thin, forced smile; you figured she’d jump up over the table with a growl.

“Y/N, oh, God, how are you? Where have you been?” Catherine rushes over to the table, her heels clacking against the floorboards. Instinctively, you stand up and let her hug you, wrapping your arms around her when she falls forward a little, tripping over the edge of your chair.

“Catherine,” you mumble with a soft laugh, “It’s good to see you,” pulling away from the hug doesn’t seem to work as you attempt to put a little distance. Catherine simply pulls you back closer, so close her nose is just an inch or so away from pressing to yours.

“I have missed you,” she says in a whisper, eyes hooded as she stares into your own, “Dearly,” she adds, her voice turning dark, deep, a clear attempt at a rasp.

The clearing of a throat pulls her attention away. While your head turns to Agatha expecting the sound to have come from her, Catherine’s turns the other way. When your eyes meet Agatha’s blues, there’s a humoured glimmer in them. She lifts a brow, pointedly looking over your shoulder and you have a feeling you’re about to be in deep trouble.

Slowly, you look over to the other side, gasping softly when your eyes land on Rio, stood with a deep glare over her face, a clenched jaw so dangerously sharp, eyes that could kill with a blink. Her black dress is scandalous to be wearing in public, tight around her curves which you can only see because she’s kept her oversized green cloak open at the front.

“Rio,” you whisper, immediately pulling away from Catherine to jump forward. Once the shock dissipates, all that is left is pure want, your heart yearning to be as close to her now that she’s back.

She has no time to react as you fall into her, arms wrapping around her neck; hers dangle for a moment awkwardly before sinking around your curves, pulling you in possessively tight. You can hear her breath hitching as her face presses into your neck, sniffing deeply; her hands grip your waist tight as she recognises her own scent on you, softly growling into your neck.

She’s so impossibly cold but you don’t care. Her touch is what you’ve been needing for so long, her scent, her presence, so comforting and protective. The way she holds you tight against her as if you belong to her, like she’s missed you and ached for something as simple as a hug, needing you just as badly as you need her. You forget yourself for that moment, falling into her safe arms and melting as she buries her face in your neck and refuses to leave it.

But suddenly, Catherine is laughing awkwardly, forcing the two of you to let go for a moment. It breaks you out of your Rio-bubble for a moment, panic filling your stomach at the closeness Catherine just saw. It seems to have broken Rio out of her Y/N-bubble too, her anger back as she stiffens against you, effectively pulling away until you’re no longer touching.

“New friends?” Catherine asks with a confused half-smile.

It definitely isn’t your best move, but you can’t think of anything but run and decide to pull Catherine away from the two angry witches. “Why don’t I buy you drink? Catch me up on how the Inn has been!”

Minutes later, you realise it was possibly the worst decision you could have made in that moment. Catherine started, and would not stop. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem; that was Rio across the Inn with the deepest of glares to begin with, but that since then has shifted into something you cannot decipher. It’s blank, dark, but she’s refusing to look at anything but you. Agatha’s hand is glued to Rio’s, running a thumb back and forth to soothe her, but it doesn’t do much to calm the bouncing of her knee as she watches Catherine continue to flirt with you.

Perhaps you should go back? The way you’re laughing back dangerously looks like flirting too, especially when she gets closer and closer to you, her hand touching your own, brushing over your bicep, tucking your stray hair behind your ear. And you do nothing to stop it. Part of you starts to enjoy it, though you will never admit that to the two witches across the Inn. You enjoy Catherine’s friendship, and there is no harm in her flirting; it feels good to be wanted. But within minutes you find yourself wanting nothing but Rio, Agatha, your little cabin away from the chaos that comes with this Inn.

It’s more than chaos, but fear. Of not fitting in, of revealing too much of your past, of the lack of acceptance. Agatha and Rio have given you that and more, all you could have ever wanted. Finally coming to a decision, you clear your throat, interrupting Catherine’s story.

“I should head back to my…friends.” 

Catherine frowns, turning to glance over her shoulder to them. “They look awfully familiar…”

“Oh, you must have been drinking too much to remember. I met them here, they sit in that corner all the time!” you laugh nervously, hoping the lie works.

Catherine remains suspicious but drops it when she realises she has bigger problems, one being you disappearing on her again. “Have you been staying elsewhere? Or working? Somewhere far away? I really do miss you, Y/N…There’s so much I think about, so much I would like to say to you but I feel…I feel it may be inappropriate and almost futile to do so if you will not be around.”

“Y/N,” Rio’s raspy voice is easily recognisable to you, suddenly appearing by your side, “We must go,” she says with finality, her tone making it crystal clear that it’s an order, not a suggestion.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced,” Catherine shoots Rio a bright, beautiful smile, as if she is trying to crack the hard interior being thrown her way, “My name is Cath–”

“And we will not be introduced. Y/N.”

Shooting up out of your seat, you give a confused and offended Catherine an apologetic smile, promising to see her soon. You try to follow Rio out, opting out of a hug, but Catherine practically forces you into one, whispering a soft ‘be careful’, clearly interpreting Rio’s abrupt nature as a danger. You can’t help but laugh.

By the time you step out of the Inn, Rio’s already a walk ahead so you practically run to her. “Rio! Rio, wait, is Agatha not–”

“She’s staying for another drink or so,” Rio answers bluntly, not turning back to look at you as she marches in anger.

A frown forms on your lips and you stop, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. “Why are you being this way?” you complain, yelling out as she’s still ahead of you. 

That seems to catch Rio’s attention; she slows before coming to a stop. “Why?” Rio repeats, the anger shaking her voice as she turns to face you, “I have been gone, and it has been excruciating being away from Agatha, and you,” she says, emphasising you, “And I am finally able to come back. Just to track the two of you, and find you draping yourself over some other woman. In front of Agatha, nonetheless.”

You gulp as she steps closer to you, finally coming to a stop right in front of you. She’s not much taller than you, but it feels like she’s towering of you in this moment as she glares deeply, trying to mask her hurt with anger.

“Not only have you been disrespectful to me, but to Agatha, too. And on the very day you were being punished for whining like a child? My, you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Her harsh words feel like a slap across the face. Rio’s been angry, distant, but cruel is not a word you’d use to describe her. Before you can even open your mouth to apologise, you’re transported back to the cabin in a cloud of green smoke. Stumbling as you try and gather yourself, your arm ends up gripping her bicep. Rio can’t help but pull you closer at that, lifting you into her arms and pressing you up against her bedroom door. Before she kisses you, she pauses a moment, breathing in your gasps and soft breaths, eyes so beautifully brown, wide and intense.

“I wish I did not have to punish you this moment,” Rio mumbles, sighing as she memorises every crease in your forehead, the curve of your nose, the plump shape of your lips, “I have missed you dearly, my sweet…” Rio’s voice turns soft for a moment before she growls, “If only you missed me so.”

Her lips crash against yours, claiming, possessive, and rough; she sucks at your bottom lip roughly before nipping at it in soft punishment, groaning as you whimper against her. She allows you only a few seconds of roaming hands, nails scratching along her back through her cloak, but before you can go any further your hands are pulled back, a rough material wrapping around them in seconds.

“What is that?” you mumble as Rio pulls away from your lips for a moment, satisfied as she observes your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes.

“No touching,” Rio commands simply, tugging at the contraption holding your hands together, “It’s about time you’re introduced to my vines,” she chuckles playfully, trailing softer kisses down your neck as you sigh and turn your head to the side. Rio’s pleased with your obedience, immediately marking your new skin with her teeth, tongue, lips that suck and kiss tenderly.

“I did,” you gasp out, arching your body towards her when you tug against your restraints aimlessly.

“Did what?” Rio whispers against your neck, licking up to the spot just behind your ear. She sucks harshly, coaxing a choked moan out of you, smirking against your skin as she does so.

You struggle to keep hold of your composure, the ache between your legs growing by the second, but you manage to push you, “Miss you. I did miss you, Rio.”

She falters in her kisses, her grip on your waist loosening for a moment of weakness. “And here I was,” she chuckles, “thinking you liked Agatha more than me,” she jokes, but you can hear the vulnerability and insecurity she’s attempting to mask. 

With a frown, you brush your nose against her cheek, trying to get her attention. It takes a few frustrated attempts but she finally pulls back to look into your eyes with a sigh, and a tight jaw. “Why would you think that?”

Rio mumbles incoherently, choosing to ignore your question and silence you with a rough kiss. Her tongue slides against your bottom lip before slithering through, brushing over your teeth, tongue, the roof of your mouth as if claiming her territory. You let her do so, finding this to be a comfort to her; if she’ll ignore your words, you’ll let her take you as she pleases until there is not a single flash of uncertainty left in those beautiful brown eyes.

All you can do is submit to her touch. She yanks at the restraints, tugging you forward to follow her to the bed. But instead of sitting you down on it, she pushes at your shoulders until your knees hit the ground. Looking up at her with parted lips, you take in just how ethereal she is. Her brown locks look untamed, frizzy and almost as wild as those eyes. She almost looks feral, but still controlled as her eyes follow the movement of your neck as you gulp.

“You missed me?” Rio asks softly, her hand reaching to gently hold your jaw.

Sighing and leaning into her touch, you blink softly. “I did.”

Rio shoots you a small, satisfied smile before it turns dark, her jaw clenching and hand sliding down to your neck. “Then show me.”

You’re well aware that your hands are tied, but the look of desire Rio shoots down has you tugging, desperate to pull at her thighs until your face is pressed exactly where she wants it. With a chuckle and flick of her fingers, her clothing falls off her body, pooling at her ankles. Seeing her now, entirely naked, all smooth, tanned skin…God, you don’t know how you haven’t collapsed yet. Forgetting to take a breath causes you to get a little lightheaded but Rio’s hand is right there to keep you upright.

She leans down, her concerned but humoured eyes meeting yours. “Should I take that as a good sign?” Rio teases, her thumb brushing over your cheek.

Without uttering a word back, you slide your face against her hand until her thumb’s pressed against your lips. Rio’s eyes turn a shade darker, hooded as you flick a tongue out, teasing her for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip of her tongue. And then you suck, hard, cheeks hollowed, and Rio can’t control the gasp that escapes, can’t control the way her teeth clench together, the wetness gathering between her legs and coating her inner thighs.

With a growl that almost sounds close to a whine, she rises back up to her feet, hands gripping onto your locks tightly. The two of your move together, you moving your head forward while she pushes you closer until your tongue is sliding through her slick folds. You moan in unison at the first touch, Rio almost quivering with desperate want.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at that,” Rio’s praises shoot right down to your core; your thighs press together, desperate for the tiniest spark of friction. Tugging at your restraints doesn’t work again as you feel the urge to grip at her thighs and pull her closer. Rio does the work instead, using your mouth for her pleasure.

Her nails scratch along your scalp as she rolls her lips languidly, trying to savour the moment, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. The way she looks down with her lips parted practically panting like she’s in heat drives you to insanity. Eager to please, you swirl your tongue around her entrance, teasing it before sliding in with ease.

“Yes, just like that,” Rio hisses at the feeling, staggering for a moment before grinding down harder, wanting more of you inside her. It takes another minute of your tongue expertly twisting and swirling inside her before a disgruntled whimper escapes her, and within seconds she’s twisted around, pushing your head against the edge of the bed to let it down.

“Please,” you pant out the moment your tongue slips out of her, licking your lips for more of her sweet taste, “I want to make you–”

Rio cuts you off by pushing her lips against you again, letting you drown in her with desperate, muffled moans. She lets out the same as she grinds her clit over your tongue hard, fast, her rhythm faltering.

“Yes, fuck, Y/N,” she moans your name, throwing her head back as she practically mounts your face smothering you between her thighs, “So good for me,” she pants, “So pretty,” she gasps, her head bouncing back to look you in the eyes as she reaches her climax. It’s that, seeing that desperate, eager-to-please look, the clear submission, hands tied but tongue obedient to her. That’s what pushes her over the edge.

She whines as she comes, hips twitching, so close your nose is buried in her. Wanting to see just how far you can push her, you suddenly wrap your lips around her clit, sucking while flicking your tongue. It forces a high-pitched scream from her throat, desperate, croaky, so incredibly sexy you feel your own heat throbbing in response. God, you could come just from this, you’re sure of it, whimpering and whining around her clit as you pulse, empty and desperate to be filled.

Once Rio pulls herself back, you lick at your lips again, panting up at her with lust-filled feral eyes. She groans at the intense gaze you give her, clearly taken by you; she can barely contain herself, forgetting you’re meant to be punished for your behaviour as she drops down to lick herself off your face. Her tongue slides over your skin, your chin, neck, wherever she finds herself before slipping past your lips.

You moan into the kiss, letting her set a languid pace as your tongues dance together softly. “Please,” you beg, whispering against her lips as she pulls back for a moment, but she ignores you, kissing you again and again until you’re whining, trying to grind up into nothing, “Rio, please.”

She chuckles wickedly, biting on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but the pain is gone just as fast as her tongue swipes against it. You’re confused for a moment on how she’s done that, but you’re too distracted to ask, your desire ever-present in a messy, heated pulse between your legs.

“Are you forgetting this is a punishment?” her hand slides up your chest, pinching your nipples through your dress, “This is quite the outfit,” she mumbles hungrily, watching your breasts push up as you heave, “Were you trying to impress that whore?”

“No!” you immediately protest, shaking your head vigorously, “I swear it, I was only attempting to frust–” you cut your own words off, realising you’ve fallen into a trap. Rio grins in satisfaction, tipping your head up with a finger to your chin.

“Frustrate…Agatha?”

There’s a silence as you refuse to answer, terrified of the repercussions. But you’re already in them, already experiencing them. It seems Rio is being creative with her punishment tonight, choosing to ignore your desires completely knowing it would drive you to the very brink of losing your composure.

Rio rises to her feet, your face directly in front of her glistening heat again. But this time she swirls her fingers, controlling the vines. More of them manifest, this time gripping your ankles too, and separating your wrists; you’re pulled up the bed until you’re spread across for her. With another snap of her fingers, your clothes suddenly disappear, but she leaves the tight black corset over your stomach just for her satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful…” Rio says with wonder, running her slender, cold fingers over your legs, thighs, purposely ignoring the obvious mess between them, “Something as beautiful as this deserves to be worshipped…too bad you won’t be touched tonight.”

A pout springs and tears immediately fill up in your eyes. Surely she must be teasing? Just a threat to make sure you behave? “I’ll be good, I promise, please,” you plead, your voice quivering in fear.

Rio falters for a moment before her hard gaze steadies again. Her touch is cold, dangerously so, but you crave it so, pulsing with need; within seconds she’s left you, walking into small washroom attached to their bedroom. Rio ignores your pleas, your desperate cries for her to come back. As much as it pains her, you must be punished for your bratty behaviour.

By the time she comes back, you’ve quieted down to soft whimpers, the pout still painted on your swollen lips. You perk up when you see her, trying to lift your neck to see what she’s hiding behind her back.

“It seems you have forgotten who you belong to,” Rio rasps, “And that as much as you are ours…we are also yours.”

Her words hit hard, harder than you expected them to. There’s nothing to do but watch her in adoration, wanting to voice your own feelings too but finding your throat too dry to speak those words. Rio hums as she observes but then reveals what she’s holding behind her back. You immediately tense up as your eyes lock onto the leather cock, made of a dark green material this time. It’s slightly thicker but shorter than the one she had used last time, but it makes you hungry for it nonetheless, desperate for the stretch.

But Rio shocks you this time as the vines let go of your ankles just for her to start sliding the harness up your legs. “Wait, what are you–”

“I told you, Y/N. You will not be touched tonight,” she says with finality, leaving no room for argument. Even as you open your mouth to protest, she stops you, climbing on top you and crawling like a cat until two of her fingers slip past your lips. Moaning at the filthy act, you swirl your tongue between her fingers, sucking gently, obediently, eyes locked to hers trying to entice her. But she doesn’t give in. Instead, she simply smirks at your pathetic desperation and rolls her hips over the fake cock between your legs.

Rio sighs softly at the first touch, letting it pass through her folds to slick it up. It doesn’t take much; not after your eager tongue and the long wait while she’s been gone. You gasp around her fingers, and she stutters, eyes locked to yours while lifting her hips up, using her other hand to adjust the cock. Rio sinks down, gasping at the filling sensation. It stretches her deliciously, and clearly it’s been a while for her given the slow, sensual pace.

“Fuck,” she curses softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours, fingers still buried in your mouth. You suck on them when you wake up from your haze, bringing her urgency back to life. She gasps again as she bounces down hard, so hard the lewd sound of your bodies meeting echoes in the room.

Rio pushes her fingers further in, forcing a gag out of you; the sound only excites her as she begins a slow but hard pace, sitting up until she’s nearly empty then slamming back down again with a loud groan. Though you’re turned on beyond belief, all you want to do at this moment is hold her, grip her waist, mouth at her breasts. You want to feel her, to guide her through her pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, muffled with her fingers still in your mouth. Rio continues to ignore you, too caught up in seeking her own pleasure. The wet sound of her pussy clamping around your cock is dizzying, paired with her enticing moans and you’re a goner, “Fuck, please, Rio,” you beg, but your pleas only urge her on more. 

She bounces down harder, grinding her hips against yours to seek friction over her clit, but she sees it’s not enough she risks taking her fingers out and giving you the ability to speak once again. Those same fingers, wet from your mouth, slide down to her clit right away as she sits up.

“You’re breathtaking,” you gasp, finally able to look down between her legs where you two meet. She’s practically shining, absolutely soaked; her slick coats both your thighs, sticking to the leather cock as it pistons through her over and over again, “Fuck, Rio, please, I want–”

Rio breaks your words with a loud moan, using her other hand to grope at her chest. “I already told you, sweetheart. You’re not getting touched tonight.”

You groan in frustration, hands turning into fists as you fail to contain your needs. “I don’t care, Rio, I just want to touch you!”

The witch falters on top of you, not expecting you to be that desperate for touching her. “You–” she stutters, moaning softly as a roll of her hips has the cock pressing up all her sensitive spots, “You want to touch me?” Rio asks again, her tone curious, surprised, eyes wide and analytical as she stares down at you.

The way she’s looking at you is almost hypnotic. “Please, let me, just let me hold you,” you whimper, tugging against the restraints again.

Rio leans down, her lips hovering over yours and pulling back when you reach up too close to kiss her. “Really?” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours as she wraps herself around you, “You want to touch me, baby?”

A whimper escapes you. “Yes. Please, I need to touch you.”

Rio sucks in a harsh breath, gripping your jaw for a moment, just looking at you before pouncing down like a cat. Her lips attach to yours in a tender but controlling kiss, moaning into your mouth as you brush your tongue against hers. She begins slamming her hips down against you again, whining into the kiss. 

This time when you tug, you pull hard and the restraints fall with your wrists. Not wasting a second, you reach down and grip her waist finding her skin warm to the touch now. Rio leans into the touch, pressing her body down to yours as tight as possible.

“You feel so good, so warm,” you pant against her lips, nipping at her lower lip playfully as your hands slides to her backside. You indulge for a moment, squeezing to see her reaction; she groans, grinding her hips hard enough for the pressure to build up on your own clit, “Fuck, yes.”

Rio swallows your gasp, unable to keep her lips off yours. With your grip hard and secure, you help move her up and down, lifting your own hips up to meet her halfway. Your eagerness drives Rio crazy, warming her stomach with desire and adoration for you; she leans down whining against your lips, brushing over them every few seconds as you thrust into her.

“Wanna see you come,” you mumble incoherently, eyes wide with feral desire. All you have is one goal and that is to make her unravel before your eyes.

Rio groans possessively at that, sliding her tongue through your lips in a quick goodbye before she sits up again. She literally rips the corset still covering you, throwing it to the side. Her nails dig into your stomach as she holds for balance, keeping her hooded brown eyes locked to you. She’s close, you can tell by the faltering grinds, the moans bordering on whines, how her legs suddely weaken, allowing you to move her instead.

With quick movements, you let go of her backside and slide a hand between her legs. Your thumb presses at her clit, rubbing hard circles as she gasps, twitching on top of you. “Come for me,” you beg, “Please.”

“Say it,” Rio demands between gasps, hanging on by a thread.

You immediately know what she’s requesting and grip her hip tightly. “I’m yours, Rio.”

With your clear, certain words, Rio’s neck snaps back, body arching as she slams down onto your cock. You keep thrusting up, grinding into her and rubbing your thumb over her clit, watching with parted lips at the work of art on top of you. Her skin flushes as she reaches her high, red blooming over her chest, neck, those rosy cheeks.

You can’t help but lean up, ignoring the pain in your abdomen muscles at the stretch; you need your lips attached to her in some way. Your mouth finds her neck, sinking your teeth possessively; Rio’s hand curves around to the back of your neck to hold you tight against her, gasping, panting, barely able to utter a word, but her eagerness for you to stay is all the praise you need.

“Y/N, baby,” Rio moans, voice hoarse, hips twitching as your thumb decides to slow down and let her ride her way back down. Only when she tugs on your hair do you slide your thumb away, holding onto her ass instead to help her gently grind until she’s had enough.

Rio hums in satisfaction as she climbs off your lap, rolling until she’s lying by your side. She pulls you into her arms and you eagerly bury your face in her neck, letting her earthy scent melt over you. You refused to squirm despite the painful pulse of neglect between your thighs; you’re determined to take your punishment as is. Perhaps you’ll be rewarded tomorrow morning for it, or–

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your nest of hair, leaving a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you deserve a reward?” Rio asks, playfully nipping at your ear.

You can’t help but softly whimper at the teasing touch, already feeling her hand creeping up around your waist. “I deserve what you feel like giving.”

Perfect answer. You can tell from Rio’s wolf-like grin as she slithers down, leaving soft yet possessive kisses along your skin. She slows once she reaches your stomach, taking her time to mark you, claim you, making sure you have a reminder of who you belong to. The leather cock is long gone by now, thrown onto the floor as Rio undoes the harness with ease.

“Please,” you sigh, squirming up against her stomach, ensuring she can feel just how soaked you are for her. The warm slick pulls a groan from the depths of her throat. Rio scratches your sides on her way down until she reaches your thighs, tugging them over her shoulder. She takes no moment to observe, to tease, to lick the wetness around your inner thighs. No, Rio dives right in like a hungry wolf, unable to contain herself from slipping her tongue directly through to your inner walls.

You feel yourself immediately clamping down around her hot, expert tongue as she curls it, swirls, finding every spot to make you weak in her arms. You’ve been so worked up you’re already so close – which is likely why she’s avoided your throbbing clit. Letting her savour the moment, you arch your back and dig your fingers into her scalp, pushing her further into your wet core.

“God, I’m–Fuck, this is–” you stumble and stutter around, unable to form a coherent sentence, already seeing spots in your vision. The pleasure is searing, bordering painful from the edging, from her neglection, from the pressure of her pounding on top of you, “Rio, fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Rio hums against you in answer, the vibrations rushing straight through to your clit. It has you gasping, thighs tightening around her head. You’re worried for a moment on how she could possibly breathe down there but Rio simply growls hungrily, sliding her tongue out to lick through your slit, refusing to let a drop go to waste. 

Before you can protest, feeling so empty, Rio’s fingers replace her tongue, curling in deliciously hitting that spot that makes you see stars. She allows your thrown back head, allows you to groan and moan and thrust your hips up against her face, her fingers. Seeing you so free, taken with pleasure is an astonishing sight for her. 

“I wanna–Fuck, please, please make me come,” you moan out pathetically, your cheeks flushing in humiliation at how desperate you sound. But Rio lets out a sound, one that borders on painful and you glance down to look at her expression. She looks completely taken, her eyes blown wide, nothing but adoration and a deep desire in them. She looks just as desperate as you do when she flicks her tongue over your clit, sucking it into her mouth.

It’s that moment when she looks at you with darkened, powerful eyes that flash black, a colour you’ve never seen before in them. The fear mixed with the excitement of her power has you moaning like a whore, loud and high as you reach your climax. Rio’s right there to hold you through it, fucking her fingers through the wet tightness of your walls. 

She doesn’t stop, not until there are tears slipping down your cheeks as you push against her head. She marks her way back up again, leaving bright colours over your skin until she reaches your parted, panting lips. Rio doesn’t kiss you, just looks at you, looks through you. Her hand feels hot against your cheek, but it’s fleeting, as if you’re fragile and precious to her. 

The sound of footsteps catches your attention, forcing Rio to snap out of her hypnosis; she turns back to see Agatha standing by the door, leaning on the ledge with a smirk.

“Satisfied?”

Rio huffs in soft laughter, leaning back on the pillow with an arm stretched behind her head. “Very.”

Agatha hums, nodding as she steps forward. “Good,” the witch states, taking her time as she pulls the strings at the back of her dress, “It’s my turn. Let’s see if you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

masterlist + guidelines

[natalievoncatte]

Cait wouldn’t leave her alone.

Every way Vi turned, she was there, but never more than a moment. Vi would turn sharply and see Cait in her stolen clothes from their first jaunt into the Undercity. The costume that Vi had taken for her was one of a dozen attempts to get rid of the mousy, timid little burden that was getting in her way as she hunted for her sister, for answers, for Silco. For someone made of meat that would bruise and split under her knuckles until she could beat ten years of her life out of them, ten years in hell.

Once she saw her dancing, free, without the grief that weighed her down like a suit of armor and choked the life and joy from her. This was another punishment- to see flashes of the girl she was before Vi’s *bullshit* wrecked her life. So full of life, so devastatingly beautiful, dancing in the dark with her skin aglow, and then she was gone and some shitbag was making over on her and got a broken jaw for his effort.

Cait was there when the world spun from the booze, and when ham sized fists cracked ribs and bruised organs to the point of bursting, when the grain alcohol scoured her throat with hot whips and hard knuckles chipped her skull and scrambled her brains. When her cheek hit the dirt she would come in brief flashes, soft fingers curled lovingly around her chin, huge eyes liquid with grief.

On those nights she made it home -or at least, crawled back to her shithole flip house- she would lie on her side and see Cait’s face filling her vision again, only to slide inevitably into nightmares and dreamscapes made torture by her absence.

She had done everything wrong and Cait was gone.

Most of the times. Sometimes she raged. That Piltie bitch promised she wouldn’t changed but she’d lied, she already had. Vi had given her everything, everything! Her name was shit down here, her family gone, her life gone. She was nothing but a rabid dog mauling other beasts until one day she’d get her throat torn out, just more trash. What had she called them? Animals?

She’d scream her name in a rage as the bottle shattered on the wall and plead for her as she gulped from the next one. Eventually even Loris stopped coming around.

“I’m not going to let you kill yourself, Violet. I’m definitely not going to help.”

“Then fuck off,” Vi snarled.

She didn’t know how long that had been. Down here in the lowest parts of the undercity, day wasn’t much different than night. She crawled back to the pits. She fought. She won, sometimes she lost. With blood knuckles and a feral grin or a busted lip and a feeling of coming apart inside her ribs, she’s take a bag of coins, give a few to the landlord and spend the rest on drink.

It was Cait’s voice she heard in the dark.

You’re not even eating.

“Go fuck yourself, cupcake,” she’d mutter, and some sump rat would stare at her like a madwoman, sometimes run his yap and get a pop in the jaw for it.

Eventually it’d happen. The booze-rot would eat its way to the outside, or something would break inside, or she’d throw hands with someone with a blade or a club and be too tired and drunk and fucked up to fight it and she’d be fucking free.

No more ghosts. The living do not haunt the dead.

She wasn’t sure how she got back here. She wasn’t even sure if she won the last bout. They were all melting together in a stew of pain, the meat within falling to shreds from boiling too long. Vi stared at herself in the cracked mirror, one little Vi surrounded by a dozen little ones, all splitting the same face, drawn and waxy and pale and marred by sooty black. She took a drink of her poison and shook the bottle, hearing the hollow slosh of the dregs, and tossed it, uncaring of it broke or not, if there were enough coins in the black bag to buy another.

Vi fell more than sat on the bed. Gravity did the rest and she fell on her side, wincing at the explosion of pain radiating from her flank. Cracked rib, most likely. She remembered now. She’d been careless, slow, tried to trap an uppercut meant to crack her sternum and kill her and took it in the rib instead. Every breath hurt. It would be easier to just not to, but she couldn’t stop.

Of course she was there. Cait lying in a silken heaven, big liquid eyes drinking Vi’s soul, full of such compassion and love. No one had looked at Vi like that since she was a child, looked past the grime and the scars and the hurt to just see her.

No one but Cait, and Cait left her.

Vi closed her eyes, ready as ever not to open them. When she felt a soft brush of fingers on her cheek she brushed them away. The visions could fuck off, she was tired.

“She’s not waking up,” Cait said, her voice tight with concern, stretching the clipped professional tone she used round her subordinates to its limit.

“She’s hurt badly,” a man said.

“Commander, we have to go. If someone spots you here they’ll tear us apart.”

“Loris, help me carry her.”

The worked carved red lines of pain through her as powerful hands lifted her from the bed.

This was odd. She’d imagined Cait everywhere but she’d always been alone. Why the hell was she hallucinating Loris? Sure, he was a fine drinking buddy and reminded her a little of Vander but he was hardly-

Oh.

Vi forced her eyes open, a struggle with how gummy and dry they were. The big man was carrying her in his arms and Maddie was comically struggling to carry an oversized bag weighed down by Vi’s atlas gauntlets.

Cait.

Cait was there. It was her. It was really her. Vi could feel her fingers probing her broke rib and see her and God she could smell her, Cait smelled like lilacs and how could anything smell so good in this fetid shithole?

“Cupcake?” she rasped.

“What is she, hungry?” Maddie muttered.

“Cait, get your hood up,” said Loris. “Vi, stay quiet. We’ll take the ventilation shafts, stay out of sight.”

Vi obliged the request by passing out.

It felt like hours in the dark. She’d wake, not knowing if she was in the dream world or the real, if these figures were carrying her to Piltover or hell. She would hear Cait’s voice, soft words to steady her and a gentle hand clasping hers when a jolt made her cry out in agony.

It was strangely easy to sleep while someone as carrying you.

When she woke, she knew she had to be in a dream. She’d dreamed this before- opening her eyes and seeing the elaborate silk canopy of Cait’s expansive bed in her palatial bedroom, big enough to build a Zaunite tenement inside. She would sit up, and Call Cait’s name and hear no answer. She’d rise and wander the halls and eventually make her way to the gardens and still no one would reply.

Vi would wander in an empty world forever, a specter with no one to torment.

No, it was different this time. She’d never dreamed of a thin tube connecting a bottle hanging over the bed to a needle taped in place on her arm. He dreams had never had the constricting feeling of bandages around her trunk, or wrapped around a dozen cuts on her arms and legs. In dreams her lips had never been dry, her throat never parched. The dream world traded in other kinds of pain.

She tried to speak but it was like her tongue was sandpaper, so she moved to sit up instead, gasping in agony as pain exploded in her side. She felt like shit, skin clammy with sour sweat, hurting all over and her head was pounding.

“Try not to move,” Cait whispered, suddenly there, a gentle hand pressing her back down. “You’ve a broken rib and internal injuries, and the withdrawal.”

“Caitlyn?” Vi managed to choke out.

Cait gently lifted her head, guided a glass to her lips. The water was ice cold and it was bliss. She closed her eyes and savored it as deeply as a fine wine. Not that she’d had much experience with that.

“Where am I?”

Cait hesitated.

Vi’s eyesight was clearing now as she blinked the gum away. Cait was pale and drawn, dark circles under her eyes from nights without sleep. There was a deep weariness in her eyes that made Vi’s heart ache. She looked for the spark that had always been there, but saw only faint embers, ready to be swept into nothing by the slightest air.

“I brought you home.”

Vi closed her eyes.

“You should have left me where you found me.”

“I shouldn’t have left you at all. I’ll never forgive myself.”

Cait curled her fingers around Vi’s, and squeezed.

“Yeah,” Vi rasped. “I know that feeling.”

[salt-clangen]

How the codekeeper role works exactly? Sorry if it was already answered it, but i had searched and couldn't find it.

No worries! So codekeepers were created by @rippleclan but they’re comfortable letting others use the concept. You can read their description of it here.

In simple terms codekeepers are the justice system of the clans, they spend majority of the time as standard warriors; hunting, patrolling, skirmishes etc. They don’t differ from regular warriors much until a possible crime- or ‘code break’- occurs, then they are instructed by the Leader/Deputy/Clerics to investigate the allegations. These crimes are basically anything that goes against the warrior code- I also have a different warrior code than canon srry. Examples can be anything from murder to treason to trespassing and more. It can be very nuanced, the code keepers (also called ‘keepers or ‘guards’ in my story) are supposed to look for evidence and witnesses to the crime, once that’s completed there’s a trial. Codekeepers are allowed to cross clan borders and question other clan’s cats to complete this task (within reason).

Depending on the crime, the evidence, and the leaders involved the time between allegations and a trial could be anywhere between a few days to a moon. A trial must be done in a timely manner but the codes are a lil loose with the definition of ‘timely’ so some leaders will prolong the investigatory period to multiple moons but this isn’t common.

During the trial there are two key code keepers, one argues against the accused cat and the other argues for the accused. Similar to American courts of law and lawyers (I’m from America I don’t really know how courts work in other countries just to clarify). These codekeepers take turn calling witnesses, presenting evidence, and making arguments. This all takes place before the leader and the clan (who must remain orderly and quiet). Once both sides have made their arguments and all the evidence is presented the leader will confer with their deputy and cleric (usually the lead cleric but not always) before they make a ruling. Punishments can be varied and are usually tied to the crime in some way, the more severe the crime the more severe the punishment. Punishment can be restriction of leaving camp, doing unwanted jobs, social exile (shunning), dishonor titles (like Burnpaw’s). Severe punishments include exile (either temporary or permanent) and even execution in the most extreme cases.

Codekeepers aren’t enforcers of the code, every clan member is expected to uphold the warrior code and hold others to that standard, keepers are just the ones who help keep it fair if an allegation is made and let the leader remain as unbiased as possible to make a decision.

Now this is where the similarities end with me and rippleclan’s use of codekeepers, I really liked the concept of this being an official role but I wanted to kinda push it a little further.

In my clangen, codekeepers are the warriors that want to be the most warriors that ever warriored. Basically these are the cats that want to not just study the code and defend it, they want to excel in every aspect of the warrior role. These cats are like Warriors Plus, y’know.

To be a codekeeper isn’t easy, you have to have a great memory, critical thinking skills, strong morals, objectivity, endurance, public speaking, and debating. A lot of cats can’t perform in this role, the leader and mentors will hold small mock trials to see if a codekeeper apprentice can graduate into a full warrior. If they fail, they may try again in a moon or, if they passed their other assessments, they can graduate as a regular warrior.

Codekeepers have a lot in common with other roles that are non combative, such as mediators and historians. While historians and mediators often hunt and patrol with regular warriors to provide for the clan, they aren’t used in fights or wars (Ashenstep being a notable exception and is an excellent fighter). Like mediators they have to maintain a level of objectivity and demonstrate emotional intelligence, these are their clan mates and loved ones they might be investigating. Though the leader will usually pick keepers who aren’t related or too close to the accused. And like historians they have to memorize and understand the code on many levels, this is without a formal writing system too.

Codekeepers are also called Guards because they are often sent with patrols made up of non combative cats/clerics as a sort of security. In Honeyclan keepers are also in charge of watching the fields while patrols are out of camp bc the land is so flat and so close to the boating place, sometimes humans go out into the fields to see the flowers or dogs get loose and can cross the territory quickly. There’s very few places to hide in the fields.

Duskclan has the most keepers, Oakclan the second most, and Honeyclan the third. Saltclan obv has none (technically Wolfstar, but she never actually took the bar exam lol)

Sorry this was long but I encourage you to check out the rippleclan post about codekeepers as well.

[callsign-mustang]

The sergeant was a wily thing. One hell of a soldier, keeping up with Soap and Gaz. Could handle their asses and throw some snark back when given. Had a demeanor like ghost, snarling at any hand offered, thinking it’s raised in violence. Yet, though almost invisible, clings to those very few words of praise given.

Skittish, almost in their aggression. Cold in their professionalism. A good soldier of course- never failing to meet expectations and go above if they absolutely must. Relishing their solitude. -Alone is safe- they remind themselves.

Ghost is the one to offer them up to price, like a guard dog bringing the limp body of their conquest to the feet of their master with that nervous expression. Of course, reader couldn’t see it. Thought it was just the LT trying to make them a better soldier.

-wanna be like you when I’m older, LT.-

Reader standing still, that same raw gleam in their eyes that price recognized from Ghost. (Before he’d tempered him, weathered him to fit his hand like a glove, a sword to wield.) A sense of… ease filling reader when the captain agrees, relenting to Ghost’s request for him to take her under the captain’s wing.

Like a mutt in the pound, unknowingly welcoming the noose around their neck. No clue of the games and tricks price would be playing to keep them docile- complacent.

Scheduled to the captain’s liking, tied to the Lieutenant’s own routine; can’t escape. More training than other soldiers- harder, intense. Almost alarming, the significant drop in free time or rest periods they had between training and marksmanship practice. Break their body, punishments and rewards. Running till they drop, feed them a compliment to feed that little worm he’d put in their skull.

-No energy to give attitude.- price would mumble to Ghost who stood by, remembering his own time trained under Price. He’s using the same tactics he used to ‘tame’ ghost. Now he’s the warden looking in on their shared prisoner who was on mile five with that heavy gear on. Good cop, bad cop. The LT dishing out heavy tasks, making reader struggle to complete them until they’re grasping at straws, begging for help.

Who steps in to comfort with gentle words and open arms? Price, reinforcing the bond between them. Finally treated as something other than a living weapon, more than just a tool to be discarded at the first crack. Reader welcomed it; First time in their life they’re shown decency or compassion. -Cling to it like your life depends on it- the voice in their head whispers and they agree. Not just a martyr in their eyes but someone with purpose.

Becoming malleable like clay in their hands as time goes on. How long? Depends…. Got reader to stop snapping at ghost after five weeks, stopped flinching at Price’s ‘adjustments’ when they’d spar and his fingers would graze the smallest of exposed skin after three months. Stopped clawing at them, didn’t feel like a mutt anymore.

Couldn’t say when it started, but they found themselves getting fewer and fewer punishments. The fact the less harsh treatment started when they stopped fighting them so hard on anything. More sweetly manipulative words from price, ghost brushing against them and getting his timbre scent all on them.

Didn’t mean there weren’t times when old habits would arise, making comments on a stupid plan for their mission. Of course the behavior was usually short lived when it came around. only to find themselves almost coughing their meal up after a brutal sparring match with Ghost. Mumbling apologies, coughing up ‘I’m sorry’s’ after each blow until they accept.

Looking up from their kneeling position with a pretty purple and blue bruise on their cheek. A little drop of crimson from a split lip, the shade matching the color on Ghost’s glove. What a sight… Their cheeks in their Captain and Lieutenant’s gloved hands, skin not touching. Pleading for forgiveness like they were at an altar of their god, pathetic for grace. When it’s given, they finally feel that euphoria the duo had been systematically training reader to crave.

Finally had them after a year- under their thumbs, welcoming the collar around their neck with an almost dazed expression. Knowing the collar meant comfort, familiarity, meant a purpose. Not just embracing the hold they had- craving it. Needing it like oxygen. Pliant- tamed.

Theirs

[aziraphales-library]

hi! thanks for all of your (all the mods) work for the fandom - its so incredible! i was wondering if you had any fics where crowley gets captured/enslaved by someone and aziraphale finds out and tries to rescue him? thanks so much!

Hello! We have a #kidnapping tag you can check out, and you will also want to have a look at the #summoning tag, as that is a form of kidnapping. Here are more in which Crowley is kidnapped...

blessed be by rainbowumbrella (M)

Trembling fingers run over the barbs of the feather, and Aziraphale can feel it, he can feel the confirmation of what he already instinctively knows. This feather doesn’t belong to a bird, this feather isn’t even of Earth. It’s celestial, angelic in origin, belonging to a very familiar, very dear fallen angel. This feather, lightly scorched around the edges, mailed to him from an unknown address out of the blue, is Crowley’s feather. *** A temptation gone wrong leads Crowley to fall into the hands of some humans determined to find forgiveness for a demon.

Reluctant Hospitality by brionypoisoned (G)

Anathema Device comes to stay at Aziraphale's book shop after breaking up with Newt. She doesn't know that Aziraphale and Crowley are romantically involved, and Aziraphale attempts to keep it that way. Everything goes very badly.

Envy the Subtle Serpent by walkwithursus (T)

A mysterious bookshop patron strikes up an unlikely friendship with Aziraphale. Crowley sees right through the stranger's charming exterior to the serpent that lies beneath. Like recognizes like.

Crossing a Line by Bookwormgal (T)

The world should have ended four years ago. That was how it was written. The Great Plan was very clear on that much. Six thousand years after the creation of the world, the Anti-Christ would arrive on Earth. And after his eleventh birthday, when he came into power, he would lead the demons into the Final War. All of humanity would perish while angels and demons clashed in one final glorious confrontation. But no one had accounted for a few little snags. Like a couple of traitors. Or a disobedient Anti-Christ. And then, as if the Apocalypse not happening wasn’t already bad enough, Heaven and Hell couldn’t even punish those to blame for that entire mess. That was unacceptable. If Michael couldn't have the promised War and if she could not kill at least the demon involved, then she would at a minimum make him suffer. She could at least make him suffer until he wished that holy water could end his miserable existence.

Drops of Sorrow by EdosianOrchids901 (M)

Ten years after the failed Apocalypse, Crowley is captured by Heaven. Gabriel plans to use him as bait to lure Aziraphale into a fight. Can Crowley survive captivity, and will Aziraphale be able to rescue him without walking into the trap?

Good Expectations by tweedfeather (E)

After the Nope-ocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley move slowly — up until the night they move too fast. The consequences will send them reeling. As they figure out what they mean to each other, they must contend with both the expected and unexpected.

- Mod D

[muffinsin]

Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter 5: Yours, wholly

[TWs for this chapter: Physical abuse, emotional abuse, violence, manipulation, attempted drowning, sadism, drugging]

Masterlists Smoke and Mirrors

Overview Smoke and Mirrors

Blog Masterlists 30 likes for the next chapter again

New HC post coming tomorrow🙌🙌

Daniela shivers as she feels her lover move around. Ghostly limbs lift her on the table properly, yet she’s entirely too drowsy to move. She can only move her head, a happy smile on her face, her wet tears the only evidence of the pain Donna yet again purposefully inflicted on her. Of course, Daniela doesn’t see this. Of course, the poor thing can only focus on the happiness and pleasure her darling let her experience.

She watches as the older woman moves a measuring tape across her body, dolls and ghostly hands alike lifting her arms to help her out. She blushes when her legs are spread for more measurements, then again when she’s sat up again and measured. Her body feels so heavy, her lips especially so, as though talking is difficult. She doesn’t mind, through her rose tinted glasses of romance this is beautiful, a calm, loving silence.

She doesn’t realize how much time has passed, having fallen into a trance, until she hears her lover’s voice in her head again.

“Come here, doll”

Obediently, she rises from the table, a comfortable warmth surrounding her. She doesn’t know how she knows what Donna wants, yet feels soft touches against her back guiding her. Daniela ends up kneeling at the floor by her lover’s legs, her head resting on her lap, comfortable. Yet another sign of possession. Donna works effortlessly, occasionally summoning a doll to bring her what she wants while Daniela stays right by her side, kneeling obediently, leaning into her lap. A good doll, indeed. Soon, she will ask her to retrieve things, too, when the little doll is bound to her a little more securely.

“Is this your home?”, Daniela asks quietly, but ever so curiously, her wide open eyes looking up when Donna gazes down at her. She feels drowsy again, yet not enough so to sleep. To others than Daniela, it would be clear she was simply made to be quiet, a good doll that doesn’t talk when she isn’t addressed. It seems, the young woman hasn’t yet learned that, though the Lord doesn’t bother punishing her this time. In a way, she finds her little doll’s inexperience and curiosity endearing, and allows it this time.

When Donna answers, it’s with her own lips, tongue and voice. “Our home, doll”, she corrects, gentle but firm. Daniela feels a shiver run up her spine and feels the by now familiar burn of the brand on her back.

Briefly, there is a flash of home, of the castle, of her family. Daniela gasps soundlessly when searing pain comes from the previously comfortable brand. She whimpers, trying hard to stay quiet to please her lover, and for but a moment she thinks: is this right?

But then a hand reaches down to stroke her hair and head, and all melts away again. Of course, this is right. She is loved. She’s happy she doesn’t have to leave just yet. What’s a few more hours, after all?

As it turns out, hours pass within the blink of an eye at the manor.

While Donna spends them crafting a new doll’s dress, significantly larger than most she crafts, little Daniela rests with her head on her lap and her head in the clouds. Given scenarios and feelings and sensations from her lover, she finds herself lost in a sea of faked love and affection. With her eyes closed and body relaxed, she thinks of the scenarios for hours;

Held by Donna’s side, her lips lingering on her own, her hands holding onto Daniela’s softer, smaller and more petite ones. Her tongue dominating her mouth. Oh, she feels so loved, so happy. No longer lonely, no, owned.

Another, taking a walk through the gardens. She doesn’t quite recognize the white doll she’s carrying, but smiles, nonetheless. She walks with Donna, watches dolls and mannequins tend to some the plants, whereas Donna tends to others. Of course, her sweet Daniela is right there. It must be love, she thinks, how Donna wants to have her with her!

To others, again, this is rather possession, to take all from Daniela, to have her with her and reduce her to nothing but the Beneviento’s property. No, she does not get to play without Donna’s permission, does not get to hunt without permission, does not get to be out of the dollmaker’s watchful sight without her permission.

As her beautiful scenario continues, Daniela feels as though a warm blanket surrounds her. Love- it has to be. She sees herself smelling some of the flowers, her playfulness warming Donna’s heart, so long as it is contained and only comes out with permission.

And lastly, another, in which Daniela is kissed and feels Donna’s hands cup her cheeks adoringly. She doesn’t see the dark room around them, the door bound to be closing and locking her in after Donna is done. No, the poor, delusional thing only feels the love of the moment, the comfort, the eagerness to see Donna again.

She nuzzles the woman’s lap lovingly, and silently. Again, she receives loving touches in return. Despite not loving her as Daniela believes, the dollmaker does enjoy her company and finds herself falling in love, even. Daniela, her precious gem. A prize, really. One she means to keep. An obsession. She wants her. Wants Daniela’s body and soul all to herself. She will not share with anyone, will not allow Daniela to turn to anybody else.

“Stand, darling girl”

Daniela blushes and smiles happily at the pet name, immediately rises at the woman’s command. She stands tall, her perky nipples hardened. When Donna stands up, she feels as though she shrinks a little, her nose barely brushing against the woman’s cheek. Already, she wants to get back on her tiptoes, but the lowly burning heat at her back immediately reveals that she is to stand still.

She’s led out of the room, then, a small smirk appearing at Donna’s lips when she turns curiously to check the newly made dress on the table. She doesn’t see much, wants to see more so very badly, but follows obediently.

Again, she feels the comfortable heat surround her. She smiles happily, and Donna can’t help but feel like it reaches the depths of her dark heart. Her little doll truly is the most adorable, if still a little unruly.

Daniela follows obediently, eager to see more of the manor’s basement. She finds odd paintings, yet doesn’t question them. As she looks at them, she finds: they’re in fact, rather nice. They have- something- about them.

Stepping into the first room they encounter on the hallway out of the workshop, she finds it’s a bathroom.

She flinches as, suddenly, a large doll-like mannequin steps past her to move towards the tub in the room and her naïve little heart swoons as Donna catches her, holding her doll tightly to her. Perhaps a little too tight, judged by the finger-shaped bruises slowly building at Daniela’s skin. She squirms, but doesn’t try to squirm away, a truly obedient girl for her lover. Donna hums at this. While she’s certainly capable of controlling her strength, she finds a rush of excitement and arousal rise and spread in her body upon inflicting pain on sweet little Daniela. How she squirms, how she gasps, how little pain it takes for thick tears to roll down her cute, soft cheeks, as if she has rarely felt physical pain before, as if her precious mother and her own biology was able to shield her from such things for all her life. No more.

Despite it merely being a mannequin, Daniela can’t help but raise her arms and hands to her chest, suddenly painfully aware of her state of undress. This, of course, is immediately caught by the older woman holding her tight. She squeaks as her hip is squeezed painfully, a voiceless command to look up. And when Daniela does, she sees the disapproving look in the woman’s dark eye.

When poor Daniela begins to look a little upset, the doll maker decides to draw back. Yes, Daniela is hers, but not yet wholly. She will be, more and more with every day to come, yet the dollmaker would like to avoid having to wrestle the younger woman into her new role for the time being. Exploiting the naïve girl’s wish for love and affection, she turns to a different route.

Daniela’s insecure, worried frown turns to a flustered smile when she feels Donna kiss her forehead, then, at last, place a kiss to her lips. She feels the electricity she has always read about, the heat and desire and love. She can’t help but giggle, completely compliant, when the brunette woman takes her arms and pushes them down again, revealing her chest yet again.

“It’s just the two of us, doll”, Donna whispers. A different way of commanding, warning, Daniela not to do what she’s done again, that she is entirely Donna’s and no longer gets to choose when and how to cover her body. Not that the young woman knows this.

“Yes, my love”, she agrees, then, her eyes overtaken by the same haze as before, the pheromones of Donna’s plants and pollen slowly guiding the woman to the right answer.

As Daniela turns again, she finds the tub being prepared. Briefly, she thinks about a romantic bath with her lover. Hardly what Donna has in mind, but she allows her doll to think of it a little while longer, only holding her tighter to her and kissing the top of her head. She feels calmer with her doll here, more confident.

Daniela will remain by her side, always. And she will ensure that she can no longer live without her. All in due time, of course.

When the mannequin finishes drawing the bath, it stands by its side, its hands held behind its back. Daniela pouts a little; no bubbles, no oils, merely a plain bath that is so unlike those she used to have at the castle. She shivers as she feels the older woman’s touch turn a tad bit harsher.

“Yes?”, Donna questions. She senses something is up with Daniela, feels light frustrations even, but doesn’t quite show it.

The auburn haired woman blushes a little, looking down. Suddenly, her love for colourful, bubbly baths seems infantile and stupid. She doesn’t quite want to tell Donna about her wish, but it turns out fast that the woman doesn’t care. As such, she gasps when her chin is grabbed tightly, golden eyes flashing a little as she’s made to look up at her lover.

Coyly, she speaks: “I like bubbles, and oils, my love”, she admits. Then, with her usual confidence and playfulness, leans into her lover’s touch. “Please, love? Can we add some soap?”

Normally, the dollmaker would be frustrated, deem her newest addition to the dolls too much work.

Not with Daniela, though. She finds herself wrapped somewhat around her finger, eying the adorable pout on her face. Of course, a twisted part in her feels that the face would look even more adorable bruised and cut up by her hands, Daniela’s adorable little squeaks and cries heard as she’s hurt. She shakes her head subtly, allowing herself to focus back on the present. First of all, her little girl must get dolled up.

Daniela grins happily when the mannequin moves again, adding bubbles and soap, oils and more soap to the plain bath. She throws her arms around her lover happily, her face pressing up against the woman’s neck. Donna, despite herself, smiles. She too craved someone to love her, to be hers and hers alone, her pet and doll in every way. Again, Daniela Dimitrescu proves to be the perfect match for this. So naïve despite her age, so shielded from everything her family so desperately tried protecting her from, so cute and playful, so easy to bruise and so utterly desperate for love, she is practically begging to be taken advantage of, Donna thinks.

She strokes along Daniela’s backside, caressing her long, auburn hair. She thinks, she will have the woman grow it out even more, only ever giving her a trim when it’s needed. How adorable she looks already, how adorable she will look with even longer, soft hair. Just as a perfect doll should have.

Daniela, on her part, unaware of the thoughts crossing the dollmaker’s mind, simply enjoys the loving touch of another, one who is not herself, not her sisters or mother hugging her when she feels particularly clingy.

She almost can’t believe it!

Finally, the wait for love is over.

This has to be it!

A Lord of the village, nonetheless.

She hums happily, her eyes closing even when she hears the mannequin croak as it moves back into place.

Donna allows her darling doll to stay near a little longer. She caresses her sides, the adorable hip dips she sports, the wide hips. Perfect for breeding, she notes to herself with a pleased hum. When she pulls away, Daniela gazes up at her lovingly and with all the worship a doll should have for her master.

She allows the mostly mute woman to guide her to the bathtub, doesn’t even flinch when the mannequin moves again and pulls her panties down her smooth, long legs. Daniela shivers as she feels its gaze lingering on her. It extends a hand, which she knows to take to get into the spacious tub.

She hums at the warm water, just perfect around her aching limbs. Daniela hisses a little as the brand comes in contact with it, but soon gets used to the sting it causes when Donna cups her cheeks lovingly yet again. The cute woman watches her lover as she sits down next to the bathtub. Still, it’s phantom hands that lift her arms and restrain them, allowing Donna and the mannequin to move in with sponges and soap.

Daniela squirms slightly, whines when a touch is a tad bit too hard or ticklish. While she loves to be pampered, she can really bathe on her own, too, she feels. Yet when she voices this, she finds the mannequin woman’s hand roughly slapped over her mouth, muffling all else the woman could want to say.

She shrieks in surprise when another pair of phantom hands grab at her ankles, lifting them to expose her wet, soapy legs. Her eyes are wide as her face gets closer and closer to the water’s surface.

Drowning, not an irrational fear, certainly, especially when water happens to be one of the swarm’s weaknesses.

She tries to complain, tries to plead, yet it almost feels like the wooden hand over her mouth muffles all. In response, she is pushed lower, her face halfway under water, only her nose barely above the surface. Embarrassingly, she feels tears build up at her face again, her fear rising as the distance to the water surface becomes less and less. It’s just a tub, she knows, and still…

Donna’s eye is set on her, dark, almost tense. Daniela realises she’s being challenged, whether or not she will behave, whether or not she will stop squirming and struggling. A single tear drips from her eye, runs down her cheek and onto the water. She pleads, silently, to be let up, for mercy.

For the first time, she feels scared of Donna Beneviento, her delusions drawing back momentarily to show her the seriousness of the situation. She cries, struggles, tries to swarm. She wants to go home! She wants Bela! Cassandra! Mother! She wants to get out!, screams these wishes through the hand even underwater, breathes heavily through her mouth as she feels the soapy water enter her mouth.

If she was as animalistic of a predator as others, Donna would growl. Alas, she grunts, displeased. Her dark eye set on her misbehaving doll.

Thoughts of a false home, a false family. No, certainly not. She will not allow it.

Daniela shrieks loudly as she’s pushed under entirely, ghostly hands keeping her limbs in place no matter how hard she trashes. She tries to tug her arms and legs free, yet feels them bruise more and more only. Then, another tug of her arm. She cries out in pain even under the water as her wrist cracks, pain shooting up her arm to her shoulder. She cries and panics, swallows too much water.

Her throat feels tight.

Donna watches, bitter. She likes seeing her little doll trash, fear, cry, likes to feel her fear, likes to see the many bubbles at the water surface as the naïve thing screams underwater.

Then, no more screams, only cries, coughs, more water filling poor Daniela’s lungs.

Thoughts that aren’t her own flood her head.

She’s been bad, she deserves this. She’s been bad. She deserves this. She’s been a bad girl, a bad lover. Maybe Donna may show her mercy. She doesn’t deserve mercy, she deserves this.

She cries, coughs, feels her throat close up, her vision blurry under the water.

Then, a hand the back of her neck, pulling her up.

She gasps for air immediately, drool and water running down her chin as the water clears from her throat again. Donna watches, pleased, as Daniela cries and leans towards her side of the tub, begging for forgiveness and mercy. She knows this game well by now. Now, is the part in which she comforts her doll.

Daniela sobs as she feels the older woman move her arms around her. She can’t recall how she went under, knows she was daydreaming about the castle and her family before it happened. She cries terribly, feels so bad for staining her lover’s dress in her tears. Donna coos, shushes her, strokes her head. She doesn’t even notice more of the pollen’s pheromones move from the white flowers set up around the house, doesn’t notice how she clings more and more towards Donna. She needs her, though. No other could possibly make her feel as safe, as loved. She feels herself calm down again, feels Donna pull away to cup her cheeks lovingly. She smiles, all teary and wet. No other could comfort her like her lover. She wants nothing more than to stay with her, to be with her, forever. Her saviour.

Staying cradled up to Donna, Daniela allows the mannequin to keep washing her, gently scrubbing cum and filth from her, blood and such. She feels a little uneasy around it, yet can’t quite place why, the details of her punishment just moments ago completely forgotten, leaving the poor soon-to-be doll with only the intense feeling of love and dependency on her lover, as well as the want to never, never disappoint her.

While the mannequin is allowed to wash Daniela’s body, Donna rises to take over for her hair, feeling the beautiful, wet strands between her fingers. Daniela hums happily, leaning into every touch as a good pet should, according to Donna. She is gentle with her, kissing her head and massaging her scalp as she rubs the soap into the soft strands of hair; a harsh contrast to her cruel punishment of just mere minutes ago. Which, of course, Daniela has difficulty remembering at all as it truly happened.

She allows Donna to rinse the soap out with water, her eyes holding a familiar haze to them to avoid another tantrum about the water near her face. While she’s perfectly obedient like this, Donna finds herself missing Daniela’s playfulness. Aside from this, she would hardly be a good doll collector if she didn’t train and mold her precious gem into the doll she wants her to be.

When finished, Daniela steps out of the tub obediently, smiling with the remaining memories of the fantasies Donna conjured up for her, of cuddles and love, of shared beds and hot desire.

She giggles when she’s dried, the sound music to Donna’s ears. Despite her occasional disobedience, she does make such an adorable doll, indeed.

She playfully kisses her nose, bringing forth more giggles from the young woman. Then, effortlessly, she brings her darling back into her trance-like state, enjoying the silence of her company as she blow dries the woman’s long hair. She touches the strands gently, combs through them with her fingertips, then a brush. Daniela hums happily, slipping in and out of reality and the made up one of her lover.

When the soft hair no longer drips and instead falls down Daniela’s shoulders and back in gentle, sweet waves, she deems her work finished.

With a hand at Daniela’s backside she’s led down the corridor again, back to the workshop she knows already. She stands obediently, fidgeting a little with her hands and nails. The air is cool against her naked form, making her shiver.

Then, her eyes widen a little. She finds the dresses sewn by Donna, both in a girlish colour and texture.

The woman holds up one first. A beige dress, looking almost as if it’s out of a fairytale. Daniela blushes as it’s held up against her bare body.

With laces and long sleeves, a corset-like waist piece and reaching down to a little below her knees, it would have her look nearly like the dolls dressed in beige around the house.

She flushes at the sight of it, following it with her eyes as it’s set down carefully on the workbench again.

The other follows a different aesthetic, less simple, less faded. It’s pink fabric almost looks out of place in the dark house, but comes with a far more innocent and playful vibe to it. With a significantly shorter skirt reaching only to her upper thighs and a tighter frame, it would easily draw attention to Daniela’s body. The girlish dress is made entirely of pink fabric, a deeper shade of pink fabric serving as a belt above the skirt, drawing even more attention to her physique and hips. Unlike the other dress, this is short sleeved.

Daniela blushes a little as it’s held up to her body, too. While the previous dress had her look more like an antique doll, this has her look younger, almost, more cheerful and innocent, as though a visual to point out her naivety and playfulness. She allows her fingertips to trace the pattern on the skirt, little suns that match the Beneviento crest, flies, and bunnies. She blushes again. While it would certainly look adorable on her, she’s sure, she can’t help but feel as though it’s a little...childish, a little out of place in the somewhat dark manor, like it would have her stick out like a sore thumb. She doesn’t voice this, of course.

And lastly, something she only notices when the dress is turned, both dresses have an exposed space at the backside, allowing Donna to see the branding mark left on her doll at all times. Again, this has poor Daniela’s face heat up and has her cheeks turn a pinkish colour that match the dress held in Donna’s hand.

It seems, this convinces her, as she holds the fabric up to her cheeks with a low laugh.

“It is time to get dressed, my beautiful girl”

A simple command, really, but enough for Daniela to smile happily. She doesn’t miss the possessive “my” in the command and it has her smile even wider as she allows Donna to dress her. It seems this too, she is not meant to do on her own. Instead she allows her to move her as she wishes, truly to handle her like one of her dolls, until the dress sits tightly on her. Her entire body feels warm beneath it, the fabric clinging tightly to her skin, save for the fluttery skirt barely covering her ass and the back of her upper thighs.

More items are retrieved and yet, to Daniela’s surprise, no underwear is among them. Despite herself, she feels herself blush a little and feels a familiar flutter in her stomach at this. Donna hums, satisfied.

Only when her lover lifts a choker to her throat does she notice the absence of her regular one, gifted to her by her mother. She whimpers, momentarily, her hand coming up to her throat.

“Love, where’s my mother’s necklace?”, she asks, whispers. While Donna dislikes the words coming from her little doll, her vulnerable, worried tone makes her pussy throb.

Her hand balls into a fist when Daniela turns, as though looking for it. She reaches out, feels the young woman’s worry and helplessness, her love towards her family.

Poor Daniela doesn’t notice her -according to Donna, misplaced- love only riles her supposed lover up.

Violent thoughts come up within the doll maker’s mind, thoughts of grabbing the cute doll by the hair and disciplining her for moving without permission. Despite being Donna’s favourite doll, Daniela is to follow a strict ruleset. One that has her stay still, talk, and move only when commanded to. Donna yearns to grasp for her, to bend her aching, swollen wrist further. It’s healing well already, given Daniela’s biology, so that the auburn haired woman has barely paid any mind to it. Soon, the pollen in the manor will even prevent these perks she is so used to. Now, the dollmaker yearns to grab and squeeze, to bring the woman down to her knees and to force an apology out of her.

At the same time, she sees an opportunity, here.

Daniela gasps when her body suddenly tenses up, forcing her to stay in place. Again, her world turns somewhat foggy, muffled, as though underwater.

Donna’s hands feel so loving, so gentle as they stroke her soft cheek. Whispers are spoken directly into her mind, accompanied by an image.

Daniela, weeping on the floor, her throat reddened slightly. Bela, standing above her, the necklace gripped tightly in her gloved hand.

“Don’t you remember, little doll? She took it from you”

Daniela whimpers a little as she sees her sister’s face in her mind, so full of anger, hatred. Never has Bela looked at her this way…what has she done? Why did this happen? Her lover wouldn’t lie, right? But…Bela has never acted out like this, has never been violent with Daniela aside from playful slaps to the back of her head, like Cassandra liked to do when she was goofing around with them.

But, Donna wouldn’t lie, right…?

Another image, Bela grabbing onto her wrist, so tight it hurt. Daniela flinches even at the supposed memory, clutching her still aching wrist. Is this how it happened? How she was hurt? But…why…Bela?

She can’t help the tears from falling at her fake realisation. Donna, as she holds her doll, hums, satisfied. It seems, even if the annoying blonde catches up to what has happened, she will hardly be in any position to help her sister. Especially given time, she’s confident she can turn Daniela’s annoyingly protective family completely against her.

She sighs dreamily at the fantasy of having Daniela entirely to herself.

[osohchoso]

Blood and Chains

Chapter Seven- Behind Those Eyes

Choso x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Chapter 8 coming soon!

Content: HEAVY LORE CHAPTER, flashback episode before he met you, Choso's POV, angst, blood, violence, minor character death

This story is set in a slight alternate universe from the real JJK, if you need a reminder on the lore please look at the prologue for a refresh :)

He was never supposed to love again. Not after everything that happened, not after her.

A year after the Shibuya incident, Choso was still adjusting to human society. It was hard for the half-curse to learn all the rules that accompany his flesh form. Not only did he have to figure out how to keep his body alive: food, sleep, warmth. He also had to understand the unwritten rules of society that come naturally for those born human. 

The first year wasn't just tough on Choso, but it was on Yuji too. Yuji was put in charge of him, expected to teach him everything he needed to know. Which is hard enough for a 15-year-old, but it was even harder with their originally rocky relationship. It took Yuji a few months to finally accept Choso as his older brother. 

Who could blame him with the family dynamic they have? Choso seemingly dropped from the sky into Yuji’s life. They tried to kill each other, of course their relationship would be strained. Thankfully, that period didn’t last long. The two brothers formed a strong bond within the first year. 

But not everyone trusted Choso. 

The higher-ups wanted him executed, a way to pay for his crimes in Shibuya. Choso would have accepted his fate too, he felt he deserved it for helping Kenjaku’s plot. To his surprise, many of the other sorcerers stood up for him, holding their ground against the decision. Without Choso, they wouldn’t have released Gojo from the prison realm that day, and there would have been many more casualties than there were. They saw value in him as a new ally. 

Reluctantly, the higher-ups decided on a new punishment. Sentenced to an eternal life serving as a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Hunting down curses until the end. In Choso’s eyes, it was justified, and he would carry out the sentence willingly.

Just to make sure he followed through; they tacked on an additional term. If Choso ever abandoned his post, ever betrayed them. He would be sentenced to death, with Yuji as his personal executioner. 

Which is why for the first year, he wasn't allowed on any mission alone. Every mission, even every walk out in the normal world, he had to be accompanied by Yuji or Gojo. Just in case he ‘went rogue’ as they said. The higher-ups still didn’t trust him, and they never truly will. 

After that first year was up, he was finally granted some freedom. Getting assigned missions alone and no longer needing an escort into town if he wanted an order of takoyaki. 

To celebrate his longer leash, he did just that. Walking into town and up to his favorite food stall, one him and Yuji frequent often. 

“The usual, Choso?” the elderly woman at the stand asked, already pouring the batter into the takoyaki maker she was hunched over. 

“Yes, please.” He responded with a polite nod and small smile. 

“No, Yuji today?” she questions as she flips the balls over in the pan. 

“Nope, not today.” He beams at her. Even though he loves coming to this place with his brother, he can’t contain the excitement he feels today. She smiles and transfers the cooked octopus balls to a paper tray, handing it to him. Choso fishes around in his pocket for the money but she shakes her head.

“Not today, this one is on the house. Enjoy the rest of your day dear.” She smiles at him.

“Thank you!” He smiles back, continuing on his stroll. He decided to make his way to the nearby park, just outside the city. Marching up a vibrant green hill and sitting underneath a shady tree. He stabs one of the takoyaki, bringing it in front of his lips and blowing on the steam. Then stuffing it inside his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he hums. He continues to devour his snack as he overlooks the park. Kids playing, couples having a picnic, a man and his dog playing catch. Today really was the perfect day. 

He stabs his last takoyaki and brings it to his mouth. Before he can savor the last ball, it falls off the pick and begins its descent down the hill, rolling at an incredible speed. He can do nothing but watch it roll away, straight toward two girls who are sitting on the grass. The ball rolls right into one of the girl’s white purse, staining it with its brown sticky sauce. He can hear them gasp, one of the girls glaring back at him.

Yuji said you have to apologize, even if it was an accident. He reminds himself of one of the rules his brother taught him. Pushing himself off the ground and making his way down the hill. As he approaches, he can hear them bickering. The one without the ruined purse seems more upset than the other. By appearances, he can tell they are in their twenties and also look strangely identical. Both with unusual long, snow-white hair. Reminding him of a certain sorcerer he knows. The only way to tell them apart is one of the girls had dazzling flecks of gold on her irises. 

“Um…I’m really sorry.” He interrupts them, pointing to the stain. “It just…fell off” He fidgets a bit as they turn their gaze to him, scanning his facial features as he avoids eye contact by looking at his feet. One of the girls berates him for being so careless, hurling insults that he tries to ignore. Standing there like a wounded puppy, his pigtails drooping slightly. 

As she continues her rant, Choso wishes he could crawl away in shame. Tail tucked between his legs and run. Yuji never told him that strangers could be so mean. He dares to raise his face as her sharp words continue to cut deep, locking eyes with the other girl, gold dancing in her eyes. She smiles in return. A soft and kind smile, one opposite to her rude accomplice. And she was beautiful, more beautiful than anything he's ever seen. 

His heart thumps in a way he's never felt, vibrant blush spreading across his face.

“Sis, that's enough. It was an accident and you're just making him uncomfortable.” The nice one tells the mean one. 

“Y-yeah. An accident.” Choso echos quiet as a mouse. 

“Still, that was an expensive gift and-” 

“Lysithea! Stop!” She interrupts her sister before she goes back to reprimanding Choso. The mean one, Lysithea, closes her mouth. Lips in a tight line as she glares at her. “Ignore her…she's the evil twin.” She teases, turning back to Choso.

“I’m really sorry. I can replace it!” Choso blurts out, guilt eating him alive for ruining such a nice possession. She looks like she's about to object, then her lips curve into a cute smirk. Standing up in front of him. 

“Let me see your phone.” She asks, hand out waiting for him to oblige. Choso reaches a hand in his pocket and freezes. He left the stupid thing at home. In all honesty, he hated that confusing rectangle. Yuji gets so frustrated with him when he tries to show him how to use it, so he doesn’t even bother trying.

“I…Uh...” He stammers, not sure what to say. Cheeks still bright red as his eyes roam her pretty face. She lets out a slight laugh while shaking her head, bending down to retrieve something from her stained purse. 

“Let me see your arm.” Even though he's confused, he obeys. Sticking his forearm out in front of her. She grabs his wrist, the touch sending an electric shock through him. She pushes up his sleeve with one hand, her other uncaps a sharpie. Scrawling a string of numbers along with her name, ‘Lilith’, across his pale skin. She releases his hand, looking back up at him.

“Text me later, pretty boy?” Her words send an unfamiliar heat straight through him. He swallows hard.

“Yeah…I will,” he whispered hoarsely.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

It started with the purse.

Yuji helped Choso send the text, feeling a bit of pride. His older brother got a girl’s number all on his own, even if it was due to a silly mistake. The little brother also wanted to act as wingman, setting him up for his first time out with a girl. Even though Choso keeps telling him it isn't a date, Yuji continues to think otherwise. Sitting down and making the brother watch romance movie after movie, until he felt he was prepared. 

Choso never saw this as a romantic outing, it was just fixing his wrong doings. 

When he met up with Lilith at the mall, his heart skipped a beat. Wearing a casual and flowy maxi dress, not a hair on her head out of place. Suddenly, he wishes he had dressed a little nicer, instead of the tee-shirt and jeans he threw on in a rush. 

The pair went and found another purse, almost identical to the one she had before. With a large price tag. Choso didn’t mind though, this is what he promised to do. He can always make more money. 

Afterwards, he turned to her. Muttering an awkward goodbye before turning to leave. As he tried to walk away, she reached a hand for his, enveloping it in warmth.

“Wait…stay,” she urged him with a smile. A look of surprise washed over him, he expected her to leave once she got the replacement. Maybe there was more to this after all? 

So he stayed, the two spent the remainder of the day together. Shopping, eating, the whole time chatting and giggling. Staying out until the black curtain covered the sky and the moon illuminated the path. Choso walked her home, seeing her sister glare through the window, and thanked her for the fun day. 

He had never felt this way before, the way he felt with her. It was all a new experience. A feeling he wanted to keep chasing, and hoped she felt the same way. Luckily, she did.

Over the next few months, their relationship blossomed. Spending every waking moment together when they weren't working. Neither of them spoke much about their jobs, it didn’t seem important to ask and he didn’t want her involved in the dangerous daily life he deals with. All that mattered was each other. Going on dates to coffee shops, restaurants and movie theaters. Each more exciting than the last. 

They never put a label on their relationship, but Choso knew he was madly in love with her. Already imagining a future, her as his wife. He knew it was too soon, but he knew what he wanted. Her. 

Neither of them had explained their relationship to their siblings yet. She didn’t seem all that interested in telling her twin. Her sister who seemed to form a hateship with Choso the day they met. The closer she got to Choso, the less time she spent with Lysithea. On the other hand, Choso knew he would tell Yuji eventually but was waiting for the right time. His younger brother is getting sent on lots of missions lately now that he is a second year, finding less and less time to spend with Choso.

Lilith was a list of firsts with Choso. His first kiss, first date, first love. Unlocking each moment was more exciting than the last. He even lost his virginity to her, an experience that left her equally as breathless as him. The two had an insatiable hunger for the other. Every night together always seemed to end with their legs tangled around each other. 

Choso laid on his bed, naked and still coming down from the high of his last orgasm. Sounds of cascading water can be heard from the shower down the hall. His heavy eyelids flutter closed as he awaits her return. Listening to Lilith’s soft hums as he drifts off to a light sleep.

He didn't realize how long he closed his eyes for until he heard the front door close followed by his brother’s booming voice.

“Hey Choso, I’m home I- oh.” He stops mid-sentence. Yuji wasn't supposed to be home tonight. He hears the gentle voice of Lilith chatting with Yuji, the reality of everything shocks him awake. Leaping out of bed and scrambling to pull some clothes on until he's stumbling down the hall. Spotting his love wearing the clothes she arrived in, hair slightly damp from her shower as she speaks to his brother casually.

“Y-Yuji!” He stutters, interrupting their conversation. “What are you doing home?”

“Choso! Can’t believe you were keeping her a secret from me!” He exclaims, obviously excited that his older brother found someone special. The younger brother smacked shy Choso on his back a few times. 

“Sorry Yuji, I was going to tell you. I swear.” Choso defends sheepishly. 

“Well, it was nice to meet you, I was just about to head home.” Lilith interrupts, pushing forward to grab her shoes. Eyeing Yuji a few times like she was searching for something. 

“No! Stay!” Yuji begs. “I got out of work early today and picked up some food. I think I have enough for all of us.” He holds up a plastic bag to show it off. “Let's watch a movie, I want to know all about the girl Choso has been ditching me for.” He continues to tease.

So she stayed, joining the brothers on the couch as they ate and watched some movie Yuji swears by. The whole night felt fun, his two favorite people under one roof. Yuji would ask questions about her and in turn, she asked about him. Some of it felt a little odd and uncomfortable to Choso. Lilith was vague with her personal details when his brother asked, yet she asked him countless unnecessary questions. All that Yuji happily answered. 

That was the last night Lilith felt truly normal.

The month following, Yuji always seemed to be the center of every conversation with her. Asking more oddly personal details and questioning his whereabouts, his daily schedule, his fears. It made Choso feel a little uneasy, so he kept the answers vague and would try to steer it elsewhere when possible. Whenever he didn't give the details she wanted, Choso would come home to her waiting at his front door. Asking to speak with Yuji.

It felt obsessive, and he wanted to confront her. But he hesitated. Maybe she just really wanted to be friends with his brother, maybe she knew just how important Yuji was to him so she was trying her best to get along and learn everything there is to know about him. It was kinda sweet when he thought about it that way. So he kept his mouth shut. 

The days where she spent every moment possible with Choso were long gone. Now making excuses of why she couldn’t come over or canceling dates last minute. Now ditching Choso for her sister when it used to be the opposite way. 

The last time she had sex with him also felt weird, forced and rushed. None of the passion it used to be, he was struggling to understand what changed. Once the heat of the moment was over, she crawled off of him, quickly putting her clothes back on. 

“You're leaving already?” He blurts out, unable to hide his disappointment at her hasty departure. Was it so wrong to want to spend more time with her? 

“Yeah, sorry love…gotta go” She shrugs him off, pulling her shirt over her exposed flesh. Do you even love me? He wants to ask, biting his tongue to keep the spiteful comment to himself. She looks over at him, seeing the conflict creasing his forehead. “Hey? How about date night this weekend? My treat.” She offers, her voice a bit softer than before. 

“Yeah, I would like that.” He sighs. Maybe then he could bring up his worries, express his feelings and talk things through. That's what you do in a healthy relationship after all.  He doesn’t want to keep feeling so distant with her. 

“Okay. Dinner at that place we like? Friday?” she smiles, the genuine smile he missed so much. 

“Yeah, sounds good” He exhales, a small smile of his own the mask his uncertainty. 

With that, she walks out of the bedroom. Choso pulls his own clothes back on, thinking she has exited the apartment already. A loud clatter tells him otherwise, he hurries out to the main area of the home. Seeing her bent over, a chair knocked to the ground and Yuji’s red hoodie on the floor. 

“Sorry” she says as she pinches the hood and picks the chair back up, placing the fallen clothing on the back of it. “Ran into it after I put my shoes on," she laughs. 

“Clumsy girl” Choso shakes his head with a smile, hugging her one last time before she leaves completely. 

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

Choso sits at the table of the Thai restaurant they love. He made sure to dress nicer than usual, his loose long locks being the cherry on top to complete the outfit. He sips his glass of water, staring ahead at the empty chain in front of him. She was late. 

“Sorry!” she apologizes profusely when she finally shows up, 30 minutes after the date should have started. She didn’t offer any type of excuse as she settled into the chair, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress. Her eyes avoid his as she reaches for a glass of water, taking a small sip.

“It’s fine,” Choso sighs. It wasn’t fine, but he wouldn’t let that show. Not when he practically had to pull her teeth to get some quality time with her. He didn’t want to push her away even more. 

“So, what do you want to order?” She asks, propping the menu up in front of her face. 

“The usual,” he mutters. He doesn't even need the menu, they order the same thing every time. She should know this. He rests his elbow on the table, placing his chin in his hand as he looks around the room. Other couples holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes. A sight that made his heart ache. He places his other hand on the table, sliding it across and hoping she will take the hint. She doesn't, still scanning the menu in front of her like she isn't about to order the peanut noodles with tofu.

Choso sighs and retracts his hand, feeling defeated once again. How could the girl he loved change so much? 

A vibrate in his pocket gets his attention, pulling his phone out. An incoming call from Yuji, odd. His brother knew Choso was going on a date tonight, he wouldn’t normally call if it wasn't important. He hesitates, knowing it’s rude to pick up while out with someone else. Sliding the phone back inside his pocket. Surly Yuji will text or call again if it’s urgent. 

Almost as quickly as he put it away, Yuji calls again. Now Choso is worried, scrambling to grasp the phone in a hurry to answer it. He’s about to press the answer-call button when his date’s voice cuts through to him.

“Don’t answer that.” She says sternly, setting the menu down and glaring at the still vibrating phone in his hand.

“Why? It might be something important, or maybe he got hurt.” Choso barks back, his fears escaping him in shrill whines.

“Am I not Important?” Her words stung hard, of course she is but so was Yuji. “You are supposed to be spending time with me. Your attention on me .” Her tone a harshness he isn’t used to, causing him to flinch. The phone silences again, missing the call a second time in a row. 

“Put the phone away” She tells him like a command, expecting Choso to obey like an obedient dog. 

“No,” he challenges. “Yuji is my brother, I need to make sure he's ok first.” Lilith swipes a hand forward across the table, trying to snatch the phone from his hand, but Choso is quicker. Leaning back and holding it above his head. By now, several patrons in the restaurant are watching their lover's quarrel. She retracts her hand as Choso shoots daggers across the table. What is wrong with her?

His phone vibrates twice more, alerting him of two incoming text messages. He quickly unlocks the device to read them. His heart pounding wildly with fear.

Yuji: [pinned location]

Yuji: BACKUP!!!!

His suspicions were correct. Yuji is in danger! His little brother needs help. The texts are vague, leaving Choso to wonder what he had got himself into. He jolts up from his chair, the sudden movement knocking it back to fall on the floor with a loud crash. Everyone in the restaurant stops eating to watch the scene he's causing. 

“I have to go,” is all he mutters, still angry about the way she has acted this evening. Her eyes on the floor, not even bothering to look at him as he departs. As he walks past, her hand catches his wrist, holding him with an almost crushing force. 

“Let go,” He growls out in warning. While he is mad, he still doesn't want to cause her harm. But if he has to pry her fingers off one by one, he will.

“Stay!” she growls back, once again in that hateful tone she has never used with him. This isn’t the woman he knows, isn’t the woman he loves. She is a stranger to him. Can’t even bother to look him in the eyes. He yanks his hand free, his raw strength easily outweighing hers. 

“Goodbye” he mutters, vein popping on his forehead as he strides for the door. Walking away from whatever their relationship is for good. Bursting through the front door and running to the location Yuji sent him. 

He made it to Yuji’s location in record time. The adrenaline and fear pushed him to move faster than ever before. He finds him in a dimly lit park, fighting a lithe figure cloaked in black. A hood up concealing their face. Yuji doesn’t appear to be in good shape, the younger sorcerer taking quite a beating as his opponent relentlessly lands attack after attack. Frozen in horror, he watches the enemy raise a sword, ready to deal the finishing blow. 

No! He can’t even bring himself to speak out. His body starts moving on his own, adjusting his stance and pressing his palms together. Posed to shoot a piercing blood attack before the blade can so much as touch his brother. He shoots the beam of blood, a powerful force that rips through the lower half of the attacker's body. A fatal wound no doubt. Their hand releases the sword, letting it crash to the ground with a metallic clang. Choso rushes forward to his brother’s side. 

The body of the attacker falls backward, hood flying off to reveal the snow-white hair and a familiar face. Lysithea? No. Even with the barely helpful flickering streetlights, Choso can see the shimmering gold in her irises. Lilith.

She was never the one at the restaurant with him tonight, the twins had swapped so she could go off on her own mission. One that involved killing his younger brother while he was distracted. A wave of emotions crashes over Choso. Anger, sadness, confusion. He can’t keep his tears at bay as he kneels down next to her, scanning her face. 

“Why? Why?” He repeats over and over, guilt swallowing him whole. He was happy to save his brother of course, but the shock of who he had to save him from started to dull his senses. He moves a gentle hand to cradle the back of her head, forcing her to look at him. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows hard, awaiting any type of answer. 

“I’m sorry…Choso.” She croaks between labored breaths, a hand pressed to her side that continues to leak fresh blood. She was way past the point of saving. “We deceived you. I used you.” 

The storm of anger grows in his stomach. Was anything real during these past few months? Every romantic adventure, every honeyed word, every time loving touch. Did it mean nothing to her? Just a way to gain his trust, to bring his guard down.

And he believed her. Everything felt so real with her, how could she fake it so well?

He’s unable to speak, still struggling to process the new information as it enters his brain. Acutely aware of his brother, injured, lifting himself off the ground and limping past. Speaking to someone who just arrived at the scene, another sorcerer for backup no doubt. Choso doesn't move, doesn’t even turn to see who arrived. Solely focused on watching the slow rise and fall of Lilith’s chest. 

“I’m sorry Choso,” She repeats sweetly with that happy smile she usually wears. She raised a bloody hand and pressed it to his cheek. He flinches at the contact. “I really did love you,” she whispered hoarsely, taking her last breath. Her cold hand falling limp away from his face, leaving a red imprint on his skin. 

The mental dam breaks, hurling Choso over the edge. Spiraling just as bad as he did in Shibuya when he tried killing Yuji. His stomach churning, he can't breathe. Someone was beside him trying to talk him down, but it wouldn't reach his deaf ears. The rest of the night a blur, feeling completely numb. 

The only memory he has during the ordeal was hearing her sister, Lysithea. She was detained by another sorcerer shortly after Choso fled the restaurant. He can’t remember how she looked at him, with her sister’s blood still stained on his face and hands. But the venom in her voice is something he would never forget.

“You're a monster.”

He convinced himself he deserved this. He doesn’t deserve happiness or love. He fell for the first woman who was kind to him, and this is where it took him. Down a path of pain and misery. He put his own brother in danger just for her, because he was so hopelessly in love with her. Maybe if this wasn’t his first relationship, if he wasn’t so naive, he would have seen the signs. But he didn’t. Playing a leading role that almost got Yuji taken from him, and playing the part of executioner to his first love.

Never again. To protect himself, to protect his only family left. He will never allow himself to love again. 

The following weeks meshed together for him. Days blending, not being able to tell apart if the sun was blazing or if the stars were shining. He drifted around the apartment like a ghost, all greasy hair and dark circles. Just a husk of his former self. It was starting to worry Yuji.

Lysithea was taken into custody, set to be questioned by the higher ups on their motive before she was also sentenced to death. Yuji filled Choso in on the details. Apparently, it took a great deal of torture for her to reveal anything, and she still didn’t give away everything they wanted. Some secrets left unanswered, clutching them to her grave. 

The twins were curse users who were working for Kenjaku. Their orders were simple: bring back Yuji Itadori, dead or alive. They used Choso, he was their ticket to get close to the younger brother. Stringing Choso along in their plot unknowingly. They had even placed a tracker in Yuji’s hoodie so they could bump into him with his guard down. Lilith was stronger, with a cursed technique more suited for combat. That is why she sent her identical twin to swap her place on the date, attempting to keep Choso distracted and away from saving his brother. 

To make matters worse, the higher-ups knew about this whole thing. They had the power to stop things before they got out of hand and chose not to. They couldn't care less if Sukuna’s vessel or the half-curse were taken out in the process. They just watched, waiting on standby as things unfolded.

The two things they really wanted to know, Kenjaku’s whereabouts and his next move, were something Lysithea refused to reveal. Leaving everyone at Jujutsu Tech clueless on how to proceed. 

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

A part of him died with her that day. It took him a long time to recover, to return to himself again. It wasn’t until he met you that he realized how love should feel. You made him feel whole again, piecing together the still shattered pieces of his heart. 

He leans forward in his chair, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you rest in the hospital bed. It has been 7 hours, and you still showed no sign of waking. 7 hours he stayed awake, fighting the burning in his tired eyes as he refused to leave your side. Machines and cords hooked to you, steady beeps filling the air. Fluorescent lights illuminating the room, highlighting the fresh bandages that wrap around your body. One of his large hands firmly wrapped around yours. 

He wishes he could take everything back. Never met you, never started seeing you. Every kiss, every shared moment, he would undo it all if it meant he didn’t have to watch you suffer before his eyes. If it wasn’t for him, you would never have ended up in this situation. You would be safe at home, drawing in your sketchbook or out with your friends. He has ruined you.

Shoko healed you to the best of her ability, using both her cursed technique and medical expertise. You were alive, you were stable, but still not awake. Even though the blood he transfused to you did help until Shoko arrived on scene, it was attacking your body. She wasn’t able to fully flush that from you. 

“It’s up to her now,” Shoko told him after leaving the operating room. “She has to win the fight on her own.”

“She will” Choso assured her, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. Even when everyone doubted if you could pull through or not, he refused to give up on you.

“Please, little flower.” Choso begged, scooting his chair closer to you. The legs screeching loudly against the hard tile floor. He rests his cheek on top of your chest, looking up at you with red and puffy eyes. “Wake up. Please wake up for me.”

dividers by @cyberangel-graphics

Taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @angel04-01

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read so far! With this chapter, we are now caught up to everything I have on my Ao3, which means it is time for new stuff to be released! The next chapter is written and will be uploaded sometime next week :)

[doumidas-whumps]

paper cut

masterlist (but this can be read alone)

cw: pet whump, starvation/restricted eating as punishment, a paper cut and a wee bit of blood

———

Sonny was curled up where he felt safest, in the corner of his shared room, partially hidden by the plain wooden dresser pushed up against the wall. Pressed against his spine was the pillow he propped up where the two walls met. It was worn and soft, much more comfortable than the peeling drywall. 

At the sudden pang in his stomach he curled tighter over himself, pressing his nose into the book on his knees. He breathed in the crisp smell of fresh paper and ink, waiting for the pain to pass. 

He knew the aching would stop altogether soon enough. Sonny tried anything he could to keep his mind off the hunger until then, including reading. 

He was working his way through one of the new books Mr. Oz had brought home, which had been abandoned on the table and forgotten about. The price sticker was still on the book when Sonny snagged it— $14.99. He had peeled it off with his thumbnail, leaving a small square of sticky residue that by now had picked up too much dust and lint to stick to anything else.

His master was always buying books but never seemed to read any of them, preferring to watch his TV shows. Sonny wondered what the point of it was, but it gave him enough reading material to stay entertained, so he didn’t complain. He didn’t think Mr. Oz even noticed whenever the books went missing, inconspicuously tucked into a pillowcase or under the neatly folded clothes in his drawer. He was careful not to bend the pages and placed each book on the bookshelf he was done with it, slid into its proper spot according to genre and author. (The shelf had been organized by size and color before Sonny got to it, which he couldn’t help but find both peculiar and amusing.) 

Sonny’s stomach settled, and he lifted his head from the pages. It was better to get his reading in now before the fog of hunger really set in, which usually happened after a day or two— it made it harder to focus on the words or use his brain for much of anything.

He had just turned the page when the door creaked open. He didn’t look up, figuring it was just Port coming to check on him and tell him to stop sitting around. 

“What are you doing?”

Sonny’s stomach dropped at the same time his eyes snapped up. That wasn’t Port’s voice— it was his master’s, and he was standing in the doorway, laser-focused on Sonny. It took only a few moments for Mr. Oz to stride further into the room, closer to where he was cowering in the corner.

It felt wrong to see his master standing in the middle of the bedroom, with the backdrop of faded blue walls and singular painting on the wall. It felt dangerous. Mr. Oz had never come in here before, so why was he here now?

He didn’t wait for Sonny to answer, not that it wasn’t obvious. “I don’t remember giving you permission to read.”

The book burned in Sonny's grasp, feeling like contraband. Caught red-handed with a book that didn’t belong to him, reading during time that should be spent doing something useful.

He swallowed, willing his voice to come to him. “M’sorry, sir.”

“I didn’t even know you could read,” Mr. Oz muttered. He didn’t acknowledge Sonny’s apology, suddenly dropping to a kneel in front of him. Seeing his master kneeling before him struck Sonny as wrong wrong wrong, almost in the same way it felt wrong to even see him in here.

He had the urge to adjust his position and kneel like any well-trained pet should, embarrassed by the unnecessary luxury of the pillow behind his spine. At the same time, he didn’t want to move any more than he had to, as if Mr. Oz was some sort of predator animal and the slightest movement would set him off. 

Mr. Oz snatched the book from Sonny’s hands, and Sonny winced at the bright sting of a paper cut on the sensitive pad of his thumb. 

“Seriously," Mr. Oz said. "Can you even go one day without pissing me off?” He shut the book with a clap (losing Sonny’s place) and turned it over, looking at the cover. He huffed. “This is the book I bought yesterday.”

Sonny was silent. His master looked to him, head still angled down. The dark eyes staring at Sonny from under his brows made him look incredibly sinister. He raised the book a little higher, motioned with it. “Why did you steal this?”

“I— I didn’t steal it, sir, I was borrowing it.” 

His eyes narrowed, and Sonny cringed in anticipation of being struck. “Well, don’t you ever ‘borrow’ something from me again,” he said. “Not without my permission.” His hand made no move to hit him.

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I won’t.” Sonny’s heart was pounding, hard enough that he could even feel the pulse of it in his thumb where it was sliced. 

Mr. Oz’s eyes dropped back to the book. Sonny knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet, but not having that stare on him made him feel minutely better. 

Feeling his heartbeat in his finger was becoming slightly nauseating. He raised his hand to his mouth and sucked the tip of his thumb, the coppery taste of blood spreading on his tongue. He wasn’t sure where the instinct came from, but it lessened the sting. 

He immediately regretted it, however, as it alerted Mr. Oz, who snatched Sonny's wrist and yanked his hand away from his mouth. 

“Don’t do that,” he snapped.

“Sorry!" Sonny gasped. "Sorry, sir.”

Sonny could feel how wide his eyes were as Mr. Oz’s grip traveled to the meat of Sonny’s hand, then further, wrapping around his thumb. It was weird, Sonny’s comparatively small thumb squeezed between a few of Mr. Oz’s thick fingers. Sonny’s four other fingers trembled and curled.

The small white cut marring the swirl of his fingerprint turned red before their eyes. Mr. Oz squeezed tighter and watched with a strange intensity as a tiny, bright red bead of blood formed. Sonny’s stomach flipped.

With one hand, Mr. Oz opened the book to the last page. He maneuvered Sonny’s bloody thumb and pressed it to the eggshell paper, right underneath the ink of the final paragraph. His thumb lifted, leaving behind a small red dot, even smaller than a pinky nail. 

Sonny’s eyes darted between the page and Mr. Oz’s face, which was turned towards the mark he made in the book. He found himself too dazed to form a single coherent thought.

Mr. Oz closed the book and released Sonny’s thumb. Sonny pulled it to his chest, cradling it with his other hand. 

“No more books,” Mr. Oz said.

He rose to his full height and left the room, regarding Sonny no further. 

———

taglist: @pumpkin-spice-whump @string-of-broken-hearts @technicallydeliciousdeer @ziptiesnfries

[echo-goes-mmm]

Comfort Object

My Writing Masterpost

Juno Collection Masterpost

Previous

Companion Part by Chai

Warnings: slavery

Takes place about fourish days after Regress

Master was working, and hadn’t ordered Juno to come with him.

He was grateful for the break. 

Truthfully, he’d been avoiding Master. Dreading the punishment he would get for disobeying his wishes.

He rubbed his thumb over the brass tag of his collar. He’d taken it out of the drawer Master had put it in months ago, and immediately felt so much better now that the familiar leather was around his neck.

It was evening, and his eyelids were heavy. Juno yawned, pressing further back into his kennel.

His brain was slipping again; as it often did at night. It was an inconvenience he’d had to learn to deal with, only fixed by sleep.

But Master was still awake, working, and Juno couldn’t rest until Master was asleep.

Juno clutched his bear, trying to stay the tremble in his hands.

The seams needed to be redone. It was made of tiny scraps of fabric, and needed careful resewing often.

Juno wasn’t stupid enough to ask for more fabric.

The seams would have to wait, because he was a terrible sewer after eight in the evening. His hands shook too much at night for the proper stitches, never mind the accidental pricking from the needle. 

He let out a shuddering breath. 

Master stayed up late often. Sometimes it would be midnight until he was finished for the day, and by that time Juno’s brain was worse than mush. Everything made him flinch; even the whisper of curtains startled him.

Hopefully it wouldn’t be so bad tonight.

___________________

Master entered the room, and Juno put aside his bear to greet him. But Master wasn’t alone.

Duchess something-or-other- he couldn’t remember her name- was on his arm. Or he was on hers.

Her eyes met his, and he shrank back under her gaze. 

The duchess was one of Master’s advisors. The oldest one, elderly, and he couldn’t remember what her specialty was.

But now she was a guest in Master’s rooms.

Juno stepped away, watching her from the corner of his eye as he put the kettle on the fire. It was his duty to serve guests.

Tea was always a safe bet.

He stoked the flames, coaxing them with shaking hands to give off more heat.

Master sat in his armchair, and the duchess stood beside him.

She was a small woman, only an inch taller than him, but her eyes on the back of his neck made him feel even smaller.

Juno shuddered. 

The duchess spoke quietly to Master, and Juno was too focused listening for the kettle boiling that he couldn’t hear her words.

He took the kettle off the flames before it could whistle. Master preferred it that way.

Juno carefully filled the two tea cups with the steaming water. They seemed so much smaller and fragile at night. Like they shrank just to mock him, or to trick him into spilling.

His hands shook as he carried the tea tray over to them, the cups and saucers rattling.

His face burned in shame, and he set the tray as carefully as he could on the near table. The duchess’s eyes followed him.

Then he fled as much as he dared, kneeling next to his crate in the corner. His fingers tugged on the tag of his collar, and he breathed out in relief.

Please don’t look at me- just ignore me-

“Dear,” the duchess said.

Juno looked up, wincing.

“Come here, please.”

He waited half a moment, but Master didn’t say anything to suggest he shouldn’t listen. Juno crawled forward, terror washing over him like the cold sea. What was she going to do to him?

“I’m afraid His Majesty isn’t feeling well.”

Juno’s eyes flicked to Master, fast enough to almost dizzy him.

Master hadn’t seemed right the last few days. And Juno hadn’t done anything.

“He needs rest,” she told him. “Rest and comfort. Would you please watch him? I’d be ever so grateful.”

Juno nodded. He could do that. He should have been doing that-

He crawled to sit at Master’s side, hesitantly placing his head in Master’s lap. Master always liked that, even if now it made Juno’s nerves quiver.

Master’s hand stroked his hair.

“Thank you, Juno,” Master muttered.

Guilt formed a lump in his throat. He should have been better. He needed to be better.

He was Master’s comfort toy, just like how the scrap teddy was Juno’s.

Juno needed to be a better bear.

“Thank you, dear,” said the duchess. “Make sure he gets to bed soon, yes?”

He nodded again, and the duchess left, the door closing quietly behind her.

Master kept petting his hair, and Juno closed his eyes and tried not to think.

He was still waiting to be punished.

taglist: @haro-whumps @paintedpigeon1 @phoenixpromptsandstuff @tianablackwell @starsick1979

[friendfromdsmp]

“We don’t fight fair.”

Telemachus’ eyes widen in realisation

“Stop-!”

The suitor’s cruel smirk widens as he cups a hand next to his mouth, his voice piercing the haunting quiet around the darkened palace

“Brothers, we’ve got company, and he’s made a grave mistake!”

Cut to Odysseus, his eyes moving towards the distant call being his only reaction. The distraction doesn’t save his target; he looses his arrow just the same, ignoring the cry of its victim as they collapse

“Left the weapons room unlocked, and now they’re ours to take!”

Tch. Well that’s annoying, but he supposes he can work with it. It certainly isn’t going to stop him from trying, anyway. He begins moving towards the weapons room, reflecting on his previous work while these wretches had been foolishly plotting. How had he forgotten to lock the room? He could’ve sworn he got it

“Brothers, come and arm yourselves, there’s a chance for us to win!”

He shot down a few more suitors as he went. They were flocking to the call like dogs to their master. They really thought they could defeat him just because they had their weapons back? It was almost pitiful, really. Almost. But like it had been for him once, a long time ago, their hubris would be their downfall. Did they really think a few weapons could save them now? What advantage could they possibly have?

“We can still defeat the king if we all attack the prince!”

His eyes widened, heart dropping into the pit of his stomach like a stone in a well. No… no!

“Where is he?! Where is he?!”

He broke out into a sprint, searching desperately for his boy

“Capture him, he’s our greatest chance!”

He couldn’t let them find him first, he just couldn’t

“Get off me! Get off me!”

His breath hitched. Was that his son’s voice? It was the first time he’d heard it. He couldn’t let it be the last, especially not when he was crying out desperately

“Fight ‘til the prince can barely stand!”

He no longer cared for stealth; his footsteps thundered down the halls of the palace as quick as lightning. Charged, deadly

“Hold him down! Hold him down!”

They got him. Oh gods, please don’t let him be hurt…

“Make the king obey our command!”

There they were! Just up ahead, an entire group of them trying to pin someone down. His poor boy, so densely surrounded that Odysseus couldn’t even make him out

“Hold him down! Hold him down!”

He discarded his bow for now, instead drawing his sword

“Cause if he won’t, I’ll break the kid’s hands!”

That damned dog had his own sword to Telemachus’ throat. His boy was on his knees, and now that the sea of suitors was parting, he could just vaguely make him out under the blanket of the dark. Small, thin, but fuelled with determination that shone through his stance even in defeat. As much as Odysseus longed to see his face, even if only a vague silhouette, he was covered by a helmet that bore a striking resemblance to Athena’s

“Got him.”

The smugness in the suitor’s voice drove him over the edge; he stabbed. Not through the head or the heart - this filth didn’t deserve the luxury of a swift death. No, he was going to make him regret so much as thinking of touching his son. And he would have to live out every torturous moment until the gods themselves deemed the punishment too cruel

He knew exactly one thing about the gods, and he knew it from experience; they didn’t believe in too much cruelty

Okay so I get that the intention of the song Odysseus was that we see monster!Odysseus from the perspective of the suitors to highlight how fucking terrifying this man is

But I really wanna see an AMV from Odysseus’ perspective from the point of the suitors attacking Telemachus

[roadimusprime]

Google, how do I motivate myself to go to work?

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

I am involved in THE stupidest situation

[whumpity-whumpwhump]

Failed escape attempts are great and all but you know what’s even better? Failed escape attempts that get civilians involved.

The whumpee nearly escaped and yes they will suffer for it but you know what else will happen? The whumper can kill whatever poor innocent soul was trying to help whumpee. And they can make the whumpee watch as they do it, making sure that they know that this wouldn’t have happened if not for them. That this person is only dead because the whumpee tried to escape and they tried to help them.

The whumpee then gets to spend some wonderful moments stirring in guilt and self loathing, along with anger at whumper.

Bonus points if the next time they have a chance to escape or alert someone they don’t. They stay silent and pliable as whumper guides them through a train station. They barely even need the threat of the knife in their back to comply, all too aware that whumper won’t hesitate to kill anyone who helps them. Or they go out of their way to assure the police officer that pulled them over that everything is fine, they haven’t seen anyone or anything suspicious. They’re just on a trip with their friends.