#I absolutely devoured the first book though. like in one day

[kevingansey]

Rereading In the Company of Shadows. I forgot how many times Vivienne tells Boyd his existence is unimportant and pointless 🚶🏻

[nottswitch]

doll.

summary: you had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section. however, the outcome might not be something you had originally planned.

pairing: tom riddle x fem!reader

warning: 18+ smut, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), throatfucking, gagging, mentions of nausea (no actual vomiting), slight choking, orgasm denial? ignoring?? I think that’s all, if I missed anything, let me know!

wc: 3.3k

a/n: listen. listen. this man has been in my head for the last month, and recently he decided to come into my dream? that’s just rude, so that’s what you get as revenge. this fic is also a result of my pent up frustration at life rn, so do with that what you will. also, this is my first time ever writing smut and writing for tom, so pls let me know if it’s any good and if I shall continue on the path. enjoy <3

You had finally done it.

You had finally convinced Tom to take you to the Restricted Section with him. After the whole month of begging almost every day, he agreed, albeit awfully begrudgingly, but you were on cloud nine nonetheless. He told you some stuff about his late-night visits to the library from time to time, but you were always burning for more information, considering your own striving for knowledge. He always said the same thing, that he appreciated your effort, but if you could stop trying to make him abuse his Prefect’s power and possibly lose himself the position, it would make both of your lives easier. But you persevered and were finally reaping the rewards, sitting next to him at the table, with a stack of ancient books in front of you, sometime far after midnight.

What you didn’t expect, though, was how absolutely fucking irresistible he would look merely existing. The books were taken out, the first one was flipped through and now they sat on the table, long forgotten, as you just stared at Tom, almost devouring him with your eyes. To be fair, the sight of him was truly divine – his face calm and concentrated, hovering over a particular book he had been studying for the last week, distracted simply to switch to his journal and take another note. His hands resting on the table, holding a quill, scribbling down lines with his exquisite handwriting… They were sinful, those hands. You had to get ahold of at least one. His left hand was in the process of mindlessly caressing the corner of the book with his middle finger when your hand slowly creeped towards it. You lightly brushed your fingertips along the outer part of his hand. No reaction. You started drawing circles along the whole area, skimming along his wrist and thumb. Nothing. You decided to go further and began intertwining your fingers together.

Finally. A sigh.

And he didn’t even look. His hand grabbed yours and put it away, back on the table. And nothing, absolutely nothing changed about the focused expression painted on his face. That was really annoying, but also… hot, in a way? Almost as if he was playing hard to get. You were already aroused just by looking at him, but his silent rejection made you nearly desperate. Your panties were pretty much soaked, and he, quite literally, barely lifted a finger.

Before you could gain control over your hand, it moved dangerously close to his thigh. You put your hand a little above his knee and gradually advanced higher and higher up his leg. Only when you were caressing his inner thigh did you hear another sigh. Tom raised an eyebrow and turned his head a couple centimeters in your direction, his eyes still on the book.

“What?” he asked, the tone of his voice only ever so slightly irritated. His composure remained intact. He wasn’t even fazed by the fact that you were so close to grabbing him through his pants.

“You look so handsome like that, you know?”

You made your best attempt to lace your voice with saccharine seduction. Your hand kept stroking his inner thigh, inching further and further up with each stroke. The only thing he did was thoughtlessly nod, as if he forgot about your existence immediately after asking the question.

You started getting frustrated and even more turned on. You moved your chair closer to his and began caressing his shoulder, brushing your fingers along his neck when they reached it. You slowly moved down to his back and arm, your nails applying some pressure on his body so that he could feel them scratching his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. It had always been one of the rare things to grab his attention, and it worked this time as well. He sighed, closed the book with his finger between the right pages and turned his head to you. His expression was that of mild annoyance, his eyebrow raised again.

“What exactly was the reason you’d been begging me to bring you here? Would you care to remind me?”

You lowered your gaze and your hand on his shoulder stopped, but just for a second. Then you continued, thinking that there was no return at that point and at least you had a chance, now that his attention was on you.

“Knowledge,” you admitted.

“And what kind of knowledge are you trying to soak up right now?”

His eyes flicked towards your hand still massaging his shoulder. You rolled your eyes and shifted in your chair at the mention of the word “soak”. But it was time for drastic measures. You stood up to crouch next to him, so that your mouth was right at the same level as his ear. Your hand moved to his inner thigh again, traveling up to his crotch and back. You felt him harden under your touch and the mere fact brought you immense amounts of satisfaction.

“Come on, Tom, love, we both know what I want right now,” you started whispering, your lips nearly touching his ear. “You. I want you. On the table, on the floor, against the wall, it literally doesn’t matter. If you don’t take me right here, right now, I will die.”

The look on his face didn’t change in the slightest when he grabbed your throat with his right hand and guided you from his left to his front, tightly squeezed between him and the desk. You stayed in your half-crouched position, trying your hardest not to tremble in the knees. The corner of Tom’s mouth lifted ever so slightly while he silently studied your face and body. His grip on your throat tightened when he lifted up his hand, causing you to straighten your half-bent legs. He shot a commanding look at his lap and, guided by his hand, you climbed there, sitting down and sighing as you could finally relax your already aching knees. But your state of relaxation didn’t last, as he abruptly spread his legs, causing yours to shoot open as well and your ass to be left hanging in the air. In order not to fall to the ground, you had to lean back on the desk, propping your front upwards, towards him.

His hand moved from your throat to the hem of your skirt. With quick and methodic movements Tom rolled it up, tucking it behind the top part of the skirt, and spread your thighs even further with a firm press of his thumbs. You felt a heatwave of embarrassment wash over you as he evaluated the state of your panties, an amused smirk tugging the corner of his mouth. A spot of wetness was wonderfully visible and on display. His eyebrow went up and down as he looked up at you, brushing his thumb in a feather-like touch along the still covered surface of your cunt. You threw your head back, partly because you didn’t want to meet his eyes, partly because your own eyes rolled to the point you couldn’t see in front of you and you could barely hold in a moan as myriads of goosebumps spread throughout your body just from this simple touch.

“Look at me.”

Tom clearly didn’t appreciate the lack of eye contact. You clenched your jaw and looked back, met by the sheer intensity of his stare. The stare that had all the power in the world to melt you into a puddle at any given moment. He brushed his other thumb over the same place again, watching your face carefully as you tried to keep your composure. Didn’t help. Your bit your bottom lip, but a sound escaped you nonetheless. Tom’s smirk widened.

“Let’s see,” he quietly muttered, pulling your panties to the side. Your cunt was already slicked and throbbing, which was even more embarrassing, because he looked like he was an inspector evaluating the goods. The smirk faded from his lips as his finger rubbed against your folds, barely spreading them apart and not reaching the clit to provide the much-needed sensation. You couldn’t help throwing your head back again, almost drawing blood from the pressure of your teeth against your bottom lip.

“I said. Look. At. Me.”

Tom uttered every word in a clear, emotionless voice, but it was the very thing that meant trouble. You looked back and the intensity of his stare only grew exponentially. He reached your face with his hand and grabbed your cheeks between his thumb and index finger, squeezing them, so that your lips formed into some sort of a pout.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. Keep looking until I say you can stop.”

You quickly nodded, intimidated by his frigid dominance. His hand went back to your cunt. He slid his fingers deeper between the folds, lightly brushing against the clit. Your hips jerked up as they tried to follow the path of his fingers, but his other hand held you firmly in place, not allowing a single extra bit of pleasure. He slid them back once more and then the middle one slipped inside you, up to the very base. A jolt of pleasure shook your body, as strong as the feeling of disappointment when he quickly removed the digit. You tried to whine but another look from him quickly shut you up. Tom raised his hand, rubbed his index, middle finger and thumb together and then separated; a sticky string of your wetness was a connection between them and a blatant manifestation of your arousal.

“Soaked. Just like I thought.”

The slightest hint of a smirk returned to his lips as his fingers reached your mouth.

“Open.”

Each of his words was stern, not leaving room for any disobedience. You opened your mouth and Tom pushed two fingers inside, pressing at the entrance of your throat and instantly making you gag. He kept his fingers there for a moment while you clutched the desk behind you to stop your body from shaking as you kept gagging, but not daring to push his hand away. A couple seconds later, when he saw you were on the verge of giving up, his fingers slowly traveled back out of your mouth. You tightly wrapped your lips around them and sucked your slick off, knowing that it was exactly what he wanted you to do. After leaving your mouth his fingers cupped your chin, as his thumb glided over your lips, covering them with the rest of your wetness.

“Now,” Tom leaned back on the chair, looking you up and down, his voice suddenly smooth and enticing, but his gaze still intense, “I see you are rather bored here with me, doll.”

When he said the word, you knew that the next part wouldn’t be so much for your pleasure as it would be completely for his. It wasn’t a meaningless pet-name for him, no, it held value. It meant that you would be treated exactly like a doll: mindless and limp. He saw your eyes widen at “doll” and a faint smirk was on his lips again: he was aware of the connotation and so were you.

“And to save you the trouble of a wandering mind, I am pleased to announce that I have a much better use for a doll like you.”

He waited to continue for a minute, letting you absorb the information and your thoughts fill with speculations. His hand brushed a stray hair from your forehead, him seeming just like a caring boyfriend for a moment.

“Kneel.”

You slowly stood up from his lap, feeling your stretched out limbs relax and almost fail to hold you up, and lowered down to your knees in front of him. From this point of view, he was even more attractive, compellingly so; it was worth it standing on your knees on the cold stone floor of the Restricted Section just for this sight alone. He slowly started unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, almost as if he wanted you to enjoy the show. You drank up every single movement of his slender fingers as he pulled down his pants and underwear just enough for his cock to bounce right out, against his lower abdomen.

“You like what you see, doll?”

You fervently nodded, your mouth salivating just at the thought of being able to suck him off right then. He saw the fire in your eyes and scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is no ordinary pleasure that I want from you now, doll.”

He beckoned you to move closer and you eagerly did, your face just mere centimeters away from his length. Your breath quickened as you thought about the implication of “no ordinary pleasure”.

“Now, give me your hands, doll.”

You lifted your hands and he wrapped his belt around them, tightening it to the point when it started to hurt and you knew it would leave deep marks on your wrists. Then, you tried to position yourself in a way that would allow your hands to support you, but you could only reach the floor with your fingertips.

Tom ran his fingers through your hair, in a touch almost gentle and soothing, and then suddenly yanked you up and forward, straight onto his cock, thrusting his whole length into your mouth, the tip reaching the very back of your throat. You lifted on your knees and violently gagged at the feeling, your hands inadvertently flying up, trying to push back, but the belt didn’t let you make any substantial impact. He held you firmly in place while you kept quivering and making gagging sounds, him clearly enjoying seeing you in this state. Slowly, you adjusted to his cock filling your whole mouth and your body went weak as you lowered back down, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You tried to look up with just your eyes, not being able to move your head; it hurt too much, so you lowered your gaze, the only thing in front of you being his lower abdomen. As you tried to shift in your place, you felt a whiff of the chilly library air against your soaked panties and the sensation drove you nearly through the roof.

“Now, doll, you have to stay like that while I keep going with my work. A fair warning out of the goodness of my heart: it might take a while.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that this could continue for another hour or two. Your head was held back by the edge of the desk cutting into your nape, so you weren’t able to move at all. You were completely at his mercy, he could do literally whatever he wanted, but he chose not to do anything. As soon as he let go of your hair, he went straight back to his book, taking notes as if nothing had happened.

Time went by painfully slowly. The constant feeling of him in your mouth and throat overwhelmed you to the point when you started to twitch at times, shifting your weight to get any semblance of friction against your aching core. The position you were in didn’t allow that at all, your head being stuck firmly between the desk and his body. The most irritating thing about the whole ordeal was the fact that Tom ignored you completely, fully absorbed in whatever kind of studying he was doing. You tried to get his attention a couple of times by producing incoherent sounds and trying to tighten your lips around him, but you quickly understood that there was no use. You tried counting seconds and minutes, but your mind gave up when you reached fifteen. The only things you could think about were his cock and getting something, any type of pressure on your clit. Your wetness soaked through your panties and, you were pretty sure, was dripping down your thighs, creating a small puddle on the floor underneath you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed before you finally heard the book shut. You almost shuddered at the sound, your pupils dilating and your breath accelerating, probably close to the speed of light. Tom leaned on the back of the chair, looking down at you with one of his smirks of the devil himself. His hand ruffled your hair, pulling at it to slightly lift your head up and shove it back down, as if he was trying to gauge if you were still alive. At the sound of your muffled groan he raised his eyebrows, amused.

“The doll has some life left in her. What a pleasant surprise. You look perfectly splendid like that.”

You groaned again, the sound coming from somewhere inside your chest. You desperately wanted to look up, but your head was still pressed in its place. Tom scoffed, messing with your hair once again.

“The time has come for some more… customary activities of ours, don’t you think?”

As if you could answer. You tried to nod, but the edge of the desk only further cut into your nape, making you wince in pain.

“The doll seems to agree. Pleasure.”

He moved the chair a bit further from the desk. With more space you could finally properly breath, so you shifted in your place, your stiff legs aching as you had to follow the movement of the chair. Tom’s hand gripped your hair and pulled you upwards, releasing almost the entirety of his length from your mouth apart from the tip. The sudden emptiness made your throat clench and you felt nausea building up rapidly, although the feeling had no time to develop as you were quickly shoved down again, your nose nearly crashing against his body. Tears gathered in your eyes sprayed all over, your lips stretched even more than they already were and you prayed the corners of your mouth wouldn’t crack. The tension building up in your core was begging to be released as you were being thrusted up and down again and again, the tip of his cock stroking the back of your throat again and again, causing you to produce the most sinful gagging sounds known to man. You tried to balance on your tied up hands, but your fingertips just barely brushed against the floor as your whole body moved in unison with your head. Tom barely made any sound, a heavy breath occasionally escaping his lips. He threw his head back, his eyes closed, while you took him whole at the mercy of his hand.

At last, you felt his thrusts speeding up, sensing his release. After a couple of especially violent ones he let out a quiet groan, and you felt his hot semen filling you up and spilling down your throat as he pressed you all the way down. Your breaths were heavy but barely audible, his cock still stuffing your mouth to the brim. Tom heaved a deep sigh as you felt his grip on your hair loosening. You didn’t dare to move until he pulled you up, lifting your head with his finger on your chin, looking straight into your eyes. Your vision was blurry from tears, more of them running down your face and dripping down to the floor as they slid off your jawline. Your lips were swollen and you couldn’t properly close your mouth yet, panting in quick and dry breaths. Tom smirked, taking in the sight of your utter destruction.

“A broken doll. Truly a sight to behold.”

He leaned back on the chair again, pulling up his underwear and zipping the pants. Then, he bent down, taking your hands gently in his and undoing the belt. His fingers made their way across the deep red marks on your wrists, caressing them with utmost attention.

“You have been a very good doll for me tonight. Now, what do you say to spending the night in my dorm? The doll has to receive her rightful reward.”

my masterlist

[impishjesters]

I’m devouring the nonsexual intimacy with Jax dawg- oml we eatin good

How would Jax be with an s/o who enjoys leaning on him? I adore physical touch but sometimes if I can’t use my arms it feels like I’m trapped, so it’s nice to just glomp people lmao (s/o is ticklish too- Jax would have a field day with that one)

If you need a little more substance, maybe s/o like randomly serenading Jax in private! Like those old 80s jazz love songs (complete with slow dancing)

Thank you and have a wonderful day/night!

Leaning on one another

warning(s): none unless you count jazz note(s): I joke about it but I actually quite like jazz, maybe not all jazz but it's definitely not the worst type of music. I'm looking at you country music.... A/N: I included a bonus because I thought the idea of cornering this man in his room with jazz music was absolutely hilarious lol

Jax doesn’t have a physical battery per say, but there is definitely a limit to how much he can tolerate at a given time—whether it’s in public or private.

He doesn’t like sitting still for long periods of time and there’s a limit to how vulnerable he’s willing to be at any given time if at all.

So having a s/o that understands this and goes for physical touch like leaning on him or something that’s not inherently seen as romantic and mushy is a win in his book.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves you but it’s a lot and he’s not really used to it. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact you two are dating, that you like him.

He’s all for being leaned on or having you loosely hang off him in public, sometimes regardless of what side of him you’re leaning on, he might lean back.

Little shit might only catch himself though if you can’t hold him/he catches you off guard and/or lose your footing, he’ll make the attempt to stick an arm out and catch you—but whether you crash or not depends on your own reflexes. (he doesn’t make the rules, sorry babe)

If you wanna be held but not feel restricted, as long as he’s not doing anything he’ll let you stand in front of him, lean back, and drape his arms over you—totally not to just lean on you and be an absolute menace.

In fact, that’s probably how he found out you were ticklish—and that knowledge is far too much power in his hands.

Sure he can do it whenever he wants, but he tends to save it for other unsuspecting situations—like if the two of you get into a little spat and you’re not speaking to him—two can play that game.

He won’t completely restrict your arms but he’ll throw his arms around you and tickle you, it doesn’t always work to ease whatever the spat was about.

That said Jax doesn’t do it when the situation is serious and calls for an actual discussion, he knows at least that much when it comes to reading the room. (That and you’ve probably gotten onto him about it at least once before…)

He also may or may not have tickled you to get you up, you don’t need to sleep but you can still lie down and whatnot. And if you aren’t budging? Tickle time baby.

Bonus

Jax isn’t a dancer by any means, so when he opens the door to his room to find you standing there with music that’s—very much not the repetitive cartoony music that usually plays in this hellscape—he’s a little surprised.

The first question out of his mouth is:

“Is that fucking jazz?”

“No, just normal jazz.”

That response gets a good hearty chuckle out of him.

When you try pulling him in for a dance he’s a little nervous though it comes off as looking irritated, he’s uh, never danced to jazz of all things let alone with someone else.

You’re gonna have to take the reigns on this one, regardless of whether you can dance or not, you started this.

Despite the fact it is jazz playing, he enjoys the situation as a whole, your weight leaning on him the subtle holding one another. And the fact it’s in private? He can comfortably(ish) let himself feel a little vulnerable around you with no risk of having an audience.

Regardless of the fact it’s jazz, if you happen to sing along he considers himself impressed and will jokingly (read: obnoxiously) comment how he feels utterly serenaded, completely wooed, absolutely swooning—it goes on until you stop him, please stop him he’ll just keep going.

[lookahotman]

Tied Up!

Sylus x Female reader

My contribution to the sub Sylus trope. I am so done with reading stuff where he would dominate the MC like come on y'all, have you not seen his cards, he would be the perfect Malewife.

tags: NSFW (It's not full on sex but whatever), Dom!reader, sub!character, sylus is handcuffed (from the bond moment),use of swear words(oh no!),dry humping, clothed sex

Also, this is the first time I have written anything, even smut, I promise I write better than this but you can also see this as me tweaking out cus there is not even sub love and deepspace content out there. Oh and this is also in first person POV cus I don't see that either.

One of these days I will surely kill Sylus.

The guy has made me run around for the past day just to find some stupid brooch I will need to attend the auction for protocores. He could have just put it in my hand and saved us both the trouble but no, everything seems to be a fucking game for him.

I have searched every nook and cranny, being caught by Sylus four times in the process, and yet that brooch seems to be nowhere. I am so exhausted, Time is a luxury right now, and I am running out of ideas for all the possible hiding spots

Does this brooch even exist or is he just fucking with me?

After Sylus throws me out of his room, claiming that he is 'going to bed', I just sit down and start doodling shit.

"Bastard! Now I get it. He never intended to make a deal with me in the first place!" I scream as I scratch the demonic sylus doodle I drew when suddenly Luke and Kieran start speaking from a distance, making me turn towards them.

"you're pulling your hair out over this, huh? If you want to do something, maybe we can help you." Oh please enlighten me, what could this guy possibly do? Steal the brooch from Sylus? He is literally his henchman. "what do you mean?" I ask, biting back my insults.

"if you want to conquer our boss's heart, you'll have to use a different approach. Luke then picks up a book and starts reading something "For some people, they get bored once they have everything. So only those who dare to challenge their authority can catch their interest."

Oh? Would Sylus really like that? Now I get curious as I walk over to the twins and take the book called 'Humanity and Conquer' from his hands.

"When you're dealing with such a person, you bow down and submit or take them out in one go. In other words…"

I raise an eyebrow at both of them. "Go on." the twins gave each other a glance and scream, startling me. "YOU STRIKE WHEN THEY ARE OFF GUARD!"

"Boss is the least guarded when he's sleeping, you only have one shot so don't waste this chance, just do it." Luke says, tossing me some evol sealing handcuffs and a Tranquilizer gun. He is right, My time limit is close to its end, I have to act now.

And that's how I end at up in Sylus's bedroom at midnight. Currently I am starting to have a lot of thoughts as I sit next to him and watch him sleep. "Man's gonna kill me the moment I pull this shit" "COME ON Y/N you are already here you can absolutely NOT back out now" "That's a very uncomfortable position to sleep in is he stupid he is going to get neck cramps when he wakes up" "He looks very hot while sleeping." Fuck. Denying it is probably of no use at this point. Something about Sylus makes me fucking weak in the knees. Is it his voice? His ridiculously handsome face? His body? Or the way he tests my damn patience. I am not sure. Seeing him like this though, how calmly he is breathing. How his exposed chest keeps expanding as he inhales, how those pecs flex while he is doing that, how vulnerable he is looking right now, It's stirring something within me. I want to devour him.

sylus…sylus? I slowly call him, ensuring he is asleep. This is not the time to be thinking about bull shit like that. get your head back in the game y/n. The aforementioned doesn't make any noise, completely oblivious of my presence as he keeps on sleeping, I take this chance and cuff his hand to the bed. "This is exactly what you get for all the terrible things you do." There. I cuffed his hand. Now what? Before my hand could even touch his body, he grabs my wrist and brings me closer to his face. Shocking me. I probably look like a deer caught in the headlights right now.

"Showing up uninvited at this hour… want me to tell you a bedtime story?" Wow. What a cocky bastard. well, not for long. "Don't talk to me in that tone mister, if anything you should be the one to figure out what's going on here, these handcuffs nullify a person's evol for an hour, so no matter how powerful you are, you are helpless as of right now." I say as I pin him down on the bed, his hand still cuffed to the nightstand. From here I can see how Sylus's chest starts falling and rising a bit faster than usual. Maybe I should tease him a bit.

"Really? what do you plan to do then since I have become your prey?" Did he actually just ask me that? Is he trying to provoke me, test the level of self control I practice? Oh well. I never had much self restraint to begin with.

"Hmm.. Let me think… How about.. This." I hear Sylus audibly flinch as I wrap my left arm around his torso and squish my left cheek on his left pecs. Comical. I had no idea I would enjoy riling him up this much. "What? A thorough body search is necessary don't you think? Or do you want me to stop? I ask, already aware of what his answer is going to be. After taking two long breaths, he chuckles, pretending to still be in control of the situation. "H-help yourself."

"Don't mind if I do." With that I use my free hand that's not trapping his body to grab his face. He immediately starts melting in my palm. I use my fingertips to give light touches to his cheek, chin and slowly rub his ear. His breathing seems to be getting heavier by the minute. I move closer to the side of his face. "Panting already? I have barely even touched you yet." I whisper, and then lick a long stripe across his earlobe, he is blushing so hard and even starts trembling a little bit as I proceed to give kisses down his neck. He is so cute. "Y/n…" He moans out softly unable to look into eyes and hold my gaze, to embarrassed to do so I guess. "What is it 'sweetie'?" He whimpers a bit at the word that he usually calls me. "P-Please…." "Please what honey? Use your words." "please!… please Kiss me." He says in such a meek voice, body hot to touch with all the flushing and blushing. And who am I to refuse such a polite request? I lean down and smash my lips to his. It was a hot makeout with our tongues rolling against each other, his mouth opening to give my tongue more access as I bite his bottom lip and yank his hair in the kiss, making him moan, again. God, He is driving me crazy. I can feel his hand tugging the handcuffs, he wants to break from it so bad. Although I doubt he won't be able to free himself. I release our mouths harshly, figuring that he must be out of breath by hearing his pants. His eyes are all hazy, blush creeping to his neck and chest, my god he looks so fucked out already. I slowly trace his chest with my fingertips and then all of sudden I feel something hard beneath his robe. "Would you look at that? You kept the brooch with you all along. It's as if you wanted me to touch you." Sylus starts chuckling at that. "I did." He replies, smirking, leaving me dumbfounded and speechless. "What?" "I did keep it with me. It was to see how far you were you willing to go to find this brooch, But mostly I wanted to do this just for you to touch me. Which is exactly what you're doing right now." Hearing that I put the brooch on the bedside stand, and then use my body to pin him down again. "So you did all this… just to grab my attention? My, my Sylus I didn't know you were such a slut." His breath hitches again, it seems to do that whenever I insult him. "What are you going to do to me y/n, will you punish me?" he says, while being all smiley. If a punishment is what he wants, Then it's a punishment he shall get. "Stop talking." I sit on him, cunt pressed to that raging boner he has gained, than I bit down his collarbone while grinding on his dick. "h-haah… Y/N! oh my god…a-ah~" If his breathing could get any heavier, then it just did, his eyes are starting to get watery, he starts thrashing around the bed but I don't let him go until I have made a nice reddish- blue mark on his collarbone. "Don't hA~Ah.. Don't tease please.." He exclaims shakily making me sit straight which probably added more pressure on his cock as I see his eyes roll back and back arch a bit. "Darling, can't you see I am punishing you? you cannot make demands here." Sylus tries to thrust up to get more friction but I block him, I am not going to let him finish him so early. What would be the fun in that? "lay still." Sylus infact does not lay still. He keeps moving, thrusts shooting jolts of pleasure through my body as well. I steady my breath, I am still the one in control. "LAY STILL SYLUS!" I slap harshly across his nipple, which seems to shock him. His eyes widen a bit as he lets out a loud whine and tears start falling from his eyes. And that's when something snaps within me.

"I-I am sorry, y/n… plEASE- aaagh~" His voice now a tad bit higher as I start twisting and rolling his nipples in my fingertips. "Oh my.. I didn't know you were this sensitive here." I then bend down and take one in my mouth, softly sucking on it and flicking the other one. I can feel his body turning into mush as I look up at him, Sylus is unable to hold my gaze, soft gasps and groans escaping his swollen lips, he looks so cute like this. I then release his nipple with a lewd pop and give the other one the same treatment, and while massaging the other pec, I grind on down him again. "T-tOo much. this is TOO MUCH! please let me hahh! pleaSE LEt me mOvE." I can literally see the hearts forming in his eyes beneath the puddle of tears. Maybe I should go easy on my poor baby. I place a gentle kiss on his cheeks and wipe his tears that were rolling down . And then I start riding him, or you could say humping, Sylus throws his head back on the bed, adam's apple bobbing and fists clenched. "Haa~! thankyou so much a-ah~ I'm.. yeah please use me just like that! thank you y/n THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUUU~" He starts to ramble incoherent words, a series of broken 'please' and 'thankyou's' and random chants of my name, it's all adding to the pleasure as the heat pools in my stomach, ready to be released any second. I feel like he is close to his release too. "I-I am ugh.. I am close y/n Please! please let me haaH~ Please let me…" "Go ahead baby. Cum for me." That's all it takes for him to cum in his robe, making it completely dirty below. I ride him throughout his orgasm and then lie on top of him again, head resting on his shoulder. We lay like that for quite some time when sylus starts speaking "Are you satisfied now? Please uncuff me Miss. Or I will do it myself." "I know you can. But you wouldn't dare." "oh yeah? why so?" "Because I haven't cum yet Sylus. You will only leave when I tell you to." I can feel Sylus twitching beneath me again.

This is going to be a very long night.

..............................................................................................................................

AU: kill me

[undermine-the-instinct]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x reader

Read on A03...

Notes: For @lorelune 's Spring fever '2024 a/b/o collab!

Masterlist.../ Next part....

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

NOTE: Rin and Sesshoumaru are so found-family core to me, so I absolutely DO NOT ship SessRin.

Content: Omegaverse, Alpha!Sesshomaru, HumanOmega!Reader, AFAB READER, FEM CODED READER, period mentions, era appropriate misogyny, servant/master dynamics.

Length: 8.9k

Part 1 out of 4

Listen, nine hundred and fifty years before jesus was a child shaking willow leaves out of his tangled curls, the author of the book of solomon wrote: behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.

The inn that Sesshoumaru leads you to is weathered but sturdy, and most importantly, empty.

You’re surprised at the fact that the inn is a honjin, and not a cheap Kichin-yado, like the ones you've seen sparingly in other villages. This is a post town though, so it makes sense.

It is late, but beyond that the night is still, stale. The wind hardly moves, and you know the signs of a desolate town before the wariness in the residents' eyes can tell you. Scared perhaps, and desperate.

The woman who runs the inn is much like it, a bit old, but grounded, and elegant, as she stoops into a low bow and accepts the pouch Sesshoumaru hands with due reverence and trembling hands.

“Four days. Attend to their needs, whatever they may be. Your head depends on it.” You hand Rin to him, and he sets the child down on her feet with care that belies his stern brow. You take his hand next and hop down from A-Un, and he retracts his hand as soon as you are steady on your feet.

“Get inside now. It's late.”

“Yes, My Lord.” You usher Rin in behind the innkeeper, and for just a moment, you turn to look back at your Lord who doesn't follow.

“Will you be joining us?”

His eyes flash like lanterns in the darkness before he turns away. “...Just get settled in.” And he slips into the dark.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It was hard adjusting.

Leaving the 21st century for 1500’s Japan was enough of a shock, but apparently, demons existed. Yeah. Actual Demons. You’ve tried to adjust and find shelter, and a way back home, with no luck. You've been kicked and chased out of villages as mad or an ill omen (For washing your hands so often???), and you've escaped death and harm so often you swear there is either a deity who favors you, or favors your eternal anxiety over this whole situation.

It was by complete chance that you stumbled upon the Lord, in which you listed your capabilities and usefulness with the frazzled energy of a court jester at threat of beheading, the first demon to not drool and try to devour you on sight. 

He cut off your rambling with an odd head tilt and a ‘accompany me then,’ despite the furious squawking from the green imp you've come to know as Jaken. You just grinned, relieved at finally finding yourself secure in this foreign place, and followed along. 

You’re fine doing chores, or calling him Lord, in return for protections and shelter. You've learned how to talk in a 'appropriate manner for a woman' as the Lord ordered, but sometimes you push your luck–but you can’t help it! That reckless attitude followed you from your first life to this one, and that silky pale hair was just sooo pretty not to touch, and the barely perceptible shock in his eyes when you call him by his given name, no honorifics, is worth being forced to walk on foot for a few (dozen) miles. 

Perhaps he might have thought of killing you, a few times, the sniveling thing that you were, if you hadn't piqued his interest with your charming and witty banter...that he often rewarded by cutting your rations.

He’s gotten more lenient about it now when you ‘slip up’ and you think it's like an exposure therapy sort of thing. Except the exposure part is friendship, which you think he’s never had before. It is something the both of you have to adjust to, him, with your friendship! You, with the fact that you were most likely never going home and that demons exist, and probably, subsequently, Hell. Existential crises for everyone, yay...

Yet, another thing that was hard to adjust to was…your monthlies, Things were thrown out of wack when you landed here; Your circadian cycle, sense of appropriate social interaction, your menstration, etc, so it all took a few odd weeks to come back. Your period, that is you still don't know how to talk to people or wake up early. When that happened, Sesshoumaru had already been eyeing you strangely for days you swear, even if you never really caught him in the act.

It was only when he made himself scarce, did you recall how your friend's dogs could smell your stuffs before you even could, and you promptly wanted to cringe yourself out of existence. He’s an Inuu Youkai. Dog demon.

The blood stuff started, you freaked, and Sesshoumaru promptly disappeared far ahead, leaving you to the sneering and bemoaning of Jaken. You didn't have your preferred toiletries or heating pads or anything! It was never a fun time.

The only thing that hinted to Sesshoumaru’s continued presence was the corpses of demons left in his wake, drawn in by the heavy scent of your blood, the thick trail you had left behind. He started shutting you up in an inn somewhere whenever the time comes along now, even if he’s more often late than not, which was still… oddly considerate? Well, one time you all were too far inland so you had to huddle up in a cave and that was not a good time.

Futon and tatami mats might not be a duvet, comforter and down pillows, but it was much better than a cave.

As you’re thinking, Rin trots into the room, and you brighten, immediately waving her over. Joining the group the girl was a selective mute, speaking a few precious words here and there. Surprisingly, even with Sesshoumaru being the Leader of this group and you being her favorite (obviously), the one she spoke the most often to was Jaken. She trailed and played with him often, even if the imp would call it more tormenting.

Still, the girl has done wonders on brightening this dull little group, and you adore her more than you thought you would. 

Rin’s eyes light up with familiarity, and she skips over, plopping in your lap. You let out an exaggerated huff.  

“Woah, I think someone had a bit too much to eat at dinner…” She pouts, shakes her head.

“Really? Because it seems like you put on a few pounds already…” She shakes her head harder and kicks her feet, so naturally you reach to tickle her toes. She screeches in laughter as you hold her in place and count off the little stubs.

“This little piggy went to market, This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy got roast beef, This little piggy had none. And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee!’ all the way home!”

“What sort of nursery rhyme is that?” Jaken sneers as he trots inside.

“What kind of stank face is that?” you snap back. Rin gasps against you, trying to get her breath back, and flinches back in laughter as you fake-reach for her feet again.

Tiring her out and settling into bed is easy enough, and you regale Rin with one of the many tales of your world. You tell her about electricity and skyscrapers, blimps and airplanes and lakes within caves, caves with pink salt and love stories and anything that you can recall. Even Jaken doesn't interrupt, content to sit along and listen to your tales.

In no time at all, Rin droops against you, breathing evenly, eyes barely slitted open in that way that all young children fall asleep. Jaken snores in his corner, that creepy two headed staff in his arms, but you’ve all gotten used to that so you ignore him. Slowly, and carefully, you tuck Rin in, and move to blow out the oil lamp.

But Sesshoumaru is already there, staring down at the both of you, and you jump.

“...!!”  Putting a fist over your pounding heart, you just manage not to scream, and you frown at the Lord.

“You almost scared me into a heart attack!’ You hiss. You can swear he rolls his eyes– but the motion is too swift.

“Humans and their weak organs.” 

“And yet we’ve managed to survive this long, and longer yet.”

“Yes, like crickets. Or roaches.”

“Hey,” you frown. “A roach can survive nuclear fallout. You and I, however, cannot.” He rolls his eyes again, and you definitely catch it, and maybe this time you were meant to.

Rin snores gently, and his eyes are drawn. “These inane stories you tell the child are senseless and impractical.” 

“She likes them, they ease her. You know she’s been having nightmares recently–that last batch of demons brought back some…bad memories.” Sesshoumaru had told you how he had come to keep the girl, after he brought her back to life with Tenseiga. 

You know you’re not the only one who cares for her. Sometimes, if you’re keen enough, you would look over and catch the Lord looking over the child.

She’s be caught in some silly antic, like trying to braid flowers into A-un’s double mane, or refashion Jaken’s clothes to something more fashionable; And the Lord wouldn't smile or laugh no, the Demon is a practically made of marble, but there would be a fondness in his eyes. Then he'd catch you looking and that stony wall would slide back up.

But that did a lot to humanize him in your eyes (ha). He liked to gift both you and the girl new clothes in bright colors, and on especially good days, he would pretend to be asleep as she braids his hair. Jaken would critique her technique and flower placement, it was very found-family core.

You only caught that once though and you bemoan your loss of modern photography. You would’ve loved to get that on camera.

“The stories help get her mind off of that. And did you say ‘impractical’? I would say they’re inspiring–maybe she’ll reinvent planes and be the next Amelia Earheat, traveling the world.”

He cocks his head down at you. “And what exactly happened with this woman, did she live a fulfilling life?”

“Uh, no…whilst trying to become the first woman to complete a circumnavigational global flight, she and her navigator, Fred Noonan disappeared over the central Pacific Ocean.”

“Hence, why women should stay in the home.”

You scowl. “She didn't fail because she was a woman, she failed because she ran out of fuel for her plane. And if you must be misogynistic, she had a man with her!”

“Who let her take lead. Hence, their death.”

You click your tongue. “The inventions of women have revolutionized the world! Wireless transmission technology, central heating, kevlar fabric, the fire escape, mint ice cream; Women can be just as capable if given room to thrive.”

He waves your words away. ” I suppose then I shouldn't let you out of my sight, lest you recreate your lightning in a bottle again.”

“It's called electricity. I almost got the hang of it.”

“Hence.” He walks the length of the room, opens the sliding door to look outside of it. He stalks back in a moment later.

“There are no other guests in the inn, and I paid the old woman enough to keep it that way. After these four days we leave for the mountains.”

“Mountains…” You sigh, burying your face in the blankets.

“Can't we just fly over with A-un?”

“No. There are demon nests I must quell inside. We pass through.”

“Ugh,” You groan, flipping over. “Why? It's gonna be so hard…You know, this isn't how I imagined my life to go. So much hardship,” you whine. “If I wanted to climb mountains I would have joined a hiking group up Mount Everest or Fuji or Hiroshima or something…”

“How did you expect your life to be?” You stop your pouting, turning over to look at him, and the light from the oil lamp paints him in shades, a chiaroscuro of silver and gold.

“...What do you mean?”

“What did you expect out of life? Do you have dreams? Or did they die out when you came here?” 

He waits, and you can't seem to muster up the words under the confusion you're under. Staring at him upside down, you wonder, ‘when did you ever want to know about me?’

He’s the one who breaks eye contact first, a harsh sigh pushing past his teeth.  “Never mind.” He reaches inside the lamp and pinches the fire out. The room is enveloped in deepening shadows and cool tones; All moonlight and deep blues, softening into Dawn.

He turns, and his hair swishes, like a curtain of silver. A full moon, gleaming brighter here than the waning one in the lightening sky.

“Go to sleep.”

“...Goodnight, My Lord.”

“To sleep with you.”

_______________

Inu Yokai are more attuned to their senses than most demons.

It is their nature, as dog demons–their senses are what lend them their extra strength in battle, in the company of other demons–and He is a master of them all. He is a pure blooded Daiyōkai, Lord of the Western Lands. It is expected.

He has honed and sharpened and used them like any weapon, and they serve him just fine, as well as any tool or instinct.

He did not expect them to betray him like this.

The scent of your heat is a heavy, disorienting thing–but still weak compared to the true cycle of a female Inu Youkai. But where a female of his kind would enter estrus twice, maybe thrice a year, you enter it every month.

He caught the tell-tale ends of it, the day you stumbled onto his path. Faint and still unripe, rare, and no less precious for it-Omega. You wonder why so many demons chase and clamor after you, and that is why.

He found himself appalled, disgusted. But not surprised. Mortals are weak and slaves to their own biology. Such a rampant cycle must be their evolutionary way of ensuring that their population does not die out. Yet even he has to scoff at the luck you must have had to survive unblemished. A young, unclaimed, unattended Omega, even if they are human? How crass. How delightful. Like impure jade, saturated and cloudy. He keeps you anyway. He wants you anyway.

You fall into slumber easily, but fretfully, and he watches you alternate between a light and deep sleep. It is not pain or discomfort that ails you though, and he tries to tamp down the rumble in his chest at your drawn brow. He wants to soothe it. He wants to slip beside you and savor your heat.

Instead, he settles for brushing your hair back from your face, arranging it in a neat manner so that your neck stays cool, and the child won't step on it in her hurry. You’ll wake up late, more sluggish than the other two, but he’ll excuse you. Rin will rush out first, intent on cooking breakfast, which Jaken would take over, with the innkeeper's aid. You’ll wake up next, blurry eyed and guilty, intent on pulling your weight. He has instructed Jaken to make sure you rest, but recently you’ve cowed the imp into some leniency. He’ll have to check on you.

But he won't be staying in this inn, or around you long if he can help it. The scent of you before was irregular, heady and dark like blood and earth. It's a stroke for his ego (and what does that say about him) that being around an Alpha, a complimentary presentation, has helped you to…stabilize. You must have been surrounded by Betas, to have such a weak scent. But now that it's settled, your scent is something more floral now, mature, warm. ‘Like honeysuckle’, he compares. 

Pungent, thick, slow, very particular. It could be mistaken for jasmine, or vanilla, but no, honeysuckle. The scent thickens now, in your estrus, trails behind you in wafts. Further fuelled by the blood residue of your menstruation. You smell like wounded animal. Maddening, enticing, frustrating. Lovely.

Blasted instincts. They demand he steps forth and assuage them, but you are human. However his urges, no matter this damn longing, you will never be on equal stance, despite your presentation. That is reason enough. It should be reason enough.

Humans like to pretend that they are better than animals, or mindless beasts, but your body relays those basic desires pretty clearly. 

He wants to taste.

Four days. Four days until the worst of this passes, and he can continue on his journey. Perhaps he should have left you for dead, ages ago. Or killed you himself, to prevent anyone else the right. He wouldn't have to deal with this, and you’d still belong to him. 

But he’s not going to kill you now. He’s come too far for that.

He exhales, and slides the door shut seamlessly. It is near dawn, you all arrived rather late, so he will leave you to your slumber. That dizzying scent of yours heckles at his nerves, raises his hackles just the slightest bit–lengthens his teeth and claws, he cannot meditate like this.

He stalks from the inn, irate. There were plenty of low class demons he saw on the way to this backwater village. He needs to shred something apart. He needs to put his claws in something.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The next morning you wake up late, which is surprising, because usually Rin wakes you up by stepping on your hair rushing out. It lies neat around your face, and you’re left to wonder who did it for you, because it certainly wasn't you. 

Rubbing the dredges of sleep from your eyes, you still as an image comes to mind; A dream, the glint of something sharp, like a whetted knife, and…something else, a soft rattle in the dark. A weight on top of you? But kinda nice, like a warm, weighted blanket in winter. Hm…White scales. The heck?

“Whatever…? Weird dream…” You would have looked up your zodiac sign for any clues in your era, but there are things to be done. The Lord doesn't shut you in an inn so you can idle about. Maybe you can find some chores to help out with.

You shake your head at the images, and get ready for the day. Jaken and Rin are nowhere to be seen, and your body aches sorely like you did a full cardio workout the night before.

You only just finish getting dressed when there's a knock, and the sliding door opens, revealing the innkeeper kneeling beyond it.

“Forgive me for intruding upon you, honored guest. Breakfast is ready in the common area. Or would you prefer to eat in your room?”

“Uh, no, I‘ll head down, thank you..” You follow her down the empty hallways, until you reach the common room. Rin and Jaken have already set up all the plates; Jaken huffs when he sees you, lifting his sleeve to his nose while Rin just beams. You decide to focus on her, Jaken has always had a sore spot with you.

“Good morning Rin! Did you help set this all up?” She nods, before gesturing wildly with her hands, your eyes flitting to catch it all, the odd few words spilling out. You can understand her easily, by now.

“Oh, and you helped cook too? Well why didn't you call me?! I feel horrible that I just slept in while you were working so hard!”

“It wasn’t hard; You would know if you weren't so incompetent. This is just something any person can do.” Jaken lifts his chin in the air, self vindicated, nose still covered. You are not impressed.

“Thank you for the snark, this early in the morning Jaken. Anything else you would like to add?”

He scoffs. “You should be taking my criticism with due gratitude! I mean, what sort of servant sleeps in and doesn’t even help cook breakfast?”

“I am no servant, I am a companion. And so what? Are you going to take breakfast away as my punishment, Jaken?” You smile and take the bowl of rice Rin hands you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Why, I should!”

“But you won't. Because you know the Lord wouldn't approve.” And with that, he shuts up, the click of his teeth snapping together audible. The innkeeper flinches, and draws back.

And, alright, you were only half bluffing; Sesshoumaru would be upset, but only because Jaken has no right to dole out punishments. That's his job.

You see the owner lady bow and start to head out, but you call to her before she could leave.

“Hey, have you eaten yet? You should sit with us.” She smiles politely, shaking her head, still bowing. She isn't that old actually, now that you look at her. Laugh lines and crow's feet, salt and pepper hair. Fifties, perhaps. Her eyes keep flickering towards Jaken, and she breathes shallowly.

“Esteemed guest, I am honored, but I could not dare to impose.”

“I’m asking you to impose. Don’t worry about Jaken, I can punt him like a football at any given opportunity.”

“No you can’t!” Before Rin can fill it, you take your empty teacup and beam it off his head. It lands with a satisfying crack and the imp falls with a sad cry. 

“See? Also, the Lord is the esteemed guest here, not us. And, he’s not here. Please, sit and eat,” you tilt your head, peering just a bit closer at the woman.

“You look tired, actually. Are you alright?” Luckily, it doesn't take much more convincing before she sighs, and slides in the seat next to you, across Rin and Jaken.

“It is fine. There is much to do when you run an inn.”

“But you don't get many customers in this shack of a town, do you?” You glower at Jaken, who flinches back. You turn back to the innkeeper as he mutters something about  “hormones and lady cycles’, in which Rin scolds him for you, and introduce yourself.

“And the little girl here is Rin.”

“H-Hello,” Rin stutters the word out, and bows. You watch the innkeeper for any sign of reproach, but she just smiles and bows back.

“I am pleased to be in such fine company. I am Numachi.” She smiles, and easily looks ten years younger.

“‘Numachi?’” Jaken always has to ruin things though.

“Odd choice for a family name.”

Her brow doesn't furrow, but she closes her eyes, inclines her head. “It was my late husband's name.”

“Well it's still–”

“ANYWAYS,” you cut in before he has another chance to be crude, “Not to validate Jaken, but it does seem you don't have many…patrons. So why do you look so tired?”  She laugh-sighs, shoulders slumping, and the words spill from her, easily, like she's been waiting for someone to lend an ear.

“It was easier when I had my husband and two sons. But… after my husband passed, they left to travel to a more prosperous town, leaving me here…I run the errands by myself now.” You frown.

“They just left you alone when you needed them most?” She shakes her head. “Oh, no, they wanted to bring me along! But I’m much too attached to this place. It’s where I worked and stayed with my husband, after all. They are not far away anyways, they visit me every few months to check in. In fact, I received a letter at the beginning of this month that they would visit soon!” A smile paints her face, before consideration crawls over it; She lifts her sleeve and moves closer to you.

“Though, it's only after the new moon, and for that, I worry less. This post town used to be very prosperous, with many travelers and smaller inns. You can see the wreckage of them further into the town. But there's a demon, who's been eating all the residents for the past twenty years, under the veil of every new moon, and only then. The victims numbers keep increasing as time goes on, and soon…we will also be gone.”

Your mind quickly flashes to Sesshoumaru; The new moon will be soon, but for the next few nights at least, no one would be eaten, the demon wont get close unless they have a death wish. You think to tell her that but she goes on.

 “Now we mostly trade amongst ourselves. It takes such a long time for me to finish all these chores, cleaning the rooms and the bathhouse, checking the hot springs and collecting my small wares to trade, or collecting the things I've traded in advance for.” Numachi-san looks at you, almost conspiratorially, though it's hard on such a soft face as hers.

“I…have traps further upstream the river than anybody goes. It's where you can catch the fattest fish, though I only catch a few every couple of days. It's very far upstream, so that nobody may stumble upon them and steal them, a little aways from the rice paddies Taiga-san owns. Though, I supposed the fish make their own way out of the traps, with how long it takes me to sneak up there.” 

You pick at the fish on the table, seasoned with herbs and salt and vinegar, and take a mouthful of rice. Chew, swallow.

“There isn't much I am currently needed for, or need to do. I'd be happy to help with some chores. And please–” you cut her off, “don’t refuse because of hospitality. It would be kinder for the both of us if you received some help, and I find something to keep myself busy with.” 

Rin immediately bounces up in her seat, rice grains stuck to her cheeks and waving her hand in the air. You laugh.

“And it seems like you have another eager helper too. Three, with Jaken.”

“I did not–” He withers under the blinding smile you shoot his way. 

“So,” you grin back at Numachi-san. Please. what can we do first?”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The empty basket bumps against your hip as you rush into the village. Jaken had kicked up a fuss, had wanted you to stay inside, but Rin had wheezed past him, wiping the floor with a rag, and started chasing his feet. While he was distracted, you memorized the list of things you were supposed to get, and made your escape.

The village really was tiny, even in the midst of such a sunny day. In a time when the village should be bustling, people just kept their eyes forward and went about their business. Oh, there was of course the ladies in their tight knit groups, knitting and gossiping. There was the odd maiden who glanced longingly at some fellow or another, a couple cute village boys, all stereotypical bullshit, yeah yeah, but this town felt…hollow.

Or rather, drained. Like an old, cracked egg.

Numachi-san was right, you saw a few wrecked buildings as you made your way through town, following her instructions. They looked old and fragile, like houses made out of matchsticks. You hurried past these buildings, set on your way.

First, you had to get to the apothecary, for the bundle of herbs she owed the innkeeper, then, to old man Taiga for the rice. But the rice paddies were on the other side of town, where the streams ran from. You could get the rice and check on the traps tomorrow. 

Apothecary and cleaning today, rice and fish and cooking tomorrow. 

The apothecary was a small, but a long nook of a place, dimly lit and crowded with plants, hanging vines and drying bundles of other things. The woman who ran it was a frail old lady, white haired, who hardly spoke a word of greeting to you before she dropped an assortment of…things into your basket. You checked it over–expensive things. Honey and pears and mushrooms, spices–Parsley, chrysanthemum, kaiware, …some other plants you haven't been in this era long enough to identify. 

You were just sorting the basket on your arm when the lady slipped a few extra stuffs into your basket.

“Oh, was that also–”

“Extra.” 

“Extra? For wha-” 

“You're bleeding aren’t ya.” A woman of few, but blunt words. All knowing and terrifying in that knowledge. You nod.

She inclined her head towards the basket. “Ginger and ginseng to revitalize and heal the body, make it into a tea. You’re gonna need it, with that Lord of yours.”

“...What about him?” She rolled her eyes, a strange dark oak. 

“Don’t be dense girl. He shut you in that inn for a reason, right? Take advantage! He doesn’t seem the type to wanna go at it in a cave or some sort. “ And she leans in grinning, sharp and white toothed.

“You gotta watch out though, those types are the ones who pretend to be all dignified, but they’re the ones who go at it like beasts.” And yeah oookay you get what she means.

“Oh, no no no no nooo, we’re not here for that. I’m just a companion! And…my period just ended and I need rest, you know?” But she doesn't buy it.

“So you’re not his wife, or concubine?”

“No.”

She nods. “Not yet then. How ‘bout that little girl, she yours?”

“Rin, the child? No, no, we just took her in.”

“We?"  You catch your slip of tongue a moment too late, and flush red. The old lady’s edged eyes seem to stare right through you, sharp and inscrutable, as she grinds and cuts her herbs.

“Having trouble carrying that Lord’s child then, are you? That why you adopted her–”

“Goodness, no! I said it’s not like that!  She is just…part of the group.” Even that sounds weak to your ears, and you start to back out of the shop.

“‘A companion’...” She clicks her tongue. “How naive. He’s a high class demon and a man. You’re either a snack or a concubine, and with that sweet young scent and body, you might end up as both. Best take advantage before then."

"What?"

"If you're on or near off your bleeding, you're at your most fertile. If he hasnt already he's gonna try to pop a litter in ya." You make a sound of disgust and she rolls her eyes like a grandmother at an unruly child.

“Listen, I’m a part of this group. He's not that depraved to do that, you dont know what you’re talking about!” You're shocked at the volume of your voice, bouncing off the walls, and the most this lady offers you in a raised bow.

“Ah, I see. You like him but you’re scared–of what? Or is it a pride thing?”

“I don’t-”

“You're naive, but not clueless then. But pride is an easy price to pay for a good life. Make a move if you haven't already. Seems he already cares for ya, if he’s feeding ya and shutting you in an inn for your bleedings.”

“It's a two way street sort of thing. I get rest and he doesn't have to fight all the demons attracted to the blood.”

“Really? Well I bet he gets the days wrong, always shuts you up when the bleedings already ending. Leaves lots of bodies on the way too for ya, huh? It's like when my kitty brings me birds; It's about proving strength and showing he can provide. Demon and a man, remember?”

“You don't know him like I do. You don't know anything.”

“I know most women don't get a choice between comfort or a pleasant partnership; you got the chance for both and you’re not making any moves. If I was young as you I'd kill to take your place. Many women have.”

“So I should, on their behalf? He’s arrogant and aloof and looks down on humans,” you counter. “Why would he want me?”

“He’s sympathetic enough to take in a human woman and child and an imp, so maybe he’s not all that. Maybe you should ask why exactly he shuts you up. Or why you want him in the first place?” She resumes her chopping, the scent wafting up as bitter and sharp as her eyes. She pauses.

“If you live to make a decision, come back here. I got things to help you, whether you want to give him a baby or not.” She doesnt look up as you scoff, or run out the shop. You try to cast her words from your mind.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It got your mind running though.

“Numachi-san,” The innkeeper elegantly turns her head towards you, prime and ready to serve. It kinda irks you, her effortless grace and subservience but you ignore that.

“Why do you think the Lord dropped us off here?”

“Hm?” She tilts her head. “Honored guest…I wouldn't dare to presume, it is not my place.” 

“I'm asking you to presume. I won't hold any offense, so please.” Her eyes slowly slid over to Jaken, who was busy telling Rin off for the mess she was making. Rin just grins him away. 

Numachi-san slides over to your side, lifting her sleeve to cover her mouth.

“Well, if I may be audacious…Are you not the Lord’s wife?” You would choke, if the apothecary had not shocked you with this presumption earlier.

She hesitantly went on as you remained silent.

“The Lord has demanded your comfort. You rode in on the back of a mule demon with the child, and you were…bleeding. I saw the spotting. Oh, honored guest, do I go too far?” You shake your head, waving your hand at the crease in her brow.

“No, it's a...reasonable idea to come to. But it is none of that, I assure you.”

“Oh? You are a…servant of the Lord then? How generous he is.” Generous is the last thing you would call him but you can't find the words to correct her.

Curiosity pokes at you. “Numachi-san, sorry if this is too much for you, but what was your husband like? Was he kind to you?”

She bursts into laughter, and the sound of it is so sudden and bitter, your eyes widen. She looks at you with something like pity, like you’re some young thing.

“Kindness is a rare thing in this world, honored guest. That's why we call it graciousness– because it always comes at a price. No, my husband was not kind, but he was gracious.” Her eyes seem so far away, and she sighs in ages past.

“He helped me with the hotsprings and the fish traps upstream. Getting firewood and supplying the inn with whatever we needed, rice, grain, barley, herbs, meat.  My sons, when they were young, preferred to help me inside, at least until the younger twin started joining his father outside more often. They both didn't like people that much, busybodies. It was very crowded in those days so I understand.” And her eyes flick to the sides.

“But my husband…I cared for him, and he protected me. I’ve always been a frail thing, so I think he took it as ensuring my safety. I wasn’t madly in love with him as I was in my youth, but we enjoyed each other's company, which is more to be said then most marriages. Even so, after my sons were born…My duty as a mother overrode my duties as a wife. Not that it ever amounted to much, now that they all left me…” Another sigh, just pushing a small sob, her lipid eyes wet.

Wife. You’d never be a wife, in this era at least. Much less a willing mother. The chance of finding a decent partner that won't try and force you into domesticity is low, and lower still with the chances of Seshoumaru ever letting you go. 

If you asked him, would he let you go? Maybe as you get older. Maybe if you ever found a way back to your world. But what about Rin? It's not like you could take her with you. 

That night, after Rin has fallen asleep after another tale, you go wandering to the end of the hall, where the more opulent rooms lay. It's been unoccupied, but waiting a few minutes in the room yields results; Sesshoumaru appears as if he teleported, face forever calm and blank.

“What are you doing in my room?” The room you haven't been using? You want to snort, but rein that particular response in.

“Forgive me my Lord,” you incline your head. “I just had a bit of an…inquiry I wanted to bring to you.”

“And what ‘inquiry’ do you bring me?” 

To your credit, you only hesitate for a second at the infliction in his voice. Almost a challenge, but with none of the wariness to suggest he expects any real threat from you. You press.

“Why do you send us to an inn during my bleedings?”

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

It's not a particularly shocking question, but he wonders why you asked it. And why his pulse spiked ever so slightly.

“The blood scent attracts demons.”

“...Forgive me my Lord, but you are strong enough to deal with them; The corpses you leave behind are plain evidence. And I suppose it's more than that…” So you noticed. You bite the nail of your thumb, already red and agitated like it's a habit, which it is. He wants to tell you to stop, you don't need to lose any more blood than you already have. 

“It's just…We always stay at an inn towards the end of my period, always. If it's the blood that attracts predators, why not shut me up while I'm bleeding then? I know you…scout farther ahead but I bet you can tell when or before it starts, with your superior senses. We can plan better for this, y’know.”

How nonchalant, so self satisfied you seem with yourself that you meet his eyes head on. But as he stands there, holding your gaze like water in his palm, some shame finally finds you, its red flush crawling over your neck and ears and face. 

How lovely. “You don't know, do you?” Your shame, that is.

“Huh?” Even now, honey wafts throughout the room. It's all he can smell–blood residue and earth, honeysuckle and moonlight. He inhales so slowly, so carefully, to not disturb it, lest it spreads throughout the room and stick to everything.

“I don't know…what?” He doesn't answer you. He looks about; certainly one of the better rooms, still paling in comparison for his tastes. The futon has not been brought out, good. He doesn't need any more temptations. 

How clueless you are to his yearning, desire let sit to simmer for gods know how long.

Maybe from when you first stumbled onto his path, or how he noticed you never cowered near Jaken nor A-un, or even him; Cautious, but never fearful. Perhaps when your scent mellowed out with the addition of the child, or when you handed her flowers to braid in his hair. He wonders what the both of you would have done, had he dropped the farce of sleep, content to breathe in milk and honey. Would you jump back in shock, the child in your arms, or would you have grinned cheekily, teeth and all?

You're going to be the bane of his existence.

As he gazes about the room, he strides over to you in that way that makes you falter; Too swift and smooth to look like anything more than gliding, the illusion of being too fast to track as he stands before you; He tilts his head at the little squeak that leaves your lips as you stand eye to eye with his shoulder pauldron. 

Everything about you screams acquiescence, submission, fertility. Your smell, the extra luster to your hair, the extra plump to your face and hips….

He sighs. He finds himself pressing the flat of his tongue against his fangs, the roof of his mouth, to catch that cloying fragrance. There is a sort of fondness he holds for you that he is not sure is wise, nor gentle; It's a kind of fondness that demands both your tears and your desperation. 

“Attend to me.”

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

“Attend to me.” 

You mind blanks, before you spring into action. He walks over to the low table and seats himself, while you try to figure out how to take off his metal shoulder pad..thingy. It's attached by these red ropes, which are attached to that other black metal petal…thingy–wait, you should probably undo that yellow sash first. And that fluffy cape (it's sooo fluffy. But also literally alive? What is it?)

Sesshoumaru doesn't aid nor correct you, he hardly sighs as you fumble about, shutting his eyes as you work. He inhales deeply, once. He must be tired. Maybe that's why he’s entertaining you and not throwing you out the room. There's been a few close calls of that, so you know the warning signs- he emits none of them. He’s calm.

Finally, you get to that cherry blossom patterned Kimono, a crisp white and red pattern. Expensive. Hm. You wonder what his thread count is. Must be high. He lifts a hand as you hesitate for his undershirt; He just loosens the collar (and, skin!), and gestures towards the sake on the table that just suddenly appeared, a single cup to match.

As you pour it, a thought pops into your head.

“You can repair your armor and clothing with demonic energy, yes?” He actually raises an eyebrow, but only by a few millimeters. “Yes. And?”

So you couldn’t just like…Magic it all off?

You only shake your head and pour the alcohol into the flat sakazuki cups. He takes it from you and drains it immediately, and you refill it quickly. He drinks, and you look him over.

Your eyes trail down his form, not for pleasure, (because yeah, he’s beautiful, but he’s so beautiful it’s kinda scary, you know?), your eyes fall to the empty sleeve of his left arm, and you sober. 

He had dropped you off in some village one day, where you stood for a few days. Jaken was the one to retrieve you, and you came back to a demon lord with one less arm and a tiny child with matted hair. You did your best, but you were only able to fix one of those.

He catches your gaze before you can tactfully retreat, and his eyes narrow, daring you.

You cringe back. “Okay, okay, no need for the death glare. Just…curious.”

His unspoken question prompts you to answer.

“Just…um…Does it feel any different?” It's stupid even before it leaves your mouth, and you see the growing irritation in the set of his mouth, You set down the sake to wave your hands.

“No, no, I mean…! Like, there's stories, from my era I mean, and other stories from before obviously, but amputees each recall their experience differently. One thing that's common though is this thing called Phantom limb; It's like…they have the feeling of still having their limb, even though it is not there. I was just curious if you had…experienced that…” Your voice trails off, meek.

When you look up, he’s looking at the loose sleeve. His hair covers whatever expression he wore before he turns back to the lowrise table.

“Oftentimes, I could swear my hand would be curled, but when I look it is still gone.” A clawed hand raises itself, and removes the shoulder of his undershirt, revealing the ragged scar marring the milkiest skin you ever saw. 

“It aches, and not just the old wound. Phantom limb is accurate. I have to look and remind myself of what I lost.”

You try not to wince. “At least you have your life. I wouldn’t say you lost.” Nobody said anything of what happened to him, how he got so injured. You had to bribe Jaken with some rice cakes to even know it was another inu youkai, or hanyo, as Jaken sneered, so it's kinda scary to think there are demons stronger than the Lord in front of you, whose face and skin is smooth, but his eyes stony, like gilded marble.

“No, I lost that battle.” Sore loser then? You shrug.

“Well, I count it as a victory if I’m still alive at the end of it all.” And your impassive Lord actually snorts, closing his eyes.

“Spoken like a true loser then. Weakling.”

“Yes, and a coward. But alive still.” Silence threatens to fall, so you rush before it. 

“Could you, possibly, regrow it?” He is a demon after all…

But his fist unclenches, settles back in his lap. His face is calm again, like a freshwater lake.

“There is something halting that.”  And still, Silence falls like a dull knife.

This time, he takes the sake bottle and serves himself, quickly downing the drink and serving himself another. Are…demons impervious to the effects of human alcohol or…?

Maybe he’s just trying to get plastered???

Slowly, an idea forms in your head, so slowly, solidifying like fog. You act on it before you can lose the courage, opening your mouth to recite.

“Countless,

My Lord, are the years

That stretch before you;

In such an illustrious house,

A dewdrop is what I would be”

…People in this era are big on poetry, right? They’re not supposed to look at you like you just spoke in a dead language, right? 

“That is Ise no Miyasudokoro. You know of her, in your modern era?” You ignore the snide.

“I was in college, working on getting my Master’s degree. One of my electives was a poetry course.” You shrug. “So yes, I know of her.”

He affords you a look, an actual look; He checks the planes of your face and the depths of your eyes, and you don't know what he's looking at exactly, but he responds,

“The everlasting (moon):

Growing in its midst

Is my home, so

In its light alone

Can I place my trust.”

Oh! You perked up at the mention of a moon, y'know, people here really like using it as a metaphor, another poem ready at your lips;

“As a general rule

I would not praise the moon

For it

Piles upon men

The burden of increasing age.”

“And now Ariwara no Narihira? Was he also part of your curriculum?” You notice it, the regard in his voice, like a drop of paint in a glass of water, settling.

“Anyone interested in literature can't skip over Ariwara. He’s a classic.” Again, bluffing a little; your teacher passed him over very briefly, and you hate leaving any stone unturned, so you did some research on your own. (And thank goodness)

“I know of him and his work, but he is far from my favorite. Do you, perhaps…hold any favor to a poem in particular?”  

A nail, long and sharp, trails the flat rim of the sake glass. He seems to be contemplating, before he answers you in that impassive voice of his, even and toneless.

“In the summer mountains

From the treetop heights

Cuckoos’

Calls fill the sky

As does my love.”

Oh wow… “Ki no Turayuki? That's oddly…passionate.”

“Do you think I'm incapable?”

“Of passion?” What a loaded question. “No my Lord just…restrained.”

“I prefer…longanimous.”  You laugh at that.

“What adversity do you face to show such restraint then,  Lord Sesshoumaru? The world is already at the tips of your fingers.” He doesn't answer, but drinks. The silence that sails in is more weighted than you expected, and you regret your choice of words, already. Maybe he would have spoken of these ordeals. Was it the alcohol, or is the Lord being more…indulgent this night?

You turn your head, and notice the shoji door left ajar. So you stand, and draw it back, letting the night breeze filter throughout the room. It's nice. The perfect temperature, and the moon is just short of a perfect waning crescent. Soon there will be a new moon, and there will be no demons attacking this month. How lucky.

“Poems from the Sengoku era focus mostly on the tanka and renga format. In my era of modern technology, there is access to many forms of poetry, from all over the world. It's hard for me to pick a favorite.”

“Indecisive as always.”

“Oh, is that mirth I hear? I consider myself enamored with the written word. Even if I can only remember bits and pieces, from here and there.”

“Then what can you remember?”

“Bits and pieces,” you repeat, “lines and quotes. And if I must recite them rapid-fire I  fear I’ll only prove redundant.”

“I want to hear you, nevertheless.” You have to calm yourself, otherwise you fear your heart will leap out instead of your words if you speak. You wrestle it back down your throat, but there's still a tremor in your voice.

“Bits and pieces, hm?...It is late now, I am a bit tired; the sky is irritated by stars. And I love you, I love you, I love you – and perhaps this is how the whole enormous world, shining all over, can be created – out of five vowels and three consonants’, by Vladirmir Nabokov. Nizar Qabbani, ‘Because my love for you reaches higher than words, I've decided to fall silent.’ Venetta Octavia, ‘I say your name and it feels like aching, feels like paradise’. Andrea gibson, ‘come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.’  ‘Will you remember that i existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?’” 

“That last one was by Haruki Murakami,” you sigh. “...You can imagine, I got high grades for my poetry  elective.” You try to laugh, to make light of this moment, but it feels stilted and awkward.

The cool air stings a little as you breathe, but you hold it in, and exhale. And when you look up, you jolt.

He finishes closing the last bit of distance, looks down at you from his imposing height. How old is he…? His face you wouldn't call youthful, despite its softness. It's those eyes- they’re too pointed.

“Do I displease you, my lord?”

“No, you do not.” A knuckle taps at your head. “But your denseness frustrates me.”

“You mean…?” He rolls his eyes, a soft snarl building in his throat.

“You are not one for subtlety, are you.” His nails, like razors hovering closer. You could shiver, and not from the cold. Not from fear. Even when that strange hesitancy of his melts beneath a scowl, and he reaches forward more assuredly, yes, but rougher too. You speak before he touches you.

“You don’t have to hurt me, y’know.” His eyes streak back to yours, breathless and bright at your own boldness.

“You don't have to hurt me to justify touching me. You can just…”

Slowly, you tip your face into the open plane of his palm, cool, like all the rest of him, you’d imagine. His fingers flex, his hands so large that his nails brush your hairline. 

His hand isn’t smooth, it’s rough and calloused and cold, but the coolness feels nice. So you press your face closer and use your hands to hold it there.

You don't expect the sharp exhale, or for when he pulls you closer, and you jolt at the suddenness. A finger strokes at the hairs on the back of your neck and you shiver, again.

“I’m disciplined enough to restrain my desires, not curb them when they are released.” And just as quickly as he pulled you close, he let you go. “Tell me now. I won't have a tearful servant girl in my bed; You must be willing or not at all.” He almost sighs the words, continuous and melodious in that voice.

Is it taking advantage, if you give in? Lust was easy, easier to indulge.

You aren’t going to deny the butterflies you stomp down, in these quiet moments. And these moments aren’t infrequent– whether you continue to talk around a dying fire at a campsite, or taking shelter for a storm within a cave. It was a bit of a girl crush you had on the Lord, and you could give in, very willingly.

But should you? What would the ramifications be…?

“I…” And you pause, because you hear something. You perk up, turning back to the door you came from. You listen, both of you, and then you hear it again–muffled cries. Rin is having another nightmare.

“My Lord, Rin is…” You hesitate to go, the moment clinging to you like a mist, but then you hear your name.

You’re already detangling yourself from his hold and making your way towards the door when you remember yourself, and turn to bow towards your Lord.

“I’m sorry, I have to go make sure Rin is…” He waves you off, turns towards the open window where you can't see his face, see him gather himself.

“Yes. Go. See to her.”     

You nod and step back, but a part of you feels off, leaving him like this. What timing.

“I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, but I haven't told you my favorite poem yet, my Lord. I hope we can continue this conversation at another time.” You bow, one last time, before you hurry out.

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

Sesshoumaru sighs, viscous longing in his chest like hunger pains.

How dense are you? Must he lay out each of his desires for you for you to understand? You speak words of affection so easily, that when he does the same they fall upon deaf ears. He is not one to be overt. You are horrible at looking in between the lines, though.

It is wrong to feel this way over a human. Weak things, inherently inferior, yes, but perhaps you are all the more enchanting for it. It would be more unnatural if he were to let you be, to not taste the salt of your skin or the honey that wafts from you. The hint of arousal he caught, when he towered over you. You are an Omega in heat. He is an Alpha. What else is there? You serve him anyways, should you not be rewarded so?

His skin crawls, where it has touched yours.

And still, that honeyscent sticks throughout the room.

A/N: Was the poetry a bit too on the nose? I feel like sesshoumaru isnt the type for grand dispalys of affection or confession, he's way more lowkey lol. But here are the poems I used in order.

Ise/ Ise/ Narihira/ Ki No Tsurayuki/

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 26th

Masturbation, Phantom x Cardinal Reader

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Masturbation; mutual masturbation; caught masturbating; sub!Phantom (because I just can’t help myself, boy needs putting in his place); panty sniffing; degradation kink; squirting; finger sucking; cum eating; praise kink;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog

This is a continuation of the previous Phantom fic because I actually think about that daily… this is my Roman Empire right now… Also, I listened to THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND by Bad Omens on repeat when I wrote this so… do with that information what you will…

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Your day had been absolutely wonderful. You had the best night’s sleep, which bled into the most delicious breakfast, followed by a slow work day where you were able to catch up on all of your work and even start a new book all before lunchtime. And lunch was delectable, too. The kitchen had put on an array of delicious foods at the buffet this time, with bruschetta topped with fresh tomatoes, basil, and olive oil; arancini balls (of which you devoured several); fettuccine Alfredo amongst many others. It was very rare that Satan had blessed you with the most perfect of days, but you were thankful nonetheless. And even somewhat excited to get home, put your feet up and relax.

Your Ghoul, Phantom, had a separate schedule that he had to attend to today, which was, perhaps, the only negative part of such a perfect day. But, he was still in training after all, despite how much work you put his way as his Cardinal.

You took your heels off at the door as you entered your chambers, sighing in relief at the way your feet were now able to flatten out and stretch. You poured yourself a glass of water and stood in the kitchen, contemplating your next move when you heard it.

There was a faint grunting coming from your bedroom, behind a closed door that you know you left open when you left your place that morning. You could recognise those whimpers if you were blindfolded and threatened that your life would end. Phantom was in your room, and he wasn’t behaving as he should be. Quietly, you moved to your bedroom and slowly opened the door, making absolute sure that he wouldn’t notice you were there.

You opened the door the whole way, but his eyes were so tightly shut he had no idea you were there. He lay, sprawled out on your bed, completely naked including his mask, each item of clothing thrown carelessly around your room in his desperation to get his hand on his cock. One of his hands was wrapped around his beautiful length, stroking it perfectly and just the way he liked, slick with his spit and focussing on the sensitive, pink head. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth in a feeble effort to stay as quiet as he could so he wouldn’t alert you to his presence just in case you came home earlier than expected, but it didn’t stop his pathetic whimpers from spilling out in between the short, sharp inhales. In his other hand was a pair of your panties, the exact pair you took off the night before when he was with you, deep inside you, whimpering as he was now. Those panties were damn near attached to his nose, he refused to move the gusset the entire time he was stroking his cock.

You were wondering what he was thinking about - the first time you both had sex, perhaps? When you took him in your office, stood on his cock and made him submit to you until he bent out of shape and broke at your very whim? Or maybe he was thinking about the night before, how you let him take you from behind and pretend that he was in charge… though that didn’t last long. Poor baby had no idea how to dom though he tried. It all came to naught when he was on the verge of cumming and begging for permission to do so, whining in your ear as all doms do, of course. Though, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on to hear that immediate switch from “strong man” to “needy, subby bitch”.

His hips bucked the harder he pumped, and his moans became louder and louder. You even heard little whimpers of, “Cardinal!” as he played with himself - no doubt imagining whatever fantasy he’d concocted since the two of you played with each other regularly. You could feel arousal pooling in your cunt, wetness flooding your core with each lewd sound of his cock as he jerked it rougher and rougher until you decided to act and alert him to your presence with a clearing of the throat.

The look of fear and panic on his face almost had you drooling. He sat up immediately, launching himself off the pillows and throwing your panties across the room. His hand did what it could to cover his cock from you, but it was too late. The damage had already been done and he knew he was in for it now.

“Little slut couldn’t wait for his Cardinal to come home and take care of him, hm? Had to use my panties to get himself off.”

“Cardinal! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, Cardinal! Please forgive me.”

You propped yourself up on the dresser. “Okay.”

Your nonchalance and unbothered demeanour was uncharacteristic to say the least, and it unnerved Phantom more than he could possibly say. At this point, you would be finding a way to punish him, making him suffer for his disobedience. He walked into your room, stole your used panties, and was touching himself on your bed - all of which without your permission. “O-okay?”

“Okay.”

He hated this. “That’s it?”

“You wanted more?”

“Well, I expected-”

“Oh right, yes. You wanted to finish didn’t you?”

“Cardinal?”

“Go ahead. Lie back, little prince. Finish yourself off.”

“A-are you sure?”

“Of course. Tell me, what were you thinking about?”

He was now on his knees at the foot of the bed, about a metre away from you. His hand, tentatively, wrapped around his aching cock, still very much suspicious of you but desperate to touch himself. He’d be lying if he didn’t find this hot, though - the idea of him stroking himself while you watched him; his beautiful Cardinal whose eyes were fixated on the way his hand stroked over himself.

“Tell me, little prince,” you repeated, eyes trained exactly where he wanted them, “what were you thinking about?”

“Y-you, Cardinal. I was thinking about you.”

“Specifically?”

“When you tied me up… t-took what you wanted. How your pussy felt good around me.”

You lifted your legs and hooked the heels of your feet onto the edge of the dresser. You lifted your robes up and revealed your panty-clad cunt, the fabric soaked from watching your little plaything touch himself. You moved the gusset to the side, and allowed him the privilege of looking at your slicked folds. “This pussy?” You asked.

“Oh fuck.” He began stroking himself harder. “Cardinal.”

He reached forward to touch you, not that he’d be able to reach at that distance anyway, but it didn’t matter. He wanted to, and that was enough for you. You kicked your leg forward, swiping his hand away from you with your foot. “Ah, ah! Bad boys don’t get to touch.”

There it was. There was his punishment. The one thing he wanted the most right now, the thing he could see plainly right in front of him, but couldn’t have. You were playing a dangerous game - dangling the steak in front of the lion and expecting it not to bite. But then, lions weren’t the strongest in the Pride; Phantom was toothless and he knew it.

You didn’t miss how much faster his hand moved over his cock as you exposed yourself to him; the way his mind moved a million miles a minute as it comprehended just what you were doing to him. His heart rate spiked when he saw your hand move lower…

Lower…

Lower…

A gasp escaped your lips as your fingers made contact with your clit, your head tipping backwards and mouth falling open with each stroke. Your eyes closed at the feeling as the rest of your face contorted in a peaceful bliss at the relief you were finally giving yourself. Touching yourself instead of him touching you was almost just as much torturous - except your sadistic side was singing at the suffering you were bringing him. Sweet, kind, funny, intelligent, naughty Phantom, kneeling at the foot of your bed, completely naked, foaming at the mouth at the sight of your core and tormented by the fact he can’t touch it, lick it just the way you liked.

You chuckled at the sight of his pathetic, dumb little face, fixated on the movements of your hand, matching his stroking with yours. The way his mouth hung open in concentration and his pupils had blown out, removing any colour from his irises. He needed you so fucking badly, his whimpers and moans just confirmed what you already knew.

“Your hand feel good, Phantom?” You taunted.

“No. I want your cunt, Cardinal. Your cunt would be better. Please.”

“It would be better. So tight, and warm, and wet.” You dipped your fingers inside. “Oh yeah, so fuckin’ tight.”

“Fuck.”

You tapped up, hitting your g-spot with each movement and causing genuine moans to fall out of your mouth. His hips bucked at the sound of your fingers sploshing through your wetness, the same wetness he could practically taste on his tongue. All the times he’d been buried between your thighs with your pussy hanging off his tongue.

“I’m sorry, Cardinal.” He confessed, words slurring with the lack of concentration. His focus on your fingers turned his brain to mush. “I’m sorry. Please. Please let me touch you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

“You always - fuck - promise to be a good boy.” You pulled your fingers out and spread your wetness around your clit, furiously rubbing at the button. “You t-tell me you’ll be a good boy then go and - shit - go and do shit like this.”

“Cardinal, please!”

“No. You - fuck I’m close! You’re gonna watch me cum on my fingers. You get to watch me pl-please myself. If you’re good I might let you - oh fuck, I’m cumming!”

You came hard, your juices spurting out of your as you did and pooling on the dresser, sploshing on the floor dramatically and dripping off the wood when the stream had finally stopped. The sheer power of your orgasm knocked the wind out of you, forcing your free hand to grip onto the dresser in an effort to ground yourself. And you watched through blurred vision as Phantom fucked into his hand desperately, tongue escaping from behind his lips as if he could catch the droplets and drink them down.

When he saw that you were coming down, he piped up again, his voice breaking the silence. “Cardinal, please. I’ve been so good for you. I wanna cum, please let me cum. Please, Cardinal.”

“Little prince wants to cum, hm?” You pushed yourself off the dresser, your fingers still covered in your cum. Those fingers you moved towards him, holding them out so his mouth could finally reach them, but pulling away just as his lips were about to wrap around them.

“C-Cardinal!”

You laughed cruelly and cupped his chin, trapping it between your index finger and thumb, forcing him to look at your face rather than the cum dripping off your digits. “Pathetic little whore, desperate for my leftovers. You want to taste me, hm? Beg for it. Make me believe you want to.”

“I want your cum in my mouth,” he said, words rushed and desperate, “I want to taste you. I want to lick up your cum, please let me. Please let me clean your fingers. I’d lick it off the fucking floor if you’d let me. Please.”

“Oh, now there’s an idea. Not today, little prince. But… you think that was good enough?”

Tears began forming in his eyes. “Cardinal, please!”

“Good boy.” You moved your fingers to his mouth. “Take your reward.”

His free hand gripped onto your wrist to stop you from moving away as he sucked your fingers into his mouth. His eyes rolled back at the taste of you, eyelids fluttering as though he had just tasted the most delicious food ever created. His tongue moved erratically around your fingers, making damn sure every available drop was gathered on it and swallowed down his waiting throat. The whimpers that came out of his throat were gaining in volume and intensity, a verbal cue to let you know he was ready to cum but waiting for your permission.

“Cum, little prince. Cum for me.”

He was always good at cumming on command, thanking you with muffled gratefulness as his lips were still around your fingers, sucking hard on the skin as his cum began pouring from his tip, gathering on the skirt of your robes. He let his teeth slip, biting down on your fingers accidentally but not hard enough to be painful. The hand that was on your wrist tightened in his pleasure, and his fingernails dug in for purchase. He was lightheaded, swaying with the force of his orgasm, so much so you had to steady him with your other hand.

“You’re okay,” you told him, genuine kindness shining through in an attempt to comfort him, “I got you, baby. You’re safe. I got you. So fucking good for me.” You leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Good boy.”

He regained his mental ability to, well, exist and looked up at you with wide, puppy eyes. You bent down and kissed his lips, pulling him upwards for a passionate connection to help soothe the ache you created. “Always so fucking good for me, aren’t you?” You praised in between kisses. “You take what I give you so well.”

“All for you, Cardinal.”

“I’m just as much yours as you are mine, and don’t ever forget that.”

He nodded. You could feel the panic coming off him when you pulled back. “Cardinal?”

“It’s okay, my love.” You began stripping your soiled robes off and removing every item of clothing until you were just as bare as him. “Lie back and get comfortable. I’m coming.”

You climbed onto the bed once you were ready and scooped him up, pulling him to rest his head on your breasts and holding him as he needed you. He clutched onto you tightly, falling slowly into a deep sleep.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

The Cardinal:

Masterlist ⛧ The Cardinal Masterlist

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 43 - Even Though I Knew The End by C. L. Polk

Oh this was fun. Never would have heard of it if it hadn’t been nominated for a Hugo, and devoured it in the course of a computer-less Sunday afternoon. It wasn’t exactly reaching for the stars, but it knew what it was about and it executed it well; there’s a real virtue to that. Also I adore slightly cheesy but self-serious noir and the early 20th century really is the ideal setting for classical urban fantasy.

The story follows Helen, a private investigator and warlock in 1930s Chicago. Ten years prior to the story, she sold her soul to a demon to resurrect her younger brother from a car crash that would have otherwise killed her entire family – for her trouble, she was cast out from the magical brotherhood training her as a mystic and forced to make a living as a cut-rate diviner and gumshoe in Chicago. The plot kicks off three days before the deal comes due and her soul’s forfeit, and she takes one last consulting job to add a bit more to the nest egg she’ll be leaving for her girlfriend Edith when she’s torn from the mortal coil. And then, of course, she finds out that a) her employer is a demon, b) the case she’s consulting on is someone ritually murdering other poor souls who’ve made deals, days before they come due, and c) if she solves it she’ll get her soul back, along with enough money to make to San Francisco with Edith and start a new life free and clear.

So this is not a book that sets out to surprise the reader. The storytelling is efficient and the foreshadowing is reasonably honest – you can guess just about every twist well ahead of time with even the slightest bit of effort. I’d say the book isn’t trying to break any new ground, but actually it’s the only example I can think off hand of this sort of genre emulation period piece that both has a queer protagonist and doesn’t either elide or edit out the homophobia of the their environment, so there is that. Anyway, ‘genre emulation’ is the right term I think – snappy, tightly written noir plot that doesn’t outlast its welcome (this was absolutely a novella-sized story).

I really don’t know the author or their work well enough to know how intentional it is, but the ending very much felt like a comment on the whole Bury Your Gays/Tragic Lesbian trope. Essentially, Edith gets herself heroically sacrificed saving Helen’s life in the climactic showdown. Then, once the dust has settled and Marlow (her demonic client) has given Helen her soul back she…immediately sells it again to bring her back. Better ten years of Californian bliss with her true love then an eternity in heaven (and besides, that brother she’d saved the first time had just killed an angel, so someone’s going to need to keep him company in hell). The book’s title is in no way subtle or metaphorical, it is a line of the protagonist’s internal monologue.

The story’s universe is a folk-Christian one, and it is absolutely imperative that when reading it you don’t poke at the underlying metaphysics at all. Angels and demons are real and magicians are the distant descendants of Nephilim and some of the Grigori still haunt the earth, and we have it on good authority that God doesn’t actually care about being gay and everyone seems very frightened of the idea of summoning the Archangel Michael to earth, but start asking any followup questions about angels and world events during the Roosevelt Administration and you’re ruin the story for yourself. Just don’t worry about it.

As a final note, I really did love Marlowe – or properly, she’s one of my favorite types of demons in these sorts of stories. Epitome of high class beauty, lives in a palatial penthouse waited upon handed and foot by layers of servants, eats the best food and wears the best clothes and has the best lovers, even a generous employer and creditor as long as you do what she wants and give her what she’s owed. The sort of demon who seems like falling out of heaven was worth it, and one you can imagine actually convincing someone to sell their soul. She’s fun!

[cleromancy]

while from the doylist perspective the stories are specifically propping tim up compared to jason by doing this... i am obviously still very interested in, and compelled by, jason canonically having a pretty high opinion of tim going all the way back to their first meeting.

(for the record, absolutely nothing in-universe justifies jason having this opinion of tim up until tim springs him from prison imo. he beat the snot out of tim in tt29 and it wasn't even hard and yet for some fucking reason he still walks away thinking tim is a Better Robin than he was? like... ok. sure. more thoughts on this later in the post tho)

so the new earth (post-crisis pre-reboot) continuity tim-jason interactions we have, in order, are batman 617-618 (from batman: hush, this ones a retcon and barely counts, its just jason holding tim hostage with a batarang to his throat; and you might also get a glimpse of jay doing this in batman annual 25 lol but its in the other room so im not checking), tt29 (published in the middle of uth coming out, lol), tt47 (countdown tie-in), robin 177 and 182-183 (post-countdown, immediately after jason dumps his red robin costume and one of tims rogues fishes it out of the dumpster to wear, correctly intuiting *for some reason* that this will get to tim), and......... sigh. stupid battle for the stupid cowl.

(and, since were talking about jasons perspective, theres also the picture wall in lost days. i dont know what issue it is because to me lost days is not "made up" of "issues", it is one book i simply open to devour whole whilst weeping.)

i think tt 29 is the interaction i find the most frustrating because... we have an idea what tt29 would have been like if it were good. bc we have ga01 69-72. and granted Tim is such a cocky little shit (affectionate) that jason simply. Would probably not have been able to scare him no matter what, lol... but imagine if this fucking issue had been good.

ok cutting 4 length

the problem with johns. .......the FIRST problem with johns. is that he regularly has interesting ideas and his execution of them completely falls flat. the second problem with johns is that he can't write dialogue. the third problem with johns is that it was really really important to him that you understood what a Talented And Special Boy tim is but instead of showing you that he just forced other characters to. tell you. over and over. jason is not johns' only victim in this quest. (and johns was also not the only perpetrator, as we will see when i get to fuckin fabnic.)

but like i said i *am* actually interested in the potential here, because i do think there is potential.

and i also think that--at least when you read into it as deeply as i do--jason is sympathetic in this issue. (don't give me "hes beating up a child" crap here btw. jason's only 2-3 years older, tims a peer to him, they could easily have gone to high school together if jason hadnt fuckin died.) johns deliberately shows us Jason hoping raven gets a reprieve from the nightmares, and he certainly was *trying* to show us how much it would fucking suck to be remembered as the Bad Robin, forgotten except to be a cautionary tale, what kind of things that would do to a person emotionally. AND he makes a point of highlighting Jason's loneliness and isolation as robin, and. tbh i dont think the issue itself rly blames Jason for that. (you most certainly do not gotta hand it to him though. under no circumstances do you gotta hand it to johns for anything.)

and while jason tearing off his clothes to reveal his party city knockoff robin costume--the better to beat you with, my dear--was, erm. falling mostly on the wrong side of the line btwn camp and cringe... i do think jason writing his own name in blood on the wall was right on the money, *especially* because it was obviously not tims blood. like, tim wasnt bleeding anywhere near enough for that. it was either fake blood or jason prepped his own beforehand for them to DNA test--but also if they saw it before they saw tim, to make them fear for tims life, as a reminder of the risks theyre dealing with here.

oh but i was planning on talking specifically about like. what Jason might actually have seen in tim that left him with a positive impression. as-written? kinda nothing. lmao. or well the one thing imo is this

just kidding i couldn't find the panelz somehow despite posting them literally like yesterday and i ran into this lol:

>:| got distracted again. by this.

anyway i give up ill add the pics later. but its the exchange where jason has *decisively* won the fight, tims crumpled on the floor concussed and winded, and jason demands if tim *really* thinks he was good enough to tail bruce unnoticed for weeks.

and tim says "yes." hes beat up enough he can barely talk but there's still no hesitation whatsoever. and jason is *really* down on himself in this issue--he calls himself a failure, he feels like no one cared about his death, he feels unremembered. and jasons stated intentions here were to get the measure of tim but i also stand by the interpretation that he wanted to warn tim off of the sidekick gig, to remind him you uh. you have to be dick fucking grayson to survive it. (i dont believe either of them mentions him by name, but hey, dicks shadow is big enough for the both of them.)

i think what jason finds worthy of respect here--and, on top of that, intriguing enough that in robin 177 he entreats tim to join him--is the confidence, and also? at absolutely no point does tim believe jason is there to kill him. not a fuckin high bar, i know, but like i said i do think jason had *planned* to try and scare tim off (just also mega derailed himself by accident bc he got too in his feelings about the statue room 🥺), and... its not a bar he would have expected Tim to clear, is all im saying. particularly because while it is *possible* this took place in the middle of uth (tt 29 was released in november 05, between batman 646 and 647, which is the part where slade shows up bc black mask hired him to take jason out, so tt29 couldnt have happened in the middle of those two specific issues, but there are several other points at which jason could have taken a break in menacing gotham to fly to san Francisco), with Jason talking so negatively about himself i have to assume this is after the end of uth.

(you might be able to place this in the in-universe chronology by if/when teen titans mentions chemo dropping on bludhaven, which happens immediately before the bruce-jason-joker final showdown. however i dont feel like poking around for that or any other details to anchor tt29 to the other events happening at the time rn.)

i just also think so much of what jasons doing in this issue is like--he doesn't know *what* hes there to do. he had a plan and hes kinda fumbling it, not because tim is being especially resourceful but because jasons still licking his emotional wounds from uth, and titans tower is bringing up ones i dont think he ever realized hadnt healed. hes feeling everything at once. hes angry and hurt and full of self loathing but i think by the time tim simply says "yes," jason hits the stage of just being... burnt out. done lashing out, fucking tired, just wants to go home, if he can ever find it.

but i do think that "yes" would stick in his craw for a long time afterwards.

tt47: tim kicks jason in the nuts and pretty much declares them even for tt29 lolol. you may have seen my post about how jason only *sometimes* wears armor in countdown--hes drawn in the armored turtleneck and tac pants in tt47, but there are times in countdown hes out there fighting aliens and metas and shit in his jacket, a *t-shirt,* and *jeans.* just a squishy regular degular baseline human doing this and no one ever brings it up. but anyway. do i think tim would have seen jason wearing the equivalent of civvies plus a domino mask, narrow in on that, and immediately decide to kick him in the balls? i sure do. do i also think that this would make him rise in jasons estimation?

yeah. yeah, i really do. lol

anyway after this! after this is jasons briefish world-hopping stint as red robin saving the universe being a big damn hero and getting paid dust by everyone around him, in countdown; i think i mentioned before in this post that at the end he abandons the red robin suit in a dumpster, where it gets picked up by one of tims rogues. this storyline sucks and fabnic is a hack unfortunately. the rogue did it bc he wants tims attention or whatever. not important except for how irritating it is that fabnic fumbled a concept this juicy (tim inheriting and eventually purposely adopting The Bad Robin Mantle) which is also further fumbled by stupid battle for the stupid cowl, and the people who it falls to to salvage it are. johns again, in adventure comics 3, and yost, who is a better writer than johns or fabnic but not by like a huge margin.

and while i do think tim having a bad opinion of jason at this point was inevitable i find it so frustrating the way it was executed... like so often with Bad Tim Writing and also fuckin DC Editorial's Jason Slander Agenda shit it wasn't because in-universe thats how the characters would feel, the writer was using tim as a mouthpiece, and jasons competence and things he cares about arent taken seriously... BUT WHATEVER the point is that when Tim goes to stop Jason from his villainous scheme to reduce crime or whatevr jason has such a high opinion of him that he asks tim to join him:

and jasons loneliness, his desperation to be heard, is such a theme for him in the new earth/post crisis era and i wish it had been. Handled better lol are you noticig a theme here its that Jason has been written badly. (tim too, tbh.) and when tim says no jasons dejected but unsurprised acceptance breaks my heart. but to me the most interesting part of jasons appearance at the end of tims robin series is in 182, when tim--for absolutely no good reason--gives jason the means to break out of prison.

he says something about how its what Bruce would have wanted, but for. reasons i wont get too deeply into rn, that absolutely does not hold water.

anyway i just think there's no way jason doesn't start crushing on tim at least a little at this point. shrug.

bftc sucks and i dont want to look at it rn. but its also got examples of jasons high opinion of tim. and also im mad at it bc both countdown AND his appearances in robin feel like they could have been taking jason to a like. more of an antihero type of role and then we get bftc and morrison and its kind of. fucking hard to get jason anywhere near back on track after that for those of us who still like playibg in the post-crisis pre-reboot sandbox. and i wouldnt be mad about that if bftc had been good bc Jason absolutely does make an incredibly interesting and effective and tragic antagonist when handled well but well. he wasnt. and i have no idea what bftc would.have even been like if it was good bc it was so off the wall and dumb and assassinated actually *everyones* characters. so.

anyway

im just going to roll back to robin 183 now

jasons referring to the damage tim got when he got a little bit exploded in 180, this pretty nasty burn on the back of his head, which was actually why he wore jasons RR cowl for the first time (he was still robin). but what you do see here--aside from Tims narration which puts him *firmly* on the side of obnoxiously arrogant and judgmental instead of charmingly cocky in this issue, to my estimation, thanks for nothing fabnic--is the two of them on firmly cordial terms. jason still thinks more highly than tim does of him, but theyre asking each other about their injuries... tim caring about the wellbeing of people he doesn't even like is par for the course with him, ofc, but once again Jason doesn't really get that a whole lot. constantly haunted by this panel from countdown btw:

does he though!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

here is another jaytim preboot canon interactions post from a few months ago with some more thoughts, some repeated lol.

anyway. incoherent rambling complete for now. however. jaytim time is all the time 👍 i will revisit this.

[bloodinwine]

I've seen some posts here and there about comments on people's fic, how they can come across as too demanding or really just not kind. It's been a little over a year, so I still feel like a baby to fandom - but I think I've experienced enough to have an opinion about this now (or I should say, understand my own feelings about this). I apologize for my rambles... First, I want to acknowledge that comment anxiety is so real. There are people so well-intentioned, who may want to express how much they love your story but just don't have the words or are so fearful that it will be taken the wrong way. Sometimes I do worry that having a criteria for what constitutes as the right way to leave a comment can make this anxiety worse for some people. Now, I've gotten comments before that could be read as "demanding" but I just try and see it as someone being excited and wanting to read more! At the same time, man....if only one could see the amount of TIME that was poured into that piece you just devoured. Because real talk...I tend to feel pretty hollow for a few days after a chapter drop. Like...in the most dramatic way possible. HOLLOW. EMPTY. NUMB. The comments that do come in DO bring a smile to my face and they DO mean so much to me and they DO motivate me to continue. But I am just utterly depleted and it takes me awhile to get my shit back together. I think part of it has to do with like...the amount of hours, days, I poured into this and how it can literally just be consumed in like 20 minutes. Most people will consume your art and some people will engage with it - and there is a difference. But that's kind of how it goes, once you release it you don't have any control over how someone chooses to respond to it.

The same could be said for visual art. Every art piece you see, it takes you one second to glance at and hit the like button. The amount of time and patience and care that went into it though? I can't even wrap my head around it. Since writing fic, it really got me thinking....there are SO. MANY. BOOKS. that I've read, many that have influenced me, had my jaw dropping to the floor, that I absolutely LOVED, changed my life and guess what? I've not once reached out to the authors in any form to express my appreciation. I don't even actually know what point I'm trying to make. (Again, rambling.) But I guess if you choose to read and you find the engagement exhausting so you don't want to leave a comment - I think that's okay. It would feel really awesome to the fic writer - who isn't making any money or getting anything else out of the time they'd put in - but if it's too overwhelming, then don't push yourself. Life is hard and sometimes you just need a place to escape without the pressure or sense of obligation to say something. I can understand this, too.

And for those who have taken the time, you have become a part of my own journey as I go on to write this ridiculous story. And I don't say that lightly. Whatever happens, or however fandom culture gets shaped or changes - I hope we all just continue to treat each other well and be kind, be kind and be kind always.

[mandiemegatron]

Please please please tell me your favorite Doffy headcannons I am dying to know!

Thank you for being here omg!

I LOVE U SO MUCH ANON, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS QUESTION 🤭🤭🤭💖💖💖

Header by ; @baka-tsuki // @baka-tsuki-2 ♡

『☼』 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜 『☼』

♡ even though you say "I love you" first, Doflamingo always goes above and beyond to show you how much he truly appreciates your love. Showering you in gifts is number one - necklaces, mostly. Gold, sterling silver - your choice, as long as you wear it for him the second he gifts it to you. Never gaudy or over the top, more simple but gorgeous, usually accompanied with tiny precious gemstones. Your favourite one is a simple, thin gold chain with a small gold circle, the Donquixote Crest stamped onto it. [He internally loses it everytime you wear it, especially if it's out and about or to a not so important meeting. Seeing you wear his crest with pride makes him feel absolutely feral]

♡ Doflamingo always, always, always makes time for you, no matter how much he has on his plate. Whether it be first thing in the morning or right before bed, he always makes sure to kiss you at least once a day. While for some that may not seem like much, but to you, it's more than enough. You know how busy and important he is and understand why he can't be with you every second of the day, which he shows appreciation by fucking you senseless the moment he can. This man will give up a night's rest to not only fuck you but make love to you, at least as best he can. You both know he's broken, unfamiliar with love as a whole but that doesn't deter you at all, showing him just how wonderful genuine love and affection is.

♡ He loves having you in his lap when he's doing paperwork. He's got a lot of it, so be sure to bring a book. Most times, Doflamingo demands you wear a dress or skirt with no panties, so he can run his fingers over your soaked cunt whenever he wishes. Nothing makes the man cackle more than making you fall apart in his lap while doing the most boring duties, bringing you over the edge at least twice before stuffing his cock into you, roughly pressing your front into his desk as he takes you from behind.

♡ Doflamingo loves when you wash his hair and body. The man has a worship kink, deeming himself a God worthy of adoration and you are more than happy and willing to service him however he chooses. It's such a soft, intimate moment when he brings you into the tub room with him, sinking into the almost pool sized bath and pulling you against him. You cling to him and he kisses you, over and over, everywhere on your face. This is the only time you see him without his glasses, your fingers following the same routine everytime of brushing over his face lovingly, thumb gently dancing under his blind eye which he closes. It's the only time he tells you he loves you, the words soft and near non-existent. It's like he worries It's all a dream and if he says it too loud, the dream will collapse. You don't mind, simply returning kisses over and over as you tell him the same.

♡ Doflamingo gets incredibly jealous wicked fast. A lowly servant speaking to you for too long? Off with their head. A patron in the bar trying to catch your attention? He'll scoop you up and devour your lips right in front of them before ending their existence. If you try to make him jealous on purpose, he'll punish you then and there, pushing your skirt up and pressing long fingers into you, not caring if you're in public or not. You're his and his alone, and everyone is going to know that somehow. Jealousy sex is painful, almost too much and overwhelming to the point you're sobbing, begging for him to either let you cum or to stop. He'll have you over-fucked to the point you can't speak as he fucks you from behind, eyes rolled back and drooling - its his second favourite position.

♡ His favourite position is you on top, titties bouncing and fingers digging into his sculpted chest and stomach, nails leaving angry red lines over his tanned skin. Doflamingo loves to dig his fingers into your hips, leaving bruises and aching bones behind. There's nothing that fuels his ego more than seeing you unable to walk after a long session, summoning threads to wrap around you and help you walk to the washroom. He's warm and only slightly sweaty every time, his hold incredibly tight around you when you return. He loves watching you curl into him, feeling like a cage trapping a song bird, one that was made just for him.

There are few things in this world that Doflamingo truly loves - and you are one of them.

[cailynwrites]

Harry Potter Rec Fest Day 14 - Favorite Series

I have a lot of series bookmarked, but due to time constraints, I often default to shorter stories. There are a few series that I devoured though and I'm grateful for @hprecfest for reminding me to rec them. All of them have excellent podfic versions too!

Do It All Over Again by @dracowillhearaboutthis (Podfic read by @sandstripe) Pairing: Draco x Harry Word count: 468,229 Length: 34:34:15 Rating: E

This is a canon rewrite beginning before first year, when 11 year old Draco receives a letter from his future self. I found it to be well thought out and developed Draco's character in an interesting way.

As for the podfic, the narrator themself states in the notes that the read fast, and they absolutely do. But they speak clearly, recording quality is good, there's no bumps or breathing or other unnecessary sounds, and if you slow it down to 75 or 80 %, I find it to be totally listenable. I honestly don't know how they speak so quickly, it's superhuman!

The Mirror of Ecidyrue by starbrigid (Podfic of the first 4.5 books on Spotify by starseeker) Pairing: Draco x Harry Word count: 1,219,490 Length: long Rating: T to eventually E

This is also a canon rewrite, but with Draco going unwillingly back in time. He doesn't immediately become buddy-buddy with Harry; it's actually Hermione who befriends him. There's funny and angsty and really thoughtful canon adherence and divergence. I haven't finished the series yet, but I've enjoyed it so much. Starseeker reads it very beautifully and still updates sporadically (believe me, I know what a massive undertaking it is to record a series like this of 1.2 million words!), so I'm kind of holding out hope that they'll finish and I'll be able to listen to the rest. They're currently abut halfway through book 5.

************************************************************************

A couple of self-recs for @etl-echo-audiobooks, not for my own recordings ...

Rights and Wrongs series by @lovesbitca8 Podfic read by @beatificbean (with @etl-echo-audiobooks) Pairing: Draco x Hermione Word count: 698,707 Length: over 50 hours Rating: E

Pick your poison based on your mood:

A little angst but mostly fluff: The Right Thing to Do (Hermione's POV)

A lot of angst and redemption: All the Wrong Things (Draco's POV)

Dark, Voldy wins alternate universe: The Auction

@beatificbean reads all three of these stories beautifully (not a surprise). I love a Draco redemption, so all three of these stories hit the spot for me. Mind the tags for The Auction.

Wait and Hope series by @mightbewriting Podfic read by @beatificbean (with @etl-echo-audiobooks) Pairing: Draco x Hermione, Theo x Blaise, Pansy x Neville Word count: 389,063 Length: over 35 hours Rating: E

@heyjude19-writing already said everything I would say about this series, and much more eloquently (obviously). I'll just add that I almost used this rec for both Comfort fics and Fics that make you cry (porque no los dos?), and that @beatificbean does a beautiful job with this series as well. She just cranks out the top-tier drama and romance; I aspire to someday be so prolific and talented. I mean, she recorded over ONE MILLION words just for these two recs, and there's lots more where that came from.

[prismaticpichu]

Hi! How are you? Also, umm, can you make Zack Seph, like Zack does vlogging with his friend Seph, like add Funny, angst, happy ending, Protective Zack, please? I'm sorry if I bothered you. 🥺❤️♥️✨

Heya!!! I’m doing great, my friendo!! Hope all is well with you!! 💕

Ooooh vlogging???? Absolutely!!!

(BIG jumbo shoutout to @rottenpumpkin13’s series of SOLDIER vlogging shenanigans for inspiration!!!! Those things are frigging hilarious <333)

~

Nibelheim Fix-It: Vlogging Edition!

[the camera flashes on to reveal two Mako-blue eyes gazing steadily into the lenses, their electric glow all the more accentuated by the dismal blackness of his backdrop, his footage jostling up and down slightly as the spiky teen makes his way through the corridor in which he is recording.]

“Heyyyyyy, world and all who inhabit it! Zack Fair here, and I’m coming to you RIGHT from the basement of some screwed up manor in Nibelheim!”

[the young First glances around a bit, ensuring that he’s still going the right way.]

“It’s very very very VERY, dark, as you can see… Just trying to make sure I don’t bump into anything here. Already bumped into three rats, eight cobwebs, a whole buncha coffins. Spooky stuff. But don’t worry!! This isn’t your boy’s first trip down here…”

[there’s another quick turn over his shoulder, this time spotting a very vague rod of light floating in the distance, some nebulously victorious sound escaping his lips as he eagerly starts toward it.]

“This is actually my second time down here. First time I was kinda totally kicked out. Not at all rudely though! Guy just needed some space… I think. He’s been getting that for like four days now, anyhow. ‘Bout time he took a break.”

[as the glowing belt approaches, Zack mindlessly pads around for a bit, pawing and groping through the thick basement gloom.]

“C’mon, where’s the knob….”

[the faint sound of palm meeting metal is heard echoing through the dark.]

“Ah, sweet. Okay okay okay… So you folks are probably wondering right now who I’m even talking about. Well, lemme tell ya. Ever hear the name ‘Sephiroth’ before? You know, quicksilver hair and bare chest and pupils that go all upppppp like that? Yeah, well! He’s in there. In a library right here, devouring books like free samples at a superstore. And he’s been there for days. Been in there ever since—“

[he pauses for a beat, cutting himself off, a look of confliction cracking the teen’s cheerful masquerade]

“Well, uh… for Purposes, I don’t think I’m going to say what happened when we went to investigate the reactor. Doesn’t really matter, anyways. It’s more about how it affected my poor bud—uh, Sephiroth! Shoot he’s gonna kill me for using that silly nickname on this. Anyyyywaayy! I’m here to get him some fresh air, tell him what he needs to know and, most importantly, get it all recorded so he’ll never forget it again.”

[the camera hobbles as Zack presses his ear to the door, listening intently.]

“Alright… he’s definitely in there. Can hear his boots walkin’ around. Okay. Okay, you got this, Zack… Alright! I’m going in. On three, two, one…”

[and the door to the library is pushed open, his camera’s eye capturing the shift in backdrop as Zack makes his way across the threshold, the young SOLDIER traveling down what looks to be some narrow corridor that abruptly pools into an eerie candlelit opening.]

“Ooh. There he is.”

[the camera blearily pans around to capture a slender silver shape with a book in his hands, leather coat dancing with faint orange hues from the casting candlelight, silver hair appearing almost copper under the ghostly illumination as he paces back and forth across the floor without so much as a flinch.]

“Gaia… does he not even know I’m here? Okay, okay! Let’s do this, guys. Let’s get this man outta here.”

[there’s a deep, centering inhale from behind the camera.]

“Hey! Sephiroth! Seppphiroth! Sepppphiiroth! Put down the book.”

[a heavy silence dogs as Sephiroth continues to pace the floor in silence.]

“Shit…”

[the camera pans back to Zack.]

“Okay, so… He seems really out of it. Really engrossed in that book there. We gotta get through that noggin of his.”

[the camera pans back to the catatonic SOLDIER.]

"Sephiroth! Hey! Sephiroth! Sepppppphiroth!! I'm talking to you, man. HelloooooOOO?? Holy Ifrit... HEY! SEÑOR SEPHIROTH! STOP READING FOR A SEC, would'ja???"

[there's another bout of silence.]

"Dear Gaia... What’s going on with you?? Why aren't you responding? Sephiroth! Sepppphirottth.”

[following yet another wordless stretch, Zack swings the camera back around, rubbing his neck with an expression of both frustration and hurt.]

“Alright… guess he left me with no choice. Time for extreme measures.”

[the camera hobbles a little as Zack approaches the soulless SOLDIER.]

“Ah, screw it. Who cares if I don’t stick to the formalities…”

[an inky splotch of black momentarily covers the lenses, not wanting to capture the horrid images and texts that had seemingly possessed his friend, leaving only the teen’s gentle voice to provide any content.]

“…Hey. Bud. It’s me. Hey—yeah, I’m gonna put my arm here if you don’t put that thing down. I miss you… alright? You have any idea how long you’ve been down here? Gaia, pal… those bags… Look… you need some rest. Okay? We can talk alllllll this out in the morning. Let’s just go, okay? You’ll feel better after a good snooze…—“

“—I… c-ant…”

“You can, pal. These books aren’t going nowhere. I’m not going nowhere. Not without you.”

[another swath of silence stretches over the two SOLDIERs, the blackened smudge shifting slightly against the lenses.]

“Look, bud. Look. I know what he said is screwed up. I know what you saw is screwed up. But it doesn’t change anything… okay? You’re still my friend… you’re still Sephiroth. You’re still my old pal. You’re still…”

[even through the inky smudge, shards of blue are seen dancing across the camera, a cursory glance being cast toward the lenses in consideration.]

“…Y’know what. Fuck whatever they hear. You’re human, Seph… Not some alien. Not a monster. Not anything but the kind and lovable person that you are. And… and I’ma jerk for not telling you that sooner. I shoulda told you that the moment Genesis said those horrible things in the reactor. I shoulda told you that day of being here… okay? And I never ever ever ever want you to forg…—“

[suddenly, smears of black and silver flash across the camera as it plummets to the ground, cutting out instantly upon impact.]

.

.

.

.

[and it cuts back in a nebulous amount of time later, titled sideways, unknowingly capturing the sight of General Sephiroth slumped in the sheltering arms of his best friend.]

“Shh… it’s okay, pal. It’s okay… let it out. Let it out. I’m not going anywhere…”

—————————————

[the camera flashes on to reveal a smiling Zack leaning against his headboard at the Nibelheim Inn, happily accompanied by a freshly-showered Sephiroth, tresses of golden sunlight streaking in through the open window beside them.]

“Heyyyyyy, world and all who inhabit it! Zack Fair here, and I’m coming to you RIGHT from the Nibelheim Inn! Today I got my best friend and ex-commander here, Mr Señor Sephiroth!”

[Zack slings an arm around his buddy’s shoulders, earning himself an amused grunt from the mercury-haired man.]

“Yes. Hello, inhabitants of the world.”

“You wanna add a littttleeee bit more cheer—?”

“No.”

“Okie doke. You wanna at least tell ‘em the news?”

[the camera pans so that it is completely facing Sephiroth, green eyes well-rested and gleaming under morning’s warm embrace.]

“Hnph. Fine. As of this moment—“

“Say ‘breaking news!’”

“I will eat you whole.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just say it!”

[silver bangs sway against the lenses as Sephiroth shakes his head.]

“…Fine. Breaking new: as of this moment forward, both I General Sephiroth and First Class Zack Fair officially resign from SOLDIER. Cadet Cloud Strife will also be discontinuing his duties and is currently staying with a beloved family member.”

[Zack’s euphoric cheer is heard behind the camera.]

“Heck yeah!! Oh, and! For the record: all future episodes of ‘Zack Tracks’ will be recorded with my new partner here! Woooo!”

“I didn’t agree to this.”

“Bummer, ‘cause you’re doing it.”

[before an utterance of protest can be made, Zack takes the camera back from his pal.]

“Anywhoooo! Anything you wanna say to the people before we sign off, pal?”

[the camera lingers on Sephiroth’s face for several beats following the question, capturing the traces of wistfulness that flicker through his emerald eyes, the almost pensive pulse that ripples through those celestially human pupils as he contemplates an appropriate closure for Everything.]

“…Yes. I do.”

[and the camera zooms in, focusing on his sincere expression, aged and weathered from all the ravaging storms that have opened up to what he calls his life.]

“Hojo, you can disrespectfully burn in the deepest and most incandescent stoves in Hell.”

[a simple click, and the footage goes black.]

[lastleggysee]

Beach Day with the Last Legacy M3

Because we were robbed of a canon beach episode.

Word count: 1,917

Warnings: None that I can think of, but if you notice any please let me know!

Felix didn't want to go to the beach at all, and he made his opinion well known through sarcastic comments throughout the week leading up to the event.

"If I wanted to bake myself I could just step into the oven."

"No, I love the beach. I'm especially fond of how you carry masses of sand home with you afterwards, like a second trip."

"All I'm saying is the sea beasts have a point, devouring beachgoers. I would do the same if the rancor arrived at my doorstep."

He even thought he'd be able to use sleeping in as an excuse, purposefully ignoring the sounds of his companions readying themselves for the day outside of his chamber doors. However, he was unable to carry out his plan to fruition when Sage somehow breaks through the locks (and wards) of his door, ripping the blankets from Felix's pretend-sleeping form and bringing him upright in bed. From the hallway, Felix hears Anisa yell something about having "less than an hour" before departure, and he sighs, knowing he's lost this fight.

Felix spends most of the morning choosing what books to bring along and casting anti-sunburn wards on himself. He deliberately chooses a thick, yellowed tome on ancient runes to disguise the romance novel he actually plans on reading while there (which is also conveniently beach-themed). Reluctantly, he dresses in his outfit for the day (I like to imagine his bathing suit is one of those old-timey, striped suits with a sheer black cover-up robe on top), and goes to make himself a strong cup of tea before departure. 

Once arriving at the beach, Felix does not help set up a site for the day, insisting that it was Anisa or Sage’s idea in the first place, so he should be excluded from the effort on principle. This is with the exception of the umbrella, though, because Sage always stakes it in the “wrong” place. He sits under the umbrella for most of the day, enjoying his novel and sipping on the wine Anisa so generously remembered to pack for him, keeping it cool with magic. He’s not exactly relaxed, it’s still dreadfully hot out, and the chair he reclines in is not nearly as comfortable as the thick cushions he rests on at Fathom, but the day still washes easily over him, and Felix is silently grateful for the variety. 

Felix has a quiet reverence for the ocean. Its vastness, its depth; it reminds him a lot of magic. The way it is both a familiar presence and unfathomable mystery, its balance of chaos and predictability; these qualities sit in a familiar juxtaposition in his mind, and Felix pleasantly  watches the waves crash over the tops of his pages. 

While grazing on some of the snacks Anisa packed, his back turned to the ocean, Felix felt something sink in the pit of his stomach. Before he could turn around, he felt large, strong arms envelop him, lifting him from his place on the ground. He recognized it as Sage before he even saw his face. Felix protested, threatening spells and fire and dismemberment, but Sage did not relent until Felix felt the water lapping at his ankles. 

“Still want me to put you down?” Sage asked, a tinge of mischief in his voice. 

“Yes, you absolute beast -” Felix started, but was cut off with a mouthful of salt water as Sage dropped him directly into the waves. 

“See? S’not so bad.” Sage makes out between booming laughter, and for perhaps the first time that day Felix agrees with him.



Anisa spent most of the day before the trip preparing. This meant that she spent at least half of the day picking out exactly what could go wrong, and making plans for whatever she would be able to do about it, and preparing supplies accordingly. 

First aid kit? Check. Extra sunscreen? Packed. 

Weapons? Already tucked into the bottom of the picnic basket. 

A spare pan and firestarter in case she finds a dolphin and finally gets the chance to try it? It was one of the first things she packed. After all, you showed up out of nowhere, there’s a chance a dolphin might as well. 

Where Anisa really spent most of her time, though, was the picnic basket she prepared. Anisa genuinely believes that food is a love language, and the attention to detail she pays to each meal she prepares is a testament to this. She made little sandwiches, cut the crust off of the edges, and folded them neatly into colorful napkins. She chopped fruit and carefully packaged it in containers for herself, Felix, and Sage to snack on later. She even included some of Felix’s favorite wine (she figured anything that may sweeten his sour mood was well worth the space spent to carry it along) and some street cakes from the market for Sage. She took pride in her work and wanted to make sure she put forth every effort to make the day as perfect as possible. 

She could hardly sleep the night before the trip, thinking about how long it had been since she actually had fun and enjoyed herself; much less with her group of friends in tow. It excited her, stirring butterflies in her stomach at the idea of it all, but also felt somehow strange. In her late 20s, could she still enjoy the beach like she had as a child? Could she find respite from the weights of her knightly duties upon her shoulders after carrying them for so long? Despite falling asleep later than she intended, she was the first to wake up, sipping her tea on the balcony at Fathom with a tentative anticipation for the day. 

At the beach, Anisa sets up most of the site, unpacking all of her hard work and laying it out on the sand. She sits and watches the waves for a long while at first, remembering times in her youth where she’d sat on similar beaches with her mother. Anisa likes the wildness of the waves, the sounds of other beachgoers around her, and the scent of salt in the air that always seems to work its way into her skin before the day is over. 

She wades into the water at Sage’s insistence (meaning, Sage yelling her name at a surprising volume from his place in the water), enjoying the cool feel of the waves against her feet and legs as she adjusts to the temperature difference. Feeling the steady pull and crash of the water against her knees, she feels a joy rise in her chest that she realizes she hasn’t felt in a long time. Anisa splashes Sage with water when she reaches him, but aside from that one act of playfulness she spends the majority of her time swimming alone and enjoying herself in the water. 

After a while in the water, Anisa reclines in the sun on one of the towels she brought, resting in the warmth of the sun and idly snacking on some of the fruit she brought. She hears Felix muttering to himself over the novel he’s reading, along with the sound of gulls and other beachgoers, but she allows it to all wash over her over the sound of the waves. She needed this, she thinks. 

Raising another piece of fruit to her lips, she decides that she’ll make Sage be the one to pack and carry all the supplies back.



Sage was objectively the one most excited to go to the beach; probably because he was the one who objectively did the least amount of preparation for the event. He’s always been a “go with the flow” sort of guy, so when the invitation presented itself he took it, no questions asked and no sense of responsibility attached. 

Sage used to hate the beach. As a child, he used to fish from it (and steal fish from the other fishermen there) to feed himself and Tulsi. There was a time when the salty air and rhythmic crashing of waves caused similar waves of adrenaline to roll throughout his body. Nonetheless, he has just as many pleasant memories at the beach - swimming, drinking, and spending days in the sun before he joined the Starsworn. If he tries, he can still recall some drunken evenings with Lucan and other Griefers on the beach despite the haze his alcohol consumption at the time placed over his memories. 

The morning of the day, Sage rolled out of bed, feeling surprisingly well-rested and ready for the day ahead of him. Having long since misplaced (or did one of his companions misplace it for him?) his admittedly tight leather swimsuit, he opts to dress himself in a simple pair of shorts and his telltale red coat. Of course, Sage still has at least two knives hidden with him for the day ahead, but he leaves his sword at Fathom. 

He passes Anisa in the hallway and tells her to calm down, that today was supposed to be about relaxation, and is promptly i(playfully) hit upside the head with one of her umbrellas. Sage listens to her mutter to herself about Felix still lazing in bed, though, and makes it his business to take at least this off of her plate and wake Felix up. 

When he arrives at the beach, he immediately runs into the water. He enjoys the feeling of the sun on his skin, the way it warms him completely from the top of his head to his feet. He enjoys the feel of the current, its pull against his body, knowing that he’ll still feel it long after he’s departed from the beach as he lies in bed that night. Pleasant memories of his childhood spent at the beach float to the surface of his mind as he floats on the surface of the water, more relaxed than he’s felt in weeks. 

Of course, this relaxation is short-lived when Anisa decides to take a dip in the water, but the playful interaction is welcome as Sage swings his arm across the surface of the water to splash her. 

Looking back to shore, he notices Felix still in the same spot he’d been in all day. Sage knew Felix wasn’t a fan of fun, but he finds it absolutely ridiculous the way Felix will spend this one day outside of Fathom with his nose buried in a book. 

“Do you think he’s always been so uptight?” Sage asks, golden eyes still fixed on Felix. 

Anisa scoffs. “I think Escell must’ve given him textbooks and an abacus to play with as a child.”

It’s at this moment that Sage decides that if Felix won’t have any fun on his own, maybe he could use a little help. He slings Felix over one of his shoulders and brings him out into the water, laughing all the way despite his protests. 

When the day is finally over, Sage makes a big show of complaining as Anisa insists that he be the one to re-pack and carry all of their supplies back. Sage protests at first, even threatening to the others that he would simply spend the night at the beach rather than to do any of that, but he eventually agrees. 

Over a series of grunts, expletives, and some admittedly poor attempts at folding, Sage repeats an exasperated question. 

“Annie, how in the hells did you manage to pack all this into one stupid basket?”

[jadetheblueartist]

IM SO SORRY I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED YOUR TEGAN ASK

I feel so bad :( you said it took you three hours and also I had written a huge response and now it’s gone ;-;

Okay so I’m going to rewrite my response but I’m really sorry if I get things wrong since now I can’t review what you sent ;-;

————

I LOVE THE IDEA SO MUCH!!!! And I would love to hear more about their training and life on the ship!

I may be obsessing over Talon and Megan a tad bit…

I love all the possibilities of how they passed the time in the car so much. It would be so awkward at the start and I’m all here for it!! I imagine Talon carried most of the conversation from the beginning until after they really got to know each other. I feel like at the start Talon would just awkwardly try to tell her what has happened to the earth while she was gone in hopes of starting some conversation. I’m imagining the parking lot picnic with them just drinking slushees and eating whatever gas station food seemed good (I’m assuming everything is kind of run down?)

Car karaoke. Oh it would be amazing. Talon trying to find songs Megan likes and trying to get her to sing along, windows rolled down, it’d be such a vibe.

With the race scene I can’t stop picturing the scene from princess bride where they both are rolling down the hill XD

Their relationship is so great, two strangers bonding in a long car ride… oh wait they already knew each other? They were already in love from book one? But Megan’s memory was wiped- WAIT NO THEY WERE IN LOVE AND HER MEMORY WAS WIPED!?!? Okay, okay, it’s fine at least they became close again, just a fresh start nothing to worry about… HER MEMORY WAS WIPED A SECOND TIME!?!? TALON THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD!?!?!? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (this is so tragic but I love it so much)

Talon nooooo why the tragic backstory ;-; (I love it very much)

Oh and the art? I LOVE IT SO MUCH!! I love Talon’s design!!!!!! The drawing of him saying happy birthday to himself makes me so sad ;-;

Also question time!

Do you have designs for the sci fi ppl? Are they like aliens or just advanced humans chilling in space? Does Talon hide his tattoo? (I love that type of angst so much mhm hidden scars [in this case a tattoo tho]) and you said there was an image limit… could I see those drawing you couldn’t show? Also why is it called Tegan (is it bc Talon + Megan = Tegan…)? That should be all of my questions…

Anyway I absolutely love this story and please feel free to tell me more whenever! (I’d love to hear a lil more about Ivan too)

Again really sorry abt deleting the ask ;-; I hope you have an amazing day though!!

(I feel like I’m forgetting things I wanted to mention but idk)

Oh my I wrote out this whole thing and it deleted it for me hahaha let’s try this again

No worries about deleting the ask it happens hahaha and it doesn’t look like you got anything wrong so yay!

I’m gonna answer this paragraph by paragraph

-IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT and I’m pretty sure I have either the original google doc or a “Megan’s POV” doc that I can look into to give you those details :)

-I’m so glad you’re obsessing so we can be in the same boat

-I’ve been mulling over that car scene for years and somehow you managed to squeeze out even more serotonin for me to devour I thank thee. And I think it’s run down ish, like people are still there but WW3 is kind of happening/ just happened soooo you know

-it would be the vibiest ^^

-I’m so glad you said that bc I couldn’t connect the dots as to what that scene reminded me of but yeah that’s amazing

-IKR the mind wiping rocked my world. My friend was at the point where she was writing the post separation explosion and we were on face time and she casually mentioned “oh you know the cars weren’t the first time they met, right?” I went feral trying to get all the info out of her hahaha

-yes his backstory makes me so sad…

-I’m glad you like the design! It was our group’s “hot guy” design hahaha I’ve tried to make it more individualized to him over the years tho, and that happy birthday one gets me every time (especially since that’s probably how he spent most his birthdays…)

Yay Question Time!

-I believe I could at least get the designs for those people sometime soon. They are just random people who decided to work for big bad (aka the voice, bc they only heard his voice through speakers at first). The voice decided he could make some good money abducting children and forcing them to be assassins so he did that. The government doesn’t know about them bc they hide in space. The few organizations trying to take them down are the only ones who really know about it

-talon has a few different tattoos, the one he got initiated with is a tattoo/ permanent burn so it has to stay covered to protect it, the other is just on his neck and he leaves that one in the open (I can point it out in the pics below)

-and yes! Tegan is the ship name for Talon and Megan (it was that or Melon hahaha)

-Ivan didn’t really have much personality in the oh other than he was angry bc the scientist that snuck into the escape ship was dating his crush, I’ve made some personal modifications to him in my head though making him more protective rather than just angry (he’s also Megan’s cousin) and I just remembered I have a drawing of him? So cue the picture section :)

Picturesssss

Here’s Ivan, the permanent third wheel (he doesn’t know tho)

The first ever drawings of Talon and Megan 😬

Moving on… idk which of these are repeats so lemme know if they are and I could probably substitute them for new pics

And now the og Megan design vs the much needed redraw

Ughhhh the one on the left still haunts me…

I was struck by the limit again so I might reblog this with a few more, idk hahaha

But reading through this ask made me so happy you have no idea (insert the “I don’t normally feel things but that one got through” donnie gif)

Thank you so much and I’ll look into the daily life on the ship and the sci fi guy designs :)

[personasintro]

I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WORKS MIMI!

I will write 2 messages now.

1/2

First of all, I have read a reply you posted a few weeks ago in which you said that when MH ends, many people will lose interest in you/your works. That's absolutely not true. I'm a writer myself on Wattpad (more of Italian poetry and some short stories) and I was never interested in reading anything on Wattpad, nor I am a big reader in general. Ironic, isn't it? Being a writer and not liking reading that much. There are about like 5 books I have read in all my life. I am very freaking picky with stories, I hate clichés and I usually hate the Fan Fictions about existing people. But, when I first discovered you on TikTok, I was confused about what the hell is MH. This book kept blowing up on my home and at some point I got so curious and annoyed, that I decided to look up at it. When I started reading it, I don't know what possessed me, but I literally DEVOURED this book. Some days I didn't sleep just to read. Didn't study for anything. Just wanted to read. This happened with me only one time with a book. This was my second time but the butterflies I got with it, it's unbelievable. You made me rethink about what I look for a man, and I understood that I want a man like MH JK, who treats me like a princess and craves for me. I want someone who wants me physically and mentally. I'm very similar to MH JK to be honest, I'm just like him in friendships or relationships. Very dominant, flirty, gentle and kind. So I think that now I realised that it's better to settle for someone similar to me, like him. A bit narcissistic but I know my worth and how I treat people. Anyways, the thing is that it's not only MH, but your writing style is addictive. So once this book ends, I will sit here and wait upcoming new works by you. Because you became my favourite author on Wattpad (even though I know about all the situation with that platform, and I'm very sorry and mad). Probably you're my favourite second author, or first, I can't decide. I really enjoyed reading some of your other works, so I can tell you that it's you who got my attention, not only MH. Please, keep doing what you're doing. MH is an obsession for me, I love reading it because it helps me to kinda cope with my stress and feeling of loneliness. Just do what you want to do, leave negative comments behind and remember that there are people like me, who crave to see what you're going to write next. Just your ideas and imagination. It's exciting and unpredictable. Thank you for your work, I wish the platforms could pay you, because your works are worth of money. Sometimes I just want go gatekeep you hahah, but I also wish you to become successful if someday you'll decide to publish something very serious. Now I'll write the second message about MH only, and send it after this.

-July <3

Well, let me begin by telling you thank you and sorry! Thank you for writing me this message(s) – I'm counting the other one as well but I'll get to it after this – and sorry for taking so long in responding! 🥺

You made me rethink about what I look for a man, and I understood that I want a man like MH JK, who treats me like a princess and craves for me. I want someone who wants me physically and mentally. I'm very similar to MH JK to be honest, I'm just like him in friendships or relationships. Very dominant, flirty, gentle and kind. So I think that now I realised that it's better to settle for someone similar to me, like him. A bit narcissistic but I know my worth and how I treat people.

Yes! Don't settle for anything less. It's also not narcissistic at all and you're right. You know your worth. We're so used to having low standards that we barely consider raising the bar. Why? So we could all be in a relationship and later on be disappointed? It's not narcissistic at all to have high standards and I wish more people would realize and know their worth. I'm so happy you have taken something positive from the story and the character itself!

Like I said in a previous post that you're referring to, I do think there are readers who are here specifically for MH and nothing more. And that's fine and completely understandable and normal. I see the change and difference, and that's how it is. But there are also readers who enjoy my work itself, just like you do and either way, I am happy that someone is actually reading my stories. I'm so grateful for the sweetest words you've written here and I'll cherish this message for A LONG time!

I'll get to your second message now ♡

[sumire-no-nikki]

Feb Reads, March Hopes

It feels as if I have stepped over a threshold.

Captured in these photos are small glimpses of a February savored. Dinners were mostly hot pots born out of desperation to cling onto the fleeting cold, knowing it will soon be too warm for it. From the dining room I watched the sun bleed red-orange, the sun setting later and later as each day passed.

Every year February thaws and a bare March follows. The windows remain open for longer periods of time, birdsong growing louder outside. Nothing is more regular than that. Yet it catches me unaware, without fail. I go to bed at the end of February and open my eyes to a new world as the calendar flips to a new month. I am writing this on my dining table on a slow Saturday and I am filled with sighs.

Truth is, I feel like the spring and summer months require so much of me. It’s too noisy, too crowded. While I love seeing the green and feeling the warmth on my bare skin, I’m a little possessive of the colder months. In the end I am most myself when it's gray outside and there is a storm brewing in the sky. I feel free to roam when I am invisible and the land asks nothing of me. But the time has come to relinquish my Winter solitude and I must now give some of myself to the Earth again. Here I am reluctantly facing March, daring to be optimistic but remaining cautious. I look at myself in the mirror and ask myself: what will grow in my garden this year? What will I sow? In what way will I bloom into change?

That all sounds melancholy, but really February was a good month, and March holds important events that will open possibilities for me. I am excited in a lot of ways though equally anxious because, well, that is just the way I am.

Now, indulge me. I have a lot to say about the books I read this month!!

1. The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller

I devoured this one. It’s my friend H’s favorite book plus I read Circe some years ago so I had high expectations. And wow, I was absolutely floored. I listened to the first half while cleaning the house. I was making my way downstairs when I got to the part where P and A finally confess to each other and I literally had to stop and grasp the bannister. I was so moved by this book I was practically doubled over in pain by the time I got to the end. Such love!! The novel is a celebration of words, honestly. You can feel every brushstroke on the literary canvas with each word—the impasto, the contrast, the movement. Every feeling is so vivid. I’m officially a fan of Madeline Miller. I’m just in awe.

2. Water - John Boyne

This is the second book of Boyne that I’ve read and I’m proud to say he is officially now a member of my favorite authors club. This novel, aptly titled Water, is absolutely gut wrenching in the same way waves take centuries to carve out a cave into a cliff. By that I mean it’s atmospheric, slow, subtle. But it is also relentless and powerful. This book took my breath away despite being rather short.

After finishing this book I went online to look up more of Boyne’s work and discovered that Water is a part of “The Elements” quartet series. The new installment called “Earth” is coming out soon and I’m excited to have a new series to anticipate in the coming years! Having read Water and knowing it’ll be a quartet, I can’t help but compare it to the “Seasonal Quartet” series by Ali Smith. I have a thing for quartets, alright. There’s something about a thematic and symbolic collection of stories. It’s so ripe with imagery and it gets my mind sprinting with ideas, especially if it’s tied to nature like Boyne and Smith’s respective quartets are. I will say that even with just one book out of the planned quartet, John Boyne’s is more approachable than Ali Smith. I find it difficult to suggest Ali Smith to people in my life because she requires a lot of effort and time. Both quartets deal with contemporary injustices and complex societal issues in their own way, but I find Boyne’s attempt at this a little more accessible. Highly recommend this one!

3. Divine Rivals - Rebecca Ross

An out of my comfort zone pick as it’s YA, fantasy and romance—the three of the four genres I struggle with (the fourth one being sci-fi). But Rebecca Ross is the one author I trust when it comes to fantasy, and she has never let me down.

I associate a lot of good memories and feelings with Rebecca Ross books. Some years ago, I was living in the south and frequented this particular indie bookshop in the historic district. One Sunday, I was browsing the fantasy section of that bookshop, just because I had nothing better to do. My eyes landed on a book called “Sisters of Sword and Song,” which is one of the few in that section that wasn’t all black with a jagged angsty font on it. The blurb was intriguing enough, I read the first two pages and found it pleasant, so I purchased it. I bid the bookstore cats goodbye and drove home to enjoy it. Sure enough, when I got back to my apartment, the book sucked me in. It’s a fantasy world but the aesthetic and world building is heavily rooted in Ancient Greece so my imagination went wild reading it. I remember really enjoying the book and making a mental note to read more Rebecca Ross. That was some years back when she only had three books out. Now it seems she has become more popular with eight books under her belt.

Going into this new duology of her I must admit I had quite the expectation. But I am happy to say that the verdict on Divine Rivals is: it’s great. I was not disappointed at all. I was hooked within the first twenty pages! The romance got a tad too cheesy and sweet near the end but I enjoyed the characters a lot. I’m still reeling from the slow burn, enemies-to-lovers feast I had last year from The Mirror Visitor series by Christelle Dabos. Divine Rivals has allowed me to keep that enjoyment going with Iris and Roman. I’m going to read the sequel to it this month and see what I feel about the duology as whole. But for now, I will say I enjoyed it!

4. The Reckless Oath We Made - Bryn Greenwood

The fourth and final book of February is a novel by Bryn Greenwood called "The Reckless Oath We Made." I’ve read a Bryn Greenwood book before, a controversial book titled "All The Ugly and Wonderful Things" that I randomly picked from the book section of a Target. I enjoyed that book a lot actually and it’s a good example of why imposing moral judgements on an author and policing the events in a fictional work will corrode general literacy. I won’t go into it here because that’s a topic for a different (lengthy) post. For now I will say that "The Reckless Oath We Made" is great and as expected from a daring writer like Greenwood. Not as compelling as her preceding work, but this one is just as intellectually stimulating. I find literature that combines unlikely pairings to be so meaty. I like the feeling of being tested, learning new ways to empathize and understand. This book did just that by presenting characters that have aspects that aren’t socially easy to digest. But most importantly, the book did not require them to become “normal” in the end and in doing so demonstrates the radical power of acceptance. I thoroughly enjoyed this read.

If you couldn’t tell yet, I’m really happy with my reads this month. I’m not the type to be strict about what book I want to read next. (Odd, now that I think about it, because I’m as Type A as it gets on just about everything else.) When it comes to reading, I prefer to go with my mood. At any rate I have a small pile of books next to my reading chair so one of those will be the lucky book.

I’ve written quite a bit, haven’t I? I’m waiting for lunch to finish reheating (it’s just leftover Japanese cream stew). I say lunch but it’s closer to an early supper at this point. I spent most of the morning cleaning the house and playing with my cats. As for tomorrow, I have nothing planned for once so I think I will uncover the backyard furniture and give my bike a tuneup in preparation for Spring. Sometime next week, whenever it’s sunny enough, I will ride my bike to an Edeka and pick up some tulips and Roggenbrot. I haven’t done that in a while. Oh, the new Faye Webster album came out yesterday so I’m going to give that a full listen (and a couple of repeats if I’m honest because I love her, haha).

For now I leave you with some savory dango I made some days ago. (It was a bit chewy and needed a bit more kneading. I’ll make them better next time!) Plus, a song by my favorite artist, Siv Jakobsen. It’s from her latest album, Gardening, and was the lead single. It's a song that, at least to me, represents a bittersweet Spring. The album came out last year, but this song itself was released in April(?) of 2022! How bizarre. I swear it doesn’t feel like two years ago.

Anyway, I’ve already mentioned earlier that March is a month that will decide certain changes for me for reasons I do not want to disclose yet because I feel like I might jinx it. But I hope that the next time I write, it will be filled with good news and anticipation. My fingers are crossed!

Cheerio!

P.S.: I've just realized that every single photo I’ve taken and posted of me walking consists of a long skirt and a pair of DMs. I swear I’m capable of wearing other clothing and shoes lol, this is just, evidently, my go-to getup. It doesn’t have to say anything about me, but I’m the type to wonder anyway!