#I am but a slave to my muse

[six-demon-bag]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Brock Rumlow Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, No mpreg, Dubious Consent, dubcon due to heat, Omega Brock Rumlow, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, Bonding, Accidental Bonding, dubcon bonding bc neither of them really knows what theyre doing, Knotting, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Marking, Biting, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Not Beta Read, Coming Untouched Series: Part 1 of slippery thoughts Summary:

Alone with the soldier, Rumlow discovers he’s not a beta when he unexpectedly goes into heat.

[velociraptorsaurusrex]

I wanted him dead; I wanted him all to myself.

get him back!

[arcielee]

Look, I know Erryk died in the end of Devotion. I understood your vision and the angst of it all. But could you consider writing a sequel where… he didn’t die? Like, he got seriously hurt and *almost* died, but didn’t? I just more of him.

Hello, my darling anon 🥰 Unfortunately, I cannot. The muses (*cough* @opheliax98 *cough*) inspired me to write this and I cannot see it in any other way.

But please feel free to enjoy At last, when all of the world is asleep if you are looking for Ser Erryk to have a happy ending.

[muninnhuginn]

So, the thing with Qiu Qingzhi vs Qiu Shenji is that they *are* different characters in a lot of ways. Qiu Shenji is more explicitly morally complex whilst what we see of Qiu Qingzhi is much lighter grey, all considered. But the root of their sense of morality remains, for the most part, identical.

In both cases, they have people they prioritise as "their" people. And for these people, they would sell the world. In the cdrama, this applies to Li Bing and the former slaves/convicts. In the manhua/donghua, it's the people working beneath him (such as General Lang in her former role).

Qiu Shenji is very much running the numbers game in a way that implicitly devalues the lives of civilians, purely because of the potential that the civilians could themselves be sleeper agents. He's been burnt before by doing the "compassionate" thing and so now would rather his troops get away safe, even at the expense of potential innocents. He even outright says something to this effect in his discussion with Minister Xu. If it's not their blood on the ground, then it's his.

To be quite frank, it's entirely possible that Qiu Qingzhi is off doing similar maths in the background of the cdrama, and it's an adaptational choice not to make that too explicit. But at the same time, Qiu Qingzhi's chosen people are not *necessarily* the same as Qiu Shenji's. And so the people he is willing to sacrifice to achieve his aims and protect those close to him differ accordingly.

The cdrama doesn't overly concern itself with asking questions of morality, being focused on more personal stakes overall, rather than weighing up any lofty ideas of what constitutes "ends justify the means" or the distant idea of a "greater good".

But just looking at the wider framework here. Qiu Shenji and Qiu Qingzhi are both a lot more politically aware than Li Bing and this heavily informs their actions. Li Bing can afford to rally for justice because of the space that's been made for him to do so. Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji do not have that option.

In Qiu Qingzhi's case, it's because his upbringing as a slave cannot be cast off. (Both he and Lai Zhongzhu have this in common. Where the donghua/manhua go for morality and politics, the cdrama goes more for class commentary. Qiu Qingzhi and Lai Zhongzhu both claw their way up from their birth stations and yet neither can remain there for long. They would never *truly* be accepted, not matter what actions they take to prove their loyalty). He has seen how disposable he and his fellow slaves are considered to be and so knows he cannot put a foot wrong.

In Qiu Shenji's, it's because he knows full well how easily he can be implicated by his former relationship with the Li family. (Something that the actual Li Bing was politically astute enough to pick up on years before any rebellion had taken place) And, honestly, even with his other reasons, I wouldn't be surprised if that also plays somewhat into why he's so overzealous in quashing rebellions. The idea of taking down rebels so viciously that he cannot ever be accused of being one himself.

Both Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji act strongly in their determination to achieve their aims. They want to shoulder the hard acts because they believe that they *have* to be done, but at the same time, are entirely willing to take on that burden *alone* without demeaning those who feel differently.

For Qiu Shenji, General Lang mentions she couldn't stomach his rebel-quashing tactics and so he made sure to obtain her a position elsewhere. She says he had also done this for others and seems thankful, even as she must know she is still complicit. Qiu Shenji knows how he is seen by the general populace, but thinks it an acceptable sacrifice for maintaining peace.

For Qiu Qingzhi, he made his deal with Yi Zhihua and then locked out Li Bing entirely, despite all their history. He would rather Li Bing hate him but be safe than let him in and put him at risk.

Both Qiu Qingzhi and Qiu Shenji commit to drown themselves in the blood of others so that they can protect "their" people. They made their decisions long ago and remain committed. Even choking, caged in a trap slowly tightening around them, they will not flee.

[tearueful]

"I should work on all those WIP I have," I say as I open a new draft and start typing out a new concept.

[kareenvorbarra]

I finished The Wolf Den…the whole book messed me up (in a good way) and I cried near the end - I don’t remember the last time a book made me cry??? It really was what I wanted from a book on that subject, all the characters felt real and were treated with a lot of compassion, and I’m glad I found it. obviously the sequel will be different but I am looking forward to it

[sunny-daze-ahead]

my brain requires me to make roommates for all the twst characters so i'll be back in a bit

[juletheghoul]

regrets

a/n: I cannot seem to stop myself from taking these amazing requests and going on a rampage because Marcus Acacius is my literal muse at this point. I bought my tickets for the movie and I am not going to know how to fucking act in that theatre. I sort of ran with this request, and inevitably it turned into feelings! This un-beta'd, barely edited request. All mistakes and errors are mine! Hope you enjoy what I came up with! (this is before the last chapter)

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, talk of war, Marcus is a soft boi at heart and he has some regrets about being a hoe in his younger days, *feelings*, also he takes a lil tumble but he's fine! Marcus gets wine-drunk, but he's still in control of his faculties, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus - let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.2k (😅)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

His face lit up, brighter and happier than you’d seen him, maybe ever. 

You smile to yourself from your place behind him, basking in the warmth of his mirth. The visitor had come unannounced but more welcome than any before him. An old, dear friend from his days as a mere footsoldier in the Roman army. Marcus opened his arms to the man, ushering him into his home with an almost uncharacteristic warmth–to anyone who didn’t truly know him. 

“Gods, but it has been years has it not Marcus? Since our days on the march?” The man asks him, a tired sigh on his breath. 

“Indeed it has. An age, we were mere boys then.” Marcus drains his wine and holds the cup out, you are already there, pouring just as it reaches you.

“Troublesome boys, wicked things were we not? We seemed to attract all kinds of mischief.” The man laughs, and Marcus joins, although his laughter is laced with a groan, peppered with shame. 

“Do not remind me, we were terrors.” Marcus hides his face behind his cup, drinking with his eyes downcast and it’s that aversion that piques your interest. Visions of a younger, wilder Marcus fill your mind's eye, what had he done? The man laughs, and you keep your vigil behind your Dominus. 

“I hold the memories dear, even the unsavoury ones.” The man raises his cup, and Marcus bows his head, agreeing. “Wish I had kept the looks of my youth as you have old friend.” They laugh together, clinking their cups and remembering things they do not say out loud. 

The night wears on, and they drink until the hour grows late. When they begin to yawn, Marcus insists the man stays.

“Girl, see to the preparations of a room and then come tend to me.” He speaks slowly, carefully.

“Yes Dominus.” You smile, despite yourself.

-

When you walk into his room, he sits on his bed, staring at nothing.

“Dominus, are you well?” His eyes lock on you, he sways a little, only a little.

“Too much wine, I will feel this in the morning.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face as you approach. “I should have known.” There is no anger in him, only a resigned acceptance. 

“If I may be so bold Dominus, it seemed you were enjoying yourself.” You bring the basin over and dip a fresh piece of linen, his eyes track your movements.

“I saw a happiness in you that I have not seen before, I would see it more often if I had any say.” He tilts his face up to yours, and you cleanse it softly, smiling at the way his eyes close.

“Would you now, Girl, do you think me unhappy?” His voice is soft, but gravelly. It awakens the parts of your body that always awaken for him. It worsens when his hands land on your hips, pulling you to stand between his spread legs.

“No Dominus, well, at times yes. Not unhappy per say, but not the way I saw you tonight.”

“I am happy, Girl. I am happier than I have been in ages.” His hands rub at your hips, sliding down to grab at your ass. 

“It fills my heart with joy to hear that.” You run your fingers through his hair, admiring the flush in his cheeks, the sparkle of candlelight in his eyes. 

“And you? Are you happy, Girl?” He holds onto you, eyes locking onto yours and it feels bigger than it should, the question on his tongue.

“Yes Dominus, I am.”  A long, pregnant moment passes and the tension rises, swelling bigger and bigger. Your heart races and then he rises, or, he tries to.

Water from the basin had splashed onto the floor, and he slips. His eyes widen with shock as he lands on his backside on the floor at your feet. 

He sits in shock, his tunic pooling high on his thighs and it’s almost like someone else’s voice comes out of your mouth, a sharp bark of laughter comes out before you clap your hands to your mouth. 

He stares up at you, the shock of the fall, the shock of your laughter, the wine, the moment—he laughs; you both laugh. Deep, loud belly laughs fill the room until tears fall from your eyes, until he holds his stomach. Any fear, any tension is gone with the crinkle of his eyes and the rare glimpse of his dimple.

“Oh Gods, I am of a form.” He gets it out eventually, smiling wide from his place on the floor. 

“Apologies Dominus—“ the ache in your belly is so great you hold onto his bed. He waves away your apology, and carefully rises. “I did not mean to laugh—“

“Peace girl, it was something to laugh at.” He stands, careful of the offending spill and removes his tunic. “The sound of your laughter is welcome, always. I do not think you cruel.” 

You don’t know how to respond, the wine has brought down his guard and made him something open, something honest and human–nothing like he is when he is too long away from the battlefield, nothing like he is when his station in this life pulls at him. 

“I have not seen my friend in many years, it was nice to speak to him, to bask in the memories of my younger days. Even the ones I’d rather forget.” You let him speak, the novelty of his reminiscing making you smile as you prepare his bed for sleep. 

“It was worth the price I will pay in the morning.” You bite your lip, the questions–the curiosity eat away at you as you move around the room, blowing out a few of the candles. 

“I can see the turmoil, Girl, ask and I will alleviate.” He smiles, sitting on his bed. 

“Apologies Dominus, I wish to know what mischief you sought out, or rather, sought you out? I cannot picture you a terror.” You take the basin away and he lets out a huff of laughter. 

“Do not lie to me, Girl. You have seen my dark moods, I am a terror often.” He waves away the expression of shock, “You know my meaning. In truth I can be brutal, I know this, but it is in battle. In my younger days, on the march I was unruly. I found it hard to follow commands, so sure of myself–to my detriment–that I knew better, that I was wiser than those above my station. I paid for it and learned, grew wise but in those early days, we were rebellious.” He smiles, fondness and the ghosts of his past fresh in his mind. 

You finish your duties as he speaks but are loathe to leave him, so you come closer, feigning at straightening out his sheets and fussing at his bed as he speaks. 

“I was also cruel.” The smile morphs then, into something ashamed.

“Cruel? I do not believe it Dominus–” He raises a hand and your speech dies.

“I was, Girl. Exceedingly cruel, to women. I broke many a heart, took the virginity offered without a care and left them without so much as a word.” He shuts his eyes tight then and the playful, cheerful mood is lost. “I was not concerned with their feelings, I cared not about their honour, I simply took, and left like the thief I was.” He stares at his hands and although it was true, it had been cruel of him, it was the way most soldiers were. No right, no wrong, just the way of this world. 

“Do you regret it, Dominus?” You stand before him again, the same tableau as before.

“Yes, I do, Girl. I regret the hurt I caused, the selfishness of youth.” 

“That is enough then, I think. That you feel it this deeply, that you would change it if you could, that is enough. You need torture yourself no more, Dominus.” Your palm cups his face and he leans into it with a pained expression for a moment before his arms wrap around your waist. His face nuzzles against the valley between your breasts and you feel the way he breathes in your scent. 

“Stay with me.” He pulls at your tunic, lifting it up and off in one swift motion before pressing kisses to your skin. There is a desire shining in his eyes. For your body, yes, but there are memories he is rewriting with you now, something kinder, something infused with more want, with love—the thought pops up and you brush it away.

“Do you not desire sleep Dominus? You had said the wine–oh–” His mouth takes your nipple in a steady suck, pulling a soft moan from your lips, and any and all concerns about his state out of your head. 

He pulls away, flattening his tongue against the bud before moving to the next. 

“No amount of wine could dampen my desire for you, Girl. Shall I stop?” He watches you, eyes locked as he takes the other nipple in his mouth and you shake your head no. His teeth bite, the little shock of pain heightens the pleasure and your fingers grip his hair harder than you mean to but it only makes him moan into your skin as he soothes with his tongue. 

Slick pools at the mouth of your cunt, the desire for him so great it makes you ache. A sharp, hollow pain, like hunger pangs for his gift, for his body, for his love something whispers again, and again you ignore it.

“God’s Girl, you bring out a madness in me–” He pulls you down, his kiss so feral it almost hurts. Teeth clicking while you taste his wine-drenched tongue. You move to straddle him but you barely manage to sit before you find yourself on your back in the bed you’d just prepared. 

His kiss is all-consuming, it is contagious–it pulls you into the depths of his madness. When he pulls away, you’re almost disoriented. 

“Spread those pretty thighs for me, Girl, let me see what’s mine.” You bite your lip, skin on fire as you obey. He kneels between your spread legs, hand slipping down to palm himself as he watches you slip your hand down towards the silky hair at the juncture of your thighs. “Spread it open, I would see how wet you are.” he strokes himself slowly, eyes glazed as you follow his instructions, spreading yourself wide for his gaze. 

It feels depraved in the best way, to have him watch you while he pleasures himself. There is a power flowing through your veins, something sweet and wicked and a boldness grabs hold of you. You dip your fingers low to spread the arousal onto your fingers, scoop some of it up to swirl against your clit. 

“This is what I do when you do not call for me, Dominus. I touch myself like this, and think of you.” His hand lands on your knee, holding your leg up as he moans, wantonly at your admission. 

“What do you think of Girl? Tell me–” He squeezes at his cock, brow furrowed while his eyes rake over you. 

“I think of you taking me Dominus, I think of how good you feel, how big you are, how I can feel you for days, how I want nothing more than for you to come into my chamber and make me yours.” Your fingers speed up, the pleasure heightened by the depravity of it. 

“Do you flutter at the thought of me giving you this?” He presses the tip of himself to your entrance, not pushing inside but letting you feel him there. 

“Yes–” It’s a pained moan. The blunt tip of him spreads you just enough to tease, it’s an exquisite torture, one that could make you cry with arousal. 

“Tell me you want it, tell me you’ll die without it, tell me you want me, Girl.” He leans forward a little, enough to make you chase the relief of him but his grip at your knee moves down to your hip, holding you there. Your fingers almost lose their rhythm. You let out a pitiful whine. 

“Tell me, and I’ll give it to you, tell me you want me, tell me–” He begs now, and you nod frantically. 

“I need you Dominus, I need you, I will die without you, I beg of you, give me the relief of your body.” Your tone is high, something frantic, something pathetic, something desperate but it soothes something in him. 

It’s a tidal wave when he shoves himself inside to the hilt. The climax spreads through every vein, through your fingers and toes through his steady strokes. He falls to cover your body with his, his tongue licking into your mouth, every nerve alight as he moans into your mouth, his cock spilling his own passion deep into your womb within a few seconds.

“God’s above, I, that was–” He breathes hard against your mouth, his eyes darting about your face as you both pulse in and around one another, “I–” He seems a little lost for words. The euphoria is still bright in your body, and so you save him from himself. You pull him down for a kiss, soft and languid as you run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. 

“Shall I return to my chambers Dominus? Or shall I stay?” You push his hair back. The wine has made him forget himself, has made him forget that you are just his Girl, you have to remind him.

For the sake of your poor heart on the morrow.

“Stay.” You nod. 

–

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[ai-manre]

Dany's second to last chapter in ADWD is one of my favorites of the entire series, it reveals so much about her character.

The sky was a merciless blue, without a wisp of cloud in sight. The bricks will soon be baking in the sun, thought Dany. Down on the sands, the fighters will feel the heat through the soles of their sandals.

This is the chapter where the fighting pits are reopened. It opens with melancholy that she was letting something this heinous happen, that she lost what she had fought for to achieve a senseless and futile peace. What's the worth of peace if it's bought with the blood of slaves?

“The yellow silk.” The queen of the rabbits could not be seen without her floppy ears. The yellow silk was light and cool, and it would be blistering down in the pit. The red sands will burn the soles of those about to die. “And over it, the long red veils.” The veils would keep the wind from blowing sand into her mouth. And the red will hide any blood spatters.

Again and again, she thinks of the discomfort of those fighting in the pits while she sits comfortably in her seat. That very thought seems to disgust her and bring her despair.

When they caught sight of the palanquin emerging from the pyramid, a cheer went up from those nearest and spread across the plaza. How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

“One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen.” The street ahead had finally cleared. “Shall we continue on?”

What could she do but nod? One step, then the next, but where is it I’m going?

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. “Mother!” they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, “Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa,” until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts.

Behind her, Reznak leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Magnificence, hear how they love you!” No, she knew, they love their mortal art.

Hizdahr ignored the eunuch. “Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love.”

“It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband.” She could hear the boar snorting, the shouts of the spearmen, the crack of the pitmaster’s whip.

This chapter is full of Dany's musings of how she became the opposite of what she meant to be. She was the Mother of those fighting in the pits, not the ones in the stands, and it is at this point that she reaches the culmination of her Queen of Rabbits vs Mother of Dragons/Freedmen arc. She cannot take the horror of the fighting pits anymore and gets up to leave. And that is the moment Drogon appears, almost as if he knew it was time Dany was ready to shed the floppy ears.

Then-

Ser Barristan held her tightly. “Look away, Your Grace.”

“Let me go!” Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough. Ser Barristan was calling after her. Strong Belwas was still vomiting. She ran faster.

This, to me, is the culmination of her arc, of her finally reclaiming her identity as Daenerys Targaryen, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons. Not only because she actually rushes in to save Drogon and fight him at the same time, but because she finally feels the sand between her own toes.

Dany finally gets out of the seats of the nobility and into the fighting pits, the place where slaves fight and shed their blood. She feels the hot sand under her feet, just like they felt it, and she fights as they fought. She's one of them again, their champion, their rescuer. Not one of those sitting up with their tokars on, not the one sitting with the masters. She is fighting among them and faces off her deepest fear and finds only freedom beyond. That is Daenerys Targaryen.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader ( service top ), power bottom!dio, pegging, restraints, degradation, masturbation ( him ), all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eighteen [ dio brando + pegging ]

you could beg him all you wished.

you could scream and cry your please, masters until your throat was raw, and you choked on the dryness of your own mouth, but he still wouldn’t give you any pleasure. he was determined to make you suffer, and suffer you were doing, exactly.

Dio elicits a soft, throaty chuckle at your pitiful whimper, and he tilts his head to one side, peering down at you. “My, my, is my little possession feeling entitled, today?”

the visage of him hunkered down over you, knees spread wide and balancing on the balls of his feet, was driving you insane. your blurry eyeline trails along the slick, rubber cock that disappears as he descends upon it with a symphony of breathy grunting accompanying the action, and you’re so envious. he takes the fake phallus akin to the way that you usually take his cock, and even from your position, flat on the bed with your arms bound to together at the wrists above your head, you could see the way the pinkish ring clenched around the toy as he fucked it.

“I love that look on your face.” Dio swoons, wrapping one mighty fist around his cock and pumping in merciless, rapid-fire strokes, while his other palm rests on one knee, and he bounces up and down on the toy strapped to your groin. “That envious look. You hate to watch me have all the fun, don’t you?” your master muses, a devious grin etching his lips over sharp, pearly fangs. “What’s the matter? Do you hate me for not letting you feel good, too? Do you want to curse your master for it?”

“N-no, master…” you whine, laying your head to the side, watching him use you, before you added in a soft, pathetic tone, “I just… am begging for you to touch me, too. Or, a-at the very least, let me touch y-you—“ your eyes glue themselves to the way he jerked himself off; you could offer a much softer, warmer grasp. hell, you would even let him spit on your hands until they were dripping, that way your grasp felt more like your drooling cunt.

Dio’s brows screwed into a distasteful scowl as he huffs, and reaches out to plant his free hand on your chest, instead. the power and weight behind the movement is enough to knock the breath from your lungs, and you croak in response, eyelids fluttering. “Do you think me so weak, little fuck slave, that you could bat your eyelashes and pout, and I would give you exactly what you wanted?” he didn’t wait for an answer, sneering, he leans closer, his hips rocking back and forth as he takes to toy to its hilt, and moans in satisfaction. “You want so badly to feel pleasure, too, but your master has no use for your sloppy hole today. I want to get fucked,” his harsh words and the disregard he holds for your own ecstasy adds fuel to the wicked eroticism of this moment— of your master using you for his own gratification. “And, if I have to tie you to the bed and strap a fake cock on you in order to get what I want, I will do so. And you will thank me, once again, for the opportunity to please me; it is a privilege not many are gifted.” his abysmal, razor like fingernails scrape at your chest, dragging along one, hardened nipple, threatening to break your skin, and you shudder. “Because you, my little piece of meat, are little more than furniture to me.”

your eyes roll back at that.

why did your pussy clench when he compared you to furniture?

had Dio Brando truly broken you to the point of getting off for him, even as he demeaned you, and reduced you to nothing of worth?

you gargle a moan, your back arching as if in hopes to drive the dildo deeper into him, but his weight crashes down on you, pinning you in place. “Master!” you cry out, tears in your eyes, as your core weeps for his attention. a flick of his finger, at the very least, underneath the leather harness. “Please! I am going mad!”

“Fuckable furniture.” the rough pad of his thumb scrapes against the slit on his broad, pink tip, before he thrusts himself into his hand, gripping and moaning, swirling his hips to feel every inch of the cock jammed inside of him. Dio throws his head back with a happy grunt. “And furniture doesn’t fucking move. Furniture doesn’t beg for attention when it is owed none. Furniture is silent and subservient, dearest fucktoy.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hii I love your writing <333

can i request a fenrys x oc mate . Maybe where they don’t get along - either cause of aelin or something else and the oc is struggling to accept the bond due to trauma in her past

Thank you :))

Thank you for reading, darling. 🤍

warning: past trauma from forced ownership

Give it time

“Well what do you want me to fucking do?”, Fenrys growled fed up with the argument that had sparked over nothing once again. That had been happening awfully a lot now that the bind had snapped for you too. “Start by getting the fuck away from me”, you reached for the table knife before pointing it at him. “Kids, come on now”, Gavriel finally cut in, standing up from his seat to stand between you both. “Young love, how entertaining”, Lorcan chuckled crossing one foot over the other. “I’ll cut you next”, “Leave her the fuck alone”, you and Fenrys echoed in unison before turning your glares upon each other once more.

“Yn, give me the knife, mhm”, Gavriel mused stepping closer. “Tell him to stop sleeping outside my door”, you whined. “I am bonded to you, I can’t help it”, Fenrys growled, pulling at his hair. “I don’t want to be linked with you, I don’t want to be linked with anyone”, your eyes met Gavriel, who had been a fatherly figure to you for years now. “Sweetheart, hand the knife over and we will talk about this, find a way to make you more comfortable”, he softly reached out, seizing your wrist.

“I just got it back”, you whispered, “Please”, you whined, grabbing onto his arm. “I can’t alter fate, sweet girl”, Gavriel spoke softly, “Finding a mate is the biggest joy. Most don’t experience it ever”. “I don’t want to belong to anyone”, you growled through gritted teeth. “You’re making it sound like I’m about to chain you to myself”, Fenrys gritted his teeth. Your face fell. Growing pale right in front of his eyes. “Fenrys”, Gavriel snapped back.

“Rowan why don’t you take Y/n on a walk, get some fresh air”, Gavriel threw a glance that spoke volumes to his friend. “I didn’t…”, Fenrys started but Gavriel simply lifted his hand to silence him. “I’ll tag along”, Lorcan leaned forward, “Remember the waterfall I told you about?”, stepping forward he pinched your cheek, “Why don’t we check it out?”.

Fenrys watched his cadre brothers, letting you out the door. “You need to have more patience with her, Fenrys”, Gavriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “She snapped at me. I’m trying to have…”, “She was a slave for a long time. Chained to her keeper. Thrown around like a rag-doll”, Gavriel cut in. Fenrys felt his hands turning into fists. Anger bubbled inside him. “I took care of them”, Gavriel clapped his shoulder, “All I’m asking is that you give her breathing space”, “I don’t mean harm to her”, Fenrys argued. “I know that boyo, she will learn that too, you just got to give her the lead here”.

[six-demon-bag]

me vs my muse

[fairlyang]

Angel of Music 🏹

w/c: 5.7K

pairing: phantom!katebishop x singer!reader

tags: kinda following poto with a few changes. she's crazy but not mean, obsessed, stalkerish, lowkey a sweetie, helping write the point in no return, confessions in form of lyrics. 18+ smut. making out. fingering, cunnilingus, praise, murder mention, happy tears, finishing the song. happy ending

a/n: my most recent obsession!! i fell in loveeee with the songs as well as the 2011 anniversary show version! then i thought damn i’d fold soooo hard if the phantom was a woman and here we are w my own rendition<3 fav fic i’ve written thus far i think:’)

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

after the sad death of your father and his last promising words that he’s left you an angel, rather that, an angel of music to protect you, you’ve heard her. you hear her when you light a candle for him in a hidden back room that’s backstage as well as when you’re in a deep slumber and dreaming.

she’s even taught you better forms to sing for your range as a soprano, encourages you to be better, and has been making sure you’re actually improving. she’s really been such an angel.

she has such a raw, sometimes sweet voice but powerful when need be. like how you knew she would be because of the short reconciliation with raoul.

“raoul!” you shouted after the man who just went to fetch his hat to take you out for supper, “things have changed, raoul..”

quickly did the sounds of your protector’s voice fill the dressing room, “insolent boy!! this slave of fashion, basking in your glory. ignorant fool! this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!”

“angel! i hear you! speak, i listen. stay by my side, guide me! angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. enter at last, master!” you sang apologetically then sounded desperate to see her.

“flattering child, you shall know me. see why in shadow i hide. look at your face in the mirror, i am there inside!” she sang in a softer tone and you quickly turned around to look at the mirror.

there she was.

you slowly walked over to her, with wide eyes in complete shock. you knew she wasn’t a fragment in your imagination but to see her in the flesh like this was something you’ve only been dreaming of for as long as she’s been teaching you.

she wore a white mask that covered the right half of her face and had her dark brown hair slicked back. she wore a black tailcoat and waistcoat, with a white shirt underneath and a dark purple cravat on top. she also had black trousers and an opera cloak.

she looked proper and dashing like the composers and musicians that you’ve seen in all your years. she looked mesmerizing.

and sounded mesmerizing as well. so much so that you were walking towards her, eyes back on hers as she sang to you, “I am your angel of music. come to me, angel of music.”

you continued towards her through the mirror, like a moth to a flame, “I am your angel of music. come to me, angel of music.”

she stuck her hand out for you and you grab it, while still retaining eye contact. her deep blue eyes were gorgeous and you couldn’t dare look away. utterly captivated.

she looked away occasionally as she led you down the candle-lit hallway, turning back to you every few seconds to ensure you were there. she saw the way raoul was looking at you and she couldn’t fathom the thought of someone else catching your eye.

after all she was your teacher and you her muse. it was about time you came face to face, for all she wanted was to have you as hers, to share your love and devotion of music.

“in sleep she sang to me, in dreams she came. that voice which calls to me and speaks my name.” you sing softly.

“and do i dream again? for now i find the phantom of the opera is there - inside my mind—” you carefully went down the stairs, looking at her face again.

her hand held yours gently as you looked down the pathway to find a horse. you both went down slowly to make sure you won’t fall or anything.

her strong voice suddenly graces your ears, “sing once again with me, our strange duet. my power over you grows stronger yet.”

she helped you on top of the horse and you turned your head, “and though you turn from me, to glance behind— the phantom of the opera is there - inside your mind.”

she stopped the horse and offered her hand once more to help you down, which you accept. you hopped down and her hand was on your waist leading you to the gondola. “those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear.”

“it's me they hear.” she sings then you both start harmonizing with alternate adjectives, “your spirit and my voice, in one combined. the phantom of the opera is there — inside my mind.”

you watched as she used a long stick to row you down the little river, her eyes boring into yours because she also couldn’t believe you were here. she’s been waiting for you.

meanwhile you were entranced by her beauty and her stunning voice. she looked to be maybe only a couple years older than you which was quite surprising because of her impeccable talents.

“in all your fantasies, you always knew — that woman and mystery..” she sang and you finished it in truth, “… were both in you…”

you harmonized with her again, “and in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the phantom of the opera is here - inside my mind…”

she looked at you with a wide grin, beyond excited, “my angel of music!” she exclaims as you slowly went under a gate and to her lair.

“she’s there, the phantom of the opera…” you sing softly as she pulls you both in.

“sing my angel.” she commands and you do a high falsetto for a few seconds while she nodded, in approval.

she looks at you and with her hand motions higher, “sing!!”

as if she was controlling you, you did it but raised it to a BB5 note. you were now entering her lair and watching as tall and big candelabras appear from beneath the water.

you do the same exact note once again without her asking for it while her hands went higher with determination, “sing!”

you went even higher, slowly reaching levels you haven’t done before. your eyes stayed wide in surprise as she watched you in awe, bewitched by your perseverance.

you repeated the same note again and she extended her hand out, “sing!”

your pitch was even higher, surprising only yourself because she knew what you were capable of. she just had to push you a bit.

“sing, my angel!” she yells and you’ve reached a C6 note.

“sing for me!!!” she lets out one final scream and you sing with all your might, reaching the highest note one can hit.

you let it drag on for as long as you could and when you stopped you held onto your throat, relishing in your new and amazing accomplishment while she got out of the gondola.

she had a huge grin on her face, ecstatic that her teachings worked well and that you were even more perfect, way beyond her own comprehension.

she stuck her hand out for you again and you snapped out of your thoughts to grab it as she helped you up and out of the gondola. you stepped out of it and stood in front of her, tall and with an aura that felt so intimidating yet familiar.

you looked at her expectantly, assuming she’ll give you praise like she has been doing for as long as you can remember. it was a plus to improving your techniques and was just proof that hard work paid off because you lived for it.

her second hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek which had you melt against her touch, “your talent is beyond the word of perfection, my angel.”

you smiled and she gave you one right back as she let go of your face, leading you inside. you walked past an organ with sheet music over a small desk and loads of candles surrounding it. there were also a handful of mirrors but they were all covered up by fabrics of velvet.

you took a quick look around and your first thoughts were how has she survived down here for so long? did it ever get lonely? is that why there were so many stacks of sheet music? is that why she was so strict with every show the opera house held?

suddenly she sings in her strong vibrato, “i have brought you to the seat of sweet music’s throne. to this kingdom where all must pay home to music, music.”

she then walked a little more and opened a curtain which revealed a mannequin that looked identical to you and not just that but in a wedding dress. you felt dizzy when she sings softly, “you have come here for one purpose and one alone. since the moment i first heard you sing i have needed you with me to serve me, to sing for my music, my music.” 

that last note was the last thing you heard before blacking out and falling straight into her arms.

you woke up to the quiet sounds of a music box. you looked around, remembering where you were and realized you were on a bed. the black lace drapes covered every side of the bed and you saw a little lever to your right so you pulled on it and they slowly came up. 

by the foot of the bed and on a small ottoman was the music box playing a gentle melody of a song with a monkey playing two drum cymbals right on top of it. you watched it in awe and slowly got up, now following the sounds of light humming. 

you tiptoed until you got close enough to see the phantom's work space and found her writing with a feather and ink. she looked hard at work and concentrated while humming an unknown tune. she looked up to you and motioned for you to come closer with a finger and you did.

you stood above her as she showed you what she had been writing, you tilt your head and read its title plus her name below it then to the stack of lyrics to her left, "the point of no return?" you ask and she nods. 

"is it another duet?" you ask and she nods yet again, "still working on the second half.."

you nod and eye the lyrics, she notices and reaches over to them before grabbing them and handing them to you. you grab them and look at her to make sure it was really okay, she gives you a smile and you look back at the papers to start reading. 

she wrote in cursive, neat and delicate, starting off with strong lyrics within the first five lines then the next verse that instantly had you feeling flustered.

our passions may fuse and merge… 

in your mind you've already succumbed to me.

now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided, decided

your cheeks were hot and you were speechless as you quickly skimmed through the rest of it, eyes landing on two lines that had your mouth running dry. 

what rich desire unlocks its door?

what sweet seduction lies before us?

you gulped and squeezed your thighs together as you finished the rest and that was all for the first page. you were speechless. your mind was blank for a short while until it was suddenly filled with words of your thoughts from the back of your head and you had to let them out.

you sing them quietly, attempting to do it in the way she imagined, "you have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence."

you kept quiet for dramatic effect but also to choose your next words carefully. she looked up at you with admiration and respect, feeling so content with her decision to snatch you away before raoul even got a proper chance. it was for the best, for you and for her.

you reached down, putting her papers down in front of her, then bringing your right hand up to cup the left side of her face. she flinched for a second, but your soft gaze calmed her down, something that shouldn't have surprised her. 

you had the power in your hands to make her better. to make her a better woman. a better singer, writer.

all she ever really needed to feel human was something like this. all she she really needed was you. and all she has ever longed for was love.

maybe now she could not only change but become a better version of herself for you.

she turned her body to fully face you, her face warm and heart all fuzzy just looking at you. she can only imagine the difference your presence in her life will do already.

you took a deep breath, looking right into her eyes as you confessed, and sang gently, "i have come here hardly knowing the reason why. in my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent." 

you brought your left hand to her right side, touching the mask and leaning down, "now I am here with you, no second thoughts."

you lean in, left hand going down to the very end of the mask as you feel her hand on yours, slowly bringing it up with you as you whisper, "I've decided, decided." 

she lets you pull it off then tries to look away from you, afraid her worst fears will come true after your heartfelt and risqué confession that had her heart beat awfully quick but you didn't let her. you lightly cupped her jaw as you took in her features. 

her cheek was wrinkled, the right side of her lips were swollen, she didn't have a right eyebrow, her right eye was actually a gray color, and a gash along her temple.

her face was deformed, and so different to the other half, it had you feeling empathetic that she felt the need to live down here and still wear a mask. she shouldn't have to live this way.

she was even more beautiful. 

she attempted to look away from you in shame, now thinking that maybe you did deserve someone like raoul so you wouldn’t be embarrassed. someone who matched your beauty and wouldn’t scare people away. 

you on the other hand thought the opposite. 

you had already forgotten all about raoul as soon as you saw her behind that mirror but now there was no doubt in your mind that it was her that you’ll choose no matter what. 

she has been not only such an excellent teacher but it really felt like she’s taken good care of you behind the scenes.  

reading those lyrics felt like you were able to get a glimpse inside her mind and her true feelings as well as her deepest desires. 

so you did what felt right and leaned in until you could feel her breath against your lips. you put the mask on her little desk and swiftly sat on her lap with your legs dangling to the side, wrapping your arms behind her neck while she held you in place. 

she leaned in and you could see her lips lightly trembling, and your own growing nerves didn’t help you but without another moment to waste, you kissed her. it was soft, sweet just to see if she wouldn’t mind it. 

you took it as a sign that she didn’t when her hands gripped your waist and she kissed back eagerly. you tried not to smile through the kiss but it felt impossible and you could feel her smiling too so that was a good sign. 

she brought a hand up to your face, feeling the warmth of your skin while she kissed you deeper. you already tasted so sweet. felt so much better than she imagined. 

she should’ve done this sooner. 

suddenly you pulled away and she was taken by surprise. you looked down at her lips and they were a light red and already puffy. you looked up and into her eyes, they were glowing and both appeared to have darkened. 

you both smiled at each other and this time she kissed you first, brushing her lips against yours gently while her hands stayed on your waist. you brought your left hand up to her jaw as you opened your mouth and she slipped her tongue inside. 

your tongues were clashing and your heart was already racing in excitement. what was just a second ago a sweet and tender kiss, quickly changed into a desperate and sloppy one with your hands all over each other. 

your hand went down playing with her cravat between your fingers as one of her hands went under your legs and the other to your lower back. she then stood up, carrying you bridal style en route to her bed. 

she walked slowly and carefully since being down there for years, she had the whole place memorized like the back of her hand. so she moved swiftly and was able to get you there safely without hurting a hair on your head. 

she pulled away from you only to lay you down on the bed gently just to admire you for a split second as you scoot to the middle of it before she climbed on to the bed then on to you. she grabbed your chin just with her index finger and thumb, making you look right into her eyes while she leant in, "you're so beautiful, and given the gift of having the voice of an ethereal angel."

your face grew hot and you wanted to look away because you were flustered but she didn't allow you to. her cheeks were red because she was just so happy, this was one her dreams that she wasn't so sure would come true but was beyond ecstatic that it did. 

you were all she needed to truly feel human after all the awful years she had. her angel of music.

no one else's and she'd make sure of it.

she kissed you for the third time but this time she was even more desperate. she needed to have you. her hands were exploring every inch of your body, squeezing and gripping every curve while your hands trail up and down her back. your tongues clashed together and you were slowly losing your breath as you felt her hands suddenly undoing the straps of your robe.

you pulled away so she can look at what she was doing and your hands went down to her front to undo the buttons from her tailcoat as fast as you could. she only chuckled under her breath and opened the robe to reveal your red, green and gold bodice which looked absolutely stunning on you. unfortunately she was too eager to help you take it off so she lowered herself down your body while retaining eye contact.

she got to the hem of your skirt and right as she opened her mouth, you just nodded feverishly, "please."

she bit her lip to hide the moan that was about to slip from her mouth and pulled your skirt down slowly, admiring every inch of bare skin her eyes laid on, "so beautiful." she whispered and pulled the skirt over your legs.

she threw it behind her and you spread your legs apart – her body was between your legs, slowly going down and when reaching your thighs she made sure to leave trails of kisses on each side. then she was face to face with your already soaked panties, she bit her lip again and looked up at you. 

your lips were in a pout already needing her to do something but you didn't want to seem too needy. but given you were entirely exposed and she knows you're already wet maybe she already knew.

she wraps her arms around your thighs then leans in, leaving a kiss on your clothed clit before kissing down until she got to your entrance. she then licked a strip all the way back up to your clit, sending shivers all throughout your body as she repeated the process again. you let out a sigh and bring a hand down to her hair, urging her to do more. 

she grins, quickly moving your panties to the side and diving right in to have a taste. she licked your slit, savoring that sweet taste as if you'd vanish out of thin air. you tasted heavenly, exactly how she knew you would. 

her tongue went up, circling your nub while she took off her gloves and teasingly threw them at you. you caught them with a laugh, tugging on her hair making her groan against you. you moaned and her head went back down, lapping at your folds like she hasn't eaten for weeks. "oh god-" you moaned and bucked your hips up. 

she moaned against you, doing it faster just to hear your angelic moans for as long as she could. she felt like she was dreaming. if it weren't for the fact that you were moaning for her, she would've assumed this really was just one of her wet dreams.

she started going up and down, making sure to slurp up all your juices because she needed every drop of you in her mouth. just to make sure this was really happening. 

your eyes fluttered shut and you tried to keep them open but the pleasure she was giving you was just so breathtaking. "feels so good kate-" you murmured, locking eyes with her as she nods.

suddenly you felt her teasing your entrance with a finger and your body trembled. her eyes close shut, focusing on making you feel good and on her sense of hearing to hear what you like. luckily for her she was able to feel your thighs shake, and your arousal was dripping even more. 

thank the heavens she didn’t let raoul have a singular opportunity. 

he’d be lost.

she slipped the finger all the way inside and your walls easily entrapped it. she moaned and pulled it back only to add a second finger. you clenched around both as she slammed it into you making you whimper.

she pulled it all the way out then went back in with both and started pumping them fast. you gasped as you heard the noises coming from between your legs, it sounded crazy.

your arousal was coating her fingers and she just watched the way your body reacted to her touch. it was everything she could have ever wanted and more.

“mm just like that-“ you moaned, trying to keep your eyes on her but it felt impossible.

you just wanted to close your eyes and feel the heaven she was giving you.

her fingers went faster, looking at your pretty face while she came up and started sucking on your clit to make you come in her mouth as fast as possible. you gasped and your eyes shot open, looking right at her as she worked expertly on your pussy.

it seemed she was good at everything she did. and looked just as good doing it.

she curled her fingers up when she pulled back making sure to hit your sweet spot with every thrust. with her other hand she pulled your left leg up, to have more space and so it can bring you more pleasure. more moans slipped from your lips making her moan into you and speed up.

your hands gripped her hair keeping her as close as possible to you because it just felt too good. her entire mouth was on your clit, flicking and sucking on it while her fingers went deeper.

you felt a strong sensation in your stomach, as if you were about to pee and it had you nervous, “kate- i d-don’t-“

your brain was mush and you couldn’t spill out a coherent sentence but she could feel you contort and clench against her fingers, you were close.

with her left hand she grabbed your right hand and made you hold your own leg up while hers went to your stomach, pressing on it over the bodice. you whined and that feeling in your stomach was only growing tighter, “oh my- f-fuck! please-“

she pulls away from your clit and looks deeply into your eyes as she murmurs, “wanna come for me, my angel?”

you quickly nod and she grins, her whole mouth and cheeks glistening with your arousal as she goes back down to suck on your swollen nub. you gasped then whimpered as your orgasm built up and with her loving stare alone, you quickly came undone. your body shook while her fingers slowed down, letting you completely ride out your high.

you whimpered out her name and let go of your leg and her hair. you could hear your heart beat loudly in your ears as the pleasure slowly washed away and was now reaching towards overstimulation. your hand went up to your face, trying to calm yourself down.

she pulls away from you and leaves a kiss on your inner thigh and just lets her fingers stay inside you while admiring your pretty face basking in afterglow.

she’d do anything to always have you like this. spending as much time as you’d let her to take care of you properly each and every time.

it’s what you deserved after the phenomenal progress of your voice and especially after tonight’s show. sure she’d have to take care of raoul to ensure he doesn’t get in the way and so you can still go up to become the permanent lead.

she’d do whatever it takes.

“kate i wanna taste you.” you whined, lightly tapping her head with a finger, and she snapped out of it.

“oh do you?” she teases and you nod.

she slowly pulls her fingers out of you and then gets up from between your legs. she sits up and you quickly move over, making space for her while she took your previous position. you went down her body, undoing her pants as fast as you could.

you pulled them down and revealed that she was wearing a pair of boxers. you slid those down as well, spreading her legs wide, and then instantly ate her out with no care in the world of anything except for her.

she moaned and her eyes rolled to the back of her head, “oh my god yes-“

you were surprised she was just as, if not more wet than you. but what surprised you more was how amazing she tasted. you wrapped your arms around her thighs, truly savoring her because she was just so sweet.

kate grinned at your desperation, happy that you’re feeling like she is now. she brought a hand down to your head, guiding you to come up and suck on her clit. you did as she wanted and looked at her while doing so which gave her instant goosebumps, “just like that, my sweet angel- y-you’re doing so good for me.” she breathed out making you moan onto her.

her body shook and you took it as a good sign. you sucked on her clit while lightly flicking it with the tip of your tongue. she gasped in shock and you just kept it going, doing it a little faster just so you could hear her again.

she moaned your name out like a prayer along with praise that had your heart skipping a beat. you brought your right hand down, pulling away from her so you can admire her. she had a slight bush on her mound and everything else was bare. her actual pussy was pretty, already glistening with a mix of your saliva and her juices.

you spread her lips apart with two fingers then can’t help but to lick a strip up then back down, tongue teasing her entrance and just feeling her shake above you. you pulled away, lips all glossy and you took a quick look at her, bringing a finger down to enter her hole before quickly looking at her.

she gasped and clenched against the digit, you pulled it out and then teased her hole with two fingers making her groan, “oh my- please, lord please.”

you slid them in, feeling yourself grow impatient and not wanting to tease her too much. she relaxed her body but her walls still clenched against your fingers, “relax angel, i’ll take care of you.” you murmur earning yourself loud moans from her.

you smile and pump them deeper as she squirmed around while you give her sweet praises, just to flip the script a bit.

you had officially made her completely lose her mind.

she had the two people she had to take care of in mind before she’d send you back up to the opera house. she had to make sure there were no loose ends when you became the official lead and maybe then she’d come up to take control without harming any more people.

but for now she’d cherish every passing second with you because it’s all she dreamed of.

your fingers were going at a fast pace, her juices dripping down your hand, and kate’s moans were gracing your ears. “just like that angel, please don’t stop-“

you nodded, doing the same thing but now going a bit harder. her hands gripped the sheets, her lower body grinding against you because it was just too good and she was starting to get greedy.

you kissed her thigh watching as her face contorted in pleasure with every thrust. her eyes were fluttering and she kept biting her lip attempting to be quiet but was obviously failing. “my beautiful angel- god you’re amazing.”

your face grew warm and you felt butterflies in your stomach, it was like becoming one of those lovesick girls from the films except you didn’t hate it. it was an amazing feeling to already feel wanted like this, in this capacity.

especially by someone whose been the most helpful for your career and always seemed to care for you more than just a tutor. like you cared for her as well.

it was more than that and it made you overjoyed and delighted to have been taught by her. you knew in your heart that it’d become more which only had you feeling excited for your future with her.

her moans brought you back to reality where she was a mess. she was making a mess of your fingers and her eyes were barely able to remain open. you went down and sucked on her clit again, pumping your fingers inside her at a faster pace that only had her dripping even more than before.

“y-yes- oh my- angel please.” she moaned and you squeezed your thighs together for some friction.

“a-always so caring and t-thoughtful, aren’t you sweetheart?” she murmurs earning herself a whimper right against her pussy.

her legs shook and she was back to clenching against your fingers, maybe she was close. your fingers never stopped, only increased the pace since that’s likely what she needed. you pulled away once again just to respond, “mhm, you already know me well enough huh?”

she laughs then whimpers when your fingers start curling and she instantly feels her orgasm coming in hot pursuit. “fuck! yes, i do- know you s-so well.” she mutters making you grin.

seems you were able to break her like she did with you. another accomplishment of the night.

you brought your left hand up to her and she quickly entwined your fingers together, “give it to me. please give it to me, angel.” you murmured and she let out a loud mewl as her orgasm crashed down on her.

you continued your pace while she reached her climax, letting out more moans and whimpers as her body started shaking. her hand was gripping your hand tightly and you just held onto it as you finally slowed down. she was breathing heavily, heart pounding while she looked down at you through fucked out eyes, looking at you as if you really were a real angel.

you were just as beautiful as one. with an angelic voice to match.

you slowly pulled your fingers out of her, not wanting it to hurt her as she sighed and opened her arms. with a wide grin you climbed on top of her, before laying down and making yourself comfortable in her arms.

she wrapped her arms around you as you heard her heart face against her chest. it felt like yours was reacting the exact same way as well.

you laid like that in comfortable silence as she got herself to calm down, enjoying being able to have you like this after all she’s taught you. it was the greatest feeling.

suddenly her mind came up with heartfelt lyrics to finish your song. she cleared her throat then sang quietly just enough for you to hear, “say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. lead me, save me from my solitude.”

her eyes welled with tears as you looked up at her, your own eyes tearing up as she finished, “say you want me with you here, beside you. anywhere you go, let me go too… that’s all i ask of you—“

her voice cracked with the very end of the last note and a single tear fell off both your faces. you quickly brought a hand up to wipe the tear from the right side of her face, gently rubbing your thumb against her skin.

she did the same to you, looking at you with eyes filled of pure love as you finish off the song, “beyond the point of no return.”

she cried softly, unable to not smile at the same time. you just made her the happiest woman in the world. you made her feel human again. you were all she needed to feel human and happy with life again.

she’ll never take you for granted and will make sure to take care of you in every way for as long as you allow her to.

[arcielee]

Can you please write more for Ser Erryk? 🥺

Oooh, if the muses come to me 💜 Honestly, At last, when all of the world is asleep was a request sent. Now, I cannot promise to finish any request sent in at a reasonable time...but I keep them, I dwell on them...I am waiting for the the muses to return so I can create something you [hopefully] enjoy.

[truefandemonium]

Heyy there! I was so happy the moment I saw you accept requests for King 🥹

Can I ask for a fic where King is jealous bc of Candie? Django notices this and tries to calm down King, which was useless. Later on, reader (fem or gn pls) notices King is a bit distant and ignoring her, so she confronts him and he accidentally admits his feelings (King and Reader had just a few intimate moments before, but nothing serious bc King have said it was dangerous). Fluff and Angst maybe? 🥺

I hope you like my request, tysm! 🤗✨

Thank you SO MUCH for requesting this!! I absolutely love the idea and writing Jealous King was fun! (As my first fic in the fandom, I hope he’s not OOC!)

I took some creative liberties with the canon plot to fit this prompt, but I hope you enjoy! 😍

Dr. King Schultz xFem!Reader

Mature. Tags: angst, fluff, jealousy, possessive!King, mentions of slavery, innuendo, implied sexual content, strong language

3,884 words

…

King had hardly been able to stop ordering you and Django around since getting onto the road that would eventually take you straight to CandieLand. “And make sure you do not make him angry,” he tells you. “I have heard from good sources that Mister Candie is not exactly what you’d call reasonable.”

“So, be a pushover, then?” you ask curiously, but genuine. You’re willing to do whatever you need to in order to save Django’s wife, and if that means pretending to laugh at a madman’s jokes and not smile at his slaves, so be it.

“Not in your wheelhouse, my dear, I know,” King says regretfully, glancing sideways at you on Django’s horse while he controls Fritz’s reins from the wagon. You used to argue with him about sitting on the stagecoach with him, but King had insisted that if a fight broke out, he would want you to be on Django’s horse to make a quick getaway if need be.

So here you sit, arms wrapped around Django’s waist as you stare longingly at the man across from you on the wagon. You shut your eyes for a moment and lean forward, laying your head against Django’s back and pretending it’s King’s warmth that you’re feeling now.

“Getting cozy, huh?” the man in front of you grunts, and you quickly pull back, sitting upright just as King glances sideways again and notices your rosy cheeks.

King smiles softly in your direction. “Frauline, if you are needing rest, I can request a room for you upon arrival…”

“No, no,” you shake your head, “I just— I would rather stay with you both.”

King nods, understandingly, while Django mutters, “Suit your damn self.”

The rest of the ride is relatively silent, besides the short huffs and whinnies from Fritz before the three of you arrive at the grand entrance of CandieLand.

You watch with a deep rooted pain in your chest as you roll past fields, seeing the slaves that fill the place. Righteous anger fills you— the need for justice overwhelming. But you remember that you’re on a mission, here. You’re saving Broomhilda.

The wagon rolls to a stop at a lofty porch, with stairs leading down to the dirt path you’re on now, and King waves, beckoning over a slave to discuss the reason for his arrival.

Soon, the head honcho of this place— Monsieur Candie —is chatting with King and discussing business.

You shiver as King eventually introduces you, and Candie’s eyes rake over your form atop the horse, half hidden behind Django’s body.

“Well, nice of you to bring such a fine young lady along with yourself, Dr. Schultz,” Candie muses, his brows raised as he runs his tongue along his teeth.

You feel sick with his eyes on you— feeling like a sheep laid bare for the wolf to devour. But you remember what King said and instead just smile politely, dipping your head as a shameful blush floods your face.

King chuckles nervously and looks back at you. “Yes, she is quite a help in the cooking department. I, myself, am not much of a chef.” You can see the way his green eyes fill with roiling emotions, the way he’s hardly managing to stay cheery. “We keep her around as a sort of maid,” he adds, and you have to stifle an eye roll at the absurdity. He’s not entirely wrong, but you know you contribute much more to the team than washing laundry and dishes in rivers as you pass them.

Candie nods, sucking his teeth. “Yeah? She good for anything else?”

You feel your face fill with heat once more as King makes a sharp noise in the back of his throat. You feel Django tense in front of you, one arm still looped carefully around his middle, and suddenly you realize that King is struggling for words. Struggling to stay calm.

Django saves him with a quick quip, “Shovelin’ horseshit.”

King whips his head to stare at his counterpart as Candie lets out a loud laugh. “Oh, I see! She’s not one to lie on her back, then? No matter, I’m sure we can accommodate you fine gentlemen if’n you feel the need for a little roughhousin’ later on tonight.” He punctuates his words with a sickening grin, and King forces his gaze back toward the man, plastering a smile onto his bearded face.

“Excellent,” King agrees.

“In fact, Dr— you said you speak German?” Candie continues. “We got a little comfort gal that could take care of you this evening. She even speaks a little German, the devil. Tilly!” He beckons over a female slave and leans down to mutter, “Where is Hildy?”

The girl wrinkles her nose and points to a metal box lying out in the far field, baking in the sunlight. “She got put in the hotbox, monseuir. She bein’ bad again, and runned off.”

Candie curses and glances up in embarrassment, ordering the girl, “Well, get her the hell out and get her cleaned up for my guests.”

You feel Django shift, his hand coming to rest on the gun at his hip as you squeeze his shoulder worriedly.

But before he can shoot, Candie is beckoning you all inside, and sending people to take the horses back to the stables. King hurries over to the side of Django’s horse and reaches up to help you down, his hands firmly planted on your waist as he lowers you to the ground. You feel him hesitate there for a moment, his fingers hovering over your body, your hands on his shoulders— faces mere inches apart.

Then he pulls back and theatrically beckons you to follow, rushing after Candie and diving into the false pleasantries between them. Django gazes out at the field as you watch a naked woman get picked up from inside the metal prison and placed in a wheelbarrow to be hauled inside. Her cries of pain echo toward your ears and you nudge Django’s elbow gently to break him out of his horrified staring.

The two of you follow King and Candie inside, ignoring the odd looks from strangers as you walk through the grand arched entrance and into a large living room.

Candie reclines in a large chair, offering King a cigar as they sit and open a jar of whiskey. Django stands in the corner, arms crossed as he watches Candie with an untrusting gaze.

You, too, remain standing, unsure of exactly where to sit— until Candie spots you and shoots you a wide grin, lighting up his cigar with a match. “No place to rest your feet, darlin’?” he asks you. You start to stammer a reply before he waves you to silence and flicks his fingers for you to approach.

“Come on,” he insists, reaching out and snatching the cloth of your dress in his fist to tug you onto the arm of his chair. You make a small sound at the sudden movement, arms wrapping around his shoulders for balance as he chuckles. “Well, Dr. Schultz, if you ever did get bored enough to bend your maid over, she sure does make pretty little noises.” He slides his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side as you balance on the arm of his chair.

“Mm.” King’s eyes flash with a dull fury, his fingers tightening until he’s white-knuckling his smoking cigar. “Indeed,” he mutters with barely restrained disdain.

You remind yourself to stay polite despite the way that you want to smack Candie across the face and knock that smug smile off his chapped lips, recalling this is for Django. You’re going to save Broomhilda, and you won’t let this man’s disgusting display scare you off.

So you smile down at him, letting your hand plant on his collar, fiddling gently with the cloth between your fingers as he speaks with King and Django.

You pretend to not care that his grip on you makes your stomach turn uncomfortably, or that he smells of smoke and whiskey in all the worst ways. Instead, you distract yourself with stealing glances at King— a sigh working its way out of your chest at the sight of him. He’s so perfect— so wonderful. The way his green eyes sparkle in the firelight, his greying beard so perfectly framing his soft, crooked lips. The curl of his salt and pepper hair that falls around his ears to meet his sharp jaw.

“Poor bitch must be exhausted, she can’t even hear me,” Candie chuckles suddenly, and you whirl to look down at him.

“Oh— huh? I’m sorry, sir—” you start to say, panic filling your chest.

“I asked if you’re hungry, sugar,” he says, his tone slimy and low. You repress a shudder and force a smile onto your face.

“Oh, I could eat,” you tell him.

Candie chuckles wickedly, smirking in King’s direction. “Y’hear that, Dr? She’s a girl with an appetite.”

You burn at the implications of his words, giggling in lieu of calling him a bastard right to his smirking face.

You glance back to see King staring with a furrowed brow at you, eyes flicking between your falsely glad face and Candie’s, something dangerous flickering deep in his green gaze.

“Why don’t you three go get cleaned up for dinner, huh?” Candie then ushers you up off the chair arm, smacking your backside flirtatiously as he does so. You playfully wave him away, feeling close to throwing up. You wish King would do something– anything– to show Candie that you were his. But of course, nothing between you was official anyway, even if it wasn’t terribly dangerous to defy Candie in his own home. But you and King had kissed, once. After a particularly long day, Django and King had killed four men and had their corpses lying in the dark shadows beyond your makeshift camp in the desert, a roaring fire before you as the three of you downed bottle after bottle of watery beer in celebration.

Maybe being drunk had something to do with it, maybe because the tension between you both had grown too strong, but whatever it was compelled you to kiss him that night. You simply pulled him in by his collar and pressed your virgin lips to his, relishing in the woody way he smelled, and the rich taste of him. And it was wonderful.

You wished that the kiss would change things, perhaps solidify what you thought you had going between you, but alas, nothing more ever came of it. The two of you were still close– even romantically so, at times. But King never let you get too close. Why, you couldn’t say. You wish you could ask him, but your fear of losing his friendship remained stronger than your curiosity.

Candie instructs a servant to lead you up the stairs and to the empty rooms down the hall, and you follow in silence, looking expectantly toward King, hoping for a reassuring look of kindness or concern. But to your dismay, he seems to be avoiding your gaze, all the way until he reaches his offered room, and goes inside without so much as a glance in your direction.

You look to Django, who’s still in the hall with you, confusedly, hoping he has an answer to why on earth King is suddenly distant.

He simply shrugs, heading into his own room and leaving you alone to ponder the sudden sadness creeping into your chest.

When you finish washing up, a servant girl brings you a dress to wear, a gift from Candie, and you put it on, returning to the hall as soon as possible in order to visit King’s room. You rap on his door and wait for the muffled, “Komm herein– come in.”

He turns, fixing his collar distractedly until he sees you, and his throat bobs hard, eyes growing wide. He slams a wall down over his features so that his expression becomes unreadable, and hurriedly finishes with his collar before retrieving his coat and pulling it on. “Ah, frauline. Everything is fine, I hope?” he asks brusquely.

You look at him longingly, confused and hurt by his sudden coolness toward you. “King, is everything alright? Did I– Did I do something to upset you–?”

“I am quite well, Ms. L/N, thank you,” he says, turning toward the mirror above the empty dresser and fixing his grey locks, brows drawn over his darkened eyes.

You wince, feeling as though you’ve been struck. “‘Ms. L/N’? King– what is the matter with you? Please, if you’re mad at me, just say so–”

“Dinner is ready,” a servant tells you from just outside in the hall, startling both you and King into whipping your heads toward the open door. King smiles fakely, ducking his head.

“Ah, thank you very much,” he says, adjusting his coat once more before waltzing past you and out the door to return downstairs. You watch with swelling pain as he walks away without another word.

Dinner doesn’t go much better, King visibly pouting throughout the meal. You play along with Candie, reciprocating his lewd gestures, lingering touches, and laughing at all his dirty jokes. Your attempt at buttering him up seems to work, however, as he is incredibly calm at the prospect of King buying Broomhilda for a small sum.

“Well, I will be sure to send her up to your room tonight, then, doctor,” Candie winks in your friend’s direction, his hand flat on your thigh under the table as you try to remain calm and chew your food without choking.

King smiles again, and you begin to miss his real smile, the way his white teeth flash behind his mustache. “Thank you immensely, Monsieur Candie.”

“I do believe I could use some rest,” you say suddenly, pushing up from the table and glancing at King to see if he reacts. You feel the sting of rejection as he turns his eyes downward to his plate.

“I could walk you,” Candie offers, standing alongside you with a wolfish grin.

King stands, too, now, his eyes fiery. He opens his mouth to speak, and Django quickly straightens, grabbing King’s sleeve. “Mister Candie, my partner wanted to discuss the Mandingo fighter— Big Fred —we’ll be right back.”

With that, he drags King out the side door by his arm, and you mutter an excuse to Candie before following. He watches with narrowed gaze as you round the corner and hear the two men whispering in the hall.

“You need to calm the hell down,” Django whispers in a low tone.

King hisses, his accent more pronounced as he grows angrier. “Do you see that? I am this close to putting a bullet in his brain—”

“Y/N is not bothered, King,” Django says so softly you have to strain to hear.

A small sigh, and then, “That is what worries me.”

You jump on shock as Candie appears behind you, loudly asking, “Everything alright back here?”

King returns from the hall, grinning again. He claps his hands. “Peachy, Monsieur Candie. But as a matter of fact, we have all had a pretty long day and some rest would be most welcome.”

“Course! Make yourselves at home,” Candie assures you. He adds with a wink in King’s direction, “And I’ll send Hildy up to your room a little later.”

Django’s eyes flash hopefully. “Wonderful,” King says.

“Behave yourself until then,” Candie reminds him, fiddling with the cloth of your dress for a moment as he murmurs, “And you too. Ask Tilly where to find me if’n you get lonely, hear?”

You nod politely, counting the seconds until you can escape his gaze. “Yessir.”

He smiles. “Good girl.” The man ushers you all toward the end of the hall, leading to the staircase, and bids you goodnight. “Git, now. We can discuss further business in the morning.”

You curtsy before following the men upstairs and to your vacant rooms, heart pounding fearfully. Candie makes your chest squeeze uncomfortably— like the feeling you get when you know you’re about to get hurt, you just don’t know how.

You hesitate to follow King to his room, seeing him slam his door and taking that as a sign not to bother him. But the pain at wanting to be close to him refuses to leave. Do you quickly undress, pulling on a lacy nightgown and slipping back into the hall after the rest of the house has quieted.

You knock gently on his door, waiting for his reply, but instead of his usual German quip, he calls, “Just a moment!”

You hear the soft steps as he comes to greet you, the creak of the door as it opens and suddenly you’re face to face. His eyes light up, at first, before he furrows his brow and seems to grow distant again. “Frauline,” he whispers. “Is everything alright?”

“No,” you tell him, pain at his harsh attitude making your heart ache. “Please— I need to talk with you.”

“Can this wait until we leave tomorrow? Broomhilda will be up any minute—”

“No!” you hiss, startling him. His green eyes grow wide as you push against the door and close the space between you. King inhales sharply, stepping back to allow you to breach further into his room, and you shut the door quickly behind you. “King,” you start, the need to be with him beginning to be overwhelming, “I don’t understand why you’re treating me like this, but you need to tell me what’s wrong. What can I do?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he lies, avoiding your gaze as he walks to the bed and runs his hands through his hair in a panic. You watch the flex of his muscles beneath his starch white shirt, suspenders pulling taught over his shoulders.

“King, if this is about Candie—”

“I do not care how you choose to conduct yourself,” he bites back, speaking over you. His tone is clipped as he talks over his shoulder, still refusing to face you head-on. “If you misread my concern for romantic interest, I apologize.”

“But… isn’t it?” you ask softly, feeling as though your heart might truly shatter in this moment.

King still won’t face you, his head turned slightly so you can see the sharp curve of his jaw, the way his eyes cast downward as he struggles for words. “I have lost people, dear Y/N. I have loved, and lost, and I have never learned from my mistakes until now.”

Finally, he turns, and you can see the tears brimming in his eyes, and your heart wrenches.

“I don’t know how I came to be so graced as to bask in your presence on the daily, frauline, but believe me when I say that if anything happened to you because of my recklessness, I would never forgive myself…” His words cut like a knife, simultaneously stoking the fire that burns deep in your gut. His voice breaks as he grinds out, “I don’t believe I would like to keep living if you were not.”

“Oh, King,” you cry, pressing a hand to your mouth to stifle your tears.

He shifts and you close the space between you with a few short leaps, falling against his front and wrapping your arms around him. King hesitates only momentarily before folding his own arms over you, resting his chin atop your head as you whimper gently into his chest.

“You know I’m only playing along so we can save Broomhilda, right?” you whisper once you’ve caught your breath. King pulls back slightly to look you in the face, his expression cloudy with confusion.

“You mean…?”

You laugh gently, sniffling. “King— he’s an absolutely deplorable man. I think less of him than anyone I’ve ever met.”

You can feel the relief enter King’s body at your words, a blush creeping into his cheeks. “Liebling, forgive me… I have never been a patient man.” He chuckles abashedly, and you reach up to cup his jaw in your palm, reveling in the way he practically purrs, leaning into your touch.

“You don’t have to be patient anymore,” you tell him. “I’ve been waiting for you— for this. I want you, Dr. King Schultz.” His name on your tongue tastes like the sweetest honey, and you find yourself smiling as you stare at him.

“My dear,” he says, his tone strained as if he’s hardly containing himself. His hand comes up to encircle your wrist but doesn’t pull your fingers from where they’re buried in his beard. “You have no idea how much I have longed to hear those words on your lips.” His eyes flash painfully. “But I could not bear to let you get hurt.”

“I won’t,” you promise him, desperation leaking into your voice. “I swear it. I’d rather spend a short time as your woman than a long life without being in your arms.”

King’s mouth falls open as he croaks, “Honest?”

You smile again, tears filling your eyes. “Honest as the day is long, King.”

He gazes fondly at you, his grey hair framing his aged face, and you find yourself aching for a kiss. You cautiously let your hand travel down to his collar and King seems to get the idea, his eyes brightening with realization as a smile crawls onto his lips.

You press further against his front and his hand comes to rest at the small of your back, holding you gently but firmly and flush against his middle as you crane your neck to look up at him.

King pushes a strand of hair from your face before gently holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger and leaning down to place his lips to yours.

You instantly let out a soft moan of affection, deeply inhaling the scent of bonfire smoke, pine trees, and old beer. Beneath that: the musk that always reminds you of King, manly and sharp and sweet, somehow. His lips work against yours as you melt into his touch, the kiss deepening until you swear you’ll never stop tasting him.

King’s hands find your waist and he grips you, his hold almost possessive as if he’s afraid of losing you. You pull back to breathe and see King’s pupils are blown wide with want, his hair mussed from your wandering hands, his lips already red from your assault.

You smile at the sight of him so undone, and you start taking steps forward, urging him backward and toward the bed. King gasps as you push him fully onto his back, climbing atop him and leaning in to plant kisses all along his neck.

He pants gently, his hands now shaky as they hover over your hips, nervousness obvious in his sudden tension. “My dear,” he tells you, his voice breathy and worked up. “Broomhilda will be up here any moment, I will need to be presentable.”

“Tomorrow then?” you murmur, loving the feeling of his soft lips beneath your own. “Promise me.”

“Tomorrow,” he yields, grunting gently into your mouth as you press him deep into the mattress with a kiss. He grins as you pull back, gasping for air. King promises, “And every day after that.”

…

[harmonyloveangels1990]

Open Master/Slave RP (Male, Female, or Futa only)

Ishizu Ishtar finally got her brother back. After so many years, he was finally himself and a good person again. Though Ishizu knew he still has some ways to go to make up for what he's done. She knew it was a start, but she couldn't have done it alone...not without financial aid and connections.

Your muse had all of that and Ishizu offered herself to them to be theirs forever. In exchange, they helped her with her quest to save her brother and make sure his sins are erased from the government records. Once everything was cared for, Ishizu came to your muse. Ready to honor her end of the deal.

"As agreed upon, I am here and ready to serve you. Whatever you desire or need from me. My body and soul are yours now and forever," she replied knowing her brother would have been against this, but it was her choice.

((have fun with her))