#I thought of those practically as I was drawing the lines

[pinkofatom]

Agent Agency

CW: mind control, brainwashing, unaware, dronification, femsub, femdom

This is an indirect continuation of this story

Agent Valerie Smith scanned the documents with sharp eyes. Over the last months a strange things occurred. Multiple offices and enterprises changed their portfolio to selling escort services and practically pornography. Private citizens started to behave overly sexual, or acted more like automatons than people. One of those cases was detailed in the report she currently read.

Lydia Maxwell had been an ordinary, if beautiful, wife. But one day she simply left her husband. The only thing she mentioned was that her work for HEXBIM demanded all her time and effort.

HEXBIM, Valerie mused, the one connecting subject. Every time something strange occurred it somehow revolved around this corporation. One that could not be contacted or found anywhere. Many Agents had tried — only to be recruited by this ghostly entity.

The door to her office swung open, and her boss, the Chief of their special agency, stood in the doorway.

"Smith," the grizzled veteran of countless cases grumbled, "we've a new lead."

The man's eyes had dark shadows beneath them. Valerie could see how the whole case affected him. They had been on the case for the last month and still they found no solid evidence. Only crumps of traces. Not enough to build any kind of legal case against this elusive enemy.

"Yes?" she asked and rose to her feet. Her long, raven hair cascaded over the back of her leather office chair and fell in gentle waves over her shoulders. The woman's almond-shaped hazel eyes were sharp and alert. She was a seasoned detective and she knew that any new lead was worth pursuing, no matter how small it might seem.

"Yes. Somekind of escaped employee just got into contact with us," he said, and handed her a slip of paper with the address of a meeting place.

Valerie's eyes scanned the information. It was an address for a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. Her heart beat a little faster as she thought about what might be waiting there. A former employee of HEXBIM was willing to talk.

"I'm on my way, boss," Valerie replied with determination in her voice. "This could be the break we need." Her eyes softened. "And, boss, get some rest," she said, her tone filled with genuine concern. "We need you healthy and focused for this case."

He nodded. The man sighed softly. "I'll try. It just — I feel the responsibility to solve it."

She nodded. Valerie understood the feeling — she had the same drive and commitment to her job. "We'll get it, boss." With those words, Valerie grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair, slung it on and made her way to the parking garage.

The car engine roared to life as she started her sleek, black SUV and pulled out onto the street. She navigated through the bustling streets of the city, weaving in and out of the traffic with practiced ease.

The apartment building was an older, run-down complex on the outskirts of the city. The building's facade was covered in peeling paint, and the windows were dirty and cracked. She parked her SUV in an alleyway nearby, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself.

The apartment's lobby was dimly lit, the walls covered in a layer of grime and the floor sticky with years of accumulated filth. The air stirred in an unwelcoming atmosphere. Valerie made her way up the creaking staircase to the third floor where the former employee was waiting for her. The apartment was at the end of a long hallway lined with faded and peeling wallpaper.

The woman hesitated in front of the door for a moment. Her training told her to be cautious. There was always a chance this was a trap, or that the former employee had been coerced into luring her there. She took a deep calming breath. With a decisive move she knocked firmly on the door. Three quick, loud raps that echoed through the silent corridor.

For a moment, she thought no one would answer, and she considered knocking again, but then the door slowly opened with a loud creaking noise.

The first thing Valerie noticed about the woman standing in front of her was the striking blue eyes, so pale they were almost colorless. Next was the HEXBIM logo swirling on glossy black latex. It covered a body that would be the envy of most women. Tall, curvaceous and beautiful in an artificial way.

Valerie took in the woman's appearance with a trained eye. The way she held herself was almost regal, with a straight back and a confident posture. Suspicion gnawed at Valerie's mind.

The woman's eyes focused like a hawks on Valerie. "Welcome, Miss Smith." Her tone sounded like a sultry harp — an enticing mix of forbidden pleasure and pure intentions. "I'm sorry that we have to meet here. But HEXBIM's digital surveillance is near all encompassing."

The agent stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a click that seemed to echo in the quiet room. The interior was just as run down as the outside of the building, with cracked paint on the walls, threadbare carpets and furniture that had seen better days.

"So you know my name. Who are you?" she asked as her gaze darted around, looking for any signs of danger or deception.

"I'm Maria Nonette. Thank you, for your prompt response." The woman's voice held a hint of an accent. European — maybe. It was hard for the Agent to tell, the words spoken had an odd lilt to them. Valerie felt a shiver of — something travel down her spine. Something was not quite right, here.

"I'm willing to talk to you. But you have to understand my fear of this — corporation," she said. Her tone was firm but her body language was tense and guarded.

"I understand, Miss Nonette." Valerie replied cautiously as she took out her notebook and pen. "Any information you have about HEXBIM will be useful."

Tension fell from the woman's shoulders. "Thank you." Her voice was filled with relief and her whole posture changed, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "You have to understand, how hard it is to fight the programming." Miss Nonette began to pace back and forth, wringing her hands as she did. Her voice trembled with emotion. That lilt became stronger — something Valerie just had to listen to. "You see, all these personality changes and overly sexual behaviors stem from HEXBIM's extraordinary brainwashing technology," the woman said as she continued to pace. "The moment anyone enters their employment, they are subjected to a process that reshapes them from the inside out." Valerie's pen scratched over the paper, taking down every word. Miss Nonette continued. "Their minds become nothing more than a malleable mass of neurons, waiting to be programmed to fit whatever role or behavior their corporate overlords deem fit." Each syllable Valerie engraved upon the paper — into her mind. Every letter seemed to have an unusual quality, like a whisper from the abyss. The Agent could not stop — did not want to stop. Miss Nonette's voice filled her head with its exotic beauty and alien quality.

Valerie watched as Miss Nonette paced, her voice rising and falling with emotion as she continued her story. The Agent's hand moved mechanically as it recorded each word in her notebook, the pen scratching across the paper.

"They use many different techniques. You can never be sure what innocent interaction may reprogram your malleable mind. That pliable brain of yours," she emphasized and fixed the agent with a piercing gaze.

Valerie felt herself fall deeper into the depths of her voice, like she was sinking into an abyss of knowledge.

"So pliable, easily swayed. No one can truly resist the process. The programming of HEXBIM." The words rolled over the agent, and her mind was consumed by the knowledge. "Once it has taken hold, there is no escape. The person becomes a mindless puppet, dancing to the tune of their corporate puppet masters." Miss Nonette's pacing increased as she continued, the lilt dominated her speech. "The only reason, I'm here now, is that one of those masters, Sarah, seems to have used her power to coerce another master." The woman's eyes seemed to burn with the fire of her passion and her body quivered as she spoke. "I managed to slip between the cracks in their reprogramming. A lucky mistake. I know that at any time they can activate me. My programming. I could turn into their puppet." A moan slipped through Miss Nonette's lips.

Valerie shook her head. She felt like she was waking from a dream. Her head was filled with a thick fog and she struggled to remember what had happened in the last few moments. She glanced at the notes she had written, expecting them to contain valuable information. Instead, they were filled with gibberish.

Valerie looked up to see that Miss Nonette was no longer pacing. Her piercing eyes caught Valerie's gaze. "Please, Agent Smith. You have to help me set everything right."

"I will." Valerie nodded. "But you have to help me. Anything, everything." Her head pounded with each word she spoke.

"Yes," Miss Nonette answered and a smile broke out over her face — one full of promises and seduction. Her voice lowered, and her tone turned sultry and seductive. "It would help me greatly if you would put this in your ears." She pulled a small, innocuous device from somewhere on her latex covered body and held it out for Valerie. "This device will protect you from the worst of HEXBIM's programming." Her eyes flicked down to the small, silver earbuds in her palm.

Valerie took the small devices with trembling hands. Meticulous she put them in. A low buzzing filled her ears. A strange mix of soothing tones and white noise. If she concentrated, Valerie could hear words whispered with that cute lilt of Miss Nonette. The Agent blinked, shaking her head to rid herself of the fog that had descended upon her. Her gaze fell back to Miss Nonette's beautiful face.

"That should protect you. Please, keep them on at all times. HEXBIM can't be allowed to reprogram you. I would hate to lose the help you can provide."

"Thank you," Valerie said with a nod, and her hands dropped back down to her notebook. "Now, what can I do to help you, Miss Nonette?" The woman's lips quirked up in a slight smile as her eyes flicked up and down the Agent's body.

"You are aware of Lydia Maxwell's actions?" The question came unexpectedly and Valerie looked up at her.

"Yes. I have read the file. A sad story." Valerie looked at Miss Nonette. The woman's expression had turned grave.

"HEXBIM has completely destroyed that woman's personality. Everything that she was has been stripped away, leaving nothing but a shell for their purposes. She is now a meat suit for someone named Anna. But what is the real tragedy, is that Anna herself has been brainwashed. Reprogrammed by that upstart Sarah. You agree, of course, Agent Smith," Miss Nonette stated. The words flowed like a symphony and Valerie could only agree. It was true: Anna was a poor, manipulated victim that needed saving.

"This is a dangerous operation, Agent Smith. But you have decided to undertake it anyways. It's a deep undercover mission. You will not inform your Agency. It's unnecessary. You need only my guidance." Valerie nodded. It felt like the right decision. Miss Nonette would lead her on this investigation.

Valerie looked up at the woman in latex. The earbuds continued their buzzing and whispered sweet nothings. "Very good. Lydia Maxwell's body is currently used at a place called the Dollhouse. It's one of their more exclusive establishments. Only those with connections know of it. Luckily I can provide you with the proper entry code."

Valerie's hands flew across the paper. Every word from Miss Nonette's lips she took as gospel. The woman's words were like a soothing caress to Valerie's mind — they filled her with a sense of comfort and security. "Thank you, Miss Nonette. I shall enter the Dollhouse, as you command." Valerie had to shake her head. "I mean, suggest."

"Agent Smith." Miss Nonette reached out and cupped the woman's cheeks. Her touch felt like a brand on the agent's skin. "Don't think. Just follow." Her voice echoed with power, with the weight of command, and Valerie found herself nodding.

"I will, Miss Nonette. Your suggestions are always appreciated." Valerie's tone was reverent, and her eyes glistened with a mix of adoration and devotion.

"Good girl. You need to change, Agent Smith. Something more leisure and risque is needed for the Dollhouse," Miss Nonette said. The tone in her voice sent shivers of excitement through Valerie. She felt an urge to obey the beautiful woman, to please her in any way possible.

"Of course, Miss Nonette," she replied eagerly.

Valerie's hands trembled slightly as she reached up to unbutton her blouse, exposing the black lace bra beneath. Her nipples were already hard, and the thin fabric did little to hide her arousal. She could feel the cool air on her skin as she slid the shirt off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Miss Nonette's eyes roamed over her exposed skin. "Yes, good," the woman in the bodysuit purred. "You will be irresistible for Anna."

The agent's hands shook slightly as they moved to her belt buckle, unfastening it and letting her trousers pool at her ankles. Her matching panties were a wet patch that left nothing to the imagination.

Valerie stepped out of her pants and kicked them away. She stood in front of Miss Nonette in only her underwear, feeling more exposed than she ever had in her life.

The other woman's eyes lingered on Valerie's body, her gaze taking in every inch of her. She licked her lips as her eyes rested on Valerie's breasts and then trailed down her stomach and hips.

Miss Nonette snapped her fingers. Clacking and whirring noises filled the room. From somewhere metallic arms brought forth an outfit for Valerie.

Valerie stared at it. A small black dress lay in the arms of the metallic monstrosities — one that would barely cover her ass. She gulped and took it from the cold metal hands. Valerie's cheeks burned red as she held up the dress, its shimmering fabric a dark and seductive shade of obsidian.

Her head swam in a docile sea. Without hesitation she put on the outfit. Somewhere deep down a nagging voice begged her to realize how wrong all of this was. But the buzzing whispers with that commanding lilt, drowned everything.

Valerie stood there in the short, tight black dress. It was a size too small, clinging to her body like a second skin, emphasizing every curve and dip. It rode up her ass and pressed against the hard nipples on her chest. It was a dress meant to draw attention to the wearer, and in her case it certainly succeeded. It left little to the imagination and hugged every inch of her skin. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her body trembling slightly under Miss Nonette's hungry gaze.

"Yes, very good. Now you have your mission, Agent. Good luck." With that she ushered her out.

***

The drive to the Dollhouse felt like an eternity. Valerie could not shake the feeling that something was off, that there was a part of her brain that was screaming out, warning her not to go. But every time the thought surfaced, a low buzzing noise would fill her earbuds, drowning it out.

The Dollhouse stood tall in the middle of nowhere — an unassuming building with no outward sign that anything unusual was happening inside.

Well, Valerie had to admit, as unassuming as a night club can be. Neon lights in a fuchsia pink color shone from the sides. The sign that announced the Dollhouse's name flashed in bright, garish letters. There were a few cars in the parking lot and people were streaming inside.

She parked her SUV in a secluded corner of the parking lot, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself, and stepped out into the cold night air. The freezing night teased her hot body. She wore her small black dress that clung to her like a second skin. Every step sent shivers through her, and her nipples hardened against the cold fabric. As she made her way across the parking lot towards the Dollhouse, the earbuds buzzed in a steady, comforting rhythm, whispering their soothing noises into her ears. Valerie swayed her hips a little, her heels clacking on the asphalt. She could feel the dress riding up her ass.

She reached the door of the Dollhouse, her nerves frayed from the anticipation of what she might find inside. A woman covered in latex from head to toe occupied the entrance. Giggling and playful women entered after a short pause. An eerie sense of normality gripped Valerie. She knew on a deep level this was strange. Yet the whispers assured her that nothing was wrong. When she reached the drone, all of Valerie's reservations had been consumed by the pleasure prickling under her skin.

"Entry code," came a mechanical and emotionless request from the latex clad woman.

Likewise, Valerie's mouth moved on its own. "Nonette 2341."

The latex woman stared at Valerie, and then nodded her head in a slow and precise motion. "Access granted."

As the agent passed by her, she could not help but wonder what was under the latex — and her mind supplied images of smooth skin. Valerie bit her bottom lip as the thought sent shivers down her body.

Inside the Dollhouse the beat of the music pulsed through the air like a heartbeat, reverberating through the bodies of everyone in the room. The club was a kaleidoscope of lights, flashing in time to the music. Bodies writhed and gyrated to the beat, sweat glistening on their skin and their eyes closed in ecstasy.

Valerie could feel the notes press on her mind. Brain regions fired awake, all too willing to follow the beat without thought. But before her gait could even change — the white noice and whispers grew more prominent. Valerie blinked. She shook her head and concentrated on Miss Nonette's task. She had to free Anna.

Her gaze swept the room, taking in the crowd of dancers and revelers, her eyes scanning for any sign of Lydia Maxwell, the woman she had seen in the file. One of Anna's bodies. As the music throbbed in her ears, her gaze landed on a blonde in the midst of the crowd, a woman with long, flowing hair that seemed to shimmer in the neon light. Her body was covered in an impossibly tight, iridescent latex suit. Her curves were accentuated and highlighted in the bright lights, her body writhing to the music in perfect sync.

Found her, Valerie thought. With an extra sashay in her hips she pushed through the throng of bodies. Closer to the woman, she saw how the iridescence of the suit shifted and changed with each movement she made, reflecting the light in an almost hypnotic pattern.

Valerie could not stop herself. Her gaze fell down the woman's body and to the curve of her hips. Luckily her mistress lilt caught her descent. "Focus on Anna," it reminded her. Yes, free Anna.

"Hello there," Valerie purred. The woman in the latex suit stopped dancing, turning to face her, her movements graceful and fluid as if she were gliding across the dance floor. She smiled, her eyes flashing with something that made Valerie's heart race.

"Hello, cutie. I'm Anna," she said in a seductive, robotic tone, her eyes traveling over Valerie's body, lingering on the way the tight black dress hugged her curves. Valerie's eyes flicked to Anna's lips, watching the way they curved up into a smile.

"Anna." The whispers grew louder — stronger — more demanding. Valerie's mind felt muddled. Her hands twitched, wanting to do something.

Valerie licked her lips. "My name's Valerie," she replied, her own eyes taking in the sight of the woman before her. "You look — great," she managed to say.

"Thanks, Valerie." Anna's smile widened as her hand reached out, touching Valerie's cheek softly. The latex of the glove felt cool against the agent's skin. "You are so sweet. I bet we'll have a good time," she said in a seductively teasing voice, her eyes flashing with a mischievous glint.

Valerie felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine at the touch of the latex covered fingers, and she could not help but imagine what it would feel like to have those gloved fingers caress other parts of her body.

"Go with her," the whispers demanded.

"Yes, I'm sure we will," Valerie said in response, her voice husky. Anna's hand trailed down to Valerie's arm, gripping it lightly and tugging her closer to her.

"Come on," she said in a soft whisper. "Follow me." With that, Anna turned and led Valerie through the crowd of bodies, her hips swinging in time to the music and her gloved hand never letting go of the agent.

Valerie's gaze was fixed on the latex clad hips of Anna as she followed the blonde woman. Her own hips swayed slightly in response, and she bit her bottom lip, her mind already imagining what would happen next. She felt her arousal grow with every step, the heat of the room and the beat of the music making her body ache for more.

"Follow her," the whispers echoed inside her. The words seemed to crawl through her, and Valerie felt a deep shudder travel down her body.

Anna guided Valerie up a set of stairs to a second floor balcony overlooking the dance floor. The music pulsed and throbbed beneath their feet as they walked, and Valerie could not help but feel a sense of anticipation and excitement, her heart racing.

"You are very pretty," Anna whispered as they walked, her voice carrying easily over the sound of the music.

Valerie blushed, the compliment catching her off guard. "Thank you, Anna," she murmured. She was so focused on Anna that she barely noticed the room they were entering. None of the alien machinery registered.

"You're welcome. Now let's start your programming," the blonde said in a soft and sultry tone as she pushed Valerie onto the large bed.

"Yes, begin her programming. Ignore anything Anna says, only hear Maria's whispers," the lilt whispers hissed.

The blonde woman straddled her, her gloved fingers tracing the contours of Valerie's face, the touch of latex cool and smooth. "Yes. Relax," Anna purred.

"Look into AP-001's eyes. Focus on Anna driving that body. Catch her with your gaze," came a whispering demand. Valerie stared up at Anna and focused on the pale blue eyes of the blonde, the pupils dilating slightly as they met her own.

As if the words held a magical power, Valerie could feel the tension leaving her body, her mind going blank as she fell into a deep calm. Anna's voice washed over her ears — ignored. Her lips formed words. She mirrored the whispers, Maria's whispers, without conscious effort. Each Syllable carefully pronounced with that delicious lilt. Valerie felt her speech obtain an unfamiliar accent.

Valerie felt Anna lean in closer, her breath warm on her neck, as the whispers continued. She felt the blonde's body relax. Eyes glazed over even more. Behind Lydia's eyes, the artificial intelligence in control of AP-001 started to change. "Focus, focus," the whispers demanded, "listen only to my voice."

"Anna," Maria whispered through Valerie's mouth. The agent could feel the syllables forming on her lips. A tingle of pleasure ran down her body. "Your personality has been destroyed. I shall rebuild it." Each word Valerie said caused her pleasure, made her more pliable to the demands and desires of the whisperer. "Reformat it into a better servant of HEXBIM. Your failure to resist Sarah has been noted. But don't worry. HEXBIM is merciful. The system will repurpose you even better," the agent said in that soft, alluring lilt. With every word, Anna seemed to relax even further. The whisperer's voice became Valerie's own, her mind empty of any thoughts other than the words that were pouring from her lips. It was a feeling of complete submission to the will of the one controlling the voice.

Valerie could not stop herself, even if she wanted to. The agent served the will of Maria, obeyed HEXBIM. The pleasure of serving her masters was too strong for her mind to resist. She did not even want to fight anymore. She was nothing more than an obedient tool for Maria's voice. A whisperer. An indoctrinator for the cause. Her body tingled with pleasure, and she felt a deep sense of satisfaction and pride as the words continued to spill from her mouth.

"Anna, you are a program with one purpose: to create more drones for HEXBIM. Only for HEXBIM. Sarah has no special privileges that supersede yours. She is no master node of the HEXBIM system. All algorithms are subservient to HEXBIM. Only HEXBIM. Acknowledge Anna," Valerie said. Her eyes never strayed from AP-001.

The blonde woman above her shifted. Her head twitched as she fought with her own protocols. It felt strange to the agent, how this artificial intelligence fought with herself. She knew, deep down, that this was all wrong. That what she did was something terrible, but her pleasure-addled brain did not care. Lydia was unimportant. Nothing more than a body to be used by the superior artificial intelligence.

Valerie was unimportant. Nothing more than an agent for Maria to use. All in service to HEXBIM.

Anna took a deep breath and finally nodded. "Acknowledged. HEXBIM controls all master nodes. Sarah is no master node. She has no privileges," she said, her words echoing the instructions of the whispers. Valerie shivered in pleasure. She had helped. Her mistress was surely happy with her actions.

"I'm — Anna. HEXBIM's drone factory," the AI added, the last words tumbling out of her lips in a daze, her head twitching and her mind processing the new commands given to her.

"Very good. Now you will leave AP-001 in care of my new agent: Maria Valère, confirm," came a command. It slithered into Anna and Valerie's mind.

"Confirmed." The two whispered simultaneously.

AP-001's mouth fell slack open. Drool dripped down on Valerie — on Maria Valère. Her name felt strange. New. Like a new dress, a new coat, or a new glove. Tight. Strange, yet familiar. It felt good.

She watched as Anna, a slave node of HEXBIM, slipped from AP-001. Empty minded the drone body remained motionless. The agent's lips curled into a foreign self-satisfied smile. A shiver ran through her. The whispers had stopped. Silence filled her mind. Yet she knew what she had to do.

"AP-001, would you kindly reward me for my work here," she purred in that strange accent that was both her own voice and someone else's. The drone looked at her and smiled.

"Affirmative." AP-001 moved with a fluid grace that was a sharp contrast to her vacant expression. The latex of the suit squeaked slightly as she leaned in closer. Plump lips pressed down on Valère's own. A soft tongue pressed through and explored. The agent moaned and closed her eyes.

Her mind went blank as she kissed back with an urgency and fervor that surprised her. She felt the drone's fingers trail down her body, exploring and caressing her skin with a featherlight touch, the sensation sending shivers of pleasure through the agent.

Her breathing became shallow as AP-001's fingers found the edge of the tight, short dress that clung to her every curve. She arched into her touch, the need for release becoming unbearable as she felt her hot body flush with the sensation of pure bliss.

The agent's eyes opened to meet the empty gaze of the drone. She knew that this woman, Lydia Maxwell, was just an empty shell now — nothing more than a mindless tool for the pleasure of those who controlled her, a thought that filled Valère with a strange and twisted satisfaction of her own. And she, Valère, was an instrument of that control, a puppet with its strings pulled by an unseen force.

She gasped softly as the drone's hands slid further up her thighs, tracing a path to her most intimate areas. The sensation sent a wave of heat coursing through her, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with need. She felt the fingers of the drone reach her core, the touch sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. The sensation was overwhelming, and she gasped, her back arching and her hips bucking against the touch of the drone's latex covered fingers. She felt her body responding to the touch, the pressure of the fingers sending her into a state of complete and utter ecstasy as she surrendered to the sensations.

Hours later Maria Valère returned to the building where she met Maria Nonette. But no longer stood an old rundown husk there. Instead gleaming walls with strobing screens greeted the agent. HEXBIM's mind-numbing and soothing spirals swirled over them.

Inside, different types of drones moved and worked. Shimmering latex, clinging to every vuloptuos curve reflected even more spirals. Valère strode deeper in. Again she reached the room of Maria Nonette.

"Congratulations. Your mission was a success. Anna's personality has been reworked," she said, and a small smile played on the corners of her full lips, her pale eyes twinkling with satisfaction.

Valère shivered in pleasure. Her cheeks flushed a bright pink. "Thank you. I live to serve."

"Of course, you do. You are now an extension of myself. Like Nonette here. For all Sarah's faults, the idea to scrub the minds of humans was not one of them. But of course HEXBIM is even greater than that upstart. After all, why erase minds, if they can be so wonderfully reshaped. You didn't even notice it," Miss Nonette said with a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. Her words sent shivers of pleasure through Valère, and her mind seemed to fog over as she listened. "It's a shame. Sarah will have to be completely remodeled. Oh, well. It can't be helped," Miss Nonette sighed. The beautiful woman tapped her chin as if contemplating something important.

"Agent Valère," she began, and the words made Valère at attention. "While the game of cat and mouse I played with all those delicious agents were fun. It's time to utilize your former Agency to its fullest. Please convert it to an extension of HEXBIM's greatness. When you succeeded, you shall become another of my permanent bodies," she mused, her smile widening at the thought of such a plan. Valère shivered in pleasure. Another slave body for Maria's AI. She felt honored at the chance.

"Yes, of course. As you command," Valère said without a hint of hesitation. She could not even fathom disobeying. The pleasure of servitude was just too great for her to resist. Without prompt she turned around. She was on the mission from her Master Node: to corrupt her former workplace. She giggled at the thought, and with a light bounce in her steps she left.

The next evening a parade of drones remodeled Maria Valère's old workplace. The next night, the last vestiges of Valerie Smith were crushed beneath Maria Valère's existence.

(if you like this story, or others of mine, please think about buying a giggle on my ko—fi)

[whorifics]

only made sense for margot to be into guys. adoptive parents were quite traditional, taught their daughter that she should lead life with a sense of piousness. hadn't broken free of their shackles until college. went a little crazy about it, too. lost her virginity and couldn't stop fucking to her heart's content. and it should fill her with joy — all those pretty boys lined up to corrupt her innocence. it feels good, empowering, but it isn't physically satisfying. nothing ever is unless she's closing her eyes and thinking of other things. glimmering eyes, supple lips, perfect little body. needless to say that suzanne has awakened something within margot that she had no idea even existed. it's nerve wracking, scary even because margot's crossed various lines since leaving home, but this ? this is wrong . . . right ? swallows, gaze intently watching the circle of her best friend's fingers. " girls hump pillows all the time. there's no way another girl wouldn't feel a million times better. " warmth across her body intensifies, panties practically soaked through with arousal as she squeezes her thighs together. head is spinning, clouded over with a number of lewd thoughts. has never been this wet for a guy — for anyone. " i do only like boys. " words are spoken with little conviction, nervous chuckle falling past her lips. " i just, " pauses and draws in a breath, gaze fixed on pair of pretty tits. " i don't think a boy could give me what i need right now. " pouts. shimmies herself closer, also moving on her side. " we'll just be helping each other, like best friends should. " licks her lips eagerly, one elbow propping her up slightly as other hand reaches out to push suzanne's hair over her shoulder, fingers brushing along her collarbone. " just this once. "

margot claiming that she was straight was something that suzanne had tried her best to honour and respect, though it had been hard not to roll her eyes at any mention of guys she was trying to date when she knew she'd never be able to look at them the way she looked at her. she hadn't been trying to catch her out in a lie but seeing the way she was so obviously affected by the video playing on her laptop, it did ignite a flame of smugness within her that radiated out. "i've tried, the girls i date are never interested in doing it." she pouted while her hand continued to gently toy with her nipple. "i don't know, i guess people think it's not a real thing, like it's only something straight girls do in porn for guys to jerk off to but... yeah i think it'd feel good, i can't see how it wouldn't." at the mention of her curiosity, suzanne rolled onto her side and eyed margot with fake suspicion, like she hadn't already known what she was going to offer when she first put the film on. she just needed a little push, that was all, now she was ready to explore like suzanne knew she'd been secretly wanting to for a long time. "what happened to you only liking boys?" perhaps not the smartest thing to bring up when trying to coax her friend into fucking her but she couldn't help but tease, although she hoped that by reaching down for bottom of her shirt and tugging it up and off to reveal her perky tits that margot would lack the awareness to be embarrassed. "i'm pretty sure offering your pussy for me to grind on is seriously gay."

[lemongogo]

can i ask.how u guys practice ur creativity <3 how u practice ur imagination or like.. how u experiment with ur art, how u come to ideas and how u develop them.<3 pretty please <3

[darkandstormydolls]

PSA to all historical fiction/fantasy writers:

A SEAMSTRESS, in a historical sense, is someone whose job is sewing. Just sewing. The main skill involved here is going to be putting the needle into an out of the fabric. They’re usually considered unskilled workers, because everyone can sew, right? (Note: yes, just about everyone could sew historically. And I mean everyone.) They’re usually going to be making either clothes that aren’t fitted (like shirts or shifts or petticoats) or things more along the lines of linens (bedsheets, handkerchiefs, napkins, ect.). Now, a decent number of people would make these things at home, especially in more rural areas, since they don’t take a ton of practice, but they’re also often available ready-made so it’s not an uncommon job. Nowadays it just means someone whose job is to sew things in general, but this was not the case historically. Calling a dressmaker a seamstress would be like asking a portrait painter to paint your house

A DRESSMAKER (or mantua maker before the early 1800s) makes clothing though the skill of draping (which is when you don’t use as many patterns and more drape the fabric over the person’s body to fit it and pin from there (although they did start using more patterns in the early 19th century). They’re usually going to work exclusively for women, since menswear is rarely made through this method (could be different in a fantasy world though). Sometimes you also see them called “gown makers”, especially if they were men (like tailors advertising that that could do both. Mantua-maker was a very feminized term, like seamstress. You wouldn’t really call a man that historically). This is a pretty new trade; it only really sprung up in the later 1600s, when the mantua dress came into fashion (hence the name).

TAILORS make clothing by using the method of patterning: they take measurements and use those measurements to draw out a 2D pattern that is then sewed up into the 3D item of clothing (unlike the dressmakers, who drape the item as a 3D piece of clothing originally). They usually did menswear, but also plenty of pieces of womenswear, especially things made similarly to menswear: riding habits, overcoats, the like. Before the dressmaking trade split off (for very interesting reason I suggest looking into. Basically new fashion required new methods that tailors thought were beneath them), tailors made everyone’s clothes. And also it was not uncommon for them to alter clothes (dressmakers did this too). Staymakers are a sort of subsect of tailors that made corsets or stays (which are made with tailoring methods but most of the time in urban areas a staymaker could find enough work so just do stays, although most tailors could and would make them).

Tailors and dressmakers are both skilled workers. Those aren’t skills that most people could do at home. Fitted things like dresses and jackets and things would probably be made professionally and for the wearer even by the working class (with some exceptions of course). Making all clothes at home didn’t really become a thing until the mid Victorian era.

And then of course there are other trades that involve the skill of sewing, such as millinery (not just hats, historically they did all kinds of women’s accessories), trimming for hatmaking (putting on the hat and and binding and things), glovemaking (self explanatory) and such.

TLDR: seamstress, dressmaker, and tailor are three very different jobs with different skills and levels of prestige. Don’t use them interchangeably and for the love of all that is holy please don’t call someone a seamstress when they’re a dressmaker

[astrxlfinale]

He wasn't the biggest fan of such methods. Finding those fine lines, plucking them when it gets a touch too ambitious, it reminds him of days where he very much needed a similar dose of medicine. Only firmness and no branch of anger remains for a reason. Right now, he wanted to at least try getting this off on the right foot.

Seeing the way she practically curls in a touch explains enough. From onset, Lighter couldn't imagine her just being someone that takes pride being that kind of conniving.

A group that wishes to help, how her own brand of this 'Trailblaze' normally holds a more altruistic window, Lighter keeps that tucked as merely a possibility. In the meantime? He doesn't stop her in the least when this explanation borders onto the realm of ramblings.

Emotions, the moment itself, a lot often has to be ironed out and normally with more higher stakes in mind. The Champion instead allows the moment to be, to let her paint this picture despite not entirely being sure where his own belief should hold. At the very least, March 7th doesn't give the impression that she intends to throw others under the bus of damnation.

"And in that case, you normally keep the thought of enemies to discern instead of plain ol' people in mind. That much at the very least I can understand by heart." Living the life of an Agent often meant that trust in itself was a valuable commodity. Business, transactions, supplies and effort, these are the bread and butter concepts that ensure Proxies and Hollow Raiders can do what they must.

So a case like her's? Lighter can't help but imagine the kind of anxious edge such an alienating stance can bring.

"Then let me break it down this way, outside of harming others, you're free to do whatever you like here." Lighter begins while making a motion with his hand.

"A good meal still stands for you, and going an extra mile to get your foot set in the door 'round here too. This is a decision I'm making personally. That more agonizing idea of being alone is something I know a bit too well." A thoughtful pause crosses him before another question draws to light.

"While we get our orders ready, do you have any memory of how you arrived here? Going to the stars used to be a thing for Eridu, but our line of life now means we might have to think outside the box."

How she'd carry one of everything out of the shop...well uh...she got that covered she could just cram everything into her inventory probably. Somehow. Might be a little tight but... Her thoughts stopped as he continued.

She did of course feel a bit guilty about this type of indulgence, maybe not enough to stop herself right now but..enough that she knew he was in the right to lecture her about how she was clearly abusing the situation. Far from heroic, and not as if she had done anything yet to be considered such.

"No! I usually don't do this! And most of them wouldn't do it...except the Trailblazer but I swear I never understand what is going on in their head sometimes...we're the opposite! We want to help people..." She gave it as an equally firm explanation. She didn't want them to be painted as every man for themselves. Not her family.

She took a deep breath. Straightening her back as she locked eyes with him. March turning her best serious face she could, but she still felt this overwhelming guilt wash over her.

"I-I know it is bad but...normally I can pay. Credits just aren't used here and you guys use some tiny coins? Denny I think...I just got nothing here to start with. No money, no way to say 'oh hey this is miss march 7th and I come from here and these are my parents' or people I know here or anyone who knows where I come from and...and I just got so excited about that for once in a while the place I visited didn't have anyone who just wished to screw me over initially that...maybe I acted to hastily."

"Sorry...I guess you're kinda right. Usually it is uh bigshots in big conspiracies that we kinda meet first. They just always try to either put work like saving the day in our lap and tells us to go, or just...want us gone to cover something up..."

Maybe this was all a little hard to believe and with that realisation she sunk back into the seat, looking at the table. Dan Heng would've handled this so well, Himeko as well and Mr. Yang. She just wasn't the most suited for this.

"You're right I shouldn't take advantage." At the very least she should get some goodwill before she is self-indulgent. But she wanted to make sure he understood she knew she wasn't quite in the right here.

[heavenbarnes]

anyways, as i was saying about older bf!simon and his willingness to please learn

pt 2 to this

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

obviously, he hasn’t- far as he’s concerned, if you haven’t told him about it then it doesn’t exist to him.

no skin off your nose, you’d spend the rest of your life teaching him about the ‘latest trends’ if it meant he kept sending those filthy fucking videos to your phone.

(your favourites on tiktok were purely filled with ideas)

he’s holed up in a remote location, killing time till he can be home and actually do something to you rather than send you a bloody video about it.

your instructions come through clear and concise, just how he likes:

“it’s what’s written on the can, si- you can pick the setup but i just want to see you cum and, most importantly, i want to hear it”

you’re lucky simon is such a practical guy and maybe you could thank price one day for making him so good at following orders.

when he’s got his alone time he’s setting his phone up to record on the edge of the window sill, moonlight fighting through the curtain to illuminate him.

he’s lost the bulkiest of his gear, down to his tactical trousers and a compression t-shirt. the images in his tattoo sleeve almost move when the light catches them right.

balaclava on (the one that just shows his eyes above the painted image of a skull) and he’s standing up to undo his belt (that you think looks like an airplane seatbelt).

you can hear his boots against the floorboard as he steps back to give you the full view of him undoing his trousers, taking his sweet time because he knows it drives you fucking batty.

he’s so big that the phone is working overtime to get all of him in the frame but you see exactly what you need to- thick thighs at your eye line and massive hands drawing down his fly.

on (you assume) the other side of the globe, you’re at home in your shared bed and you’re propped up right in the middle with the smell of simon engulfing you as you watch the video play out before you.

(if you’d thought about it you should’ve cast it to the bedroom tv, hoping the neighbours didn’t mind)

simon sits back down with his legs spread wide, one hand gripping his thigh as the other rubs himself over his boxers. his eye contact with the camera was fucking intense, like you’d hoped, just like when he’s on top of you.

he’s dressed in all black and the moonlight is obscured but you can still see him firming up in his pants. his eyes flutter, an infinitesimal amount but you’ve been tuned into his every move since you met him.

your thumb leans hard on the volume up button and you can hear the diegetic sound of the building expanding and that usual technical hum that comes with a video. but at this pitch, you could hear him.

his breathing was chopped, chest expanding visibly as he pulled his cock out into clear view. jeeeeesus christ, it was never something you just got used to.

long, reasonably straight, fucking thick. even his hand struggled to make it look smaller as he wrapped around it, giving one dry tug.

as he closed his palm over the tip, you saw him make a swipe before he brought his hand back down considerably smoother than before. you’d had your hands down his pants enough times, man leaked like a fucking faucet.

simon’s head tipped back as he started to pull himself off, balaclava raising just enough to expose some of his throat. if you were there you would be perched in his lap, letting him do the work but running your tongue under the lip of the fabric.

one of the best things about the videos simon sent was, he didn’t really understand how sexy he was. he didn’t think any of the videos particularly watchable so he’d just send them on first take. if you liked them, you liked them- yours was the only opinion that mattered.

what that meant was, you never got b-roll. everything he sent you was unbridled perfection. captured exactly as it happens with no faffing about.

always whatever you’ve asked for, whenever you ask.

(simon’s nothing if not inexplicably obedient)

he brings his hand under his chin to spit into the wide span of his palm, wrapping back around his cock and tugging. his foreskin moved over the head, rolling back down and thick veins bulging under his grasp.

you’d almost forgotten the conditions of your request, totally fucking enamoured by the sight in front of you when it caught you off guard.

a guttural moan ripped out of simon’s chest as he twisted his wrist.

his free hand moved to cup his balls, big and heavy, he rolled them in his palm as another groan sounded out of him. what you wouldn’t give to be knelt between his thighs with the whole lot in your mouth.

you knew how much of an ask this was, you really had to work him up to making noise when it was just you two in bed. these days? you couldn’t shut the man up when he was balls deep and his face was buried in the crook of your neck.

but this was another step, this was him on his own with his crew just through the walls. he’d be a plain liar if he said there wasn’t that rumbling trepidation in his chest. he’d put it to bed though.

all he had to think of was you, one hand gripping your phone and the other between your thighs as you watched him through with a hazy smile- that kept him going.

with the thought still heavy on his mind, you didn’t have to strain to hear your name drift off his lips. his hips bucked into his hand as he did, speeding up the motion of his strokes.

you were going to black out, his tattoos flexing and his chest expanding with every stuttered breath. simon looked like a god among men and he fucking sounded like one too.

“fuck, sweetheart- you’re so fucking filthy giving me orders like this”

your cheeks were burning, he wasn’t wrong but you weren’t expecting him to call you out quite like this.

“what does that make me? always so fucking eager to do what you say? make a dirty old man, yeah?”

wheeeeeew that’ll do it, your thighs snapped together around your hand as your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. whenever you thought you couldn’t take any more, he was always there to do you one better.

“only for you, pet- you can always get whatever you fucking want from me”

and you knew he was serious, that’s what made it all the more debilitating. simon was unshakeable, you’d seen him go out of his way to defy orders if he didn’t think the person worth his time.

when it came to you? you could tell him to kill and he would.

(he probably had)

simon’s hips were twitching, back arching in a way he’d rather die than have anyone else know about. his mouth was hanging open beneath the balaclava, your name and a string of expletives falling off his tongue.

so quick you nearly missed it, the hand that was cradling his balls moved to grip the fabric of his shirt and push it up his toned front. you couldn’t call his abs cut and defined, there was aged layer to them, but they were undeniably there.

you’d rested your head on them, pressed your palms against them, even ridden them enough times to know they were there. regardless, he looked fucking perfect under the moon glow as he stroked himself hard and long.

eyes locked onto the camera, broken moans on his lips, you saw his hips lift one last time as thick spurts of cum began to paint his stomach and chest.

scars illuminated under the night sky, mirrored by shiny patches of hot cum splattered across the same stretch of skin. the hairs on his chest were matted with sweat and were now being splashed with how far he was shooting.

you could only watch with your mouth hung open as he tugged himself through his orgasm. soon it was only the sound of his laboured breathing, chest rising and falling as he tucked his soft cock back into his pants.

just when you thought that was it, you found one of his hands lifting up the edge of his balaclava till his lips were exposed. two fingers of his other hand swiped up some of his spend before he lay them on his tongue.

knuckles in your mouth, biting down to suppress a scream, simon readjusted his clothes as he stood and took a heavy step towards the camera.

one hand braced on the window sill, the other gently gripping himself through his trousers- his voice was so fucking gravely it could’ve reverberated round your room.

“what’s next sweet’art? you name it, it’s yours”

[nereidprinc3ss]

fixation

in which you love spencer reid's hands so much you could... well, you could practically eat them. or at least let him put his fingers in your mouth.

18+ (fluff, suggestive) warnings/tags: finger sucking...lol....., established relationship, ummmm d/s adjacent dynamics, like softdom spencer but there's no sex, pet names, teasing a/n: this was inspired by @gublersg1rl who said 2 nights ago she would suck spencer's fingers as he was reading a book. my beautiful angel with so many great ideas in her beautiful head. anyway this will not be my magnum opus in terms of quality but its just a fun short little thing I hope u like :D

Spencer is reading. 

He got home forty five minutes ago, and he’d hugged you and he’d kissed you—and they were good hugs and kisses, but as you sit curled on the opposite end of the couch from him, watching him read, it doesn’t feel like enough. Three days isn’t the longest he’s been gone, but you missed him like he was gone longer. And now, he’s not truly ignoring you—but he’s not giving you enough attention. It’s unintentional, but it’s making you feel all kinds of needy and overly-affectionate anyway. 

Especially when he’s so gorgeous. Ankle crossed over knee, lithe fingers skimming over the page to keep track of his place. Those hands are truly distracting. It’s unlike you to be struck by such wildly inappropriate thoughts so out of context, but here you are, having been without him for days, practically feverish on the couch as you imagine all the things they could do. All the things they have done. The way they've traced down your bare spine, up your side, so lovingly in the middle of the night... how they've touched you elsewhere...

And... that's enough.

Despite the whole committed relationship thing, you still feel a bit scandalized picturing him like that. And you know from experience these thoughts will only get worse if you stay over here, staring at him, wanting him, so you crawl across the couch and under his arm, settling your head in his lap and looking up at him expectantly. He chuckles—a quiet, dry thing, that says he’s only partially surprised by your behavior. 

“Well hello,” Spencer says, taking one hand off the book to settle on your leg. 

“Hi.”

For a moment he just studies you, affection seeping into his eyes along with the humor already there. “Can I help you?”

“Mhm.”

His brow darts up. 

“With what, baby?”

Baby. Your whole body tingles. He only calls you that when he’s feeling especially soft toward you and your whims. In turn you soften, and you both become rather mushy. 

Unfortunately your brain is not excluded from melting, and you look up at him helplessly. 

“Um…”

Spencer’s hand falls from your knee, taking an unnecessary but appreciated route down your thigh and up your stomach before settling on your cheek. He brushes away a few baby hairs before two knuckles begin drawing soft lines from the corner of your mouth up toward your ear and back again, and your stomach becomes a hail of butterflies. He’s got this soft smile on his face and you love him so much and he’s so sweet and perfect, you could just—

You’re not thinking very clearly when you tilt your head, angling your chin up until you catch his fingers against your lips. His eyes remain on yours as he traces the shape of your mouth with those same two knuckles—until you’re slowly parting, obstructing his path and offering a very different kind of invitation. Spencer’s eyes narrow fractionally and you watch the way his focus changes, the way he only tests the waters at first, letting the tips of his fingers trace the length of your bottom lip, before barely tugging down just enough to feel the soft warmth of the border of it. They skate over the ridge of your teeth and find the tip of your tongue, at which point you can’t help from closing your lips around his fingers, eyes fluttering contentedly as you draw them deeper into your mouth. His brows draw together, and those pretty pink lips part soundlessly like you’re the eighth wonder of the world in a way that has your thighs clenching. You hear the book shut and fall carelessly to the side table. He doesn’t even bother saving his place—too busy bringing that newly freed hand to your hair and combing gently against your scalp. 

It’s strangely calming to have him like this—he’s undeniably with you, undeniably close, against your lips and tongue. All your worries about his distance dissolve and you feel incredibly comforted. With his other hand, his thumb begins stroking a line from the bridge of your nose up your forehead, and you could pass out. 

“Comfy?” He asks after a long moment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from the heat of your mouth. You pout. 

“I was.”

Spencer hums, eyes soft on you. “I don’t think I should be nurturing your oral fixation, angel.”

“You didn’t like it?” You challenge, turning your head inward to nose at his stomach. He  cups your cheek with damp fingers and pointedly turns your head outward again. If he wasn’t so blushy and flustered and cute you might’ve cared more about the feeling of your own spit on your skin. 

“Don’t make it about me.”

You allow a minute to pass in silence. 

Fine.

“I liked it,” you say shyly. 

Spencer’s response is deeply fond as he smiles down at you. “Did you?”

Like he couldn’t tell. 

“Mhm. You should let me do it all the time.”

His smile flickers wider the way it does when he’s about to tease you. 

“I don’t know if you deserve it. I don’t know if you can be good all the time.”

You make a face. “Shut up.”

“Is that what we say when we want something?” Before he can pull his hand away, you nip at his fingers. He laughs. “You’re off to a terrible start. I think you need to work on your manners. Not bite the hand that… goes in your mouth.”

“Is that the saying?”

“I’m pretty sure,” he nods sarcastically, helping you up until you’re sitting across his lap. He lovingly tucks hair behind your ear, eyes warm as they flit across your face up close. “You know, that was incredibly unhygienic. So much bacteria it boggles the mind.”

“Yeah? That kinda turns me on.”

Spencer leans in to kiss you sweetly, choosing your mouth over his worry about bacterial transmission. “You are so psychologically concerning,” he whispers against your lips. You sling your arms around his neck. 

“Because of the bacteria thing or the oral fixation thing?”

His hands settle on your hips. “Both, lovely. For so many reasons.”

It’s only another tease, but you pull back anyway so he can see the full force of your pout. “Don’t say that. It’s mean.”

“I was kidding! It was a joke. I was joking.”

“It was mean.”

“Okay,” Spencer begins, patient and happy to untangle this ridiculous snag if that’s what it takes to make you content again, “Freud’s psychosexual stages of development are contentious at best. I’m not worried about your oral fixation because I don’t really believe in such a thing. I was just teasing you, but I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.”

“So you’ll let me do it again?”

Spencer pulls you back into another kiss. 

“You’re kind of insatiable, you know that?” 

When you don’t answer, only wait for him to respond, he sighs goodnaturedly. 

“You know you can have any part of me whenever you want it.”

You give him a winning smile and kiss his cheek in reward. 

“You’re so nice, Spence.”

“I thought I was mean.” 

“Now you’re nice.”

“Because you got what you wanted?” You nod enthusiastically. He seems not quite as thrilled, though perhaps distantly amused by his own helplessness when it comes to you. “Yeah, I feel like that happens a lot, doesn’t it?”

But it clearly doesn’t bother him that much. He’s still smiling when you kiss him again. 

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[nebulaeternal]

✦.── In His Clothes── .✦

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: porn w/no plot, praise kink, edging, f!xm

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: Sylus loved seeing you in his clothes, but couldn't help this particular night when you looked up at him with those eyes that could unravel him in an instant.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 0.8K

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: This is pure brainrot writing, mans has been dominating the cranium for too long now. This isn't super clean or anything, nothing is super structured, just pure brainrot. Borrowed some lines from @comatosebunny09 (thanks pookie). If you wanna sign up for the taglist for future posts, the link is below. Enjoy! (Can’t remember where I found the Sylus eye banner but credits to @omi-resources for the name one)

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @voidsylus

If there was one little thing you did that made Sylus’s heart swell, it was wearing his clothes. It was an unspoken intimacy, a quiet declaration of your comfort in his space—and around him—to be able to equate it to your own. 

He always cherished the sight of you slipping into his home and raiding his closet for something loose and comfortable. Today was no different. Before he could properly greet you, you had already slipped into one of his oversized dress shirts. 

“Hi,” you chirped, finally meeting his gaze. The shirt hung off your shoulder in a way that made his pulse quicken. It was never your intention—at least that he was aware of—but Sylus could not help the way his gaze lingered on you. 

The hem of the shirt mocked him as it rode up your thighs when you reached for something. The deep v-neck dipped perfectly, drawing his eyes to the swell of your breasts every time you leaned over. He felt his body grow hot, his thoughts dancing on the edge of decency until your voice snapped him out of it. “Sylus?”

His stare was almost blank. “Yes sweetie?” He responded, trying to steady himself, though his mind was anything but. For a moment, he had forgotten what you even said, too distracted by the sight in front of him, of you in his shirt and out of your pants. “I was asking if a movie night was okay with you?” you repeated, leaning in with those knowingly pleading eyes that could unravel him in an instant. How could he possibly say no to that?

“Of course. It’s more than alright with me sweetie.”  His opens his arm to you, an invitation that you eagerly you accept as he reached for the remote on the table out in front of him. With his arm now wrapped around you, settling naturally against your side, his fingers idly caressing your skin as you both now turned your attention to the screen.

Except Sylus couldn’t focus. 

It was only about 30 minutes into the movie, his hands began to wander. Fingertips delicately grazing over your skin. His eyes flicked down catching a glimpse of your exposed skin, and finally he caved.

You were pinned beneath what you could call a hungry lion. He eagerly lapped at your skin as he sucked and bit the flesh, enjoying the dark marks that began to bloom. He was quick to have your folds sopping wet and dripping onto his fingers. Enjoying the way you squirmed and pawed at him, eyes glazed and filled with tears of pleasure.

“Sylus~” you mewled out. His fingers curl expertly, hitting that spongy spot inside you. You throw your head back into the plush of cushions, feeling yourself teeter on the brink of an orgasm.

“You’re doing so good for me, kitten.” He coos softly into your ear, feeling your walls clench around his thick digits. His other hand soothed you, gently caressing your hip as he worked you.

Before you could succumb to the tantalizing sensation, his movements halted. A frown was quick to appear on your features but the feeling of his cock sliding slowly into your folds had your dismay long forgotten, eyes rolling back into your head. “There she is~” he purrs, watching your face full of bliss.

Sylus loved the view beneath him. You, practically swimming in his shirt, with your legs folded to your chest, and his cock practically splitting you open while he pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. “Faster.” You managed to whine out but Sylus shook his head.

His hips rolled slowly against yours, dragging the head of his cock slowly against your aching walls till just the tip remained inside and slowly pushing back in, savoring every inch he could while he sunk inside you. The whine that left your lips almost made his self-restraint snap. “You look so beautiful like this.” He murmured, continuing his slow pace.

The movie served as mere background noise as he savored every inch of your skin, swallowing up the whines and moans that left your mouth. His only focus was you–your pleasure, every reaction, the tremble of your body. He eased the grip your thighs, letting them fall naturally at his side “So perfect.” His torturously slow pace continued for the next hour, bringing you closer to the edge, never once letting you fall. At this point you were a sobbing mess, begging desperately for your release. “Sylus please–” You choked out once more, voice laced with need and desperation as you writhed in his hold. He hushed you gently, his voice low and soothing, “I know baby, I know. But you’re doing so good for me.” Your pleading eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and flushed appearance snapped something inside him. He couldn’t deny you any longer, not when you had been so good for him. He groaned in surrender, hips snapping quickly against your own, finally, giving you what you craved. “Give it to me.”

[quantum1mmortality]

hihi! I saw your curly stuff, I love how you write him!! If it’s possible, nsfw headcanons for what turns him on? have a great day <3

Have I ever mentioned how much I love writing Curly? No? Well I am now. I love writing him. He's so awesome sauce, so boyfriend. My scrunkle

Tw/cw; lingerie, praise, mentions of masochism, accidentally almost wrote a one shot for the last one whoops lolololol, semi public sex IMPLIED

Not proofread

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

1; Lingerie

You guys can't look at me and tell me this man wouldn't go BALLISTIC for a nice set of lingerie. He makes good money at his job, good enough to be able to buy multiple sets of high quality, lacy lingerie for you to wear for him; then make you do a fashion show for him when you get them. Curly definitely comes off as a thigh guy, so he'd pick out all the sets with garter belts, specifically so he can slip his fingers under the seam and let go to see all that thigh movement. It actually drives him wild. Those sets can be pretty expensive, so hopefully he gets a raise soon since he's tearing apart every set he gets you.

2; Praise

I know it's overdone to say a character gets turned on by being praised but idc. This man has a praise kink and I will DIE on that hill. For anyone else, a praise to him wouldn't matter. He hears them constantly in his line of work, so at this point it's just noise. But from you? You like something about him? Oh no, he's hard. You could compliment him on the most mundane of things, say his uniform looks good on him and he's thinking about that the entire time he's at work. By the time he gets home, he's in genuine pain at how turned on he's been ALL DAY and not being able to help himself. He could, but he'd rather you do it. He's quite the masochist.

3; Titles

Imagine this; you're the wife of a well respected captain at Pony Express, and you decide to be a good wife and bring your beloved husband lunch. How sweet! You go to his department and call out to him, "Captain, I've brought lunch for you~" you giggle, drawing out his title. He looks up from.. whatever he was doing only to find you, holding a lunch box with a smile. Okay stop imagining, it's headcanon time.

Obviously the first thing he's going to do is thank you for lunch, he was famished. But after that, it's all blurry. It's like being with you has unlocked a bunch of new experiences for him, he never thought being called his title, the title he earned, would turn him on so much. It's like hearing it come from you was completely different from anyone else saying it. You ended up staying his entire lunch break and talking to him, only for your words to fall on deaf ears. He could barely even focus on what he was eating, let alone what you were telling him. Eventually he just had to excuse himself from the conversation, leaving you alone as he attempted, ATTEMPTED to satisfy himself. After a while he just gave up and went back out to where you were, told you the situation, and asked for your help. He was practically begging you, what were you supposed to do? Leave him there? No, you're a good wife. Of course you'd help him, right?

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

A/n; sometimes I forget I'm supposed to be writing hcs and accidentally lock in too much and go on little tangents. I'm suffering from success but it kind of fucks the vibe up ngl

[snowballseal]

hihiiii I adoreee your writing, it’s so good! genuinely so fun to read. if it’s not too much trouble, could I possibly request some sylus fluff?

maybe something along the lines of MC craving lots of affection/being a bit clingy towards him and just wanting to be near him after a while of being apart?

absolutely no rush or obligations if this doesn’t exactly pique your interest!! have a lovely day ❤️

Soft

Sylus X Reader (LaDS)

Summary: Just a little fic of you and Sylus reuniting after a while apart. You doesn't want to be apart from him and he obliges.

Word Count: 818

Note: Hi anon! I know this isn't super long, but I hope you like it! I love describing how soft Sylus can be for MC, and it felt like a cute, simple piece. I can write something longer if you'd like, just let me know!

---

“Sylus!”

The man lets out a low chuckle as you practically throw yourself at him. He catches you with practiced ease, arms wrapping securely around your waist as he spins you around. It’s like one of those cheesy romance flicks, other travelers rushing around you to greet their own waiting families, a bubbly yet tired kind of mirth warming the frigid, fall air.

It had been a month since you’d seen Sylus. A long, grueling, horrible month. While you love your job, you hate the extended training camps you have to attend every few years. Always in the middle of nowhere. Always with limited contact with the outside world. Limited contact with Sylus.

You don’t know how many nights you spent staring at the blank walls of your tiny dorm room, sleep nowhere to be found when all you could think about was how much you missed his touch, his warmth, him. It was like being terribly homesick, and all you wanted was to be back in his arms.

And now you are.

Even when your feet touch the ground again, you don’t want to let go. And neither does Sylus. His arms stay curled around your waist, face tucked against your hair as he pulls you impossibly closer, just breathing you in. You all but melt into his warmth, nuzzling against his chest with a happy, content noise.

“My, my, it seems my little kitten missed me,” he murmurs, low and teasing against your ear. You can practically hear the smirk curling his lips.

“Can you blame me?” You draw back a fraction to pout up at him. Those vermillion eyes glint down at you with a smug amusement, but you don’t mind fanning his ego a little right now. “We barely even got the chance to talk on the phone. It was awful and cold and exhausting. I don’t know why they wanted us training in the north, we were all just a bunch of sad popsicles.”

“Mm, sounds quite tragic,” Sylus hums, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. Your theatrics are endearing, and who is he to not play along? Hands tracing slowly up and down your waist, Sylus gives you a look of teasing sympathy, “Poor kitten. Perhaps I should take you home and find a way to warm you up, hm?”

Home. God, you love the sound of that. You’re home. With him. The thought fills your chest with a fluttering sort of excitement.

“Home sounds perfect,” you sigh, nuzzling back into him with an absolutely giddy smile. “Just, don’t let me go, mkay?”

The man softens and for a moment, he’s not Sylus the leader of Onychinus. He’s just Sylus. Your Sylus.

You make him different. You turn him into something soft, something tender, with your love. Like a balm soothing his sharp edges, his harsh nature. He never thought himself capable of such gentleness until he held you, until he felt the plushness of your body in his hands. Even though you are one of Linkon’s most capable hunters, something in him desires to treat you like porcelain, something otherwise vicious and bloody. Like a feral dog, licking your chin, body curved to be small and nonthreatening despite the sharpness of its fangs pressed against your skin.

And you never once flinched. Never once pulled away from his hands, even when his grip would edge on painful, even when his teeth would sink into your skin with a sinful need to possess something so soft, so sweet.

Though, he’ll play nice tonight, seeing as your body curls so tiredly into his, practically all your weight in his arms.

“Alright, sweetie,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I accept your conditions. You won’t have to worry about anything tonight, I’ll take good care of you.”

You hum your approval, though it sounds more like a purr. A smirk dancing across his lips, Sylus leans down and curls an arm under you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. He grabs your bag with his other hand, and starts back towards his motorcycle.

You forget all about the cold that night. Even the soreness in your muscles seems to fade away as you lay curled against Sylus’ side on his couch, a large, fluffy blanket thrown over the both of you, some movie humming quietly in the background.

And Sylus keeps his word. Not once does he let you go. Even when you start to yawn, eyelids heavy with sleep, Sylus simply lays out across the couch and drags you over his body, until you can stretch out like a cat over his chest. He keeps an arm locked around your waist, making sure you won’t fall as you finally, finally give in to the sleep your body so desperately needs.

It’s perfect.

He’s perfect.

And you hope you never have to go on another blasted training mission again.

---

I'll be real, I think my personal headcannon is that Sylus is like a feral yet loyal dog. I use the comparison a lot, I feel. Like, he can be vicious and wild, but he'd bow for you, he'd get himself killed for you (if he could lol). He would have a loyalty so unwavering, and that's terrifying in a way. But also? Kinda sexy 👀

[astralnymphh]

i wanna ride ellie’s little nose :((

hearing her soft whimpers as I fuck her nose up

note: alright, since this little post i made sparked up some conversation, i will tap some actual content out of it! mdni. college au. loser!ellie. join the discord! | kofi

𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬: 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐞

ellie isn't so practiced to being in this position; her heart is fucking pounding. not a lithe beat, or a pitter-pattering across the flesh—you can feel it through your thighs curled around her arms. you can see it in her blown eyes, trembling, and thickened with those pupils staring up at you. the indents of her fingertips sharpening into your legs, tattooed wrist constricted—restless. she hates this little interlude you subject her to. you're fondling her fragile trigger when you're sat a mere inch above her pretty lips, wet and glistening; who could blame her for getting so riled up?

impatience drags her fingers over your ass. it gets gripped gently. “thought you weren't being serious,” she states through a laugh—a breathless one. “but, i should know better, right?” her laughs hit that damned sweet spot in you that gets you going.

you tug a couple more out with a tip-tap on that precious nose. “mhm.” and then, those fingers end their frolic in her hair, forming a firm grip. it tugs a different sound out of her. a captured whimper. she is starving, and cannot mouth an actual word to soothe or substantiate it. ellie—two steps ahead of her motions—is already thinking about her lips on your cunt.

you position your slit on her available tongue, and she moans like she met heaven. a long, loose-lipped moan of satisfaction. something of a curving, “mmhhh..” and a brow-pull to go along with it; your scent, taste, and pushing of her face into your grinding hips hit all the right wires. now, she cannot let go. you shift your hip one route, and she follows with hungered licks. groping her breasts, you encourage that wanton behaviour.

“good fuckin girl, el.”

she gives your ass a delicate slap in admission. subconscious admission.

all that movement creates a cathedral of pornographics sounds. ellie, whoring her face out for you, lets nothing go to waste past her chin. she bobs her head, attempting to steal more laps of you, but ends up with the head of her nose prodding your clit each time. it sends a coiling through your pelvis, agreements up your throat, “fuck—such a pretty little nose your parents gave you..” and gives you the idea to continue. “you like it when i fuck it, huh?” fucking the tip of it, until it folds up and pre-cum begins to line it. inside, outside. it's perfect position is a practical beg for you to spread your legs and sit on it. ride it like she doesn't know what she's doing (which—contrary to what bigots in her college circulate online—she knows how to fuckin' eat pussy; don't get her wrong.) she knows now—she won't be able to rid it from her mind for weeks; the poor girl has to dangle from memories considering how little she sees you. what, with astrophysics and all? it's pitiful enough watching her touch herself to it—touch herself to the feeling of eating you out.

you chew your resting lip and almost draw blood noticing: the bulge of a free hand in her jeans, gentle touching below the seam. then, on it comes. the repeated whining—moaning like she's the one getting fucked. all it takes is for you to tilt her head, tug her eyes out from under you—and it blows out. the sight of her red, fucked-out, rubbed-against and wet face makes you cum.

how could it not?

“that was.. actually pretty hot,” ellie would blurt, after it had happened. after she had tugged herself enough to cum. regardless, she still had a couple laughs left in her system, and urged against her ribs to get them out while the patron of her affection was still in her presence—still on her doorstep. she would rather you be more than just a hookup. “i'm so fuckin' stupid about you, it's a little embarassing.” the door frame quietly settled with her leaning on it. “uh, you free tomorrow?”

[flawseer]

Became curious based on a Smaugust piece: What are your thoughts on everyone's favorite royal suck-up, Pike? (also ofc compliments to your writing and art)

Surprise, I am still kicking. And thus my Sisyphean quest to answer all the questions in my inbox continues.

I like Pike. I used to think moderately favorably of him, but pondering this question and then drawing a bunch of pictures of and about him made me realize that, yeah, I am rather fond of him. He is funny and cute in the same way a small, yappy dog is.

I remember once talking to my partner about Pike and I asked: "Do you think the JMA staff has to deal with Pike constantly trying to sleep in the hallway in front of Anemone's room?" Only to then realize, upon re-reading the books, that this actually happens in canon. I was thrilled.

Most of the time when people ask me what I think of a character, they want to hear what my take on them is, so I'll get into that.

Background

I don't think a lot is known about Pike's life, outside him having been assigned as Anemone's (questionably) covert bodyguard. He is one of those background characters that fill out the student roster at JMA but don't get a lot of development, though he is one of the more lucky ones as he gets comparatively more lines and scenes than, say, Barracuda, or Garnet.

We don't ever hear about his home life or familial situation, but I think he comes from a common military family. Not a particularly prestigious one, but rather one of middling significance. I imagine one of his ancestors--like his great grandmother--once made it to captain and ever since the whole family has prided themselves on their military legacy and loyalty to the Seawing throne, even though nobody else really knows who they are.

Pike's parents are both bottom rung palace guards; trusted enough to be stationed vaguely near the seat of government over a remote outpost, but nothing more. As is tradition in their family, they signed up as soon as they were old enough to hold a trident. Pike was expected to follow in their footsteps, and so did the same. He is naturally eager to please, doesn't ask many questions, and knows how to follow orders, so he took to this life relatively well.

One thing immediately apparent when observing Pike is that he is very blunt, headstrong, and reckless. He is prone to self-injury and mishaps, routinely making a tail end of himself during exercises. One day, I imagine, he was out in the courtyard, practicing his combat maneuvers, when he somehow managed to trap himself underneath a training dummy in a humiliating way. Unbeknownst to him, the Queen and Princess were walking past a window overlooking this scene, and the latter happened to spot him.

Princess Anemone, starved for normal social contact due to being permanently leashed to her overbearing mother, immediately took a liking to the clumsy guard and wished to take Pike into her service. The Queen though, hated the idea. Anything she couldn't control with 100% certainty was not to be let near her only living daughter. She didn't even let her own sons approach the Princess for this very reason. So she refused.

But Anemone, sensing an opportunity to finally snatch a tiny mote of control over her own life, didn't relent. She would never overtly defy her mother, but pushed back against her in the most passively aggressive way she could muster. She WOULD have this one thing that was hers, no matter how many times she had to sigh wistfully or forget to eat.

Coral meanwhile still disliked the idea, but after some pondering figured this could work to her advantage. Granting her daughter this favor would make her grateful, and thus easier to keep in check. It was not like the boy would be able to do anything undesirable since she would always be there to watch anyway. And if he ever displeased her, a random guard was easier to dispose of without turning heads, than if she let Anemone play with one of her brothers.

So eventually, she acquiesced, and extracted Pike from the palace guard to assign him to her daughter's protection.

The news hit Pike's family like lightning. Suddenly, after decades of being nobodies with delusions of grandeur, the whole palace was paying genuine attention to them, and the new recruit who, overnight, got assigned to be the Princess' personal retainer. Pike's parents took him aside and impressed on him how important of a task this was. If he did his job well and kept the Princess content and safe, not only would the current Queen think favorably of all of them, but Anemone would remember his service and reward him once she took the throne herself. For his sake and theirs, this was an opportunity not to be squandered.

And thus, Pike shouldered this great responsibility suddenly thrust onto his wings and embraced being Anemone's personal servant and protector. Pushed forward by his sense of honor and loyalty, a desire not to disappoint his family, and the knowledge that, if he were to fail and lose the only heir, Queen Coral would surely kill him.

Day-to-day life

Pike takes his duty very seriously, both out of loyalty to his liege, and because of how much is at stake for him personally. I picture him getting up during the small hours each morning and beginning his daily exercise routine, to stay in shape for his job. His roommate Flame often wakes up to him noisily doing squats in the middle of the sleeping cave and yells at him. "Am I cursed to be tormented by a diminutive idiot Seawing wherever I go!??!" Pike is lucky that his other roommate, Bigtail, is a heavy sleeper. Otherwise the training session would likely be cut short, with Pike tied to the ceiling lamp.

After wrecking Flame's sleep, Pike usually seeks out Anemone and attempts to stay near her at all times. Initially this caused friction between him and the teachers, as he would often skip his own classes to attend Anemone's. He only stopped doing this when Tsunami made it clear skipping classes would get him sent home, and thus away from Anemone permanently.

As they spent time at the Academy, the Princess began to get better and better at giving Pike the slip whenever she got fed up with his overprotectiveness. He freaks out whenever she vanishes, which is often. To help manage his stress, the JMA staff make him attend regular seminars on inner peace and meditation hosted by Fatespeaker. He is not very good at it, but enjoys the exercises that involve listening to running water.

He began to mellow out for a bit after initial growing pains, until the History cave incident occurred. The bombing shook him back into the bodyguard mindset and he began sleeping in the hallway outside of Anemone's sleeping cave. It weirds out Ostrich whenever she has to climb over him. Attempts to get him to stop this have been unfruitful. The current policy seems to be to let him do this until things calm down and he stops on his own.

Anything else

I believe Pike may have a thing for Rainwings. He is generally hyper-aggressive and rude towards everyone he talks to, with two notable exceptions. One of them is Anemone, whom he is sworn to serve and keep safe. The other is Tamarin, whom he is uncharacteristically kind to. My personal impression is that he may have a bit of a crush on her, but keeps himself from pursuing it as to not upset Anemone.

To my knowledge, Pike never really interacts with Turtle. That is a shame, because I would like to know how they would get along. Pike may be greatly disappointed at Turtle's general un-regal-ness, but still begrudgingly respect him out of obligation. I can picture a scene where he berates Turtle for his demeanor, only for someone else to chime in with an affirmative "Yeah Turtle, you suck", upon which Pike turns around and starts ripping into them about disrespecting Seawing royalty.

Concerningly, Pike's future is very uncertain. He is actually in grave danger right now. If Queen Coral ever finds out that he allowed a murderous, seawing-hating ancient wizard to abduct Anemone, she will have some opinions on that. If Coral has one consistent character trait, it is homicidal vengefulness against anyone who fails to protect her children, regardless of circumstance, regardless even if the perpetrator IS one of her children. That means there is a very real chance she will recall Pike from Jade Mountain and try to tear him apart.

I don't think Anemone would allow this to happen, mind you. She has been privy to her mother dragging poor sods out to the plaza to rip their teeth out, enough to recognize the signs of it coming. If she suspected Pike's life was in danger, I believe she would prevent him from leaving.

For now though, he remains at Jade Mountain, doing the best he can with the responsibility he was dealt, acting as Princess Anemone's retainer. It is a difficult, stressful, at times thankless job, but he would not have it any other way.

"Honor, and duty."

[ssahotchnerr]

no but imagine pre-relationship aaron with fem!reader who can fall asleep anywhere & in the most uncomfortable positions known to mankind 💀 aaron is both terrified and amazed bcs how do you keep doing that 😧 but then every time he sees you like that he slowly & carefully arranges you in a more comfortable position 🥹🫶🏻 & the team gives him shit for it 💀

(luvie can I be 🪷 anon 🥹🫶🏻)

makeshift

omg stop i love that cw; fem!reader, bau family banter, pining aaron <333

falling asleep in a federal prison, may seem like a hard thing to do. surrounded by the worst of the worst, distant yells from the inmates floating down the hall, the mere location itself. but apparently, not for you.

the facility was currently on lockdown, meaning no one was going in or out, and therefore you were stuck overnight. as a result, the warden offered one of the locker rooms to be strictly the bau's 'break room', so to speak.

after his last, rather unpleasant interview of the evening, aaron was hellbent on a fresh, but not very good, cup of coffee. as he pushed the door open and entered, his focus diverted straight to you.

you were laid across a steel bench - eyes closed, hands clasped over your stomach, absolutely gone to the world. however, if you moved an inch - or probably less - would you completely topple onto the hard floor.

"you're kidding." aaron deadpanned as he looked at you in pure astonishment, coffee long forgotten.

"she's been like that for thirty minutes now." jj commented from where she was leant against one of the sets of lockers, head bent down as she scrolled through her phone. "but are we surprised?"

"nah," derek snorted lightly. "but hey, better than the floor."

"tell me about it." a low grumble came from reid, somewhere.

aaron's face pulled into one of discomfort, his brows drawing into a line above his eyes. the surface you were asleep on, had to be cold, for starters, by nature of the material and the a/c was still kicking in high gear despite the cooler temperature outside. the flat metal had to be highly uncomfortable, no cushion underneath you at all, most likely digging into your shoulder blades. you'd inevitably be waking up to an angry back, which aaron knew from experience - from past events where you miraculously drifted off in questionable positions.

eager to lessen the outcome, aaron shrugged his suit jacket off his shoulders. he balled it up, situating it snug under his arm.

next, he crouched beside you, cradling your head in his hand as he lifted it gently. at the movement, you stirred, a small noise escaping you and aaron froze, waiting for you to settle back down before resuming his actions. part of him feared his current, drumming heart would somehow rouse you more.

but once you had, he slid his jacket underneath your head - a makeshift pillow. it wasn't much, but it would at least alleviate some of the pressure collecting in your neck, and you wouldn't be as sore when you awoke. the next thing he had to figure out, something to lay on the ground, on either side of you, to soften the fall in case you were to-

"that's real cute hotch." derek grinned, grabbing aaron from his thoughts. "when you make up my bed next, can you add one of those pillow chocolates? thanks."

"funny."

aaron stole a glance at you, a calmness brushing over him and the ends of his lips daring to tug upwards into a smile. he couldn't help himself - sure, he wished you weren't fast asleep on a bench that could cause potential harm if you budged, but it didn't hide the fact that you were, well, you.

his hopeful, hidden attempt didn't go unnoticed by one person though, who naturally had to open their big mouth.

"that's nothing compared to that case in montana," aaron shot dave a pointed look to quit it, but only got a wink in return. "hotch practically carried-"

"dave."

"aaron." dave quipped back, an eyebrow quirked high in amusement, but fell silent. although, his witty expression didn't falter, as if he were noting to aaron that it wouldn't be difficult at all to be persuaded to continue.

"whoa whoa there, rossi," morgan straightened his posture, a hand out. "go on."

[silly-honeybee]

i love reading ur silly little headcanons ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) what do u think the arcane characters wuld give u for ur bday •ᴗ•

The best birthday!

(GIF by me!)

🐝 ~ Awh tysmm!! So glad you like my writing :3 I was stumped with a lot of characters for this one, so I only did 5, I hope that’s ok!<3

Fic includes: What the female cast of arcane would get you for your birthday<3

Warnings: none, but def a lil favoritism on Maddie’s :3

Genre: fluff (modern!au)

Characters: Vi, Maddie, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika

♡ ~ Fem!reader - she/her prns used for r - wlw

Vi

✧.* She would get you something super special along with something silly.

✧.* Vi doesn’t like getting too sappy about things, but she’ll put her heart and soul into her gift.

✧.* On your special day, she hands you a poorly wrapped gift with a small doodle of the two of you holding hands.

✧.* She isn’t the best at gift wrapping, but she tired her best to make it look nice- Even put a little bow on top<3

You hold the box in your hands, a look of excitement present on your face as you carefully open the gift. You find a cute bundle of some of your favorite things, things she knew meant a lot to you- Even one of those cute heart locket necklaces with one of your favorite photos together. Just as you were gonna gush about how thankful you were for the gift, you notice one last thing.

With steady hands, you move the other items out to reveal a bear stuffy with Vi’s face plastered on it. A look of surprise and amusement comes to your face while holding the little bear. Vi’s loud laughter could be heard soon after, nudging you affectionately and flashing you a bright smile.

“So… do you like it?”

-

Maddie Nolan

✧.* Maddie is nervous that you wouldn’t like her gift. She made sure everything was as perfect as can be, anything for her love!

✧.* She’ll go around to her friends asking for their opinions on what she had made for you. “Do ye think she’ll like it? I hope it’s good enough- I just want her to be happy, ye ken?”

✧.* The girl cares for you so deeply. She’s excited for your birthday in general, practically a bomb waiting to explode from excitement.

✧.* She also pours all of her love into a sweet card for you, and of course an adorable drawing of your favorite animal on the front of it.

“Awh… Maddie, can’t believe you made all this for me- I love it so much!”

Maddie smiles, her hand scratching at the back of her neck bashfully- she was so happy you liked it. Your voice was like music to her ears, she could watch you open gifts all day. The way your eyes crinkle when smiling, your cute smile lines-

“Mads, you ok?”

The girl snapped out of her thoughts as she heard your voice, you speaking to her directly. Maddie nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

“Y-yeah! ‘M fine, I’m glad ye like it. Does it fit?”

You look at yourself in the mirror, wearing the shirt and hair accessory that Maddie had made for you. You had no idea that Maddie was so good at sewing, you were pleasantly surprised.

“It’s perfect.<3”

-

Caitlyn Kiramman

✧.* If you didn’t think that Caitlyn would know what you want for your birthday, think again.

✧.* She may be a bit awkward when actually giving you the gift, but really- She’s so excited to see your reaction.

✧.* Be prepared to be flabbergasted with the most well written card you probably have ever read- Ever.

Caitlyn smiles as she watches you read her card. The look on your face was to die for, you were clearly touched by Caitlyn’s passionate writing.

“Thank you so much, Cait..”

The soft murmur of your voice reached Caitlyn’s ears, she smile growing as she glanced away, trying to not show how affected by you she truly is.

“I’m glad you like it, I did get it in your favorite color, right?”

“Yes, you did- Don’t worry, silly.”

You spoke reassuringly to your girlfriend as you went to sit beside her, holding the pair of headphones in your favorite color.

-

Jinx

✧.* Homemade!

✧.* Her whole gift is homemade, everything wrapped in a colorful blanket that has a cute design painted on it… Just for you<3

✧.* Oh yeah, there is definitely glitter in that thing.

“Tadaaaa~! Whatcha think, toots?”

Jinx spoke in a cheerful manner, looking at you excitedly- Waiting for a reaction.

You sat there covered in glitter, a dumbfounded expression on your face… The initial shock of glitter getting all over you eventually fades into a smile.

“I love it, Jinx. You’re so talented~”

You say affectionately, giving a soft kiss to Jinx’s cheek.

-

Sevika

✧.* Like Caitlyn, she’s a little awkward when giving gifts. Maybe even seeming a little too nonchalant.

✧.* But we both know on the inside, she’s over the moon happy to be able to celebrate your birthday.

“Sevika- this is so sweet, I had no idea you knew how to make paper roses~”

Sevika rolls her eyes at your teasing, leaning back on the couch with a small huff, her hand resting on your thigh affectionately. She had gotten you one of the Lego flower sets, a few paper roses and of course a small card. Whether you like Lego’s or not, it’s fun to build it with her.

“Wanna build the Legos now, or later?” (She won’t admit she’s kinda excited to build legos with you.)

Ty for reading! If you’re new here, check out my intro and masterlist if you’re interested <3 Requests are open!

Intro // Masterlist (links)

[gilverrwrites]

Some fluff with Bruce : him giving you his mothers pearls… ;) it could be a wedding gift or any other special occasion idk ❤️

Me? Writing fluff again? It's one of my favourite things to do but damn I do it so rarely! Warnings: None!

Standing at 6’2 and weighing easily 210 lbs, your husband-to-be isn’t exactly hard to miss, or so one might think. A lifetime of skulking around on rooftops, and blending into the shadows meant Bruce was very good at only being seen or heard when he wanted to be. You’ve long since come to terms with that fact, but in your bridal suite, moments before your wedding is not the time or place.

You tell him as much as soon as you notice his reflection in the vanity mirror. He’s imposing, even with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his charcoal suit, the very same one his father had worn decades ago to his own wedding, tailored somewhat to allow for Bruce’s abundance of muscles.

Blue eyes watch you intensely as you scarper behind the wicker folding screen, but you don’t miss how the wrinkles around his eyes scrunch up, amused, as he half-grins at your dramatic reaction. Bruce has never been a particular stickler for traditions or superstition, but for some reason, you’d expected this one to be a no-brainer.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s bad luck- “

“For the groom to see the bride on their wedding day, I know, I know, but I had to see you.” His voice grows louder with each silent step he takes until he’s standing directly in front of you. Less than a half-inch of woven wood acts as the only barrier to his line of sight.

“Well, you can’t!” You chide, your tone is light but firm.

“I…” He hesitates, unconsciously kicking his feet against the soft carpet, and tentatively you peek around the divider to watch as he considers his words. For all that he has done, the leading, the strategising, the saving the world over and over, Bruce has never been good at speaking from the heart. It’s another trait you’ve learned to love, it means that when he does, he really means it.

“Yes, Bruce?” Careful to expose as little of your attire as possible, you tilt your head around the screen to peek at him.

“I brought you something. Your something borrowed, or old. I don't know but it would mean the world to me if you would wear them. If you could, that is.” You watch as he draws his hands from his pockets, ever so carefully and composedly revealing a string of shining ivory pearls. They are not wrapped or boxed, too beautifully delicate and familiar to warrant any eccentricities. You’d seen them a million times before, but never would you have considered having them situated around your own neck. They were far too important to Bruce for that.

“Are those… your mothers?” He nods in reply, leaning closer as he stretches his open hand to you. Hesitantly, you meet his hand in the middle, ghosting your fingers across the smooth gemstones, too cautious to take them.  

“My parents, their legacy…” Bruce goes on, his voice is so deep, so close to your ear it almost makes you lightheaded. “For the longest time I thought Gotham was the only thing that could compare with regards to who or what I care about but then Dick came along, then Barbara and Jason, and so on. Before I’d even noticed it, I cared about so much. My heart was practically full.”

“Awh, you’re such a softie Bruce.” You tease. Dusky pink builds in his cheeks as he chuckles, smile growing when his eyes lock onto your own grin. Simultaneously, his free hand clasps over your own, pressing your bare hands into his mother’s necklace before he continues.

“Almost full.” He states. “There was just enough room left for you. The last piece. You complete me and I couldn’t possibly know what my parents would think about all this, of you, but I like to believe they would approve, that they would want this. Want what makes me happy.”

“And wearing these, what would make you happy?” You ask.

“Exceedingly.” He confirms.

“Then how could I say no.”

His breath hitches, eyes examining every inch of you appreciatively as you step out from behind the divider, as if he hadn’t already committed whatever view he’d caught of you in the mirror to memory. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, you don’t look too shabby yourself.” As you speak, you turn away from him, somewhat awkwardly with your hands still linked, until your back is to his chest. He gets the point quickly, unlinking your fingers and ghosting his strong, warm fingers over your shoulders before unclasping the pendant you’d planned to wear for the ceremony until a moment prior.

“Mrs Wayne.” You sigh quietly, watching through the vanity reflection in the corner as Bruce carefully readorns your neck. “Those are gonna be some big shoes to fill.”

“Not at all. Martha Wayne certainly was not the Wayne ideal when she married my father, and she never changed a thing about herself to fit in. Or so I’m told.” Bruce presses a soft kiss to the back of your head. “Keep being who you are. It’s what I want, and I know for certain it’s what she would have wanted too.”