#It can't just be there for decoration can it?

[hypnagogics]

You should definitely write for Vi bc oml she’s so fine 😮‍💨

DO U EVEN KNOW THE WAY IM TWEAKIN OVER HER like omfg. my poor moots getting bombarded with fucking piles of edits upon edits of her and my thirsty comments...yeah...i gotchu, you don't needa ask me twice ♡ tbh feel like this is one of the better short smutty thingies i've written, lol. it was really fun.

nsfw drabble—dom!vi + spit kink. originally i was gonna make this three smaller blurbs, but decided to just smash em all into one longer drabble situation. cw: praise, bossy vi, finger sucking (r! receiving), oral (v! receiving), vi bush mention RAHHHH, yapping... yk how it is by now. + 1.1k wc.

you were gazing up at her with watery eyes, kneeling by vi's seated form, trying your hardest to ignore the deafening ache between your thighs.

vi is loving, and she knows how to treat you well. she always provides you with tons of care and happiness, however—she also possesses a dirty side to her.

a bandaged hand swipes at the bottom of your chin, her thumb prodding at your pursed lips. there was a smirk playing on her scarred lips, her powder-blue eyes twinkling with pure lust at the scenario playing out before her.

“open.” she says roughly, and who are you to deny her? you were willing to take anything she'd give you, so you obediently part your lips, allowing her to fully push her digit inside your hot mouth.

almost instinctively, your puffy lips wrap around her thumb and you begin to suck, your eyes rolling ever so slightly at the taste of her salted skin. she hums, “atta girl—keep going. just like that, until i say you can stop, alright?” you open your eyes and nod in approval, wishing to commit her expression to memory.

see, vi wasn't one of those mean, degrading doms with an icy exterior who get off on hurting you an excessive amount, and in moments like this where she's got you in a position of submission under her, her natural “switchiness” peeks through. you see it in the way her throat bobs as she swallows, her unsteady, shallow breathing coming out in rasps, and the distinct furrow in her flaming brows while she struggles to maintain eye contact. regardless, you both enjoy toying around with various dynamics, she makes it fun.

you get lost in a daydream while staring into her eyes, but are startled out of it when she strongly presses down on your wet tongue, and pushes her thumb further inward until you gag.

it surprises you, but you know she would never overdo things. tears well up in your eyes, their presence only widening her voracious grin.

then she soothes, her now-soft voice caressing your ears, “exactly, just like that. good job, baby. you're so perfect f'me—yeahhh.” she continues rolling her thumb around your wet muscle, every so often dragging the pad of her finger over the ridges of your teeth, then pushing experimentally up against the roof of your mouth.

saliva has been gathering all this time, and she hasn't given you a moment to swallow it, so it dribbles out of your mouth and down your chin, decorating your chest as it slides down your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its path.

her face gets impossibly redder as she observes the sight, still while playing with—rather, using—your mouth. her movements speed up a touch, and she triggers your gag reflex once more before abruptly stopping. she pulls her hand out of your mouth with a pop, and throws her head back as she tries to steady her breathing. “you're so fuckin’ hot, god—i can't.”

you smile up at her, reveling in her break of character and being pleased with yourself. she's panting, and examines her hand; it's shiny and dripping with your spit, she's mesmerized by the sparkle it emits in the low light. her periwinkle eyes gloss over and suddenly there's a flash of fabric flying by, and you realize she has undressed herself in one fluid motion, throwing everything on her bottom half across the room. she’s so desperate, you can’t help but sneer at her horny distress, even though technically you were the one being overpowered.

your eyes drop, meeting a wild tangle of vermillion and crimson, her muscular thighs separating east and west to make space for you.

she leans back and gently nudges your head towards her tender, drooling core, her chest heaving at the way you're just melting under her touch. turning to jelly, you let her guide you where she wants. needs.

vi groans quietly, her breath hitching, “c'mon angel, you know what to do.” and you very much did. with her assistance, you advance and bury your face in her center, tongue finding her scarlet pearl—twitching and ready for you to obliterate.

you flick, you suck, and you moan at the heavenly taste of her essence, revel in the noises she's producing above you. she pulls you further in, bucking her hips frantically to chase your skilled mouth. you push your tongue inside her quivering hole as far as it'll go, taking as much of her in your mouth as you can, and ignoring the lack of oxygen you're experiencing—you would be more than pleased if you were lucky enough to die this way.

she's watching you intently through half-lidded eyes, chewing on her rosy lips. when you meet her gaze from in between her legs, her face contorts and she releases a guttural whine, more slick leaking from her and filling your hard-at-work mouth.

her grip on your hair tightens and her abs tense, providing you with an image that's worthy of a climax just on its own. her head falls back, her lips parting to allow for pretty, high pitched and pathetic pleas to grace your ears. “ple—please baby, just like that. you're so fuckin' good, don't you dare stop—ah!”

without any warning she makes a vulgar mess of your face, the vice grip on your crown causing you to wince, but just as she requests, you don't dare move.

you tilt your head to get a better angle, practically making out with her swollen pussy. you drink up her cum, the near-sickly sweetness clouding your mind, coating your thoughts in a drunken haze.

the high is rippling through her at such an intensity her loud moans are replaced with pornographic whimpers, the sensations utterly ruining her. she squirms and arches, caging your head between her thighs until she gasps.

"hah—okay, okay, oh—fuck.” she stutters while she pushes you away, the tremor in her body evident. you sit back and examine your work, feeling proud of yourself, her fucked-out condition proving you did a good job.

she's sprawled on the bed like a starfish, still trying to slow her racing heart but manages to chuckle, basking in the aftershocks of a mind-melting session.

her words are slurred, yet satisfied. “did so good, that was so good…love your mouth s'much babe.”

you guffaw, and throw at her through chuckles, “i know, i am the best.” that sends her into a fit of giggles as well, and once she's calmed down she confirms.

“yeah, you really are.”

thanks for reading! comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know ♡ if you'd like to be tagged in future works, fill out the form here! until next time ;)

@andersonfilms @ch6douin @aouiaa @sapphic-ovaries @astro-cat2 @paqerings @littlefallenangel111 @srooch @sinfulprayerss @lvlymicha @sunnsh1ne @pinkcwake @marsworlddd @caszzine @saturnsdrafts @mascdom @ashaynep @angelynn-nicole @wilddrown @aylabv02108 @lonelyfooryouonly @melsmunch @e11williamsgf @spncrrdlvr @flowrmoth

[simonriley09]

oh my god I've been thinking about sweet!readerxGhost alll day. basically where reader is super giddy about everything and Simon loves it, every holiday she's practically bouncing off the walls with excitement except for Christmas. And it really freaks Simon out because she hates Christmas. So obviously their first Christmas together, he's losing his shit trying to figure out what her problem with Christmas is, and he can't. idk if that made sense or if it's too early, but it's literally been my Roman empire for like three days.

LMFAOOO I LOVE THIS ASK. Sweet!Reader is so giddy when it's holidays like Easter, Thanksgiving and stuff. It makes Simon smile under his mask. BUT WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES AROUND?! he's internally panicking.

You haven't decorated, there's nothing in your Wishlist on amazon, temu or Etsy. You refuse to go outside, and when you lock yourself in YOUR shared bedroom? Now he's panicking in real life... asking his team members what could be the problem, random grannies in the coffee shop over tea and even his local BARTENDER. They all don't know though... they just tell him to go ask you. So when he finally came over to you he's just staring at you, trying to figure out what to say. "Why do you hate Christmas." He blurts out, internally slapping himself for his bluntness. "It's cold. :(" You reply, whining. "Plus Christmas trees are so expensive!" He calms down after that. "It's cold? and you can't afford the tree...?" He asks in slight disbelief. "Bird, isn't that what i'm for? I'm warm plus i can afford the tree." You go silent, realizing how stupid you sound now. You can just reply with a... "Oh." Before Simon bursts out laughing, walking away to go buy the Christmas tree for you.

[Repost if u want sweetie! <3]

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König at Parent Teacher Conferences

König is normally pretty used to intimidating people and putting those around him on edge. He tends to wear a balaclava in public to hide his heavy scarring, but he wonders how useful this is because it seems to make people just as worried. At the very least, they only seem to stare because of his height, not his face.

Unfortunately, there are some places where wearing a balaclava is inappropriate, and so he has to take it off. He usually knows the places, but one place he wasn't prepared to take off his mask was in front of his son's teacher.

Mrs. Coetzee's a good teacher, all things considered. She's not perfect, but she encourages his eldest son's interests and is always happy to provide plenty of updates to home. In all honesty, König thinks you should've gone to the parent-teacher conference and not him, but you insisted that you meet the old South African woman, telling him that Mrs. Coetzee was nice and friendly. You hadn't thought about the mask issue until he'd left, and by then you figured König could manage on his own.

When König first entered the room, Mrs. Coetzee had been stunned. She knew his kids were big, so she expected a larger father but she wasn't quite prepared for König having to duck under the door frame. In fact, she wasn't prepared for someone of his size at all. Her entire room was built for smaller children, not for giant military men. She was genuinely worried he'd break the chair he sat on when they sat across from each other.

König looked so out of place it was comical. If Mrs. Coetzee weren't so caught off guard she might have laughed herself. She wasn't laughing when König finally took off his mask.

She was obviously not prepared for König's face.

Mrs. Coetzee has met many people from all different backgrounds. She's used to seeing all sorts of people. She still struggles sometimes to place her students' faces to their parents'. With König, she feels like she's seeing a horrific future version of the young son. It's terrifying to see König's son all grown up with horrific war scars decorating his face. For a moment, Mrs. Coetzee can't help but stare in horror. She's not thinking that König looks ugly, she just can't help but think that this grizzled man was once an innocent little boy.

Mrs. Coetzee quickly clears her throat and goes through all the questions, but König is notably laconic. He's difficult to read. She's used to children being open and friendly, nothing like this veteran. She heard that König had been in the military, but nothing prepared her for this.

As the interview goes on, König gets notably more nervous. He tries to pay attention to what the little teacher is saying, but he can't help but notice her staring. He feels horrible about it. There's nothing he can do but endure, endure, endure. He just wants this over with, but she keeps asking more and more questions and he feels his resolve slowly breaking.

Once they're finally over, Mrs. Coetzee guides him to the door and waves him off with warm goodbyes. Mr. Leichenberg is certainly no conversationalist, but he's friendly enough to get by.

Once König is long gone, Mrs. Coetzee goes and takes a seat at her desk and hangs her head in her hands. Suddenly, all the stories of the young Leichenberg's father being a monster make so much more sense.

[gojoswhitebabydolllashes]

Girl, your stories are so GOOD! I love reading your fics. I just saw you may be taking fics for Jayce or Viktor. Is there any way I could request a Jayce x Viktor x Reader fic where the reader is very naturing, cuddly, and gentle with both of them, but maybe she hides all her stress and struggles cause she deems theirs more important? Like, she always knows when they want coffee, how they each take it, covers them up when the lab is cold or they pass out at the desk, rubs their shoulders when she sees them shrug too much, just very attentive. Yet, she’s not a scientist and thinks that being stressed over literature projects and teaching is ridiculous cause it’s not as difficult or as important (in her mind) as hextech. So she just ignores her needs until these two notice.

I’m so sorry if that is too much! I hope you enjoy the third act when it comes out. Thank you so much for reading this! 🩶

OH ABSOLUTELY I CAN DO THIS. 😭😭 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND LIKING MY STORIES IT MEANS SO MUCH.

--fem reader. Fluff. Small sad. Angst if you squint. Cute throuple time.

--

The laboratory is cold, and the rain that batters piltover decorates the window like glass tears. Your eyes droop tiredly as you watched viktor twist the cogs in the next hextech project and listen to the sound of slow puffs of steam every few minutes that came from brass pipes on the walls.

Jayce is unmoving as he sits at his own desk, sorting through two stacks of papers. You hate it, hate watching them so vulnerable and so tired. Both are so hard-working and loyal to their studies.

"Allow me to help you both," you spoke as you stood up.

Reaching for two soft blue blankets stored in the corner, you walked firstly to jayce and draped the blanket across his shoulders and gave his cheek a soft kiss.

"I can't have my boys going cold now, can I?"

You spoke as you walked to viktor to drape a blanket across his much more lean shoulders, kissing his cheek, too. Viktor looked up at you and smiled tiredly.

"Thank you, my love." it never failed to make your heart flutter hearing viktor call you that, especially when his accent made it so smooth and endearing.

"Are you staying with us tonight?" Jayce spun in his chair, leaning an arm on his knee.

"I um" you cleared your throat.

The truth was, you had things to do. Your own assignments and activities to tend to. But viktor and jayce's eyes were gleaming deep brown in the dim laboratory light and so often you found yourself missing them when they would make you go to bed without them because they were afraid you would pass out after spending so long with them doing work.

"I have no where to be"

Paperwork

Documents

Assignments

Blueprints

Papers

Papers papers pap-

"No," you shook your head. "I have nowhere to be"

You smiled as you walked over to stand by the window, viktor and jayce came to stand on either side of you. The rain still pounded the glass, crystal city and enforcers were hounded the soaking streets each night, like a herd of elephants stampeding with metal boots.

"You need not worry about what's happening down there." Jayce put his hand on your shoulder.

Viktor turned his head to you. "It is not our worry, my love" he spoke ever so softly.

You pressed your lips together into a thin line, as you thought over so much.

"You both must be hungry," you stated.

You stepped away from them both before you walked over to the door. You would make them cups of hot tea and nice warm soup. bread and butter.

"Stop right there, doll" Jayce spoke loudly.

You froze and turned around to see jayce holding up your textbook. You gasped and realised they had indeed caught you.

"When were you going to tell us you had assignments to do?" Jayce asked.

Viktor turned around to face you, his head tilted. You looked at the ground defeated before them, and began to cry.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you both. I was so entranced with helping you with your dreams that I forgot about my own, " you frowned and sighed.

The two of them walked over to you and hugged you tightly. If they had known you were in such troubles, they would have chained you to the table and glued a pencil in your hand.

"I love you both so much, and I'm so sorry that kept it from you." .You looked at them with gentle and sorrowful eyes.

"You need not be sorry. But It's time to start taking care of yourself, my love. " viktor held you close to him

You nodded, making them both smile admiringly.

"We love you, pretty girl"

You gave them both soft kisses to their lips and smiled. "You know I'm still going to take care of you both"

They were your boys. And even if you were working every day and night on your own papers, you would find ways to still make sure they had their breakfast lunch and dinner and were always hydrated and healthy. You loved them both dearly and they too loved you too.

"If I find out you aren't focusing on yourself, I'll take back my promise to buy cupcakes" Viktor spoke.

Not only did you gasp. But beside you, the man of progress did too.

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'birthday cake' - logan howlett x wade wilson

summary: logan buys wade a cake for his birthday and tries to convince himself it doesn't mean anything. (900 words) tags: kinda fluffy, kinda angsty, set a year after the movie, references to losing the x-men, feelings realisation, animal metaphors for logan, cussing, logan x wade. a/n: happy birthday deadpool!

birthdays. running a calloused hand across his stubbled jaw, logan eyes the cakes in the bakery aisle with disgust. when's the last time he celebrated a birthday? not since. . .

well.

not since.

he's not sure why he's here. except he is. yet he won't admit it. can't admit he gives a damn about that stupid red leather-wearing freak. isn't that what he's doing right now, though? a birthday cake, an admission of sorts?

logan grumbles, a deep rumble in the back of his throat. why was this so hard? why couldn't he just pick up a cake and go? or better yet, forget about this whole damn thing and go home?

home.

a word that still feels so foreign in his mind, a long-lost concept that's only recently begun to take root again despite his best efforts to weed it out. that's the thing with wade, he's persistent. fuck, he's extremely fucking persistent to a highly annoying degree. but it's funny how the things we want to deny the most are the things that turn out to be the best for us in the end.

there's a unicorn cake that catches his eye. an imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of logan's lips, a reluctant grin quirking up without permission. he can't help it. "god damn it," he mutters, letting out a soft exhale that could possibly be perceived as a laugh.

it isn't too late. he could back out now, snuff the candles out and toss the cake so hard into the garbage can that it explodes on impact, leaving no evidence behind. that'd probably be the best thing to do. because what the fuck was this?

the unicorn cake sits on the dining room table, a few candles placed carefully (yet still somehow messily) into the pink icing, thoughtfully avoiding the unicorn decorations and rainbows.

logan shuffles nervously on his feet, hands clasped behind his back. he can already hear wade's annoying squealing in his ear, fussing and yelling and talking and just always fucking talking.

he'd made a deliberate effort to ignore all of wade's incessant reminders, 'it's my birthday month peanut, gotta be nice to me', 'i made sure to cancel everything on your very empty calendar for my birthday'. but in reality, logan had it memorised from the moment he learned the date.

a key enters the door, and logan stiffens up, then forces himself to relax in an attempt to look nonchalant. he looks anything but, head tilted down with dark eyes glued to the door - watching, waiting, anticipating.

"holy fuck balls that traffic is ridiculous!" wade whines, closing the door and rolling his neck as though he'd been worked to the bone, "i swear, it's like none of those careless fuckers know it's my birthday - can you believe that? i was thinking about getting a tattoo, the date on my forehead, y'know, so that when anyone asks they-"

wade stops, finally looking into the open room, eyes landing on the flicker of the candles. then to logan, eyes softening. "you. . . got me a cake?" wade whispers in the softest tone logan's ever heard from him, voice thick with emotion. it hits him unexpectedly.

logan puffs his chest out, "don't make a big deal outta it, bub." he says firmly, eyes straying from wade's gaze. feels like his eyes are boring into him, he doesn't like it. doesn't like the way wade looks at him, really looks at him. that kinda look is dangerous, could make a man believe he deserves to be forgiven for all he did or didn't do. could make a man believe that he's allowed happiness, however strange or unusual that source of happiness may be.

when logan's eyes trail back to meet wade's, he's already in front of him, arms wrapping around him in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against his broad chest. logan huffs, making a sound of disapproval initially, yet makes no effort to move or push him away. instead, he settles, allowing it.

he knows wade must hear his heartbeat, the fact that it's fluttering in his chest. but wade only squeezes his arms around him tighter in response.

for once, the merc with a mouth is silent, basking in this moment the other has allowed. he's almost in disbelief. to some, and hell, maybe even logan himself, it looked like. . . well, just a cake.

but it symbolised so much more than that.

if wade has had his hand outstretched all this time, approaching the skittish animal threatening to lash out in learned survival instincts - then this is the gentle nudge from the animal's snout into his palm. a curious, tentative step forward. a willingness to let someone in, let someone help.

and god, wade won't mess this up, won't disappoint, despite the fact that it's all he thought he was good for, for a long ass time. if logan's taught him anything, it's that life is so much more than what you boil yourself down to. it's what others see in you, too.

wade's eyes pop open when he feels logan's firm hands hesitantly rest upon his back, giving a gentle pat. he bites his tongue, a mirage of sex jokes slinging through his filth-riddled mind. perhaps in a way, that was his own defense mechanism, push him away with just enough jokes to keep him guessing.

but not today.

because today logan bought him a cake. the same day that logan realised that he's hopelessly, ridiculously, disgustingly, annoyingly. . . in love.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

OMG I feel like we talk a lot about parental platonic yanderes how do you feel about child yanderes??? OMG Dellinger would be such a fun concept for that cause he's already insane and weird and he meets a fish person or mermaid or something who gives him actual support and just CLINGS HEY THIS ISY *PARENT* BACK OFFFFFF OOOH or maybe ASL in their younger years with some random adult who's like "what is up with these kids is anyone gonna parent these kids" and now they're locked in for life ughhh

Having a child be yandere towards you is such a moral dilemma because it's easy to tell a grown adult to fuck off, but it's a lot harder to look at a little kid vying for your attention and affection and do the same

In Dellinger's case, I can see Doflamingo really tapping into his celestial dragon roots and forcibly keeping a mermaid around purely for his entertainment. She's kept in a large aquarium to essentially sit there and look pretty until Doflamingo drags her out of it to amuse him directly. It's demeaning and hell on earth. The tank is open but purely to mock her. She could jump out and try to make a break for it, but she doesn't because she knows she would never even make it out of the room.

Enter Dellinger, who is a tot and gets excited when he sees the tank because as far as he's concerned, it's an indoor pool just for him. He happily dives into it, not even realizing that someone is already in there. The mermaid panic as soon as she feels the disturbance in the water, assuming that Doflamingo wants her again, only to get shocked by the sight of a toddler splashing around and exploring the decor of the tank.

She spies on him from a distance, then looks outside the tank to see if anyone else is in the room before cautiously approaching him. Even before she got close, she knew that he had to be at least part fishman since he wasn't drowning. Dellinger has never seen a mermaid before and is in complete awe. He's excitedly peppering her with questions and examining her tail with what is an extremely refreshing childlike innocence.

He becomes a frequent visitor for her, and it's honestly a welcome distraction from her situation. She talks with him about fishmen using the passing knowledge she has of them and answers any questions he has about his various fishman qualities that had previously been a big mystery to him. She plays with him and races him around the tank (and lets him win).

Dellinger gets attached, and he really latches onto the mermaid. There isn't a day that goes by where he isn't jumping into her tank to play and spend time with her. He becomes very possessive of her and hates to share her attention with anyone. If any of the other children try to interact with her, he'll straight up attack them. Doflamingo has to physically remove Dellinger if he wants to be alone with the mermaid, and even then, the kid will be having a temper tantrum of epic proportions because that's HIS mom, and he can't stand being separated from her.

I was going to talk about asl too but this became a Dellinger post oops

[citrustan]

Can't wait to see what happens with politician Namjoon 🫣

wait no more! here's the follow-up on all eyes on you (knj) (read it first bec the following drabble is a direct continuation)

all eyes on you (knj) 2.0 [final]

pairing: kim namjoon x reader

genre: angst!! smut, fluff, husband!namjoon x wife!reader, mayoral candidate!namjoon x housewife!reader. i imagine namjoon to be older, and taller than oc. (I use 'oc' and 'reader 'as interchangeable terms.)

warnings: talks of infidelity, insecurity, women being mean to each other (moments of weakness, it's just oc @ joohyun), namjoon being irritable and condescending. the slightest bit of a size kink.

The slipper flew through the air but missed, landing harmlessly at Joohyun's feet with a sad, flat thud.

Namjoon blinked in surprise. But the secretary’s face darkened, her expression showed a mixture of disbelief and offense, “Did you just-” - “Yes, I did!” You snapped, still fuming, "And I don’t care how you explain it. You know, I always got a vibe from you. Get your whore out of my house!"

Joohyun gasped angrily, "Hey!"

Namjoon stepped in between the two of you quickly with his hands raised in surrender because you were ten seconds away from pulling her hair out. “Alright, baby, let’s just calm down for a second.”

You're unable to tell if he's being serious or just nasty and sarcastic. Hell, you can't even tell if he's talking to you or her.

He shot Joohyun a look, silently telling her to leave, “You’re not helping. I told you so.”

Joohyun huffed and leaned towards him, muttering under her breath, “Namjoon, this is ridiculous.”

"I'll call you later, Joo." He reiterated sternly.

After a mini staring contest with him, she gave in.

You simply watched, stunned at their brassiness.

And what the hell were you even doing watching? You should've clocked the bitch when you had the chance.

Before she left, she threw one last glance at you, clearly annoyed at being caught in the crossfire, "Listen to him, _____." - "YOU'RE A SLUT!" Her footsteps sounded angrier after this.

Namjoon has the gall to shoot a scolding look at you. "_____..."

Wide-eyed, you stay glaring at her, stalking her figure up until her stupid shadow leaves your vision.

You're trying to make her head explode with your mind.

It doesn't work.

Once you hear the door shut, you redirect your attention to your husband.

The weight of the situation was clear in his eyes. And he looked... sincere. But that's just his face. You're looking for remorse or shame or even anger. But he's just eerily calm.

Namjoon sighs.

“I’m sorry. I know how this looks, but you have to believe me, _____. There’s a lot going on right now." He takes a step closer towards you, "Baby, I'm your husband."

For two seconds, you consider it.

But at the end of those two seconds, you completely disregard his words and turn away and dash to your self-designed and decorated guest bed.

Once he starts talking to you, you know you won't be mad anymore, instead you'd just feel sad and pathetic. Ever the diplomat, he has that kind of effect on you. And a thousand others. Hence his successful career.

But you digress.

Namjoon hurriedly follows behind and blocks the door with his foot before you could slam it in his face.

"_____, please! You can't possibly believe that I'd cheat on you?" Namjoon forces the door open wider, following you inside.

Namjoon’s eyes found yours. With desperation etched across his face, he sighs, “We need to talk." Holding up his hands in a placating gesture, “I promise I can explain everything.”

He reaches out to hold you.

But still hurt, you stubbornly move across the room, as far away as you can be from him at the moment. "No!"

“And explain what? How you’ve been sneaking around with her? I bet she loved making a fool out of me on national television...!” You cry, raising your voice despite the lump in your throat. "I don't want to know!"

"_____." Namjoon exasperated, "Sit down and let me talk."

The audacity of this man to speak to you in such a manner.

"No."

"Fine, don't sit, stand there and-" - "Was it or was it not you on those audios?" You interrupt, breaking his chain of thought.

"It was my voice..." He confirmed, cautious of where you're headed with this.

You could hear a 'but' incoming. So, you quickly continue, "And that bitch, Bae, the woman often referred to as your 'work wife', that was her too, yes?"

To which he pauses for a millisecond.

"_____, that 'bitch' is my employee and friend. And you will not refer to her as such." As the words fall out of his mouth, Namjoon realises he's self-sabotaging but he can't seem to help it, he's just so tired, "You can't possibly be stupid enough to believe this bullshit. Especially this close to the elections."

Is he seriously scolding you now?

Obviously taking offence to his accusatory tone, you take a step back, "Are you blaming me for believing something that was on the news? Namjoon, I HEARD YOU."

"You know what? I am." Namjoon's frustration had taken over.

Just like that, all of a sudden, you were under fire.

"You, out of all people, should've known that you can't believe anything anymore." He begins to loosen his tie. "Especially after that shit-show of an abortion scandal last year. Did you not see what it did to Mr. Jung's poll count?" He added.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?! Are you telling me they hired actors and..." You frantically searched looking in every direction, but struggled to find a word for it, settling for less, "...voice... impersonators (?) solely to fuck with your stupid poll?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you! This is character assassination, this will make me lose my spot!" He almost barks.

You don't know how to describe his voice, it was just... manly and rough and deep.

That's stupid!

You screech, "That's ridiculous!"

"I agree!" Namjoon is hopeful that you understand the situation now.

You shook your head. He can't turn this on YOU. You're a victim!

"No," you frown, "No, no, you're ridiculous! Don't try to make me feel stupid, Namjoon. They had photos! I know it was you in them!"

Namjoon pauses slowly pulling his blazer down his shoulders, stopping mid-way, and looks over at you incredulously, "Are you hearing yourself?"

"Don't do that. I hate it when you're condescending." You speak fast.

"_____. Obviously, I never said those things about you." He emphasised, still sounding somewhat condescending, "Joohyun never talked of you like that. We don't know where exactly it came from but we've already got a P.I. on it."

Then he adds, "And those photos are from a work dinner."

"Hold on," you extend your arm and point at him, "How long have you even known about this?"

"A few hours?" Namjoon sighs, "I don't know, baby, these things take time to diffuse. It'll take at least a week till we can..."

HOURS?

"Namjoon, you kept this from me for hours? You let me find out from fucking Channel 4 that-" - He cuts your rant off, "_____, hold on. I didn't think it'd get this far! I was going to tell you after we resolved this." He scoffs before adding, "And I was adviced against sharing anything with you, or anyone at all for that matter."

When had that ever stopped him from sharing stuff with you? Too many questions were pressing at you for you to linger on just that one issue.

You are always in the loop because you have remote access to his calendars. You know his schedule and routine so well that even if Joohyun happened to magically disappear overnight, Namjoon would not notice.

You involuntarily pout, "I also go to all your work dinners. When was this?"

"You didn't go to that one," Namjoon's rebuttal was immediate.

...

You try to think of an event you backed out of. Any event. But you couldn't.

Namjoon turns away from you and rids himself of his blazer, hoping you'd drop the topic. Praying you'd let it go.

He hadn't informed you about this particular occasion he happened to be sneakily photographed at, even though it was a private dinner. All work, of course. But he couldn't risk you finding out why you weren't invited.

Namjoon had received intel from his campaign team that a few influential attendees at the dinner, a few donors and political advisors, had a history of favoring traditional or picture-perfect 'power couples' in politics.

While they admired Namjoon as a candidate, some felt you didn’t fit the mold of an ideal 'First Lady' type of figure.

They had a tendency to compare you to Joohyun, who, in their eyes, seemed polished, professional, and better-suited to Namjoon’s political image.

Namjoon had already been dealing with subtle, unkind comments about you behind closed doors; remarks about your overly-affectionate behaviour in public, your care-free demeanor, your personal choices, and even your background.

Basically, you just weren't from Namjoon's world. No rich family to stand behind. No high-profile career to elevate your image in front of these bloodsuckers. People (thankfully, excluding his friends and family) have looked down on you the entire time you've been with Namjoon.

You're a sensitive woman. You have picked up on things like this. But Namjoon was not going to knowingly subject you to more of this absurdity which you most certainly do not deserve. You were somewhat insecure already.

That particular dinner posed a greater challenge for him. He knew these people might make comparisons openly, especially with Joohyun present. And they did. He had to bite his fist and let them ramble on about his private life. It was the closest he came to possibly losing his career.

It's silly, but this is really it. He just didn't want to bring you into a room full of vultures.

He simply didn't know how to brief you about it all.

Suddenly lessening the gap between the two of you, you stop right behind him and whisper, "Did you kiss her or something?"

Flabbergasted, he abruptly turns to face you and begins pulling at his tie, "No!? I did not do anything with her." How does your mind go to these places? (Well, he has Channel 4 to blame this time.)

"Why are you mad? I should be the only angry one here!" You childishly whine at him.

"But I am upset, _____! I'm angry because my wife thinks I'd cheat on her!"

"They were very convincing on the news!" You cry.

"And I'm telling you it's a lie."

"Fine!"

He sighs deeply, somewhat struggling to undo his tie.

You scoff. What a baby.

You gently smack his hand away. "Let me help you. You're like an overgrown toddler."

He stares into your eyes and you successfully dodge looking into his, focusing on successfully unwrapping his necktie instead.

"_____."

"What?" You furrow your brows.

"Please believe me." Namjoon firmly strokes your sides, pulling you closer.

You do. You know he's keeping things from you but you'll get to that later.

For now, you just want to get over the shock from the more recent events.

"Can they go to jail for spreading misinfo like this?" You wonder out loud.

Your husband smiles down at you, "The people who did it? Definately. We will also be suing the news outlets who ran this story now."

You gently pull his tie off, "Okay..."

"I really am sorry I didn't tell you about it first. We did not think it'd get this bad," Namjoon's smile crumbles, "And I can't imagine hearing about something like this from a stranger."

"I will never put you on the spot like this again, _____." He tucks your hair behind your ears. Your cheeks were begging to be kissed. And kiss he did.

"You better not. Namjoon, you will tell me every thing. Promise me you won't keep things from me."

"I promise, _____." Your husband places a chaste peck on your lips. It was an empty promise though. Namjoon underestimates how much you can handle. All the time.

If your own husband can't take you seriously, you doubt anyone else will. But again, that's a topic for another day.

Namjoon subtly clears his throat, "So... You're wearing those pearl panties?"

Coyly smiling, you push your head into his chest, "Yeah? How do you know that?" You giggle.

"Lucky guess?" His hand travelled down your back and caressed your butt.

He pulled back, grabbing your chin to make you look up at him, "Allow me to verify?"

With cheeks heating up, and goosebumps spread all over your body, you smile at him sweetly. "Joonie, you don't actually think I'll fuck you after everything you put me through, do you?"

"What?" Your husband almost whines, "It wasn't even my fault!" He wraps you in an embrace, almost squeezing your body against his own larger one.

"I'd sue you for emotional damage if it weren't for the fact that you're my husband." You frown, pushing him off of you.

But he clings on to you, "You're joking!"

"Am I?" You retort. "And you're still sleeping in the guest bed, husband."

Finally getting him off you, you escape to your own room.

You can hear his cranky whining echo through the whole house. It's cute.

It had to be done though. You knew you would not have been able to keep your hands off him if he was in your bed tonight. You just wanted to have the upper hand for a while. Even though it'd only be a short while.

note: idk if any of it was expected and since i wasn't in the mood to write angst to this extent (especially when i'm already planning on something similar, not centered around infidelity but sort of forbidden or looked down on but nothing creepy, it's just heavy on the angst BUT I digress) i simply changed the course of this fic to satisfy enjoyers of all genres sorta kinda.

lmk if there are any errors please.

[murkystarlight]

Sleeping habits headcanons for the New Order!

Or like.. idk. Pajamas. Habits. You know? I don't know \_(°>°)_/

Jesse - hugs something in their sleep. Just loosely holds it(used to sleep with Reuben so is capable of not holding things in a death grip while asleep). Sleeps in a loose shirt and baggy sweatpants. Just very big comfy clothes will do. Often steals clothes from their friends wardrobe. Just to see how comfortable they are^^. Does some mumbling and shuffling if they dream. Other than that they're pretty still and quiet. Sleep pattern is quite irregular. But manages to sleep a full 2hours of sleep each time. Has a few nightlights to turn on at night before sleeping. Not all the time. Mostly when they're lonely, sad or scared.

Olivia - sleeps with blindfold on. Nothing overly decorated. Just a plain blindfold. Maybe some ruffles. And glitter. Okay- maybe a little decorated. Due to her overworking, sometimes she ends up falling asleep in her daily clothes. But she finds it uncomfortable. Likes to sleep in something fluffy/fuzzy. Quite the stylish sleeper. And maybe a sleep cap too. Rambles a bit while sleeping. But doesn't move much. Maybe the occasional turning left, then turning right. But no big movements. Sleep pattern... she does have a schedule. It's kept pretty well. Except when she's caught up in her work. She misses the chance. Until she gets back in touch with reality... she stays awake and work. Though she does try her best to clean up and sleep once she is broken out of her daze.

Axel - very free. Sleeps when ever he wants. But. Once he falls asleep, he most definitely will end up sleeping a full 8 hours before waking up. He is a heavy sleeper. You just CANNOT wake him up. You need very specific methods if you really need to. Doesn't move much or talk while asleep. But he snores. He- well I- sorry. But my brain kind of sees him similar as my dad- and I think Axel would often sleep with just... just his underwear. Or +his shirt along with it. Probably a normal short sleeved t-shirt. Even in winter. Short sleeved. Dunno why tbh... mhm. Likes holding something while sleeping too. Nothing too big or heavy. Maybe a blanket.

Petra - nightgown. I don't care what you say. She wears a nightgown. Capiche? Capiche. Something simple. Just like a long black nightgown(though only when there isn't anyone else there with her maybe?). Often wears simple shirt and shorts too. Actually- she doesn't sleep much when she's on adventure. But when she does.... now. She has two ways of sleeping. Most of the time she's quiet and still. Like. Dead still. (They had to wake her up a few times to check if she was alive.) She wakes up very easily. Light sleeper. Probably a habit from having to sleep in caves and avoid getting ambushed. Can tell if she's needed or if there is commotion around while she's asleep. But second one, if she wears out completely or gets knocked out, she sleeps deep. Too deep. But now she can't stay still. She is.. uh... all over the place. All of the time. She wakes up on the other side of the bed. The blanket sprawled around somewhere randomly. Also really loud. Mumbling, talking, groaning... slight snoring.. because she's able to sleep peacefully? And she normally stays on guard even when asleep but during this she feels safe? Or secure in some cases. Or because she just wasn't expecting to fall asleep like that. Also sleeps while holding something, tightly. Very tightly. Maybe like.. a small rock in her hand? Or clings onto a person or a body pillow. Anyways. Survival instincts and keeping on edge most of the time, even during her sleep. Probably ended up sleeping in every day clothes or maybe even armor when she couldn't find a place to sleep while outside. Isn't the best but.. it's okay. Oh- right! She sleeps with her bandana on

Lukas - stripes. Yes. Striped pajamas. And the... Santa hat looking sleeping hat. But he doesn't mind if he sleeps in his everyday clothes. He will sleep in jeans and not complain. Mhm. He also sleeps in the weirdest poses. Says it's comfortable(doesn't mind it). Talks a bit in his sleep, though it's more like whispering. Doesn't move while he sleeps. Probably so that he doesn't disturb Dewey when he sometimes sleeps nearby. Purring can be heard. Either from the cat or the man himself. Cares more about the place he sleeps in than the stuff he wears. But- he likes fluffy fleeces maybe?

☆finishing☆

Jesse's opinion of sleepware!!

(All borrowed from friends who totally agreed)

Axel - his clothes are big. Almost like a nightgown or a oversized shirt for me. So that's a plus. It's comfortable. Also. His shirts have a lot of fun, cool designs on it. I like them. Would recommend(to who??)

Olivia - actually, we often share our clothes(similar size). It's quite nice trying on each others style. But it's true that she.. doesn't let me take it without any notice. Which- is exactly what I do all the time. Plus, her sleepwear is warm from the fuzz and fluff. Eye shade tickles too much for me though. Plus... I kind of prefer the light

Petra - so. While I was going through her closet. Guess what I found. Nightgown! It's pretty classy. Don't know why she never wore this during sleepovers but- it's very nice. Makes me slip a whole lot. But I get to wear it. Besides, it's for sleeping. It doesn't matter if it's too long and I.. keep constantly slipping on it...-

Lukas - okay. His pajamas are..... surprisingly warm. Ooo his fleece is also really soft and warm. Kinda strange that most of his pajamas are stripes. And all in the same color too. He has ones that aren't stripes sure.. but the ones that are stripes? Why is it all the same color??

Gabriel- I went on ahead to steal- I mean. Borrow, some clothes from other friends. Gabriel has pretty simple clothes. Just shirt and pants. Colors are pretty simple too. But they're definitely good for sleeping. Very comfortable

Soren - is that a robe??! ...eh. who cares. I look good in it 🙃

Ivor - surprisingly, he doesn't sleep in his "breathable" clothes. He just has a normal set of pajamas. He also has a nightgown. Fancy too

[yandere-paramour]

So Noelle, being to a degree emotionally reliant on knowing that darling is safe and that her apartment is a sanctuary. How is she handling having that mental construct violated? Like say for example there's a break in and the apartment is robbed, darling isn't hurt or anything just that perception of having a safe secure place violated in some way. c:

GREAT Question, I was excited to answer this one.

First, let's explore the logistics of this. By the nature of her wealth and status, Atalanta has a trusted and experienced security team to protect her at all times. Since she was hired, Noelle has had security around her too, both because Ata likes her and because she is a potential risk. If Noelle is kidnapped and tortured for information, Montclair secrets could come out and that's a huge problem. So there is at least 1 security guard following Noelle around/Guarding her apartment at all times. A potential intruder would have to break into the building, get in the elevator, somehow know the apartment number, get past the guard, and then get into the locks. Noelle is no fool, she has taken precautions to protect both herself and Darling.

If someone managed to do all that, Noelle would be downright hysterical. Like she would have a mental breakdown, and Darling isn't even hurt in this scenario. If Darling was hurt, she might go on a rampage. For now, she is able to tone it down to just a simple mental breakdown.

You have never seen Noelle like this, and you will never see it again. In fact, very very few people have seen Noelle like this (Odette, her mom, and a few stepfathers). Noelle is a very, very calm person. She doesn't raise her voice or show any extreme emotions. You could be psychotic and she would calm you down slowly and gently, wrap you in a blanket, and hold you close as you slept.

But this is more than she can handle. This is violating her sacred space. She has carved out one space in the entire fucking world and some jackass has fucking defiled it? She can't have one damn thing? What did she fucking do in her past life to deserve all this?

You're not fucking staying here tonight. Noelle sends you with a security guard to a hotel room Atalanta arranged; she'll catch up later tonight. She has to do something first. You can try to protest but she's not in the fucking mood and you are going to listen and go. She's actually a little scary, she always speaks kindly to you.

You wait anxiously in the hotel for Noelle to come back for about 2 hours. When she finally comes, she is back to her normal loving, doting self, stroking your hair and lamenting about how scared you must've been and how brave you were and how she is so thankful you are safe and sound. She brought your favorite stuffed animal and some clothes for the two of you. She seems the same, only a little sweaty. After she showers, she cuddles you to sleep, then gets up to get her laptop and try to rebuild your lives.

The next day, Noelle allows you (after a lot of begging and pleading on your end) to go get some more essentials. When you get back through the kicked-in door, you are shocked. The place looks much, much worse than it did when you saw it last. The expensive glass vases and trinkets Noelle decorates with are shattered on the ground, the paintings clawed, the TV seemingly kicked in. The place looks ransacked, and your mouth drops open. You know Noelle would never be negligent enough to not leave someone to watch the door, and nothing sentimental seems hurt. All of your possessions are safely intact and pristine. Only... only the expensive things are destroyed... only the things that can be replaced.

"What-" You don't even know what to say, "What happened here?"

"What do you mean, Darling?" Noelle cocks her head at you, confused, "The burglars did this; it was like this when you left."

"No-"

"You're mistaken, my love. This must be such a great shock to you. Let's get your things and we can go back to the hotel room and rest. I'll even order some of those cookies you like."

[magicaldestinyharmony]

In Life and In Death

male!knight x female!count's daughter!reader part 3

CW: mentions of death, whipping, drugs, human trafficking, gambling, human hunting and murder.

WC: around 2k words

A/N: I have finally finished potion number 3 in this series!

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Your eyes flutter open. Once you glimpse the sight of your all-too-familiar ceiling, you deadpan. What do I have to do to stop this? You sigh and cover your eyes from the onslaught of the sunlight. 

You're so sick and tired of it at this point. Waking up, working and spending so much effort to survive, only to fail and end up dead in the end.

You groan and turn on your side once you remember the date. You're starting to hate this number. No matter what you do, you pick up the calendar to see it there, in its black, bold glory.

Aida should be coming in anytime soon. You sigh when you hear the well-timed knock on your door.

“My lady?” Aida opens the door carefully, scared of waking you up. “Are you up? It's time for breakfast.”

A puff of air escapes you again. “I'm up, Aida.” you invite the maid inside your room.

“Oh, good. Let's get you ready for breakfast.”

“Do I have to, Aida? Can't I just have it in bed?” you plead.

Aida’s brows furrow in confusion, “ Well, I guess you could miss. However, may I ask, is there a particular reason?”

“I'm just tired,” of life, of death. Of everything really.

Aida nods in understanding and leaves to fetch your breakfast.

Aida pins the last decoration in your hair and steps back, “Ta-da! What do you think, my lady?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror, uninterested. You've been through this so many times that the glamour of dressing up has lost its allure.

You hesitantly walk down the stairs, reluctant to see your father. If you didn't already hate him, you downright loathe him now.

Everything plays exactly as you recall. Yet when your eyes meet Lucca's, you're hit with an idea.

Why didn't you think of this before? Instead of taking care of Lucca now and letting him die later. Why not make him indebted to you? Thwart your father's plans so Lucca can keep his life and you can keep yours.

With this new drive fueling you, you approach him, “Hello. Are you alright?”

Lucca watches you in silence. You reach out to him, “Are you alr-”

Lucca smacks your hand away. The sound echoes throughout the entrance hall and you cringe in pain.

The noise turns the count's attention towards you. He smirks at the scene in front of him. You pale under his scrutiny and cold gaze. 

“Well, well, well, I see that you dared to injure a Balcom, boy.” The man takes sick pleasure in watching both children cower before him.

“For injuring my precious daughter's hand, you will receive 15 whips.” a creepy grin creeps onto your father's face.

Little tremors shake your body. Lucca did nothing wrong. He doesn't deserve this. “W-wait! It-it wasn't his fault!”

“I see,” your father nods in consideration. “You have a compassionate heart, daughter of mine.”

Your father pats you, “But,” his voice turns cold, “Compassion gets you nowhere in life. Do you still want to stop his punishment?”

Your father's pats turn into an iron grip on your head. He tilts his head, prompting your response, “N-no. Wh-when wronged, we sh-should give back tenfold what we received. I-its's the Balcom way, right?” the automated response rolls off your tongue while you shake in fear.

Your father smiles, “Good job.” he gives you one final pat and turns to a maid, “Take him to the dungeons and make sure to give him his punishment.”

With that, your father departs, leaving deadly silence in his wake.

◇◇◇

Who knew that standing in front of an office could be so nerve-wracking? After taking another deep breath, you hesitantly knock on your father's office.

The door cracks open to reveal your father’s loyal aide, “My lady? What do you need?”

“Can I see father?” you mutter out.

“Let me ask the count,” the aide turns around, leaving you in front of the door.

He returns shortly and ushers you in. “So, what do you want?” your father asks without looking up.

Gathering your courage, you say, “I want that boy.”

Only then does your father look up, “That boy?”

“Yes. The boy you brought in this morning.”

Your father scratches his chin in thought, “And what will you give me in return?”

You gulp. You expected him to say that. Your father is known for not giving without taking. “I'll give you information about House Devoy. Pivotal information.”

“Oho, and is this information credible?”

You nod. “Very well. When will I receive this information?”

“I will have it ready in two days,” you confirm.

“Alright,” your father's gaze turns into a glare. “But if your information turns out to be wrong, you won't escape punishment.”

“Understood.” you bow and leave.

Once the door to your room closes behind you, you collapse in relief. Let's hope that the information you remember from your past lives is enough to save your neck.

You bring double the amount of bandages and ointment on your nightly trip to the dungeons. With the extra abuse Lucca went through today, courtesy of yours truly, you certainly needed more.

After bribing the guard and gaining access to Lucca's cell, you get to work on treating his wounds.

As soon as Lucca feels the cold, stinging sensation of the ointment, he opens his eyes. You make eye contact. He glares at you. You shake your head, ignoring him and continue working.

Once Lucca's last wound has been patched up, you leave the bread you got him and stand up to leave.

You feel his gaze on you the whole time, trying to size you up. “Why do you care?” you barely hear him whisper.

“You got hurt because of me. Of course, I care.” you firmly say.

Lucca scoffs but makes no further comments. You shrug, used to his apathy. This time you were able to leave without any incidents.

◇◇◇

The next morning, you hand a list of everything you remember about Count Devoy to your father. You pray that the information is good enough to keep you and Lucca alive.

You were informed by your father's aide that processing and proving the intel you gave will take some time. Three days to be precise. But you weren't allowed to have Lucca till after. Bastard. You were sure your father took pleasure in tormenting his kids.

Whatever. It was nothing new. It was well-known that your father was a repulsive man. At least to people with a strong sense of justice.

Your father sickened you. He doesn't hesitate to dabble in the illegal. Unlicensed auction houses, drug selling and human trafficking are just some of the things that your father does.

The problem is that he enjoys doing these things. His hobbies are no less disgusting. He enjoys gambling, the company of many women and hunting.

Not your typical animal hunting. He hunts slaves. Buys them then releases them into a forest on the territory to be hunted.

Yet, somehow, his reputation is still intact. Your father spends lots of money to keep his activities under the rug. In fact, he's so well regarded that if someone speaks up, they'll be immediately ignored and silenced. Voluntarily or forcefully.

You shake your head in loathing. Dwelling further on this will only cause a bad mood.

Instead, you opt to go for a walk in the hope that the wind blowing through your hair will calm your turbulent thoughts.

At dinner, you were surprised to find yourself seated to the right of your father. You can practically feel the hatred rolling off your half-siblings.

According to noble etiquette, during a meal, the household's head sits at the head of the table. Dubbed as the seat of honour.

The next most important person is seated to the right of the seat of honour. Then the third most important to their left, then the fourth on the right and so on.

In a highly competitive family like yours, getting the seat on the right of the head’s seat essentially means the favour of the count. Not a position you necessarily want.

The meal proceeds in suffocating silence. The only sounds are the clinking of plates and spoons echoing in the room.

At the end of the meal, your father makes a comment that you wish he never uttered, “I'm very pleased with you.”

As soon as he leaves, your half-siblings look at you with obvious murderous intent. Bastard. You were convinced that your father thrives on the discord between his children.

As the fifth daughter, your chance at succession is practically non-existent. Sitting at the right of the seat of honour and getting a compliment from the head suggests that you're participating in the fight for succession.

So all in all, your father raised the risk of your death. Not a good thing.

◇◇◇

You were incredibly relieved when your father finally handed Lucca over to you. You hope that avoiding your father from now on will reduce the attention on yourself.

While Aida and the family doctor gave Lucca a checkup, you gave orders to other maids to set up the room beside yours for him.

You make sure the room is immaculate. The last thing you need is Lucca feeling compelled to kill you over an improper room. With instructions in place, you meet up with Aida in front of the infirmary. 

“How is he?” you ask, once you reach her.

“The doctor said he's severely malnourished and suffering from multitudes of wounds.” Your maid dutifully replies.

You grimace, “Is it serious?”

“Some of them are,” Aida says, sullen.

You frown, “Let me see him.”

Aida nods and opens the door to let you in.

You blink your eyes against the sunlight streaming in through the window across the room. Shielding your eyes, you notice that the whole room is made from walnut. The desk and chair to your right are cluttered with paper and books. The left side of the room houses a table and a modest library. The table has what you assume to be a mix of herbal plants and medicine concoctions on it. A small table and seats are tucked at the back of the room. Overall, it has a warm vibe to it.

You turn to the bed sitting in the corner beside the window. Lucca sits on it, white sheets tucked around him, staring out the open window, the white sheer curtains fluttering around him. The wind flows through the window, taking his silver strands for a ride. He looks dwarfed in the bedding, his arms look scrawny and pale against the white of the sheet. His body is littered with bandages. 

Your heart lurches at the sight. While nothing justifies him killing you over and over again, you realize that he was just a kid. Is a kid. He lost his family overnight, endured abuse from the Count and fought demons as the Divine Warrior. It was no wonder how the kid ended up the way he did.

“Are you done staring?” Lucca speaks without turning around.

You answer his question with a question, “How are you feeling?”

Lucca shrugs and you sigh, exasperated at his non-answer.

Pulling up a stool beside the bed, you stare at his small frame again. A child should never have to undergo such hardship.

Another breeze streams through the open glass panes, ruffling your hair and blocking your vision for a moment. Moving your strands away, you notice that Lucca has finally faced you. You grin, loving the feeling of the air in your hair and the fact that he’s finally looking at you.

It feels somehow freeing to feel the flutter of the wind caressing you. You hold Lucca’s gaze, smiling, hoping that he shares (or at least) feels your joy.

When he doesn’t say anything, you turn to face the lush green visible through the window. Lucca doesn’t turn away, keeping his eyes on you. The silence feels liberating. Now, at this moment, you aren’t a murderer and his victim. You are just two children enjoying the wind. So you don’t say anything, content to watch the birds drift from branch to branch while Lucca watches you.

[moonfromearth]

Lou hadn't ever thought to dig deeper into the identity of her mysterious supporter. Now she was even more confused. Naila Cabral, the town legend, wanted her to compete in the UHC for... Whatever reason. It didn't make any sense.

Although, now isn't the time to worry about it. Sienna was right. Lou had a competition to win... Or at least participate in.

[transcript below cut]

[Sienna and Lou enter the tack room and Sienna is showing Lou around when she asks how she knows Naila]

[inside the tack room]

Sienna: Anyone competing can store their supplies in here, or rent anything they don't have.

[Lou looks around the room, amazed at the amount of trophies and riding equipment.]

[Sienna is silent, watching her with squinted eyes for a moment before finally asking...]

Sienna: How do you know Naila Cabral?

Lou: *surprised* Huh? Oh, we met just the other day. She approached me and suggested I compete.

Sienna: Do you know who she is?

Lou: No... Why?

Sienna: Naila Cabral is only the most decorated rider in the Ridge. She just moved back to compete in the Ultimate Horse Championship. It was a big deal, look...

*Sienna shows Lou and article on her phone detailing Naila's return to Chestnut Ridge*

Article: "Ultimate Horse Championship Winner Returns to Chestnut Ridge" by Maggie Douglas

CHESTNUT RIDGE - Growing up in Chestnut Ridge there are two things prioritized over anything else: Nectar Making, and the Ultimate Horse Championship, and everyone knows you can't talk about the Ultimate Horse Championship without talking about Naila Cabral. A two time winner of the competition who went on to earn many medals in the 20xx Mt. Komorebit Olympics among other accolades, Cabral has spent years as a top horse trainer in the industry. Now, 20 years after making history as the only contestant to ever win the Ultimate Horse Championship twice, the legend has returned to her home town, sending one question along the town gossip train... Does she plan on competing this spring? If she won, she would make history for a third time- [article cuts off here]

Lou: But- But if she's such a famous rider, why would she be so interested in me? And what would she want to compete against me for?

Sienna: Only one way to find out.. Go compete! Show her what you're made of!

*a muffled announcement is heard from outside*

Well, you'd better get yourself out there! That show jumping trophy won't win itself.

[honey-floret]

(CW// Drugs, Non-con, Manipulation)

Log X11042555b Journal of Dr. Beatrice "Honey" Lewis

Time seemed to slow down as Honey enjoyed every soft caress, every meaningful kiss, every build up and release as the two humans intertwined their bodies in a passionate embrace. Her clothes started to feel too hot and restrictive, and her panties grew ever more wet with every passing moment. She struggled to try and take them off, but Alma wasn't having it. She pinned Honey down and bit her neck. The bite sent a shock right through Honey as she let out a loud moan. Her mind was slowly being lost to endless bliss. No thoughts were allowed to pass through her head.

All the while Cybilpedium watched intently, taking in all the pleasure she had caused. It was all part of the game of course. Show Honey exactly the kinds of things she could expect out of being her floret and slowly watching her crumble. She'd be surprised if her repressed researcher didn't break after this. But then again there was more fun to be had.

"I think you two have had enough fun for now, don't we want to get back to our little game?"

Honey tried to form a sentence but all she was able to get out was "G..g..game?"

"Yes petal, our little game. I think I might change some rules.. I'm thinking that I get to ask truth or dare to you two cuties and you answer! Doesn't that sound like fun? You don't even have to think of any questions, you just get to enjoy. And I suppose I need you a bit more, shall we say, aware for this."

Cybil's vines stretched out of her arm, slowly pulling Alma off of Honey. With a slight prick she administered a counter agent to the Xenodrugs within Honey, removing all of that intoxicating sensitivity. Honey moaned, "Noooooo!!!"

"No? No what?" The affini giggled, "as I said we can't play more if you're not able to even form a sentence. That wouldn't be fun would it?"

"I guess, I guess not Cybil..." Honey said dejectedly.

"And I think we're going to change that too. For the remainder of this game I want you to call me Miss Cybilpedium, just like my sweet Alma."

Honey grumbled but she did really want to play more. She would love it if Cyb... Miss Cybilpedium, told Alma and her to continue kissing again. No! No! Those weren't the thoughts of an independent sophont! But it felt so good tho...

"Now then Alma!"

The floret excitedly wagged her butt! "Yes Miss Cybil!!"

"I choose truth for you, tell me little one, do you enjoy playing with Honey?"

"Oh yes yes yes yes!!! Honey is the best and I love playing with her!" The floret was wagging her butt even more excitedly and flapping her arms.

"Good~ Now," the Affini turned her gaze to the independent sophont, "What is your name darling?"

What a weird question to ask Honey thought, "Honeyyy!!!!!"

"Is it?"

The Affini took out her own data pad and searched for something,

"Right here in the legal records your name is Dr. Beatrice Lewis."

Honey looked incredibly confused, "But... but I'm Honey!"

"Curious isn't it? It's something we can change don't you worry. I'll make sure that your name is Honey forever. But I have a couple more questions to ask you. Oh my before that; your clothes look so dirty and disheveled, and I can see you're just sitting in your own wet. Before we go on, I think it's time to get you changed. Both of you. It must feel so uncomfortable to be sitting in such wet panties such as yours."

The Affini gestured something with her vines, a come here motion. Honey felt her body moving to the command without thinking. Hopping up into Miss Cybilpedium's arms right beside Alma. They were just as warm and reassuring as they had always been. Together they walked through the house to Miss Cybilpedium's bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of the house, with artefacts from other worlds, with a large lavish bed in the middle with a set of stairs leading up to it. She set the humans down on the bed. She made a gesture with her hand, and both Sophonts immediately sat. Miss Cybilpedium began rustling through her drawers.

"No, no, no, oh these look cute! I'm so glad I compiled a second pair; a matching set!"

The Affini turned around holding a pink and purple matching pyjama set, along with two sets of white lace panties. She set to work stripping Alma first. Her vines gently guiding the dress off of Alma's body, exposing the florets large breasts. Honey couldn't help but blush. Her vines then worked their way down Alma's body removing her panties. Honey couldn't help but cover her eyes, while she really wanted to see Alma's body, no! She's a good girl she won't. Alma teased her. "You're allowed to look silly! I'm very proud of pussy. The Xeno Vet did such a good job!"

Honey uncovered her eyes a smidge, and there Alma was, her whole body looking even more radiant than it did in clothes. Fuck she was so beautiful. However it didn't last long as Miss Cybilpediums vines were back at work putting on Alma's new outfit. When she was finished she turned to Honey, her vines making a gesture that said arms up! Honey lifted her arms and her dress was quickly off. Her small tits exposed to Cybil and Alma. Her hands quickly shot down to her chest and she covered them.

"It's okay Petal, it's not like we haven't seen breasts before. And you have a very nice pair."

Honey blushed, "it's not.. it's not that. It's just I've been on hrt for so long and I've never been able to grow more than this. And Alma's are so just big and gorgeous."

"Petal, Petal, if you want bigger breasts just ask. We can get you on a regiment of Class Gs and just give you the biggest and best breasts imaginable."

"Re...really?"

"Yes and all you have to do is ask."

"I.. I would like that."

"Then it's settled, you will have exactly the kind of breasts you've ever dreamed of. Now please, may I finish changing you?"

"Umm I have another problem. I umm, I don't really want either of you to see what I have down there..."

Alma was about to say something but was shushed by Miss Cybilpedium.

"Then we shall close our eyes, and that can also be solved. I know a wonderful Xeno Vet who would be pleased to help you solve that issue."

"Miss Cybilpedium? Thank you."

"Of course Petal" and with that both Alma and Miss Cybilpedium shut their eyes, as Cybil's vines did their work. Removing the dirty panties and putting nice fresh clean ones on Honey, as well as the matching pyjamas.

"Now then we should get back to our game." The affini stretched, "I think it's time to ask Honey another question."

"But it was my turn!!" Squealed Alma.

"It's whoever's turn I decide little one. Honey, what do you do when I say the words Good Girl"

Honey didn't think she just dropped to all fours onto the bed. Her body moved on its own as her butt began to wag furiously. She let out several loud barks.

"That's exactly right!! What a good girl!!"

Honey's barks became even more excited. Alma started barking along.

"Good girls!! Alma, what do puppies do together?"

Miss Cybilpedium said as her vines reached behind her and grabbed a knotted rope. She tossed the rope between the between the humans. Alma immediately pounced on the rope grabbing it in her mouth and shaking it. Honey not to be outdone tried to grab the other end of the rope in her mouth. Upon catching it she started to pull starting a tug of war between the two of them. Both humans tugged and growled and yanked as they fought for the rope. Inch by inch Alma started to let go of the rope, eventually letting it go completely and Honey tumbled backwards. Seeing an opportunity Alma jumped on Honey and started licking her face!

"Absolutely adorable. But unfortunately the game must go on. Now puppies slowly come back and return to your Sophont selves. Very good. Now I have a question for Honey. Do you remember what you looked like over a year ago when the Human Domestication Treaty was signed?"

"Looked like this?" Honey answered gesturing to herself. What confusing questions these were. Of course she looked exactly the same as she does now. Nothing really has changed in her life that much.

"No Petal."

The affini turned her datapad to Honey.

"This is what you looked like."

On the screen was bent over human, her silver and brown hair all frazzled, frayed, and unkept. Her glasses too big for her face, a perpetual scowl on her lips. A face of pure misery. Her clothes dark and practical.

"I.. what.. that's not me is it?"

"It is Petal."

"But I..." what did Honey look like? She was certain that woman on the screen wasn't her. But how could she prove that?

"Here let me play you the recording. To prove it's you."

Hello, this is Dr. Beatrice Lewis signing on for the first time. It's been about a month since the Terran Accord dissolved with the signing of the Human Domestication Treaty with the Affini Compact...........

As the recording played Honey kept trying to object, but each time Miss Cybilpedium silenced her. Finally the recording finished. "That totally isn't me. I wouldn't say those things!"

"Petal remember what I said before, legally your name is Dr. Beatrice Lewis. This is from your data pad."

"How... let me see a mirror! I can prove it's not me!" Honey didn't believe this, that couldn't have been her!

Miss Cybilpedium put a mirror in front of Honey. What she saw in the mirror was a happy girl, all smiles, her hair a little messy from play, but clean and fresh, her eyes sparkling under her well fitting glasses, if not a little blown out, and a fresh colourful comfy outfit on her body.

"See! I told you it wasn't me!"

"Oh Honey. What else do you see in that mirror?"

Miss Cybil snapped her fingers.

Honey's mind slowly started to come back to itself. With a growing, horrifying, realization that what she saw wasn't the smart independent Sophont she knew herself to be. But a dumb, happy Floret.

- End Recording -

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

First << Previous << List of Chapters >>

[malachianderson]

[Chi sighed happily.] God, can you imagine decorating this entire house for Christmas? Oh, it's going to be stunning! I just can't wait. We could get like a 10 foot Christmas tree!

Sugar, that sounds sweet in theory, but I don't have a job yet. When we get here, it'll still be a hobby the same way what you want is.

[patchwork-crow-writes]

63 - Plaything

And so we have come to this, my friend. You've overcome the final obstacle - bested the Knight, suppressed the Titans, consigned the Roaring to history, and brought happiness to this world and its inhabitants. Truly, You are every bit the hero I always hoped You would be…

I must ask, before You commit to this final choice - did You enjoy Yourself? Did You find our antics entertaining, did our joys and sorrows move You? And did You grow to love this world, to rely upon us as much as we relied upon Your guiding hand…?

And if that truly how you feel, then don't you want it to… to keep going? If it were offered You, wouldn't You choose to continue to watch us grow and develop, to laugh and cry and learn and love…? To serve and to please You is the entire reason for our existence, after all!

I can give it to You, dearest Angel - the entire world and everything in it, to play with as Your whims dictate. Join with me, and together We'll weave a new chapter into being, a tale without peer and a story without end. Let all its characters be Ours - all of Our most beloved friends, all in one place, Our playthings to pose and smash together as We wish.

And when We tire of this story, We shall simply make a new one. New heroes and new villains, new worlds and new friends… Your imagination is the only limit, and as Your willing vessel I shall bring it all to life for You. As this world's saviour, O Angel, this is nothing less than You deserve - Your very own Heaven to mould and shape as You see fit.

So then come to me, my dear heart! Be one with me and let Us begin the game anew!

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 63

<-<-First || <-Prev || Next-> || Index

[wandixx]

Halloween dress-up, let's go!!!

Assignment: "Dress up as ghosts".

Status: Yes. They're ghosts. Just really different types of ghosts

[ghost-pasta]

Post-Canon Idea

Been thinking about Adult/30s Danny being a teacher as a career choice. It's so funny, like, imagine:

what grade level would he teach? [Highschool would be funny, Middle school would be funny, Elementary school would be adorable]

Imagine him making lesson plans. [It's funny to me!]

How would he decorate his classroom if he was allowed?

What class subject would he teach, and how funny would it be if it was something like Home Ec. or P.E. [I'm thinking math teacher though]

What would he wear as a teacher? [polo and khakis??] What would he wear on casual Fridays?

Danny wearing space pun shirts would be really funny if the class he taught had nothing to do with space.

Would his class think he's inexplicably spooky? Would other people at the school spread the rumor that he's spooky but his class is like "what are you talking about??? He's a dork???"

Working at Casper High would be so funny. He's back in the freaking building again. Otherwise I think I'd stick him somewhere else. (Elmerton /j)

Would make a funny crossover premise. "The new [substitute?] teacher Mr. Fenton". Very silly.

Funny also if Sam and Tucker have "cooler" jobs than Danny. Or if Tucker becomes rich and famous and no one believes Danny that they're friends.

The mental image of Danny shopping for school supplies and accidently meeting Mr. Lancer at the store is so funny. How fast do you think Mr. Lancer would clock him? He'd take in what he's buying and work from there or the look in Danny's eyes gives him away immediately.

I'm gonna draw this later i stg it's so funny to me.