#YES i am willing to explain any and all scars you see! they do have stories for the most part!!!!!

[reborn--maggot]

Remember, you can draw whatever you want.

[adhd-coyote]

Why hello there!!! My dear partner in kissing prompts! Could I ask for Fox/Thorn with 18 - a kiss while laughing please??? ❤️🤍

Hehe yes indeed you may ask!! These two were an absolute delight to write, I love them so much

-

“You have freckles,” Thorn noted, idly tracing their thumb along the scar that ran down Fox’s jaw. This wasn’t the first time they’d stared at Fox’s face, and it certainly wasn’t the first time they’d noticed Fox’s freckles, but right now, snuggled up warm and safe in their bunk with plenty of time to kill, an idea popped into Thorn’s head.

“Really?” Fox tugged Thorn’s hand closer to nuzzle their palm. Despite the softness of the gesture, his voice was dripping with sarcasm when he continued, “I never noticed.”

Thorn snorted, rolling their eyes, untucked themself from Fox’s side to climb on top of him, and tangled their legs to prevent Fox from escaping. Fox raised an eyebrow, unamused but curious. “What are you doing, Thorn?”

“Gonna count ‘em.”

Fox’s second eyebrow joined the first. “You’re going to count my freckles?”

“Yep.” Thorn popped the ‘p’ and settled down, arms framing Fox’s face. “Needed to make sure I had a good angle.”

“A good angle.” There was that amused smirk that made Thorn’s heart flutter in their chest. A sharp, subtle curl of lips, like the knives Fox kept up his sleeve. “Cyare, you can barely even keep track of your hair products, how’re you gonna manage to keep count my freckles?”

“Hey! I keep track of my hair products just fine, thank you very much,” Thorn sniffed indignantly. “Now hold still so I can see.”

Fox obliged, exasperated but willing to indulge them, as always. Thorn grinned and leaned forward to nuzzle, overcome with affection, before pulling back enough to see.

“One,” they pressed a kiss to a freckle on Fox’s nose, “two,” under his eye, “three,” the center of his cheek, “four,” the corner of his mouth, “fi-”

“Are you going to kiss all of them?” Fox asked incredulously. Thorn groaned and bumped their foreheads together.

“Yes, of course I am! And don’t interrupt, otherwise I’m gonna have to start over.”

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna lose track.”

“Well I will if you distract me, Foxy. Now where was I?”

“You were on five,” Fox snickered, eyes sparkling with fond amusement. “Or maybe six? Or seven?”

Thorn’s nose wrinkled as they glared without heat. “You’re a menace. It was five.”

Fox grinned, canines flashing. “Was it? How sure are you about that, cyare? Are you absolutely positive?”

“You’re either stalling, or you’re trying to make me start over so you can get more kisses,” Thorn accused.

“Oh? Which one is it, then, hm?”

“I’m not answering that. Hush.” Thorn pressed a kiss to a freckle on the corner of Fox’s mouth. “One,” the crease in his brow, “two,” his jaw, “three-”

“So you did have to start over,” Fox cut them off again, eyes dancing with playful mischief.

“You know what? Fuck you.”

“But we already did that today, Thorn’ika.”

“You os’ika-”

Fox laughed. Clear, bright, and loud. It was a rare sound, what with the stress of their lives, and it sent sparks of warmth and love shooting through Thorn’s chest. They pressed forward into a proper kiss, drinking that sound in, craving more of it, and Fox responded in kind, until they were both breathless and panting and grinning like idiots.

“You missed.”

Thorn blinked. “Huh?”

“There aren’t any freckles on my mouth, Thorn’ika,” Fox explained, teasing. “You missed.”

“A menace,” Thorn declared again, rolling their eyes. “Now shut up and hold still. One-”

-

Kiss ask game

[vodika-vibes]

Hi hi Ive just seen you're bouquet request is coming g go an end I'd LOVE Acica(Secret love) ambrosia (returned affections) for Commander fox (I adore him)

If you need any baseline idea maybe him just refusing to accept his feelings and after some kinda push finally is like shit like them ofc reader loves him back and has the whole time

I'd also be happy with any of the more classicly grumpy fellas eg alpha 17, but who ever is in your brain

A New Love

Summary: Fox is in love with his friend...he just refuses to admit it to anyone, including himself.

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!Reader

Word Count: 2028

Warnings: Mentions of Palpatine physically abusing Fox

Prompts: Acacia - Secret love, Ambrosia - returned affections

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I don't really know anything about make-up because I'm allergic to almost all of it and so I don't wear it. So I apologize if anything is wrong. Also, I hope this is close to what you're wanting? I was struggling to come up with something good here.

“Will you hold still?” Fox rolls his eyes but stops moving as she carefully applies the makeup to his jaw and cheek, “Do you want me to cover the scars on your neck too?” She asks as she tilts his head to the side so she can see better.

“Probably should.” He replies with a sigh, “Don’t want my brothers to ask any questions that I can’t answer.”

She scowls at him, “Maybe you should let them ask questions, Fox.”

“You said you were willing to help without judgment, sen’ika.” He reminds her with a pointed look.

She sighs, “I am. Of course I am. I’m here, aren’t I?” She pulls away and eyes the covered scar critically, “Alright, open your shirt so I can to your neck and chest.”

Fox rolls his eyes again, and unfastens the clip at his neck, exposing his neck enough that she’s able to get to the scar.

She inhales sharply when she sees just how bad the scarring is, “...Fox-”

“You promised.” He reminds her flatly.

“Yes. I know. I know I did.” Her voice sounds thick with tears, and Fox feels a surge of guilt. If he had anyone else who would help him cover his injuries he would go to them, rather than bothering his one nat-born friend.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

She shakes her head, a weak smile on her painted lips, “It’s okay. I was pushing, and I promised that I wouldn’t.”

“It’s for your own safety.” Fox mutters, his eyes closing as she goes to work.

“I know. So you keep saying.” Her hands are warm against his skin as she gently applies the make-up to cover the scarring. She’s quiet for a moment, and then she sighs, “Sorry, I have to restart. These scars are redder, I need to do some color correction.”

Fox opens his eyes and watches as she pulls a wipe from the table and starts wiping the makeup off his neck, and then she crosses the room to her vanity and digs around for some other make-up.

He really is lucky to have her. 

Fox knows that he’d never be able to explain these scars to his brothers. Or, he doesn’t want to explain these scars to his brothers, rather. He pushes the swell of bitterness away with ease. He loves his brothers, he wouldn’t want any of them to be in his place.

But it would be nice if they noticed that he was suffering.

At least his sen’ika sees it.

She’s a make-up artist, who works at one of the largest and most well respected theaters on Coruscant. She invited herself into his life, and Fox has to admit that his life is all the better for it.

Partly because she keeps his secrets and is able to help him hide his scars and bruises from his brothers. But mostly because she’s a genuinely good person.

It’s not love.

It’s not.

He can’t afford to love anyone, not with the state of the galaxy. Not when his boss throws lightning around like it’s nothing. 

Sure, he thinks about her all of the time. And sure, he worries about her constantly.

But he doesn’t love her. He can’t.

“Ha! Found it!” She hurries back to his side with a tube of something green, “I’ll use some of this first,” She murmurs, “And that’ll help hide the red-”

“You’re the best, you know that?” Fox asks, leaning back as she applies the color corrector to the scar.

“Well, I try.” She takes a step back and sets the tube back on the table, “How are you feeling, by the way? You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“I work a lot.”

She sighs, “I’ll cover the dark circles under your eyes too. But, Fox, this isn’t feasible in the long term.”

“I know it isn’t, sen’ika.” Fox replies quietly, “I appreciate the fact that you’re willing to cover my scars as regularly as you do.”

“Yeah, well…” She grabs the concealer and then points it at him, “It’s not like the Republic bothers to pay you, so this is quite literally the least I can do. Normally you’re not this concerned though.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to 79s with my brothers this afternoon,” Fox says with a sigh, “And I don’t want them to worry.”

“Oh?” She grins at him, “Maybe I’ll join you.”

Fox glances up at her, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah? Looking for a boyfriend among my brothers?” He asks as he ignores the pang of jealousy.

“Maybe I want to dance with you.” She counters.

Fox laughs softly, “That’s a terrible idea.”

Her smile falters, “Right. Of course. I just…I wish you would tell me why it’s such a bad idea for me to spend time with you.”

“It’s complicated.”

She sighs, “Right. You could just say that you’re not interested, Fox. I won’t be mad.”

He sighs, “The more time you spend with me, the more likely it is that you’re going to get hurt.” Fox says, “I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” She pulls back slightly to admire her work, “Alright. You’re done, Fox.”

“Awesome. Thanks, sen’ika.” He refastens his shirt and stands, only for her to press his helmet into his hands, “I don’t deserve you.” Fox says with a fond smile.

“Nonsense.” She shakes her head, “You deserve everything in the galaxy and then some.” She favors him with a small, adoring smile. “I’m still planning on going to 79s tonight, Fox. I’ll just…keep my distance and find someone else to dance with. Promise.”

Fox’s fingers flex against his helmet. He’s not jealous. He’s not.

“Sounds like a plan.”

She smiles at him and hugs him quickly, “Be careful, as careful as you can be, at work today. There’s only so much I can hide.”

He folds his arm around her, “It’s not up to me, but I’ll be as careful as possible. Promise.” He drops a light kiss to the top of her head, and then pulls himself out of her grip, and heads out of the apartment.

Fox genuinely didn’t think that his sen’ika was going to come to 79s. He knows her, pretty well by this point, and he knows that she’s not really into the club scene.

She doesn’t like loud music, or the scent of stale beer, or the press of strangers against her.

So when he sees her enter the club, he nearly chokes on his drink.

She looks…great. Wearing a miniskirt and a crop top, and leather boots that make her legs look amazing.

Fox isn’t surprised to see that she’s drawing attention from his brothers. She’s already stunning, after all.

His gaze lingers on her as she heads to the bar, and his grip tightens around his bottle when he sees several of his brothers crowding around her. She probably hates that, Fox can’t help but think with a small smile. 

“She’s pretty,” Wolffe notes lightly, his gaze following his twins, “You should go dance with her.”

“Pass.” Fox replies, though he keeps his dark gaze on her, “Besides, she’s got enough admirers as it is.”

“Yeah. But they’re shinies and you’re Marshal Commander.” Wolffe replies with a small smirk, “You should feel honor bound to save her from their drooling.”

“I’m trying to get drunk, vod.”

“Maybe I’ll go and ask her to dance.” Wolffe muses, as he leans to the side to get a good look at her legs.

“Maybe you should leave her alone.” Fox bites out. 

Wolffe pauses and leans back in his seat, his eyes locked on his twin. “Huh. You know her, don’t you?”

Fox doesn’t answer him, he just takes a sip of his drink, though a small smile crosses his face when his sen’ika meets his gaze from across the room. Though she’s quick to look away, likely remembering her promise to not bother him.

“You know her well,” Wolffe continues, his eyes narrowing accusingly, “I saw that look. You’re friends with her.”

“Wolffe-”

“No, no. Why didn’t you tell me you had a pretty natborn friend? Are you sleeping with her?”

“What? No!”

“Why not?” Wolffe demands.

“Our friendship isn’t like that.” Fox bites out.

“Bullshit. I saw that look. You want her.” Wolffe says, “I’m going to get her and bring her over here.”

“I…no-” but there’s no point, Wolffe is already up from the table and crossing to the bar.

Fox watches as Wolffe talks to his sen’ika, and he watches as she glances at Fox, and then back at Wolffe and shakes her head with a small smile. He can practically hear her telling Wolffe that she promised to keep her distance tonight.

And then one of the shinies flings his arm over her shoulder and she cringes.

Fox sets his bottle down on the table as the shiny presses himself right against his sen’ika and twines some of her hair around his fingers. He watches as the shiny rubs his cheek against hers, and he’s on his feet and crossing the bar before he really thinks about it.

She’s his, damn it.

He firmly pries the shiny off of her, “Did you ask the lady if you could touch her?” Fox asks his voice flat.

The Shiny blinks at him hazily, and then he straightens, “Marshal Commander-”

“I suggest you go and clear your head.” Fox says, his voice very unamused, and then his gaze lingers on his Sen’ika once the shiny leaves. “Are you okay?”

She smiles sheepishly, “I guess I shouldn’t have even bothered trying to come here.” 

“It’s not really your scene, sen’ika.” Fox points out, gently.

“Yeah, I know.” She pushes her hand through her hair, “I guess I’ll just go home then.” She smiles up at him, “Sorry for ruining your night, Fox. I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Fox replies, “I’m always happy to see you, you know that.” Her smile grows and Fox releases an internal sigh, he’s so karked. Why did he have to realize that he loved her now, of all times?

Fox glances at his twin, who has a wide grin on his face, “I’m going to walk her out. Please don’t make this a thing.”

“Oh. Too late. It’s a thing.” Wolffe puts out his comm, “I’m telling…everyone?”

Fox just sighs and lightly nudges his sen’ika towards the door.

Once they’re outside, he turns to face her while she waits for her taxi to arrive, “Sorry, again. It seems I made things difficult for you.” She says sheepishly.

“Wolffe is my twin, he’s always going to be difficult.” Fox admits, “It’s not your fault.” He hesitates and then he lightly reaches out and brushes his fingers against her cheek. “I am glad that I got to see you tonight.”

“But…you said-”

“I know what I said. I’m an idiot.” Fox interrupts, he lightly brushes his thumb against her cheek, “I want, no need, you to know that I’m not uninterested.”

She blinks at him. “What?”

“Earlier, at your apartment. You said that you wanted me to let you know if I wasn’t interested.” Fox clarifies, “And that’s not the case. At all.”

“Oh,” She breathes the word out.

“I’m just…terrified that someone will hurt you to get to me.”

“I know. I’ve known that for a while.” She admits, “But, Fox, I don’t care.”

He stares at her, “You don’t?”

“I love you enough that it doesn’t bother me.” She speaks so lightly, so nonchalantly, as if she’s not admitting something huge.

Fox sighs and lightly cups her cheek, and he smiles when she leans into his touch, “I think we need to have a long chat.” He finally says, “Tomorrow. In the morning.”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll make breakfast.” She beams at him, and then turns as her cab pulls up. She flashes a quick smile and kisses his cheek, “I’ll see you in the morning, Fox.”

“Yeah. Good night, Sen’ika.”

And then she is gone, and Fox realizes that he has to deal with his overly excitable brothers for the remainder of the night. Tonight’s going to suck.

[ladytauria]

i am soooo predictable but.... Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut. for jaytim my beloved <33333

i combined this prompt with these two---or, well. this prompt from you and @waffleinator-inator <3

um. click under the cut for 3k of slow, tender jaytim body worship <3

this is. barely proofread. apologies for any mistakes ^^; pls don't be afraid to point out any typos <333 i will give this a more thorough edit tomorrow--probably. for now! enjoy <3

>> AO3 <<

Jason has a body made to be worshiped, in Tim’s opinion. How lucky he is to have him spread out on cotton sheets, naked as the day he was born, so utterly willing to let Tim have his way with him.

Tim starts at his feet. He cups his hand around one ankle, raising it in the air, pressing the softest of kisses to the sole. Tim isn’t particularly into feet, the way some people are—but he adores how sensitive they are. As if in testament, Jason jerks. Tim’s grip is firm, keeping him in place, but his toes curl.

“T-Tim,” he says, too tremulous to be properly chiding. Color blooms over his face, the loveliest shade of rose-red.

“Jason,” Tim replies, a little bit mocking, a little bit a reminder. He decides how this is going to go. Just to really let it sink in, he kisses again; this time with a hint of tongue. The bitten off noise he gets is delightful. His mouth curls.

He kisses Jason’s ankle next; lingering over the jut of it. He angles his neck to kiss the tendon, his achilles heel, before lifting the leg higher so he can trail a string of kisses up Jason’s calf.

Both of them are scarred all over—a hazard of the job. Tim gets grafts put on anything too obvious; anything else can be simply explained away by both the treacherous nature of Gotham City and his own athletic pursuits. Jason has not had the same luxury. Nor does Tim think he would take it if anyone offered it. Jason’s scars are part of him, whether he likes them or not, and he doesn’t let go of what belongs to him.

It’s a trait they share.

Jason doesn’t have many scars on his calves, though, and those that are there are faded. Tim pays extra attention to them anyway.

He doesn’t get another noise until he reaches the back of Jason’s knee—the skin there is thin and delicate, and he knows from experience that it’s one of Jason’s sensitive spots. He nuzzles first; relishing in Jason’s sharp intake of breath. Then he kisses with the slightest scrape of teeth. Jason makes a low, tremulous sound.

Tim glances up at him—he has an arm thrown over his face. His teeth dig into his lip, and his face and throat are both still painted red. His other hand fists the sheets.

Precious.

Tim repeats the process on the other leg—Jason trembles and twitches under the ministrations. Tim relishes each and every reaction. He loves how responsive Jason is. He reacts so beautifully to gentleness. It makes Tim want to keep him like this forever.

Tim skips over his thighs for now. Jason’s cock is still mostly soft. Tim can’t help the urge to plant a kiss on it, the flesh soft and hot under his lips. Jason makes a high, embarrassed sound, his flush darkening, spreading over his chest. Tim’s mouth twitches, unable to resist doing it again.

His firm grip on Jason’s thighs is all that keeps them from snapping shut; a second, higher noise escaping him at the same time. He looks up at Tim, eyes already wide and a little pleading.

It breaks Tim’s heart a little, how easily Jason folds under a bit of softness.

At the same time—it’s truly a pleasure to see him so sweet and vulnerable under him. “Ah-ah,” he scolds. “You’re mine right now. I want to enjoy you.”

Jason’s bottom lip is red and swollen, caught between his teeth again. His eyes are glossy. “Y-yes sir,” he whispers, a tremor in his voice.

Tim rubs his thighs reassuringly. “Just lie back and  relax, sweetheart.”

Jason hesitates a moment. Tim waits for him to use his safe word, or otherwise indicate he’s too overwhelmed to continue, but—then he settles back down again.

As soon as he’s relaxed again, Tim slides his hands up to Jason’s hips. He nuzzles his belly, before kissing down the trail of hair leading to his groin. Tim trails more kisses over his pelvic bone, nibbling a little at his love handles, and the pouch of fat over his groin. He lavishes his stretch marks with attention, too; following their paths with his tongue, tasting the salt of his skin.

Jason’s breaths come faster now; bitten off moans and gasps getting stuck in his throat. Tim hates how quiet he is—well. That’s not quite true. He wouldn’t mind if Jason was quiet naturally. What he hates is the way Jason suppresses all noise; like he’s afraid of letting on just how good he’s feeling.

That’s alright, though. Tim has time, and plenty of patience. He can coax those pretty sounds out of him.

He makes sure to pay special attention to the places on Jason’s sides where he’s most sensitive, delighting in the way he squirms. Then, finally, he goes back to Jason’s stomach, where the bottom of his Y-incision starts, and follows it up to Jason’s chest, kissing to each end, and then back to the middle again.

Jason’s breaths sound wetter now—Tim rubs his sides reassuringly, glancing up at him just as a quick check-in. Jason smiles tremulously; a sheen of tears over his eyes. Tim smiles back at him and nuzzles his collarbone.

He cups Jason’s chest in his hands; the relaxed muscle of his pecs not that different from a pair of tits. Jason arches into his hands when he squeezes, sighing sweetly. Tim tweaks his nipples with his thumbs; the buds already hard and pointed despite the heater warming the bedroom.

As much as Tim wants to suck one into his mouth, he decides the circuitous path is the better one. He follows the defined line of his pectorals with his lips and tongue—cups and squeezes them again so he can bite them.

Jason is panting now—his hands coming to rest on Tim’s ribs, the breadth of them almost spanning his whole ribcage. It’s insanely hot. He can feel his cock filling out more, the arousal in his gut starting to burn hotter, more insistent.

Tim takes one of his nipples in his mouth. He sucks, swirling his tongue around the bud—the low groan he gets in response reverberates through Jason’s chest. Tim suckles at it for a bit before gentling his mouth, licking at the skin a few times before scraping it with his teeth.

The whimper Jason makes is loud and unrestrained in the silence—followed quickly by the slap of skin on skin when he covers his mouth, cheeks blazing scarlet.

Tim immediately slides up, taking Jason’s wrist in his hand. He pulls his hand from his mouth, pressing a brief kiss to his palm before kissing his cheek as well. Then he nuzzles him too, mouth against his jaw as he whispers, “Let me hear you, baby. I want to know I’m making you feel good.” He pauses. “You deserve to feel good.”

Another, quieter whimper. Jason squeezes his eyes shut—moisture gathers in the corner of his eyes.

Tim hums, lingering there, giving Jason time to compose himself. Eventually his eyes open again. He blinks quickly to dispel the tears, and then says softly, “I— I’ll try, sir.”

Tim smiles at him, kissing his nose. “Good boy. Thank you.”

That makes him close his eyes again, a shiver rocking his body. Tim gives him another second, and then returns to Jason’s chest. He follows the same path around the other pec; gives his right nipple the same attention as his left.

Jason does well at first, soft sighs and sounds escaping him. But the first higher, louder noise he makes startles him, his mouth immediately clamping shut again.

He opens it again as Tim trails kisses over his shoulders. He sits back so he can kiss down his arm;  over his bicep, the inner part of his elbow, down his forearm, his wrists. He kisses his palms, and each fingertip.

Back up again—down the other. Tears trickle down Jason’s cheeks now; his breaths hitching softly. He’s so pretty when he cries. Tim admits he gets a little eager, going back over his shoulders, his neck, not lingering as long as he means to. (Though he does, at least, remember to spend a little extra time on his throat scar.) 

At his face again, Tim rubs noses with him before kissing the tears away; licking the salt from his lips. “You’re doing so well for me, darling,” he murmurs. As much as he wants to lay the praise on thick, he doesn’t dare—not yet. Instead he kisses his chin, jaw, and cheeks. He nuzzles their noses again, kisses the corners of his mouth, over his eyelids, and the center of his forehead. He kisses back down his nose and ends at his mouth, kissing Jason deep and sweet.

Jason utterly melts beneath him. His mouth opens easily to Tim’s tongue. It’s Tim’s mouth that muffles his moan this time, but otherwise, there’s nothing restrained about it.

It’s music.

Makes Tim linger a little longer, just to hear more of them. And Jason gives them to him, his hands spasming on Tim’s skin.

When he pulls away, a line of spit connects them. It breaks when Tim pecks him again, and then slides down his body. Jason’s cock bumps his stomach on the way down—no longer soft but half-hard. Tim rubs his cheek against it when he passes it, returning to Jason’s thighs.

Fuck.

Jason’s thighs are glorious. Strong, muscular, easily capable of crushing a man’s skull. Dusted with fine hair, shimmering with stretch marks, and textured with a few ridged scars. Tim explores all of it with his lips, tongue, and teeth.

Jason tries—Tim can tell he does. But he keeps muffling himself, automatically biting his lip and clenching his jaw when he thinks he’s going to be too loud.

Tim finishes with his thighs. He nuzzled the base of his cock, cupping his balls in one hand and squeezing. That gets him a breathy sound, his thighs trembling. Tim kisses up his shaft, all the way to the flared mushroom head at the top. He rubs his cheeks against it; precome smearing sticky on his skin.

More high, whimpery moans come from Jason. His body shakes. The musk of his arousal fills Tim’s nose, making his mouth water.

He kisses the head; probes the slit with his tongue. Jason yelps at that, biting it back too late, causing a squeaky sort of sound at the end Tim almost wants to coo at.

He doesn’t. There are more important things to focus on.

Like lavishing his whole cock with little kitten licks. Jason is squirming now; not trying to get away, but the pleasure is clearly getting to him.

Gorgeous.

Tim sucks Jason into his mouth. The taste of him is thick; the girth of him heavy on his tongue. It’s good. Better is the way Jason shouts, body curling up automatically; chest heaving as he pants harsh and rough.

He collapses back into the bed; fingers tangling loosely in Tim’s hair. Tim would smile if his mouth wasn’t full.

He bobs his head a few times—and then swallows him down, nose buried in the thatch of hair at the base. Jason’s whimper sounds strangled. Tim pays him little mind, devoting his attention entirely to Jason’s cock

Tim uses his hands to cup and squeeze Jason’s balls, occasionally dipping behind to press and rub at his perineum. He can feel Jason’s muscles jumping; the way his legs twitch, his chest heaves, his fingers tugging at Tim’s hair. But he doesn’t buck into Tim’s mouth or try to guide his head.

He lets Tim set the pace.

Such a sweet boy.

Still—Tim can tell that, through the pleasure, he’s getting frustrated with himself. It’s in the tension in his belly, the way some of his noises sound more pained than others, the way sometimes he huffs when he should be sighing instead.

Poor darling. Tim eases Jason’s cock from his mouth. He suckles at the bundle of nerves under the head, then trails kisses down the shaft, over his balls. He cups them in his hand, lifting them to expose his [taint]. The high, reedy noise Jason makes when he kisses there is quickly cut off—and followed by a frustrated breath.

Tim kisses again, then turns to nuzzle his thigh before pulling back.

Jason whines. There’s no pleasure in the sound. It’s all panic and fear, and Tim rushes to cup his face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks as he hushes him.

“Shh-hh, darling. I’m not upset,” he soothes. “You’re trying so hard for me, aren’t you?”

Jason blinks up at him. He looks so upset, his poor boy. 

Tim nuzzles him. “Don’t worry, baby. I know it’s hard. Let me help you.”

Jason makes a soft, inquisitive noise.

Tim smiles slyly as he lets go of Jason’s face. “Open up.”

Jason’s brow furrows, but his jaw drops obediently. Tim cups his jaw with one hand; his thumb sliding over Jason’s tongue, pressing down, forcing his mouth open.

Jason’s eyes go wide with realization. He can’t flush any darker, but Tim can see the embarrassment anyway. The way he leans into Tim’s hand, though, is distinctly thankful.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” Tim tells him. He can’t not. Jason’s too damn pretty with his face all red and his mouth hanging open, drool already starting to collect on his bottom lip and spill down his chin. Tim wants. Besides—he can’t hold his mouth open and rim him too, so that’s off the table for now.

He can do that later.

With Jason’s help, Tim gets his knees hooked over Tim’s shoulders. There’s already a pillow supporting his hips, making it easy for him to reach under him and grip the plug he’d worked into him earlier. He pumps it a few times, grinning at the way Jason moans, before pulling it out and tossing it to the side.

He reaches for the lube. It’s a bit of a trick, getting it open one handed. He can’t exactly pour it onto his hand, either, so he just drizzles it right on his dick, flinching a little at the cold. He smears some on Jason’s hole, too, though he’s still fairly slick from the plug.

Jason shivers when he does, the tight ring of muscle fluttering under his touch. He makes a breathy noise, soft and sweet, his breath hot on Tim’s thumb.

It’s strangely erotic, keeping his finger in Jason’s mouth as he lines his cock up, slowly pushing inside. Jason’s body gives to him beautifully, swallowing his cock eagerly. The head slips into his rim with a soft ‘pop’—Tim’s hand moving from his dick to the back of Jason’s thigh.

“Nn—look at you,” Tim breathes. “So eager to be full, aren’t you, baby? Fuck. You fit me so well, like you were built for me. My gorgeous little cocksleeve.”

The sound he makes is beautiful, high and needy, a moan tinged with a whine. His eyes are wide and pleading when he looks at Tim. “Pl’s,” he says, around Tim’s finger.

Tim taps his jaw. “Ah-ah, darling. We don’t speak with our mouths full.”

His hips stutter at the noise that gets him. Tim grips his thigh tight enough to bruise, fighting the urge to snap his pelvis forward and bury himself to the root.

Slow. He’s going to take this slow.

Speed can come later.

For now he watches Jason’s face; each minute twitch of muscle. His eyes get more and more hazy, eyelids drooping. He pants in between moans and sighs. Drool drips down his chin, onto his neck and chest. He’s so fucking pretty.

Tim wants to eat him.

Jason’s body is a furnace. His walls flutter and clench around Tim’s cock; drawing him deeper, deeper. It’s both forever and no time and all before Tim is fully seated in him; his balls slapping Jason’s ass.

Jason’s got his head thrown back, now, the column of his throat pretty and exposed. Tim can’t resist leaning down, scraping his teeth over his adam’s apple before finding the spot where neck meets shoulder and sinking his teeth in.

He doesn’t draw blood, but he sure as hell leaves a bruise, worrying it with lips and teeth until he’s sure it will be a nice, lurid shade of purple by morning.

Jason’s moans, no longer stifled, are high and sweet. They’re softer than Tim might have expected. He adores them. He can’t help but kiss over Jason’s cheeks—smiling indulgently at the way Jason tips his face up to receive them.

He steadies his grip on Jason’s thigh. Rolls his hips, just to test—delights when Jason mewls, clenching tight-tight-tight around him in response. A fresh pair of tears roll down his cheeks, dripping into the puddle of drool on his neck.

Tim presses a little firmer on his tongue—and then he fucks him.

Not fast and punishing, although he knows Jason takes that beautifully, but slow and deep; rolling his hips in a way he knows will leave him a little sore tomorrow. It’s worth it for the way Jason responds. His cries are so beautiful—and each and every one of them is for Tim. Because of Tim.

All the praise he’d held back before tumbles from him now. “Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect. S-sound so pretty. Wanna keep you like this all the time, split open on my fingers, my cock. Nn—” Tim’s hips stutter as Jason clenches around him. His breath catches, too. “A-and— shit. You’re so— You’re gorgeous. J-just— All I wanna do is w-worship you.”

Jason’s cock is twitching. Precome drips onto his belly; pearly liquid beading on his hair, shining on his skin.

“U-unh.” Tim lifts his leg a little higher; angling his hips to thrust deeper, the head of his cock bumping right up against Jason’s prostate. Jason mewls again. His body is shaking. Tim can feel his own legs starting to tremble.

“F-f— Jason,” he gasps. “Baby. You’re so good for me. T-take me so well.”

He squeezes Jason’s thigh before letting go, slipping his hand under where their bodies meet. He waits until he bottoms out—and then he presses two fingers against Jason’s perineum.

Jason shouts. His hips buck, cock spasming as come paints his chest and belly. His walls clamp around Tim’s cock like a vice. Tim switches to short, shallow thrusts, fucking Jason through his orgasm. His own is close at hand—there’s a part of him that wants to pull out, stroke himself until he adds to the mess painting Jason’s body, but. He won’t. He’ll leave his claim deep inside Jason, the way he’s earned.

Jason loosens after a moment, but his walls are still spasming, like they’re milking Tim’s cock. It leaves him breathless.

“Nn— Jay— So beautiful,” Tim praises. Jason’s expression is one of utter bliss. Tim keeps fucking him—faster, now, using Jason’s body to chase his own pleasure. Jason makes encouraging noises beneath him; gripping Tim’s ass, pulling him forward, deeper, kneading the muscle with his fingers.

With that kind of attention, it doesn’t take long for Tim to spill, body bowing forward, Jason’s name on his lips.

His hips move shallowly, fucking Jason through the aftershocks. Come trickles out, onto the sheets—it makes Jason shiver, whine. Tim rubs his side soothingly, easing his legs off his shoulders and pulling out slowly. More come spills. The sight of his hole clenching just about does Tim in.

He swallows hard. Slips his thumb from Jason’s mouth. Jason whines at that too. So needy. Tim loves it.

“Shh-hh. I’m not going far, babe,” he reassures. He doesn’t, either; barely has the energy to shift over a few inches so he can collapse beside him. Jason snuggles into him immediately. Tim kisses his forehead, wrapping his arms around him. “I love you,” he murmurs.

“L’ve y’ too,” Jason mumbles, nuzzling into him.

Tim knows they can’t stay like that long. The mess will start to dry soon, and stick, and— He knows neither of them have any interest in waking up like that.

But for now… 

He closes his eyes and basks in the warmth of Jason beside him.

[samandcolbyownme]

hiii! i don't know if my question went through lol because ive been having some problems with that lately. i was just wondering what your wills and won'ts are. will you write dark stuff (non con, dub con, stalker, kidnapping, etc)? pretty much what won't you write? ily and your work!

-🍉

I started to reply and then I totally forgot about it. But i finally got around to finishing it.

I’m going to add a read more label just because there’s going to be some triggering phrases that might not be comfortable for anyone who may stumble upon this.

I’ll come back and update this with anything else I think of, but as of right now this what I will and won’t write about.

I’m a pretty open person, so I don’t really think there isn’t much I wouldn’t be okay to write, but four things I am NOT comfortable writing about and will not write for are

Miscarriages, anything with children (you know what I mean), SA, and self harm.

The non con, I’ve thought about it, and come to figure out that I’m not okay writing non consensual stuff, even if it’s like a role play thing.

The dub con, yes, but it probably wouldn’t be anything drastic, I’d probably write it with a background of sexual tension, reader and other, are super drunk and wanting to do it, but don’t realize it until the next morning that they actually did do it.

As for kidnapping and stalking, after writing Obession, i think that’s the farthest I’d go - if you haven’t read Obsession, I suggest reading it, it’s ghostface inspired.

Basically, I’m not comfortable with it being full blown non-consensual or torture, just because this is my first SnC blog and I want to keep it a clean type of filthy if you know what I mean.

I’m also not at all comfortable writing the adult/child role play. That’s 100% a NO.

I also wanted to throw in that I am 10 years clean from self harm and that is why I will not write about that topic. I haven’t gotten any requests mentioning it, and I don’t think I would, but I just wanted to put it out there because I’ve seen some one shots [not in the SnC fandom] where people have requested that the person of their choice comforts reader struggling with self harm and scars, and although I see the gesture behind it, that’s just not something I would like to write for.

I’m sorry if that made absolutely no sense and/or was all over the place. I tried my best to explain how I feel about writing each specific topic. If there is any other topic I have missed from the anon and if you want my input on anything specific before you request, just send me an anon. I’ll answer and then I’ll update this post!

Just remember, there isn’t anything wrong with sending a request. If I don’t feel comfortable writing it, I’ll just let it sit in my inbox.

And I promise I am not judging because trust me..

We all have our things 😉

I love you guys! Thank you for reading! 🖤

P.s. no one in my life knows I have this blog, so you’re safe with me

[darkicedragon]

Fanfic: Pace the Night [Brush Out]

Fandom: Noblesse Summary: Frankenstein finds a way to pass the time with M-21 during the full moon. Rating: PG-13 Genre: General Word count: 3,347 Total word count: 38,247 Status: Work in progress Other parts in the collection

Frankenstein paused as he headed to the kitchen one night, listening out. There. Quick footsteps on the floor above.

While Frankenstein had to get used to another person in his house, he would have expected M-21 to be quieter, considering the circumstances M-21 was used to.

Hm... Frankenstein headed for the stairs in case M-21 needed something.

The movement stopped as soon as he reached the stairs. "M-21?" he called out. "It's just me, Frankenstein."

No response.

Frankenstein frowned. That was also unlike M-21.

He saw movement as he got to the landing and - ah. Frankenstein stopped. That would explain the discrepancies.

There was a silver furred werewolf on the landing, long limbs barely covering scars across his entire body, and a small scar slashing down the right side of his snout.

"Hello, M-21," Frankenstein said, gauging his reaction. M-21 was smaller than Frankenstein would have expected, only slightly taller than when he wasn't transformed.

M-21 backed up with a snarl and it was a wonder he didn't crash though the balcony doors.

While M-21's fur had puffed up with his ears flat, the biggest tell for how M-21 was feeling was his tail tucked between his legs.

"Do you recognise me, M-21?" Frankenstein tried again, his voice soft and calm. Muzaka still recognised Frankenstein in the moments when he lost his senses, but it had been a long time since their first meeting and just because Muzaka was able to, that didn't mean M-21 could.

M-21 snarled again, lunging forward half a step before retreating.

Except.

M-21 wasn't looking at Frankenstein.

He was staring at Frankestein's lab coat.

Oh. Of course.

Frankenstein should have realised M-21 would have bad connotations burned into him regarding scientists lab coats, but Frankenstein had just left the lab and had forgotten he was still wearing it.

"You aren't in the Union," Frankenstein said, slipping the lab coat off.

He wasn't sure M-21 heard him, M-21's eyes focused on the coat as Frankenstein draped it over the banister.

As soon as Frankenstein let it go M-21 relaxed, looking back at him, his ears slightly higher.

"Now then," Frankenstein said, "shall we try that again, M-21?"

M-21 focused on him, ears pricked. He stayed where he was, but he didn't back away either.

"Do you remember who I am?"

M-21 studied him, but didn't respond.

Hm. Time to try something else. Frankenstein sat at the top of the stair, his back to M-21. He wasn't sure if it would work, if M-21 would be curious enough or be willing to approach, but he didn't know M-21 very well at the moment.

All he could do was wait and see.

"I suppose I could see if you were more interested if I brought you snacks," Frankenstein said to empty air, filling the silence, "but I'd rather not leave you alone. You seem to at least tolerate my presence right now and I'd rather not worry you any more than needed if I were to leave." Considering how...M-21 had first arrived into his house.

Frankenstein resisted turning his head around when he heard footsteps slowly approaching.

"Though would you like to come with me if I were to make you something to eat?" The transformation would be draining M-21, especially if this was his first time.

M-21 didn't answer, sniffing around Frankenstein's head. Frankenstein didn't move, letting M-21 investigate.

M-21 sat back with a whine.

...Yes, Frankenstein wouldn't be the one M-21 wanted to see.

He slowly lifted his hand, a growl snapping out of M-21's throat for a second. When Frankenstein didn't move, M-21 crept forward to sniff Frankenstein's hand.

And then pressed his snout into it. Frankenstein scratched there, like he was asked to, and M-21 huffed, relaxing into Frankenstein's touch.

M-21 wasn't as fine as he pretended to be, looking for someone who wouldn't return. Frankenstein didn't say that out loud, in case M-21 remembered in the morning and realised Frankenstein knew.

With each passing second, M-21 pressed harder and harder until he was leaning against Frankenstein's back, threatening to push Frankenstein or himself down the stairs if he slipped.

"Shall we pause this until we're in a less precarious position?" Frankenstein suggested.

"Hrr."

Frankenstein paused scratching M-21's snout to see what he would do.

M-21 pulled back with a whine.

One, two, and then a cold nose was sniffing at Frankestein's neck.

He chuckled, petting M-21's snout. "I was checking to see if you were listening. Let's go downstairs, hm?" He turned to look at M-21, who glanced away.

Frankenstein narrowed his eyes as he studied M-21, though he relaxed by the time M-21 looked back in case M-21 misinterpreted. Frankenstein wasn't angry at him, but now he had a closer look, he could see just how patchy M-21's fur was. There was far too much fur on the carpet to be normal shedding.

Well then. Frankenstein had another idea how to pass the time.

M-21 followed as Frankenstein walked downstairs to the kitchen, grabbing a number of snacks that he'd seen M-21 having and then headed for the living room.

He set the snacks on the table, but as Frankenstein left them to go to his set of drawers, M-21 continued to follow him. Companionship more valued than food then.

When Frankenstein retrieved the brushes from a drawer, M-21 pulled back with a growl. Interesting.

"Do you recognise brushes-" Surprising as Frankenstein didn't envision Union scientists using them. "-or because they're something new?"

Frankenstein walked back to the table and sat down next to it, putting the brushes down next to him.

M-21's growl tapered off, though he stayed where he was.

Frankenstein started spreading the snacks out, listening for the distinctive click of claws.

M-21 did approach, giving the brushes a wide berth.

Given the speed M-21 recovered and that he didn't give the brushes a second look, Frankenstein surmised M-21's reaction must have been because the brushes were new.

M-21 snapped up the bit of snack Frankenstein tossed towards him, getting closer and closer. Once M-21 was settled, Frankenstein reached for a brush.

M-21 glanced at his other hand, but re-focused on the hand giving him food.

When Frankenstein picked up the brush, M-21 froze, staring at it. While his nose twitched when Frankenstein held the snack under his nose, he didn't look away.

"I'm not going to hurt you with it," Frankenstein said, holding everything in place.

M-21 looked at Frankenstein's face and Frankenstein smiled.

"Yes, it's me, Frankenstein."

M-21 took the snack, still staring at him.

Frankenstein continued the habituation of the brush, slowly raising it until M-21 was comfortable and Frankenstein touched it to M-21's shoulder.

M-21 flinched back and then whined.

"It's just a touch, see?" Frankenstein held his hand and the brush in the air. "I'll be brushing your fur if you let me. I'm told it feels like grooming, though I'm not sure if you know what that is or how it feels."

M-21 relaxed at his voice and leaned forward again.

It took a while longer for M-21 to allow a full swipe and even that was enough for the brush to come away fully laden with fur.

This was going to take a while.

Though they did have the whole night, if M-21 tolerated it.

* * * M-21 woke up slo- He froze. His pillow was wrong. Lower. Warmer. Breathing.

He wasn't in his room, naked with a blanket over him. Tiles under him.

Not the Union. It was too warm to be the Union and it didn't smell like a lab eith-

"Good morning, M-21."

Well, fuck. That was Frankenstein's voice, directly above him. That's whose thigh he was leaning on?

M-21 was surprised Frankenstein had left him there - Frankenstein was easily strong enough to push him off from...whatever the fuck had happened last night.

Shit.

M-21 remembered going to bed. Nothing else.

"I take it from your silence," Frankenstein said, "that you have no recollection of last night.

And he'd been so stunned he still hadn't moved. M-21 jerked up, the blanket pooling around his lap. "Sorry." They were in the living room, surrounded by ...M-21's hair? But he didn't have that much on his head and he ran his hand through his hair to double-check. It was still there, with no weird patches.

There was even a huge collected clump that looked the same size as M-21 next to Frankenstein.

"For not remembering? I wouldn't have expected you to."

That made M-21 pause. "You wouldn't have expected me to?" Did Frankenstein know what happened?

He heard Frankenstein stand up and stretch. How long had he been sleeping on Frankenstein's lap? "Would you rather get some clothes first and then we can-"

"No." What difference did wearing fucking clothes make? "What's happening to me?"

"Very well." A creak of the sofa. "Here then."

M-21 stood up, taking the blanket with him. He didn't have body shyness, but he wasn't going to put his bare ass on Frankenstein's sofa. There were empty plates all over the table too.

"Is this the first time you've lost a night?"

He'd lost fucking everything, but that wasn't what Frankenstein was talking about.

Frankenstein specified a night? When M-21 glanced at the window, he could see the sky lightening up, the sun starting to rise in the distance. "...Yeah." M-24 had never mentioned this before. How much had his body started breaking down? Did he need pills again?

"I see." Frankenstein paused for only a second. "It would appear your heart is affecting you more than I assumed it would."

M-21's stomach dropped and he stared at Frankenstein. He hadn't even considered the possibility his werewolf heart would change him.

"You fully transformed last night and you became instinctual."

Shit. "So you had to restrain me the entire night." That made sense. Frankenstein was strong enough to do that and that would explain why there was fur everywhere. His fur. His werewolf fur.

"Hm? Does it feel like I did that?"

Did it...? M-21 rubbed his wrists. To be honest, he felt the most rested in all the time he could remember. The only thing holding him down when he'd woken up was the blanket. He picked at it, his skin normal and unbruised as far as he could tell. "No," he admitted. "Then what the fuck did happen?"

"I realised you were shedding and I spent the night brushing it out while you leaned against my leg."

M-21 waited for Frankenstein to continue. He didn't. "That's it?"

Frankenstein smiled. "Yes."

...That was another explanation for why fur was everywhere. He just let Frankenstein do that? ...Of course he had.

"Okay." Because what the fuck else was he meant to say? He looked around the room, seeing his fur starting to clump up as they moved around. "I should-"

"Rest," Frankenstein completed for him. "You have been transformed for the entire night - what you need right now is to regain all your energy. I can clean this up in the meantime."

M-21 exhaled, relaxing. "I - thanks. I'll-" Words failed him as he stumbled to his feet, dragging the blanket behind him.

He reached his room and took in his bedsheets in disarray, his torn clothes all over the floor.

He had no recollection of any of this. Nothing.

It was like someone else had tried to ransack his room.

M-21 made his way to his bed, feeling as though... As though he'd spent the entire night transformed, with barely enough energy to drag his feet forward and breathe.

He flopped onto his bed and was immediately asleep.

* * * "Is this going to happen often?" M-21 asked the next night to Frankenstein in the kitchen, because that was how long it took for him to fucking wake up again.

This time he'd missed an entire day because of his fucking heart.

"The-" M-21's face twisted as he tried to say the words, that he had to acknowledge that this was real. "-transformation."

Was it eventually going to happen every night and he still wouldn't remember anything? Would the werewolf instincts eventually take over and he would never come back?

The fact Frankenstein didn't say anything straight away, continuing to cook and not fully looking at M-21, was answer enough.

"I can't give you a definite answer," Frankenstein said with a slowness to his words that said he was picking every word carefully, placing his spatula down, "as you are a unique case. How your heart interacts with the rest of your DNA is...hm, to be seen."

Which meant his heart hadn't finished changing him.

Fucking great.

* * * The results of Frankenstein's most recent research had gone well and he left the lab, taking in a deep breath - as he heard something moving upstairs.

A second passed and Frankenstein heard the distinctive footfalls of something trying to move on all fours, but not smoothly like a quadruped.

...Ah. Frankenstein made a note on his phone as he walked up the stairs. "M-21?"

Another full moon. Pure blooded werewolves weren't affected by the lunar cycle, but if M-21 was then he was possibly like a mutant changed by a noble's contractee, taking on different characteristics than where their power originated from.

A silver furry face appeared at the banister as Frankenstein ascended, making him smile. It would appear that M-21 trusted him more and was more comfortable in the house compared to last month.

M-21 even approached him before Frankenstein reached the landing, ears pricked and tail wagging softly at the tip.

"Do you recognise me now, hm?" Frankenstein said.

M-21 stepped forward, sniffing around Frankenstein's face. While M-21 looked at Frankenstein's hand when he raised it, M-21 didn't flinch back when Frankenstein ran his hand through M-21's fur.

It was bushier now with less obvious bald patches.

Frankenstein's hand still came away covered in fur and Frankenstein tutted. M-21's fur had changed, so the winter coat should have already gone. "I'm not sure how long you will stay in this state, but it looks like we'll continue brushing your fur tonight."

M-21 followed him, tail wagging harder now.

Did M-21 enjoy being brushed?

* * * Tao slowed his typing, turning his head towards his door. That sounded like...

Well, he wasn't sure since he'd been focused on work, but it was something out of place for the noises he'd gotten to in the house.

The house. It still sounded weird. The house. Not the safe house. Not shelter. Not camp.

The house.

Maybe even 'his' house. He and Takeo would have to see if they really could stay here, but M-21 seemed to trust Frankenstein and that said a lot.

Anyway. Distractions aside, there was a potential intruder in the house and maybe he should set up cameras later if this really did become 'his' house.

Tao got up, still listening out for any more noises.

Footsteps down the stairs and... huh. It was two feet, but they were heavy and didn't sound right in a way Tao couldn't place.

He peeked out his door and...

Oh.

Yeah. That'd explain it.

Tao could see a furry back of someone going down the stairs. Not furry in a bear hairy - but kinda except in a werewolfy actual fur kind of way, topped off with triangular ears and a fluffy tail to boot.

M-21's door was ajar and Tao checked, knowing what he'd find.

A neatly made bed that hadn't been slept on, clothes folded neatly on M-21's desk.

Ooor maybe not.

But that could be why definitely-transformed M-21 had walked down the stairs instead of howling at the moon or being destructive. M-21 was pretty quiet anyway so maybe that was why his werewolf state was the same.

Tao followed after M-21, hearing the living room door click open.

"Oh?" Tao heard Frankenstein's voice from inside. "You brought your own brushes and want to try them? Let's see them."

That was an entirely different tone Frankenstein was using compared to when he was fighting Dr Aris. It was close to how he sounded when M-21 asked for Tao and Takeo to be allowed to stay in the house though.

Should he go before he was found out? This was just between M-21 and Frankenstein. Just sneak back to-

"You can come in, Tao," Frankenstein said in a louder voice and Tao cringed.

Eek. Caught.

"Ehehe, hey Boss," Tao said, poking his head into the living room. Weirdness 1: Frankenstein sitting cross-legged on the floor. Weirdness 2: werewolf M-21 with his recogniseable scar if the silver fur wasn't evidence enough curled up against Frankenstein's thigh. Weirdness 3: a thick brush in Frankenstein's hand as he brushed out M-21's fur.

Then again, Tao didn't know what was normal in this house, so maybe he was the weird one. Takeo said so enough times. And Frankenstein and M-21 seemed to be acting like this was normal.

M-21 sighed at another pass of the brush, pressing up against it.

"Awww," Tao couldn't help but say, stepping in to get a better look, "you look so cute!" M-21 would kill him for saying it, and he'd left his phone upstairs too!

"I'm sure he would feel mortified if he knew you said that," Frankenstein said dryly, turning the brush over to pull out a handful of loose fur. Where had all that fur come from? It had looked empty when Frankenstein started.

Oh. Wait. Tao ran through Frankenstein's words again. "He doesn't remember what happens on these nights?" Was it a full moon? He'd have to check.

Frankenstein shook his head. "I trust you won't take advantage of this? The fact he hasn't negatively reacted to your presence says quite a lot."

"Yeah, I won't." Tao joked around but this was different, and the passing comments M-21 made about his abilities was starting to make a bit more sense.

M-21 lifted his head and then turned around. A paw hit a brush, making it spin out towards Tao. M-21 looked up at Tao.

"You don't have a werewolf translator, do you?" M-21's gaze was like he was trying to telepathically tell Tao his thoughts but Tao certainly wasn't receiving anything.

Frankenstein chuckled. "He wants you to brush him as well."

He did have a translator! "Really?" Tao picked up the brush near his feet and walked over.

"His undercoat was shedding when he first came here," Frankenstein said as Tao started brushing. M-21's fur was stiffer than it looked, the fur thick. "Most of it is gone now so he doesn't need as much brushing, but I think he enjoys it."

Tao's brush was full of soft fur when he pulled it free and he added that to Frankenstein's already growing pile. "How much fur was there if this is 'mostly gone'?"

"Enough that the pile in the morning was the same size as M-21."

Tao's eyes widened and he whistled, looking between M-21 and the pile. Frankenstein did that every time?

"Well, you've got an extra set of hands to help now, Boss!" Tao said, brushing again.

* * * M-21 didn't wake up alone, someone's arms splayed across his waist.

His heart lurched for a second, but it was the wrong shape for M-24, too bony. The wrong smell.

It wasn't Frankenstein because he'd never woken up to Frankenstein in his own bed and this was definitely his own bed.

He opened one eye a crack and saw black hair.

Tao.

Last night was the full moon; he should have expected Tao to find out immediately.

Tao made a grumbling sound, his arm tightening to a hug. "Morn'."

And he should have expected that Tao wouldn't care what he was or what he was becoming. To Tao, this was how M-21 had always been.

"Morning," M-21 said, closing his eyes again.

M-21 didn't know if he would lose more of his humanity, but the full moons hadn't gotten worse since he'd started transforming during them, and he wasn't dealing with them alone.

[not-so-anonymous-scotch]

pin!

hi. i am Anonymous_Scotch on ao3 and @single-malt-scotch on tumblr. just made a blog to seperate things mainly bc i kept this a kinda secret, may cross post some fics but thats kind of it! feel free to send fic specific questions here.

~~~

i mostly write hermitcraft, mindcrack, (third) life smp. i really don't watch that many people so it mostly stick to what i know (i came from mindcrack so, mostly them). i have no plans to expand to other mcyt people outside of those mentioned but i have written for these fandoms in the past under different name(s).

in regards to that as well, i am pretty picky on how i write this kinda thing. i dont indulge in any headcanons or theories other than my own and i dont really ship (in a traditional way ig). usually i imply that the world is a 'game' being played, but never actually write outside of the game (irl). i have a lot of my own "rules" for how it can work so, you can probably add it all up to get ideas on how my universe idea functions.

you can send requests or suggestions, but keep reading below to know what people i may or may not write!

what i LOVE writing:

mindcrack! old smp stuff!! in general

death games, uhc, life series... the tension is fun

topics or feelings i can explore and explain in weird ways

pairs/teams i enjoy most: ethubs, keralis & bdubs, keralis & xb, nebtho, single malt scotch, team canada, DOOKE, bookurt

definitely can write:

most of mindcrack. but for hc setting...

bdubs

etho

tentative yes to writing (i know them and watch them, but havent written then a ton so):

grian

scar

keralis

tango

doc

zedaph

Xb

cleo

joe hills

maybe's: (depends. probably wont write them as the main character though)

anyone not in the yes lists. honestly theres just a lot of ppl i dont watch and dont think about hard-- it may change in the future who i Could be willing to write so dont be afraid to ask

subjects??

can write angsty things, hurt/comfort (may not define it the way some of yall do...), a little fluff perhaps- but i do like to be funny and complicated. i dont like super fluffy gooey cutesy stuff either, my 'fluff' just means i dont get super deep. sometimes i lean on humor, sometimes i dont... depends on the vibes. i like to get philosophical and meta at times too.

in terms of "ships" i dont really consider myself a shipper despite using some of those tags ... its mostly done for exposure purposes- you will likely see most of what i write between pairs is either vague, non-romantic, or just suggestive. i like to play into the humorous flirting they actually do, the suggestive jokes, or whatever else. i like to bring up ships in a joking manner (ex. situations that ppl jokingly interpret as suggestive when its not, playful comments about being a 'couple' etc). so when i normally write, its not on my mind in a typical way? but it can be suggestive enough i may tag it as such. i will take some requests along those lines, but i wont write pairs im not familiar with.

i may answer requests in drabbles. if i like it a lot, a full fic. i may answer the asks themselves, or i may not- it depends on how closely i feel i followed a suggestion!

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Scripting: Many Alike

After a rather heated battle between Bently Forceloyed and Benjamin in the expansive dreamscape shared by Boyfriends, Benjamin backed up, worried for Bently.

Benjamin: I get you're upset, but hurting me isn't going to resolve your problems!

Bently: You're just saying that to break me, aren't you? You're saying that just like EVERY illusion that pathetic curse threw at me to crush my hopes!

Benjamin: H-Hey. I'm the REAL Benjamin. Not an illusion, not some tactical hope-crusher. Would I really be trying to help you if I was fake?

Bently: I... I guess not, huh.

Benjamin: You... must've been through a lot in your world, huh? If you need to, please explain what went on. I'll understand and I'll offer my support.

Bently: A-Alright, then. I'll explain it for you...

Bently's storyline started during More than One Universe.

Bently: If you're really my old self, you remember the whole push to cure all those interdimensional evils, right?

Benjamin: I do, yeah.

Bently:

Alright, so, that attempt to possess you from that horrible Puhoi curse? Well, I got off worse. I was forced to watch everybody I loved and cared for die, and I was isolated alone in my mind with no salvation. I was given a second chance, yes, but I was forced to leave my universe and integrate into a completely new one, and a new name; Bently Forceloyed.

I wasn't alone there, though. On my way in, I met a sweet young kid named Livie, who was like a little brother to me, and I also met my new girlfriend, Isabella Fondsmith. I had a good life ahead of me, but it didn't change the fact that I was still stuck with that god-forsaken curse.

In my dreams... well, more like nightmares, given their nature... I met Audrey, who was stuck there as many more before him, and he eventually broke out into my apartment, still horribly scarred from it all. No matter what he said to me about the curse, I just could NOT see it as any "gift", and just didn't want to heed that call of heroism again.

I ended up getting school to meet new friends, got a rival out of Koda, who's quite akin to Pico, and me and Livie, who's really willing to help others just out of the goodness of his heart, had to look after Audrey consistently because of that curse. It got to the point that I got Audrey to the house of a younger friend named Otto for residence.

I f-feel that was my worst mistake ever, even after the time I stopped a war from breaking out... Audrey was really down when I saw him again after two months, and... and I felt like I had just d-dumped him! I have r-reconciled with him since, but... I feel a-ashamed to call myself a f-friend towards him, even if he doesn't look d-down on me for my actions...

Benjamin: H-Hey, Bently, you're NOT useless.

Bently: (tearing up) Y-Yes I am! I've been stuck in shame for s-so long that I CAN'T see any l-light at the end of the tunnel, OR t-take that first step to peace! (feeling down) T-Those illusions were right, w-weren't they...? I'm just weak, p-pathetic, unable to truly h-help a close one, a-and a walking piece of m-misery... (looking up glumly) I c-can't choose between living my l-life as I want to o-or needing a friend t-to rely on me for w-who knows how long...

Benjamin, concerned, walked up to Bently.

Benjamin: Bently, listen. I know how horribly you've having it at the moment, and I can still relate. The harsh truth is... a friend can't rely on you forever, though I'm sure Audrey understands. You've done the best you could for him, and I'm sure he couldn't ask for anything more from you.

Benjamin: Besides, you're a better person than you think you are, Bently, hero or not. Whatever aspirations you want in life, you CAN achieve it. You just have to take that first step to finding it, and you've got your friends there to support you through it.

Bently teared up, hugging his original counterpart tight while quietly sobbing.

Bently: I-I'm so sorry...

Benjamin: Hey. I got you, don't worry.

They parted their hug as Grace and Isabella arrived next to the two.

Bently: Wait, Isabella? Is that really you here?

Isabella: Of course it's me, Bently. After what happened before, I got worried.

Benjamin: Yeah, I forgot to mention; this dreamscape's shared by any Boyfriend's crush or supporting companion, too!

Grace: What happened?

Benjamin: Well, Bently here's been going through a lot in his universe, and he's been in self-loathing from it.

Isabella: Hey, Ben?

Bently: Yeah?

Isabella: I know you've been going through a lot in those three months, but hero or not, you've still got a happy life to live, especially after you and Audrey reconciled. Besides, no matter what, you'll always have friends like me around to help you!

Grace: She's right, Bently. You've got so much ahead of you, so don't waste the opportunities you have.

Bently: Thanks... all of you. Heh, I feel a lot better after all of that. I'm sorry about the misunderstanding there, Benjamin.

Benjamin: Nah, it's all good! I'm kinda used to it.

Grace: So, what's your new home like, Bently?

Bently: Honestly, it's just amazing. I can show you these pictures of me, Isabella and our companions while we talk about it. I won't do it too long, though. I am gonna have to wake up shortly.

Benjamin: That's alright. It's been great meeting you, Bently. And besides, maybe one day we could meet in person!

Isabella: Hehe, that'd be wonderful!

And with that, they got to talking about Bently's new home in Dimension URB-2023, showing these pictures along the way:

Bently himself (the swap-in for BF)...

Isabella (based around GF, to idolising Bently's singing voice and becoming his girlfriend)...

Livie Vernal (based on Skid, being a cheerful child who's always there for Bently)...

Koda Terrafirm (based on Pico, a government agent trainee who's Bently's friendly rival in their universe)...

Otto Maypole (based on Pump, loves spring and is Livie's best kid friend)...

...and Bently's school teacher, Aiobhe Goodwin.

(All pics made with Picrew)

[alienorstyx]

A Night in Paris

Precedent chapters: 4, 5

Chapter 6: Morning

The soft rays of the sun caressed the skin of France, which turned in her sheets. Her body didn't have clothes to hide her nudity, she was still sticky due to the activities of the past evening . At her side, her lover slept deeply, he had one of his hands touching the thigh of France. She slowly opened her grey eyes, which were slightly blinded by the sun's rays. France groaned as she got up but she fell back because of the USSR who captured her to take her in his arms. She sighed as he put his head against her neck, covering her neck with kisses. France smiled, and turned to kiss the lips of the USSR . While they were kissing, the USSR began to caress the body of France again, appreciating each of the curves of its body . Looking at his lover's neck he noticed a very thin scar of circular shape. USSR began to cover it with kisses, France noticing that he had seen her scar, decided it was time to stop their little game . With a little smile, she decided to leave her bed completely naked and went to her bathroom.

The morning passed quietly, USSR had left the young woman before lunch time. He had to meet important people in a French gourmet restaurant. After he left the apartment. A furtive shadow passed down the stairs and rang at the doorbell. France already knew who it was and she went to open the door to him with all the nonchalance she had.

United Kingdom was standing there, still wearing his clothes from the day before, he seemed to have regained some colors and his voice was more settled.

"My dear France, we must immediately discuss what is happening."

Without a word, France let him into her apartment, the two countries settled in the dining room. France set the table while the United Kingdom, told her the latest news.

"Last night, I wanted to warn you that Third Reich was missing. And that America wanted everyone who was her ally to give him the latest information, if we had any , of course."

"Very well, I will gladly tell him  the bare minimum of what I know."

"You know where he is, don't you? " Said the UK, drinking a glass of water. France did not answer immediately as she went to her refrigerator to find something to compose their meal. She returned with her arms loaded with different boxes, which she gently placed on the table. United Kingdom could see that she had bite marks on her fine neck , she still wore her very fine ribbon of white cloth .

"He did not let you rest , last night . "Remarked United Kingdom by opening one of the boxes that contained pieces of smoked chicken.

"No, but that's help me to  forget what happened during the war. I think he's pretty good in bed."

"I wonder, how long will you stay with him before you get tired?" Asked United Kingdom , serving France who was busy opening the other boxes filled with vegetables.

"I don't know. You seem to miss me already? "Replied with a smile, France.

"Well, of course I miss you. Already, during the war, I thought I would never see you alive again.You're gonna have to explain to me one day how you got to be in two different places at the same time."

"A woman has her little secrets. Moreover, I never reveal all my cards. You must be one of the few countries still in this world, who knows many of my great secrets."

"In the rare moments when you have been willing to confide in me."

"What do you want, I've always been like that, I'm not going to change now."

'All I see is that, as always, you arouse temptation and desire in other countries. And many have bitten their fingers at wanting to possess you entirely. I am surprised that America is not tempted to have you."

"Why? He looks at me as if I was the last slut or favorite in vogue."

The United Kingdom had to refrain from laughing when he heard the words of France and the disgusted pout she had when she imagined America making love to her.

"Besides, you know very well that I always consider him as a capricious child."

"Yes, yes, I know. But France, you still hate him for what happened to...."

"Shut up! I don't want to hear any more about it. The past is now over. And it will never be returned to me or come back to me. I looked for her in the other world for a long time and never found her. All I have left of her is her portrait when she was a young girl and some of her stuff from her childhood.

The rest of the meal was in silence. United Kingdom, did not recount the telephone conversation he had with America. He left her at about one o'clock in the afternoon.

France did her dishes, then went to her sofa with a bottle of wine, which she sobbed before falling asleep, alone.

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || every client is different, with different needs; but this client is, in every way, exceptional.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (cnc), dom/sub relationship, ‘mistress’ title, pain kink, cockwarming, orgasm denial/control, use of a cockring, slapping, objectification/degradation, some angst and hurt/comfort, crying after sex, touchstarved!bucky

new parts posted on thursdays!  join the taglist here

"And you can promise complete and total discretion?” the deep and husky voice on the other end of the line repeated, low enough that it was almost a whisper.

You laughed a little. “Of course,” you answered. Most clients were serious about privacy, but this guy was next level. He must be famous, you thought to yourself, or married. Or both.

But just as much as your clients wanted to keep you separate from their personal life, you would rather they know nothing about who you are. Of course it was always a risk, since nobody could hide their face and you had to work out of your apartment, but you did what you could to keep your job just that— a job.

You told your friends you were a consultant, because people didn’t question that. Sure, it was hard to keep up the lie sometimes when you got last-minute bookings and had to cancel plans, but it was worth it for the money these men were willing to pay.

And this new guy? He was shelling out all kinds of cash, on a long set of conditions. Including an NDA. You wouldn’t have given him up either way, but if the contract made him feel better (and made him pay more) then you were happy to sign it.

“So it’s all anonymous, then? No ID, no credit card…?” he pressed.

“I mean, if cash is easier for you—”

“It is.”

You were starting to worry that this was a major red flag, as if he didn’t want to be traceable back to you at all. It was almost a dealbreaker, until you glanced down at the legal pad you’d written his offer on and remembered that you couldn’t afford to turn him down. “Then cash is fine,” you decided, making a note to yourself to have 911 already dialed when he came by in case his aversion to ID was really about a desire to get away with something.

“When can we start?”

“Um, well the soonest I can do is tomorrow at seven” you explained.

"Great, I'll be there," he answered firmly, apparently about to hand up.

“Hey, hey, slow down!” you chuckled. “Can I at least get a name?”

“I didn’t think we needed to do names.”

“We don’t… but if you’re willing, I’d like to know something to call you.”

“James,” he answered after a tense pause. “James is fine.”

“Alright, James, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Upon opening the door, you instantly noticed three things about him: he was tall, he was big, and he was sexy.

You had sort of been hoping that his appearance wouldn’t match his voice, but it did, and it was going to make this so much harder.  Maybe easier in a few ways, but overall worse.  It was important that you didn’t get too emotionally invested with your clients.

His eyes were dragging over you like he was just as taken aback.  Which was odd, because he must have seen your picture online before he called you.  

“James,” you greeted. “Glad you made it.”

You stepped aside to let him enter, guiding him to take a seat in your living room.  Before clients came by, you hid any signs of life and kept the space as neutral as possible, which was why the only furniture was the white couch he sat on, the black chair across from it, and a glass table in between.

You sat in the black chair and crossed your legs, noticing with pride the way his eyes studied your every move.

“It’s important that we have a discussion about boundaries and limits before this goes any further," you explained sternly, and he nodded slightly.  "Tell me what you do and don't want."

“Uh, well, I guess I was just looking for… somebody who can administer, um, discipline… you know, someone who sets rules and enforces them.  But could also be kind of, uh, sweet I guess, to.  Not too sweet, just… not too mean either."

You smiled a little; he sounded right up your alley.  "I can do that."

"You should know I… I have a… disability.  My left arm it's, um, it's a prosthetic."

"How would you like me to accommodate that?"

"Just don't say anything about it, please.  Treat it like a normal arm.  And, uh, if you could ignore my scars, too…" he added awkwardly.

"Of course,” you nodded, “I would never want to make you feel insecure."

"Well, I mean, I'm not against degradation," he admitted sheepishly, making you smile a little.

"Right: that's different.  Anything else you're distinctly not against?"

“I can take a lot of pain,” he explained matter-of-factly.  “However much you think I can handle, double it.  I wanna feel it.”

You could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying: I wanna feel something.

“Okay, we can do that.  You’ve probably heard of the color system," you posited.

“I haven’t.”

"Oh."  That threw you off slightly… how new was he to this scene?  “Well, it’s traditionally green, yellow, red; like a stoplight.  Red means stop.  Yellow means proceed with caution.  Green means continue.”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Too simple for me, in fact.  I have my own version: ‘red’ will make me stop what I’m doing, but only ‘black’ ends the scene entirely.  And then there’s ‘blue.’  That means you want more.”

He smirked a little; a strong show of emotion compared to his stoicism so far.  “I think I’ll use that one most.”

“Just don’t be afraid to use anything else, alright?  I’d never be disappointed in you for safewording, or even just needing a break.”

He nodded.  “Can we get to it then?”

“You’re rushing as always,” you laughed.  “I’m not charging you for this part.  We have plenty of time— don’t we?”

“Yes, but—” he sighed.  “You look really… I walked in and, I guess I’m just really looking forward to this.”

You almost would’ve smiled at the compliment but you thankfully suppressed it.  “And what is it that you’re looking forward to?  What do you want me to do to you?”

His jaw tightened as he looked away from you.  “Um, there’s a lot.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Ropes.  Strongest you have.  I can buy you stronger ones if you need them, for next time…”

He’s already thinking about next time?  He’s already thinking about buying me things?

“Alright, I can do ropes: wrists and ankles?  Or more than that?”

He seemed a bit confused by that question.  “Is there anywhere else?”

“Torso,” you enumerated, “neck—” you stopped because you saw his reaction to that, and it made you smile a bit.  “Okay, so maybe the neck is something to try.  Do you like being choked?”

“I… I don’t know…” he sighed.

“Have you ever been choked before?”

“Not… sexually...”

You felt your eyebrows rise, but didn’t want to press; a story for another time, perhaps.

“We’ll have to discuss silent safewords and signals so you can tap out, but if you’d be willing to try it—”

“Yes.”

You laughed.  “Eager, are we?”

He swallowed, and you wondered if you shouldn’t have let your ‘dom voice’ slip out in that moment… but he looked so good flustered like that.  He adjusted himself slightly in his chair and you hoped he was already hard.  And with that thought in mind, you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him further.

“Do you like being called certain things?” you asked, voice lower as you leaned forward.  “How do you feel about ‘pet’?” 

He almost kept up his poker face, but his gaze faltered at the same time he moved in his chair again.  “Um, ‘pet’ is okay.”

“Baby boy?”

“Not really my speed,” he shrugged.

You slipped out of your chair and stood up, approaching him slowly as the click of your heels echoed across the tile.  He watched you with wide eyes and quickening breaths.

“What do you like?  Tell me,” you demanded, though you kept your tone light.

“Uh,” he paused, watching your hand as it rested on his leg, “I like… I like being called a good boy.”

You grinned as you pulled your hand away, watching him tense up with disappointment.  “I can do that,” you agreed, lifting his chin with a finger until he looked at you with those beautiful, desperate eyes, “if you actually are being a good boy for me.” “I will,” he promised quickly, “I’ll be so good.”

“Mmm, I bet you will,” you purred.  “So willing to please…”

“Tell me how,” he sighed as your hand trailed from his chin down to his chest, slipping under the loose collar of his henley and rubbing his chest.  “Tell me how to please you.”

“Well, for starters, I have a name, too: Mistress.”

He sighed like the wind had been knocked out of him, but nodded.

“And if I ask you a question, I expect you to answer ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.  Is that clear?”

“Uh-huh,” he agreed before suddenly correcting himself, “um, yes, Mistress.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” you frowned, “but further infractions will be punished.”

“Yes, Mistress; I’m sorry, Mistress,” he moaned, melting under your touch as your hand moved down to rub his thigh through his jeans.

“Now, just for fun,” you smiled, leaning down until your lips were nearly brushing his ear, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me, Mistress,” he sighed.

“But I am touching you.”

“Touch my… touch my cock," he clarified, adorably embarrassed. "It’s so hard for you…”

“We’ll get to that eventually.  Let’s go to the bedroom first, okay?”

However good he looked standing in your doorway half an hour ago, it was nothing compared to how he looked naked and hard and tied to your bed.

Yes, the prosthetic and the scars that attached it to his body were hard to ignore.  He had failed to warn you that it was metal, so you couldn’t hide the slight shift of your face when it caught the light; you hoped he didn’t think it was a look of judgment or disgust, because you truly didn’t think it was anything upsetting.  Maybe the scars were a little worrying… but they didn’t seem to bother him now, at least physically.

But truly, if anything was distracting about his body, it wasn’t the arm.  It was his muscles— no wait, it had to be his cock, right?  It’s tough to call: on one hand, his entire body was toned and hardened beyond the peak of human conditioning, his thick thighs making your mouth water already, his chiseled abs almost making you jealous; but on the other hand, between those lovely thighs and curving up against those perfect abs was a cock that rivalled anything you'd ever seen before, with a blue vein running up one side and a drip of precum rolling down the other.

You finally sauntered up to the bed and ran your fingers over the taught ropes, pretending to ignore him watching you impatiently.  It was almost hotter knowing that he could pull out of the ropes if he really wanted to.  More than most, he was choosing to submit to them and to you.

“How’s this knot feel?  Too tight?” you hummed, tugging the rope just beside his wrist and watching his hand move limply with it.

“No, it’s good.”

You stepped back to the foot of the bed and stripped slowly, peeling off your black dress to reveal a matching lace set underneath.  You left your heels on as you stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

Turning back to face him, James looked like he was all but drooling.  You could see in his eyes how much he wished the ropes weren’t holding him back so he could run his hands all over your body.

But you could tell he craved being denied what he wanted, by the way his cock flexed of its own volition.

You let yourself smile as you crawled your way up the bed and over his body, like a panther stalking its prey, and boy did he look ready to be devoured.

"Are you scared?" you asked quietly.  He shook his head.  "Are you ready?"

He nodded.  You sat up as you straddled him, positioned just right such that no part of you was really touching him, and watched with delight as he tugged against the ropes slightly to try to get closer.

"So needy," you grinned, somewhere between praising and scolding him.  Your fingers ghosted over his chest and he shivered; he asked you to treat his prosthetic like a normal arm, so you dragged your nails down the metal and watched his eyes flutter shut.  When you pulled your hand back and left him untouched again, he whined slightly.

“Aw, poor thing,” you pouted as you examined him, desperation emanating off of him in an invisible aura.  “Your cock is all red and leaking… it must hurt, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he groaned.

“What if I touch it a little?” you offered.

“Please…”

You traced your fingers lightly up and down his length, tickling the skin and giving him the least pressure that you could.  He whimpered and you chuckled mockingly.  “I said I’d touch it a little, sweet boy, are you not satisfied?”

He bucked up into your touch as best he could, causing you to pull your hand away.  “Baby, please—” 

You cut him off with a slap to the face, as hard as you could muster.

“Mistress!” he corrected with a whine.  “Mistress, please… please wrap your hand around it.”

“Around what?” 

“Around… my cock.  Stroke me, please…”

“All you had to do was ask,” you grinned, finally tightening your hand around him and moving slowly up and down the shaft.  His head fell back with a soft moan, just from that.  Your teasing had certainly helped get him this worked up, but you knew it wasn't just that… he was plenty sensitive all on his own, apparently.

It made your mouth water.

"Does this feel good, James?" you asked huskily.

"S-so good," he whimpered, "please can you… stroke it a little faster, please, Mistress…"

"Hmm, not yet," you decided, feeling him tense up beneath you.  "Relax," you instructed with a free hand rubbing his thigh gently.  

You continued to teasingly stroke his length, never quite giving him the pressure or speed he needed to get closer to his release, savoring every whimper and whine and sigh from him along with the satisfying weight of his cock against your palm.

It felt like you'd never get tired of wielding so much power in your hand.

"Please," he sighed, "I need more…"

"You want me to stroke you faster?" you pressed, already knowing that wasn't what he meant.  He shook his head and you grinned, leaning in closer but letting go of his cock. 

Slowly, you let the lace covering your core rub up against his shaft, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  "Ohhhhh," he moaned, "oh fuck, Mistress…"

You grinned and kept rocking against him, easily feeling the warmth of him through your panties— meaning he, in turn, could feel the warmth of you.  "How does it feel, baby?" 

"Good," he choked out, "really, really good… fuck, I want more, I need more, please…"

"Are you my good boy, James?" you asked in a low purr.  He nodded eagerly, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed nothing.  "Do you want to be inside me?" you finally whispered against his ear, letting a finger run lazily up his spine and feeling him shiver so hard it was more like he was convulsing.

"Please, Mistress, I'll do anything…"

You didn't touch all of your clients sexually, due in part to the fact that they usually wanted a lot more pain than pleasure.  You'd only had sex with one or two of them, and it wasn't a routine thing.  Before today you never would've imagined doing this with a first-time client, but to be completely honest… he was fucking hot.  The kind of guy you'd be spreading your legs for instantly if you weren't at work and he wanted to buy you a drink or grab lunch.  And he was here, at your disposal, begging you for more.  How could you say no?  

You pulled your panties aside and gripped his cock tightly to guide it to your entrance, studying his face twisted in anticipation before sinking down and watching him gasp and sigh all at once, somehow.

It took a lot of effort to hide your own pleasure when he was stretching you out so perfectly, but you managed to suppress the desire to moan and just smile at his fucked-out expression instead.

Finally, your hips met with his and you got to sit there and enjoy the look of dawning agony as he realized you were staying completely still.

“Move, please,” he sobbed, “oh god, Mistress, please move…”

“But I thought you wanted to be inside me?  Isn’t this what you asked for?”

He whined and tried to wiggle his hips; all that got him was two hard slaps to the face.  

“No whining,” you instructed through your teeth.  “Good boys don’t whine.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “‘m your good boy, I promise.”

“I know you are,” you grinned, “or at least, I know you can be.  Show me how good and patient you are.”

Reaching to the side a bit without getting off of him, you pulled a vibrator from your drawer.  His eyes went a little wide when he saw it, and you laughed.

"Don't worry, this isn't for you.  It's for me," you explained as you turned it on, inserting it between your body and his to touch the toy against your clit.  He winced as you sighed contentedly.  "Fuck, it feels good.  Can you feel it on your cock?"

"A… a little…" he hissed.

"I bet it feels good for you too," you posited, "but not good enough to make you come."

After a little pause, he nodded breathlessly.

"Good," you smiled.  "I just wanna come with your cock inside me.  I wanna know how it feels to get off with my favorite toy while being full of my newest toy."

"Fuck," he groaned.

"Do you like that, pretty boy?  Do you like me using your cock, being your Mistress' dumb little fucktoy?"

"Yes," he sobbed, hips shifting ever so slightly beneath you as he sought more stimulation from your flexing walls.  Shifting the vibe to hit right on your clit, you cried out— and he did too, at the feeling of you tightening around him.

"God, you love being Mistress' dildo, don't you?"

He nodded, biting hard on his lip until you worried he'd hurt himself.  He moaned again as another jolt of pleasure forced your channel to clench on his cock.

"You're making too much noise for a fucktoy, you need to be quiet."

He opened his mouth for a second, but closed it again and nodded instead.  

"You can do it yourself right?" you pressed, seeing him nod.  "You don't need me to gag that pretty mouth?" 

He whined but shook his head, keeping his lips pressed together.

That went on for a few more moments as you teased yourself with the vibe, hoping to draw this out for the sake of his struggle.  Wanting to up the ante, you took the vibe off your clit and turned it off for a moment.  "I think this would feel better with a little lube… will you get it wet for me, James?"

You brought the toy to his lips and he eagerly wrapped them around it, sucking lightly on the silicone with those pretty lashes resting on his cheeks.

"There you go, that's a good boy," you praised, pulling the toy from his mouth, "that's my good boy…"

"Yours…" he repeated weakly, "wanna be good for you, just for you…"

This time when you turned it on and pressed it to your clit again, you instantly gasped and felt your walls bare down on him; turning up the vibration, you actually moaned aloud and saw him wince.  "Oh, can you feel it now?" you asked tauntingly.  He bit his lip and nodded.

It really wasn't even intentional but you felt your hips start to rock, making him gasp as his eyes shot open.  For a guy who had been begging you to move not too long ago, he looked pretty overwhelmed by it now.

"Fuck, I'm gonna make myself come on your cock… do you wanna feel me come, baby?"

He seemed conflicted, which was exactly what you were going for.  You wanted him to struggle, just enough, between his need to satisfy himself and his desire to please you.  "I… I want to make you come, Mistress," he finally choked out, notably answering a slightly different question than the one you'd asked.  

You smiled and leaned in to whisper in his ear: "Are you afraid that if you feel me come around you, you won't be able to hold back?  That you might accidentally come inside me?"

He made a needy little groan and nodded.

"Don't worry, baby, I'm gonna help you," you promised sweetly, but of course as soon as he saw you grab a cockring from your drawer he changed his tune.

"N-no, Mistress, please," he begged with wide eyes, "I'll be good, just not that— don't put that on me."

You smirked and sat up, pulling off of him and slowly slipping the ring on his throbbing length as he quietly pleaded for mercy.  He winced when you pushed it down to the base of him, his cheeks burning hot red now.

"Is it a little too tight, baby?" you cooed, grinning when he nodded.  "Good."

You sank back down into him and let your hips grind on his, working your clit with the vibe and even kicking it up to the next highest setting.  He jolted beneath you, clearly feeling the vibrations strongly now, and you let the view of his beautifully broken facial expression egg on your own climax.

"Mm, I'm close, baby," you whispered, "just stay still and let Mistress use you like a good little boy."

He made a small noise through his teeth but seemed to manage okay, even when your walls began to pulse rhythmically around him and your head fell back, your free hand palming at your breast through the lace bra just to add that last little edge of sensation.

"Oh fuck, fuck," you moaned, "that's my good boy…"

You shakily pulled the vibe away and turned it off, still a little numb on your clit but feeling your channel still rippling slightly with aftershocks; he seemed to feel them in spite of their subtlety, if the panting breaths that filled his muscular chest rapidly were any indication.

As slow as you could manage, you pulled your body off of him and sat back on his legs to stare at his cock.  The remnants of your orgasm left plenty of lubrication to stroke it, focusing on the head which had turned almost purple now.

"M-Mistress," he groaned, writhing under your touch.

Amazingly, his cock was already flexing in your hand, and a growl of pride and hunger echoed in your chest.

“Oh fuck, can you come for me, James?” you moaned, pumping him so fast your hand was a blur.  “Can you be my good boy and come right through the cockring?”

“Yes,” he sobbed, “gonna come, Mistress, please—”

“Come right now,” you demanded, watching his face instantly fall slack as he spurted out onto his own chest and stomach, cock flexing and pulsing in your hands as his legs quivered and his hips thrusted wildly.

And the tears were flowing soon after.  You weren’t sure if it was sub drop or just the power of his release, but between weak sobs he whispered broken apologies.

“You did so good,” you cooed as you slipped off the ring and wrapped your arms around him, subtly trying to reach over to untie the ropes.  But you didn’t need to; he flexed his arms and the restraints popped like floss.  He embraced you in return as you let his head fall onto your chest.  “You’re so good, it’s okay,” you continued, stroking his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, breathing quickly and wetting you with his tears.

This, you realized, is what he had made you sign the contract to protect.  It wasn’t that he was excessively embarrassed about his sexual proclivities, but that this was his space to be soft, and weak, and broken.  Apparently he wasn’t ready for anyone else to know that he wasn’t steel all the way down.

“Shh, it’s okay… you’re okay…” you breathed, indulging him in this moment even though it was more intimate than you preferred to get with customers.  Aftercare was an important part of your job, certainly, but so was enforcing boundaries.

He began to soothe as you kissed his forehead gently, whispering well-deserved affirmations and praise.  As his breathing slowed and moved back to normal, he pulled back and looked up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated one more time, but not as wavering as before, “I didn’t think I would… that was unexpected.”

“No, it’s somewhat normal,” you exaggerated slightly, “this kind of thing… it’s taxing, I pushed you to your limits.  You were really tough, and it’s all very vulnerable.”

“Thanks,” he sighed, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  “And sorry about your ropes,” he smiled as he noticed the frayed ends coming off of where his wrists were still tied.

“Let me help you get those off,” you smiled, loosening the knots and sliding the binds off of him, quickly massaging the places that the rope had constricted.  “Blood flow’s okay?”

“Yep,” he nodded.

“You numb anywhere?” you pressed.

“Uh, just my dick.  And my brain is all fuzzy…” 

You smiled.  “Can’t help the first one.  Let me get you some water for the second.”

“No!” he yelped suddenly.  “Um, don’t go yet, please…”

“Of course,” you smiled.  “I’ll untie your ankles, then.”

He still seemed disappointed, as if he expected you to hug him for hours and never move.  He let you go this time, though, and loosened his grip so you could slide down to the foot of the bed.  

"Was that sort of what you were hoping for when you called me?" you asked as you untied the ropes slowly and took a moment to massage the skin underneath, hoping to restore any lost blood flow.

"So much better than what I was hoping for," he admitted with a breathless chuckle.  "You're… really good."

"Well, thank you," you shrugged, "it comes with practice and experience.  You held your own, too."

"I wish I could say that was from practice and experience.  I didn't want to say anything before but I've, uh, never actually… been to a domme before."

You smiled slightly, coming back up and being pulled into another embrace.  "Um, I'll admit I can kind of tell…" you mumbled.

"I'm not supposed to touch you like this," he realized quietly, relaxing his grip on you and pulling back.  "I'm sorry."

"No, it's alright, just don't get too comfortable because we only have—" you glanced at the clock— "eight more minutes until you need to leave."

"I'll get up and get dressed soon," he offered with a sigh as you got up and quickly slipped on a robe, grabbing him a damp washcloth for the drying come on his torso.

You tilted your head as you watched him clean up, and you wanted to offer some touch that was a bit less intimate than a hug, so you found yourself blurting out: "do you like having your hair played with?"

"Um, I don't… I don't know," he admitted as he reached up to card his fingers through the hair in question.  "No one else has ever really touched my hair before."

"Really?" you laughed, getting back on the bed to sit beside him.  "It looks pretty luscious.  I figured any girlfriend of yours would want to get her hands on it."

"Oh, well, the last time I had a girlfriend… it wasn't long then," he explained, and you kept on your best poker face.  His hair looked like he'd been growing it out for at least two years, unless it grew crazy fast or something.  How long had he been single?  With a body like that you could barely believe that he was single now.

"Do you mind if I touch it?" you offered quietly, and once he gave you a nod you reached forward and combed your fingers through it, reaching deeper to scratch at his scalp, occasionally pulling the strands lightly into loose braid-like patterns that fell away almost immediately afterwards.  He sank into your touch until you found yourself supporting his head against your chest, mindlessly playing with his hair until you noticed his eyes were shut, his breathing was slowed, and his body was limp on top of yours.

He fell asleep.

You laughed silently to yourself, realizing that you couldn't get him off of you without his cooperation since he was so heavy and you had no shot at lifting him.  And, of course, his cooperation required his consciousness… which required waking him up.

And, for some reason, you couldn't bring yourself to do it.  He just looked too peaceful, for a guy who had never seemed truly relaxed around you.

Was there any other way he could relax?  Cause it kinda seemed like he really, really needed this.  And you were in the business of meeting needs, to say the least.

So, with an apologetic text to your last client of the night that you needed to reschedule, you let James sleep on you as you closed your eyes and drifted off as well.

[ghost-like-pale]

a flinch is enough

info: the past never forgets, and techno never forgives. 》 they/them 》 in canon + platonic 》 1.4k words

warnings: sexual assault, explicit descriptions of murder/blood, hurt/comfort, swearing

a/n: this was a request from my beautiful 🌹 anon, thank you for sending this in. i made the implications of sexual assault a a little more subtle but i still hope you like it.

this blog it meant as a way of coping with trauma/mental issues, please don't report it. if you don't want to see what i write, please just block me.

——♤——

the moonlit sky was a beautiful dark blue as you stared at the light. you had been doing housework the entire day due to your counterpart being too busy with whatever he was brewing upstairs. the piglin hybrid usually helped you when he was home, it's his house after all. but today was different, you supposed.

you were so caught up in the moon's doings that you didn't notice the tall figure creeping down the stairs and right behind you. he assumed you were aware of him and went to tap on your shoulder.

as soon as he does you whip your head around, backing away from him as you hold one arm in front of your face and the other in front of your lower body. the shaking of your body became more prominent as time went on.

"(y/n)?"

you couldn't look at him. you weren't strong enough.

"(y/n), please. look at me."

you lowered your arms hesitantly and looked him in the eyes still filled with fear.

"(y/n), i'm not going to hurt you. i promise."

you averted your gaze and drop both your arms. tears leaked out of your eyes and cupped your face with your hands, all the memories coming back and hitting you like a truck.

"i'm so sorry, techno."

you dropped to the floor, your knees buckling under you and techno barely being able to catch you. you felt a heavy, warm cape drape over your figure while a worried piglin grunt escaped techno's throat. he got on one knee and rested one of his hands on your shoulder.

"don't apologize."

two simple words managed to tug at your heartstrings so harshly you couldn't hold it in anymore. you sobbed loudly into your hands, completely losing any posture you tried to maintain. techno was startled, thinking he did something wrong. he quickly snapped out of it, however, and pulled your body by the shoulders into his chest. his firm grasp made you feel secure, stifling your cries a little.

"...are you alright?"

you knew he had no idea how to handle it from here, but you appreciated the concern and kindness he showed. you pulled back from his embrace and wiped your eyes gingerly.

"i'm.. a little better."

"good."

the voices wanted to know who did this - who made you this way. who the fuck hurt you? he tried to keep them quiet, but he wanted them dead as much as his mind.

"can you tell me what happened?"

everything was silent for a few seconds. the voices were quiet, nothing came out of techno's mouth. you sighed and shakily started explaining yourself. techno listened silently, trying to catch every detail and description of the man who scarred you. he had a basic image of him in his mind by the time you were done.

"thank you for telling me."

techno glanced outside the window, the soft glow of the moon telling him it's late. how long had he been brewing? he shuffled a bit and eventually stuck an arm under your legs and upper body. with a small yelp you were lifted a few feet in the air, the cape that you were siting under fell off your back and onto the floor in the proces.

"you need some rest."

you didn't bother trying to stop him. your mind was foggy and your body felt heavy.

"thank you, techno."

"shh, there's no need to thank me."

in comfortable silence you were carried up the stairs and into techno's room. you were confused, you had your own room after all. you didn't mind, though. he placed you on the mattress he slept on rarely. his bed was bigger, the blanket was heavier, the pillow was softer, everything felt better. you wrapped yourself in the plush blanket and felt your eyelids getting heavier already.

"sleep well, (y/n)."

just as he was about to stand up you grabbed a hold of his wrist. he looked at you quizzically, knitting his eyebrows together.

"where are you going?"

"don't worry, i won't be away for long. now sleep."

"fine. good night, techno."

"good night."

—

looking through his bag once more technoblade checked if he forgot to grab anything; he had food, arrows, ender pearls, potions and a small knife. on his hips hung his axe, crossbow and sword, yearning to be used. his bag was full and everything he needed was in his possession. before he opened the door techno noticed the red velvet fabric resting on the ground. with a few paces he arrived in the kitchen and picked up the cape. he swung it over his shoulders and adjusted it carefully. with a loud exhale he stepped out of his house and into the cold weather of the tundra. he whisteled a command and one of the wolves in the pack jumped out of the enclosure it sat in and rushed over to techno's side. he was going to find them.

you've shown him your previous residence multiple times, which is where he was going to look first. it was his best guess. while making his way over to your former abode the wolf that traveled with him was scouting out ahead, hoping it would find it faster than techno.

techno's eyes shoot in the animal's direction when it starts barking aggressively at a moving figure across the woods. the voices screamed at him to assist his pet, to shoot him, kill him immediately, to which he happily obliged. he sped over to his companion, hoping to catch a better glimpse of the person.

"stop him, now!"

techno ordered the animal. after a few seconds he heard a loud thud followed by a yell belonging to a man in immense pain. he made his way over to the barking wolf, it having a slightly stained mouth from its jaws going through the man's flesh and muscles. he found them.

"what's the rush?"

he towered over the other male pathetically writhing on the floor. his calf had a nasty teeth mark, bleeding profusely and covered in dirt and saliva.

"p-please... don't... hurt me!"

"why shouldn't i?"

technoblade hated these kind of men; not even willing to fight or run. just begging and whimpering for mercy. it made him sick. the wolf that followed him all the way here was still barking, ready to tear the man to shreds.

he takes his netherite axe off his hip and hoists it over his shoulder. techno looks the other man right in the eyes, fully aware it fills him with fear. he wanted to feel everything you were put through. he was going to feel your pain.

"i...i've never done anything to you..!"

technoblade froze at the sentence. nothing? he thinks he's done nothing? he's not completely wrong; he's never physically hurt him - he's never even met him before. his train of thought was interrupted by the voices yelling in his head. they were screaming at him to cut him, to strangle him, to burn him, anything. he needed to feel pain.

"does the name (y/n) mean anything to you?"

the horror on the man's face got worse by the second, him figuring out why techno is here. the piglin drops to one knee and gets about an inch away from his victim's face.

"am i going to get an answer?"

"y-yes! we were friends a few years ago."

techno let his axe fall off his shoulder and into the dirt, the blade only falling a few inches away from the other male's injured leg.

"do friends traumatize each other?"

the question filled the victim with dread, his monotone voice only adding to the fear.

"y-you don't know what we did!"

the sudden surge in confidence surprised techno, to be sure. there was nothing more pathetic than a man yelling at the brink of death in such a tone. he scoffed with an amused expression and retracted his axe back into the holder that rested on his hip.

"yeah! they were lying to you, i promise. that's the reason i stopped being friends in the first- GAH!"

his sentence was cut of by a dagger being plunged into his stomach and dragged up to his ribs, cutting open his body. he mewled and moaned in agonizing pain, unable to form any coherent words.

"you disgust me."

technoblade stood up, his ears twitching and voices pleased. the blood on his hand dripped on the dried leaves as he called the wolf he brought with him. as the animal sped over to technoblades' side the screams of the impaled man were completely gone. looking over his shoulder he sees the lifeless body of the man who has haunted you for a long time.

he'll never hurt you again.

——♤——

thank you for reading, hope you liked it.

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@esylwen

[sparkbeast20]

Hi! Love your writings! Reaction from both brothers and side characters of Female Gangster MC. Like they just found out

ANS: So, this My first request I ever made. I hope I did you justice with this Anon and also Thank you for the kind words, I'm glad you like my writing <3

If want to send request feel free to send them :3

Warning: Mention of Guns, Blood, Killing, Violence, Taking the fall for someone, and PTSD.

The Brothers and Dateables + (Luke platonic) finding out that F!MC use to be a Gangster

Lucifer

“MC, what’s this” Lucifer points at a scar on her chest, what looks like a stab wound.

“It nothing Lucifer, its just…. It just a remainder not to disobey orders….” She trails off, starting to tear up “it my fault, I got to reckless and almost someone I care about killed” she places a hand on the scar try to keep it together and not show weakness Infront of the Avatar of Pride.

Lucifer slowly took off one of his gloves, and walk closer to MC, and place his hand over hers

“Scars are nothing to be ashamed off, you did it to protect someone you care and….” He places his hand on her chin and lean her head back to met his black and red glance. “Your safe here, you don’t have to worry to go back to that life anymore”

You just the tears fall as your face soft and embrace him, feeling safe knowing that you don’t have hide you past to him.

Mammon

“This all your Mammon!” she angerly whisper in his ear, and groan at her pestering.

“ShHH! Quiet, they’ll hear us human-” then you smack him slightly on the back of his head.

“Whoops, you called me human again”

“Hey! Do you really need to- WAIT there’s a car over there” him point out, and quickly book it to the park vehicle and see that it isn’t lock, however?

“Crap! The key isn’t here” he tries to look around, but quickly push to the passenger, and MC sat the driver sit and open up under the steering wheel.

“Why do I have to do everything around here!” she grabs and cut two wires and start hot wire. In second the car starts up and she buckle her seat belt. “Mams, you guys can survive a car to the face?”

“Yeah…. Why- wait!?! What are you-”

“Buckle yourself in!” She quickly steps on the gas, the demons been chasing them heard the engine, but quickly get hit by the car. As the human and avatar of greed make their escape.

“WHAOOO! I have fun thrill in months” as MC enjoy the adrenaline, Mammon looks over to the human that he was suppose to protect, in amaze and fear. He makes a mental note that Lucifer isn’t the only he shouldn’t just provoke.

Leviathan

“This is impossible!” Levi is struggling with a level from a game from the human world that he just bought, while MC behind him, trying to hold her laughter.

Is a mock version of gang game and Levi, is at the level of the game where to rival gangs are fighting each other for territory?

“You’re focusing on the grunts and not the ones who are hiding from afar- look” she grabs the control from Levi and start playing the level like it was nothing, as she explained how and why he keep dying, all the while Levi is both shock with how MC can play and concern about the implication of how she gotten the knowledge.

“There, now you just have to escape, I never good with car chase, only driving really fast- Huh…. Levi was wrong?”

Levi snap from his train of thought and grab the controller from her, and finishing the level.

“MC, were you-”

“Yeah, but left that behind me.”

Satan

MC and Satan are watch Mammon and Levi being strung up by Lucifer from afar.

“I’m surprise, that you’re not phase about this” Satan asks looking over to her, watching why she not reacting on the display of punishment Infront of her.

“EH… I’ve seen worst”

“Really? What worst then this”

“Being killed-”

“What!?! That’s not punishment!”

“You didn’t let me finish, watching someone being killed Infront of you is worst. It’s a way to learn to obey your boss and survive in world”

She looks on to the demons being strung, while Satan is still letting the information sink in, who know that the human was brought to hell, has already lived in one.

Asmodeus

“I’ve been meaning to asks darling, where did you get your scars?” Asmo asks MC as he and her are taking a bath together.

“Which one?”

“Well…. All of them”

“Ah…. All of them are from fights that I got to”

“Why would you go and get in to fights, you’re to precious” Asmo cooed them move closer and grab her hand, and start scrubbing her arm. She laughs as she is tickled by his action.

“You know, for a bunch of demons. your all nicer than other humans back home” pauses for a moment, by continue with a giggle.

“Well, you don’t have to worry anymore. As long I’m here no one will ever lay a finger on you again” and that’s a promise he made to you and himself.

Beelzebub

“I’m glad you like it Beel” MC made Beel a homemade dish from the human world to calm the hungry demon.

“Its so good, I like your cooking”

“Nah…. You would like Sal’s cooking, he’s the one who taught me how to cook this”

“Maybe, if we go to the human world, you might think he’ll cook for me and my brothers”

“Yeah totally! He loves my friends…...but he can’t”

“Why? Did he leave or something?”

“His at prison, he took the blame for me. And said you should get out of this life….. I guess cooking isn’t the only thing I learn from him” she laughs to hide the fact she misses her mentor.

Beel quickly engulfs her in bear hug, and rub her back.

“Is okay, maybe we can visit him someday”

She sighs and let the tears fall as she return the hug.

“I-I’ll like that, thank Beel”

Belphegor

“You’re still up” MC asks Belphie who is standing at the doorway at her room.

“Sorry, I was waiting for you”

“Really why?”

“You been having nightmare with some men with guns, I figure to help you” she let out sharp gasp and turn away from Belphie.

“I’m sorry to keep you up-”

“No! I already cause so much pain; I want to help you to keep those nightmares away. Like I promise.”

She looks back with her eyes widen and clenching his pact mark on her wrist. She hastily grabs his hand with her head hang low.

“P-please…. Make the nightmares go away….”

“Anything for you, I’ll keep the nightmares and the bad men away”

Diavolo

“You like what you see” Diavolo spoke behind MC startling her, Diavolo was shock to her reaction almost bumping into crown in display.

“Oh, I-I wasn’t planning to steal this I swear-”

“Calm down, I trust you. Sorry for startling you.”

“You trust me, even with my background” she mutters, and look directly at Diavolo’s eyes to see if his lying or not.

“I didn’t look in to your past, only your connection with Lilith. I believe in Demons, Angel, and Humans can have second chances. If you’re a good person now, as long you learn from your past. I don’t see to bring up old scars”

“Thank you, My lord”

“Please, Call me Diavolo”

“I don’t think Lucifer will like that”

Barbatos

MC is inside Barbatos room, helping him clean, to the surprise of the demon butler seeing that he didn’t help in clean. But he can’t refuse the human.

But then she stops and look at the door she uses in going back in time in the time of the “Incident”

“Barbatos, can you see any path where I stayed in the human world and never came here in the first places”

“I’m afraid, I am forbidden to use my powers like that, why may I ask what makes you think of that?”

“I think, I got the luckiest path. And I’m thankfully for this. I think I’ll be in the side of the road-”

Suddenly Barbatos places a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look at the demon.

“Its better not to think of what could’ve happen and focus on your presents self”

Simeon

“Simeon, am I bad person?” She asks while Simeon is writing a draft of his story.

“No, why do you ask?”

“You’re the closes person to being pure and good, is it good for me to threaten people even though I was just following orders”

Simeon stop writing and put the quill down, and look over to MC.

“Did they threat you?”

“Yes”

“Did you, like doing things like that to other?”

“No!” she quickly sat up to that question.

“Are you willing to do that again?”

“Never!”

“Then you’re a good person.”

Solomon

Solomon and MC are at purgatory hall practicing spells for class, when MC spill the potion on to herself, then she starts taking off her shirt, leaving Solomon blushing and turning his back to give her some privacy.

“MC!?! Warner me next time, before you start striping.”

“Sorry, force of habit”

“What you always spill potion on yourself all the time, back home” she looks with bows rise up.

“Oh… No, every time I get back home from a job, I’m usually covered in blood and I don’t want to leave any evidence behind”

“W-what exactly, are those “Jobs” of yours?”

“I you know shady things, if you can keep secrets about yourself. Then I have secrets of my own” she smiled teasing him.

But to him, its no tease.

Luke

“Luke, little advise from me. Don’t be like Mammon or Me” MC and Luke watches Mammon, Levi and Solomon playing poker in class waiting the bell to ring.

“I know Mammon shouldn’t be followed, but you’re a good person I don’t see why you rope yourself with him.”

“Oh sweetie, I’m just nice to people I care about. I don’t care for others outside my gan- never mind”

“Wha-” then the bell rings, and Mammon rushes and grab MC by arm and dragging her out the classroom.

Leaving Luke confuse and worried.

[mercurygray]

Any chance you might be willing to write a confrontation scene between Canute and Ælfgifu after he returns to England? I think we're all dying to know exactly he would have handled that situation... ;)

At the docks they told him there was trouble waiting for him.

Canute looked at his fleet, battle-scarred and bloody, and wondered if the man was joking.

But there was no joke about the two women in the great hall, Emma on her throne, staring down a blonde woman in green.

Ah, Canute thought to himself, pausing near the door. Yes, that is trouble.

read more below or on AO3!

They both looked up when he entered, two hard stares meeting his. For a moment the room was suspiciously quiet. Emma spoke first. "My lord. I am so pleased to celebrate your return. Your frilla is here."

She spat the word with intent to harm, and he could almost see the cut appear on Aelfgifu's cheek, the flint in her eyes harden just a little. Frilla - your kept woman, your concubine, your whore. It was a word he was almost surprised that Emma knew - but then, she'd told him once that Aethelred had kept a mistress, a frowsy woman twice her age who'd been his companion long before she'd married him, that it was well known her own father had a woman - had several, in fact - in hunting lodges and market towns growing sleek on his gold and his favor.

It was a petty word, to be launched so. But she knew her worth, this wife of his - knew that she'd been wed with an oath and a ring, with a sign before God and witnesses to the same. And what had Aelfgifu? Two of my sons, he'd reminded her. And she has the keeping of my hall, in Jelling.

They had been together, in his room, just after he'd asked her to marry him, laying the facts plain before her. They could do great things together, he'd said, but there were things she needed to know before she said yes. There was another woman in Denmark - another wife.

She'd considered all of this calmly, the facts passing behind her eyes like the shuttle on a loom. When she spoke, she did not sound angry - interested, perhaps. Wary, certainly. (Would he love her if she were not so?) When he’d finished explaining, she had a single question:

“Why did you marry her?”

A good question. Why, indeed? He could remember Mercia, vaguely - the smell of the salt air on the deck of his father's boat, the red of her gown as she waited in the courtyard with her father, the way the wind had caught her hair. She was tall, and of an age with him, already well into womanhood and ripening beneath her dress. Someone had pinched her cheeks to bring some color into them, cinched her dress a little tighter to give her a waist like a willow wand and generous looking hips.

“Her father was an ealdorman - he wanted to bargain with mine. He wanted peace, and my father wanted his wealth.”

“But you did not love her?”

Canute tried to remember. They had been handfast, in the old way, the bright cords tied together and their hands passed over a flame. He'd been a boy, then, easily petted and stroked and sated, and someone had told her how to please him. But she felt like a stranger to him, even after their sons were grown. Interested in power, surely, but not...quite interested enough to learn how to get it, how to keep it. And why should she not? She'd been promised a prince, and that was what she'd been given. She was...comfortable, with it, while Emma had the hunger. Love had never entered into it at all.

He knew it was hard to lie to her - it was why he never tried. "Not the same way I love you."

She fairly glowed at that. "Let her come, then. Let her try to take my crown. I have the king's love." Her eyes were bright as she'd said that, just as they were bright now. She rose from the throne, ascended the dais to greet him, completely unconcerned. Another woman might have paled in the face of such competition, but not her. I have the king's love. Her entire person proclaimed it as loudly as if it had been hammered out in runes. She glanced at Aelfgifu and the tiniest smirk crept into her face. "I'll leave you to talk alone."

She had been a handsome girl, Aelfgifu, and she was a handsome woman, still. Unlike Emma, when she stood up it was easy for her to meet his gaze, her eyes still that clear gray-green that had stared him down in the courtyard all those years ago, anxious to be well-liked. Her hair was still blonde, without a trace of gray in it, though he knew his own was slowly spotting with white. She had shared his bed, mothered his sons, graced his table and sat in his hall. But love? Love the way the skalds sang, of two minds turning together? No.

And perhaps Aelfgifu was seeing that now, too. How long had she been here in England? Long enough, it seemed, to begin to doubt her claim. She was not as sure of herself as she had been of old. When she spoke, there was a quaver in her voice, a certain deference that had never been there before. "Is that what I am, my lord? Your frilla?"

"It is when you are in England, and my wife's house."

Her eyes went wide, caution gone, and she flew at him with intent to hit, but he caught her hand before the stroke fell, the two of them locked together. Ah, he thought, that’s the woman I know. "I am your wife!"

"You are bound to me, but not as wife."

She snarled at him, a ravening wolf. He’d been away from home too long; he’d forgotten she had claws. "What of our sons?"

"What of them?"

"Would you deny them their rights?"

"I deny them nothing," Canute said evenly. "Do they not eat in my hall and carry my name?"

Her scowl could have ripped a sail in two, and she tried to break her arm free from his hand. But he had not sat at the oar-bench man and boy to lose his grip so easily. "What has she poisoned you with? What lies? They said her husband was old,” she spat, viperish. “I'm sure she's all manner of tricks to beguile a man. Her fingers behind your balls and her lips on your -"

"Enough!” Why should he listen to such drivel? “She poisoned nothing. She bested me in battle." It wasn’t quite true, but near enough. He stared her down, ready to twist the final knife. "As I recall, I got you because you lost."

He could see the light die in her eyes, felt her arm relax a little. See that you do not test me further, woman, and there will be no need for you to lose again.

[wasted-headspace-98]

Cataegis: Part III

Summary: An apprentice to the famed Mace Windu, your master has made sure you are strong with the Force. But, sometimes the Force has other plans. And you happen to be caught in the middle of them. Rating: 18+ Warnings: Nonexplicit sexual content, slow-burn, noncon elements (non explicit), underage elements (non explicit), inappropriate use of the force, etc Pairing: Sith!Obi-Wan x Reader Masterlist

Cataegis (n.) Latin word meaning tempestuous storm

Part I Part II

Power.

That’s what he felt.

There was no denying the waves of it that rolled off of you. It…confused him if he was being honest. He tried to make sense of it all, but there were so many factors to consider that it sent him reeling.

He sighed and rubbed his temple, sitting back on his heels. He hadn’t felt that much power from anyone aside from Anakin. The thought made him frown. During his time training Skywalker, he could sense the turbulent emotions within him. It was like a raging storm that held no end in sight. His Padawan allowed his emotions to guide him. Looking back, he realized that he should have seen the signs and snuffed them out sooner. But, he digresses.

There was no use in dwelling on things stuck in the past.

But you were right there. In front of him, and in the present.

He couldn’t figure out what the point was in the Force binding the two of you together. It was a puzzle that he didn’t have all the pieces to. And it frustrated him to no end.

She’s not a sentinel, that’s for sure, he thought to himself. So why does she conduct herself as one?

From what he knew about the training of temple Sentinels, you had gone through no such thing. In fact, it was incredibly rare for one of them to take a Padawan learner. The Sentinel duty seemed to be ingrained in a youngling from the day they discovered the Force. But there was something different about you.

“Master,”

He opened his eyes, turning to look at his former Padawan. “Anakin,” he greeted. He inclined his head, his golden eyes seeming to pierce the soul of the Lord approaching him. “What is it?”

“I sense a disturbance.” Anakin said with a frown. His long hair framed his face and blew in the gentle breeze. “And it’s powerful.”

Cataegis hummed in response, nodding quietly. “She is,” he muttered quietly.

Anakin arched his eyebrow, part of it marred by the scar that adorned the side of his face. “She?”

Cataegis let out a chuckle. “Yes, she.” He was loathe to the fact that he didn’t have a name to put to your infuriatingly beautiful face. “She’s becoming a rather annoying thorn in my side.”

Anakin snorted and crossed his arms. “What do you plan on doing about it.”

The blond Sith pursed his lips as he thought. Truth be told, he didn’t know. There were too many unknown factors for him to run headlong into this without a plan. He knew Anakin was usually the one to do so, but spending so much time with his former apprentice seemed to be rubbing off on him. “I…don’t know.” he admitted.

“Let me hunt her-“

“No!” Cataegis snarled at Anakin and threw him backwards, his hold tight on the other man’s throat with the Force.

Anakin grunted as his back hit the wall and he clawed at his throat momentarily before realizing his Master had full control of his body.

“You will not,” he hissed.

“Seems like you’ve found a new pet,” Anakin choked, trying to struggle against the hold Cataegis had on him.

He growled, the sound reverberating through his chest and his eyes narrowing in a primal rage. “Touch her, and you’ll have one less hand to worry about,” he snarled. “She’s not a bantha for you to hunt for sport. She’s someone more powerful than either you or me. And Force help you if I find out you’ve disobeyed me.” He let Anakin go with another growl, and the former Jedi fell to his hands and knees as he tried to suck in large breaths.

“You’ve gotten rather attached,” Anakin said as he pulled himself to his feet.

Cataegis scowled at his former apprentice. “Have care how you speak, Vader. You never know when you’re going to push me too far.”

Anakin rolled his eyes, but the threat gave him pause. Cataegis only used his Sith title when he was extremely upset with him, which wasn’t often. There must have been something awfully special about this woman for him to be so on edge. “Very well,” he said, inclining his head and acknowledging Cataegis. “But is this going to be a problem?

The former Jedi let out a huff of annoyance. “I don’t know.” he said. “There seems to be a lot about this woman that I don’t know. And I don’t like it.”

“All the more reason we need to find out who she is.”

A low rumble came from Cataegis’ chest, a hum of agreement. “True. But I don’t want you doing anything to scare her off. She’s already on edge enough as it is.”

Anakin raised an eyebrow. “Since when have you been concerned about whether someone is scared?” he asked.

Cataegis gave him another warning look. “Since the Padawan I’ve connected with is barely more than sixteen,” he snapped. “Her mind is still malleable, and there’s still a chance I can undo everything that the Jedi have taught her. But if you go scaring her off like that, there’s no telling how she’ll react. We have a difficult enough time as it is. The last thing I need is for you to tear down any work I manage to accomplish with this youngling.”

“Do you really think you’ll be able to turn her?”

He paused for a moment, thinking it over. He could sense the turmoil and fear within you. There was confusion, doubt, and surprisingly, anger. At what, he couldn’t be sure. But it surprised him nonetheless. He could sense the disturbance in your mind. If he really tried, he didn’t think it would take much for him to sway you. “I believe so,” he said, rubbing his beard as he continued to think. “I’m going to Coruscant.”

“What?!”

“Are you questioning my decision?”

“Of course I am!” Anakin defended. “You’ve absolutely lost your mind! Yoda will know as soon as you step foot on that planet. There’s know way you’ll be able to get past all of them without getting arrested. Or killed.”

Cataegis sighed and shook his head. “Such little faith, Anakin.”

~*~*~*~

After what happened with Windu, you’d been avoiding your master like the plague. He understood that you would need your space, and he left you to your own devices. For the most part, anyway.

At least he did until Yoda came looking for you.

He found you in one of the many training rooms within the temple. You’d been going at a program of Darth Maul for several hours, at least. The hologram was giving you quite the workout, you had to admit. And you could land blows and slice it to pieces without actually hurting any of your fellow padawans in a sparring session. You knew the emotions raging within you would cause a disturbance, but at that point, you didn’t care.

You didn’t understand what was happening, much less why it was happening to you of all people.

Cataegis’ golden Sith eyes stared at you every time you closed your eyes. You could feel his presence looming over you. It was as if he were right beside you the entire time.

And it unsettled you.

“Hmm…sense your anger, I do.”

You jumped at the sound of the voice that interrupted your training session. You turned on your heel and thrust out your hand. A wave of powerful force energy flew from your palm and rushed towards Yoda. Your eyes widened when you realized who it was. “Master Yoda!” you exclaimed. He saw your reaction coming before you even acted. He quickly jumped out of the way, somersaulting in the air and landing behind you in the training area.

“Mean to scare you, I did not. Sorry, I am, Padawan.” He tilted his head to the side and watched you visibly deflate. The lightsabers in your hand retreated back to their durasteel handles and you quietly hung them on your belt.

“It’s alright, Master.” you replied. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”

He let out the quiet chuckle you knew so well and shook his head. “Conflicted, you are. Resolve your issues, you must.”

You felt like throwing your hands in the air. “How do I do that, Master?” you asked. “I don’t understand what’s happening to me.”

Master Yoda hummed quietly and observed as you took up a meditation position before him. “Explain what is happening, you will.” You arched an eyebrow. You’d figured that Windu had told the Council everything that was happening with you. It would make sense for him to do so. After all, from what he said, it was highly unusual for something like this to happen. Sensing your hesitation, Yoda shook his head. “Tell the Council the details, Master Windu did not. However, like to help you, I would.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You couldn’t help the flinch that took over your shoulders when you saw his eyes staring back at you.

There’s no need to be scared, little one. His deep voice soothed. I’ll soon be with you.

You let out a gasp and opened your eyes. Yoda almost recoiled when he saw the red and gold brimming your normally bright irises.

A chuckle that wasn’t your own echoed through your head and his voice spoke once again, this time a fading whisper. Have no fear, my young apprentice. I won’t hurt you. Yet.

“Hear his voice again, you have?”

You swallowed the fear that lumped in your throat and nodded. “Yes,” you admitted.

He hummed in thought and readjusted his hold on the cane before settling himself in front of you. “Get to the bottom of this, we will. First, discover what this bond is, we must.”

The lights of the training room began to fade away as you closed your eyes and began a light meditation. You’d done something similar with Mace in the past, and you assumed Yoda would want to see exactly what it was that you saw. You were willing to show him, but that didn’t mean you had to like the invasion it would bring into your mind.

But you pushed those feelings aside and opened your mind to him. Everything came rushing forward and you let it.

Everything you were feeling pushed itself towards Yoda. And you didn’t try to stop it. All of your emotions bubbled over the surface and came spewing out like a volcano.

The waves crashed against the edges of your mental shielding, and you didn’t want to hold them back anymore.

What’s happening little one? I can feel your pain from here!

There was a note of concern that you hadn’t heard before. You almost snorted at the thought. You and you let it with a sigh of resignation.

There was no use denying it.

The Dark Side had a hold on you.

And it didn’t appear to be letting go any time soon. didn’t want to hear his voice anymore.

When you opened your eyes again, you were no longer sitting in the training room with Yoda. Instead, you found yourself on a landing platform. The night was cold and dark, and the wind ripped around and billowed your Jedi robes around you. Standing across from you…was him.

Black encompasses him like the shadows of the night, trying to swallow him whole. But the closer you looked, you realized that he was controlling the shadows. The rain pounded on the both of you, soaking you to the bone. Lightning struck the platform to your right, lighting up the area around you. His eyes flashed with the lightning, gold and beautiful.

“You!” you snarled, baring your teeth and glaring at the man.

He held up his hands in what he probably thought to be a placating gesture, but you took it as a threat. You threw your hand forward, and a powerful blast of energy flew from your fingers. Cataegis grunted and crossed his arms to block your blow.

“Get out of my head,” you snarled.

Letting out a scream, you let yourself feel the force around you. The energy flowed through you, became your blood. Everything around you became a part of you. And when you attacked him again, you attacked him with everything.

Yoda watched you with awe. His eyes were wide as a bubble of pure force energy surrounded you. He could see the waves rolling off of you, creating the field. Blue, red, and purple flowed through it like veins in a body. The sphere itself had a golden glow that pulsated with your heartbeat.

His eyes widened and he jumped from his seat as he saw you open yours.

“Get out of my head!”

An intense gold seeped into the color of your irises, intensifying the color. Energy exploded out of your body, throwing Yoda away from you and across the room.

Taglist: @rogueheretic555 @lordofthenerds97 @say-something-nice-missy @doctor-warthrop @auroras-stirring-gaze @venus-armote @say-something-nice-missy @cosmicsierra

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 5.5 Bonus

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language Warnings: None Summary: Local feral human spends some time with their new family. Four short bits featuring Daphne (Maiden OC), Bela, Lady D, Daniela, and a surprise guest. Enjoy. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly, 4: Portraits For Ghosts, 5: Heart Of The Matter

5.5: Family

i.

“Wait, you’re telling me that you came here willingly?” You asked, mouth agape, eyes wide. It felt like every time you talked to Daphne she had something incredible to say. Which was, of course, why she was your favorite maiden to talk to. That, and the fact that she had adapted so quickly to your ‘charming personality’. So far she was the only servant you had been willing to be honest with. Mainly about your feelings regarding your blood bond, but also just about your relationship with Cassandra in general. Something about Daphne simply made her incredibly approachable. From what you had heard, you weren’t the only one to think as such, with her being fairly popular among the castle workers.

“More of us do than you might expect. Some consider it an honor to serve one of the four Lords, and Castle Dimitrescu is certainly… nicer than either the factory or the reservoir. Personally, I came here for a friend of mine. She, well, had less of a choice. I couldn’t bear the thought of her being here without knowing anyone, so it felt like I only had one option. Can’t say I regret my decision, if you can believe it,” Daphne explained, folding laundry all the while. At the same time, you carefully sort through the not yet washed clothing, separating them into two baskets. After all, you wouldn’t want Lady Dimitrescu to end up with a pink dress! Technically this wasn’t your job, nor did you have a job at all, but you hated having idle hands- especially when talking to someone who was working. At first Daphne had protested, but she had given in upon realizing just how stubborn you could be.

“That’s… impressive. I mean, holy shit, that's a real ride or die friendship right there. Is she, uh, is your friend still, you know, around?” You stuttered, cursing your tongue for asking such a thing. If the answer was no, you were going to feel like a real asshole. Which, admittedly, you had a tendency to be. But this wasn’t one of the times where it was intentional. Thankfully, Daphne is all smiles, and even seems amused by your spluttering.

“Yes, we’re even roommates. Well, us and five others. Possibly with a sixth one on the way, if we ever get someone to fill the empty space,” she replies, pausing to think. Then she’s back to work, refusing to waste any time. “Speaking of roommates… I know I said I’m not one for gossip, and I meant it, but a little songbird told me that Cassandra seems to be in a much better mood these days. Are the two of you, well, getting along? It would be nice to know that soulmates can overcome even the roughest of introductions.” There’s a hint of something odd in her tone, and you take a moment to wonder what she’s (unintentionally) hinting at. Had she met her soulmate, only for things to go poorly?... Before answering her, you make a mental note, deciding to see if any of the other maidens had a scar across their nose.

“It’s not like she and I are dating or anything. We’re just, you know, not hating each other. Currently,” you said, shrugging. But Daphne raises an eyebrow at you, and you find yourself instinctively feeling guilty, somehow feeling small next to the shortest person you knew. “Alright, alright, we might have… Okay we kissed. And promised each other not to die, because having your soulmate die hurts like hell. Also maybe she showed me her mom’s art collection and I made a joke about the titty sculptures because holy shit, this house has a lot of titties.” At this, Daphne bursts into laughter, grinning from ear to ear.

“Amen to that, for sure.”

ii.

“So… fan of science, I see,” you say, awkwardly, bouncing a little on your heels. Next to you is the eldest Dimitrescu daughter, who had unexpectedly joined your table in the library. There were several other places she could have sat, with both more comfortable seating and more workspace, but for some reason she had chosen here. So far she hadn’t said a word. Hell, you hadn’t spoken to her since your first meeting, where she had suggested killing you. Naturally, you weren’t quite sure what to make of her. Something told you that she felt much the same about yourself.

“Fan of oversimplification, I see,” Bela counters, after a few tense seconds. Then she sets down her book- a heavy text about Romanian avian fauna- to give you her full attention. “It would be more accurate to say that I enjoy studying biology, particularly the branch of zoology.” Well, this conversation was certainly… happening. Honestly, you couldn’t tell whether she was legitimately judging you, or merely chaffing you for her own amusement.

“You’ll have to, er, forgive me for being overly broad. Consider it a side effect of my nerves, those themselves being due to our unsavory introduction. In case you don’t recall, you put that sickle of yours into my shoulder,” you reminded, with a sarcastic smile. To your surprise, Bela chuckles at this, almost as if fondly remembering the incident. Seriously, you think, why did my soulmate have to be from this family?

“Staying silent was an option. Perhaps that would have suited you better?” Bela says, now clearly teasing, smile much more genuine than your own. Knowing she had a point, you’re quick to blush, mildly embarrassed.

“Touche. I am curious, however, why you decided to sit next to me in the first place. I certainly wouldn’t have tried starting a conversation if you hadn’t,” you explained.

“Like I said… I enjoy studying zoology,” Bela replies, with a sly grin. It takes you a few moments to understand the intended implications. Once you do, however, you’re giving her a hard stare. Then you scoot your chair a few inches away from her, in exaggerated movements. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. Though you certainly are an interesting human. Much more, hmm, cheeky? Compared to the servants, at least.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that they simply prefer being alive, as opposed to not being as snippy. Except maybe Daphne, now that I think about it. Very sweet, that one,” you muse. “Regardless, I think I’ll return to my book now, for it lacks a tongue, and is therefore less likely to taunt me.” Doing just as you had said, you open the book, holding it a bit higher than what would be comfortable, so that it becomes a ‘shield’ of sorts. Nothing was quite as satisfying as subtle body language.

Accepting your words with a shrug, Bela also resumes reading, turning to a bookmarked page. Roughly an hour of relative quiet passes. Neither of you so much as glance at each other, not even when she drops the pen she had been taking notes with. In the end, you are the one who leaves first, and finally the silence is broken. You give your goodbyes, and Bela returns them politely. Though you do not know it, she sets her book down as soon as you leave, pausing to think about you. Now that things had ‘calmed down’, it was reassuring for her to know that you weren’t always full of spite. Still, you held onto your cleverness (for the most part), leaving her with no doubt about the universe’s decision. You were her sister’s soulmate.

iii.

“It’s official: I’m lost in a creepy castle. The universe hates me. Probably should have realized that sooner, considering how it decided to introduce me to my soulmate,” you mutter, scowling deeply, as you wander unfamiliar halls. How had you even gotten lost? Sure, you had taken a wrong turn, but it hadn’t taken long for you to realize your mistake! Evidently you somehow managed to make another one while backtracking. Now you were standing in the center of the corridor, hands on your hips, desperate for some maiden to come rescue you. What you really didn’t want was Cassandra to find you, because she’d make fun of you for the rest of your life. It’s not like she had specifically joked about you getting lost before. Except that was exactly what had happened.

A few minutes pass uneventfully. There aren’t even any distant sounds of life; no footsteps, nor echoing voices, nor the squeaking of floorboards. All you can hear is your own breathing. As well as the occasional sigh, admittedly. By this point, there’s a part of you that’s starting to panic. After all, there was a chance that the castle was big enough for certain sections to be abandoned. Hopefully that’s not the case, you think, I mean, they’d cut the power to those parts, right? Here’s hoping… With that in mind, you get back to wandering, figuring that you’d have to eventually run into a familiar landmark. Or better yet, someone who actually knew the castle’s layout.

When salvation at last reveals its holy visage, it is not in the form of a lowly servant, rather the muffled voice of none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. Neither her exact words nor who she’s speaking to is clear. At first, you can’t even tell where her voice is coming from, but you quickly approach one closed door, then another, searching for the source. Several doors later you’re certain you’ve found her. By then you can tell that she’s not alone. Not wanting to seem rude by interrupting, you take a few steps back, leaning against the wall to wait. For the most part you still cannot make out what’s being said, but a few words do reach your ears.

“-expected more from you. How am I-” the voice gets cut off, not by Alcina, rather a sudden gust of air, akin to massive wings flapping. When the speaker continues, they are both louder and angrier. “Someone is listening. Have you not taken steps to ensure our privacy?” Then the door is swinging open, revealing your soulmate’s mother. At first she’s practically shaking with rage, but her expression turns to shock when she sees you.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Cassandra?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, clearly stressed, as she steps into the corridor. There’s movement behind her, although you cannot make out any details. Besides, you’re quick to answer her, wishing to avoid her wrath (and that of whoever she was speaking to).

“I’m so sorry, Lady Dimitrescu, I was walking from the dining hall to Cassandra’s studio, and I took a wrong turn. I’ve been wandering for half an hour now. When I heard your voice, I thought perhaps I could, well, enlist your assistance. But you were busy, so I figured I’d wait outside. If I had-...” you pause, gulping, as the other figure steps into view. It’s a face you’re all too familiar with. One that popped up countless times through the village, and again throughout the castle, the owner’s name always spoken with acclaim, with worship. Mother Miranda, in the flesh, wings spreading out behind her, somehow cutting a more impressive silhouette than even Lady Dimitrescu. Instantly you’re falling to your knees, knowing that your sharp tongue was no match for this practical goddess.

“Who is this, Dimitrescu? Why isn’t their blood staining your claws?” Miranda questions, gaze never leaving your trembling form.

“This… this is one of my daughters’ soulmates. They were brought in with the last group of sacrifices,” Lady Dimitrescu explains, uncharacteristically hesitant. ‘Twas a true testament to Miranda’s power, as well as her influence, that she could make someone so powerful seem so weak. Which was exactly why you were shaking with anxiety. But to your surprise, the goddess does not immediately order your execution for your trespass.

“And already they know their place, hmm? Kneeling before me?” Miranda says, a strange smile dancing on her lips. Whatever anger she had been feeling a minute prior had faded, though you couldn’t even begin to guess as to why. Regardless, both Alcina and yourself are quite relieved, though neither of you are quick to show it. “Either they have a good head on their shoulders, or you still take care of some of your duties. Very well, they may live. For now. But I expect next week’s report to be far more favorable. I don’t need to remind you of the price for failing me.” With that said, Mother Miranda turned to leave, a swirling mass of dark feathers flying past you.

A minute passes, maybe two, before either of you feel capable of speaking up.

“Let’s get you back where you belong, yes?” Lady Dimitrescu says, quietly, before placing her hand on your shoulder to guide you. Tension hangs clear and heavy over both of you. Even as you walk down corridor after corridor, the feeling does not ease. At least not until you’re back in familiar territory, near where you had originally made your mistake, finally able to breathe a little. It’s here that Lady Dimitrescu pauses to speak once more. “Tomorrow I will assign one of the servants to give you a tour, in the hopes that this does not happen again. Furthermore, I ask that you forget everything you heard earlier, for it is neither your business… or my daughter’s.” You’re quick to nod, and with that she bids you farewell, leaving you alone. Now, you think, was it left from here, or right?

iv.

“I’m just going for a walk. Why do you care so much? It’s not like it’s any of your business,” Daniela assures you, despite the fact that all you had done was say ‘hello’. If this was her attempt at casting aside suspicion, she had done a terrible job of it. What made her so nervous? Was it even worth investigating? Only one way to find out.

“You’re rather bundled up, planning on being out for long?” You ask, trying to sound casual, leaning against the wall as you did. In response, Daniela pretty much stomps her foot. There’s something odd in her expression, however, that implies your question hit a soft spot. Certainly wasn’t what you had expected. “Don’t mind me, just trying to make conversation with my soulmate’s sister. Speaking of her… have you seen Cassandra? Is she, perhaps, going with you?” A little misdirection never hurt anyone. Probably.

“No!” Daniela replies, fast as a gunshot, too much emphasis to be unintentional. But she realizes her mistake as soon as she’s made it, and makes a clear effort to relax herself. “She’s probably in her studio, doing whatever it is she calls art, on the other end of the house. Besides, I don’t want any company for this walk.” For a moment you merely squint at her, unsure of how to proceed. In the end, you decide that it really is none of your business, being more than satisfied by what teasing you’ve already done.

“Alright, alright. Well then, I’ll leave you be. Just… be careful, yeah? If you get hurt, and your mother finds out that I didn’t stop you from going… not sure Cassandra could save me,” you say, with a shrug. At first Daniela can’t decide whether to be upset or relieved, but she seemingly settles for the latter, giving you a brief nod before heading outside. As the door shut behind her, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had done the right thing.

[hightidelowmood]

I did a whole post about my favourite TV couples across all of the TV shows. Now let me break down the ultimate alpha females ~tv women who I can’t possibly get enough of.

Faith Lehane ~ ladies and gents the ultimate alpha female and ultimate bad ass. I adored (adore) Faith Lehane so much I actually have her line ‘five by five’ tattooed on me (yes I’m one of those fans hahaha). My dedication to her character probably stems from my daddy issues but hell if I care, this character was hands down the most relatable (?relatable am I joking, how on earth is a vampire slayer relatable) to little 15 year old Nina. let me just explain ~ Back then you were either a Buffy or a Faith. You either get it or you don’t, you either rooted for her or you didn’t (especially in season 4 of Btvs and season 1 of Ats) and boy oh boy I absolutely did (and still do). I genuinely think if they had made a Faith spin off it would have done better than Buffy The Vampire Slayer 🫣 Don’t come for me!

Hayley Marshall ~ again another alpha bad ass werewolf hybrid! I’ll be completely honest, first episode of The Originals I wasn’t convinced I would adore her and then the second episode, girl took me kicking and screaming. The writers, the casting, the acting, it was the perfect brew for me to literally hang on every single line this woman said throughout the series. I love (loved?) her so much. I don’t want to give too much away but Hayley Marshall really went to the ends of the earths for her family and pack. She’s loyal, strong willed, an alpha werewolf, bold and probably the most compassionate character. There is absolutely nothing this character hasn’t done. You want sweet, soft mother ~ she has that, you want ultimate baby daddy drama ~ she’s got that, you want a pack leader and challenge to the system ~ she’s got that.

AN ICON, A LEGEND, THE V FIRST SPY SHOW I EVER WATCHED. The adoration I have for Sydney Bristow, I cannot describe it! It is a completely different experience watching Alias in my twenties vs when I was in my teens. Where before I wanted her to kick so much ass etc, now I genuinely desire peace for her. I think any viewer can’t help but fall heavy. Like so many of the other characters I love, she’s loyal, caring, a total bad ass, stubborn and just a good bloody person. There was a realism to this character and I really can only put it down to how excellent Jennifer Garner played Syd. I also really had so much time for her relationship with her dad, I loved hers and his character development, I loved watching her over the series trust her own ability and intuition. We watched as she learnt to trust those around her again, we watched her fall in love, her get to know her dad better, become a mother, meet her own mother and kick sooooo much ass!

I’ll be honest, growing up I really wanted to be a Phoebe but now I definitely know I’m a Prue, through and through. I think I didn’t want to love her as much as Phoebe because I desired to be as free. However, in my big 27 I can’t help but feel drawn to her character the most. She had so much growth over the course of 3 seasons. I wish in 199 ways she never left Charmed. I think she had so much to learn, so much to feel, just so much story to tell. I love her because I see so much of myself in her, the big sister, the protector, the relied on, the pressures of being the leader and having to have my ~shit~ together. Prue started off the series as the unhappy big sis, jaded and scarred from a cheating boyfriend, working her ass off and trying to keep a much distance between herself and actually feeling something. She finished the series as a photographer, part owner in a night club with her sister and closer than ever with her sisters. By the end of the series she had conquered her fear of abandonment and completely accepted she was a witch. When I tell you Prue Halliwell is the ultimate big sis you want the tightest hug from I am not lying.

I followed this actress because she totally conned me into cutting a short front fringe and dying my hair black not once but bloody TWICE!!!! And she didn’t disappoint because for the first time ever I become a marvel girl and it was curtesy of this whisky drinking, shit talking, angry ass private investigator, Jessica Jones. This character is the type of cool girl character you wish you were, she would both kick your ass and bring you to your knees in worship. She’s bad ass in the sense that she’s got the toughest exterior but when the right pressure is applied she melts and you’re wondering what the hell happened and when the hell did you begin to LOVE her so much. She’s the protocol you try to replicate when you want to say fuck the system, leave me alone. I don’t know how to describe the adoration I have for Jessica jones. I just think it’s her audacity, the level of fucks she does not have. I L O V E HER