#except he just goes. and is tempted to stay for good!

[echo-bleu]

Noldor hair headcanons (2/4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | On AO3

By the time they’re settled in Beleriand, the Nolofinwëans have largely switched from elaborate styles done by someone else to (slightly) simpler self-braided styles. They’re at war now, so they turn toward practical braids that keep their hair out of their face during combat. There’s more and more of a gap between everyday styles and ceremonial styles.

The Fëanorians however are still doing things the old way. Maedhros is very unhappy that he can no longer braid people’s hair properly (especially Fingon’s) (he learns to do it one-handed eventually, but it’s never as perfect) (Fingon doesn’t mind).

The Sindar wear their hair half-up or even loose. However, they like to play with each other’s hair, and it’s not reserved for family, which is Very Weird for the Noldor to see. Galadriel has a hard time getting used to it and doesn’t let anyone touch her hair beside Celeborn, but she eventually figures out that her hair dazzles people even more when it’s loose, so she starts leaving it down.

It’s even harder to untangle as a result, and Celeborn suffers. (Galadriel is not not into hair pulling.)

Melian and Lúthien’s hair is so silky that braids just undo themselves. Elrond and Elros partly inherit that, and Elrond spends his whole life mourning that fact (he wants to do his hair like Maedhros, okay?).

Finrod is the first elf to let a Man touch his hair. He’s travelling alone and he’s touch-deprived, can you blame him? (It’s Bëor. It results in several uncomfortable conversations.)

Curufin makes himself and his brothers sharpened hairpins and various other weapons disguised as hair jewellery.

Hairstyles mingle during the Siege until, in the more cosmopolitan realms, Noldor and Sindar are no longer identifiable at first sight. Some Noldor elect to keep their hair mostly loose (though almost never entirely) while many Sindar learn the Battle Braids. They are very convenient, after all.

Avari hair customs are very different. It’s mostly about hair brushing/care being very intimate. They usually wear hairdresses or hair covering of some kind, depending on the tribe they belong to.

Gondolin has stayed highly conservative about hair, with hairstyles almost as complex as Tirion in its noontide.

Maeglin hates having his hair touched even more than his mother.

I’m tempted to make Eöl an asshole on this too, who cuts Aredhel’s hair or something, but I think she just never lets him touch her and he doesn’t care enough to try.

Maeglin grows up with his hair loose up until Aredhel takes them to Gondolin, where she remembers how Turgon is about hair, and braids Maeglin’s and her own in hopes of Looking Natural.

Maeglin’s first impression of Gondolin is that Hair Braiding Hurts (though not as much as adar’s hands). It goes downhill from there.

He’s still jealous when he catches Idril doing Tuor’s hair. Tuor doesn’t even have the decency of having beautiful Noldor hair, so it doesn’t even look that good. The next day, Idril’s braids are very wonky and Maeglin, upon seeing her, completely messes up the hair clip he was making her.

Eärendil has Tuor’s hair. It’s fine, because Elwing refuses to do Noldor braids.

Glorfindel is a Vanya and wears his hair completely loose.

We all know how that ends.

Maglor’s hair is partly burned off in Dagor Bragollach. He spends an uncomfortable few years growing it back and recovering from smoke inhalation. He revives some ridiculous hair-related ditties from his youth as voice therapy and they’re soon heard throughout Beleriand.

Finrod, badly injured and with no bodies of his brothers to bury, makes up a self-braided version of the Mourning Braids (It involves only braiding the hair from the shoulders down. That’s largely because he couldn’t raise his arms at that point, but it becomes a feature of all Mourning Braids—except Maglor’s style—for two ages to come.)

For the first time since the Ice, Fingolfin asks Fingon to do his hair, the morning after they hear of Morgoth’s victory.

He braids Rochallor’s mane and tail before setting out.

Rochallor walks back into Hithlum some days after the Eagle comes, his hair still braided. He lies down and dies with his head in Fingon’s arms.

Turgon braids his father’s hair before burying him, as he did with Elenwë, as he did with Aredhel. There is a custom that’s been developing among the Noldor of Beleriand to only give the dead a single, simple braid, so that they don’t risk being too attached to their body and miss the call from Mandos, but Turgon doesn’t know of it. No one has died in Gondolin since it was built, aside from Aredhel and Eöl.

Finrod and his Ten braid each other’s hair the night after they leave Nargothrond. Beren watches them with no understanding of the custom.

They later find out that werewolves spit out the hair when they devour someone.

It’s not a nice sight.

Beren and Lúthien do their best to clean Finrod’s beautiful golden braids of blood before they bury him, even though neither of them quite get what the braids mean to the Noldor.

Fingon’s golden ribbons are marred with blood when they find his body on the battlefield. His braids are the only way to identify him for certain.

Maedhros revives Maglor’s Mourning Braids. Mostly because Maglor does them for him. Maedhros would be fine with No One Ever Touching His Hair Again, but he’s close to catatonic.

Then the Oath awakes once more.

Celegorm’s white hunting braids and Dior’s black silky hair mingle on the blood-stained floor of Doriath’s throne room.

It takes Maglor longer to find Caranthir and Curufin. He carefully braids their hair into a single plait before they burn the bodies, in case it could help them find Mandos.

Maybe they are for the Void, but at least he feels like he’s done something.

The years up to the Third Kinslaying are awful. Maedhros and Maglor are codependent to an unhealthy degree, while the twins will barely speak to them, or each other. Maglor still does Maedhros’s hair. Maedhros doesn’t return the favour. They scream at each other daily.

Sirion is unthinkable. They attack anyway. Maedhros and Ambarussa’s braids look like bloodstains in the twilight.

Elwing’s hair floats around her as she falls.

To be continued

[multifanhoe99]

Kinktober Day 14- Succubus/Incubus

Pairings: Incubus!Yeonjun x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: Lots of endearing pet names, corruption kink, minor stalking, oral (m/f receiving), fingering, first-time, unprotected sex, creampie.

=Let me know if I missed any.=

18+ MDNI

PROMPT LIST

MASTERLIST

He had never come across anyone like you before. To him you were perfect. Gentle, sweet, caring, beautiful. Your smell intoxicated him and that is why he knew that he had to have you. You were his untainted angel and he'd be damned if he was not the first one to ruin you. Even just imagining it had his hunger growing. He wanted to see for himself how much more beautiful you'd look on your knees for him with saliva running down your face. Or even better how you'd sound calling out his name from beneath him as he brought you to your very first climax. It was so rare for him to find a woman this beautiful who had stayed pure for this long. He's not just talking about sex he means you are entirely pure never having even touched yourself. He could sense it.

He had caught scent of you one day in a local coffee shop. He goes there often to hunt for his meals. A bar or club would be easier but he liked the chase and more importantly, the energy that comes off a drunken one-night stand is not nearly as satisfying as the energy of passionate nights with someone he has carefully cultivated. His method was simple, at least it was to him, he would find someone at the coffee shop, follow them home, and then spend the next few weeks using his powers to slip into their dreams. He would be whatever they wanted, he would pleasure them, tempt them. Then, he would stage a run-in with them and they'd recognize the man of their dreams and he'd know just what to do to be able to get them home and let him in their bed. When he is finished and he has been thoroughly satisfied he erases all traces of him except the dreams. Even then they can never remember the face but they remember the great pleasure he brought.

That was his plan with you except when he realized that you were so pure he wanted so much more with you. So, he changed his usual routine slightly. He started a friendship with you that all started with an "accidentally" spilled coffee and some good conversation. This was going to be a longer play but he knew it'd be oh-so worth it in the end. After a few months, he began entering your dreams. He kept them sweet at first making you think that perhaps you were starting to develop feelings for your new friend. Then, he would reinact something from the dream in person for example bringing you your favorite flowers just because. This went on for another month or so and then he upped his game. He knew you were a fan of fantasy worlds so he came up with a plan to give you a recurring dream. All he did was place you into his world it was lush and green with the purest waters and exotic plants. You would wander around until you found yourself in a cave that had a pink liquid that ran like some sort of honey or syrup. That is where you would find Yeonjun looking absolutely ethereal. You already knew he was amazingly attractive and maybe that was part of the reason why you thought of him so often, but the way he looked now was different. In this dream, he led you around and showed you all the beautiful things and then he would kiss you passionately. The kiss of passion would lead to more. Gentle touches, bodies melding together, the feeling of great pleasure, and then right before the big climax of it all you would wake up. You woke up feeling hot and sweating. You had never felt like that before and you wanted more. This went on for a week before you decided to call Yeonjun over. You hoped that he would not be scared away when you told him about your dream.

This, however, is what he had been planning for. So, when you called him over and told him about your dream he had no plans of running away. He simply said, "Oh, darling if it's troubling you that much I can fix that."

"How? Yeonjun, what if it's bad I don't know what I am doing I have never done this before," you whined. It was music to his ears you were practically begging him to ruin you.

He grinned and stroked your face saying, "You have nothing to worry about my sweet angel I can teach you." With that, he leaned in to kiss you. It was soft but full of desire. He wanted you, no, he needed you badly and the way you shivered beneath his hands that squeezed at your hips he knew you needed him too. His kisses moved down to your neck nipping and licking at your most sensitive areas. His hands moved down to grope at your ass underneath your skirt.

"Ah, Yeonjun that feels so good. I-I want to make you feel good too. Teach me how," you begged. He could smell your arousal and it took everything in him to continue taking his time with you.

"How could I say no when my sweet asks me so nicely like that. Come kneel in front of me and I will teach you how to make me feel good," he said. When you were kneeling before him he slid his black pants and underwear down revealing to you his cock. You had never seen one before but you were pretty sure his had to be the most beautiful. It was long and thick and red and it instinctively made your mouth water.

"Come my pet," Yeonjun said sweetly, "Here is what you do. You're going to wrap your pretty little mouth around this. Make sure to be careful with your teeth and bob your head up and down. Think of it like eating a really yummy popsicle. If you can't take it all you just use your hands to reach the rest. Why don't you practice a little on my fingers." He put two of his fingers to your mouth for you to practice on. You took his digits into your mouth sucking them and running your tongue along them.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth using the leftover saliva on them to pump his dick, "Fuck baby, if you do that on my cock I am not sure I will be able to last. Let's find out huh?" He helps guide your head to his dick. You gladly took him in your mouth and did your best to take as much of him as you could. Taking his suggestion you used your hand to pump at what your mouth couldn't reach.

"Yes, angel just like that. Your mouth feels so good around me," he said. It was torture for him not you take control and fuck your throat but he knew he needed to take it slow with you. This time at least. He wanted to enjoy tainting his pure angel for as long as he possibly could. After a while, he pulled your mouth off him. Drool fell down your chin and you looked up at him with the most fucked out expression. It was even better than he imagined.

"Come now darling," he said helping you up and switching places with you, "It is your turn to feel good now." He reached up your skirt and removed your panties. There was a large wet spot on them and having the scent of your arousal so close almost threw him over the edge. He moved closer and began to lick at your sensitive clit. It was even better than in your dream. He pulled back only slightly to rewet his fingers to then slowly start inserting them into you. He started with one and then carefully added the second. The stretch was painful but bearable and was totally forgotten when he continued licking and sucking at your clit. He moved his fingers at a slow pace curling them up to reach your G-spot. He moved faster and faster.

"Jjunie, please I am ready," you began to beg, "Gimmie...gimmie more. Gimmie...gimmie more...please." He smirked and removed his fingers. He lined his tip up with your entrance rubbing it up and down your folds.

"Look at that," he said, "My sweet, innocent, angel begging to be filled up by my cock. You have no idea how long I have been wanting to ruin you. I am going to make you mine. This will hurt a bit but I promise I will go slow my sweet." That being said he began to start pushing in slowly. It did hurt but he went very slowly pushing in a little at a time and giving time for you to adjust. He distracted you by kissing at your neck again and soon he was all the way inside of you. It took all of his remaining restraint not you just hold your hips down and fuck into you.

He only moved when you whined out a pathetic, "I-I am ready Jjunie please move." That was all he needed. He started slowly only doing slow deep thrusts and then he sped up to a faster pace. He found a good rhythm that had you a moaning mess.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good for me," he said. You could no longer form sentences everything falling from your lips just moans and gibberish mixed with a please every so often. You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. It felt like the feeling in your dreams but more intense and you would not let it escape you this time.

"Oh, you must be close sweetheart," Yeonjun said, "You're squeezing me so tight. Let me help you with that." As he said that he reached down to rub at your clit. It only took a few seconds of that for the knot growing to snap. It was the most pleasure you had ever felt in your life and it had you floating. Yeonjun took this time to feast on the energy you released from your orgasm and it was better than he ever could have imagined. You were so sweet and addictive a sugar rush he never wanted to be rid of. So, he did something that he never had before. He continued fucking into you until he came to his own release.

"That's it, love," he said, "You can take it."

When all was done and you were all cleaned up, he did something else he never had before. He stayed, cuddled up next to you, and fell asleep alongside you. He was going to be the only one to see you like this. He was going to enjoy this sugar rush ride for as long as he possibly could.

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

A/N: Welcome to this man makes me ABSOLUTELY FERAL pt. 2. Also, yes, I did have to include all the Sugar Rush Ride references. Sue me. I am not sorry about it. Again, my asks are still open so send some requests in!

[tcfactory]

I know we technically have a canon look for Balduran as a combination of people peeling the hood off him in the flashback, the mural and the statues (and it was one of the things people gave me shit about when I initially tried to be more involved in the fandom), but I have a very 'it's boring so I'm ignoring it' reaction to it. Because come on, the man was a sailor and adventurer, are you really telling me he sat still long enough for people to get that good a likeness of him for his statues? Go wild, I say!

So here's the thought process behind my take on Balduran:

Probably looked quite ordinary as a baseline, like any other local guy. A little darker to begin with, he's going to spend his entire life at sea, let the guy have some melanin so he won't burn like a sad piece of toast. Has an uneven tan whenever he returns from a voyage, you know how that goes, no time to laze around and sunbathe for the sake of aesthetics when there's sailing to be done. His skin is windbitten and freckled, with the odd scar here and there. He can probably tell you where each scrape came from and he's remarkably consistent about it for someone who's making up at least half of these anecdotes, because "I slipped on a puddle when I tried to sneak up on Ansur for a kiss and headbutted him instead" is much too embarrassing to share in public.

A little older, at least forties, and has all the little signs to show for it - wrinkles (laugh lines!!) and white hairs, a lifetime of adventures tattooed all over his skin - maybe only in places where he can cover them up when making a public appearance, but this is a man who got tempted away on adventures over and over even when he already had a very good thing going on in Baldur's Gate, you can't tell me he wouldn't have the sea etched into every available inch of his skin.

His hair would be a very nice dark brown, if only he would stay out of the harsh sun for a few months. As it is, his hair is usually sun bleached and the texture leaves something to be desired too except for the times when he's grounded for an extended period of time for some reason or another. Probably wears it in a style popular around port, too, because he might be a high-charisma liar (rip Emperor, ceremorphosis tanked his charisma into the single digits), but he isn't ashamed of being a sailor. Has his ears pierced, but probably only puts in his earrings when he's on shore. I like the thought of him being like quarter-elf, with his ears just slightly pointy.

In general, he's the sort of man you could lose at the dock because he wouldn't look out of place at all. Especially if he takes his shirt off. Just one sailor among all the others, nothing to see here. You wouldn't clock him as The Balduran unless you knew or you saw him on the Wandering Eye.

Not how the city wanted to depict their founder, honestly. So there was some uuuuuh creative license employed when they made the statues. Because while it's all fun and games to have a local hero whose modus operandi is, at least part of the time, "I roll to seduce the sea monster and sneak away with the treasure while it's too busy making a fool of itself", it's a little awkward when he 100% looks that way too. That, sir, is a scoundrel, a trickster, an adventurer. A man who can say "my lady, I can't marry you because I have a dragon husband back in port and he's terribly jealous" and people don't doubt for a moment that he's telling the truth, because he looks the part. Of course Balduran kisses dragons, have you heard what other kinds of crazy nonsense he gets up to? Anyway...

[void-ink-studios]

Even More Parenting Nonsense

I talked at length about Scarab and his whole deal with parenthood. Seems only fair that I give my thoughts about Prismo, so here we go.

Also, y'all might've tempted me into writing something. Hope your happy with yourselves.

Prismo, despite being "Everybody's Pal" comes across to me as a very isolated being. His only company is superficial, except for Cosmic Owl, at least until Jake and later Scarab. He only interacts with other gods and the briefest of moments with mortals. So Prismo has almost... no experience with children. He understands the concept and theory, and would like to interact with kids, but it's only under very dire circumstances that a kid would ever be the one to find the Time Room. So, the prospect of parenthood is equal parts very exciting for him, and also completely terrifying.

He talks to Life about it. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. He probably tries to talk to Simon as well. But both sources had their own strangeness that makes their advice hard to apply. It mostly just leaves him feeling more lost and confused than before, but he's at least assured that kids know when/if their parents love them, and that goes a long way. It's the little bit of reassurance he needs because, despite whatever mistakes they might make, he knows that they'll both love this kid, and try their absolute best.

Prismo tries his best to stay calm when their kid is a grub in the burrow, because Scarab keeps assuring him that they'll be fine until they emerge, but it doesn't help much. He just knows that babies are fragile, their baby is alone in a hole, and that a lot of things could go wrong. He's kind of relieved when they emerge from the burrow early so he can hold them and be reassured that they're safe and sound.

I think Prismo is, above everything else, afraid. He's afraid of losing more people he loves, especially when this one is so tiny and reliant on him. He's afraid especially of Nightmo. He knows that Nightmo is a defense mechanism that only emerges during extreme negative emotion, but Nightmo is unpredictable. Yes, it did emerge when he wanted to protect Scarab, but then the Nightmare attacked the thing he was trying to protect because it does not recognize friend from foe. Prismo is terrifying Nightmo might do something terrible if it ever emerged around their child, and that Scarab would never forgive him for it.

Compared to Scarab, Prismo is a lot quicker to intervene if bad decisions are about to be made. While Scarab operates under the idea that 'experience is the best teacher', Prismo tries to more directly teach why something might be a good or bad idea. He's a lot more likely to explain the why, and a bit more directly involved in how things might play out.

Honestly, Scarab and Prismo together cover a lot of each other's weaknesses. Scarab is orderly and structured, able to place down rules to curb initial impulses. Prismo then intervenes if the kid still wants to do the thing against the rules. And if they go through with it anyway, Scarab is there to watch the consequences play out and basically ask "What did we learn from this?"

[noisynaia]

Two Doors Down

[Frankie Morales x Reader]

summary: You are getting over a breakup and decide to go to your friend and neighbour Benny's house party.

word count: 2.6k 

rating: M

pairing: Fransisco "Catfish" Morales x f!reader 

note: Drinking and smoking. No use of (y/n). The reader uses she/her pronouns. This has not been beta-read and English is not my native language. Part 2

crossposted on my ao3

The Dolly Series Masterlist

My main masterlist

…Two doors down

They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party

Two doors down

They're not aware that I'm around   

Cause here I am

Crying my heart out, feelin' sorry while

They're having a party just two doors down…      

      

It’s dumb, you’re feeling so fucking dumb. Here you’re sitting, on your kitchen floor, crying over the end of a relationship that you should never have been in to begin with. You could, now in hindsight, see that your relationship with Lance had been shit. He had not treated you well, he never put in the same effort as you had, yet he was always jealous when you wanted to spend time with your friends. It has almost been two weeks since you had caught him cheating and simultaneously broken up with him. 

You had not been crying over it for many days now, but it had been a tough week at work and it is like everything that had happened just feels too much .  

Maybe that is what is the true reason for your tears, not the sadness from a broken heart, but the sadness of realising that you had wasted so much time and energy on a person who didn’t deserve it. You sit for a little longer trying to force the tears to stop, you don’t want to spend the rest of the night like this.     

You raise your right arm over your head and plant your hand on the kitchen counter, slowly pulling yourself up from the floor. Your head is aching after all the tears and you feel the need for a cigarette. You usually never smoke inside, always retreating to your balcony, but you allow yourself to make an exception, this one time, and settle for just opening your kitchen window and turning on the extractor hood before you lit your cigarette. You can hear the music through your open kitchen window. 

You had totally forgotten about Benny’s party, you had actually told him you would stop by. Well, you had told him you might stop by if you didn’t feel too shitty in the light of your recent breakup. Benny had been very supportive and  had volunteered to go kick Lance’s ass, which you honestly had been tempted to let him.   

Benny lives in the apartment two doors down the hall from you. The two of you have established a pretty good friendship, he is the only person on the floor around your age, most of the other residents in your building are older. You know Benny has wanted you to meet his brother and his friends, who are gonna be there, for some time now. You rub your hand over your damp eyes and take the last drag of your cigarette before putting it out, letting a bit of water rinse over it and throw the bud in the trash.

You go to your bedroom and swing your wardrobe doors open with a little more force than needed, looking over your clothing options. You pull out a couple of items before your eyes land on a bordeaux red slip dress that goes to your midthigh. You change out of your sweatpants to put on a pair of nylon tights. You fix your hair and apply a little makeup, trying to hide your tear-stained face as good as you can before grabbing a thin black cardigan. You refuse to keep spending your Saturday night sitting on your kitchen floor in self-pity.   

…I think I'll dry these useless tears

And get myself together

I think I'll wonder down the hall

And have a look around

'Cause I can't stay inside

This lonely room and cry forever

I think I really rather join 'em

Two doors down, yeah…

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door to Benny’s apartment. A few seconds go by before the door swings open. 

“You came!” A very happy Ben has opened the door, clearly at least a couple of beers into the night already. 

“I’m so glad you’re here!” He throws his arms around you, pulling you into a bone-crushing bear hug. “You feeling okay?” He asks, much quieter, as he lets you go. 

You nod, offering him a weak smile. You don’t want to admit to have been crying less than 30 minutes ago. He smiles back at you understandingly. 

“Let’s get you a drink!” He declares leading you through the crowded apartment to the kitchen. “I have someone I would like you to meet, also I need to prove to my brother that I don’t live in a retirement community.” He sighs at the last past, it must be something he has been teased with. 

Three men are standing by the kitchen counter, a blonde man that you just know must be Will, the resembling to Benny is clear. You are less sure about the two other men, they must be friends of Will. One man with a charming crooked smile, a few silver strands mixed with dark curls. A slightly taller man in a black hat, who is fidgeting with the beer bottle in his hand, not looking as comfortable as his companions.              

“So, this is my brother William and his friends.”

Guys, this is my good friend and neighbour.” Benny exclaim, the men turning to look at you. 

“Can you fix her a drink while I go fix up the table? And be nice!” He says the last part as he gives the curly-haired man a stern look.        

“Hey! Santiago, but I can just be Santi to you.” The man with the curls tells you as he shakes your hand with a wink. Oh, he’s a flirt.  

You tell them your name and shake Will's hand before facing the last man. 

“I’m Frankie. Well, I’m Francisco, but people call me Frankie.” He is not coming off nearly as smoothly as Santi, but you can’t help but smile at him.   

You stand there a little awkward for a moment, but the conversation is soon picking up and you actually have a pretty good time. The guys are both nice and funny, not that you would expect anything else from the brother and friends of Benny.    

You talk for a while, sipping on the greyhound Santi had made you.    

“Ey, beer pong tournament! Are you guys playing?” Benny, who has come back in the kitchen, yells excitedly, getting two six packs from the fridge.  

Santi is quick to express his excitement  

Your stomach drops at the thought of having to chase after a ping pong ball at a party full of strangers. It sounds like your worst nightmare. 

“I think I’ll skip.” You declare.     

 Santi claps his hand on Frankies back. “Ya’ gonna play, Fish?”

Fish..?

Frankie doesn't look like he wants to play, his expression a stark contrast to Santi’s. 

“Nah, I think I’ll sit this one out.” Frankie croaks.  

“Suite yourself.” Santi shrugs. “You gonna partner up with me then, Benny boy?”

And by that, you are left alone in the kitchen with Frankie.

“Uhm, I think I’ll go for a smoke.” You mumble, fumbling with the clasp on your little handbag to get your lighter and your pack of cigarettes.

“Do you maybe wanna come and keep me company?” You look up at Frankie.   

He was the quietest when you had spoken with him and the others, but you like his vibe and you have to admit that he is very easy on the eyes. Brown hair is sticking out from the black baseball hat he is wearing, a breathtaking smile, broad shoulders and a pair of warm brown eyes.     

Frankie smiles and gives you a nod, emptying his beer before following you out on the balcony. You wrap your cardigan a little tighter around your torso as you’re hit by the cool night air. You lean your left side up against the brick wall, Frankie mirrors you leaning his right side against the wall so you’re facing each other.  

“Want one?” You ask before putting the cigarette between your lips. He accepts your offer with a small smile and you hand him your lighter after litting your own cigarette.      

“So… Fish? ” You ask as you breathe out a cloud of smoke, tilting your head slightly, not wanting to blow it directly into his face.  

“The guys and I.” He tilts his head at the balcony door. “We’re old military buddies.” He shrugs. “My code name was Catfish, guess things like that just stick” He shakes his head with a smile and you can’t stop yourself from smiling too. It makes sense, Benny had told you his brother had served.   

“Well, Fish, tell me more about yourself.” You prompt with a smile. And he does. 

What should have been a five-minute smoke turns into a long conversation where the two of you take turns telling each other about yourself. 

…'Cause here I am

No longer cryin' an' feelin' sorry

We're having a party just two doors down…

Almost an hour has gone by and the two of you have forgotten the party completely, the only reminder is the music coming from inside the apartment. His baritone voice and warm eyes have captivated you and as the sound of his warm bubbly laugh hits your ears something warm blooms in your chest. 

You like him more and more the more you get to know him. You probably shouldn’t let yourself feel like this so quickly after your breakup, but you really can’t stop the warm yearning feeling his smile is creating in your heart.      

…I can't believe I'm standin' here

Dry-eyed, all smiles and talkin'

Making conversation with the new love I have found

I ask him if he's like to be alone and we start walkin'

Down the hall to my place waitin' two doors down, yeah…

The conversation has landed on movies.

“Okay, it doesn’t have to be your favourite, but what movie have you rewatched the most?” You ask with a smile.

“Honestly… Probably Winnie the Pooh.” He shakes his head with a shrug and smile.  

“ Winnie the Pooh?! ” You giggle.   

“Yeah…” Frankie clears his throat, looking nervous all of a sudden. “I have a little girl, so…”

“Oh, you do?” You say with a smile, trying to not sound surprised. Him having a kid doesn't scare you away and something about him being a girl-dad makes perfect sense to you. There is a little voice of worry in the back of your head though, not from him being a dad, but Frankie being a father means that there is a mother. He is not wearing a ring and nothing about your conversation has implied that he is married or in a relationship. But you had just caught Lance cheating. It would break your heart if you were flirting with another woman’s man right now.

“Yeah, Solana, she is three.” He continues. “Her mother and I got divorced when she was still a baby. She stays with me every other weekend.”  

The worry you felt disappears completely and you can’t help but give him a wide smile. 

“Can I see a picture?” You ask, wanting him to know that you don’t have anything against him having a child.    

A little girl with big chestnut-brown eyes and fluffy brown curls is smiling at the camera.     

“Oh, she’s so cute.” You coo, and you mean it, she is absolutely adorable. 

“Looks like her daddy.” You giggle, the resemblance is uncanny.  

“I guess she does.” He sighs at the phone screen. “Poor baby.” He jokes, but you feel that there is something more to his words.      

You look up at him with a frown. “I don’t think it is a bad thing.” You murmur. 

You don’t want to overstep, but you hate the idea of him thinking he isn’t good enough. 

“I know I’ve just met you Frankie, but I think she is pretty lucky to have you as her father.”

“You do?” He asks, voice low and soft.

“Yeah, I do.” You whisper, not noticing that you have taken a step closer towards him.  

He shifts a little, leaning his body slightly towards you. He looks deeply into your eyes and you think your heart skips a beat. He gently cups your cheek, and you lean into his touch. Your pulse quickens from the feeling of his warm skin on you.

And then you’re kissing him. 

…Two doors down

They're laughing and drinkin', and having a party

Two doors down

We're not aware that they're around …

His lips are soft, tasting of the beer he’s been drinking, with a slight ashy aftertaste from the smoke. Your own lips probably taste the same. You completely melt into his touch, finding a rhythm of gentle movements, getting familiar with the shape of him and you love it.

You open your mouth a little wider, slightly tilting your head to the side. Giving Frankie space to deepen the kiss and he does. He removes his hat to not poke you with the visor. 

Your hand comes up to grab the now-exposed curls at the back of his head, your other hand is buried in the fabric of his shirt. 

You moan softly into the kiss as Frankie slips his tongue deeper into your mouth. Your grip on his hair tightens, and you can feel the fire in your lower stomach enlight. 

You finally break the kiss both gasping for air. His thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looks down at you with those deep warm eyes of his.    

“You know, uhm…” You pant out, suddenly feeling very nervous. “I live just down the hall if you… You know… Want to be alone.”  

“Yeah, I… I would like that.” He nods. 

     

…'Cause here I am

Feelin' everything but sorry

We're having our own party two doors down …

You roam around your bag to get the key to your apartment. You had tried to ignore the look Benny had given you when you told him that you left. The others had been too engulfed in their game to notice that you and Frankie had been staying out on the balcony all night, but you leaving with Frankie gained their attention. Santi had given Frankie a thumbs up as you left which had made Frankie blush severely. 

You finally get the key, fumbling with the lock before you can get the door open and let Frankie into your home.     

Frankie closes the distance between you as soon as the door has closed behind you. You place a hand in his hair, grabbing the soft curls, softly pressing him closer, and deepening the kiss.

You stumble through your apartment until you reach your coach where the two of you collapse, you on top of Frankie. 

His warm tongue slipping between your kiss-swollen lips. You really like him and you want more, you really do, but you are not sure if it is a good idea. You might have just come out of a relationship, but It’s been a long time since you have felt like this with anyone and you’re afraid of ruining it. He breaks the kiss before you can worry any further. 

“Sorry, I…” He whispers, slowly pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just, I think I would like to get to know you better. If that is what you want too, of course." He looks nervous. “Maybe I could take you out on a date?” 

“I would like to get to know you better, Francisco. And I would love to go on a date with you.” You tell him softly.

He smiles wide with relief and his lips are back on yours. The kiss is so sweet it makes your chest feel warm and content. Maybe this really can be the start of something beautiful.

[pigeonwhumps]

The Little Android

Everything taglist: @painful-pooch @i-eat-worlds @a-funeral-romance @rainydaywhump

My entry for the Once Upon a Blade anthology by @thewhumpyprintingpress (which is really good btw, you should buy it if you can) which I've been meaning to post for months.

An android whump retelling of The Little Matchgirl by Hans Christian Anderson.

1.2k

CWs: android whump, torture, dehumanisation, slavery, denial of basic needs, threats of death, implied major character death

The android sits down against the wall of a crowded metal walkway, box of batteries in its hand. One arm is made up of loose wires and artificial nerve endings left when the attachment was ripped from its socket, and as they brush against the wall they send a jolt of pain through its systems, almost causing it to drop the box. If only its owner had deactivated its pain circuits after the experiment was completed, but he thought they would be useful to control it. And as a synthetic life form, it does not have the right to deactivate them itself.

It needs to sell these batteries. Oh, they look so tempting, they could power it for the day it’s sure, it would have constant heating and a properly working voice and its power wouldn’t flicker out so often. But it’ll get credits if it sells them, and it’s therefore less likely to end up on the scrap heap.

It tries for eight point seven hours, but it doesn’t make a single credit. Passers-by barely give it a second glance. If it’s lucky. Some step around it with a wide berth, giving it dirty looks and whispering behind their hands (sometimes not even whispering, it doesn’t matter, it’s not a human after all). A few teenagers make a game of tugging at its exposed nerve endings to see who can make it scream the loudest, and nobody stops them, they just look annoyed at the noise. It’s moved on by security more than once.

Finally the lights in the station switch to night mode, dimming and turning slightly orange, reducing the blue light. Usually the android would adjust its vision to compensate so it could keep working with ease but that function no longer works.

The place it was last moved along to, where it is now, gets almost no night traffic. There’re no shops or clubs or living hubs, there’s no reason to come here unless you’re maintenance staff, who can’t, or won’t, buy from it anyway. There’s no point staying.

Except if it goes back to the shop with no credits again, it will be deemed useless and stripped for parts. Maybe even without its pain circuits being deactivated first.

Its power flickers out for a few seconds. When it restarts, the android is on the floor. It doesn’t know how long it was out, which is unnerving but common recently.

Maybe just a little boost of battery power. Just to keep it going.

It chooses a battery, unwraps it with stiff, creaky fingers, and plugs it into a port on its side.

The power zaps around its body and it feels a simulation of warmth for the first time in so long. It’s almost comfortable.

In the distance, it sees its makers’ workshop. They’re laughing and joking together as they start up the charger, preparing to test parts that the android knows are custom-made. It used to help with the more dangerous parts of the job, before they ran out of money and were forced to sell it.

It feels so warm and cosy, and as the light envelopes it, it opens its mouth to speak.

The light disappears. The warmth disappears. The android tries to hang on but it must have had a power surge in its decision-making module.

It feels even colder now. Any warmth is gone, any semblance of care from someone else. What does it have in its life, really? No-one does anything except order it around and stimulate its pain circuits. Nobody even interferes when the pain is malicious. Not anymore.

It takes out another battery. If it’s going to be scrapped anyway it might as well make it worth it.

As soon as it’s plugged in, the station disappears. It’s inside a charging station, one of the ones for VIPs and their androids. It had a job cleaning these, once. Mobile charging packs, as much premium oil as the android can drink, oiled joints, comfortable places to stand or sit… it has dreamed about them, sometimes. It was allowed to drink the last dregs of oil and it really was premium.

This one is busy with humans in fancy clothes and the latest models, so much more advanced than itself. No-one is paying attention to the android, and it walks through the central aisle, approaching a serving station. It reaches out a hand for an oil can, wires jittering in anticipation at the taste, the feel of its body afterwards—

The illusion fades.

The android is left cold and alone on the floor of the space station. There’s not much use for softness for androids but oh, how it wishes. It’s been so long since it had oil, only getting just enough lubrication to stop it from rusting entirely. It doesn’t deserve anything more until it starts to be useful. But it won’t be, and it just feels empty.

It’s startled out of its reverie by a beep beep beep of warning. Its power is depleting even faster than normal. If it doesn’t get to a charging point soon it’ll power down for good.

Surprisingly, the android finds itself not caring overly much anymore. What does it have to go back to, after all?

The android plugs in another battery.

It’s on a starship deck in night mode. The observation deck. It’s always wished to be stationed on one of these. It’s charging against a wall, sitting down, and it can see the stars.

They’re bright spots against the darkness, mostly, but in the distance it can see nebulas, colourful clouds of dust and stars. That’s when it realises its vision is fixed. It can see properly, for the first time is years. Who bothered to fix that?

Then reality hits it. Nobody did. The android here, the one with the fixed vision and someone who cares and such a good posting, it doesn’t exist. This is a dream. An illusion. Something it’ll never get.

It touches its reflection in the glass, feeling a pang from somewhere inside that shouldn’t exist. It’s been fixed, like a patchwork, different colours and textures of paintwork, but it’s more than it will ever really have, more than it deserves. Engine oil leaks slightly from the edges of its vision sensors. Good quality oil too. It really is getting the best on this dreamship.

It can feel itself fading. Its consciousness is fading. And it’s nowhere near a power socket really, so it’ll deactivate permanently this time.

But it doesn’t have anything to lose. There’s no-one who cares, no-one who won’t take it apart for scrap as soon as it returns with no credits and barely any batteries. No-one will mourn it if it stays here. Someone will take the batteries and someone will take its parts and they’ll sell both but they won’t care. What’s the point?

The android sinks back down, leaning back against its comfortable charging wall. It closes its eyes for the last time to an exploding supernova.

The science doesn’t really make sense. But it’s far too tired to care.

[porcelainmortal]

Welcome to Ficlet Friday! I'd like 🧖🏻‍♀️ and I don't mind the characters, your choice 😊

(also no pressure to get them done by Friday, I tend to spread them out over the week & aim to be done by the following Friday 😘)

Thank you for the ask, Taylor!

Since you were my second 🧖🏻‍♀️ Spa Day prompt, I took it upon myself to write a two-part ficlet. The first part can be read here and the second is below the cut! It's slightly horny, so be forewarned.

(I also am incredibly proud that both of these ficlets clock in at exactly 720 words. So.)

Spa Day Part 2

Alex wasn’t sure what to expect from the seaweed body wrap, but it turns out to be pretty cool. Despite feeling like a burrito for a while and the slightly awkward part of showering naked while his esthetician waited outside the door, he likes it. His skin feels soft and smooth and refreshed. The facial was even better; his face is rosy from all the massage, but it feels amazing and it looks bright and clear. He wants to do this every week.

When he finally lays eyes on Henry again, Alex can barely contain the huge smile that splits across his face. They’re in the communal room, off of which lay the steam room and the sauna.

“Hey baby, how was it?” Alex leans in to kiss him and notices that Henry smells really fucking good. He pulls Alex into his arms and he goes easily, pushing his hands through Henry’s hair, which is still damp from his own post-seaweed-wrap shower.

“It was really nice,” Henry sighs, dropping his nose to Alex’s pulse point. “Mm, you smell good.”

“I was just about to say the same thing to you,” Alex laughs, running his nose along Henry’s neck before nipping at his earlobe. 

“Don’t get fresh, love,” Henry chastizes. He counteracts his words by running his hands down to paw at Alex’s ass, pulling them flush. Alex cranes his neck just enough to look at him.

“Are you horny?”

“Perhaps,” Henry grins wickedly.

“We’re in a communal area,” Alex says, scandalized.

“The spa is closed just for us,” Henry replies, leaning down to kiss him softly.

“Save it for after the massage, baby.”

“Mm, don’t want to,” Henry moans, dipping his head to mouth along Alex’s throat. 

“I know, but by then we’ll be really relaxed and all oiled up.”

“Well that’s tempting,” Henry grins, raising his head to meet Alex’s eyes. 

“Come on.” Alex takes Henry’s hand and pulls him into the sauna.

Alex is thankful that their massage therapists are women; it’s probably good that Henry doesn’t have a young, buff man rubbing him. Alex’s therapist is older and unattractive, so at least there aren’t more factors working against his attempts to stay modest. The rubbing in all of Alex’s sensitive areas is one thing, but listening to Henry moan his way through his massage has Alex half-hard where he’s face down in the massage table. He’s hoping and praying that it goes away by the time his therapist asks him to flip over. 

At first, Alex tries to engage Henry in conversation. However, he quickly realizes that listening to his breathy voice occasionally cutting off with a groan when a muscle is released is doing nothing for Alex’s situation. He tries to focus on his own massage and some deep breathing exercises, and by the time they finally flip over, he’s actually pretty relaxed. Alex hears soft snoring and looks over to see Henry asleep. He smiles to himself, knowing that Henry hasn’t slept well since before he went to London.

When the massage ends, Henry’s therapist wakes him gently and the two women slip out. Alex sits up slowly, stretching out his muscles. He feels fucking good.

“So?”

Henry looks over, blinking sleepily. He yawns. 

“I feel bloody fantastic.”

“I knew you would,” Alex grins. “Ready to head back to the room?”

“Please. I think I could go right back to sleep,” Henry says as he stands and pulls his robe back on. 

“Really? Because with the exception of the last 15 minutes, I had to listen to you moan all the way through that massage. I kept hoping we wouldn’t get kicked out for indecency.” Alex chuckles and steps over to wrap his arms around Henry’s waist.

“You’re one to talk,” Henry says, leaning down to kiss him. It’s chaste and sweet at first, but Alex deepens it, his breath hitching when Henry pulls back. “Alex,” he whispers.

“Yes, baby?”

“We need to get up to our room now.” The deep, husky quality of Henry’s voice has Alex nodding enthusiastically. “Yes, please.” He takes Henry’s hand and pulls him out the door. The time it takes to get back up to their room feels interminable but Alex knows it will be worth it. Henry thinks he’s relaxed now, but Alex’s isn’t done with him yet.

Ficlet Friday Summer/Holiday Prompts

[faegoddessog]

Not 'till Monday

Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, clit play, fellatio, cum swallowing, cunnilingus, snowballing (male to female), Austin taking SUCH good care of you is SO many ways.

Summary: Recovering from surgery is tough. Doing it with Austin at your side is amazing with one exception-no orgasms allowed. I mean how did the doctor expect you to NOT be turned on when Austin is caring for you? It was fine for the first bit, but as you near the end of your blackout period it gets harder and harder, especially when he's vowed to abstain as well. Monday morning could not come soon enough and that goes for the both of you.

A/N: This little one shot was inspired by a convo with @purejasmine. I basically vomited it up in 24 hours. There are wee references to my other works and yeah, I have completely self serving fantasy that he'd read my work and go... 'damn... that's hot'. LOL! Let a girl dream!!!

Enjoy! let know if you'd like to be added to my tags list!

@purejasmine @slowsweetlove @richardslady121 @austinbutlerslovers

You weren’t gonna read it, your T-besties new dirty smut,  but the line just jumped out at you and now you couldn’t stop reading and re-reading just that one line.

“Is this what you want? For me to fill you with my cock?” 

Holy. Fuck. You shouldn’t be, but you are so fucking turned on right now. The fucking buzzing and throbbing of your pussy is out of control! Fuck! It is so intense, it's no joke.  You give in and read on. When you get to the mutual orgasm part, you squirm in your seat feeling your wetness literally bubbling out. What the actual fuck!

“I can control myself” you think, literally shaking.

Your throat vibrates with a needy groan as you toss your head back. ”Stop triggering me, bro!” you assert to the ceiling. 

“Are you ok, Princess?” his concerned voice calls down the hall from your bedroom. 

“Yes, I’m fine.. Well not fine.. But I’m ok” you shake your head, sighing, texting your t-bestie to fucking stop, tongue in cheek of course. You never want her to stop. 

“What’s wrong, what’d I do Baby,” his voice is hot in your ear, just moments before his hand crosses your upper chest. 

“Nothing you did Austin, my love. She’s just at it again,” you hold up your phone to show him the latest smut. 

“Princess, you should not tempt yourself. You know the doctor said no orgasms, not until Monday. You can hold out a couple more days,” he lightly kisses your cheek and walks around to sit on the couch with you. 

“I know, I know and I’ve been really good and you’ve been amazing. But she writes you so well… plus just having you around keeps me wet all the time.” 

“MMM I know, that’s one of a long list of my favorite things about you,” he purrs at you.

Austin has been a freaking angel sent from the beyond since your surgery.  Well, longer than that. He’s cooked for you, made sure you’ve stayed on top of your pain meds, stayed up at night to hold you in his arms until you fall asleep. He’s never missed a chance to take your walks with you. Even though they’ve had to be a little slower than usual. He holds your hand and points out animals and trees and the beauty of nature. You are so in love with him, he is the best thing that ever happened in your life. He even declined a project that was supposed to be starting this month because he knew you’d need him. 

“Bah, there will be others,” he’d said when you had protested, “I wasn’t sure I wanted to do it anyway. And I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you after surgery.” 

The flip side is that everything he does just turns you on, he is like your own personal interactive pornography. You have excellent self control, something you’d had to cultivate in your previous, toxic relationship. But this was testing your limits, you were starting to have a hard time concentrating on anything.

“I love that you don’t get weirded out by reading her smut that is about you.”  You nestle into his arms.  You two frequently read her stories together, getting so turned on that you fucked like bunnies. She absolutely loved the idea that her mind fuckery got the two of you off. 

“Heck no, not when she’s given us some of the best fucking ideas… like that one about cockwarming…or the one where I dominate you and call you Pet… damn that was one hot time.” He reaches down and adjusts himself. It’s been a while for him too, he vowed no orgasms for himself in solidarity. 

“Sweetheart,” you cover his hand with your own, your pinky brushing his burgeoning bulge, “if you want to you can jerk off. You want to cum in my mouth?” You feel bad for him, and you fucking love the taste of his cum. The idea of it makes your pussy throb. 

“No, no my Princess. I made a vow and I’m sticking to it. Besides, I was once a teenaged boy, I’ve had plenty of hard-ons that I’ve not played with, and I KNOW how hot that makes you. No way.” 

 He stands up and offers both hands to help you stand up. 

“C’mon, I have a surprise for you.” 

He leads you down the hallway, through your shared bedroom and into the bathroom. The tub is filled with steaming water, the scent of lavender and chamomile drift in the air. Two glasses of sparkling water and a plate of your favorite foods sit by the side. You two bought this house in part because of the huge tub. Both of you love baths and wanted something big enough that you could share. 

Austin helps you strip naked, put your hair up, and get into the bath before stripping off his clothes. If this was supposed to help you calm down, it’s a disaster. You fucking love the sight of him. He has been working out especially hard and he is fucking ripped right now. His lats pop and the ripples of his torso are fucking gorgeous as he bends to pull his joggers off. He doesn't quite get the first leg off and hops a little, giggling. He is so adorable and sexy at the same time, quite the enigma.  

You lean forward as he slides in behind you. You feel the hardness of his cock slide down your back and nestle at the base of your spine. He wraps you in his kind, gentle, strong arms. You melt. 

“Fuck Austin, I know you meant this to help… but it’s fucking hot,” you are struggling to keep your hips still.

“You want me to run some cold water?” he says helpfully. 

You purse your lips and twist to look at him. He is smiling ear to ear, chuckling. He knows what you meant. 

“Just wait love,” he whispers in your ear, “wait and I'll give you the most mind-blowing orgasm with my mouth in a couple days.  Then I’ll cum on your tongue, but you have to promise to swallow.” As though you’d ever do anything else but swallow his seed. His cock twitches against your back, his teasing of you is turning him on too. 

“Austin, you are not actually helping.” you giggle. Giggling is the only recourse you have right now. You fucking love this teasing, love this mind fuckery. At least you know you’ll get it eventually. Get his mouth, his tongue, his fingers, his body, his cock, his cum. FUCK now YOU are not helping. 

“I’m sorry my love, here let me feed you. At least we can appease your slutty tastebuds if not your slutty pussy,” he kisses your cheek and grabs the plate. 

“My pussy isn’t slutty!” you say with mock indignation, “it’s only for you Austin. How can it be slutty?” 

“Mmm, you are right,” he reaches down to cup your pussy in his hand, but stops himself just before plunging into the water. making a fist instead 

“Your wickedly wonton pussy, then” he breathes into your ear. Dear goddess in heaven, he is not making this easy.

He proceeds to give you little tidbits of perfectly cooked bacon, rare steak with goats cheese, roasted root veggies, fruit and yogurt, perfectly ripe avacados. You suck the bits off his fingers as he feeds you. 

“My Princess needs her protein for healing,” he kept saying every time he cooked for you inthe past two weeks. He did, indeed, treat you like a princess. 

The next two days pass without incident. There are no new story updates, and Austin keeps it surprisingly G rated. Though there is an undercurrent of sexual tension throughout the house. Sunday night is like fucking Chistmas eve, the anticipation is driving you mad in the best kind of way. As you cuddle on the couch watching a film, a standard Sunday night in your joint home, his arm is draped over your shoulder. His fingers lightly stroke your collarbone. You think they are shaking slightly, as though he is a nervous teenager hoping for a gratuitous movie theater-like grope session.   Is your mind playing fuckery tricks with you? 

You hear him sigh. It’s nothing to do with the movie on the screen. You thread your fingers through his, rubbing your thumb on his palm. You can feel his eyes on you. You tilt your head up to look at his perfect face. His little dimple appears, the one that you can’t help but kiss. Now is no different. You lean up and press your lips to his. His fingers curl around yours as he deepens the kiss almost instantly. You are instantly wet, well, more so than you always are with him. Your tongues touch then caress lips. Lips are momentarily trapped by teeth, before opening to be sucked and stroked by tongues ones again. God his kisses are like fuel to your fire. Your hand drops to his chest, and you turn towards him, fully engaging in the act of kissing this perfectly amazing man. Kissing that quickly ripens into full on making out, including his hand sliding up your shirt to fondle your breasts. Movie theater grope session indeed. 

The blaze of passion that ignites in your belly is ridiculous. This is the first time you’ve really kissed like this since the surgery.  The forbidden fruit effect is full on. The fact that you can't have it, makes you want it all the more.  

‘Fuck it’, you think, your mind clouded with lust, ’what is a few less hours.’

You move to straddle him and at the same time your hand reaches to undo the button on your jeans. 

“Whoa, Princess,” his deep voice husky with desire, “not below the waist, not until tomorrow.”

“But…” your face is a mask of petulance, forehead crinkled down and lip stuck out. Your frustration is evident. 

“No, my Love, I promised I’d take care of you and that means following doctors orders. No orgasms until Monday, and four weeks still until I get to sink into your tightness,” he reaches out to pet your protruding lip with one long finger. The finger that you want rubbing your clit right now. “I’m sorry I gave in to temptation, Baby.” With both hands he tilts your head down and kisses your forehead. 

You close your eyes, breathing deep. He is right, dammit. 

Later that night, he is propped up against the headboard. You curl up in his arms, grateful for his love of a good snuggle. He opens the book he is reading out loud to you. His gorgeous baritone lulls you to sleep.

You must be in an orchard, you have to be. What else smells like vanilla and citrus? The tall grass you are walking through brushes against your naked butt. The grass reaches and gropes along your thighs, trying to get to your pussy.  It feels good, the grass caresses your ass. You realize it’s not the grass but a shining ethereal being standing next to you, hands cupping your genitals front and back. Warmth radiates from its hands and soaks into your skin. You feel an intrusion inside you, malleable and warm. A sense of peace glows in you, from the inside out and the light erupts from your sacral chakra, like water over pouring from a vase. It feels divine, like an orgasm of light. Then you feel a concentrated rubbing against your mons. You hear a moaning and realize it’s your voice. 

You come to full waking consciousness and feel Austin next to you, on his side.  The palm of his hand rubbing circles on your vulva. You realize you have been moaning and just came in your dream, or maybe here in waking life too. 

“Yeah,” you hear in your ear, “that’s it, cum for me.” You can smell the orange and vanilla on his wrist as he brushes hair away from your face.

You eyes flutter open so see Austin staring at you, biting his bottom lip, nostrils flaring. When he sees your eyes open, his mouth curves just enough to expose the dimple at the corner of his lip. That fucking dimple, it melts you. Then his mouth is on yours hard and fast, the clean taste indicating that he brushed his teeth and rinsed with mouthwash. 

His finger dips inbetween your labia, you are so fucking wet, he doens’t even need to pull wetness over your clit. It’s already bathed in your juices. You are pretty sure that you already came once, which is fantastic as you were nervous that something inside might hurt when you finally got to orgasm. 

His fingers start working their magic, circling the hood of your clit, over and over. Then switching side to side. His mouth is constantly on yours. You want to stop him and tell him you want his beautiful mouth on your pussy, but it all feels so good. Usually he would gradually get faster, but he keeps a steady pace. It’s mere minutes and your orgasm washes over you. Your body freezes,  spine jerking and your little grunts are swallowed by Ausitn’s mouth. 

“That’s my girl,” he gently pets your vulva, “How was that my love?” 

“Please, please keep going,” you pant, eyes pleading for the overstimulation that he is so freaking good at. You can’t stop your hips from pushing forward and back against his hand.

“No babe, we are gonna take it slow at first,” he smiles, eyes full of love, “don’t want anything to… burst or whatever with a crazy hard orgasm.”

“Hmmmmm” your voice whines, “can I at least have your cum, baby. I need it.”

“That I can do,” he nods imperceptibly, “C’mere sugar.”

You help him pull back the covers as you sit up,  unwrapping his gorgeously perfect naked form next to you. His cockstand is a fucking dream, thick and long lying on his chiseled stomach. Your pussy practically drips at the sight of it.  You snag the bottle of water from the bedside table and quickly drain it. 

“Get that mouth down there, I need to be wet,” his voice is grizzly with need. 

You could live off Austin’s cum. In fact you usually get it almost every day. The past two weeks have been torture, not having his milky seed in your mouth. 

Eagerly you straddle his leg, bending down. He pulls your hair, still in its sleepy bunny ears, away from your face. He fucking loves watching your mouth on him. You lick your lips, looking at his eyes as he tucks one hand behind his head for a better view.  He knows you struggle with your gag reflex and he has never asked you to go beyond your comfort zone. 

Tongue out, you lick his soft tip. He releases a shaky sigh. He has missed this too. You bring your lips together pushing saliva out between the seam with your tongue, letting it run down his cock. You push your closed mouth down, tongue flicking his tiny hole. You seal your lips over his red tip,  chasing the rivulets and sucking them back up as you pull back. You dive down again, only taking his tip. Your cheeks hollow and the sound of wet suction follows. 

“Oh my god, Princess” he breathes.

You rub your smiling lips along his tip in a figure eight, like lip balm. You love hearing his sounds of pleasure. You engulf his head again, just a little farther this time. Your tongue rubs side to side along his frenulum. You bob up and down, up and down, tongue working him, slurping on the end of his cock.  

He moans, his hand rubbing down his stomach to the inside curve of his pelvis. His thumb and forefinger catching up the root of his cock. His long middle and ring fingers falling in the crevice next to his balls. 

“Yeah, that’s it gorgeous. Get me all wet with that pretty mouth,” he croons at you. His glutes start flexing slightly,  pushing his cock up. He’s trying for all he’s worth not to fuck your mouth. 

“Princess, I gotta… I’m… I need…oh god” he moans, not able to finish any sentence. You pull back as he holds his hand out, you drip spit into his hand and he wraps that big fist around that big cock. His hips thrusting up into his hand almost violently. He is so considerate and didn't want to do that into your mouth and make you choke. Clearly the last two weeks have taken their toll on his self control. 

You love seeing him play with himself. Last summer,  you ‘caught’ him jerking off. He had thought you had left.  You’d ran back inside to get something you forgot when you heard his moan. Peeking through the door, your pussy had gotten so wet when you saw him sitting at his desk, laptop open. You had almost slipped into his office to help, but when you realized what he was watching, you were too beguiled to interrupt. It was a video you two had made. A close up of your lips around his cock, both oral and vaginal. You didn’t let him know you were there, but you watched through the sliver of the door as he stroked himself to climax. Your hand was down your pants and your finger on your wet, wet clit.  It was so fucking hot. You loved the idea of being his porn. 

Now, your pussy is again activated watching him pump himself. You realize you have lowered down to his knee and are rubbing your wet pussy on his thigh, riding him.

“Fuck, Princess. That is so hot, you are dripping down my leg,” he seethes through his clenched jaw. “GAH!” he tosses his head back, a sure sign that he is close. His hand speeds up, and stops, speeds up and stops, edging himself just a bit. His forehead is pulled down in concentration, his plush lips form a little ‘o’ as he pants.

Holy fuck, he could not be hotter in this moment. His bicep bulging,  his pecs popped, abs contracted and tight, forearm veiny with effort, thigh flexed and wet with your juices.  Your mouth is open, tongue flicking.nYour pussy lips dragging back and forth over his skin. Fuck, it feels so good. So much deprivation has made you ultra sensitive. 

“Get that greedy tongue down there, so I can cum all over it,” he puffs out. 

You tip your head down. His legs are long enough that you can still rub against him and reach his cock with your mouth. Your tongue is out ready to catch. 

“Yesssss, here it comes,” he moans. 

The warm milky cum spatters your tongue, you know how much he likes to see it hit your mouth.  He groans in appreciation. Then you are down on him, sucking lightly, not wasting a single drop. It’s so fucking hot, such an activation for you to have his cum in your mouth. You sit up and grind into his tight quads just at the insertion on the patellar tendon. It's the perfect dune of muscle to rub your clit on.  You moan around your mouthful of cum, your tongue rubbing it along the roof of your mouth. 

“That’s it Princess, get it,” his hand is still on his cock, lightly stroking himself. He is so fucking turned on with your wanton display. His other hand is on your knee, somehow wanting to help, but not wanting to interrupt your flow. 

Your pussy tightens, good lord the friction feels good. Just as you can feel yourself tipping over that brink, you let his cum slide down your throat. Your eyes roll back in your head and your pussy gushes as your hips freeze forward. Your hips and head jerk in unison, grinding your pussy down on him with each jerk. It’s nearly overstimulating… nearly. 

You fall forward onto him, ass in the air, panting, shaking. He catches you with waiting arms. 

Cradling your head on his chest. 

“You good, Princess?” there is just a touch of concern in his voice. You love how he loves you. 

You nod, slowly getting your breath under control.

“Could be better,” you look up at him with a glint in your eye. 

“Oh yeah,” he gently swipes at a creamy drop on the corner of your mouth, offering the drop to your mouth. You greedily lick it from his finger. 

“Yeah,” you say after rolling the salty tang around your mouth, “I, uh, I seem to remember a promise a certain hot fucking man made me. One of a mindblowing orgasm with his talented mouth.” You smile at him,  running a finger along  the border of his lips. Those perfect fucking lips. 

“Oh yeah, when is he getting here?” he jests, chuckling.

You purse your lips and shake your head, you love his silly goofy side.

“Austin,” you kiss his mouth then roll off him, legs wide,”get down there and make good.” 

His eyes smolder at you, he loves it when you have just a touch of command in your voice. It usually doesn't last long, as he likes being in control in the bedroom, but it turns him on nonetheless. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he nods. Catlike he flips on top of you and slides down your body. In supporting his upper body weight, his shoulders bulge and ripple. That and his ocean blue eyes never leaving yours is enough to set you off.

He wraps his arms under your upper thighs. 

He inhales the smell of you.

His eyes close and he moans in pleasure. 

His mouth opens and he drags his tongue along your lips. 

“Just nothing in, not yet” you remind him. 

The apples of his cheeks pop as he smiles up at you, “I know darling.”

His tongue rolls around under your clit, pushing between your labia. He laps your little lips into his mouth, sucking them gently. 

You moan at the sensations, god you’ve missed his mouth. 

He nestles down at the bottom of your entrance and with a flickering tongue licks your wetness up, sucking your clit lightly into his mouth at the top.

 It’s fucking amazing. 

He licks again, his bottom lip dragging after his tongue, over and over. Until he settles on top of your clit. One hand slips from your leg and you feel two fingers press, not into your vagina, but in the crevices on either side of your lips. He licks your nub with the tip of his tongue and  presses rhythmically on the legs of your clitoris from the outside, milking your pussy. It feels incredible, you had no idea that was a thing, at least not for your body. 

Your juices start to flow freely, dribbling down. He greedily licks as much of it up as he can, sucking hard on your labia. Then his mouth closes wholly over your clit and the top bits of your lips. He sucks, the tip of his tongue flickering over the hard little button. 

Oh fuck it’s good. He is good. Better than good, with his fingers working their magic. Your hands fly to his hair, fingers tangled in his unruly locks. Breath flutters out his nostrils and onto your pubis. Your hips start pumping against his pretty face. You know he loves it when you just let go and let your body react. He starts groaning, his hips mimic yours, driving against the folds of the sheets under him. The fact that he is so turned on by eating your pussy is exhilarating. The vibrations of his moans send your pussy into overdrive. All of a sudden you are there; screaming, grunting, shaking under the magnificence that is Austin’s mouth. Pleasure floods your body. You writhe.  He shifts, letting go the suction and licks long, sensuous strokes along your quivering cunt. He flicks your clit at the top each time, making you shake in aftershocks, making you drip that much more. He closes his mouth wide over your pussy, sucking hard. Then, with a closed mouth he pushes up to his knees over you. His cock is rock hard and jutting out from his lean form. He is a fucking dream. He leans his head forward and dribbles a mixture of your juices and his spit onto his cock and into his hand. 

“God I miss doing that to you,” he moans.

You are panting, watching the sex god Austin stroke himself. His hooded eyes are brimming with desire and lust. 

“Touch yourself,” he commands, “I want to watch.” 

You immediately obey, your finger rubbing back and forth on your swollen clit.

“Yes, finger that clit, Princess,” it’s taking all he has not to slide into you, but he would never endanger your health like that. 

Your finger runs in circles around your clit.

“Pull your lips apart, I want to see it all,” his tone is intense, brooking no argument. 

You spread yourself for him and continue to circle your clit. Anything for Austin. He spits into his hand again, and continues to pump fiercely on his cock.

“Pull up, I want that little hood pulled back,” he is huffing, his face contorted and serious, “I want you to feel my hot cum as it hits your naked clit.” 

Oh. My. God. He has never said that, never done that. Your finger stops rubbing and pulls back your clitoral hood. The cooler air hits your exposed clit. You moan and clench. He watches as your pussy contracts, his breath hissing between his teeth. He glides hard on his cock. 

“Keep it up, don’t touch it.” His chest  expands in a deep, deep breath. His orgasmic groan begins as a rumble in his chest and blasts out his mouth in unrequited vowel sounds. Hot semen hits your vulnerable clit, it’s like fucking lightning. Your back arches and your hips shake, your orgasm is inches away. All you have to do is rub… but he told you not to. 

Suddenly and unexpectedly,  his mouth is sucking on you and hard. His tongue rubbing in his cum, back and forth over your clit. Your climax explodes over you like fireworks. You are so fucking lit.  Your spine and hips jerk, bouncing you on the bed.   He rides you down, lapping up his cum from you. Then he is over you, kissing you deeply with a mouthful of his own, sweet cum. It’s intoxicating, mind blowing, hallucinatory and nearly makes you orgasm again. You swallow every drop, curling your tongue into his mouth, desperate to get it all into you.

He pulls away shaking, having given you the same cum a second time. Clearly he found it just as electrifying. 

“Fuck that was unbearably hot, Princess,” he pants.

Your head shakes as you nod up and down, still completely aroused. You pull his fingers between your legs. 

“Rub Austin, please,” you beg. 

Austin can’t resist it when you beg like that. 

You spend the rest of the day either in bed, in the bath or in the kitchen. Austin made you cum in all of them. Orgasm Day, you’d come to call it, your own personal annual holiday.  Now, only 4 more weeks and the medical ‘ok’ until you get to feel his thick cock stretching your tight little pussy. Until then, well it’s Austin’s cum for breakfast, Austin’s cum for dinner and Austin’s cum for a midnight snack. 

[fantasyquests]

Rewatching Season 1: Some thoughts on episode 7

1. Friendship. This episode feels very true to the spirit of Tolkien's works because of the strong emphasis it places on friendship: Durin and Elrond, Nori and the Stranger, and an interesting new friendship that is forged between Galadriel and Theo. It's also important that in all of these cases it is a friendship between members of different races of Middle Earth. Durin and Nori find themselves in almost identical situations, going off-trail to help their friend who is an outsider, except that this time Nori's community is more sympathetic and supports her decision.

The exchange between Theo and Galadriel is wonderful, and reveals so much about both of them. I frankly don't understand people who complain that the pacing is too slow - as far as I'm concerned, the entire episode could have been just Theo and Galadriel walking and talking! It's also interesting to juxtapose the image of Theo holding the hilt of a real sword (the one that Galadriel gives him), to the previous episodes where he held the hilt key, and was tempted by the forces of darkness. A part of Theo's desire for empowerment is quite understandable for a boy his age, who wants to be recognized as a grown-up individual, and I'm glad that Galadriel gives him this recognition. Unlike Bronwyn, who asked him to stay in the tavern with children and old men during the orcs' attack, Galadriel calls him a soldier. Not because war is a good thing (she says explicitly that it is not), but because she recognizes his need to fight for himself.

I don't understand why Galadriel believes that she is to blame for losing the war against the orcs? Even if she hadn't convinced the Numenoreans to come to the Southlands, the outcome would have still been the same, Mordor would have been created the same way, and probably many more people would have died. At least the Numenoreans were there to save some lives, help evacuate villages and take care of the survivors.

2. Ashes, destiny and faith. In this episode we have two communities struggling to rise from the ashes and come to terms with what they have lost: the Southlanders after the eruption of the volcano, and Harfoots after the Mystics have burned their caravan. Interestingly, ashes are also mentioned in the speech that King Durin gives to his son. He says that fire is that aspect of the dwarven nature which tells them that everything is eventually consumed and "fades to ashes". The speech is meant to convince prince Durin that the Elves' destiny is already determined, that they either have to fade and die in Middle Earth or sail back to Valinor. He talks about believing in the design of the Valar, and it's quite similar to what Galadriel tells Theo: "We have little choice but to trust their designs, and surrender our own." "My home is gone", says Theo. "Where is the design in that?" This question is relatable for anyone in our world who has wondered the same thing - how do you keep faith in some benevolent higher power when terrible things happen to you and your community?

Galadriel replies, "I cannot yet see it", which I think is a better and more humble attitude than that of King Durin, who believes he understands clearly the will of gods. The motif of sight, foresight, or insight, is another one which permeates the entire episode, which is called "The Eye", which begins with Galadriel opening her eye after the volcano explosion, and in which Miriel goes blind. "The Eye" also makes us think about the Eye of Sauron: what if he is overseeing everything and it is his design, and not the design of the Valar?

Links to the previous analyses: ep 1 ep 2 ep 3 ep 4 ep 5 ep 6

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if Bella ran a very successful yet niche meta account on tumblr with hot takes about various forms of popular media called, TheCarnivorousBellaMeta?

Well.

This wouldn't happen.

The Caveat

First, Bella's canonically bad with computers. This isn't her fault, it's 2005 and personal computers for normal people is only just starting to be a thing. She notes having an ancient computer at Charlie's house that she has little idea how to use and prefers not to use. Otherwise, Bella prefers to read books in her free time as well as get chores like cooking and laundry out of the way.

This is not a girl who's running a blog (especially not tumblr as either tumblr doesn't exist yet or else is in its infancy in this time period, if anything she'd be on LiveJournal).

But let's say Bella is an avid blogger with a LiveJournal account.

What's she posting?

I'm sorry, anon, but her blog is not TheCarnivorousBellaMeta.

I imagine Bella's blog is tasteful quotes from Jane Austen's works, tasteful quotes from people who make her feel intellectual, reblogs of famous paintings she doesn't recognize, and maybe, maybe, dissertations on why Loki is a poor blorbo who never did a wrong thing in his life. (It's the wrong era, but I suspect Bella would be profoundly into Reylo, Loki's Resistance, and maaaaaaybeeee Johnlock).

Point being, her takes would be well worded, but given they're what a thousand other people are staying on the site and prompted by nothing she's probably not that popular.

I imagine there's also a few posts of "today I made enchiladas. They were delicious" as she feels the need to fill her tumblr.

Bella's hot takes are people's normal takes and I would expect her blog to reflect as much.

Alright, We'll Pretend

Let's pretend that Bella's the same person except for some weird reason she's running a blog that feels like it's being run by an alien (because to Bella it is).

The beginning of Twilight is essentially unaltered as we're assuming Bella is still Bella, she just runs a blog (not sure what her hot takes are, exactly, but we'll not go into that). She goes to Biology, Edward acts weird, Edward leaves, Edward comes back and acts weird, she nearly gets hit by a van, Edward acts weird.

The difference is in the part where Edward has decided he must know everything about her. Given that he's watching her unbeknownst to her, he sees Bella on her ancient computer updating her tumblr blog "TheCarnivorousBellaMeta" with such things as whether or not Itachi really does love his brother or not or whether Snape is Good or Bad (TM).

Edward is fascinated, as he is with all aspects of Bella, and methodically goes through not only every post she's ever written but every public interaction she's had with other anonymous internet denziens.

From this, he's able to more easily narrow in on Bella's likes, dislikes, how she views the world, and how she might view him.

Edward, who is trying to ignore Bella in public, gets a terrible, tempting, awful idea. He makes up an online persona: AlbrechtWithTheWilis (this is an obscure reference to the ballet Giselle, the tragic storyline being one he associates with Bella as, though she doesn't know it, she's being tempted to join the realm of the dead) and starts interacting by giving a very in depth comment making it clear he's read many of Bella's posts and deeply considered them.

Bella's surprised and deeply flattered. While she's a popular niche blog, she doesn't get these kinds of comments often and er she has a lot of posts on a lot of things. Only a lunatic would read through all of them. Bella responds that she's deeply flattered and moves on.

Edward doesn't get the kind of interaction he was looking for as Bella doesn't reach back out to him and instead answers questions like "What if Itachi was a walrus? Would he murder his entire family then?" (The answer, by the way, is yes).

Edward ends up having to ask questions himself, carefully prepared questions based on what he's seen that Bella will both enjoy and will provoke deep thoughts about herself and the world.

To his mounting anger and frustration, he waits weeks, and instead sees five iterations of "What if Itachi had pink hair?", "What if Itachi was actually in love with his brother for real though?", "What if Sasuke was secretly Itachi?", "What if Naruto was a hallucination of Sasuke's?" answered and none of his very insightful questions.

(This is in part because they're too insightful, they require a lot of thought whereas the others do not, because Bella's never heard of the source material Edward's mentioning or else has no hot takes, and because Edward is following his question with five paragraphs of what he thinks and how what he thinks is absolutely the right answer. Clearly expecting hot take Bella to agree with him.

Bella does not.

So, she doesn't answer and feels increasingly weird about this Albrecht guy. Seems kind of like a smug elitist, clearly trying to impress her, doesn't he?)

As it is, he's prompted to read through Naruto to see what the possible draw is, and he can't figure it out as it's weird foreign cartoons to him. Bella doesn't even have Naruto on her shelf! He searches but all he can find are classics, typically English, like Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, and Dickens.

There is, in fact, no mangas or animes on her shelf despite Bella referencing these materials near constantly.

She clearly knows it intimately, per her blog, but where is the source material she's even drawing from?

Worse, in real life, she gives no indication she has this blog. At first, he thought of this positively. Bella has a +1000 following on her blog but has not allowed it to get to her head or affect her daily life, except it makes him feel like all his efforts to get to know her don't even matter.

Edward starts giving her a shake down in real life, dropping little hints that he knows about her online persona. Bella tries to brush these aside as AH HA HA HA HA, I'M NOT A TOTAL NERD WITH HOT TAKES ON THINGS. "Naruto? What's that?" She gets increasingly disturbed that Edward is... trying to publicly humiliate her? Despite Edward being super hot and mysterious, Bella finds herself less and less interested in him.

You all know how this eventually goes: Bella gets eaten by Edward.

[talas-first-lady]

Legends of Tomorrow: the Musical Episode

Brought to you by my obsession with tumblr polls

Note about suspension of disbelief: this is way too many songs to fit into an hour and we are pretending that all cast members are great singers and dancers (but Amy and Tala are still better than the rest of them, obviously).

Last week on Legends of Tomorrow:

The Darhks kidnapped Ray, who made some annoyingly good points about how maybe turning Nora into a vessel for a demon was not the best idea ever. He also sang the entire Singin in the Rain soundtrack. Several times.

The last lost totem of Zambesi was located on Elvis' guitar: the Music Totem. Damien Darhk seized it and realized that this was his chance to fix things with Nora and get the Legends off his back and maybe torture them just a tiny bit but, like, gently.

Episode 3x1???

Ray Palmer wakes up and begins enthusiastically singing about his morning. Seems in character so we aren't really that surprised. Until he heads out of his room and we discover that all the rest of the Legends are also singing and dancing enthusiastically. They sing about how happy they are now that Captain Darhk and Nora are running the ship. Gideon manifests herself in human form so that she can also dance. Both Sara and Zari say "Look, it's hot Gideon!" at different points.

Rip and Ava portal in from the Time Bureau (Rip is also happy to see hot Gideon) with important time business that promptly gets forgotten about because musical numbers!

Things are super awkward between Sara and Ava since they've recently broken up like 3 times about how neither of them believes she deserves to be happy. Everybody's sick of it.

The other Legends invent some nonsense task for them to do to force them to be alone together and talk about things. They sing about things instead. It is an upbeat and ridiculously cute number that involves a lot of dancing. Everyone is happy.

Well, except Amaya, who has forgotten all about Mallus and the totems but is still thinking about what she's learned about her own future. She sings through the big choice she has to make in the library.

Over in the lab, Zari is chatting with Gideon about how they haven't been able to find any loopholes to let her save her family. Gideon leaves, and Zari picks up with the second verse of the song. Both Zari and Amaya duet the last part of the song from their separate parts of the ship.

Mick dozes off in his room. A lifesize Beebo comes to him in his dreams and they perform an elaborate ballet. It's beautiful. He wakes up, grunts, and goes to get another beer.

We check in with Damien and Nora. Damien is clearly very pleased with himself about how everything is going. Nora is feeling a general state of annoyance but isn't sure why.

Rip and Gideon cross paths on the bridge. Rip starts talking to her like no time has passed, and while Gideon is briefly tempted to go along with it, she can't help thinking about how much better things have been under Captain Darhk. He's never flown her into the sun or into an atomic bomb. He's never turned her into a training simulator. She sings, basically verbatim, "Get Out and Stay Out" from 9 to 5 because Amy Pemberton deserves nothing less.

Rip slinks off to the galley, heartbroken. The guys are all hanging out there already. They manage to get the truth out of him and instantly rally around him: Wally talks about his girlfriend going back to a different earth, Nate talks about Amaya leaving on his birthday, Ray brings out his laundry list of failed engagements. Mick is just there to get a beer. Wally reminds Rip of how healing karaoke was for him just a few days ago. They all join forces for a 90s boy band-inspired number about things getting better in the future and trying again. At one point, Rip pulls a saxophone out of the food fabricator and performs the solo from "Careless Whisper."

Ray leaves, feeling pumped about the idea of finding love again, and immediately crashes into Nora.

Zari is starting to get the nagging feeling that something is wrong. She keeps seeing weird flashes of the timeline where Damien and Nora are evil but she doesn't really know what to make of them.

Ray starts singing about how he's been feeling different about Nora ever since their adventure together. Nora is also kind of feeling something but not really ready to admit it. They sing a funny duet with Nora very annoyed with Ray at first but gradually wearing down a bit.

Zari goes to Nate since he was helpful the last time she got stuck in a weird TV trope, but he just thinks she's trying to prank him because what she's saying is completely ridiculous. She goes to Sara next. Ava is also in Sara's room and they have clearly been in there ever since their song finished earlier. Zari explains and Ava is first to believe her since something has also felt off to her. Between the two of them, they manage to pull Sara out of the delusion as well. They split up to talk to everyone else with varying degrees of success.

Damien notices that there are whispered conversations going on around the ship and intervenes, calling everyone for a team meeting. Sara calls him out in front of everyone. He admits the truth in a jazzy villain song. At the end, Nora confronts him and demands that he hand over the Music Totem and stop standing in her way. He reluctantly gives it back and with that, the spell is broken.

The only thing nobody can explain is how Mick ended up with a Beebo in his room.

[lottiecrabie]

you should totally write about Pfms!matty and reader trying cockwarming maybe with a little bit of hurt/comfort 🤲🏻🤲🏻 Because I know that he is great at comfort sex 100% aha 🤲🏻🤲🏻 🏃🏻‍♀️

not the specified comfort everyone lives in fear of lottiecrabie pfms angst😭 you guys have no faith in me😔😔☝️

ok but i see it like reader is still feeling somewhat self-conscious and guilty about sex, even if deep down she knows she shouldn’t be. it’s better than when they started this thing, but after particularly abstinence-preaching sermons, she always gets afraid again of her sins and of being forsaken.

somehow, the worst part is that she can’t stop herself. she recites purity scriptures while thoughts of matty fucking her spin inside her head. it’s more than a want now, it’s a need. she doesn’t know how to control herself.

she never tells matty any of this because she doesn’t want to hurt him. she knows now that he takes it personally when she starts spitting out all her learnings. really, how else can he take it when he’s the one tempting her? so she stays quiet and lets it fester inside of her.

matty, obviously, is not so easily fooled. he knows all her moods and can tell when something’s wrong. he broaches the subject while they’re studying in his room, but she just waves away his concerns, swearing she’s fine.

her nose is stuck inside her book, clearly avoiding making eye contact with him for fear it might trigger something. tears, or truth, or just plain desire. better to ignore— that’s what her mother always says.

matty sighs beside her, taking her by the hand, tugging her to sit on his lap. he holds both of her cheeks, watching her intensely, trying to decipher all the secrets she swallows down. she bites her lip, feeling a flicker of flame inside of her just from the proximity to him. she can’t stop. he’s under her skin.

‘what’s going on?’ he asks, racking through her hair. she shakes her head, hiding inside his neck, gently kissing it. ‘is it about… sex?’ she freezes in his arms. she shakes her head again, but it’s too late. matty knows. ‘so it is. do you still… feel guilty?’

he sounds so vulnerable. she wants to tear her skin off. trying to change his mind, to heal some wound she’s creating at this very moment, to show she doesn’t feel guilty even as the emotion grips her guts, she starts tugging at his jeans with a frenzy. her nimble fingers are expert at undressing him now; she’s unmaking him as he tries to halt her.

‘i’m fine,’ she swears, still refusing to look at him as she strokes him and she flips her skirt. ‘see? i’m completely fine.’

‘angel, wait…’

she ignores, lowering herself on his cock. they both gasp, moaning at the sudden feeling of fullness. she closes her eyes. every time they meet, there’s a momentary feeling of rightness. maybe that’s what she really craves, after all. being good.

she goes to roll her hips, but matty halts her. she frowns at him, finally locking eyes with him. ‘what’s really going on?’ his stare penetrates her, pinning her down. there’s no worming herself out of this.

‘i’m just—‘ she sighs. ‘god, it’s silly,’ she tries to laugh off, to move her hips, but he won’t let her.

it’s sinfully delicious torture, having him so deep inside of her yet completely still. her core clenches, desperate for friction, for relief, but something in her enjoys the suspended moment of time. she’s complete. with him, she’s complete.

when he’s clearly not budging, although he definitely seems tempted to when he a low groan slips from his lips as she throbs around him, she finally admits, ‘i don’t want to feel this way. i know rationally that it’s not wrong to have sex, or whatever. i just—‘ she huffs. ‘it’s hard to remember sometimes.’

matty’s eyes warm. ‘okay,’ he says, gentle, rubbing her hip. ‘then let’s remember.’

and so she sits on his cock, perfectly still except for the minute shifts when her knees grow sore in their position, and recites all the scriptures she’s been forcefully tattooed on her brain. and then matty has her counter them, repeat all the arguments he’s given her over the weeks.

every time she gets one right, he gives her a little reward. a kiss on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lip. a pinch of a nipple, a circle on her clit, even a small, indulgent roll of her hips. soon, her cheeks are flushed as she pants out refutes to purity. she practically drips on him, end of her sentences finishing in moans as she clenches around him. her limbs are burning with unquenchable need.

and when she’s so desperate for it she thinks she might go mad from it, matty whispers in her neck, ‘do you feel guilty?’

she practically cries, ‘no, no. fuck no.’

he smiles, pleased. rolls her on the bed, laying on top of her. fucks into her. her head rolls, gripping his shoulders, biting her tongue to stop herself from screaming his name. finally.

‘you’re good,’ he whispers in her ear, finding her clit. ‘you’re so fucking good. aren’t you?’ she nods, moaning. she’d agree to anything he said. ‘say it.’

she gasps, opening her eyes. ‘i’m good.’

he grins some more, victorious and proud. ‘that’s it. my sweet angel.’ he kisses her. ‘my good little girl.’

she smiles, languid and pleased as her climax washes over her. i’m good. i’m good.

[merakiui]

Oh god, The Leech twins railing darling in church and getting caught by Rollo is not something I thought I'd be thinking this morning-- *sweats*

Okay but now that you're giving me these Rollo thoughts (TW: religious guilt-tripping, verbal abuse, torture (starvation, whipping, burning, etc.)) yea okay now imagine that Rollo finally gets to isolate darling from the world, and now he's dead-set on "correcting their ways". He'd start with whatever is the equivalent of Bible lessons in Twisted Wonderland, having them recite those Bible passages then guilt-tripping them for their whorish (that only goes on in his head, while in reality they never did (except if u count the times they involuntarily became the twin's plaything)) behaviors. I just know this man would be a pro in guilt-tripping, shaming darling in the most eloquent way as possible until darling themselves actually believes they're the one in the wrong. And even when they did do good, his praises only go with something along the lines of "this is still the baseline of basic decency, you'd do well not to forget it". Disobedience could lead to punishments such as not giving darling their meals and leaving them without food or water for days (and no, even if he did give them food in the first place, they'd still sit lower than him on the table or on the floor, take your pick). He wouldn't hesitate to even use drastic measures like whipping them or even as drastic as burning them with candle wax (I'm also thinking of him branding them with the devil's insignia just to accentuate his words of darling being the devil's spawn or somethin--).

Anyway yea, I rewatched the Hunchback of Notredame recently and have been playing Hellfire on loop so seeing that ask really opens the gate that floods my thoughts sdjksdkdslsdkl-- I still am curious about the leech twin railing darling in church tho, cause I once saw an art of Religion AU with Devil Floyd and Priest Jade just railing the fuck out Nun Darling lol

-heyyy 11

Omg yes!!! OTL I once saw a fanart of priest Azul with angel Floyd and demon Jade and...yes. <3 there was also this one where the twins were incubi. But priest Jade?!??!! OOOOOHHH!!! he would be the most corrupt priest...

The idea of a nun!darling working alongside priest!Rollo, only to be slowly, methodically corrupted by two demon twins is very good. And it's even better if they mark you and Rollo finds out. >:) Poor nun!darling tries so hard to stay pure and unaffected by temptation, praying each and every night and day, visiting Rollo for blessings, going to the confessional, but nothing ever seems to work. You've even tried warding them off with holy water and other blessed objects. Yet, despite everything, they still persist.

Aaa your thoughts are so good! Rollo would be so cruel and it's all to uphold his beliefs and the idea that he's pure, not at all tempted by you, and that you're the filthy one. I also like to imagine some of his punishments are quite medieval in nature. Rollo makes you wear a scold's bridle if he suspects you've been lying to him about all of the salacious deeds you most certainly did behind his back when he was kind enough to allow you a modicum of freedom. He tells you you ought to feel lucky that they no longer burn witches at the stake, for if the time period was different you'd find yourself engulfed in flames for such sinful witchcraft. He seems so delusional when he clings to his beliefs in this manner, and you suspect he genuinely believes that this is the right course of action.

I like to imagine that if you made a pact/contract with a demon of any type he would want to carve the contract stamp from your skin, even if such a thing can't be removed by mortal hands. He definitely forces isolation upon you as a punishment. You're put in a small, cold, cramped room with hardly any light, the window is blocked with thick iron bars, and you aren't permitted freedom until he thinks you've learned your lesson. Sitting there in the dark, alone with your thoughts, is bound to fray your sanity if the punishment is given to you enough times. And you might even find yourself accepting what little 'love' Rollo has for you at the end of it, if only to stop this torturous abuse and placate him, hoping to prove to him that you're pure and cleansed.

[emma-m-black]

The Daughter - Chapter One

Tim Gutterson x OC (FanFiction) - MATURE 18+

Tim Gutterson comes to the unconventional aid of one Elenora Crowder, ward of Art Mullen and daughter of Raylan Givens.

This will be a multi chapter story and will get spicy as it goes. This is a rough draft and only slightly edited for grammar and spelling. Just needed to finally get it out because Tim Gutterson is one of my favorite characters, and there is not nearly enough fanfic for him.

Author Master List

Chapter One, Chapter Two

Chapter One:

Elenora could feel the bottoms of her boots stick to the floor as she walked. The years of spilt drinks and shotty cleaning leaving a film across the surface that wanted anything that touched it to become a permanent fixture. Her palms sweated as she stepped towards the bar, and she wiped them against her jean clad thighs, hoping to quell her nerves and the moisture. She should not be this nervous. She already had the plan formed in her head as to what she was going to say. “Hey, remember me, I’m that random girl staying with your boss, but we never really talked cause I think you're cute, and I didn’t want to embarrass myself. So see, my friends are stupid and as part of a scavenger hunt, I need to get a hot guy’s phone number. So here I am! Saying you are hot, like do you on the bar counter right this second. Think about you fucking me in the elevator every time I’m at the courthouse.” “God, I can’t say that,” Elenora muttered to herself. Shoving her hands into the back pockets of her dark blue skinny jeans, she took a deep breath. Thankfully, she had thrown a flannel over her tank top so maybe he would not notice the sweat that was forming under her arms.

When she approached the bar, she leaned against the wood with an elbow and turned herself to look at the man she was about to pester. “Evening Marshal.” Elenora greeted before giving a side eye to her friends. The group of girls were sitting in their booth at the opposite end of the building, chin in hand and elbows on the table, staring at her with wide eyes and cat like smiles.

The man swiveled himself around on his chair, his hands still rested on the bar top wrapped around his beer bottle as if it was too much of an inconvenience to lift them. The motioned drew Elenora’s eyes back to him. Elenora watched as his eyes connected with hers before slowly running down the length of her body and back up again. He squinted and his finger pulled at the label on the beer bottle subconsciously.

Elenora raised an eyebrow as he stared at her. “You look familiar, and you know I’m a Marshal.” His face relaxed, and a smile tugged at his lips. “Wait. You’re that uni girl stayin’ with Art, aren’t you?” He swiveled around fully now, his feet resting on the step of the stool and his knees spread wide. His left hand was free and now resting on his thigh.

“Yup, except right now, I need you to pretend like you don’t know me, and I am just some stranger hitting on you at the bar.” Said Elenora pushing off from the bar top and took a small step closer to the man. “You aren’t supposed to know this, but I require your phone number for a stupid scavenger hunt, and I really want to win.”

“This has got to be the strangest pick up line I have ever heard.” His smile betrayed the tone in his voice, telling Elenora that he was actually enjoying this. “Tim, by the way.”

“Elenora.”

Tim’s smile got even larger. “Can’t say an eighty-year-old has ever asked for my number.”

Taking a larger step forward than she had before, Elenora put herself between Tim’s legs. A surge of confidence overtaking her brought on my the smile on Tim’s lip and the mischievous glint that was now in his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sure this eighty-year-old could give you all sorts of new experiences.” Elenora reached out and ran her hands up Tim’s shoulders before pulling lightly at the collar of his polo to straighten it before dropping her hands back down to her sides.

“Ma’am, don’t tempt me with a good time. So this scavenger hunt?” Asked Tim. “You just need my number, or do you require my assistance with anything else? Say that picture of you skinny dip’n in the founder’s fountain?”

Elenora’s eyes went large. How could he know? Out of instinct, she went to take a step back, but Tim quickly threw his arms out, looping his thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans and splaying his hands on her sides of her ass. “Woah girl.” Tim whispered. “If you’ve done it I didn’t see, you just aren’t the first to come up to me tonight trying to fill that card of yours.”

Relaxing, Elenora rested her palms on Tim’s forearms. “So I’m too late to the game, then is what you are telling me?”

“Hardly. I don’t give my number out to just anyone.” Said Tim as his eyes once again locked onto hers. “However, being in the charge of Art and all, I feel as though it is my duty to help you with your task.”

“That would be mighty fine of you.” Elenora responded. Her hands had worked their way up his arms till her wrists rested on his shoulders. With a turn of her head, Elenora looked back towards her friends who were all watching her with interest, waiting to see what happened next. “Pretty sure you just made me the talk of the night, Marshal.”

“Got your phone?” Tim asked as he slid his hands out from her jeans and brought them to rest on her hips.

Elenora reached up into the pocket of her flannel and pulled out her blackberry. She spun the device in her fingers and held it out to Tim, who then plucked it from her grasp. With both hands, he punched in his name and phone number before holding it back out to Elenora, but when she went to reach for it, he pulled it back with a flick of his wrist. “Now, I’m trusting you with this. With great power comes great responsibility.”

“Got it. No late night booty calls, rebound requests, or drunken confessions of love.”

“Exactly. Only recommendations for lunch, who won Sundays game and is there a cover band playin’ at Rusty’s?” Said Tim as he held the phone back out to her.

Taking it in her hand, Elenora looked at the device and then at Tim. “Thanks, Tim.”

“Don’t be afraid to ask about those cover bands.” Elenora smiled and took a step back from Tim before turning back towards her friends. “And Ma’am, I do apologize.”

The next thing Elenora felt was the slap of a hand on her ass, and she was pretty sure the shock caused her feet to leave the floor. She whipped her head around to look at Tim, who was just retracting his hand and had a smile on his face.

Elenora made her way back to her friends and sat down before handing her phone to one girl, who promptly started clicking away on her phone. Elenora picked up the glass of gin and soda she had left at the table before going to talk to Tim and eyed said man out of the corner of her eye. He had just reached for his beer when his detoured and reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out a cell phone, reading the message that came through he turned to look at the table and gave a wave, just as Elenora knew he had been instructed. Now came the embarrassing part.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” The girl with Elenora’s phone asked.

“Do it. I want that apartment.” Elenora downed her drink in one swallow and tipped her head down so that her fell over her face to hide the blush that she was sure was currently forming on her cheeks.

“Nora, he’s coming over!”

Elenora’s head shot up, and she turned to see Tim walking towards her. A stern look on his face and his hand resting on his firearm that was holstered at his side. His badge was clearly visible from where it was hooked into his jeans on his right hip.

“Shit, he’s a cop!” one girl said in a hushed tone just as Tim approached the table.

“Oh, you’re screwed, girl.” Came the voice of another girl from across the table.

His phone was still in his other hand and he presented it to Elenora once he was at the table’s edge. “Ma’am, is this you?”

Looking at the phone screen, Elenora saw a picture of herself, naked as the day she was born, standing in Lexington’s founders fountain. “Umm, yes.”

“Do you know that indecent exposure is illegal, especially on State owned property, and carries a criminal sentence?”

“No, but that would make sense.” Elenora’s cheeks felt like they were on fire, and she could feel herself breaking out in a sweat.

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to come with me,” Said Tim as he pocketed his phone and waved Elenora out of the booth, his hand resting on his pistol the entire time.

“Officer, please, you can’t do this. It was just a stupid thing for her to get this apartment. I mean, it’s a really nice apartment, but she can’t go to jail!”

“Ladies, let me introduce myself. I am Deputy United States Marshall Tim Gutterson, and I am going to take you friend here into custody. Now come Ma’am if you will come with me, we are going to have a little talk about our good State’s laws and if I feel as though you will not be a repeat offender perhaps there will not be any paperwork to file.”

“Yes, Marshall.” Said Elenora as she slid from the booth and grabbed her small leather purse from its resting place on her seat.

Tim placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed her to turn around. “Hands behind your back, please.”

Elenora felt the cool metal rub and lock against her wrists. ‘where had he been hiding handcuffs‘ she wondered?

“Ladies, enjoy the rest of your evening.” With that, Elenora felt Tim touch her, gently pushing at her lower back as he directed her towards the door. Once they were almost there, she felt Tim press himself against her side and his head come into view next to hers. “There now you can cross off being arrested, too.”

“You fucker!” Elenora ground out in a hushed tone. “How did you know?”

“Now Ma’am. You are speaking to a Deputy U.S. Marshal, so let’s watch the language, and I already told you, you weren’t the first girl to come up to me tonight.” Tim said this with a humor to his voice and Elenora could only roll her eyes as the two stepped out onto the sidewalk and into the night air.

Once Elenora knew she would not be seen by her friends, she stepped out of Tim’s grasp and turn on him. “I didn’t pay my tab, Tim. I’m never gonna be allowed back in there now.”

“Don’t worry, I took care of it before I came over. Now come on, SUVs just over there.” Said Tim as he removed his hand from where it rested on his firearm and pointed towards an SUV parked about a half block away.

“Wait, you are actually arresting me?” Elenora’s eyes went wide and while she was sure her cheeks were still flushed, she imagined the rest of her was following.

“Hell no, I don’t wanna do that paperwork. It’s a school night; but if your friends walk out right now, this is gonna look mighty suspicious.”

“Good point. Lead the way, Marshal.” Tim moved and placed his hand on her shoulder and the two walked the short distance to his SUV. Opening the door, Tim helped Elenora into the SUV and once he was tucked in behind the wheel himself, he pulled out the keys to the cuffs.

He held them up and Elenora turned herself around to give him access, but when she did not feel Tim unlocking them, she craned her neck slightly to look at him. “Are you gonna uncuff me, Marshal, or is this something I need to worry about? Being in a vehicle with a stranger?”

When Tim did not answer, Elenora bounced her way around in the seat to look straight on at him. Her mind playing through every horrible scenario her daddy had ever told her. Till finally a smile rose from his lips. “I just need to know. You really doing all this for an apartment? Havin’ a criminal record worth that?”

As he talked, Elenora had pulled a bobby pin from her back pocket and had already had it wedged in the teeth of her left cuff. “You haven’t seen the apartment. Studio, with these giant picture windows and a rooftop patio...” Elenora let out a grunt as she squeezed the cuff on her left hand closed even more than it already was, until she felt the release of the mechanism which she had jammed. “There were twenty of us that applied to her to take over her lease, so she came up with this stupid game.” With her left hand now free of the cuff, she brought her hands around to her front and she watched as Tim’s eyes narrowed at the now empty cuff dangling from her right wrist.

“How’d you do that?” Tim asked, pointing at the cuff with the key he still held in his hand.

“A girl’s gotta’ have some secrets.”

Tim gave a nod of his head and reached forward to unlock the remaining cuff. “Understandable. I mean, I have seen you naked already, and we haven’t even been on a proper date.”

A laugh escaped Elenora’s lips. “You tellin’ me, Marshal, that this is your idea of an improper date, then?”

“I don’t normally get the phone numbers of my perps before arrestin’ them, although maybe that’s how your daddy does it. I’m guessin’ he was also a Marshal, and that’s why you’re stayin’ with Art?”

“Still is. Daddy doesn’t make many friends. Felt it was safest for me to head out this way. Uncle Art was nice enough to offer me a room and protection. His ex-wife lives out here too. We get along well enough, but not enough for me to be spendin’ any time in that home.”

“That meaning she aint your momma?”

“No, that woman died when I was eight, and the state contradicted the bullshit I’d been told of my father. And guess what? He was, in fact, alive and well. Didn’t even know I existed.”

Tim’s face scrunched up and his shoulders gave a shrug. “Ouch, well, at least he wasn’t an ass.”

“See, that’s how I know you’ve never met him. I love him, but he’s the biggest ass I know.”

Elenora noticed Tim’s eyes narrow, and he leaned slightly to the side as he watched something from behind her. “Time to go, unless getting caught in this ruse won’t lose you this amazing apartment?”

“Nope, let’s go Marshal,” Said Elenora as she quickly situated herself in the seat and threw on her seat belt.

Tim quickly backed up the SUV and pulled out of the stall, heading down the road with no destination in sight. “Technically, it’s Deputy, but you know I’m not actually arresting you. There is no need for the formality.”

“Maybe I like it. Maybe it’s the gin talkin’, but callin’ you, Marshal, means I’m less likely to be thinking any impure thoughts about you and this improper date.”

Tim’s wrist rested on the top of the steering wheel and his other laid on his thigh, his thumb drumming against his leg. Elenora figured it was a nervous tick or an unconscious way to keep his hands busy. Lots of Marshals had military backgrounds and the way he called her ma’am made her believe he might be one of them.

He remained silent for several seconds until the hand on his leg jumped up and gripped the wheel. Turning it with a sharp pull, Tim brought the vehicle into the parking lot of a dimly lit park and brought it to a stop in one of the parking stalls. He pushed up on the shifter, putting the SUV into park before turning to look at her with a starved look. Like she was water in the desert and he had been stranded for weeks.

“Ma’am, I’m not one to touch someone without their consent unless I’m working, so I need you to tell me you are okay with me kissing you right now. If not, I’ll drive you to wherever you wanna go and we can go abo...” Tim did not get to finish the thought. Elenora had unbuckled herself so fast she wasn’t even sure she had done it till she was already sitting astride Tim, her face an inch from his.

“I’m gonna keep callin’ you Marshal, if you keep callin’ me, ma’am.”

“Understood.” Replied Tim, who then brought his hands up to hover just above her hips.

A giggle left Elenora, and she put her hands to Tim’s chest. “While I, and the women of the world, appreciate your views on consent, I’m sitting on your lap, Tim. You have my permission to touch me.”

With that, his hands clasped down on her hips, and his lips were on hers. His hands pulled at her tucked in tank top till he could get his hands on the skin of her back, where he let them rest as he continued to kiss her. Elenora was seeing stars. The kiss was intense. It felt as though she was the only thing he had ever wanted to kiss. Her body shivered as his thumbs rubbed at the skin on her side, just ghosting towards her stomach. Her hands, on the other hand, had moved up his chest, one now rested on the side of his neck while the other sprawled into his hair.

Elenora could taste the whiskey on his lips, and she felt Tim pull on her, sliding her further into his lap, and to where she could feel him hardening underneath her.

They pulled apart from each other slightly when finally they were so out of breath they could not continue. Elenora dipped her head and bring her lips to his neck where she peppered kisses up towards his ear, and in response she felt a hand slide up her back, coming to rest once his fingers had poised themselves at the clasp of her bra. When her teeth reached his earlobe and she bit down, Tim let out a long groan. “Not to sound too desperate here, but it’s been a while,” Tim began in a whisper. “So if you are gonna keep kissing me there, this might be over real fa... shit.”

“What?” Asked Elenora as she pulled back and looked down at Tim.

“Never thought I wish to be a teenager again, storing condoms in my glove-box.”

“I have an IUD, so we are safe, as long as you are clean...”

“Have to be having sex to get anything...”

“Well then, Marshal, looks like we’re all set.” Elenora rocked her hips into Tim’s and then brought her lips back down to his.

A knock sounded on the glass, and both Elenora and Tim jumped apart in unison. Both turned to see a man dressed in a black police jacket and the butt of a flashlight resting on the window. Extracting his hands, Tim rolled down the window and flinched as the officer spun his flashlight to shine into the SUV. “Okay love birds, this isn’t... Deputy Gutterson, is that you?”

Elenora squinted at the light till finally she had to turn her eyes away and cast them down at Tim’s chest. “Oh hey, Thompson. Yeah, we were just...”

“Not in the park, man.” Said the officer with a laugh.

“We were just leaving.” Replied Tim.

Elenora noticed the light from the flashlight disappear with a click. “You to have a good night and be safe now.”

A few moments later, Elenora felt fingers under her jaw and, after a slight pressure, bring her head back up to face the man in front of her. “Well, if that was a mood breaker, I don’t know what is.” Tim let a laugh out and Elenora followed. The giggles left her lips until Tim’s lips captured hers once more, his hands pushing into her hair as he increased the intensity. She let the kiss go for a few seconds before pulling away.

“Well Marshal, is this the point in the night you drive me home or do we go back to your place? Because I would really rather not be arrested for a second time tonight.”

“I didn’t really arrest you.” Whispered Tim as he pulled a hand from her hair and used his thumb to rub lightly at her the spot on her chin right below her ear.

Smirking, Elenora squirmed in Tim’s lap, and the man beneath her let out a groan. “You did put me in handcuffs.” Elenora pecked at Tim’s lips. Tim let out another groan. However, this one caused Elenora to pull away and narrow her eyes at him. “What?”

“See, I know I should take you home, the home of which my boss lives at, but all I can think about right now is how good you looked in that photo naked.”

“Well then, the next choice seems like it’s up to you.”

Chapter Two

[underagoldenmoon]

COULD THE UNDER A GOLDEN MOON PROTAGONISTS SURVIVE CASTLE DRACULA? 

(inspired by Tumblr user @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula)

HAZEL: 

So first things first, we need to de-ghostify Hazel, because ghosts Do Not Have Blood. And blood is. Kind of Dracula's thing. Plus she can't die as a ghost except under certain circumstances :)

So yeah that's Happening. 

So Hazel would probably accept the crucifix, but that doesn't matter so much; she doesn't carry a mirror so she wouldn't die shaving. 

She knows that ghosts exist (she is one. Well, was for the purposes of this. No I'm not explaining how she comes back to life, this isn't canon.) I'm not sure that she'd know what vampires are, but from the start she's seeing clues that Dracula is Not A Normal Human Being. 

She had to become a people-pleaser while she was alive to keep herself safe. So she's mainly fine on the Not Annoying A Rich Jerk front. 

I'm assuming that the characters aren't aware of who Dracula is beforehand, and similar to Jonathan Harker they initially assume he's just a normal guy. So she has no reason to bring a weapon. She doesn't own one anyway (Starry is the only one who does. Unless you include Golden's whittling knife). 

The second she's told not to explore, she gets suspicious. She assumes that Dracula has a Dark Secret. At this point she starts trying to imply about how she used to be a ghost because she doesn't realise it's an Evil Dark Secret she thinks it's a Cool Dark Secret (not a Sexy Dark Secret because she is a lesbian). But as time goes on, she realises that Dracula is not to be trusted. 

She's had to learn to be stealthy; there are cats who hunt ghosts. So she won't necessarily get caught. 

She's choosing the castle over the wolves if it comes to that. All of them are, really. They're teenagers they're too young to die /hj

If she happens to be Romantically Staring Out of the Window™ while Dracula is climbing, she does get curious. "Curiosity killed the cat" type situation - but actually, this convinces her that Dracula really is dangerous. 

She might try to mislead him with a few lies about England once she realises this; she's been trustworthy up to this point, since she knows her way around well, but Dracula might be able to tell. In which case she's dead. 

But if she doesn't try to be too clever and doesn't get too obvious in her attempts to drop hints that she's a ghost, Hazel would survive Castle Dracula. 

GOLDEN: 

Golden, too, would take the crucifix. Ze reads a lot of fantasy stories. Never ignore the strange old woman's warnings. 

Let's be honest – ze is not going to put up with being forced to stay up all night. Ze needs a regular sleep schedule, and ze would rather die than have hir circadian rhythm messed around with. 

Also, hir instincts are pretty good – ze's going to work out that there is something going on. 

Unfortunately, this does not help hir. 

Ze is not going to put up with any jerk for long, let alone a rich one. 

And ze's wanted to try lock-picking for a while… and all these locked doors are so tempting…

You'd think that the fact that ze reads a lot would save hir. But no. Ze's clever, but ze has no common sense. Negative amounts, really. If ze's lucky and works out Dracula's a vampire, even that won't save hir. 

Because ze died picking that lock to try to get into the room. 

Sorry. 

Golden would not survive Castle Dracula. 

MOON: 

Honestly, I think Moon is the protagonist who would last the longest if they were all to die at any point. Golden dies after being caught lock-picking, Hazel (if she dies) is too clever for her own good, and Starry… well, you'll see. 

Moon would accept the crucifix out of awkwardness if nothing else. Because how do you turn it down without making it a thing? That doesn't really matter – he's not going to shave anyway, he's a cat. But still. 

He trusts Dracula at first – why wouldn't he? 

He works out, as time goes on, that there's something dodgy about Dracula, and since he's been raised to distrust ghosts and gods, he's going to Panic. Like when Jonathan was just. Running around the castle. He would do exactly that. 

He would avoid doing anything to anger Dracula once he realised there was something weird – he's used to the idea of supernatural creatures that can destroy you if you look at them the wrong way, though he hasn't met one. Yet :)

He would probably try to help Dracula – the idea of tricking him would occur, but he'd decide against it. He knows some supernatural creatures can tell if you're lying. He's not going to risk it. 

He spends a lot of time staring out of the windows, so he sees Dracula climbing the walls. At this point he is certain that there's something going on. 

But don't worry – he has a plan. 

A terrible one. 

He tries to climb out of the Castle. And he nearly makes it. 

He's bested Dracula, he's escaping, he's –

Fallen off a cliff to his death. Sorry. 

Moon could not survive.

STARRY: 

I think that Starry was the hardest to get an idea on. She's the newest protagonist, so she's not been floating around in my brain for… two to three years, I think? I think I started version one in 2021. Certainly during Covid lockdown.

Good grief. 

Anyway, Starry takes the crucifix because she knows by now that if there are rumours about strange things, it's better to be safe than sorry. She decides pretty early on that he's a ghost, which makes her distrust him. She doesn't like ghosts. 

She does everything perfectly most of the time she's there. She's learned to act; she's had to. 

She does nearly break when Dracula takes her stuff. After all, how will she live without her knife? 

But she manages to control herself. 

She's doing well; Dracula doesn't suspect. She makes sure to follow his rules whenever there's the slightest shadow of a chance that she could be discovered. But she quietly rebels, too. 

Then she decides she's had enough and tries to fistfight him. 

Life hack: do not fistfight a vampire. It will not end well. 

Starry would not survive.

And I can't work out how to draw this so. Uh. Sorry about that.

[gucciwins]

can we get Harry’s reaction to bel not taking it easy after the concussion and get angry at her and forcing her to not do anything in house 🫣 and bel being upset because she’s bored and Harry reads to her

enjoy a 1.3k blurb of harry caring for bel. a continuation to bel gets hurt while filming 🫶

//

It had been one week, and Bel was ready to return to work. Her director assured her they were moving along fine and did not want her to rush her recovery. Except for Bel, she was itching to get back to work. It already meant she would be finished shooting this movie much later than anticipated.

Harry had been an angel since the moment he arrived. Bel had assured him countless times he was fine. 

“Bel, why are all the lights off?” 

“I’m resting, amor.” 

Harry sighs, “I’ll be cooking dinner.”

“Gracias.” 

He gets to the kitchen and sees her script pages sitting on the table, sighing. She couldn’t stay still. She just had to keep working. No wonder she had a headache. He was tempted to go into her room and tell her how upset he was, so instead, he decided to let it go and cook her soup just as he promised. 

It’s a few hours later, and Harry goes into her bedroom to call her for dinner when he finds her sitting up rubbing her eyes, he smiles at her bedhead, and just as he was about to call for her, she speaks up, but it’s clear she’s not talking to him.

“I’m doing great, Vi. Promise.” She hums in response. “Course I’m all better. I even managed to move my doctor’s appointment by two days.” She laughs. “No. I’m good. A break was nice.” 

Harry leaves the room, having heard enough. The anger he felt before comes back tenfold, and instead of calling for her, he sits down to eat dinner. 

“H? Didn’t hear you call me.” 

He doesn’t answer. She sits next to him, picking up the spoon. He sat next to her bowl. Harry can’t help but pause as he watches her take her first bite. “Mmmm, está muy rico.” She praises, taking another mouthful. 

“I was talking to Naomi, and she says she’s thinking of coming for a visit soon. In a month or so, isn’t that great?”

Harry doesn’t bother giving her a reply. He hears her put her spoon down, hitting the side of the bowl.

“H? What’s wrong?” She asks him, her voice full of concern. “Did Jeff call? Does he need you back?” 

“Stop it, Bel. Eat your dinner.” 

This only causes her to worry more. “Come on, H. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, but I hate to see you so sad.”

And he’s not sure why but her words get to him, and he just explodes. He looks at her, tears close to spilling out of his eyes. “You’re not even trying to take care of yourself. All you care about is work!” He shouts. He doesn’t realize Bel flinched, moving back. He keeps going. “I am here trying to take care of you, and all you want to do is get back to filming. Why can’t you realize your health is more important than a stupid film. One that needs you alive and well in order to continue.” Harry didn’t mean to tell her everything, especially not in an angry tone. 

He feels his heartbreak and anger vanish as he sees Bel look down, trying to discreetly hide her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I–'m sorry.” 

It’s quiet for a few seconds, and as he goes to pull her into his chest to give her a cuddle, she gets up, saying something about needing to use the restroom leaving behind a full plate, and disappointed Harry. 

He really fucked up in a matter of seconds. 

Harry sits there and tries to see it from her perspective. She’s been home for a week doing absolutely nothing, just as her doctor requested. He stopped her from doing laundry, taking over the chore because she was not supposed to carry anything heavy. He stopped her from using electronics as the light would hurt her eyes. He told her she couldn’t read anything from scripts to books as all the staring and reading would strain her head. He didn’t even let her help in the kitchen, not for a single thing. He’s made her feel useless, yet why did he get so angry at her? 

Because he was scared. When Harry received the call, he felt his heart stop, unable to process anything. He wasn’t sure who had booked his flight or how long it was. His world didn’t start spinning again until he had Bel right in front of him, and he could see for himself that she was alright. 

He had to apologize. 

“Bel?” Harry calls for her, knocking on the bathroom door. 

No answer. 

He twists the doorknob and goes in, only to find it empty. She must be in bed then. He heads to her room that she was happily sharing with him, giving him two drawer spaces. In the middle of the queen-sized bed, her eyes closed, the covers covering all the way up to her chin. Harry knew she wasn’t sleeping. Her breathing was too slow. He knew she was focusing on her breathing. 

“Baby? Is it okay if I come in?” There’s no response, but he takes that as a good sign. 

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, close but far enough to give her space. 

“Lovie, I want to apologize.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sorry.” 

Harry frowns, hating that he made her upset. “Can you look at me, please?”

She opens her eyes slowly, moving to sit up against the headboard. He offers her a timid smile, encouraging her to do the same.

“Hi baby, I’m sorry. I had no right to yell at you like that. I’m just worried, okay, and I took out my own frustrations on you. None of this was your fault.

She nods. “Do you really think my movies are stupid?” 

Harry shakes his head, “No. You’re the best actor in the world. I love that you love working on different films, but you can’t rush an injury.” 

Bel glances away from him, preferring to stare at her chipped nails, something the costume design would need to fix once she got back to work. “I’m sorry I’ve been so hard to deal with. I’m used to taking care of myself. It feels like I’ve always had to rely on myself. I’m not used to being looked after so well.” 

Harry takes her confession to heart because he knows that she was young when she lost her family and that she’s come to rely on herself. She’s fiercely independent, and he loves that about her, but she’s not alone anymore. 

“I know, love, and I respect that I do. But I love you, and I want to take care of you. It’s not something I feel I have to do. I want to do it. I want to be here for you.” 

“I appreciate it, H. I do.” 

Harry feels the tension leave the room. He opens his arms, and she’s quick to crawl to him, sitting on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“I love you, H.” 

“And I love you, Bel.” He squeezes her tight. “So much.” 

She giggles as she feels him placed on her bare shoulder. 

“I was just so bored, H. You didn’t let me do anything,” she confesses. 

“Hey, now!” 

“It’s true!” 

He sighs because she’s right. She always is. “How about this?” She pulls back to look at him, eagerly waiting to hear his idea. “You’re going to get under the covers, and I’m going to grab the book from your bag and read to you, hmm. How does that sound?” 

She smacks a kiss on his lap, catching him by surprise as she scrambles to get off his lap and under the covers. “Perfect, amor.”

Harry loves her. He loves her and doesn’t know what he’d do without her. He leaves her with a final kiss and heads to the living room to find the strawberry tote bag she carries everywhere.

“Tea, please, baby!” She calls out from her room. 

And Harry knows he’d give her the world if she asked.