#gem of doll limited

[bjds--fantasy]

Gem of Doll Lotte and Fanny. 20 cm. Limited

[explorevenus]

dirty laundry ♡ re6!leon kennedy x puppy hybrid!reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5.1k

tags/warnings: re6!leon, stubborn/reluctant puppy reader who pretends she hates him, brief chris redfield appearance, forced proximity (kinda), leon pining for u (he wants u to call him daddy btw), hybrid heat cycle shenanigans, thigh riding, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), no use of y/n

description: leon's had a tough time figuring out his new puppy hybrid roommate... outside of the fact that she's sweet on him, and just won't admit it. lucky for leon, he comes home from a mission to find her airing her dirty laundry.

a/n: this piece was commissioned by my beloved and adored @pupthepokemonenthusiast who is one of MY FAVORITE PEOPLE ON EARTH EVER ?!!!! and i luv yapping w them and that makes collaborating w them such a dream every time....

divider by @cafekitsune !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Loose gravel crunched beneath Leon's boots, uneven pavement glittering with moisture in the streetlights. It was somewhere between raining and snowing, the wind splattering his rosy cheeks with little drops of condensation, every breath puffing out in a visible cloud, head tilted down at just the right angle to protect the lower half of his bruised face from the cold while still being able to see where he was going.

He didn't have a specific destination in mind, and truth be told, he couldn't really read most of the signage around here anyway-- it was all in Mandarin, and his Mandarin was even less reliable than his Spanish, to put it gently. But he could read what he needed to, at least, enough to find the basics like food, bathrooms, lodging, or hospitals, and more importantly, he could discern the backlit lettering above the shop two doors down; antiques and collectibles. 

That was a phrase he'd familiarized himself with in damn near every language under the sun by now. 

A bell dinged quietly overhead as he stepped into the storefront, grateful that it was even open past 9 o'clock at night. It was only one room and didn't have much space to walk around, but every available surface was stacked to the brim with knick-knacks of all shapes, colors, sizes, and price points under no apparent system of organization. Where some might be overwhelmed or put off by the volume of things to look at, Leon felt his heart skip a beat with excitement. He still had some time to kill before his transport back to the States was due to arrive, and not a single minute of it would be wasted overlooking any potential gems. 

Judging by the horrified stares he was attracting, Leon could imagine he looked fucking insane right now, clothes still splattered with wet, rotting blood and the barrel of his gun practically still smoking in his holster as he towered over a shelf in the back corner, scrutinizing a darling little plush bear in one hand and a set of hand-painted matryoshka dolls in the other like it was the hardest decision he would ever have to make. 

Ultimately, he chose not to decide at all-- money wasn't a factor, so why not buy both? If it weren't for the issue of luggage, he'd just say 'fuck it' and buy out the whole damn store. Unfortunately, helicopters tended to be quite limited in space. 

Self control was a skill Leon used to have mastered, perhaps even too well-- for a long time, every uncomfortable, unsightly, pesky little emotion was pressed down into a condensed cube to be neatly packed away in the very back corners of his brain, boxes upon boxes of dense feelings continuing to pile up and take over more and more space up there until the pressure became too much, the lid blew, and he went off the fucking handle. It wasn't something he was proud of by any means, all those long months blurred into mush through a lens of alcoholism and other reckless behaviors, but what he did try to let himself be proud of was his relative success in making it to the other side. 

That, of course, was a feat he did not accomplish without help, nor would he ever claim to. Chris Redfield was instrumental in his recovery in more ways than one, and at times, without even realizing it. He was a listening ear, a dealer of tough love, a trusted confidant...

...and the reason he had you. 

For obvious reasons, Leon had never gone out of his way to get a pet in his adult life. It just felt irresponsible with the inconsistency and uncertainty of his work situation, even with all the money in the world to spend on trainers and walkers and boarding and... whatever else, but at that point, it would feel less like a pet than an accessory, and Leon didn't have much interest in material. Never saw the need for it. Then one day Chris woke him up in the middle of the night banging on the door to his apartment with a gift he never expected.

"She's a... what?"

"A hybrid. She's a human-canine hybrid, Leon." 

Leon glanced between you and Chris with skepticism in his eyes, only to find the same look peering back at him in you. It was almost kind of funny that he'd have a hard time believing there could be such a thing as a human-canine hybrid, considering all he'd seen in his line of work, a thought that made his shoulders and his expression relax almost instantly. 

You were a real cutie, that was for sure, tucked behind Chris and staring up at Leon through your eyelashes with this grumpy little look on your face, a plush, patchwork bear clutched to your chest. The toy was equally as vibrant and colorful as your clothing, if not a bit worn with time. Your ears were long and droopy, your tail hanging low but swishing side-to-side with cautious interest, and the longer he studied you, the more he became endeared by you. 

"The B.S.A.A. rescued a group of hybrids from an illegal facility a few weeks ago, but finding accommodations for them isn't as simple as it sounds," Chris continued, resting a hand on your shoulder in an apparent move to reassure you. "Long story short, the people who were in charge of that facility aren't too happy about the acquisition, and the hybrids aren't safe at the B.S.A.A. anymore. Would you be willing to shelter her for a while?" 

The firm look in Chris' eyes-- and the fact that he just had to bring this up with you right in front of him-- made it clear he wasn't really asking. No mind, Leon would have done it anyway. It just would have been nice to have had a heads up to rectify the state of the apartment. 

"Yeah, of course," Leon nodded gently, stepping aside to allow you and Chris further into the apartment. "Make yourself at home." He caught the way your head tilted up a bit, as if you were studying the scent in the air, and he supposed it made sense that you likely were.

That was four months ago. And for the past four months, Leon quite enjoyed having you around. You were silly and playful, always bounding around the apartment with a toy clenched between your teeth or lounging in the sunny spots in front of the windows, pawing at him for belly rubs and treats and infinite tug-o-war matches. All that being said, you were equally stubborn, resisting him at every turn like magnetic repulsion, always kicking up a fuss seemingly just for the sake of it.

He wasn't sure. You were tough to read. Not only did some of your canine personality traits make you a bit forgetful and distractible at times, but you were also just terribly inconsistent with your affections, and he wasn't always sure what to make of it. All he knew was that he was determined to win you over in one way or another, and if he was going to do that, he'd have to figure you out first, and so far that was shaping up to be quite the herculean task. At least it seemed you would be here for a while. 

With the way he guarded your little treasures during the flight home, one might assume he was smuggling something, but he just couldn't stomach the thought of coming home without something to present to you. The hardened federal agent was determined to crack a smile out of you on his terms, to get you to admit what you both knew to be true. 

You had a crush on him. A big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on him, and you rejected the idea of owning up to it so staunchly that it was turning you into a bit of a brat. That was the one thing he could read about you, and it drove you up the wall. 

He certainly wasn't judging you. It would be an absurd lie to say he didn't have a big, fat, embarrassingly all-encompassing crush on you too-- he'd be insane if he didn't. But the back and forth was far too enjoyable, and Leon was always up for a good natured challenge. 

See, self control was something Leon had worked really, really hard to regain a handle on, and when it came to his drinking and brooding, he certainly had... but when it came to you? Not by a longshot. That being said, he would rather be pouring himself into courting you than pouring himself another bourbon. That's what he used to shut up that little voice in the back of his head that questioned whether or not he was putting too much energy into this, banking too much on it. 

It was innocent, right? It's not like you were a bad influence or whatever. If anything, a lot of nights that he would have spent at the bar were instead being spent at home playing with you. Surely that had to be a net positive, especially considering you would have otherwise been getting poked and prodded at in a lab. 

Stepping back into the apartment for the first time in weeks, Leon hadn't even bothered bringing his duffel bag in with him from the car, the only thing in his arms being the wrinkled paper bag from that antique shop. His own belongings could wait. As soon as he shut and locked the door behind him, stepping out of his shoes, the first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. 

No lively music from the shows you liked to watch, no little bumps or growls from you playing toys, no quiet padding of your feet across the hardwood from you coming to see who was at the door. He glanced at his watch, finding it was only half past nine in the evening, and while you often proclaimed to abide by a healthy bedtime for yourself, you had a habit of napping all day and bouncing off the walls all night. Something was amiss.

Stepping further into the apartment to investigate the scene, Leon peered into the living room. The lights were on, the TV was off, there were a few toys strewn about the couch and the floor, but not a glimpse of the sweet puppy who left them there. Odd. Suspicious. Maybe even staged. 

His lips came together in a whistle meant to grab your attention, knowing your sharp ears would hear it from anywhere in the apartment, even if you were sleeping. When that call garnered no response, he began to wonder if you were mad at him. After all, he was supposed to return almost three days ago, and while Chris had been able to stop by and check on you when he had the time, it just wasn't the same, and you didn't do well with loneliness, and Leon knew that. 

Turning on his heel to head deeper into the apartment, he continued to find you nowhere. Not climbing the countertops in the kitchen, or playing under the dining table, or even reluctantly having a bath. As he reached the end of the short hallway, there were only two doors left to open. 

Leon tried another whistle and called out, "Hey, pup? I'm home!" 

He waited, and listened... and heard nothing. Your bedroom door was closed, and it looked like the light was on in there, judging by the subtle glow spilling out beneath it, but still, no response. 

His bedroom door, however, was cracked open. The overhead light was off but the bedside lamp was on, and his dirty laundry basket was tipped over on the floor. When he stepped forward to turn it upright again, he thought he saw the bedding shuffle out of the corner of his eye. Closer inspection of the bed brought the case of his missing puppy girl drew to a close. Your soft tail was peeking out beneath the edge of the covers, the markings and patterns in your fur being undeniably familiar to him now. 

It was perfect timing, really-- he was just about to tip over into the realm of worrying about your safety, but now he was back to just worrying you were mad at him... and he couldn't help the amused grin that tugged at his expression. 

"Is that a little puppy in daddy's bed?" He asked aloud, his tone taking on a smitten and adoring lilt. Once again, he received no response... at least not verbally. Quietly setting down that paper bag, he stood there and watched with his arms crossed as your tail fluttered to life in response to his tone, the tip silently patting the sheets in a lazy and reluctant little wag that you might have actually gotten away with, if it weren't for the fact that your tail was in plain view. 

He was initially going to try a few more times to get a response out of you, hoping to make sure you were okay and to see if you wanted to talk, but he quickly realized that wasn't going to work with you. You weren't all doom and gloom like he tended to be, you were silly, you were playful, you were fundamentally kind. A lighthearted approach wouldn't work with him, or with most of the people he dealt with on a day-to-day basis, but it would almost certainly work with you. 

"Well," Leon stretched his arms up with a dramatic groan, "Since there's no puppies in the bed..."

And then he playfully toppled over the lump in the bedding, bracing himself on his elbows so as not to actually crush you, of course, music to his ears being the muffled squeal of stubborn discontent that sounded out from beneath the covers.

"Leon!" You whined, arms squirming around beneath him in a desperate flurry of moves to find the edge of the blanket, tugging it down to free your face for some air. Soon enough your head poked out from beneath the covers and your eyes were already narrowed into unamused slits at him. 

But that wasn't really what caught his attention about the look on your face. You were panting for breath, your ears flopped back lazily and your hair an absolute mess, your skin hot to the touch and clammy with sweat. Now his eyes were narrowed at you in suspicion, because you were certainly frustrated, just... not the kind of frustrated he was anticipating, if his suspicions were found to be correct. 

"You look guilty," He commented, brow raised as he took you by the chin and tilted your head this way and that, as though in observation. "Why do you look guilty, puppy?" 

"I'm not," You were quick to defend yourself-- much too quick, in Leon's opinion-- and you stubbornly recoiled back from his hand, continuing to squirm and resist beneath him. "You're squishing me!" 

You planted the palm of your hand dead in the center of his face in an attempt to push him away, the bedding slipping further down in the process to reveal your flushed collarbones and shoulders, both of which were bare. Were you naked? In his bed? 

He took you by the wrists to pin your hands down with ease, staring down at you in scrutiny. "Don't lie to me, sweetheart," He said, tone firm, but not unkind. "You're red as a tomato." 

With a stubborn whine, your ears flattened back against your messy head in what could only be read as shame, and that certainly wasn't what he was going for at all, even with the compromising position he had you in at the moment. It was just meant to tease you, but you looked mortified, and he could only imagine why that might be. 

"Puppy," He softened, letting go of your wrists, one hand taking you by the cheek to gently caress you. "You know I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on." 

Your mouth fell open and then snapped shut again a time or two, a clear indication that you were tripping over your words in search of the right ones. Finally, you managed, "It's... I-It's hot." 

"Then why are you all bundled up, huh?"

You didn't even really need to admit it at this point, because it was clear as day what was going on here-- after all, Chris had warned him this might happen, that hybrids could have... intense reproductive cycles-- but he also wasn't going to push it if you just wanted to ride it out on your own. He wasn't an expert on this, he didn't know exactly what you needed, and he didn't want to overstep and freak you out.

That being said, the thought that you'd retreated to his bedroom, desperate to surround yourself with his belongings in his absence just to cope with being in heat, was a remarkably good one.

This time you didn't seem to have a retort, still writhing under him and trying to push him off of you, which wasn't new behavior for you, though this time he did take it upon himself to give you some space instead of continuing to mess with you. 

"Alright, alright, relax, daddy's not making fun of you--" 

"You're not my daddy," You interjected stubbornly, but just like always, the rosy, searing blush on your face betrayed how you really felt about the topic, even as you added, "Stop trying to make me call you that!" 

Leon dearly and sincerely adored you, that much was to be sure, but your hard-headedness could run him ragged sometimes, when you'd dig your heels in so hard about things that seemed so innocuous. Whether or not you should be expected to call him daddy-- which he regularly enjoyed teasing you about but would never legitimately force you to do-- didn't feel like the biggest issue at hand here. Not by a mile. 

How was he supposed to focus on that when you were just... burning up? Panting for breath and shaking and whining? Oh dear God, this wasn't good, and for as much effort as he was putting into focusing on your wellbeing, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to focus on the way his pants were beginning to feel uncomfortably cozy in the front. He brought one hand down between you to adjust himself only to find he'd unintentionally solicited a faint, but distinctly needy moan from you in the process, presumably because you'd touched you somewhere he hadn't necessarily meant to. 

"G-Go away, Leon," You insisted, eyes screwed shut as you turned your head to the side and maintained that stubborn frown he knew so well on you. "Get off of me!" 

But your tail was wagging in an absolute blur, thumping mindlessly against the damp sheets and knocking in between his knees at an intensity that was impossible to miss. Leon's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth in an intrigued grin before finally sitting back on his haunches, still straddling you, but at least freeing your upper half. 

"Leon, quit--" 

You poor dear, you were so, so close to finishing that sentence, if only it weren't for the way Leon swung one leg between your own, driving his knee right up to the apex until you felt the muted pressure lavish your clit. Whatever you were about to say fizzled out on your tongue and instead popped out in a string of whimpers, your back arching up off the bed. The movement caused the bedding to slip down just a little bit further, confirming his suspicion that you were in fact naked, at least from the waist up.

Taking the soft globe of your breast into the palm of his hand, Leon let his thumb brush over your already pebbled nipple and asked lowly, "Oh, c'mon, pretty puppy... you're totally sure you don't want daddy's help? I think you're just being fussy..."

Your chest rumbled with a little growl, but it was more of a moan than that, and the fiery glare on your face was the perfect image of it. You were pissed, and quite frankly, it was a good look on you. Maybe even one of his favorites. Suddenly you were baring your teeth at him too, just pretending it was in the opposite way. You were such an open book to him. 

"You're being mean," Huffed the stubborn little puppy, but of course, Leon could be meaner. 

So he was. Leon snatched the covers off the bed in one quick swipe, and what was revealed to him beneath had to have been a thousand times better than anything he might have expected. You were naked, yes, but tangled between your legs was a pair of his sweatpants, undoubtedly retrieved from the depths of the overturned laundry basket, the grey cotton soaked through in patches with slick all over the crotch and thighs. 

Fucking Christ, you weren't just getting off to the thought of him, but also the scent of him, the feeling of his clothes on your skin, and presumably, an idea not unlike what he was already teasing you with; letting you rub one out on his thigh. 

Squishing your cheeks in one hand, he said firmly, "Look at me. Do you honestly feel like I'm being mean to you?" 

There was a pause while you stared at each other, your eyes searching his own skeptically. It didn't really seem he was messing with you, no, in fact he appeared like he really wanted to help you. The back and forth was fun and he enjoyed the little game you'd made out of getting to know each other, but when it came to your comfort and wellbeing, he wasn't interested in being forced to solve puzzles. You couldn't really blame him. 

"N-No," You admitted. 

"Exactly, so just... simmer down, will you?" 

This time Leon didn't give you another chance to tell him to fuck off. He scooped you up at the waist and pulled you to your knees, drawing your body close to his until you were straddling his left thigh. Eyes wide, you stared at him stiffly, like you were too afraid to move. Huffing out a breath, he rolled his eyes with a smirk and gripped your hips, tugging you down until you were finally bearing your weight on him. 

For as fast as your pointed teeth sank into your bottom lip to quiet yourself, it didn't even matter. You still let out a pleasured whine, ears flat against your head and your tail hung low, the tip swishing in a reluctant little wag that patted the outside of his knee with every other beat. 

"You're too precious for your own damn good," He grumbled, thumbs brushing soothing circles into your hips. "Y'know that, pup?"

Breaths falling short, it felt like your head was full of warm mud, teetering for balance on your neck as your upper body tipped forward to grasp at his arms. As expected, Leon caught you effortlessly, steadying you by cupping your face in his hands so he could look you right in your braindead little eyes, your noses almost touching as your tongue lolled out in lazy gasps.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get much more out of you in the way of words at this point, so it was a damn good thing you had that pretty tail knocking about. He figured all that wiggling was the closest he'd get to a literal window into your mind. 

"Go on, then," Leon smoothed your hair away from your sticky forehead, still mindful to hold you upright. His tone was low and, as always, far too sweet for you... but it was so nice, it vibrated down to the base of your spine and made you dizzier. You were just about to fulfill what he was encouraging you to do when he added wryly, "You've already made such a mess, don't get shy on me now." 

A quiet whimper stuttered from your dry throat-- you couldn't sit still anymore, he was being evil and he knew it, downright evil... and you typically would have stuck up your nose at him and brooded on it for a while, but you didn't even have the strength of mind for that at the moment. You hardly even realized you were already rocking your hips back and forth against the clothed meat of his thigh, nails threatening to snap under the pressure as they begged to sink past his shirt and into his muscles. 

It was pleasant, sure, but it wasn't nearly enough, especially not after hours and hours and hours of tossing and turning in his bed, rubbing yourself nearly numb with your fingers and your toys and his pillows and his clothes, aching for something tangible and warm to nurse the pain away. You let your forehead rest against his own for a moment to catch your breath, hoping to find the right angle, but you just weren't getting what you needed, and the frustration alone made your glassy eyes sting with the threat of tears. 

That just wouldn't do. 

"Oh, you really made a mess, didn't you, sweet girl?" Leon cooed sympathetically, shushing your delicate cries. Thumbs skimming over your burning cheeks, he asked quietly and carefully, "Why don't you let daddy lick it up, hm?" 

Your expression scrunched up in a weak pout and your empty little head bobbed up and down in an airy nod, and just as soon as you gave him that go-ahead, he was moving to make it so. You were on your back in seconds, Leon's broad hands spreading your plush thighs apart to make space for himself between them, and for as cool and composed as he was trying to appear right now, he couldn't help the low moan that made it past him just at the sight of you. 

Sure, he'd seen more than enough by now to guess that you were wet, but you weren't just wet, you were dripping all over yourself. It was all he could do to collect as much of you on his tongue as possible, groaning at the taste and dragging you closer by your hips until he was as close as he could get, the tip of his nose buried against the curls at the lowest point of your mound as he lapped you up with abandon.

You were writhing and crying, legs kicking out at the stimulation before drawing back up to dig into his shoulders and pull him further into you, into the mess of you. He'd managed to find it somehow, to become that something tangible and warm and redefine it, unraveling you from the root with a sanguine sense of desperation that was tempered by his undying commitment to treating you like you were made of glass. 

Your tail was curling up tight against the base of your spine, your chest was heaving for breath, you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore, and he hardly could either. 

But he also couldn't stand not to. If you had the capacity to pay attention to small details, you might have noticed his eyes were just as bleary and drunk as yours were. Leon recorded your every movement in his mind like scripture from this angle, his own hips rutting down into the bed while yours bucked into his mouth, and it was only when he found the strength to pull away for air that he found a moment to reorient himself in reality. 

His lips were puffy, rosy, and slick with you as he caught his breath, two fingers toying with your puffy, aching clit in the absence of his tongue. It was almost like muscle memory for him to reach up with his free hand and pat your belly, an affectionate hum ringing from him at the near-immediate reaction it got out of you, even in a state like this. You were squirming and arching beneath him as your quivering body fought to determine priority over the attention brought by either hand, a rather endearing dilemma to have found yourself in. 

"Oh, my poor baby," Leon preened, lavishing the inside of your right thigh with kisses. "You're so cute..." 

Unable to help himself from letting you have the best of both forms of pampering, he replaced the tips of his fingers with his tongue yet again, freeing both hands to pet your soft tummy. The movements were lazy, but sure enough, your tail was going off as fast as it could while you laid there shivering and whining and clawing at him, tumbling over the edge into release before you could come up with a way to warn him first. 

As if he would have cared anyway. A warning wouldn't have changed anything. Hell, it might have even spoiled what turned out to be a dizzying moment of unabashed indulgence for him. 

Gentle, adoring hands kneading delicately at all your favorite spots, Leon willfully deprived himself of oxygen in pursuit of every drop of your syrup as it flowed from you, knowing he would come to regret being wasteful later if this should turn out to be a one-time thing. He lost himself to the throes of hedonism for several drawn out moments until he was confident you were licked clean, until he came to again and realized you had gone completely limp in the wake of your expenditure. 

Rolling over onto his back, Leon spread out just as bonelessly across the bed as you did, the both of you a sorry sight of sweat and heat. He spent several minutes trying to find a way to break the silence. With the haze of lust wearing off a bit and clearing up space in his mind for more intelligent processes, Leon was already beginning to dread the inevitable conversation this would warrant between the two of you.

Lucky for him, that was so far outside of the realm of your current train of thought... or lack thereof. You certainly felt better, but that didn't mean your brain wasn't mud anymore. Little else mattered to your muggy, muddled mind but the here and now. 

In an unexpected move, you rolled onto your side to rest your head against his chest. The way you struggled to meet his eyes was enough for him to know you were likely still struggling to talk, or maybe you just didn't really want to, but the olive branch you'd extended demonstrated your agreeable state, which was more than he could've said for you half an hour ago. 

Shit, half an hour ago he was still hoping a couple presents from his trip would win your affections, yet here he was with the taste of you lingering on his lips, your naked body curled up to him for comfort. 

Wrapping his arm tightly around you until you were tucked up comfortably into his side, Leon rested his chin atop your head and mumbled fondly, "What am I gonna do with you, huh? Can't even sleep in my own bed after a long mission 'cause this pretty little puppy made such a big mess... I hope you know how to work the washing machine."

[diejager]

if you don't mind can i ask for your take on civilian s/o and yandere makarov? i wonder how he behave around an s/o who's like the opposite of him (like they're kind, gentle and has not known violence ever). hcs or short scenario or anything depends on you i don't mind (there's a drought of makarov content tbh 😮‍💨).

thanks for considering this and please take your time. have a good day 😚.

”Love” Cw: manipulation, obsessive behaviour, delusions of love, humain training, forceful taking, verbal abuse, tell me if I missed any.

Makarov doesn’t love. He knew how to, but he never truly did. He couldn’t with the heart and mind he grew up cultivating, to build his empire and strength, dwindling his heart’s empathy. Ironically, such ignorance towards love only increased his obsession, the amount of it that would only climb higher and higher, because in a sense, the loss of such emotions lead to a loss of a limit, driving him to insane lengths to achieve what he had his mind on.

He only knew death and bloodshed, the destruction of the mundane and corruption of the innocent, being the source of the rot and decay in the cells of a flower, to make it wilt and dust. Perhaps that’s where his interest in the normal stemmed, that curiosity that would someday bloom into obsession. He searched for an object of obsession, something - someone - to put all this attention on, something tangible, solid under his hands and malleable to his intentions. Despite his lack of time to dawdle, to spend on meaningless affairs, he found the perfect subject, someone so starkly different from him and his world.

There was a dichotomy in Makarov’s world, the harshness of war, battle and conquering of countries, and the deceptive softness in his eyes, the gentle touch of his scarred and calloused hands, and the coo with his sly tongue. You were the only softness in his life, a civilian he -one day - decided to pick up from the streets, bright-eyed and innocent to the horror he saw and spear-headed. Your tired eyes untouched by his mind and your scarless body free of any conflict that he could start with a simple wave of his hand.

There’s a need in his mind to see this innocence wilt away, to pry your mind of any autonomy and freedom you’ve lived with. Makarov wanted a doll, something soft and precious he could corrupt with words and ruin with his hands, deceptively gentle and loving, a poem spilling from a cruel smirk and eyes gleaming darkly. He has his ways to turn you into a thing of his imagination, to make you into his willing Russian doll, layer over layer of maliciousness and subservience.

He’s a man of culture, letting the people under him do all the dirty work. Despite all the viciousness and madness in his being, he doesn’t hit, he doesn’t abuse the object of his obsession, that was reserved for men lower than him, poor and mindless men. Rather, he preferred manipulation, well-thought words used in right situation to have you crawling back to him for safety, protection and comfort. He wanted you to come to him on your own, to make your pliant and uncaring of the wider view. He, after all, took you for himself, to endure himself in a second source of power.

Makarov has a silver tongue, whispering words into your ears that take root, your doubts and fears growing in the depth of your heart, bringing you closer to the man who promised to protect you. His fingers wiping away your tearful cheeks, pearly gems rolling down your cheek as he teases you about being worried. You shouldn’t be so fearful with him beside you, he’s your warden, your all-powerful and dependable lover.

He won’t let a shred of suspicion towards him fester, it’ll be dealt with swiftly with the call of your name, breaking down your vulnerable mind and building it back up in his image, his opinions were yours, his thoughts were yours, his goals were yours. So much so that you were his, knowing fundamentally that whatever he said goes.

”мой маленький цветок,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against yours, hands soft but wandering, laying down chains over your waist, around your dainty wrists and tightening the collar around your neck, keeping the hold on your mind, “You did so well, I’m proud of you.”

Positive reinforcement. He often used positive reinforcement to deepen his hold, to sink his teeth into your clean soul. Sweetened words with a voice he taught you to crave and possessive touches of bloody hands with intentions that he blinded you of, finding a way to make you want them.

“What do you say?” His hand traveled up your jaw, featherlight fingers cradling your ear and cheek until it stopped under your chin, tilting your head to look at his narrowed eyes, proud and dark.

“Thank you, Vladimir.”

He smiled, a thin-lipped grin.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia

[koisuko]

can i get headcanons of petnames the earthrealm gang and others would give their S/O?

Note: these are all predictions based on my observations of their behaviors, some also inspired by others, let me know if you feel they are inaccurate!

tw: none, fluff, fem leaning pet names, this is a long one *sweats*

ft. Liu Kang, Bi-han, Kuai Liang, Raiden, Tomas, Kenshi, Johnny, Kung Lao

Bi-Han

Dove, wife, love, my heart, my snowflake, little warrior, my queen, little mouse, hun, gem, beloved, blossom

this man is not one for open acts of affection Infront of others, these would be in private most likely. But when he's around you, behind closed doors, he's a real softy. He also gives me possessive vibes, so this inspired some. (Due to his closed off demeanor, this was by far the hardest to decipher.)

Kuai Liang

my heart, my love, little flame, baby, beauty, my queen, little dragon, my one, darling, firefly/dragonfly

Like his brother, he would keep open acts of affection to a minimum. Not because he's uncomfortable showing it, he would just rather keep those special moments between the two of you. Although, he is more than willing to show how much he loves you Infront of others.

Tomas Vrbada

my love, baby, koloušek (little deer), sweetheart, angel, my queen, honey, beautiful

Tomas would most likely be more open than his brothers, showing affection whenever he's in your presence. He definitely gives me the vibe that he would be very soft, gentle, and shy when using these with you however.

Johnny Cage

dream girl, honey, hot stuff, doll face, kitty/kitten, sexy, beautiful, smoke show, my girl, baby/baby girl/babe, the mrs. , sweetheart, princess, wonder woman, good lookin', my superstar, eye candy

Johnny is by far the most open, PDA isn't even in his dictionary. If you're their, he's calling you all of the above with no shame. He hopes people are looking when he kisses you in public and calls you princess. He wants everyone around to know you're his and his only. (Johnny is an open book so he was the easiest to come up with)

Liu Kang

my treasure, my queen, my love, my heart, jewel, goddess, my everything, my one, my light, beloved, lovely, gem

Liu Kang is a busy man, working as earthrealm's protector and god of fire and all. When he gets the chance to, however, he's holding you close and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He is a very humble man, and sees his s/o as someone to worship, someone he holds dearly to his heart and would show this any chance he gets. Pet names, holding hands, and gentle hugs in public are the farthest he goes, he is respectful and would rather keep his private life well..private.

Raiden

my love, beautiful, darling, my queen, my spark, sunshine, angel, precious, lovely, little butterfly, my one

Raiden would be much like Liu Kang and Tomas, showing only soft affection with a shy smile in public and keeping his full love for you hidden from prying eyes. Like Liu Kang, he is very respectful and would also worship his lover. If his love wanted his to show more affection in public? Consider it done, although expect a deep red to engulf his face in a rush of embarrassment if anyone (cough cough johnny) teases him on the matter.

Kenshi Takahashi

baby, love, honey, sweetheart, angel, princess, beautiful/gorgeous, wife, cutie, my rose, pretty, my girl

Kenshi is possessive, within limits, not overly so but you are his and his only. He will show his affection in public through hand holding, forehead kisses, long hugs, and lots of small sweet kisses on your lips and face. He will most likely point out all of his favorite features about you, one kiss at a time. He would still prefer to keep it private, but if someone oversteps, he's pulling you close and calling you his.

Kung Lao

love, baby, honey, sweetheart, doll, beautiful, honey/hun, candy, blossom, baby cakes, hot stuff, dumpling, cutie, cupcake

Kung Lao is a foodie, expect a lot of nicknames related to food. His cocky behavior shows in the nicknames he gives, giving you sarcastic and joking nicknames in public, causing a bit of banter between you two. In private he's letting you know you're his, in the softest way possible. He's very respectful of women in particular, he would never call you names to hurt your feelings, especially you being his special someone.

[tempobaekh]

Bakugou Katsuki dating a hyper feminine fem!reader

(who is also the human embodiment of Barbie)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x hyper-feminine!fem!freader Warnings: fluff, maybe ooc bakugou? idk, the pictures at the top DO NOT indicate how the reader looks, reader is a Barbie dolls collector idk if that should be a warning I’m not good at this, there is nothing specific body type, hair texture or skin color described Note: Since I watched the Barbie movie I have been OBSESSED with it and hyper-fixated on it, so this idea came to my mind. I am not good at writing/writing headcanons so if it's bad please don't mind it. But do let me know what I can do better in the future.

Hyper and girly gf x grumpy and anger issues bf

Or la la la and ok ok ok

That’s literally you two

Dating someone who is hyperfeminine and is literally the human embodiment of Barbie would be an interesting dynamic for Bakugou

But yknow the saying ‘opposite attracts’

First time meeting you Bakugou would be utterly baffled at first by your pink-themed wardrobe, sparkly accessories, and bubbly personality; it would be completely alien to him.

At first, he might find you overly cheerful and appearance-focused. However, over time, he would begin to appreciate your confidence, bubbly personality, and unique traits (and also your odd obsession with collecting Barbies)

He might even secretly enjoy your knack for fashion and makeup although he will never understand your obsession with the color pink

OCCASIONALLY might let you do makeup on him bc he loves you too much to say no to you

Glaring at his reflection in the hand mirror with pink eyeshadow on his eyelid “I look ridiculous.”

but will literally threaten you if you tell someone what he doesn’t know is that you secretly took a picture of him with the pink and glittery makeup

Bakugou often reluctantly let himself get dragged by you to go shopping INSISTING on holding all your bags for you walking with you like an intimidating guard dog

Yknow that tik tok trend where a girl has night walking privilege and then they show their intimidating boyfriend walking with them? Yeah that’s you guys anywhere y’all go

Will glare and almost physically get ready to fight someone if they look at you oddly or comment on your appearance

The outfit contrast is COMEDIC between you two when you guys go out

Bc like you are all pink, bows, frills, sparkle, gems, and smiley

While he is all black, in large jackets, combat boots, hunched over shoulders, and a scowl on his face

Yall definitely get looks and double check by people

He will definitely give you self-defense lessons bc even though he is always there to protect you he needs to know if there is a situation where he can’t be there to protect you which is NOT often you can defend yourself

“If I’m not there to beat up some shitty idiot, at least you can kick some ass.”

“But I thought you would always be there to be my knight in shining armor.” you would say teasingly

Gets dizzy every time he sees your closet he's dramatic bc it’s all shades of pink, glitters, frills, and sparkles 

Pointing at your high heels; “How the hell do you walk around in those death traps??”

Bakugou ALWAYS remembers every little thing about you

Like your favorite food, flower, color that is really obvious or snacks, he even remembers your favorite Barbie from your huge Barbie collection

Bakugou would struggle to express his feelings in words, but his actions would speak volumes he will go out of his way to ensure your comfort and safety, and his subtle ways of affection always make your heart flutter

Surprises you with an intimate candle-light dinner with a big bouquet of pink roses

“Don’t get used to this mushy crap, okay?” he would mutter with a small smile

And you would pinch his cheeks “Who knew you were so cheesy Katsu.”

And you appreciate his ways of showing affection 

Bakugou once surprised you with a limited-edition Barbie that you had been wanting for a while and you cried

Y'all's dates might involve a mix of Bakugou’s preferred activities and your interests/ideas

So it’s a different type of date every time and each of them more fun and sweet than the last

Bakugou uses a few different pet names to call you by:

Doll/Dollface: Bakugou, at first, used the nickname with a hint of sarcasm but it evolves into an endearing term

Barbie: While this pet name seems like an obvious choice, Bakugou playfully uses it to acknowledge your resemblance to the iconic doll

Babe: A more casual and common term

Sunshine: He uses this term to acknowledge your bright and positive personality, even if he’d never admit that you have a positive influence on his mood

Princess: Bakugou might reluctantly use this pet name when he is feeling particularly soft towards you, even if he’d never say it out loud in public might let it slip once or twice

When you heard about the Barbie movie coming out you were SO EXCITED

Talking Bakugou’s ear off about the film and begging him to come with you

He is too whipped and can never say no to you so of course he is coming with you

You already had your outfit and makeup picked out for the film and also chose a Ken outfit for Bakugou fucking imagine him in the mojo dojo casa house Ken outfit with the fur coat SKSJSKJSJ which he hesitantly wore just to make you happy

He was definitely not enjoying himself by being your Ken no definitely not

He also bought you the Margot Robbie Barbie as a gift to surprise you and you swore you fell even more for the ruby eyed man in front of you

So in conclusion Bakugou loves you a lot and will do anything for you no matter what it is or how ridiculous it is

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback is appreciated.

[sketchy-angel]

Custom Hualian dolls

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

I started this project in February 2022. I originally made a Puqi Shrine diorama out of an old cardboard box. I still have it and I'll post it soon after I make some minor alterations. I just really wanted to share these 2 since I spent so much effort on them.

Back then, I purchased 2 Obitsu 11cm dolls. I bought them on Aliexpress but judging by the packaging and the fact they were around $15 each I'm pretty sure they're legit.

In this blog I'll talk a bit about the process for those unfamiliar with doll customizing and everyone else who is interested in the process. I'm a doll collector but my customizing skills are very rudimentary and mostly rely on winging it and hoping for the best.

And my motto during this process was "nobody's gonna see the back."

I made the prototype clothes back in 2022 and the stitching was ass. And it took me until last week to gather enough courage to start working on the wigs. I originally purchased very cheap doll hair but it refused to cooperate and I decided to use felt instead.

. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊ . 𓇢𓆸

⋆｡˚ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

His clothes were already basically done when I started over. I added the red ribbon details, added the flower nail charm, the red string and I made the wig, of course.

These outfits are by no means historically or cannonically accurate. I had to modify them to accommodate the scale and my subpar sewing skills. I've gotten much better at sewing since then so don't look at those shoulder seams...

And I still don't know what's going on with the back of his red robes. I think I ran out of fabric :-|

The braid is made using a string of black yarn. The vambraces are actually fake adjustable ear cuffs.

I'll show the wig making process more in Xie Lian's section since Hua Cheng's was easier to make. I just slapped a bunch of felt pieces on the wigcap with glue and voilà!

And E'Ming was made using pencils and gel polish on a piece of cardboard and Xie Lian's butterfly was made with the help of a nail sticker and magnetic cat eye polish. In the finished photo you can see a red gem sticker on E'Ming's eye. I don't know how I feel about it. Do your prefer the design without it? I can easily take it off.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ˚｡⋆

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･.˚⊹.

𔓘｡˚ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Xie Lian's outfit and hair was a bit of a challenge but it was fun. I was inspired by several designs and decided to just wing it and make my own outfit instead of recreating an existing one in its entirety.

Also, as you can tell, these dolls have many articulation points that allow for so much posability. I sewed the clothes onto them to keep it in place so they have limited range of movement, especially Hua Cheng, but I'm fine with it. They can still pose nicely.

Instead of making inner and outer robes I decided to make one pair of robes and the second pair that's folded over the shoulders stops at the waist and is hidden by the belt/sash(?) idk English forgive me.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ˚｡𔓘

𔓘｡˚ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

I tried to make the "main robes" fold over at the waist but I misplaced the rest of that white fabric 2 years ago so I just extended the edges on 3 sides with the sheer fabric from an old curtain and hoped for the best.

Oh, and the shoes are also from Aliexpress. I try not to purchase often from them but I could not find any alternatives...

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ ˚｡𔓘

𔓘｡˚ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The wig making process was... Interesting. I won't show the entire wigcap by itself to spare your eyes so here's balding Xie Lian lol.

The bun was made by rolling felt into a little roll. I then stuck two bigger felt circles onto one side and glued the edges after I cut the outer edges like you would cut a pizza. Does this make sense? Probably not.

Basically, make a rose type thing.

And if you're wondering, the wigs are removable and kind of posable as well.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

And that's basically it <3

I wanted to include better quality pics but it won't allow me to post more than 10 at once so I had to stuff them into collages.

Forgot to mute the video so if you hear my cat wreaking havoc in the background no you didn't.

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

─────────────୨ৎ─────────────

I may or may not be working on another project centered around Beefleaf...

When I was a kid, I couldn't afford good quality dolls so I played with small doll-like keychains that had knitted dresses, arms and legs made of string, heads made of painted wooden beads and little beanies on their heads.

I have similar beads laying around so I plan to make similar keychains that look like fem Beefleaf.

Of course, I gotta finish that damn Puqi Shrine and hope my cat doesn't cause it to collapse. Maybe one day I'll make keychain versions of other TGCF characters as well!

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

[sweetracha]

-Size training with chan and changbin, them being so big and buff got me feeling some kinda way. Just imagining dom! chan benig so nice and soft while you try to fit him down your throat. MehAps anal? slowly working your way up to bigger sized dildos until you're ready for either one of their cocks? Just reader being small and them forcing their dick into you- so basically big dick energy with both of them- ok thank youuu <333

This ask has me all sorts of messed up! Anon I am so thankful for you.

Okay I wasn't sure how to break this down, so I am going to do both boys separately than Poly!

Chan would be so caring and sweet when size training you. I feel like it all started from the first time you two were getting intimate. It ended early because you couldn't take him all the way, he was just too big. While he had a short-lived ego boost, he saw the pain in your eyes and immediately stopped. After a long discussion about insecurities and wants, you two decided to size train. He bought a bunch of toys in varying sizes but never bigger than himself. You two had a schedule set for when you would begin stretching. I picture him sitting against the headboard with you sat in-between his legs. He would slowly draw circles on your clit and ease in the toy, only praises left his mouth. Chan was concerned when you said you were ready to try him again but was completely impressed when he was able to sink right in. While he may still be praising you... his movements were punishing.

Changbin would see size training as a sort of exercise. He likes to push the limits of his body through working out and when he saw you struggling to deep throat him, he got a wicked smile on his face. It was a regimented routine he had set up for you. Every time you would go down on him for training, he would set up reps. Half his dick in your mouth for 10 seconds, pull back for 5, then repeat. After each "work out" Binnie would take such good care of you. Just like muscle training, you needed to rest and respect your body. That way when your neck session came, he could push you just a bit more. You didn't even realize until after he finished that you managed to let his fuck your throat like a doll.

Now the two of them together would be so hot. I think the two of them would size train you for anal. They both get so jealous of who gets to ruin you, so why not at the same time. They bought the cutest set of plugs with different gem colors to represent sizes. Depending on the day, one of the boys would lay your naked body over their lap while the other spread you open and nestled in the plug. It was always loving touches and sweet words. Once it was secured, they made sure you came at least twice. one from each of them. They were getting ready to set up for you next plug when they noticed one was missing...the largest size. When they found you sat all pretty in bed with a glimmering pink plug, the two boys lost it. Now it was a competition of who got to use it first.

[heartfullofleeches]

Cholly and Jessica rabbit darling 🙏🙏 maybe a blurb?

Toon Yan + G.N "Jessica Rabbit" Singer Darling Blurb

-

There's a certain bar in town.

The walls haven't received a fresh coat of paint since opening day and the drinks are piss poor at best yet lines wrapped around the block on slow days and patrons regularly fought for their spot below the already crowded stage. The old girl had a trick up its sleeve - a star act who stole bated breathes with once glance and captured lonely hearts with first hymn. A singer with the grace of an angel plucked from the heavens above and the lure of those below. How such a place came to employ a prized gem like them was a mystery, but so long as they were under their roof - seats were packed and business was booming.

With their charm, it was only a matter of time before suitors came rolling in. The love letters and gifts were sweet for a time, but a silent rejection just wasn't enough for those trapped under their spell. Fans threw themselves at the poor thing every chance they received - ambushing them outside their dressing room or on walks home and even climbing on stage in the middle of their performance on a few occasions. The singer was a professional in letting down their admirers gently, but everyone has their limits and when someone couldn't take the hint-

"I'm flattered, truly, but I already have someone waiting for me at home. They get terribly worried if I'm not home soon at this hour."

Their claims were true - in a way. In the past, all that waited for them was an empty bed and a tv, but through countless hours of watching old cartoons - it seemed there was always someone watching them back. It'd definitely put a dent in their tips if word spread far, but they had to get it out the new out their at some point. Besides, if anybody knew, they certainly kept their mouths shut to the press. In reality, their relationship wasn't as hidden as they portrayed. If one paid close attention to the loudest cheers in the crowd, they might piece two and two together with the voice that follows them home.

"Another amazing performance, Doll. I don't know how you manage to do it, but it's like a breath of fresh air everytime you get up on that stage."

"Oh, stop. You know I wouldn't be anywhere without the support of my fans and a certain little troublemaker."

"Well, I'd say that someone is a pretty lucky person. Would'a brought a fruit basket to go with those flowers I left in your dressing room, but honestly all the ones I've eaten recently have tasted a little bitter - cause I've got the sweetest peach on my arm right now."

"You're terrible!"

Many questioned why the singer choose who they did. Nobody ever got a good look at them upfront, but even from afar the difference were stark. The singer was taller than their partner even without heels, not to mention their strange tone of voice and need to throw a joke into almost every conversation. What on earth would someone as elegant as them want with a creature like that. The answer was quite simple.

"They make me laugh."

The answer might seem a little lackluster, but in a time and city like this, you'll fine a big of laughter does the soul good. There was more to it than that. Their partner made them feel safe and secure. They knew when to cut the theatrics and truly care for their love in moments of need. On top of that, the singer hadn't ran into any issues with crazy fans since their relationship began. They assumed they were deterred by the fact of them having a lover and while some were - majority weren't. They poured all their time and money into getting their attention, and they chose some random person for what - a laugh? There must be more- More than the laughter or cheap comfort. They could provide all that and then some. If anyone decided to let their anger get the better of them and confronted the singer's lover they'd gladly tell them.

"You wanna know why they choose me over you and the rest of the chumps that fawn over a taken person? You reeeeeally wanna know why Y/n picked me? Haha!... - that's easy. You can beat me, shoot me, stab me and I'll be just fine, but all it takes for you is one little cut and you're gone for good. And you'll never guess what I have in my other hand...just like all the others... If ya do - might even give you a five seconds head start."

[fandom-monium]

Sweet Poison - Part 5

Summary: In which you avoid Zagreus, until one day you can't. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

WC: 2.4k

TW: Zagreus (Hades Video game) x Succubus!Reader, GN!Reader, a succubus AND an artist bc sex is just work and food, au where in game Zag commissions the paintings using gems, what if boons actually affected Zagreus, slow build, strangers to friends to lovers trope, sex work, fluff, fluff and humor, mutual pining, idiots in love, mild angst, pheromones (technically it’s succubi magic aura), Zagreus is at least 6 ft convince me otherwise, eventual smut, MINOR descriptions of blood and injuries. Physical touch, affection. Just Zagreus being soft and doting and kind to you this chap

Damn her, damn her, damn her, damn—

Teeth clenched, your vision swims as you grip the rim of the basin for balance, washing off the blood as red drops swirl and mix like watercolor paints before the water clears again. It’s days like this where you wish you can get stronger, more powerful, but there’s a limit to everyone’s full potential, and unfortunately you met yours a long time ago.

Still, it’d be nice.

Contrary to popular belief, succubi can be vicious warriors, they’re simply in their own class. Their abilities, their magic, while never measuring up to gods, could ruin an army in a master’s hand, but it has its limits. Especially amongst demonkind.

As the water calms, you grind your teeth at the sight of your reflection, assessing the damage. Blood and darkness, that’s going to bruise, that one’s definitely going to scar, and you curse the universe because your job’s about to get that much harder now that you may have to use a glamor. Oh, you swear next time you get your hands on her, you’ll—

A resounding rumble quakes the room.

Your chamber door.

You curse. But you're sluggish from the blood loss, and before you can hurl yourself out the balcony, Zagreus steps in without his usual greeting, panting and laurels slightly askew, like he rushed in knowing you’re here. Wild eyes dart to every corner of the chamber, as if he half-expects you to be hiding, until they fall on you, embarrassingly hunched over your healing fountain.

One glance at your battered face, he’s beside you in a flash.

"Zag—”

“What happened?” His tone is surprisingly strained as his hands, clean of blood and gore, reach for you. Then something flickers across his face that makes him hover, his eyes—red and green and wide—taking in your new wounds with horror.

If only you had the energy to cower, shield your bruised face. He’s the last person you want to see right now, and your vision blurs, hating how he of all people is seeing you like this—broken, imperfect.

“I’m fine, Zagreus,” You croak, your voice quiet as you swallow your insecurity like bile. A poor attempt to put some distance between you, you try to step aside, but your knees buckle, and before you know it, you crumple like a house of cards.

Of course, Zagreus catches you—asshole—strong, lean arms gentle as he hugs you to his chest, holding you up as if you’re the most precious of gems. Hate how quick you are to relax in his hold, clay in his hands. Blood and darkness, it’s so easy, so quick, so… right.

You squirm against him, but his grip tightens slightly, mindful of your injuries.

“Sure you are,” Zagreus snorts, though he gazes down at you so soft and sweet you want to shout, wondering if he tastes the same. “Come on, I’ll patch you up.”

Unable to protest, you let him carry you like a rag doll, limp in his hands before he gently props you up on the lounge chair. You lean against the back with a groan. “Really, I'm—”

“'Fine', yes, you’ve said that,” Already, he’s rummaging through your cupboards, at least the ones he knows aren’t filled with art supplies. “Do you have bandages?”

“… Second last cabinet on your left.”

Without a word, he walks through your chamber with self assurance, maneuvering around your easel and stepping over splayed out canvas as they finish drying, careful where to leave his burning footprints. He finds what he’s looking for easily enough, a moment later pulling up a chair and plopping down in front of you. His hands are methodical as he lays everything out; two bowls of water, a small cloth, and the saddest little first aid kit.

In your defense, you hardly end up like this.

You watch his hands as he dips the towel in the water then wrings it out, before gently dragging it across your exposed arms. You flinch as he begins wiping off the grime.

“I know,” His tone is soft, terribly understanding as he continues. “Give it a minute, you’ll feel much better soon.”

You want to snort, snap at him that you’re fully aware of how it works, but the cool sting of water, the mild burn from the open gashes and cuts along your skin, is quick to clench your jaw shut. Pain ebbs across your body, and you watch him speechless, the rhythm he follows, painfully gentle as he drags the cloth across your skin, careful not to aggravate your wounds. Clean water, wring out, wipe, rinse, repeat; he even goes out of his way to change the water, and the relief that comes after would make you sink into the couch, if not for Zagreus's silence.

He's yet to say a word since he entered. He'd asked you already, yes, but you take him for someone who doesn't give up that easily. You expected more of a fight. Now, you're not so sure.

"Zagreus, I… I—" It's hoarse, hardly above a whisper, but it's a start.

You feel him pause before choosing to lay into your newfound cowardice like a wet blanket, avoiding his eyes. Who knows what you'll do if you meet his gaze.

Sensing your hesitation, Zagreus clears his throat, "Perhaps you should save your energy. We can chat when you're healed."

You shake your head, though it only makes the room spin. "No, I need to tell you this now. Before..."

"Before what? You start avoiding me again?" He resumes, wrapping gauze around your forearm, his touch ghosting your skin as he holds your arm out. There’s no malice or respite in his tone, soft and withdrawn as it comes, but you wince. If anything, it’s bittersweet, with an acceptance he long held before he approached your chamber, and it leaves your heart clenching. You don't know how to respond. Are you that obvious?

"(Your Name)... did I do something wrong?"

You blink, whirling to face him.

Zagreus bites his lip, emotions he can’t fathom threatening to spill out of him. That's always been his flaw, according to Father. He's attuned to his emotions, more than Nyx, Father, literally any of the chthonic gods. He stares as his hands tremble, attempting to knot the bandage. "Because if I did, please just tell me what it is so I can make things right between us."

"No-no, you've done nothing wrong," You assure him, sitting up through the pain even when Zagreus protests. When he raises a brow at your answer, you rush to add, "I swear! I've been busy with... work." Technically, this isn’t a lie.

"... 'Busy'. Is that how you got these?" Zagreus holds out your mangled arm by your hand, flicking his eyes over your body in the way you hate most. You'd take aura-induced desire over this: pity, disgust.

You wrench your arm away, cradling it in your lap and shrugging. "What can I say? The life of a demon is a hard one."

"(Your Name), who did this?"

You freeze. Nerves go haywire, and you squirm under his piercing gaze, burning through you as you contemplate lying to him, but you know better. At this point, you know each other too well, and—blood and darkness—he'll see right through you. There’s a defeated sigh, then a quiet, "Alecto."

Zagreus's eyes darken, but you wave him off. "Don't worry. In her defense, I kind of deserved it."

Zagreus sputters, taken aback, staring at you as if you offended him. "'Don't worry'? Don't—how can you say that? First I've seen you in days, and you're—" A sharp intake of breath, and he clenches his jaw so hard you're surprised it doesn't break.

"It's not a big deal. I disobeyed direct orders, and..." You trail off, thinking back.

Since meeting Zagreus, seeds of doubt sprout in your chest, in your lungs, suffocating you as you question the system you’ve worked under for so long. You’ve never questioned who you are and what you do, not to say you love your job, but it’s your life. Yet who’s to say there aren't poor souls sentenced to the wrong level? Genuine and kind, noble and passionate—people who don't deserve eternal damnation.

The possibility of your victims being innocent and undeserving makes you want to hurl, tortured shrieks and endless tears flashing across your memory and echoing in your ears. Your stomach clenches just thinking about it.

"(Your Name), I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Zagreus starts, mouth opening and closing like he can't find the words, his breaths coming quick and ragged. He just stares at you, eyes gleaming with an emotion you can't quite place—as if your virtuous act breaks his heart, crushes his soul. Then he blinks, and it's gone, shaking his stupor. “This is my fault…”

You raise an eyebrow, “How is this your fault?”

“I… I just… you shouldn’t have…” You frown as Zagreus struggles, brow furrowed, clearly pained as he thinks over his answer, like whatever he says next determines your fates. Seeming to think better of it, he shakes his head and brings your hand to his lips, and you flush, your heart skipping as his lips graze over the bandages, warmth seeping through the material and into your wounds like a healing salve. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” He rasps between each kiss, trailing up the back of your hand and up your forearm, like they’ll heal the wounds faster. Like this is the best he can do, like this is all he can do. Not that you plan to stop him.

Your face burns, but you let him apologize, though you’re not sure what for as he stops before your shoulder. At some point, he slotted himself between your thighs, and now face to face, he studies your cuts and bruises, already fading away as his eyes, soft and glistening, flick over your features. Like he’s debating if his kisses will help them heal faster too.

Gods, if he brings those lips anywhere near your face, you might combust.

You meet his gaze, “What—”

“I lied.”

It comes as a whisper, his voice dry and low that you tilt your head, urging him to continue.

“I’m not some mortal soul, dredging their way through Tartarus,” Zagreus grinds out, scanning your face as if committing you to memory one last time. Then he sits back and stares at the floor, still gripping your hand as he rubs circles over the bandage. “I mean, it’s true I intend to escape the Underworld.”

“Zagreus—”

“And yes, I’m searching for my mother—”

“Zag—”

“But I’m really—”

“My prince.”

He flinches, his eyes shooting up to meet yours. “What?”

“None of this is your fault, my prince. With or without your influence, I’d have done the same thing anyway.” He gapes at you and you smirk, using the little strength you’ve recovered to squeeze his hand reassuringly, “Or would you rather I address you as Your Highness instead?”

Zagreus shakes his head, black hair flopping out of his shocked face. “I don’t understand. You knew?”

“For a bit now, yes,” You shrug as you turn his hand over, large and calloused in yours, swiping a thumb over one of his healed blisters, probably from gripping his weapons. “Took me a while to figure it out, but I can’t say I was surprised. It explained some of your funny behavior.”

He scoffs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, “What sort of funny behavior?”

“Pretend all you like, but you can’t suppress those noble habits,” You chuckle, eyes crinkling seeing him cheer up. “All your mannerisms screamed ‘royal’, I just didn’t realize we were talking Underworld royalty.”

“Seriously?” Zagreus gazes at you in disbelief. “I thought I did a pretty good job acting—”

“Like a commoner?”

“Like a mortal,” He shoots you a pointed look, and you snort, relaxing into the love seat.

“You were okay.” You purse your lips, “While we’re on the subject of identity reveals, you should know I’m—”

“A succubus?”

You blink before pouting, snatching your hand away to cross your arms over your chest. “You only say that because I was about to tell you…”

“Not true,” Zagreus grins, leaning over to give your thigh an affectionate squeeze. “I knew from the beginning. Succubi magic doesn't affect gods, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel it.”

“And you still stayed? Knowing what I am and what I do?”

“And you still treated me as any other friend, knowing who I am?”

“That’s not the same, and you know it.”

“I disagree,” He coaxes your hands into his, prompting you to meet his gaze as his expression shifts into something more earnest. “We both tried—and failed miserably—to hide a huge part of ourselves in fear of what we’d think of each other, am I wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Exactly. (Your Name), I hope you know not once did I think any less of you for your work, much less your species.”

You respond in kind, “And not once did I consider bowing down to the Prince of the Underworld, especially not after seeing him stuff his face with wraps he picked off the ground.”

He guffaws. “Good, then we’re in agreement?”

“I guess...”

“Just what every man wants to hear from a beautiful creature.” Ignoring the burn in your cheeks, you roll your eyes, and he adds, “But we’re okay? You won’t avoid me anymore?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Keep that up, you won’t be seeing me for another couple runs.”

“I was agreeing with you!”

“Your tone said otherwise.”

By the time your shared laughter dies down, the atmosphere clears, leaving a comfortable silence settling in the small space between you. In that time, he’s yet to let go of your hands, your thighs brushing as he rubs soothing circles against your hands, and while he insists on staying until he’s sure you’re better, acceptance rushes over you like the oncoming tide, because try as you might, Alecto’s punishment was nothing in comparison to Zagreus’s absence. These fleeting moments he stops by your chamber, whether to recover, commission a painting, or to simply have a chat, you appreciate each and every one of them. If that’s all you’ll ever have with Zagreus, you decide, your chest tight with a melancholic warmth, then that's okay.

This is enough.

—

Soon after Zagreus reluctantly leaves you once more, he enters the last chamber of Tartarus.

“Redblood! What say you—ack—hey, I wasn’t done talking!”

If he prolongs their time together, allowing him to indulge his cruelty, then consider it time well spent.

—

AN: One of my biggest peeves in media tropes is the betrayal and angst as a reaction from hiding identities from s/o, like in superhero media. It's overplayed, overdone.

A good, recent example of this is the new animated Superman show, My Adventures with Superman, where (SPOILERS) Lois forces the truth out of Clark, and is pissed when he confirms he is Superman. Bro, you literally said to his face how you'd reveal his identity to the public, can you blame the guy? Idgaf you think he's lying ab his feelings omfg he's protecting his idenity (its a good show tho pls watch it!!)

However, a cartoon that does the scenario right is in the old Nickelodeon cartoon, Danny Phantom (some of yall may be too young to remember), the older sister, Jaz, of the mc, Danny, quietly realizes he's the superhero of their town, and decides to patiently wait for him to tell her when HE'S READY. Like askjgdaksjhf yassss we love patience and understanding.

Which is why I like to imagine while Zag didn't outright tell you who he is, he didn't try to hide it either. The underworld's a big ass place, he's got no control over who and what ppl say and do, so however you find out, whether in passing or of your own sleuthing skills, you both wait.

Ty for coming to my ted talk :D

[marzipanandminutiae]

"Marzi, what actually IS Enchanted Doll, though?"

for me, it's this little fake person who lives in my house:

this is Maryse. everybody say "hi, Maryse!" she was made some time in the early-mid 2010s as part of a limited blank, nude resin BJD line sculpted by artist Marina Bychkova (her face was most recently painted by the incredible Cat, "maybeawerewolf" on IG)

but Maryse has. much more famous porcelain sisters. and they look like this:

any gems or precious metals you see up there are real. for reference. this woman is not just a doll artist, but a seamstress and jeweler Par Excellence in the bargain

costumed porcelain Enchanted Dolls are the shining stars of the art doll world: dazzling and unreachable for all but a lucky (and usually deep-pocketed) few. the blank resin ones are rare enough to find secondhand- they're not being made anymore -but the porcelain are like..."if I marry a multimillionaire, may she propose to me with a porcelain Enchanted Doll holding a ring from a crackerjack box" status

the eye candy is real

[oobbbear]

Is OK ALSO a doll or just a person? And can we make Ocs (either dolls or people) for this AU? Can dolls also be people too? And is there like, a species template for the people of this world?

OK is just a person! That’s why I made the human version of her to differentiate her from the rest of the cast✨

Yes of course please feel free to make OCs for this story, dolls can be humanoid or anything you heart desires, there’s literally no limit to their design other than they are made with manmade material and powered by a soul gem

There’s no species template but I have a list of doll type you can take inspiration from

There’s of course a lot more doll type than this it’s just what I can think of at the moment

[bjds--fantasy]

Gem of Doll Lotte. Limited 20 cm BJD

[dolliewlw]

୨୧ my name is doll or ems (she/her)

୨୧ nineteen

୨୧ aqua 𖤓, gem ☾, cap ↑

୨୧ just a stupid loser lesbian ♡

୨୧ single, 5'8, switch(sub+), fat femme, femme4all but an extra soft spot for butches

୨୧ some kinks i love: voyeurism, threesome, praise, exhibitionism, public, thigh riding, vaginal spanking, teasing, breeding, tit fucking, squirting, tit play, marking, degrading

୨୧ limits: scat, gore, ageplay, raceplay, piss, incest, feet, noncon

୨୧ messages are open and flirting is okay! please don’t open dms being VERY sexual as i’m autistic and sometimes it can be very overwhelming. just please be over 18+!! i’m okay with asks being sexual, actually, i encourage it.

୨୧calling me pet names is okay and encouraged!

୨୧send me anonymous drawings or check out more info on me!

˚.🎀༘⋆ send me asks! must be 18+ women lovers NO MEN!! ˚.🎀༘⋆

dividers from @/crylynn

[thecursedprince]

Disney Enchanted Elegance Collection Ariel Doll

$75.00

Launches August 7, 2024 9am PT

Ready to make fashion waves, Ariel dives into the world of haute couture in our Enchanted Elegance Collection. Inspired by Disney’s The Little Mermaid, our premium doll shimmers in a sequin dress and taffeta skirt. Her pleated organza bodice perfectly matches the purple underskirt, and her long red hair is swept to one side in a glamorous flowing style. Our Ariel doll will add a splash of sophistication to any display.

Disney Collector Enchanted Elegance Collection™ Ariel Doll  

12.0 inches tall (30.48 cm) 

New body and head sculpt and rooted eyelashes 

Nine points of articulation for posing and display options 

Includes golden headpiece, shell earrings, wrap bracelet, and sling-back heels with gem details 

Premium packaging with a variety of seaweed designs 

Comes with Certificate of Authenticity 

Doll cannot stand alone. Doll stand included. Colors and decorations may vary. Purchase limits subject to change at the sole discretion of Mattel. 

©2024 Mattel 

©Disney

SKU#: HYB18

[meli-writes]

Little Miss Laser - Ch. 02

(Previous)

/// CW: hostage scene w/ electroplay, explicit BDSM scene (light restraints, oral), transphobia/transmisogyny and discussions of it, mentions of racism & sexual assault. ///

Laser was the only thing that mattered, and Glass could only look; at how tired she was, at the uniform-standard makeup twirling down her cheeks, and the curls frizzing from the unceasing, infuriating clawing of Biker Hood, all while she waited again for— Tzzt.

The Little Miss wretched involuntary against her, filling Glass’ ears with a gently nauseous squeal before she was let collapse, the collar clicking with a sickly note of satisfaction.

“Aww— don’t wanna play today?” Hood cooed, prerecorded; should would only dare be so arrogant hiding behind the poorly-compressed ransom note. “Maybe she’ll learn to like it.”

“She’s gettin’ it every 30 seconds till you’ve paid up.”

How many times had she felt it? Thousands— Laser hadn’t picked up in days. Thousands more. Glass was gonna murder Biker Hood, maybe it would even be legal, turn her hands to ice and choke her on a cocktail chilled with her own fingers, snapped off one-by-one.

“Also— if you’re planning on the Lil’ Miss lasering her way out, on leaving her here—”

The words wound themselves around Glass’ neck, as though it were the electroplated chain in Hood’s grasp, who knew exactly what little to expect of a Little Miss. If she’d only fallen harder for the copper crap, Glass thought, as Laser was pulled off the raw concrete floor.

“—we’ve got a demonstration for you. Come on, Doll, I know you like showing off for me.”

Magenta-muddied eyes reflected on the glassy helm that covered Hood’s face. Trembling lips begged to ask for anything else. Tzzt. “Please, I-I can’t do this again,” she whined.

“Don’t I recall you saying you wanted to be a good girl, for me?” Hood said, squatting down and slipping a leathered finger under her chin. “We can do this, or we’ll just have to up that Doll-Resonant Auto-Shocker to every 15 seconds. How long till your friends even see this?”

It was bitter. Friends.

What did she tell you, Hood? Maybe she just knew Laser better than the rest of them, even Glass. Maybe that’s how she caught her. Why would you even care?

There was a single tear falling to Laser’s heart, where shimmers coiled around the gem buried in her sternum, rainbows flooding her palms before the collar clicked—

TZZZT.

Laser was left so breathless, she didn’t even scream. “I worked out the frequency of those little government space-rocks,” Hood said, punchably smug. “It’s why you’ve stopped being able to track her, and why the more she tries, the worse it hurts — no limits.”

The collar was scaling with her, Glass surmised, and it would only stop if it — Tzzt — or Laser broke. Hood could never know how strong Laser really was, she wouldn’t have had the limbs, or atoms, to make her ransom flick otherwise.

How many times had Laser felt that? Glass knew, she’d be terrified of the team seeing this, seeing her like this. It must’ve already punished her— over— and over— and over again.

Hood took her again, roughly, at the chin; Laser melted into its cruel comfort, barely able to hold herself up anymore. The lower segment of Hood’s helmet detached, revealing lips painted in lincoln green, that sowed a kiss on Laser’s own with sensuous possessivity.

She owned Laser in that moment, who Glass had almost thought was blushing, before she buckled, sobbing, and was turned like a mannequin — like she wouldn’t soon slice Hood’s head into messy subdivisions, with Glass pouring in a few icicles after for good measure.

“So — America’s Sweethearts — you’ve got three days. You transfer to the specified accounts and you’ll find out where she is after it’s untraceable,” Hood said.

“I spot anyone looking—” Tzzt. “—and maybe you’ll never see her again.”

---

Little Miss Inferno flicked it off, pivoting around the penthouse boardroom, an audible bristle in her aramid-woven bodysuit. “Six— Million— Dollars,” she breathed, huskily.

“Okay, so— don’t pay it? We don’t lose like a million bucks, and if Hood finishes them off it’s one less problem. Besides, they could totally laser out — if they wanted to,” Tremor said, her oversized, ironclad boots still pitiful compared to the pentagonal desk that stole the room.

“Babe, please— as if we need the bitch overcharging again. You remember we’re in the city; won’t be useless mountains this time, it’ll be us,” Cyclone said, stroking at her wind-proof blonde bun, before clattering the same tightly-trimmed nails on luxury wood. “We don’t even know what this Biker Hood — god, I can’t say it — will even do if we refuse. I say we make the video public, then the Department has to step in to clean up and—”

“This is not a negotiation.” At least Fern had some sense, the least-worst leader after Glass was ruled out as a supposed bad culture fit. “It’s more profitable if we suck it up, take the insurance, and stop Laser from damaging our image any more than they already have.”

Scheming bitch. If the ransom was in cash I’d shove every last rolled wad up your—

“And what am I supposed to do when this third-rate dipshit turns up with six-mill in that resonance tech; bury her in downtown?” Tremor spat, knowing full-well she could handle it.

Glass’ water had turned solid in her hand — and she shattered it, crystal decanter and all, into pieces. No one would give her notice if didn’t she stand out, leaned into it even, with the snow-white hair — but anything else, that which could be considered ‘culturally specific,’ had to be American, and she was thoroughly aware they would never consider her that.

“We’re paying the ransom— and getting her— out of there,” she howled, a blizzard beating at unbattened hatches. “The hell is wrong with you, all of you. We pay it for her sake, for how much it would hurt her if this got out. Should never let any of you attend Pride ever again.”

Cyclone immediately whipped up a double-down, grasping at Tremor’s hand, “Excuse me? We’re— They’re not one of us, remember? They’re only here because the gem is stuck—”

Tremor, for her sake, at least looked at Glass with some guilt — gold star for effort — a degree she was definitely annoyed for feeling, “It's just a joke, I wasn’t really suggesting—”

Fern dove a knuckled fist into the table, burning a fire-break into their squabbling.

“Trem, check storage. Laser’s duty uniform hasn’t been checked out in three weeks, so either Hood made a very convincing fake or someone’s bypassed our security— oh don’t give me that look, this is the easy job,” she said. “Cyk, I need you on the flight deck. If there’s an incident I need you to contain it before press gets there.”

Cyclone squinted at Glass through amber-tinted goggles. Tremor didn’t even look.

“Now go, both of you.”

Their hands began to unwillfully untwine, and once they’d pouted off in different directions Fern looked right at Glass, “I do what’s right for the team — not any one of us.”

“Yeah— cos what’s right for the team is keeping in-check the murderous little sunbeam you need for cover-up work, right?” Glass shot back.

Fern was an obedient, government girl; she knew when to hold her tongue, and Glass knew this was the actual reason. Laser wouldn't be so useful if every villain ran at the sight of her; if every civilian started getting in the way, hoping to film something bloody and mistaken.

“Glacier— Do whatever the hell you want. I don’t care. I’ll arrange the damn payment.”

Fern picked up the hotline receiver, the incumbent Secretary of Supers leering down from his gaudily-framed, overbearing portrait. She paused, inputting the code for someone low-down and easy-to-silence, before side-eyeing Glass.

“Why did she even send it to you?” Fern asked, waiting on either response.

“Because I was calling Laser to check-in on her, Fern. People do that, you know — make sure their friends are okay,” she said, before Fern turned, wincing into the receiver.

She had been as clear as spring water. You don’t have friends, Fern. Not here, not in me, not anymore. But Laser is my friend, and I’ll do everything it takes to get her back. Her prints turned to ice as she left, crunching deeper as she thought about how tired Laser must be.

Oh, habibti— how did you get yourself into this mess?

---

“AHHHhhh— Eek! Hood, p-please— I can’t take it anymore.”

Thwack.

“That’s Ms Hood to you— Little Miss,” Milly drawled.

She was distant lightning on her Doll’s thigh — its flash and its thunder, but gentle, with none of its sting. Laser trembled in her bindings; cold-steel police cuffs, borrowed, leashed to a bed-frame squeaking more than she did. The smallest bite to pair with her pleasure.

“Does that mean you’re ready to yield now, Doll?”

Her lips had loosened for only a moment and already Laser was canting an oil-slickened clit back into her, cat-lapping — needily so — at the blood-red furls of its underside, her tongue curling around its half-throbbed head before pulling her back in.

Oh— God, Babe, of course we can call it that! That’d never be too much to ask; your body, your clit.

“Ahh— Never!” she pleaded, in an overacted, pitched-up soprano, “I’ll never yield to your villainous scheme.” It was new, at least, to Milly — turned her into a puppy, squeak-toy in slobbering jaws, pressed with a primordial urge to tear the screeching bunny to shreds.

Milly was stripping off well-stained leather, pouring herself then into Laser’s generous folds, fingers slipping into the softened haunches at her ass, which the slutty, knock-off uniform had temptuously struggled to cover. She wrenched Laser — squirming in desperation as her faux-captor’s cheeks popped with spittle, and precum — back into the straddle, plush thighs sitting nervously at the sides of Milly’s upturned face, curt and bleached blonde hair pooling around her; never once letting go, with suckling mouth or strapping grasp.

“Aww— will you really?” Milly teased, “You’ve been holding on for hours now, and it’s still just you— and me.” She had seen Laser be properly hard once, before bursting into tears. So, instead, Milly made sure to torment her with a thorough and deliberate delicateness.

“Your so-called friends really take their time when it comes to rescuing you.”

The barb was accompanied with a tremulous semi-retreat, pulling back to Laser’s head and letting the little limpness slack in the air, before sucking even tighter, tongue against its tip.

“Oh— Fuck,” Laser said, stomach collapsing into itself, “Fuck. Fuck-fuck-fuck— FUCK.”

“Shh— shhh—” Milly soothed, trying to guide Laser back to her own adorable script, keeping them on track for the finale, feeling the intoxicating shiver that rocked through Laser’s thighs into the sheets. I’m gonna need to use these for pillows, but, for now— “You’re gonna have to keep it down, Doll. Or, maybe, everyone will have to find you, just— like— this.”

“No, wait I— I didn’t tell anyone I’d be here, Ms Hood.”

There was the rose-pained truth, breaking her beautifully, the shadow of a dark-hearted desire she was forced to hide — if acted, perhaps, with more ham to it than her ass.

“No one is coming to rescue me — it is just you.”

Laser was stiffening out of her comfort-zone, and Milly loosened to let their short-of-breath, mutual arousal settle. Suddenly, Laser slipped; fallen to the side and strung-up awkwardly on the leash. Milly rushed to catch her, lithe-wire arms making Laser giggle out-of-character.

She pulled her into a cradle, up, from scrunched-up pillows, and reached for the wand that waited, eager and plugged-in, on the nightstand and drew it the perfect spot — the one the pair had once spent a meticulous evening making sure Milly could find the finicky thing.

“Please, Ms Hood— please,” Laser begged, quivering an ever-worse contortionist act on her face as Milly didn’t yet switch it on. “Just— be gentle. I’ll be such a good Little Miss for you.”

Milly ran a tongue over her lips, looking far into Laser’s eyes as she pulled the Doll’s mess into her mouth. “Then yield for me, Doll,” she asked, flicking it on at last. “Maybe I’ll let you feel like this — instead of something worse.”

Goodness, Babe, how you love to pretend I would ever hurt you — that I even could.

“Y-yes, Ms Hood.”

She let Laser fall into her — brown curls unfurling in her face, shoulder brushing at her chest — taking the spare hand to hold Laser’s clit and kiss it, firmly, against the wand.

“Come on then— aren’t you gonna?”

It was notched higher, and then higher again, tussling at Laser’s compos mentis, retching her with unrestrained delight. “Please— I am, I am, I am.”

“Don’t you wanna?”

“I do, I do, I promise, I—” When the words had finally formed she couldn’t stop saying them. “Fuck I— Ms Hood. I YIELD— I yield-I-yield-I-yield-I-yield-I—”

Milly withdrew it, gently, spotting the tell-tale sign, the emotional fever-pitch that Laser so thoroughly thrived over, as she whined one final, delirious request— “Just don’t hurt me.”

“Deal.”

She rolled forward, drove herself onto Laser’s clit, bobbing back-and-forth as she continued to stare into her, making sure Laser knew— This toy belongs to me. And with one last squeak— she came, bucking into Milly and knocking her back with a hushed choke.

So Milly braced on the velvet throw, shaking her head for morsels of dignity as spit-watered cum dripped down the corner of her mouth, catching herself as she rubbed it with an open palm and taking a teardrop on her pinkie-tip; she brought it, chin-tilted, to a concavely curved tongue and waited a pensive and heavily-breathed moment before she tasted it.

This is so bad, Doll. You’re lucky you make me wanna make it look delicious.

“Such a fool,” she mocked. “Enjoy this— it’s the only mercy you’ll know, now that you’re mine. Wonder what I should call you? Little Miss Laser is far too decent for a thing like you.”

“Oh— anything, Ms Hood. I’ll be anything you want; anything for your mercy.”

“Hmm. How about, Little Miss—” Keugh. Heugh. Milly had missed a bit in the back of her throat, and now her oesophagus was furiously rejecting its entry. “Ahh. Fuck. Laz?”

“Yeah, Hood?”

“Ouch.” Milly knocked at her chest— Thump. Thump. “What— was my line? I forgot,” she asked, twisting a neatly-split brow more than sheepishly.

“Oh— um. Little Miss— well. Ahhh.” Laser was blushing at her own naughtiness, pressing cheek into shoulder. Seeing her instinctive attempt to hide was making Milly blush all on her ownsome. “I’m getting out of it now, so I think saying it’s gonna feel so silly.”

There was no way for her to do it, arms pulled above well-squeezed, widely-set tits — those Milly had figured out she preferred push-ups to manage, when she wasn’t having to hide the ever-present purple glow that spilled out her sternum — and legs spread by Milly’s own muscled presence. It just brought even more attention to her self-mortifying predicament.

“Shit, sorry Babe,” Milly said.

“Nah— it’s okay, there’s always—”

---

Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt.

Laser’s phone was ringing— again. Milly was surprised to see something so plain from her, still bracing for a poorly-ripped version of the theme from the Department-funded show, Lil’ Misses Save America. But maybe that risked getting her clocked, if it blasted off in public.

“Heya! AHh— Ahk,” she sputtered, voice broken into clattered splinters as she tried to answer, pitching herself back to a relaxed, private tone. “Oh-my-gosh. I’m so sorry, Glass.”

Milly had been presaged, though it was always pleasant, into baby-sitting her niece when she’d figured it out. Hey, Babe— why does your submissive voice sound like your cartoon?

“How you doin’ Chilly?”

That TV found itself immediately unplugged, with Milly left a muttering mess to the overly sharp, superheroine-obsessed 8-year-old — working overtime to keep her satisfied.

She was, at least, well-armed; an entire, accessory-packed doll set, that her niece knew was precious, smart enough to know it wasn’t released yet, hushed-up on Milly’s less-than-legal secrets, and to never believe it was a real Little Miss who’d procured it for her.

“Oh— yeah, I’m good. Just allergies — I’m at the shelter right now.”

It was an idealised version of herself, maybe that’s why Laser liked it so much. It was never going to slip — like she needed to; it was always going to fit in — like she didn’t. She was the one who cared about the contractually-obligated consulting; script feedback, coaching the actresses, hiding the truth. Five times the amount, in-fact, to cover for all the rest of them.

“What d’ya mean you’re not tracking it?” Laser pulled a worried brow at Milly, hastened her to spoof Laser’s signal for Glass to see. “Yeah, I promise. I’ll get it looked at soon.”

Maybe she needed the reminder, who Little Miss Laser could be — who she could be. That she was only able to pretend to be with Milly, who Laser made sure knew she was helping. It was sweet, but still weird. And somehow, hopefully, it was reconciled with all the rest of her.

“Hey, Glass— Can I call you later? I’m kinda, uhm— with a girl.”

Milly had cried when Laser unwrapped the boxed dolls, telling her seventeen times she didn’t have to. She wasn’t even her niece’s favourite Lil’ Miss. And it didn’t matter at all.

“Thanks Chilly. Love you— bye!” Laser sighed with relief. She did love that girl, but not when she was trying to have fun. “Where were we?”

Maybe it was the weirdness that made it so sweet.

---

Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt.

Laser had twisted the leash around her, checking on the nightstand, giving the rumbling phone a painful wince before Milly could clamber up to liberate the exhausted captive.

“I think it’s Glass again.”

“You’re gonna have to answer at some point,” Milly said, folding the cuffs into a drawer, next to a dozen naughtier items. The signal jamming is worrying her Babe, more and more.

“Couldn’t she wait till morning?” Laser wrapped tightly around Milly, beginning to trail a finger — one of the ones she trimmed with particular, beloved ruthlessness — between her abs. “We saved the world like— three weeks ago,” she whined.

Milly hadn’t spoken and Laser cautiously tried to fill the space, “You know, cos we’re not due for another asshole like that for, like, at least another few—”

“Till morning?”

She felt Laser’s hands pulling at the trap she’d stepped into, at something she hadn’t been ready to ask in the increasing proportion of time she was spending in the hideout, especially in recent weeks. In another moment she’d retreated the rest of the way — a few filthied pillows put between them — and was squeezing her fingers as she did when really, properly, self-conscious. As though it were possible to press her own power back into herself.

Milly had to look Laser in the eyes. Didn’t.

“Hey— Milly?” asked Laser.

Milly wanted to give her space, she thought, sit there and take in her tits, respectfully, for the fortieth time today. Didn’t realise she’d turned away, groping tremors into the velvet.

Oh— Fuck. She knows my name. I never told her—

---

“So how come she’s still calling you Hood,” Bri asked. “That part of the game?” nodding to the hunch-backed bundle of blankets on Milly’s couch — she was always getting cold in the warehouse, unhelped by how little she wore — watching her own cartoon and taking notes.

“I haven’t uh— told her my name yet,” Milly said, keeping her voice low, “Besides, she must’ve heard it by now. Maybe it’s just part of her game — like you said.”

Bri looked at her with a consternation packed neatly into four, internationally-bound suitcases; the job had gone adequately and she was not interested in acclimatising to this while she waited for the heat to die down. Though, maybe she was still going to entertain it.

“Hey, Little Miss — what do I call you again?”

Milly spotted the smirk passing over Bri’s mouth, a vicious composure slipping just a little. Nothing she was up to could be good — but Laser was already bounding over, bright-eyed.

“Laser’s still totally good. You can say Laz! If you’d like to.” She was being very sweet to Bri, apparently having misidentified her as Milly’s equivalent to Glass, and trying to make a good impression on her behalf. “There is Alex — but it’s not what I would’ve picked.”

And now Milly was getting straight eyeballed, redder than sunburn. See— She knows how to be honest. Bri rolled her head around and prompted Laser further, “Didn’t you choose that?”

“Naw— it’s what Mom picked.”

“Cos see she wanted something neutral; she was that sorta hippie,” Laser elaborated, sitting up and munching eagerly on a clutch of grapes, “And when ol’ Uncle Sam finally found us, changing it was a rather affirmative No. Easier to scrub me with less trailing papers, so it’d be harder for people to figure out one of America’s Sweethearts is a tranny. You know, for whenever some queen like Manning leaks the Department’s dirty laundry.”

“Weird priorities, I know,” she grimaced. "At least they added ma'am when they said it."

Milly was wondering if she should interject, not to stop her — though maybe she was too honest, Bri would be thinking so — but to make sure Laser knew she was listening too, “Shit. I’m sorry Babe. Can I ask what you wanted to pick?”

“Francesca,” she squeaked, a little tender, “Which— Fran. I know it’s kinda dumpy.”

“It’s cute, and it suits you.” Milly paused, watching for how Laser would respond, if she’d ask what Milly hoped she would, “I could call you that, if you’d like?”

“Nah,” she said, “Nah, I like Laser. I like Laz.”

Her smile slid, bittersweet, to the side. “Maybe someday, when we’re— past this. But right now? It’s what you call me, and it’s what Glass calls me. And I like it for that.”

Bri pushed her noisy, overheating laptop aside and reached across to rub Laser’s cheek. “Thanks Laser, that will be all.” It was a feigned comfort, surely, but Laser didn’t need to know that, Bri would be gone soon anyway.

“Oke doke!” she beamed, in moments having bundled herself back on the couch, the familiar SFX imitation of her blasts emanating from the front-desk TV Milly had taken with her on the last job.

Bri thumbed through another stack of stolen post-it notes; reams of passwords, emails, and security question answers. She was looking for whatever let her into another one of the hedge-fund fuckboy’s offshore accounts, but was stuck with half as much material as hoped.

It coulda been so much more, Milly — if your head was in the game and not between her—

Biker Hood hadn’t enough tricks prepared to keep the reception-level distraction going long enough, and fewer marks to work with meant drawing more from each one. After she’d moved the first few million they’d noticed, and were able to cut her off sooner each time.

“See Milly— She knows how to trust you.”

You.

Bri was making some kind of punishment from this — not out of malice, just boredom. There was going to be a lesson too, there always was. Bri did want her to be okay when she was gone. The plan was already booked. Not friends, but still peers.

The lesson hurt worse than the punishment.

“And whether she knows it or not, your name — has it in some crime computer, if she’s found your paper-thin shell company — until you tell her yourself, she’s gonna know you don’t trust her back.”

“Hey— Milly. Can I—” She almost didn’t say it. “—Can I stay over tonight?”

---

        I want her to — but if I’m not able to tell her—

        “No?”

“Oh.”

        Oh?

“Sorry.”

        Fuck.

“I-I know it was, like, a big ask,” Laser muttered. “I’ll go get sorted.”

“Ahh,” Milly choked, “Wait!” She rushed a pair of gym-addicted forearms around Laser’s mid, pulling at sweat-soaked rolls till Laser fell back into her. “You can stay—”

“I want you to stay.”

The startled Lil’ Miss dropped to Milly’s side; she grasped at her loosened bearings and brought a hand to intertwine with the one pulled around her shoulder. “But you—”

“I was scared,” Milly said, her breath shattered into broken chain-links, nesting her head on Laser’s shoulder so she could press a blooming cheek into her thick, fluffed-up curls. “Just— a little. I sort of wanted to make sure that I could say it: No.”

“Oh. Yeah— Of course, I’m—”

“Please don’t say sorry,” Milly begged. Laser said it too much, and Milly wished she could dare to ask: is it because you mean it, or that you think you deserve less? “Please.”

Milly squeezed her harder, terrified the precious thing could vanish if she ever let go, and whimpered, “It’s all me; me and the dumb, intrusive thoughts I shouldn’t have said. Okay?”

She’s gonna know you don’t trust her back.

“I didn’t realise that you knew— well, me. Millicent. Milly. Mill,” she continued. “And I sort of freaked. I should have told you.”

Laser rolled into her and clutched at the accidentally shattered handhold when Milly dared not do it herself. “Why’re you scared, Milly? I know I’m— I know how to control myself. I wouldn’t even dare to think about hurting you.”

Milly forced herself to look at Laser, pulling the buckles of a spiritual armbinder several sizes too small till it pulled into place. “I’m not used to not being in control,” she admitted. There was an awful look in her eyes, in the girl who should never have to feel guilty for this.

She won’t trust me if I can’t tell her — maybe even if I do.

“Because— I could kill you?” Laser said. There was no emotion to infer out of her, the realisation of that causing Milly to wince. The girl who could never stop smiling, till Milly made her. “That I could level the building too, while I’m at it. Hell— the entire block.”

An entire— Fuck, Doll.

Milly needed to let her prosecco-and-orgasm-addled brain process it all, what Laser had just said, arid as the high noon on a gentle, long-forgotten, childhood summer’s day.

“And that’s what everyone else is thinking!” Milly exclaimed. “They’re treating you like this bomb that’s a loose or crossed wire from exploding and— Fuck, it hurts to realise I’ve thought of you like that too. I never used to.”

“No. I get it,” Laser said. It still worried Milly how easily she could accept things, fuzzing the line between easy-goer and people-pleaser. “I guess I’m just used to it now.”

“And you shouldn’t be! You shouldn’t have to be used to it at all!” Milly had almost yelled it, kneading Laser’s hands with a desperate, reassuring pressure, who’d let out a cosied whine in response. “I’m sorry— Laz. I really, really am.”

And she smiled. Just the smallest amount. Yep. “You’re all good.” Please continue. “It’d take a lot to burn the goodwill you got out of kidnapping me, or trying at least,” she said, bringing herself to a giggle. Milly could feel the ropes unknotting at her heart.

“Goodwill!? Babe, what is wrong with you?” She teased, not necessarily desiring the answer.

“Hmm, so many things. So— Many— Beautiful— Things,” Laser said, lolling forward so when she did she was looking up at Milly instead of at her. “It’s nice— when you treat me like there’s nothing I could do to stop you. I don’t worry about a thing.”

“Yeah, except for: the crop, the cuffs, the wand— what colours of rope do we have now?”

“Alright, stop! Hehehe— you’re so embarrassing.” Laser knocked into Milly’s chest, laughing before she leapt right back up. “Hey! You wanna know what the other Little Misses are into?”

Milly pinched at the fat on Laser’s neck, “Let me guess — Glacier’s super into iceplay?”

“Too obvious. Well— yes, but only if she’s domming,” Laser mused, an endearing literalist at times. Milly did not actually need to know even more compromising exposés on the most dangerous girls in the whole world. “Usually the preference is wax.”

Laser twitched suddenly, and her brow curled as she mulled how to admit whatever would come next. “We’ve never had anything, to be clear,” she said. “I used to think I’d actually end up with her. But that’s not Glass — she just wants to be like really good friends. It’s the same with everyone. Kink is more like a hobby she chats with me about. I keep my stuff—”

Our stuff. “—Private. Speaking of which—”

Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt. Brrrrrrt.

She scooped the phone and mashed Busy with a tizzied hush. I didn’t mean you. She sighed and swallowed, asking, “Milly— could you get the cuffs out?”

“There’s something I wanna tell you.”

---

Laser kicked at the messed-up duvet till it cradled her unpetite feet. Not askin’ how you got this haul, Hood — but every pretty shoe stops several sizes below me. She was chilling in the warehouse air, faded was the stuffiness begotten from sexed-up biker breath circling about her chest, laying a head on Milly and peering over her neat bust to find some other kind of warmth in her eyes. “Remember when the Lil’ Misses and I were fighting this dude a few weeks back, like— God, Scaremungus-What,” she asked.

“I mean, I’ve met the guy— once, at this mixer,” Milly replied. “He’s got that—”

“Jock. Strap. And it’s shaped like— Yeah, him,” Laser confirmed, the small, golden chain linking her cuffs twinkling as she fumbled at the well-stretched neckline of her costume.

“Hey!” she realised, “Weren’t you doin’ one of those saving-the-world sortsa missions a few weeks back?” You’re not telling me that— he’s even more laughable than me, Babe.

“Mill. Chill. I’m getting there,” snipped Laser, with a chuckle. “So— we’re in this abandoned mineshaft and we’re not supposed to, like, kill him because there’s this low-key nuclear device in the adjacent town with his name on it no one can get close to and, like, it’s putting Tremor out of commission cos there’s no cave-collapsing allowed. Sorry— anyway, I get cut off and he starts uh— coming on to me with, like, the exact pun you’re thinking of, and then he started, like, grabbing himself and—”

She paused, for a moment, Milly drawing in her knees to tip Laser closer as an aching breeze of frustration passed her lips. “I never realised how close he’d gotten and— he grabbed me, and he knew what I was and when he said that—” Laser stopped, head lurching into her chest with only a whimper escaping.

“Mill, you’re the first to ever— express interest in me; like, the real thing,“ she said, the words coming slow and practised. “I know what exists on the internet, the Rule 34 and worse, but— you wanted the actual Laser. Laz. Alex. Francesca. Whoever. Whenever I’ve spoken to people before it’s like they only want the Laser on TV. The doll that comes in plastic packaging—”

“—the one they can throw away, when it isn’t fun anymore.”

“Should I stop calling you Doll?” Milly asked in a quiet and guilt-ridden whisper.

“I don’t know?” Laser replied. “It’s me who puts myself up to it. I tried to be that for you, hid myself, before I realised I could—” She pivoted without a lost beat, “Well— you know that random earthquake in West Virginia? This Appalachian mountain that just fell into itself?"

A few weeks ago. West Virginia. An entire block. “Oh— God— Laz?”

“Yep. Lasered him — and something like half-a-kilometer past him.” Laser was looking past Milly, peering into the peerlessly black tunnel she’d carved again in her imagination. “Fuck, it was bad. It was so bad. And it could have been so much worse.”

“You stood up for yourself,” Milly said — firmer, like she was almost domming again.

“I’ve told you I’m stronger but— Milly, I could pair down the power of the sun till it gives you a tan. That’s what I do every time. Stopped his bomb by putting my finger in a vice — cut a fifty-micron hole into its microcontroller. But if someone just— ticks me off, in the wrong way, at the wrong time. I could hurt so many people.”

Babe. It’s not your fault. It’s because he—

“I’ve thought about it and— I think I could do it, laser to the core, if I managed to get upset enough.” Laser breathed, allowing the gem to pulse in time with her, letting it shimmer through to all her extremities; Milly had to think better of the flittering urge to pinch at her luminous, pink-tipped tits. “That’s the reason I’m a Little Miss. The real one. Not cos I’m secretly as good as them, but because I’m more. West-Coast girl goes rogue, heel-turns into a parody, and she’s under house arrest, but if something went wrong with me? Snipers and drone-strikes. It’d need all of them to take me down — and they’d have to get lucky.”

Milly wished she knew how she was supposed to comfort her. She couldn’t just listen, she thought, it wasn’t enough. Laser deserved better, she—

“I don’t deserve you,” she plead — regretting the words as she said them, seeing it cut deeper, uncauterised, into Milly with each one, and cried, “I— Milly I’m—”

“Don’t apologise,” Milly caught. “It isn’t a question of deserving it — you’re allowed to have me. I know I was— particular, in what I said, what I called you, but even from where we started I could never have wanted you if you weren’t always there. That courage that glimmers through you, in a world I knew would hate you for it, if they did too.”

She hoped it was right, that she understood — because she was scared she never would, no matter what book she read, what video Laser linked, how much she tried to listen.

“Don’t call me brave,” Laser told her, rubbing at her tears with bound-up hands.

“Laz. I’m not. I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t want to be,” Laser cried, her head buried then into Milly’s chest. “I want to be scared, and vulnerable. I don’t want to answer Glass’ calls. I can’t go back to HQ, it’s why I’ve been here more and more and more. I want to be safe and to know you’ll keep me so.”

        “Always. I promise.”

“But you’re—”

        “What, Babe, what is it?”

“No— I’m sorry, Mill I—”

        “Please, tell me.”

“You know, how you said, you don’t feel like you’re in control?” Milly nodded in quick, subtle dips — furrowing her forehead in muscle-ached sympathy. “You’re cis, Mill.”

“There’s part of me that thinks — no, knows — you’re better than me,” she continued. “You want me, my body, and it’s— intoxicating, the affirmation of it. It’s like I’m not pretending I’m worth more than I am, or that I have to make up for that — to give, and never take. I’m not telling you I’m sorry every time I’m not perfect, I’m not worried each mistake will be my last. Except— now— I’ve just fucking vindicated all their worst beliefs about me.”

“Everyone else has stood aside, when you needed them most.”

“Yeah,” Laser muttered, weighed down by the people she could never tell this to, should never have to, in the first place. “Glass— there’s Glass. It’s not the same, but when she doesn’t understand me she still trusts in me. You trust.”

No. I— Stop. You have to say it.

“Babe I— I shut up. I listen. I’m not sure I could ever understand it all, and it hurts. It never feels like it’s enough,” Milly said, her own tears falling into Laser’s hair.

“It is,” Laser replied, muffled as she clambered till her lips met Milly’s cheek, and kissed her in the softest way she ever had. “You are too. And you do understand now, right — why I’m a freak? Power didn’t give me control, it stole the little I even had. If someone could slap some device that nulled me, held me hostage while Fern gave third-degree burns to any villain-fixer she could get her hands on. Well— I don’t know—

Did you finish it — the collar?”

“I did — after the kidnapping attempt,” Milly said. It was a penance, really. Assembled and disassembled and assembled again. She was reminding herself what would’ve happened if she’d used it. “But you know it didn’t work like that — it was a shock collar.”

“I know. It’s a— sophistication of brute force,” Laser beamed. “I wonder who that reminds me of.” Milly laughed, squeezing her tight, and kissed back at her. When you say these things, Babe. “I just keep wondering, Hey! What if it did work! Don’t have to deal with the intrusive thoughts about being pissed off enough to cause the whole-ass end of civilization.”

“I-I’m sorry I didn’t know, it’s bullshit and— Laz, how come I didn’t piss you off?”

“I mean you kinda did— once,” Laser chuckled, while Milly heatedly recalled the plasticated air and the copper droplets running into concrete pores. “Otherwise? Hot and pathetic.”

“Ah! Hahaha! Me. Babe. Pathetic.” — “Really?”

“Come on— did you never wonder,” Laser asked, “why none of my girls have dragged you off to jail yet?” Milly was attempting to command even a twitch on her face, and could only blink in stupefied shock. “Cos I specifically told them how literally not-a-threat you are to me,” she continued. “That you’re like— exercise.”

“Damn. Okay.” Milly looked off the bedside, where the batons and laminate planks slipped into the distant, uncared-for warehouse floor. “Makin’ me feel bad with that one, hehe.”

“Yeah, well— can always put that energy back into spanking me Little-Miss-Inferno Red.”

“Really are a freak, aren’t you?” Milly said, tugging at Laser’s hand. “I love you, Laz.”

“Love you too, Mill,” Laser responded, slowly. There was a small part sensing the moulding tone, but she was still stuck in an attempt to diffuse it another way. “That’s an actual, licensed colour. Emulsion paint, which was a marketing choice. Didn’t let me pick mine—”

“It does hurt though, Laz,” Milly said, nervously watching Laser swallow her info-dump and turn into her own shoulder. She made herself finish, “You don’t— take me, Hood, serious?”

There was a chopped-up groan dragging itself out of Laser’s throat, which she held onto till she couldn’t anymore, till it spilled onto the sheets. “Sorry, I do,” she said, looking back. “It’s because — when I tell them that — like, I trust you. I think I always have, kinda? Because you’re, like, a real villain, Milly! Not some up-jumped crook in a costume who’s gonna fuck up his kayfabe and pull a gun on me because it didn’t go his way.”

She stuttered out a couple laughs, before sucking them in as they collapsed into sobs.

“I knew you’d never hurt me. Not really,” Laser continued. “I got scared because I’d never thought that'd happen — never prepared for it. Cos it was my outlet — my fantasy, even. And our time had become super important to me. And, again, I know — if the collar was working, and you put it on, it wouldn't be good, not if it worked.” She crept forward, till Milly could see herself in water-stained, silver eyes. “But that, like, didn’t happen, and even if it did—”

“—I know you woulda made it right.”

The worried grimace that tore at Milly’s face slowly knitted itself into a wry smile; her shoulders wrenched back, and she yawned into the deindustrialised void and watched Laser’s gaze dancing along her pumped-up ‘ceps with a pleasing glow, before knocking her head into Laser and rubbing at her softly, skin-to-skin.

“Thank you,” she said at last — proud.

“You know, I was thinking, if it was fixed again — the collar — we could always fake it.”

And then — wheezing like a bleached, wounded wolf — she could have sworn her eyes were going to fall out of their sockets, if she’d been able to stare any wider. Laser did not notice. “It would, maybe, you know, sort of reset their expectations of me,” she added. “Make them think I’m more pathetic again, I was thinking.”

And the villain whose idea this had been in the first place still hadn’t opened her mouth, lips inflating shut as she tried not to drink in the suggestion. Bri was right, you are going to kill me. It just won't be you specifically.

Laser began to realise the ground she was treading on. It had taken months to coax Milly into a scenario like today’s. “Just cos— Glass is gonna keep calling and—”

You can’t go back in, not now. And— God— how I’d love to ruin them for that.

“How about— yeah, how about we sleep on that one, ‘kay Babe?” she then asked, rooted in the rhetorical and knowing, with a smirk — it wasn’t going to work.

---

(Masterpost)

originally written on cohost 27/03/2024, in response to Making-Up-Magical-Girls' prompt:

Magical Girl Who Just Wants To Sleep In For Once

[1mnobodywhoareyou]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love. ❤️

🥺 Thank you ❤️ Let's see if I can give myself a bit of a pick me up this morning! Good excuse to scroll through my fics and be reminded of any I've forgotten 🙈

In order of oldest to newest:

Gem in a Black Leather Jacket

this stemmed out of listening to Pansy Division with a friend and once I read/listened to the lyrics, I couldn't not. it's always fun to see what crises we can inflict on the Reggie doll.

Underneath the Undertow

my therapy baby. writing this was so healing. it's far from perfect and the flow is an absolute mess but it did what it was meant to do. and apparently some people like it which makes it that much cooler

what about love?

from my Bex verse where a teenaged Bex has a conversation about love and her experience (or lack thereof) of it with her grandads. an anti-valentine's day fic that means so much to me cuz *she* means so much to me

pretty pretty princess (Rated E)

i told myself i'd only put one of my smut fics on this list and this one is probably my favourite. i'm still really, really proud of it. it's another prompt fill that went completely sideways (i miss when i could fill those in <500 words and confidently keep them G and T rated) but hasn't been as well-received as screams. i understand why though 😅 bobby/willie/reggie isn't a particularly popular ship

bursting into life

this is my baby. the au that has completely taken over my brain and i love with all my heart. it keeps growing and growing and growing to hold more and more projection and processing while still being (i've been told) true to character. parenting and grief and self-discovery and healing and found family and ugh. everything is home here. i hope to never be done with it. and i can't believe the love it gets. honestly i could have easily answered this ask with five fics from this au alone but i limited it to the main fic and one oneshot 😅

my poor prompt fills and one shots! they get missed in these kinds of lists cuz my big fics are just... so much to me 🥺 but i really appreciated the journey through my writing, even if so many of them didn't make the cut! (i expected to struggle to find five at all so this was good for my brain. thank you <3)