#my point is i think i need to write a fic with it/its curio and they/them gale

[psychiclounge]

still thinking about that "do you feel attached to your name" poll and im realizing i feel more attached to my url than my actual name LMAO its like. full first name < jay & psychiclounge on about equal footing. in "jay psychiclounge" the url is as much (if not slightly more) of a valid name as the actual name

[zoyaofthegardvn]

would u write a oneshot(or headcanons) abt manon like punishing elide😳? its cause i read your fic jealousy jealousy (which was amazing btw) and i got curios lol. luv u🥰

Bad Kitty

A/N: I LOVE THIS IDEA! Omg Jealousy, Jealousy was def one of my favorite imagines I've written, so I'd love to explore the dynamic I set up in that a bit more! Thanks so much for the kind words and the request, anon! <3

CW: Smut! 18+ plz! The sex in this is quite rough, so be warned!

The door hasn't even finished fully slamming shut before Manon's pushing Elide up against it, her back making harsh contact with the wood.

Elide doesn't complain, though, knowing she's in deep shit already.

Manon snarls, her pointed teeth bared at her lover. "Are you fucking insane, Elide?"

Elide gives her an innocent glance, a mere shrug of her shoulders. There is no talking her way out of this one.

Manon hisses at the lack of an answer. "Flirting with that gods damned brute, right in front of me. Are you serious?"

Elide resists the urge to roll her eyes, knowing she'd just make it worse for herself. "I wasn't flirting Manon, we were just catching up."

Manon laughs, but it's dry and humorless. Her grip on Elide's arms tightens, and she brings one hand up to wrap around Elide's neck. "Don't play dumb, kitty. I'm not an idiot."

"I never said that, Man-"

"Quiet!" Manon snaps. "Lorcan, that piece of shit, comes to visit, and suddenly it's like I, your fucking girlfriend, doesn't even exist!"

Elide pouts at that, but she lets Manon continue.

"Everyone knows he had a thing for you, and he knows we're together now! He knows that! But you let him flirt with you, and y-you touched his fucking arm! And laughed at his stupid jokes! And you batted your damn eyelashes like some innocent little mortal girl!"

This time, Elide can't help but roll her eyes. Manon has always been jealous, but truthfully, Elide thinks she's overreacting. Yes, Lorcan had been flirty. And okay, maybe Elide had played into it a bit. But only because of how distant Manon gets when the Witch Lands have visitors. She's all strictly business, and Elide tends to feel a bit needy when Manon acts like they aren't dating.

"You did not just roll your eyes at me," Manon seethes, tightening her grip on Elide's throat.

Elide huffs, a bit difficult to do with Manon's hand around her neck, and she pouts her lip, knowing that always gets Manon going. "Well, I can't help it if I appreciated the attention Manon, it's like we're not even together when we have visitors. No one else acts like tha-"

"So that's what this is about?" Manon leans closer into Elide, her hot breath fanning over her face. "You're such a little fucking brat, you can't stand when my attention is off of you for a few damn hours? When we're supposed to be talking to diplomatic guests about very serious fucking topics?"

Elide goes to protest, but Manon isn't done.

"I try to be professional in front of our visitors, and you act out because you're so gods damned spoiled. I would have brought you back to our room right after, and fucked you like I know you wanted me to. But I don't think you deserve it."

Elide furrows her eyebrows. Yes, she wanted Manon to fuck her. She wanted Manon to make love to her. She wanted several orgasms tonight, and she wanted Manon to use her as she pleased for her own pleasure. Yes, Manon will certainly use her tonight, but she doubts she'll be getting any satisfaction out of it.

Manon steps away from her, releasing her hold on her throat and arm. "No, I think that tonight, you deserve to be punished. Brats need to be put in their place. Do you agree?"

When Elide doesn't answer, just stares at her with that pouty, angry look, Manon snaps at her, "I said, do you agree?"

Slowly, Elide nods. "Yes Manon, I deserve to be punished."

Manon grunts her approval, and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. "Good. Now strip, then come lay over my lap."

Elide sighs. She hadn't particularly been in the mood to be spanked, but she knows she deserves it for how she acted.

She reaches behind her back, pulling the laces of her dress until it's loose. She pulls it from her arms, and then lets it fall, pushing it over her hips until it pools at her feet. Manon's gaze is hungry as she watches Elide repeat the process to the slip she had on underneath, and Manon licks her lips when Elide's bare, realizing she hadn't been wearing any panties.

Manon reclines a bit, and raises her brow, as if daring Elide to not follow her second command.

Elide wouldn't dare. Not when her lover is this angry.

She walks forward, albeit slowly, her lower lip still in a pout. "Stop pouting, or I'll bit that lip off, so help me Elide," Manon grits out, and Elide, bless her, listens instantly.

She climbs onto Manon's lap, her ass perched over Manon's toned, leather-clad thighs. She wiggles a bit, and Manon lightly swats her ass in warning. Her head is buried in the bedsheets, until Manon grips her hair and pulls her up, just slightly.

"You're going to count each one, and thank me after. If you lose count, or you forget to say 'thank you,' I'll start over. Understand?"

Elide nods, stiff with the grip Manon has on her hair, but Manon gives a small yank and says, "Words, Elide."

"Yes, I understand."

Manon releases her hair, and she places her cheek against the bed, mouth uncovered so she can follow Manon's commands.

Manon wastes no time getting into it, pulling her hand back and releasing a harsh smack on Elide's asscheek. Elide jumps. It stings, but it's not even close to the worst spank she's received, and she knows it'll likely get worse as she goes on.

"One, thank you, Manon."

Again, Manon spanks her, on her other asscheek, this time.

"Two, thank you."

Again, another spank, harsher than the first two.

Elide grunts, but she doesn't forget her orders. "Three, thank you."

Again, and again, and again, Manon spanks her. Each one is rougher than the last, and each time, it gets harder for Elide to count and to thank her, but she manages.

Manon's hand lands on Elide's red and inflamed ass, and through the tears streaming down her cheeks, she says, "T-twenty, thank you."

Manon hums, and she gives Elide a quick break by running her hands over her cheeks, Elide wincing at the touch to her bruising skin. Manon's hand runs up her back, until she's pulling her hair away from her face.

"What's your color, kitty?"

"G-green, it's green."

"And you'll be sure to tell me if it isn't anymore?"

Elide nods her head, and thankfully, Manon doesn't reprimand her for not using her words.

"I think you can handle five more, kitty. Do you?"

Elide squeezes a few more tears out, but she's thankful it's nearly over. "Yes, I think so. T-thank you, Manon."

"Using your manners so well, good girl."

And even though she's obviously still mad at her, Elide's heart swells at Manon's brief kindness.

Before she returns to the punishment, though, Manon kneads Elide's cheeks, ignoring Elide's whine of discomfort. She pulls them apart, and then spits on Elide's tight hole, watching it drip down to her cunt. The teases her opening with a finger, just barely pushing in. Elide gasps at the suddenness of it, tensing a bit before Manon's commanding, "Relax, kitty."

She tries, but she hadn't been prepared for Manon to touch her there, but this is her punishment, and she'll take whatever Manon plans to do to her.

"I think that next time you act out, I'll fuck your tight little ass. How does that sound?" Manon's tone is taunting, daring Elide to disagree.

Elide takes slow, deep breaths, in and out. "Whatever you want to do, Manon. I deserve it."

Manon chuckles, pleased with her obedience, before she stops teasing her entrance. She kneads her cheeks a few more times before returning to her punishment.

Manon spanks her, just as she said, five more times. No more, and no less. The last one is particularly harsh, and Elide jolts at the impact and releases a small sob, but she says, "t-twenty-five, thank y-you."

Again, Manon asks, "Color?"

"Green, i-it's still green."

"Good kitty," Manon coos, and pulls Elide up to sit on her thighs next to her.

Elide winces when her bottom makes contact with her legs, but she doesn't complain, waiting patiently for Manon's next command.

Manon wipes the tears from Elide's face, and on instinct, she leans into the touch. "Kiss?" She asks softly, and Manon frowns, because she's supposed to be punishing her. But she can never resist Elide's pout, especially when her eyes are all teary, her face is flushed, and she's just taken a rough spanking exactly as she was instructed to.

So, Manon gives in, and she gives Elide a quick peck to the lips. That's all, though, before she's pulling away, ignoring Elide's look of disappointment.

"Now, lay down on the bed." She commands, and Elide's nodding before doing as she says. She moves to the middle of the bed before pausing, looking over her shoulder to ask, "On my stomach or my back?"

"Back. I'm done with your ass for the night."

Elide does as told, laying on her back, hands fisting the sheets at her sides, waiting for Manon's next move.

She watches with glossy eyes as Manon begins to remove her clothing, boots coming off, tunic pulled over her head, leather pants shimmied down her long legs. Her grasp on the sheets tighten as she anticipates Manon's next move.

"Spread your legs," Manon orders, and so Elide does. She knows what Manon wants to see; how wet Elide's punishment made her.

Manon clicks her tongue and shakes her head, eyes zoning in on her glistening center. "It's not much of a punishment if you like it, is it?"

Elide shakes her head.

Manon hums, then lifts her leg to rest on the edge of the bed. Elide glances to the apex of her thighs, to Manon's white patch of hair that's wet with her arousal. Clearly, Manon enjoyed it too.

"Watch as I get myself off, kitty, and maybe, if you're good, you can cum, too."

Elide's eyes widen at the prospect of having an orgasm, she figured Manon wouldn't let her cum tonight. Manon doesn't often deny her an orgasm, but she thought that surely, tonight would be one of those nights.

"You took your punishment so well, kitty, and even let me play with your tight ass. If you keep making it up to me, I'll consider letting you cum," Manon says, clearly having noted Elide's surprise.

Elide licks her lips, watching as Manon's hands begin trailing down her body, cupping her tits, pinching her perky nipples. "Thank you, Manon, thank you," Elide's voice is a bit shaky, and Manon smirks.

"You're so polite when you're getting attention."

Her hands continue kneading her breasts for a few moments, before moving down, over the curve of her hips. She spreads her legs a bit more, then she's dipping two fingers down to rub her clit. One hand remains on a breast, pulling and twisting the nipple. Her head tips back a bit, and her eyes grow lidded from the pleasure.

Elide squirms from jealousy. Manon knows how much she hates watching her get herself off, she knows Elide wants to be the one to do it. But again, this is punishment. Elide doesn't get to be greedy.

Manon begins rubbing harsh circles, letting little moans fall from her lips. "Feels so good kitty, shame you can't be the one doing it." And then she's inserting her two fingers into her entrance, palm putting pressure on her aching clit.

Her hips buck a bit, and her legs spread even more, giving Elide a perfect view of her wet pussy. Lewd sounds fill the room as Manon fingers herself, and Elide whines at the sight.

"What's wrong, kitty? Upset I won't let you touch me?"

Elide nods, a mad little pout on her face.

"Words, or I'll spank your ass again," Manon spits out.

Elide swallows, "Please, Manon, I can do it better."

Her lover laughs, she laughs, and Elide's face grows red and her stomach curdles with embarrassment.

"You think a spoiled little brat could make me feel good? It didn't feel good watching you flirt with that brute, kitty. I doubt you could make me feel good now." Then her fingers start working faster, harder, and Elide can tell from her face that she's close to climaxing.

Manon's moans fill the room, and because yes, maybe Elide is a bit of a brat, and yes, she's feeling incredibly sensitive and small right now, tears start to well in her eyes.

When Manon, who had closed her eyes for a bit from the pleasure, catches sight of Elide's face, she laughs again. "You haven't even apologized yet. Am I supposed to feel bad for you?" She scoffs, and continues pleasuring herself.

"I'm sorry Manon, baby, I really am," though Elide isn't sure she really owed an apology, she'd do anything to keep Manon happy with her.

And that seems to spur Manon on, her fingers increasing in pressure and speed. Her other hand works her tits, and she's letting out overdramatic pants and moans to make Elide even more jealous that she isn't the cause of the pretty sounds falling from her lover's lips.

And then, she's climaxing, body tensing, arousal dripping down her wrist. Elide's toes curl at the sight, and she feels herself grow wetter every second she watches Manon in the midst of her orgasm.

When she comes down from her high, she climbs on the bed, making her way up Elide's body. "Please, give it to me Manon, I want it so bad," Elide whines, tense and frustrated, dizzy with desire. Manon's hand that had been working her breasts comes to squeeze Elide's throat. "Stop being a brat," she grits out, "you'll take what I give you." Elide breaths out a defiant puff of air, more bratty tears clouding her vision.

"Open your mouth," Manon commands, and Elide does. Manon sticks her fingers in Elide's awaiting mouth, and instantly, her tongue is lapping up Manon's slick. She sucks her fingers, never breaking eye contact, then releases them with a wet pop.

"Taste good, kitty?"

"So good, please, want more," Elide groans, though she knows it'll just earn her a reprimand.

Manon squeezes her throat again, and then grabs her cheeks, pulling her mouth open. She purses her lips, and spits into Elide's mouth. Some of it hits Elide's chin, and she pushes it onto Elide's tongue with her thumb.

"You're a pathetic little thing, crying and whining all because I smacked your pretty ass red and I wouldn't let you touch me."

And gods, though she's embarrassed, frustrated, and feeling so damn sensitive, Elide loves when Manon talks this way.

"Hmmm, I think you still have some making up to do, do you agree?"

"Y-yes Manon, whatever you want, take it," Elide stutters and cries, and in a brief moment of kindness, Manon wipes Elide's cheeks with her hands, but her smirk is all feral and wicked.

She begins making her way up Elide's body again, until her knees rest beside Elide's head. She looks down at her, and Elide turns her head to press a quick kiss to the inside of her thigh. Manon reaches down and grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her back to attention. Elide sniffles, but holds her gaze.

"What color, Elide?"

"Green, I-I'm so green," Elide breathes.

Manon raises an eyebrow and nods. "I'm going to fuck your face, and I'm not going to stop until I cum as many times as I want. If you need to breathe, hit my thigh, but other than that, don't touch."

Elide nods, biting her lip and sniffling some more, preparing to feast on Manon's cunt.

A harsh yank to her hair, and Elide doesn't even need to be told what Manon wants. Words.

"Yes, please, wanna taste you," Elide says.

Manon cockily rolls her eyes, then straightens herself back out. Slowly, she lowers herself to sit on Elide's face.

Instantly, Elide's feasting like a woman starved. Her tongue darts out, lapping at Manon's wet and swollen folds, circling her clit, and fucking her entrance.

Eventually, Manon's hips take over, and Elide just lets her use her mouth, nose, chin, as she pleases. Elide moans and groans into her cunt, savoring her taste. She catches brief breaths of air in between rolls of Manon's hips, and she gets glimpses at the undersides of Manon's breasts, the sight of her mouth dropped open in an 'O.'

She pushes her tongue in and out of Manon's heat, and Manon moans and mutters, "fuck, right there, kitty," until for the second time that night, she's falling over the edge.

Her hips slow down, and her soft moans quieten. She lifts from Elide's face briefly, hovering just above her mouth. Elide's panting, catching her breath, looking up at Manon with glossy eyes, swollen lips, and a wet face.

"Catch your breath kitty, I'm not done," and then Manon reaches down to smooth back Elide's hair. She moves from her straddling position for just a moment before she's turning around, then replacing her leg on the opposite side of Elide's head. Elide only has a few seconds before she's settling back on her face again, but moving slower this time, still sensitive from her previous orgasm.

Manon braces herself with one arm next to Elide's waist, and uses her other hand to push Elide's legs apart. She obeys immediately, and Manon gently, so softly she can barely feel it, begins to rub at her clit.

Nevertheless, Elide moans at the gentle pleasure. She's been craving release since Manon first told her to strip, been aching to be touched in any way, and she finally has it. The vibrations of her moan work Manon's cunt, and Manon sighs in pleasure, muttering a gentle "fuck" under her breath.

And then, suddenly, Manon pulls away and lands a spank to her pussy. Elide jumps, and squeals at the sudden flare of pain and pleasure. Instinctively, she tries to close her legs, but then Manon's smacking the inside of her thigh, too.

"Keep them open," she bites out, and Elide can't argue with Manon still slowly riding her face.

Manon repeats the process, teasing her clit, then spanking her pussy. Each time, Elide jolts, and tears leak from the corners of her eyes. Sometimes, Manon even teases her opening with the tip of a finger before she smacks her, right on her clit.

Manon begins working herself faster, and she opts to tap Elide's clit rapidly with two fingers as she approaches yet another orgasm. She spits on Elide's pussy, smearing in the added wetness, and then she's cumming all over Elide's mouth. Her hips grind down, hard, and Elide is dizzy from the stimulation to her cunt and the lack of air from Manon riding her face.

After she rides out her high, she lifts herself off Elide's mouth, where her tongue had still been lazily working through her folds. She climbs off of Elide completely, working to catch her breath.

"That was so sexy, Manon," Elide mumbles, through a teary voice and blurred vision.

Manon hums, "You feeling sensitive, kitty?"

Elide pouts. "Yeah..." she trails off, then quickly adds, "I'm still green, though!"

Manon shakes her head, but praises her nonetheless. "Good kitty, should I play with your pretty little pussy now?"

Elide nods furiously, spreading her legs and fisting the sheets.

"Hmm, I think I should mark you up first, in case Lorcan tries some shit tomorrow," Manon's voice can't hide the smile tugging at her lips, the delight she feels when she sees Elide's eyes go wide.

"Keep your hands at your side, or we're done for the night," Manon commands, and then she's straddling Elide's waist, leaning down to mouth at her breasts.

Manon wastes no time, she begins sucking harsh marks onto Elide's pale skin. She sucks, nibbles with her teeth, then soothes the skin with her tongue. Elide gasps at the pleasurable pain, and arches her back to push her tits deeper into Manon's mouth.

Manon tugs on her nipples with her teeth, then kitten licks the peaks with her tongue. Elide looks down, watching Manon worship her tits, and bites her lip at the sight.

And because Manon just can't help it, she's surging upwards to capture Elide's lips in a kiss, tugging on the lip she had just been biting, releasing it with a small growl before she's kissing her again. Their tongues dance, and Elide moans into the kiss, nearly forgetting Manon's rules to not move when she has the urge to tug Manon's hair, to pull her in deeper.

Manon breaks apart from her to trail kisses down her chin, across her cheeks, and down her throat. There, she continues her assault, sucking angry red and purple marks onto Elide's skin. Elide gasps, and stutters out, "M-Manon!"

Her lover hisses, and then bites Elide. Her teeth are only slightly sharpened, and it's quick and almost gentle, but she still draws blood. Elide hardly has time to notice it before Manon's attaching to the spot, cleaning it with her tongue.

"Fuck," Elide whimpers, nails digging into her palms through the sheets from pulling them so tight.

Manon keeps moving, until Elide's throat, collarbones, chest, and breasts are covered. Even the undersides of her tits, her sternum, and a few scattered along her upper belly.

Elide is dripping. The sheets below her are wet, sweat coats her hair and the top of her forehead, and her face is still covered with Manon's slick and spit.

She looks down, surveying her own body. "You're crazy, Manon," and Manon cackles, grinning like a madwoman. To her, that was a compliment.

"Let that fool flirt with you now," Manon leans down, hovering her mouth over Elide's. "You're mine, baby, you belong to me. Is that understood?"

Elide nods her head, lifting her chin to ghost a barely there kiss along Manon's mouth.

"All yours, Manon," she whispers against her lips.

"Good girl," Manon responds, then she's moving down, settling between Elide's spread legs. "Don't make me have to remind you again," she says, tone harsh, then she's spreading Elide's lips apart with her thumbs, eyes zoning in on her mound.

Elide groans, finally, finally, Manon's going to give her what she wants. "Please, Manon," and Elide's not even sure what she's begging for, to be touched, yes, but Elide doesn't even care how. She just wants Manon to soothe the ache of desire she's been simmering in all evening.

"So desperate, so wet," Manon coos, "it's almost sick how turned on this has all made you, Elide." And even though she knows she's just taunting, Elide bites back. "Says the one that bit my neck!"

Manon doesn't let that slide, slapping Elide's pussy with a wet smack. Elide jumps, and cries Manon's name. "You're in no position to talk back, kitty. And here I was, just calling you my 'good girl,'" Manon tsks, shaking her head and blowing a cool gust of air against Elide's puffy, inflamed cunt.

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again, promise," Elide pouts, fully aware that she's got Manon wrapped around her finger.

Manon doesn't respond, but she glares at Elide as she lowers her mouth to her clit, licking slow, soft strokes on the bundle of nerves.

"Manon," Elide moans, her head falling back against the pillows.

She continues her slow torture, alternating between gentle licking and soft suckling. Elide's eyes roll to the back of her head, she's already about to come, finding relief from the slow touch after being pent up for so long. "Mmmm, Manon, feels so good," she calls, letting that coil wind in the pit of her belly. Manon speeds up ever so slightly, and then Elide's really on the brink of climax, telling Manon, "I'm gonna cum, baby."

Much to her dismay, Manon suddenly pulls off of her pussy, and the orgasm she was within reach of slowly fades away. Elide grunts and grumbles at the stolen release, but Manon shushes her and says, "Quiet, or I'll leave you like this all night," then she's sucking and nibbling at Elide's inner thighs.

Elide rolls her eyes at Manon's obsession with marking her, but she certainly isn't complaining. It's incredibly hot.

Manon litters hickies across the expanse of the soft skin, then again, she bites Elide, and licks the blood that drips from the mark. Elide gasps, and shoots Manon a frown, much to Manon's delight.

Then, with no warning, Manon's inserting two fingers into her wet entrance. Elide's head falls back, and she pulls on the bedsheets to resist the urge to tangle her fingers in Manon's hair.

Manon, again, spits on Elide's clit, claiming her. "This pussy belongs to me, Elide, don't forget that," then she lowers her mouth to her clit, sucking harshly as she pumps her fingers in and out of her cunt.

"Yeah it does, fuck Manon, right there," Elide moans, and she bites her lip to hold back a scream when Manon curls her two fingers, then adds a third. The stretch is delicious, and Manon slows her pace to help Elide adjust to the intrusion. She's so turned on and wet, that her clenching walls squelch as Manon begins fucking her in earnest. The sound is lewd, and Elide's panting and thrashing her head, back arching off the bed.

Manon moans around her clit, then pulls back to ask, "You gonna cum, kitty?"

Elide, between groans and gasps, manages to say, "Fuck, Manon, gonna cum so hard, baby."

And then, Manon's ripping her fingers out of her cunt and pulling her mouth off of her sensitive clit.

Elide jumps and sobs out, crying, "No, Manon! Please.." she trails off tearfully, again, her orgasm slipping away from her.

Manon chuckles, watching her cunt clench around nothing. "You sound so pretty when you're crying and begging me, Elide," she says, her tone amused and playful.

Elide sighs and groans, crying, "You're being mean," and then she's releasing the sheets for the first time that night to wipe at her eyes, rubbing them in frustration.

Manon laughs again, "you deserve it," she grins, placing a kiss on the plush of Elide's thigh, right on one of her hickies. "What's your color?" she asks, lips moving against her leg.

Elide doesn't answer for a moment, taking deep breaths. Manon pulls back slightly to look up at her, and then Elide mumbles, "M'green."

Manon trusts her, and she reaches a hand up her body to play with her breast. Elide winces at the pressure to her bruises, but Manon can tell by her breathing and the way her eyes are fluttering that she's enjoying it. She pinches her nipple, then starts licking through Elide's folds. Slowly, she licks at every inch of Elide's cunt, hands moving to push Elide's legs up and out, then one returns to play with her tits. Her tongue trails down, dipping into Elide's hole briefly before she places opened mouth kisses back up to Elide's swollen clit.

Elide's in pure ectasy, her moans turning into squeals and gasps when Manon sticks her tongue in her cunt, tongue fucking her and bringing a thumb to rub at her bundle of nerves. Elide's hips are wiggling, rubbing into Manon's mouth, and she's crying out, "Please, please, please let m-me cum!" She cries out, terrified Manon will deny her this one, too.

Manon switches her tongue and fingers, again, curling three fingers into her pussy, slamming into that spongey spot inside of her that only she can reach. Elide gasps and cries Manon's name, back arching off the bed.

Manon's fingers are ruthless, fucking her fast and hard. She mumbles against her clit, "Cum for me, baby," and instantly, Elide's falling over the edge. Her eyes are squeezed shut as she sees stars, and she screams Manon's name as she has the most intense orgasm of her life.

Her name keeps falling from her lips like a chant, and her hips ride Manon's fingers and mouth, taking as much pleasure as she can get. Her orgasm lasts so long, and Manon works her down with gentle licks, slowly pulling her fingers out of her pulsing cunt.

Elide's chest is heaving, face flushed and sweaty. Her mind's in a fog, and she barely registers the sight of Manon climbing up her body, brushing hair off of her forehead.

"Still with me, baby?" Manon asks, smiling down at her fucked out state. Elide whimpers, nodding her head weakly.

Manon coos at her, "What's the matter, kitty? Do you think we're done?"

Immediately, Elide's eyes widen, and she's staring at Manon like she's grown three heads. "Manon, I can't take anymore," she whines, tears slipping down her cheeks.

Manon shakes her head and smiles, deceivingly sweet. "I think you can, you know what to say if you really can't."

Then she's grinding down onto Elide, rubbing their wet pussies together.

Manon groans, and Elide gasps and whines, hips writhing at the overstimulation. "Take it Elide, take it," Manon gets out between moans, her cunt still sensitive from her three orgasms.

"Fuck, Manon, oh my gods," Elide cries, toes curling and hands coming up to grip Manon's ass. Manon doesn't scold her for breaking the no touching rule, knowing how badly she needs the comfort during this.

Her fingers dig into Manon's flesh, spurring her on. She thrusts faster and harder, the slick and spit allowing their pussies to rub deliciously. Manon squeezes Elide's breast in her hand, and kisses her parted lips. Elide doesn't hesitate to kiss back, moaning into Manon's mouth until she makes her way down, kissing her throat.

After a few more harsh thrusts, Elide's cumming again, and this time, she feels a gush between her legs, splashing onto her inner thighs and all over Manon.

Manon moans, and Elide swears she even growls, as she also reaches her climax. "Fuck Elide," she groans, "you squirted, kitty." She chuckles, and Elide grimaces in embarrassment, her chest is still heaving from the intensity of her climax.

Manon shushes her, kissing her cheek. "That was so fucking sexy, Elide," she whispers into her ear, pulling her earlobe between her teeth for a brief moment.

"T-that was so..." Elide trails off, swallowing and catching her breath, "so much, Manon, fuck."

"Hmm, and you took it so well, like a good girl," Manon purrs, moving to lay by Elide's side.

Elide can't help the tears that seem to not have stopped all night, and she sleepily rubs at her eyes with one hand. "I feel sticky," she whines, clinging onto Manon as she pulls her into her arms.

"Poor baby," Manon mocks, "too fucked out to function?" she asks, teasing. Elide nods, turning into Manon's hold, burying her face in her chest, where she continues to gently cry, coming down from the most intense fucking she and Manon have ever had.

Manon gives a contented sigh, fingers brushing through Elide's sweaty hair, running down her back. "Wasn't too much, right?" she asks, always concerned with Elide's wellbeing. Elide shakes her head head, mumbling, "s'jus intense, I need'a minute..." and of course, Manon understands. she continues to gently rub Elide's back, lightly scratching with her nails. She places gentle kisses to her hairline, and murmurs comforting words in her ears.

After a few minutes, Elide pulls back, shakily, to look up into Manon's eyes. "You know I feel nothing for him... I love you Manon, so much, I'm sorry if I made you doubt that, I would never want to do that," and her eyes get all glassy again, because she's started to feel genuinely bad about it.

Manon shushes her, kissing her forehead. "Don't worry about it anymore, kitty, I know you love me. Just needed some attention, huh, baby?"

Elide sniffles and nods, "I'm really sorry Manon, it won't happen again."

"Shhh, I know it won't. I'm not upset with you, Elide, I promise," and then she leans in, placing a gentle peck to Elide's pouted lips. "Will you let me clean you up? Take care of you? You're shaking, baby," Manon says, tone laced with worry. This was definitely the most she'd asked of Elide in the bedroom, but she was proud of how well she handled it.

"Please," Elide whimpers, wrapping her arms around Manon's neck. Manon wraps her arms around Elide, one hand bracing her back and the other guiding her legs to wrap around her waist. She picks her up, carrying her towards their bathroom.

Manon places Elide on the bathroom counter, kissing her cheek when she winces at the pain shooting through her rear. She leaves Elide for a second, ignoring her cute little whines, to turn the tap on, letting the large tub fill with steaming water. She drips some scented oils into the tub, too. Lavender, to help Elide relax. Then, she grabs a washcloth, wetting it under the stream before returning to her lover, patiently waiting on the counter with her legs spread. Wordlessly, Manon begins to clean between her thighs. She's gentle, and yet Elide still jumps when the cloth makes contact with her puffy folds. Manon rubs the outside of her thigh to soothe her, and continues to wipe away the spit and cum that Elide's covered in.

When Elide moves to take the rag from her after she's finished, Manon pulls it from her grasp, and instead, cleans herself. "This is about you, baby, just relax," she says, disposing of the cloth in the laundry basket when finished.

When the tub is full, Manon holds Elide's hand as she climbs off the counter. She catches sight of Elide's inflamed ass as she walks towards the tub, and she smirks at the marks she left behind, but feels a bit guilty to be causing Elide any pain.

"You're getting in with me, right?" Elide asks over her shoulder, and Manon pulls her gaze away from her rounded cheeks, moving to hold Elide's arms and place delicate kisses along her shoulder.

"If you want me to, I will."

"Of course I want you to," Elide replies, and climbs into the tub.

Manon does too, sitting against the wall of the tub, spreading her legs so that Elide can sit between them. Again, she sucks in a sharp breath of air at the sting to her butt, and she shifts to place more of her weight on her side.

"You're breaking my heart, kitty," Manon speaks into the crook of her neck. Elide sighs, "I like it, though." Manon smirks and cups some of the hot water in her hands, bringing it up to pour down Elide's chest.

They spend nearly an hour in the bath, cuddling, talking, calming down. Manon washes Elide's body and hair, making sure to be gentle of her bruises and bites. And when Elide insists on washing Manon too, she lets her, enjoying the feeling of being doted on even though she had intended the aftercare session to be about Elide only.

When they finish and the water's gone cold, they climb out together, and Manon towels Elide's body dry, then her own.

"Go lay down on your stomach, sweetheart. I'm gonna rub some oils on your poor bum," Manon's tone is teasing, and she winks at Elide's shy grin.

"What did I do to deserve such a kindness, hmm?" Elide calls over her shoulder while she does as instructed, removing the top blanket from their bed that needs to be washed, and climbing onto the sheets.

Manon gathers supplies from the bathroom drawer, and follows Elide into the bedroom. "Tonight was rough, I want to make sure you're taken care of," Manon answers, and shrugs like it's no big deal.

Elide watches her, gaze full of love and adoration. "I don't deserve you, Manon, I love you," and she smiles at Manon's stricken face.

"Of course you do, don't say something stupid, now," Manon snaps, though she isn't truly angry. Elide giggles, watching her climb atop the bed.

She pours some oil into her hand, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up. She bends to press a few light kisses to Elide's asscheeks, then gently, she begins rubbing with her hands.

Elide groans at the tenderness, and Manon smirks. "It'll feel better soon," she says.

She continues to rub the soothing oil into her flesh, and into her inner thighs, too, where the hickies are a stark contrast against her snow-white skin.

Then, she has Elide flip over, and he works the oil into her chest, too. Elide smiles up at her. "Don't get me turned on again, Manon," she says, as Manon rubs into her breasts.

Manon rolls her eyes. "You're done for the night, little one," and then she's capping the oil, placing it on the bedside table.

She pulls the covers down the bed, Elide shifting to make it easier. She tucks her girlfriend in, then climbs in beside her. Immediately, Elide's curling into her embrace, nuzzling into Manon's chest. The feel of Elide's skin against her own comforts Manon, and she presses a kiss to her head, urging her to go to sleep. Blearily, Elide tells Manon that she loves her, and Manon echoes the statement before she joins Elide and drifts to sleep.

---

A/N: wow! did i go overboard? maybe. this is a lot longer than a drabble or a blurb or a headcanon, but i just got carried away! i had so much fun writing this filth. i hope you all enjoy, and of course, feel free to send a request after checking my masterlist for rules! :)

[ineffablefool]

Any UKians want to help a denizen of the colonies with some details about your seaside holiday destination sorta town thingies? Not necessarily the ones within easy reach of the South Downs, although that'd be nic... I mean, nea... fin -- nrrrgh!! ... ... acceptable.

Note that this is kind of incredibly vaguely a spoiler for something I'm writing, and also that I do not need any more answers if you (yes, you! hello!) are seeing this post later than mid-March 2024. (I mean, maybe the post takes on a life of its own as a general resource or whatever, but if your goal is to help Jack N F Ibblefool specifically, then this is kind of a limited-time thing.)

I'm looking for broad general possibilities with these questions. Yeah, every destination is different, but is it feasible that an unnamed probably fictional town would have X or do Y? Or is it rare enough that that detail would likely just be distracting if I put it in a fic?

Also some people will say "yeah X is totally a thing" while others will say "I have never heard of a seaside vacation spot doing X in my entire life" and that is okay. You're both giving me parts of the whole picture!

Anyway. Questions! Exclamation point.

1. What's a likely kind of bird to be flying around town annoying people? I'd assume seagulls, but is it actually something else? Pigeons? Extremely lost penguins?

2. Is it the rule that all the restaurants and bakeries and curio shops shut down in the off season, or is it feasible that the people who actually live there would be sufficiently interested for at least most of it to stay open? (i.e. a "nah that crap's for tourists" mindset vs a "finally the tourists are gone and we can use our own stuff again" one)

3. Would it be feasible that souvenir places would take USD? Or, would it be feasible that especially rude visiting Americans would try to insist on paying with their Colony Cash even after being told that they can't?

4. Any rude tourist behavior (from anyone, foreign or not) that you'd really enjoy seeing get a bit of demonic comeuppance? Has to be something that's quick and clear enough that a casual observer from across the street could easily clock the rudeness without extended observation (so like "loudly yelling in the street" would work, but "ordering Very British And/Or Local Food at a restaurant and then getting pissy because it's different from food you eat at home" would not, because the observer would need to be close enough to know what was ordered and be paying attention enough to follow along with what led to the complaint).

5. Would groups of kids (locals or tourists) potentially be hanging around the main drag/business district unchaperoned? Think The Them, here (but I am not specifically talking about The Them).

6. Are you having a nice day? I hope you are having a nice day!!

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

Hello! I saw your asks open and i wanted to request some angst headcanons with dad!Asmo. I just read Luci's and oh man that sure hurt my heart, you write angst so well!

Unwanted (Dad!Asmo x F!Reader) ANGST

A/N : Mammon plays a really big part in this, just as Beel played a big role in the dad!Lucifer fic. It's never hinted whether they're together or not, it's kind of up to the imagination... but if you'd like, I can write a part two to this??? (I will also, to anyone who might want it, write a part two to the dad!Lucifer fic)

Word Count : 2.3K Warnings : pregnancy ; children ; maternity ; babies ; hinted abortion ; angst ;

He never wanted children, he didn’t want anything that would actually tie him down to anything or anyone. It wasn’t his “thing”, and you both had done everything to prevent it from happening. Up until now, everything had worked, there had never been one mistake, but the both of you got sloppy. There was a party, and… well, you loved him, and he had said that he loved you, and precautions weren’t a “thing” at that moment. One slip up, one mistake, and now everything was falling apart.

“I didn’t want this. I don’t want that.” He spat the words at you, pointing towards your stomach. He had only stopped pacing long enough to say it before starting again, walking the length of his room as he gnawed at his perfectly manicured fingers. You hadn’t expected anything different from him, but it still hurt that he was blaming the whole thing on you, as if it didn’t take 50/50 participation to make something like this happen. “It’ll completely ruin my image. A child with a human! It’ll be all over the tabloids, in every magazine… I can’t have that.” His behavior shouldn’t have been that shocking to you, but to hear just how selfish he really was, to know that he thought so little of you, it hurt way worse than you ever thought it would. One moment he was professing his love to you, and now he’s disgusted with you. It could have been that your emotions were running high from the situation, or maybe the hormones had just taken over completely, but you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry, and you wanted to fight him. “Your image?! This thing could kill me and all you care about is your stupid public persona… Screw you! I wish I never fell in love with you.” His eyes went soft, and for a moment you thought that maybe he’d apologize, maybe he was rethinking his own words, his actions, that maybe you’d be able to be a team to work through this mess. You were wrong, you were so wrong. “Wish all you want, we both know you’d have never been able to resist me.” Narcissistic, selfish, he was just awful. You closed your eyes tightly, trying to fight back the tears as you walked past him. He didn’t deserve your last words, he didn’t deserve anything. He didn’t deserve you.

The twelfth week was supposed to be the most exciting. It was when most couples would finally make their announcements, happily tell family and friends that they were expecting. Your twelfth week was a nightmare. You were trapped in the Devildom, human doctors wouldn’t know what the hell was going on if they delivered a child with horns, a child so angelically demonic that they’d probably call the hospital priest to your room as soon as they saw it. The only place where you’d be able to safely deliver a child like this and live through it would be in the Devildom. It’s not like you hadn’t tried to relieve yourself of the problem. You had gone to Lucifer, Satan, Barbatos, even Lord Diavolo, asking them if there was any way that they could just… get rid of it. Sadly, Asmodeus wasn’t just a narcissistic, selfish prick, he was also sadistic. None of them could do anything without Asmodeus’ approval since it was his child too. Every time one of them asked him, he would refuse. He didn’t even give a reason, he just wanted to see you suffer. Strangely, you had found comfort and solace in Mammon. You were pretty sure he was only helping because he still had a crush on you, but he became your emotional, mental, and physical support throughout everything. You had told him many times that he didn’t have to basically “fill in” for Asmo, but he insisted that it was the least he could do considering his little brother was being a dick. He wasn’t just your support at the house, he was… invested in the child that Asmo hadn’t wanted. He took you to doctors appointments, sometimes even getting in the way of the doctor as he pointed to the ultrasound screen. He was so excited that most people just assumed it was his kid, and he never denied it either. It was just easier that way, to go along with whatever the other demons said because he knew that any mention of Asmo would upset you and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Some days the both of you would sit on the couch in the living room, flipping through the pages of maternity books. He’d really try to understand the diagrams on the pages, but you could tell that he was confused and sometimes he’d even look up at you from the pages, and then down at your stomach, and then up at you, before looking back down at the pages. It was cute, and you’d giggle lightly, resting your head on his shoulder as you continued flipping through the pages. He had become the only person in the house that you felt like you could fully trust and rely on. Everyone else wanted to stay out of the drama, nobody wanted to get involved, but Mammon wasn’t there for the drama, he was only there for you, he was there when you needed him.

“Can you believe him? Can you believe both of them? We haven’t even broken up and they’re sleeping together, she’s even wearing his clothes. It’s ridiculous, and Mammon is out there playing dad with my kid.” Asmo sat on the edge of the counter, voicing his complaints to anyone who would listen. Sadly it was Beel’s turn since he was the only one in the kitchen right now. Most of the time the other brothers would just hide themselves away, not wanting to deal with Asmo right now, but Beel had gotten hungry and he really thought he’d be lucky enough to avoid his brother. “I don’t know what the big deal is… You didn’t want the kid anyway.” He wasn’t going to walk on eggshells around Asmo, he wasn’t going to lie to make anyone feel better. In Beel’s eyes, Asmo was completely in the wrong. “If Y/N is finding some sort of happiness in spending time with Mammon, who are you to complain? It stopped being your place when you said you didn’t want it.” He shrugged before grabbing his plate and going straight back to his room. He wasn’t going to continue listening to it, but he hoped that he had left Asmo with something to really think about. He walked up the stairs, going straight to the bedroom door, knocking loudly. He wasn’t going to stop until someone opened the door either. Mammon got up from the bed that you both had been propped up on, rolling his eyes as he walked over to his door, groaning loudly when he saw Asmo standing there. “Whaddaya want? We don’t need ya here… yer just gonna stress ‘er out.” He was trying to talk quietly, not wanting you to hear him or even know who was there. He was so protective of you, he wouldn’t let anyone else serve your food during meals, he’d even stand outside the bathroom door whenever you were in there just to make sure you didn’t fall or hurt yourself. Asmo pushed his way into the room much to Mammon’s annoyance. “I don’t care, Mammon. Y/N isn’t yours, and neither is the child. They’re both mine, and I’d like to have a word with her.” He said snidely, but Mammon wasn’t going to have it. Brother or not, he cared too much about you, he had worked so hard to help you get over what Asmo had done, and he wasn’t going to let him waltz back in and ruin everything. Mammon wasn’t weak, he was way stronger than he looked, and right now he was showing his strength, grabbing Asmo’s arm and practically throwing him out of the room. His teeth were barred and the growl that was coming from him sounded feral, animalistic, it was terrifying. “Neither of them are yers! I’ve been there fer everything, every doctor visit, I even bought a damn room fer the kid and she’s sleepin’ in my room, next ta me, and a next ta Y/N. Ya know why?! ‘Cause ya don’t jus’ get ta come back when ya fine’ly realize that ya fucked up! Now… leave us alone. We don’t need ya here.” He left Asmo out in the hallway, crumpled against the wall as he walked back into the room. “She…” Asmo kept repeating the word as he pushed himself up off the floor. He was having a daughter, and he hadn’t even known about it, he wouldn’t have known about it if Mammon hadn’t screamed at him. It was strange how knowing made things more real, it made him care more, and the worst part was that he knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to you. He didn’t know how to fix what he had done, but he knew that he had to try at least. “Lucifer…” “I don’t want things to be like this when she gets here. It’s not going to be long either.” You sighed, finally relaxing once more in the bed once Mammon got in next to you. “Why was he here anyway?” Mammon shrugged, focusing all of his attention on your stomach trying to calm himself. He liked watching it move, he thought it was neat.

The delivery was smoother than you thought it would be, and Mammon only fainted twice during the whole thing, so he did pretty good. Delivering a child in the Devildom had its perks, the main one being that you didn’t have to stay more than one day in the hospital to recover. They did some spell and you were completely fine. It was strange, but you appreciated it greatly. The only issue with the perk was that it meant you were going back home and that meant you’d have to face Asmo. She looked so much like him, and you could tell that Mammon was upset by it. Even though he knew she wasn’t actually his, he wished that she didn’t look so much like her father. Her eyes were his exact color, and it left you speechless when she first opened them, gazing up at you with wonder and curiosity. She was precious, and she was yours. As you walked through the door you were met with balloons and streamers, and Asmo. You heard Mammon growl quietly, and you quickly held your hand out to him, silently begging him to stop. He was holding the carseat and you didn’t need him to lose his temper right now. “I just wanted to welcome her home, welcome you home. I bought some things for her, they’re outside of Mammon’s door.” Asmo said nervously, and for once he was terrified of being rejected. “We don’t need noth-” Mammon had started, but you quickly shook your head, pleading to him with your eyes to just stay calm. He groaned loudly, eyeing Asmo angrily before walking past him to the stairs. “Fine. She’s prob’ly hungry… I’m gonna feed ‘er. Ya comin’ up?” You nodded quickly, making sure he got up the stairs alright before turning back to Asmo. “What are you doing, Asmo?”

He moved into the living room, waiting for you to sit down before he did, and he looked scared, he looked sad. Of course you didn’t like seeing him like this, but it was his fault, he had caused all of this. “I don’t want to be alone. I know that sounds selfish, that I’m making this about myself again, but I’m not trying to. When Mammon told me… he said she… It's a girl?” You nodded slowly and you saw his face light up for only a second before it left once more. “I was scared, I am scared… I didn’t know if I’d be a good… father. I never saw myself as one, but seeing Mammon, and he’s doing so well… I never saw him as a father either… I thought that maybe, since he could… that maybe I could too.” He sighed, bringing his hand back up to his lips to chew at his fingers again, his orange eyes glistening with the tears that hadn’t fallen yet. “I know that what I said was wrong… I was rude. I didn’t think I’d have a problem finding someone to take my mind off of everything, but I was wrong. I love you, and nobody else is going to take your place, nobody else can take your place.” You both sat on the couch in silence, his tears finally falling as he waited for you to say something, and yours building up as you tried to think of something to say. “This isn’t fair… You know this isn’t fair. You can’t… you can’t pick and choose when you want to be a dad. You weren’t there… and you made it very clear that you didn’t want her. I… I can’t do this Asmo… I’m sorry… They’re waiting for me… I-I have to go.” You took a deep breath as you stood from the couch, wiping your tears with the back of your hands as you started walking to the stairs. “Y/N…” He walked up behind you, grabbing your hand to stop you. You didn’t turn around to face him, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, but he didn’t mind. He was actually thankful that you didn’t look at him, because what he was about to say was the hardest thing he’d ever have to say in his life. “I know that I’m unwanted… But… If I may… Can I meet her? Just once? Please?”

[thestraggletag]

Roll for Initiative, a Rumbelle D&D Fic

Summary: Tales of the Enchanted Forest was the hottest online D&D game, in part for its charismatic players, in part for the twisted turns of the DM's mind and in part because of the outrageous chemistry between its greatest OTP, the party's beautiful bard and the Dark One, an anti-hero side-character who is there to provide information and uncomfortable levels of UST. Mr Gold thinks it's a harmless flirtation that could never become anything else, just like his silly little crush on the town librarian, Belle French.

He's wrong.

Rating: Explicit.

Author’s Note: Surprise, @argoslight​, it is I, your Gifter! Sorry to make you wait till near the end but I just had way more banter to write in me than I thought. I hope you enjoy your gift. I’m so sorry to not be able to add more D&D elements but since I don’t play I don’t have a lot of idea of what could be done. Also I apologise for any mistakes! And thanks so much to @little-inkstone for her help and D&D knowledge.

The castle was quiet when she entered, her steps echoing against the stone. It was gloomy inside, curtains obscured and decor sparse and sombre, the castle living up to its name. But there were flowers on the table, moon lilies, her favourite flower. They bloomed only in the Eastern Mountains past the Old Wall, but she had long since suspected he grew some on one of his enchanted hothouses, with the excuse of using them for potions. 

“Where’s the rest of your pretty little troop of do-gooders, dearie?”

The voice came out of nowhere, echoing around the empty halls of the castle. Thankfully she did not need directions, knowing exactly when to turn and where to go. Soon she found herself in a vast room, with a table on the centre and curios filled with oddities and the like. Some others were displayed on pedestals, including a rather fearsome sword and a nasty-looking crown made of thorns. None of the artefacts were what she sought, but she was not there to bargain for an item, but rather for information.

“Off on their own quests, taking care of other things that need doing.”

The voice tsked, seeming not to approve.

“They let you enter the lair of the beast alone? Some heroes.”

The woman lowered the hood of her cloak and walked towards the unlit chimney. Immediately a fire blazed to life, as if the castle itself was trying to cater to her comfort. The fire provided much-needed light as well, revealing the profile of a man in the shadows. Or something that looked like a man, at least, if not for the reflective scales that covered his body and its strange eyes: gold irises around catlike pupils.

“I asked to come alone. I felt like we could talk more openly this way.”

She removed her cloak, ostensibly to drape it across a chair near the fire and let it dry. The creature, however, seemed to read more into the gesture, tsking again.

“You come here all alone, a pretty little lamb, and take off the only real bit of protection you have. Reckless, dearie, most reckless.”

 The creature stood up, walking slowly towards the light, revealing more of its form as it approached her. Leather pants and a long, reptilian-looking vest and coat. It wasn’t particularly tall but power emanated from it in suffocating waves. She closed her eyes, finding his cloying presence strangely comforting. Then again, she had always been odd. 

“Once again your pitiful little party of friends needs my help. How they weigh you down, Beauty.”

He stepped fully into the light then, revealing a being more creature than man, the reptilian skin and claws as off-putting as his unnatural eyes. She should’ve taken a step back, should’ve gone for her blade or the dagger tucked into her left boot, but she didn’t. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she felt at ease in his presence. Well, perhaps not quite. She certainly felt a strange sort of anxiousness in his presence, a fluttery sort of feeling that she attributed to being particularly attuned to his magic. None of the other members of her party felt that way. If anything, he repulsed them, which wasn’t something she could understand. To her he was… magnetic.

“Are you in the mood for dealing or not? I can trade for information.”

He snorted.

“With what? Your little band of misfits is dirt poor. That idiotic paladin of yours ruined your last mission. You really should think about ditching the man. All brawn, no brains. At least your rogue is a smart woman.”

His gaze left her briefly, running down the length of her clothing: sturdy black boots, a nicely-cut dress that stopped around the knees and a sturdy belt with a few pockets for her spells. But the clothing, as well-made as it was, was dated, old. Looked worn and was signed and stained in places, and it left a lot of her frail human skin exposed. She had not been able to afford an upgrade in a while, preferring to spend her coin in what could benefit the group.

His moue of distaste disappeared once his eyes fell on her cloak. Well, his cloak, since he had been the one to make it. It was a lovely thing in varied shades of green, shot through with golden thread, his trademark. She had bought it off him a long time ago, a simple thing to keep her warm during cold nights and dry when it rained. Miraculously, though, it also did not sustain damage, looking exactly the same as when she had first put it on.

“I’m glad at least my protection is serving you well.”

He ran a claw along the seams of the cloak, making it glitter, like to like, magic calling for its own. He looked smug, as if pleased she was wearing something he had made.

“It does more than we bargained for. I’ve been blasted with magic strong enough to burn through most fabric but it has not even frayed. How strange of you, Rumplestiltskin, to lose out on a deal.”

He shivered when she said his name, walking behind her to the safety of the shadow she cast next to the fire.

“Can’t help it if my magic is just that powerful, my dear. I’m glad you are a happy customer. Always thought that cloak was a nice bit of magic. Can’t fault you for always wearing it.”

She felt him close in on her from behind, to the point that it almost felt like they were touching.

“It smells like you. That’s why I wear it all the time.”

The noise he made behind her was inhuman, a cross between a whimper and a growl. His claws scrapped against the back of her dress, the feeling muted by her stays, but she could feel his breath against the back of her neck and that alone was-

“Hey, this is a decent stream! Keep it PG for the kids, you weirdos.”

“Damn it, Grumpy, I wanted to see how long it would take them to snap out of it!”

“Sorry, Snow, but I ate a big dinner and I aim to keep it down.”

The messages in the chatroom wheezed by, mostly disgruntled complaints about their OTP never catching a break. The other participants in the stream were mostly silent, their mics muted likely to hide the amused snickers. There was no video feed on any of the members of the party, all of them represented instead by artwork to preserve their anonymity. Once upon a time that had been a fanciful choice, and perhaps a way to stay safe when interacting with strangers on the internet. Now it was mostly to keep their private lives from being overtaken by the popularity of their stream. “Tales of the Enchanted Forest” was shaping up to be one of the hottest D&D online streaming shows, already on its third campaign and counting.

“Beauty is just trying to get us some answers, Grumpy. We can’t just go stumbling about hoping to run into some fairy wand by chance.”

“Oh, it’s that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Enough! Can we get back to the campaign already? It took me weeks to plan and it kinda hinges a bit on the Dark One helping, which needs to happen today.”

“Fine by me, dearie, if the dwarf can curtail his temper.”

The party was composed of five characters, a paladin, a cleric, a bard, a rogue and a thief, which along with the Dungeon Master made up the regular cast of every weekly stream. But given the popularity of the show, and the amount of time they had been playing, they had managed to amass a good amount of side-characters, guests invited every now and then to help the campaign move along and keep the interest of the audience. And by far the most popular of those guests was the Dark One, a wizard of unknown lineage and tremendous power that served both as an antagonist and a pseudo-ally depending on the situation. 

His presence was likely the reason why the livestream’s numbers looked so robust. He had amassed quite a fanbase, due in part to the commitment the player put on the character (the voice-acting was above and beyond what anyone could’ve expected from an amateur performer, and the backstory was quite complex, revealed in bits and pieces fans had meticulously assembled together) and in part to the chemistry he had managed to develop with the group’s bard, a half-human named Beauty.

“Okay, let’s all go back to what we were doing.” The DM’s voice was authoritative, though also more than a bit pissed off. “Okay, Beauty, you were about to try and cajole the Dark One to sell you the information you needed in return for a vial of water from Lake Nostos. Though the water is valuable, it’s not guaranteed to be enough to tempt the wizard. You have to roll at least a 13 in persuasion to make the trade. Roll when you’re ready.”

...

Rumford Gold stretched within the confines of the small backroom of his shop, where he had his computer stuff set up. Initially he’d bought the computer to better conduct his online business. His laptop at home wasn’t cutting it and it was better to photograph the antiques, update the website and handle the deliveries from his place of business. He had bought a good camera, some light fixtures and, on a whim, a microphone, for instances where he might need to virtually communicate with clients. It was something that was happening more and more, especially because a lot of his clientele was European. The internet had truly turned his antiquing- more of a hobby than a profession originally- into a profitable business.

He had gotten into watching D&D while waiting late at night for a client to become available in Austria. He had played as a lad, one of the few happy moments he could remember from his childhood in Glasgow, but had given it up once he had met Milah. And after they were over he had been too involved in making something of himself to remember past childhood enjoyments. But apparently D&D had evolved with the times and he had gotten into the habit of searching for and watching online D&D campaigns in his spare time. From that to actually being a side-character in one of them took almost no time. It was frightfully easy to go back to that frame of mind of playing make-believe, only now he had a distaste for the clean-cut heroic types and more of an affinity for the morally-grey, shady characters.

So he had auditioned for the role of evil-wizard when there had been an opening for a side-character in his favourite D&D stream, The Enchanted Forest. And though the DM had written what he considered to be a very flat, uninteresting character, he had been able to give it his own spin. He knew the DM hated him for it, hated when he deviated from what was expected of him, but people loved him. It was half the fun, pissing the DM off.

The other half, he had to admit, was Beauty. The one with the brains in the group, clearly, a half-human, half-fairy bard with an uncanny ability to think ahead, and arm herself with knowledge. Most of the other members of her party were more apt to try and decapitate something than negotiate with it, or even befriend it. Beauty prided herself on more of a gentle approach, which sometimes got her treated as the “fragile” one. He thought it just made her all the more interesting.

Their flirting had just kinda happened. He was half into it before he realised it had begun at all and by the time he had grown conscious- and self-conscious- of it fans were lapping it up and loving it. Even the DM, as loath as he was to admit it, found the banter engaging, even as if stole the spotlight from his story and where he wanted it to go. So every now and then he got invited into a stream, sometimes to interact with the whole party and sometimes, like the session he had just finished, to speak only to Beauty. And what was supposed to be a brief conversation before the party moved to greener pastures became a whole session, with the chatroom full of engagement and the view count off the charts.

But the DM had had a short tolerance span tonight, and had nipped things in the bud much sooner than usual. He felt… unfulfilled. Unsatisfied. Itchy, almost, in a way. So he was more than happy when he received an email from Beauty, who seemed to share his dislike of how the session had played out. They had started doing that more often, sharing emails after a session, even when he did not participate in it. It was harmless, he thought. Just an innocent online flirtation that could never realistically turn into anything. Not that his more in-person romantic overtures could ever pan out. He was in his third year of being completely smitten by the local town librarian, and in his second year of being able to put two words together in front of her without the help from Scotch, something he was perhaps a bit too proud of. And though he had decided very early on that the whole thing was utterly hopeless he had not been able to steer his thoughts or affections away. Realistically he was perhaps more in love with the idea of Belle French than the reality itself, given how little he had personally interacted with the woman. But he knew just enough to fill in the blanks and create a beautiful picture of how he imagined her to be: bookish- an easy assumption given how many times he had caught her in public places absorbed in a book-, kind, generous and delightfully able to hold a grudge and enact revenge when the time came. A bit reckless, and sometimes quick to form opinions, but also quick to revise them. A tactile person, with a great sense of fashion and a carelessness about what was expected of her.

He saw her in his head as clear as day, but little of that image was based on any personal knowledge of her. So, perhaps, he had found in Beauty a fictional substitute, someone he could talk to, and flirt with, without consequences, adopting the persona of someone more confident, more at ease with that sort of thing. The Dark One was comfortable in his skin in a way that he could only pretend to be sometimes. All the money and power he had accumulated over the years had helped him evolve from the spineless, cowardly lad he had once been, but when it came to certain situations, especially those that necessitated a level of vulnerability, he was still hopeless.

Perhaps, he wondered, it was better to think about his online liaison with Beauty as the real thing. They wrote to each other often, in and out of character, and over the course of their correspondence he had confided in her more than he had in any other person alive. Small things at first, every day peeves and details. Nothing that could identify them, certainly, but surprisingly intimate nevertheless. And over time it had grown to stuttering confessions and barings of the soul on both sides. She had told him of her teenage years in a mental asylum, the product of an overwrought widowed father trying to do right by his grieving daughter. He had had a few choice words to say about that, uncharitable thoughts about her father prompting his own willing sharing of the sad story of his childhood, neglectful father and all. It had felt nice, to confide in someone, someone he trusted.

He glanced at her email, where she lamented how their scene had not been as long or as satisfying as she had wanted, and saw she was proposing to meet later in a private stream to finish it the way they had both wanted. She had proposed something similar once or twice before and he had politely declined but now he wondered why not take her up on her offer. What was stopping him? His imaginary idea of Belle French, who in reality had never given him more than a polite smile in passing? Too young, too good, too beautiful to ever see him as anything other than an old cripple? Whatever he had built with Beauty felt infinitely more real, and attainable. A relationship without ever meeting in person seemed ideal in many aspects and, perhaps, if and when it came to meeting in the real world, his physical shortcomings would not be relevant, nor would it his rather uncharitable reputation.

He sent her a quick reply to arrange a meeting, feeling like a bit of roleplaying was, in the end, quite harmless. And if it were to lead to something a bit more meaningful, well, perhaps it was about time.

…

“Water from Lake Nostos. A key ingredient in most powerful potions and even some spells. I’m sure it could prove useful to you.”

The bard showed him the glowing crystal vial hanging from a long chain around her neck, with the glowing milky-white water from the cursed lake in it. He made a move to get closer to inspect it but the woman took a step back, tucking the vial back inside her bodice. The wizard’s eyes lingered there, hiz gaze growing intense. The bard felt her skin flush in response, something that felt a bit like fear but wasn’t running down her spine.

“And I’m sure a new wardrobe could prove useful to you, dearie. You’re practically wearing rags.” Rumplestiltskin made a show of running his eyes up and down her form with just enough disgust in his face to make it seem as if he was only noticing the rather sad state of her dress. 

“It’s my best gown, I’d thank you not to insult it.”

He made a moue of disapproval, shaking his head for good measure.

“You’re far from your days as a princess. I hope seeing the world is worth putting up with your band of idiots that waste most of the gold they earn with your wit in pointless goose chases that you know will lead nowhere.”

Beauty didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say to contradict what he thought of her party, none of which was charitable to say the least. And she also knew that he was aware that all of it was worth the freedom she had won when she had left her life in her father’s castle behind. She did miss one or two things, perhaps. Her mother’s vast library being one and, perhaps, some of the fashions. Not so much the silhouettes- she had never liked how the sea of petticoats she was always forced to wear restricted her movement- but the fabrics and colours, certainly. And the shoes.

“I’m here to make a deal, Dark One. Are you doing business today or not?”

Lesser creatures would’ve rather bitten off their tongues that throw cheek at the Dark One, but Beauty did not even bat an eye, lips curling in a defiant little smile that had the wizard smirking, something like admiration blooming in his chest. It’s what he loved most about his little bard, her spine of steel. And perhaps her blue eyes, but that was neither here nor there.

“I don’t do business with raggedy urchins, dearie. If you want to sit down and negotiate you’ll need a bath.” He made a face, as if he could smell her across the room. “And a change of dress, while I put your current outfit to wash… Or set it on fire, I haven’t decided yet.”

She could tell that he was pulling his punches, that he was playing at being repulsed by her state of dress and hygiene just bad enough that she would see he did not really mean it, not in any real way. She would’ve been able to tell either way, but it was nice that he thought it important to spare her feelings. And she couldn’t deny that a bath sounded heavenly after so many weeks on the road, sleeping out in the open and washing in freezing-cold creeks whenever possible.

“Well, if you insist…”

He took her to a well-lit and spacious bathing chamber, with the biggest copper tub she had ever seen, already filled with warm, soapy water that smelled of vanilla. She wasted no time after the door closed behind him, stripping quickly, careless of her worn and mended garments, and slipping into the tub. It was heaven on her tired muscles, and her dirty skin, and though she would’ve stayed there for hours she knew that every minute spent bathing was a minute less with the Dark One. Their time was limited. If she didn’t return to camp in the morning her party would venture into the castle, likely thinking the most dreadful scenarios. She could picture Charming attempting to kick the front gate open and getting hurt for his troubles. She could not let them worry for her, or risk the rapport she had developed with the Dark One by coming in unannounced. 

She got out of the tub with only a bit of reluctance and found a towel that she was convinced was enchanted to dry her faster than possible. She found clothing laid out in the adjoining dressing room, the undergarments soft and made of pale cream fabric and the dress of a lovely velvety, forest-green fabric, with a belt embroidered in small pearls that matched the detail about the neckline. She put it on gladly, twisting every which way to lace it up at her back. Living a less princessy life had made her acquire a number of small skills, including the ability to dress up mostly by herself even in gowns that did not lace up at the front, like most of her travelling clothes.

She did not spot her mauve travelling dress or her boots, but she was sure that Rumplestiltskin had whisked them away and would subtly mend them with magic, though she was sure he would deny it if she were to point it out. The green dress was accompanied by matching slippers, butter-soft and silent as they touched the stone floor. She made sure to dry her hair out, noticing how it shone red-gold in the flattering light of the candles, and took her time brushing it and styling it out of her face, so it fell flatteringly down her back. Her neck and most of her upper torso was bare but for the chain keeping the vial of water tucked safely against her breasts, the wide neckline of the dress dipping low enough to leave her collarbones bare, but she didn’t mind it. She was inside the Dark Castle, with the Dark One. She was safe there. On the road she always had to think about not attracting unwanted male attention. Here she rather felt like the opposite.

It was a silly infatuation, and many would argue any interest or desire on her part was due to the wizard’s power, which some would say was an aphrodisiac potent enough to make some look past the Dark One’s rather unfortunate exterior. No one would ever believe her if she confessed she rather… liked his appearance. The green-gold skin, the wild hair, the talons, but also the exquisitely-tailored pants and vests, the frothy cravats, the slim coats. A beast and a gentleman. A rather enticing combination, she had found.

She went downstairs into the trophy room once more, where two massive chairs were pulled up next to the roaring fireplace, the main source of light. The Dark One was sitting in one of them, a snifter gingerly held by a clawed hand, containing some sort of brown-gold liquid. He glanced at her the moment she entered the room, unwilling or unable to hide his appreciation for what he saw. He had removed his coat, leaving only his high-collared vest and one of his open shirts to cover his upper body, no forty cravat in sight. He seemed less guarded, more adventurous than he usually was when it came to matters of intimacy.

“You clean up well, dearie. Wish I could say the same for your dress. A wash will only do so much for it, but I refrained from throwing it into the fireplace. You’re welcome.”

“Good, as it’s not your property to destroy.” Beauty sat down, with a poise that betrayed her royal upbringing, and primly crossed her legs at the ankles. “So, Dark One, are you prepared to deal with me now?”

She had dealt with him dozens of times before, she had no idea why it all sounded so much like innuendo now. She couldn’t say she minded it.

“Of course, my dear. I’ve had time to think about our deal whilst you were splashing about in the tub.” His sing-songy voice broke, getting suddenly deeper for a second or two, as if he was struggling to retain his composure. “The vial is certainly a good start, but perhaps not quite enough. Now, I’m prepared to be generous given our long and fruitful history of dealmaking together, but I must also keep up certain appearances. So I thought I would also demand… an evening of your time.”

He tried to make it sound sinister, but she was past getting scared of him. At least in the traditional way. She raised an eyebrow, adopting a rather coquettish expression.

“And what would an evening of my time entail exactly?”

“Oh, well, you know. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

She made a show of thinking it over before offering her hand, which he shook without delay.

“It’s a deal.”

Several hours later she had won two games of chess, one game of checkers, and was sipping from her third coupe of sparkling wine as she listened intently to a story about a deal the Dark One had once made with a king from a distant land. He was a gifted storyteller, engaging and funny, knowing exactly when to pause or gesticulate to keep the flow of the story just right. The king in his tale was rather unfortunate, in the sense that his hubris and arrogance had led him to make a deal with the Dark One that he did not understand. Most of Rumplestiltskin’s deals seemed to be like that, Beauty thought. And when he came to collect people dared be indignant that he demanded what they promised in the first place.

“The king was furious. Never let go of the grudge. Hired several assassins to try and kill me. A waste of gold, of course.”

He let out a trilling laugh, which soon proved to be contagious. Somehow, over time, it felt like their chairs had moved closer, because if she stretched out a hand she could easily touch him. Odd.

“Serves him right, for making such an open-ended deal. What a rookie mistake.”

She didn’t recall removing her slippers but she must have, because her feet were enjoying being pressed against the soft cushion of the chair. He made a gesture for her to lean close, which was a bit of a balancing feat, but she managed. Her heart skipped a bit when he leaned close too, almost pressing his mouth against her ear.

“You have no room to talk, sweet. You struck a very vague deal yourself, committing to an evening of conversation, chess ‘and the like’. That little turn of phrase is an invitation to all manner of sins, even the darkest and most decadent of debaucheries.”

He hissed the last part, making her shiver. Not content with letting him have the upper hand she turned her head so their lips were inches apart.

“That’s what I was hoping for.”

She could tell she had shocked him into inaction. Cocky Dark One, always in control of the conversation, always one step ahead of everyone else. It was nice to see him floundering, to catch him unprepared. Finally he gulped and put a little distance between them.

“Aren’t you the bravest little poppet.”

“My mother always said ‘Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’ I’m a firm believer of the principle.”

Slowly, almost painfully so, both his hands clutched at the armrests of her chair, effectively pinning her to it. She knew she was supposed to be scared but she felt nothing but excitement, a buzzing just beneath the skin that made her strangely needy for something. Touch, perhaps, or more. The feeling was so overwhelming she did not realise at first that the laces of her dress were coming undone, as if invisible hands were painstakingly pulling them loose. She tried to make eye contact, but he ducked his head, pressing his face against the base of her neck, where it met her shoulder. She sighed, noticing how gentle he was, his touch feather-light, and discovering that she would not mind a rougher treatment. He was restraining himself, she realised, trying to be a gentleman. Sweet, but not what she wanted from him at that moment. Feeling bold Beauty carded a hand through his hair, pressing his face more firmly against her skin.

“Please, Rumple.”

Those two words seemed to have a magic of their own, producing a sudden and radical change in him. He moved too fast for her to see, wrapping her up in his arms and depositing her on the long dining table on the other side of the room. She did not know whether he used magic or simply moved inhumanly fast, but either possibility excited her, reminded her of the power of the creature looming over her, claws tugging at the unlaced bodice of her dress, dragging the velvet down to expose her undergarments. She was wearing the underbust corset he had provided over the snowy linen shift he had also left for her, so it was easy for him to simply tug the shift down a bit to expose her breasts. He leaned forward, nuzzling the space between her breasts, making a sort of satisfied purring noise as he sniffed up her clavicles and down her throat. Then, once he was happy with the level of squirming she was doing, he finally gave her what she wanted, closing his mouth, with all of its sharp teeth, around one of her rosy nipples. It was a strange feeling at first, more unfamiliar than pleasant, but when he began to suck it changed completely, little shocks of pleasure running from her nipple to between her legs. It was amazing, more than she had ever achieved with her own hands whenever she could get some privacy at night, and the feeling doubled when he grasped her untouched breast, his long claws estimulating the other nipple.

She sunk both her hands in his hair, fisting it in an effort to keep herself from squirming too much, feeling both aroused and impatient. She kept waiting for him to tire of her chest and move further down but when he was finally done sucking her nipples his head moved north, his lips blinding searching for hers till they were kissing. It wasn’t anything like any kiss she had experienced before, not even the unpleasant smack her former fiance had forced on her. Though it was just as forceful there was a wild quality to it, one she had never associated with the affectionate gesture. It was heavenly, the release of passion, far from cooling her down, setting her on fire, stoking her need for him till it felt like she would explode if he didn’t give her relief. 

He must have sensed it, her desperation calling to him like a siren song, because at some point he let go of her mouth to travel south, past her aching chest, and velvet-covered belly to where the skirts of her long gown kept her modestly covered. He wasted no time dragging the heavy fabric up, letting it pool around her hips along with the white linen of her shift. She did not have any other undergarments, having not been provided with any, so she was completely exposed to his gaze, from her milky things to her round hips. She squirmed, trying to picture what he must be looking at, the trim thatch of chestnut curls at the apex of her legs, obscenely drenched by this point and making a poor show of trying to hide the pink, glistening flesh beneath.

“What a lovely cunt you have.” His voice was dark, guttural, a monster trying to speak like a man. It thrilled her. “Let me drink from it, precious.”

He didn’t wait for her reply, choosing instead to simply bury his head against her flesh, his tongue rough and wide as it lapped at her field parting them to seek out the bundle of nerves that was throwing for attention. She arched her back, feeling like it was only her firm grip on her thigh and hip what kept her anchored to the table. She fell into a rhythm of sorts, her body seeking out something she could not find but his mouth striving to compensate, to give her what she needed. It was heavenly and seemed to last an eternity, the sensations building up till everything but them faded away, all sensations muted. She felt him move to, thrusting his hips against the edge of the table, making it rattle in a way that spoke of his sheer brute force. It was heady to have someone like Rumplestiltskin, who had always strived to don the mask of a gentleman around her, be so unhinged, so animalistic. More than anything it was that complete loss of control what drove her over the edge. She cried out, feeling her inner muscles coil and her senses spiral out of control, her orgasm leaving her dizzy. It seemed to last forever and not nearly long enough. She laid there for a while after the feeling passed, feeling satisfied and wanting at the same time. A few seconds later he also keened, slumping against her still-parted legs, his hair tickling the soft skin of her inner thighs.

They lay that way for what seemed like ages, while they scrambled to try and collect themselves. The afterglow did not feel awkward or uncomfortable, and it loosened up her tongue enough to venture out that she had hoped for an even more intimate act, a joining that was even deeper than what they had done.

 “A deal for such a prize would have to involve all my deepest secrets, my most valuable truths.” He paused, pressing his forehead against the silky inside of her thigh, like a penitent would. “One day, perhaps.”

...

“Do you want to meet? I think it’s time.”

The orgasm had mellowed him out, otherwise he was sure he would’ve at least panicked a little bit. But in the afterglow of what they had just shared, albeit virtually, a meeting did not seem like such a bad idea. In hushed voices they arranged the time and place, tomorrow at a café and bistro in Boston. Nice and public, for both their safety. They knew both lived near Boston, so it seemed natural to pick the city. The drive wasn’t too bad, and he hoped it wasn’t a great inconvenience to her either.

Reluctantly they said their goodbyes, both trying to prolong the moment a bit more till they were both close to nodding off. With a final, reluctant goodbye they both disconnected, leaving Gold to clean himself up and make his way home. With his rumpled suit, disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow it must have looked like the walk of shame. It certainly didn’t feel that way.

...

He woke up in a happy mood, perhaps the best in a long time. Far from feeling stupid or embarrassed about his little bit of roleplaying-turned-porn-session he felt smug, empowered by the notion that he had made a smart, desirable woman come with only his voice and imagination. He felt like he was on the brink of something, as if an exciting possibility was opening up for him. 

He went about his day with a bit of a spring in his step, though most citizens of Storybrooke would be pressed to notice. It was only when he saw the book on gardening he was due to return to the library that afternoon- his two Moth orchids had developed small water-soaked spots on the leaves and he had wanted to consult some verified sources instead of relying exclusively on Google search results- that his mood dampened somewhat. As nice as last night had been- bloody fantastic rather- it did make him sad, somewhat, to give up his crush on Belle French. However unattainable it was still nice to have it, that bit of feeling that did not need to be reciprocated to be real. It had been nice to feel something for someone for a change, to look forward to each smile and each small conversation. But it wouldn’t be right, and what he had now was more valuable in any case. Perhaps, with time, he would grow out of his infatuation with the librarian and they could be friends. That would be rather lovely.

He crossed the street towards the library around three o’clock, wanting to beat the rush caused by children being let off school, a busy time for one of the only kid-friendly places in Storybrooke. There were some patrons about, and the afternoon light made the library look truly beautiful. Miss French truly worked miracles with her limited budget.

He found her easily, shelving a few books in the poetry section, and tried not to preen when she smiled widely at him.

“Mr Gold, hi! Always a pleasure. Here to return a book?”

The librarian was always sunny and welcoming, but she looked even happier that day, an excited sort of energy practically rolling off of her in waves. Thank goodness he had decided to give up on his silly little crush, otherwise he might have buckled under the power of her brightness. 

“Yes. And you look particularly happy today, Miss French, if I might say so.”

The librarian smiled even more, if possible, and leaned close, as if to tell him a secret.

“I have a date tonight.”

It hurt, the slightest bit, the shock making him take a step back, but less than it would have yesterday. And perhaps, he reasoned, this would be good. This would put them both in the path of becoming friends, allowing him to leave his crush behind much faster. He forced himself to enquire politely after the lucky man, listening as she talked about someone she had been flirting with for a long time now, and it seemed like the relationship was finally ready for the next step.

“I’m really happy. And very nervous. It feels like such a risk, after all this time building something that could easily fizzle out with a first date. But I’ve always believed in doing the brave thing, and bravery will follow. It’s what my mother always said.”

She had turned back to shelve a book as she finished the last sentence, so thankfully she did not see his jaw drop and his eyes widen, his surprise so visible no one could’ve missed it. His heart lurched in his chest, sheer and sudden panic making it difficult to breathe. Fuck. Fuck. It wasn’t possible. Belle was Beauty. Belle was Beauty. He tried to contradict the notion in his head but he had known Beauty’s British accent was passable but fake, and it made sense for him not to have identified her voice when she usually spoke with her natural Australian drawl, something he associated so closely with her. Everything else he had ever found out about Beauty, in and out of the D&D setting, coincided with what he knew, or thought he knew, about the librarian, one of the reasons why he had developed a crush on her in the first place.

The initial shock was followed by a spike of elation and then a sinking feeling of dread. He needed to cancel. She would be disappointed, but more disappointed if he didn’t and she realised her crush was a man a good deal older than her that was known for being the town monster. It would be awkward and she would not be able to escape him after it, both doomed to meet each other often, given the small size of the town. He could not put her through that.

He stopped himself then, noticing the familiar dark turn of his thoughts, dipped in so much self-loathing it was almost stifling. And he wondered if he really was thinking about Belle or about himself. Being a coward, taking the easy way out. He thought about how he had woken up, the world full of promise and the future bright with the possibility of something great on the horizon. And how he had felt brave last night, to leap into something that had been so worth it. Perhaps it was time to be brave more often. Do something, however small. Put the ball in her court, somehow.

“I wish you the best of luck, then. Perhaps some other time, if you’re not too busy, you could pop into my shop. I have a few antique books I feel you would appreciate.”

It was a nice recovery, and he was happy to see her smile, apparently welcoming the proposition. Everyone knew Mr Gold’s shop was only to be entered when making deals. He didn’t really allow idle perusal of his stock and no one had the money or interest to buy his antiques. His business was conducted mostly with people from major cities on the East Coast.

“Wow, an open invitation to traipse into Mr Gold’s shop, that’s not something one sees everyday. What do you want in return? I hear only deals can grant you access to the shop.”

She made sure to make it clear she was joking, something he appreciated. Feeling emboldened by her kind gesture he adopted a slightly higher pitch and replied:

“Oh, nothing much. Companionship, perhaps a game of chess, some good wine, conversation and the like.”

Being close enough he got to see as it dawned on her, as her brain quickly processed what he had said and where she had heard it before. And he knew, knew because of the way she looked at him, as if she did not recognise him, as if he was a brand new person to her, that she understood the implication, what he had meant to tell her without actually telling her. 

“Hope to see you soon, then. Good luck with the date.”

He turned around before he could second-guess himself, feeling terrified by what he had exposed but satisfied at the same time. This way it was Belle’s choice to show up. For all she knew he had no idea that she was Beauty. She could make up an excuse and simply not meet her, and their worlds would never merge. If she did not want to pursue anything between them all she had to do is cancel the date, or not show up. He would respect her decision and never push for anything, or acknowledge their online relationship in the real world.

He sent her an email just as he was about to get into his car, letting her know that he understood that this meeting was a bit of a risk and he would understand if she backed out at the last minute. There were other things he could do in Boston, and he was not adverse to having dinner by himself. And they could still be friends, no matter what she decided. He was halfway to Boston when he heard his cell phone ping, letting him know he had a new email. As he expected, it was from Beauty:

“I’m on my way. Can’t wait to meet you! See you soon.”

He smiled.

[hermaeusmorasuggestion]

does mora have a taste for certain authors or genres? literal taste

In terms of genres, yes! It has an enormous sweet tooth, which is fortunate, because ever since this... incident a while ago we've been getting swamped with "Daedric Prince x Thinly Veiled Self-Insert" stories. They literally do not stop coming. Straight to my desk. Didn't know how many people wanted to take Meridia out on tasteful dinner dates, or go on daring nighttime escapades with Nocturnal, or get into very poetically intimate fistfights with Boethiah or—you get the idea. Not before, anyway. Now we have a much clearer estimate, and I have no idea what we're going to do with this information and I'm a little scared!

In terms of specific authors-

The works of the Great Honourable Waughin Jarth are "very filling". I think the fact that they've gained some status thanks to the work of Seeker David Gilbert has some sort of... metaphysical bearing on their taste? Very intriguing. Needs further investigation!

Something written about Mora Itself (Apocrypha, Apocrypha) made It laugh. I didn't ask what it tasted like, as a) It didn't tell me upfront and b) I don't fancy whacking seawater out of my ears for any longer than I must.

Crassius Curio's works taste like cheap beer, and slightly sweaty. Ick. That's a no on more of those, which sucks as a mysterious donor has given us many, many copies. If anyone has fun things to do with a lot of paper like origami or something, please send links!

The Truth In Sequence, Volume One: I allowed this one with the excuse that its material wasn’t parchment and ink, but that didn't end up having any effect on the 'taste'. Should've known not to feed It anything involving the Clockwork God, but I did not get this position by being "smart". However I have learned my lesson for the moment!

Unsure how exactly to convey what was conveyed to me when I reluctantly fed It my copy of the First Sermon of Vivec. Champagne? Pop rocks? I'm not sure I could translate it to an actual gustatory sensation, but yes, I am afraid that It has a taste for these. (Or maybe they’re so ‘tasty’ because of how dear that copy was to me personally? Needs further investigation... unfortunately.)

It took me a while because I had to write them out by hand, but apparently the drabbles of tumblr user @jiubilant taste "delightful" like a charcuterie board, a fic from @boethiah tasted "bodily, like a red wine, like blood and ebony", and I got halfway through transcribing another before my hand cramped (this job requires a lot of writing).

While I wait for my hand to come back from the brink of carpal tunnel, feel free to send in more authors—more data points means more time before it finds where I stashed the other 35 sermons.

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

The Melanie King Conspiracy

Pairings: wtgfs (mentioned/background)

Warnings: Blinding yourself (mentioned)

Spoilers up to the end of Season 4

Masterlist Ao3

This is my first fic for the tma fandom and first time writing in this style please cut me some slack. All spelling and grammatical errors (or most of them anyway) are on purpose to mimic a real group chat. Let’s hope I haven’t messed up the timeline to horribly :)

June 13, 2017

whathappenedtomelanieking: guys guys guys. you know how i was talking about that show Ghost Hunt U.K?

ijustworkhear: again with this? what about it

whathappenedtomelanieking: well, it went all weird like a year ago right? after that episode at the Cambridge Military Hospital. They all left one by one except for Melanie and then she went… crazy i guess. Freaked out, tryd to say she saw a ghost

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: its a ghost show…

whathappenedtomelanieking: yeh but she got really into it.more than ever before and everyone kind of knew it was fake

ijustworkhear: like those unsolved guys

whathappenedtomelanieking: yeah

whathappenedtomelanieking: anyway it sucked when Andy left but we had Melanie and that was fine

whathappenedtomelanieking: then she kept saying one of their camera people left then their sound until it was like melanie was the only one left

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: k… this matters why?

whathappenedtomelanieking: she got arrested

ijustworkhear: woah

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: jkjhjkhkghsjhk what

whathappenedtomelanieking: ikr? She broke into a junk yard up in Sheffield, says she got stabbed by a ghost or smth

 imnotjusthomointhesapienway: 🙄

whathappenedtomelanieking: lol yeah. shes really gone off the deep end. idk i just feel bad

ijustworkhear: yeah

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: so… that it? She’s in jail?

whathappenedtomelanieking: nah, they dropped the charges. she was actuallY in the hospital for a bit, hurt herself

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: breaking into a scrap yard at night… couldn’t be me

ijustworkhear: lol

*

January 24, 2018

placeholder: so…

imbeggingforausername: so…

imbeggingforausername: what’s up

whathappenedtomelanieking: 🙃

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: no we are not doing this shit again

imbeggingforausername: what is happening? Why’d you change your name?

whathappenedtomelanieking: Melanie’s back!!! (sort of)

imbeggingforausername: what

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: don’t ask

whathappenedtomelanieking: you ever heard of Ghost Hunk U.K.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @imnotjusthomointhesapienway rude

imbeggingforausername: not really… i know it went downhill in like 2016 tho

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: 😝

whathappenedtomelanieking: long story, ghosthunting show, melanie went off the rails and the grid for like a year (she was a host btw), and got arrested for breaking into a dump

imbeggingforausername: yikes

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: so what new incredible details have you uncovered now? (@imbeggingforausername this happens like every couple months when Jay thinks they have some new revelation).

whathappenedtomelanieking: HOW DARe!

whathappenedtomelanieking: anyway i was stalking her twitter and she was like posting stuff about being in India and shit and get this. She got shot!

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: let me guess. By a ghost

whathappenedtomelanieking: YES!!!

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: fucking...

whathappenedtomelanieking: Not even the best part… she’s back in London and you’ll never guess where she’s working now.

ijustworkhear: where

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: ayyyy!!! Sam’s here! help me

ijustworkhear: <3 

whathappenedtomelanieking: The Magnus Institute

ijustworkhear: k… cool

whathappenedtomelanieking: omg guys you don’t know what the Magnus INstitute is?

whathappenedtomelanieking: how are you my FRIENDS?

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: *sigh* tell us

whathappenedtomelanieking: they collect supernatural statements and “look into them” sounds like a piece of baloney to me, but you gotta pay the bills somehow i guess

imbeggingforausername: thought you believed in the supernatural

whathappenedtomelanieking: yeah, ghosts. The Magnus Institute pretends that there’s like evil books and stuff

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: and Melanie’s working there now? She has cracked

whathappenedtomelanieking: no kidding

ijustworkhear: maybe its for the best

imbeggingforausername: might be good for her

ijustworkhear: jinx!

imbeggingforausername: <3 i don’t know how to tell you this, but no

February 3, 2018

imbeggingforausername: @whathappenedtomelanieking

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been summoned

imbeggingforausername: You see what’s been up with Melanie King lately?

whathappenedtomelanieking: no… what’s going on?

imbeggingforausername: all these vagueposts about how much she wants to kill her boss, which like, mood but im worried shes serious

whathappenedtomelanieking: do tell

imbeggingforausername: she’s like “my boss is trapping me and all these people into working at the archives”

whathappenedtomelanieking: dude… really?

imbeggingforausername: really

imbeggingforausername: i thought it was funny at first, but… you know… you can only read so many posts about what eldritch horrors someone thinks is attacking them before you start to worry.

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been looking into the institute since Melanie joined, i was curios

whathappenedtomelanieking: their last head archivist was found in the tunnels beneath the institute shot three times and their latest archivist is on the run from the police for beating an old man to death with a pipe and probablt killing one of his assistants

imbeggingforausername: wtf

whathappenedtomelanieking: and they got this real bad worm infestation a while back, apparently it freaked one of them out so bad they lived in the archives for like 6 months

imbeggingforausername: How do you know this?

whathappenedtomelanieking: talked to the receptionist, her name’s Rosie, she’s very nice

whathappenedtomelanieking: she’s seen some weird shit. I think i might have seen Melanie but i didn’t talk to her

imbeggingforausername: I forget you live in London, any other weird things?

whathappenedtomelanie: don’t know how much is real, but yeah. 

whathappenedtomelanieking: she thinks some lady can control worms, there was this weird tall guy in Jon (that’s the archivist guy)’s office at one point and she never saw him leave (same with the lady giving Jon a statement), 

whathappenedtomelanieking: oh and Rosie didn’t tell me this one, but the head of the institute, can’t remember his name, came out of his office at one point and just stared at me

imbeggingforausername: creepy

whathappenedtomelanieking: ikr?

whathappenedtomelanieking: i left like right after that. I did ask if i could look in the archives, but no, you need some kind of degree or something

imbeggingforausername: a degree???? Are they serious???

whathappenedtomelanieking: they looked it, 🤷 i wasn’t going to push my luck, the old guy really freaked me out. It was like he looking into me

imbeggingforausername: what kind of degree would you even need??

imbeggingforausername: ooh weird

whathappenedtomelanieking: just saying, don’t think I’ll be going back for a while

imbeggingforausername: probably smart

October 25, 2018

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: @whathappenedtomelanieking i’m blaming you for getting me interested in this… but all your talking and theorizing about the Magnus Institute has gotten me interested

whathappenedtomelanieking: ooh, in listening

whathappenedtomelanieking: *I’m

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: I went up and talked to Rosie too (you were right she is v. nice) the head of the institute got arrested and the archivist is in a coma 

whathappenedtomelanieking: jesus, i feel like we’re uncovering a conspiracy just by being worried about an entertainer we enjoy… Maybe we should leave this alone?

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: i’m kind of getting that too

whathappenedtomelanieking: what about melanie tho?

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: idk, I asked Rosie about her and she just glanced around and then shook her head

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’ve been asking around on some forums and stuff, even emailed one of her old cameramen seems no one’s heard from her in upwards of a year and she’s barely been seen outside the institute

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: um…

whathappenedtomelanieking: genuinely getting worried, but… it’s her life i guess? idk...

October 20, 2019

whathappenedtomelanieking: WE WERE NOT WORRIED ENOUGH ABOUT MELANIE!!!!!!

ijustworkhear: what happened???

imbeggingforausername: wtf

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: did she kill someone or smth

whathappenedtomelanieking: I WAS JUST LISTENING TO WHAT THE GHOST AND GEORIGE MENTIONED MELANIE OFFHAND. I KNOW THEY HANG OUT SOMETIMES SO I CHECKED GEORGIE’S INSTAGRAM AND MELANIE WAS IN ONE OF THE PICTURES (they’re a couple btw, v. cute) SHE WAS BLIND!!!! LIKE PROPERLY!! IT LOOKED LIKE SHE’D BEEN STABBED IN BOTH EYES!!!

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: jesus wtf

ijustworkhear: omg, she’s okay though

imbeggingforausername: damn…

whathappenedtomelanieking: i mean… she’s blind… probably not having a great time, but she looks happy

imbeggingforausername: 🤷 it’s not like she died

whathappenedtomelanieking: i’m not saying its bad she’s blind Erin, just that i’m worried about how it happened. 

whathappenedtomelanieking: she was working at that fucking weird institute (you know, ever since i went there i have this feeling like i’m being watched constantly)

imnotjusthomointhesapienway: yikes

October 31, 2019

1:35 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: guys i think something happened…

1:40 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: guys?

whathappenedtomelanieking: @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @ijustworkhear @imbeggingforausername

2:01 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: please answer me i’m freaking out

whathappenedtomelanieking: i can’t find anyone 

whathappenedtomelanieking: please

whathappenedtomelanieking: mt hasds arw shaking so bd i can;t type

whathappenedtomelanieking: there;s noone herre

whathappenedtomelanieking: please

2:23 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername

3:56 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername

4:47 p.m.

whathappenedtomelanieking: @ijustworkhear @imnotjusthomointhesapienway @imbeggingforausername

Any similarities to actual usernames weren’t intentional (although I am really proud of “I’m only homo in the sapien way”). 

@whathappenedtomelanieking was lost in the Lonely in the Eyepocalypse in case I didn’t make that clear enough.

Feel free to ask about my writing or ask to be added to my taglist. Stay safe :)