#not out of the blue soulless commands

[cheerfullycatholic]

Hmm methinks that only telling people "that's a sin, repent and believe in Christ" is the opposite of helpful

I think how it's worded is important too, but that's not the point of the post

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Soft!Dom!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole. Smut (p in v), Stepcest, Cuckold, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, mommy kink, breeding kink, Sub!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Reader, pregnancy

Part 1:

You were absolutely livid when your mother brokered a marriage contract for you. A marriage between you and General Crassus Snow. Oh gods, how you wanted to puke. He was so much older than you. Like he's a man that's at least 50 if not 60. He's at least a good 30 years older than you.

Just the thought makes you want to cringe. And when you called your brother, Rein, to plead for his help he refused. He's an officer in the peacekeepers based in 12 and he didn't want to ruin his future by getting on the bad side of General Snow. Especially since Commander Hoff highly respected General Snow, who had been the commander in District 12 before he took it over.

So without a way out of your marriage, you're stuck with General Snow. Or Crassus as the cold, sinister old fuck insists you call him once you're moved into the grand penthouse he shares with his mother, Grandma'am, and his son, Coriolanus.

The name sounded familiar to you, but you just shoved the notion away. It's not like his son, who was in his last year at the University, was home much to worry about him. Or at least that's what Crassus said.

So one night while sitting in the main room with Grandma'am and Crassus, who was so cold and hard-hearted that it scared you, you're surprised to see Coriolanus Snow, your soon to be step-son, walk into the room. You also weren't expecting him to be so handsome. Coriolanus was a younger and more attractive version of his father, Crassus. Also, his eyes weren't dead and hateful. Yes, Coriolanus had the shame icy blue eyes that his father had, but his still had a soul shining in them. That much you could see.

Coriolanus' brow rose as he saw you sitting with his Grandma'am and across from his father, who’s nursing a Scotch on the rocks while waiting for dinner to be served, whenever he enters the main room of the penthouse he's been avoiding ever since Tigris moved out into her own place a few months earlier. Coriolanus doesn't remember your name, but he remembers your face from the Academy. You're his age, maybe even a year or so younger, if he remembers correctly.

“Father, you seriously can't be marrying her. She's too young for you.”

“She is a tad bit young, isn't she?” Crassus mockingly asked his son. Looking between you and his spitting image, the cruel General sickly smirks, “But Y/N reminds me so much of your mother at that age. And I’d be a fool to turn down a young, beautiful, wet, tight cunt to give me the heir I deserve.”

“Crassus…” Grandma'am chastised her soulless son, earning her a sharp glare from him.

“Mother, I advise you to stop taking up for the useless boy. My son's weak, always was and always will be.”

But from your point of view there wasn't anything weak about Coriolanus. Nope. Not one bit. He was tall with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a chiseled jawline, a prominent nose, and large hands that looked both strong and gentle at the same time. He looked like he was carved from the images of the ancient gods themselves

Your wedding wasn't a high end affair. It was modest, but classy. Only the elite were invited. Even your older brother, Rein, was able to get leave to attend your wedding. His girl from District 12 wasn't allowed to come. You thought your brother was a piece of shit for not fighting harder to bring her or for coming without her, but he snapped right back that he couldn't risk his future for some coal dust covered pussy. That your new husband could open doors for him and his career.

And when your reception got to be too much, you found yourself on the terrace of the fancy hotel/ballroom your wedding was being held at. Your life was over before it truly begun.

“You're going to get that dress of yours dirty sitting on the patio like that.” Coriolanus’ deep, elegant timbre sounded out from right behind you.

Looking over your shoulder at the tall young man with striking blue eyes, which held concern in them, and platinum blonde curls, you sigh, “I don't care, Coriolanus.”

“Well, you should care. Tigris worked hard on your dress.” He retorted, coming up to your side and taking a seat next to you. Pulling silver cigarette case and matching lighter out of his blazer pocket, Coriolanus stated, “You feel like your life's over being ball and chained to the hateful old goat, huh?”

“He's your father, Coriolanus. You shouldn't call him a hateful old goat.” You chastised your new, but handsome, stepson with a melancholic tone in your voice.

Oh, why couldn't your mother have brokered an arranged marriage with the Snow son. You'd much rather be married to Coriolanus than Crassus.

“He's my father, so I can call him a hateful old goat.” Coriolanus replied, cigarette dangling between his lips, as he lit up his smoke. Putting his case and lighter back into his pocket, only to take his first drag of his smoke, he sincerely told you, “You don't deserve to be married to such a cruel man. You're too young and beautiful to be wasted on the likes of him.”

You didn't say a word, just gave him a curious look. A look which caused him to give you a thin line of a smile before offering to share his smoke with you- to help calm nerves.

And that was the beginning of something for forbidden between you and Coriolanus.

For all his big talk, Crassus was useless in bed. He, for a lack of a better word, couldn't get his dick up. He even chewed on the special blue pill, but sometimes that didn't even work. And all you were was a warm, tight hole- a fleshlight for him to fuck and rut into. You got no pleasure out of fucking him.

Before or after you said I do.

But you did find pleasure somewhere else. In the arms of your stepson, in fact. As sick and twisted as it sounds, you found solace in fucking Coriolanus. Coryo, as he insisted you call him once you started fucking around behind his father's back.

Although it's taboo in the eyes of society, hell the nation of Panem, it feels right. You and Coryo are of similar age, find each other very attractive, and get along well. Despite what you two have being considered wrong, being stepcest, neither one of you’s going to end your affair.

An affair that's happening in the Snow family penthouse right underneath General Snow's nose. But he's not bright enough to figure it out.

No…

“Fuck…” Coryo groaned, his long fingers digging into your hip bone as you rode his cock. “Mommy, your pussy feels so good…” He nearly pants, kneading your breast with his large hand as he felt your cunt squeeze his cock.

“Your big cock feels so good too, baby.” You whine, bringing your hand to rest on top of Coryo's large one that's on your hip while using your other one to balance yourself by resting your palm on your stepson’s firm chest. “So good.” You sigh, lifting yourself up and quickly sinking down onto the girthy 8 inches that's deliciously stretching out your cunt.

The platinum blonde, whose curls are like a halo around his head, gives you a lustful look with his cerulean eyes. “Mommy, I wanna suck your titties.” He whines, baritone husky, but submissive.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow, the son of the almighty General Crassus Snow, was a sub in bed. A sub with a mommy kink. It was something you discovered the first time he fucked you and, although it stunned you to discover that someone so tall, large, and manly in every sense of the word was not dominant at all between the sheets and wanted ‘mommy’ to boss him around, you didn't shame him for it. Instead, you embraced his kink. Your situation’s already twisted, might as well add in the Dom/Sub mommy kink element to it too.

Coryo felt safe enough with you to share his desires, kinks, and fantasies. Unknown to everyone, his confidence and bravado was a well worn mask and underneath it he's just an insecure boy. But with you, well, he's able to feel needed and like he matters.

And him sharing his mommy kink with you gives you a sense of control in your otherwise uncontrollable life. Being dominant in bed helps you deal with your life as much as it helps Coriolanus deal with his.

You and Coryo have a safe word in play in case he can't handle something, but so far he's never used it. Truth be told, you're a bit of a soft dom to him. But he enjoys it. He enjoys anything you give him.

Grabbing his platinum blonde curls in your hands, you roughly pulled Coryo up towards your breasts. “Then suck on mommy’s titties, baby.” You order, causing him to latch his lips onto your nipple.

Your back arched from the feelings Coryo was coaxing from your body. The feeling of his large cock hitting the special spongy spot deep inside of you every time you spear yourself down onto him paired with the feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple had you feeling euphoric. Coryo was blessed with a magical tongue. Whether it was kissing, eating your cunt, or sucking your nipples, his wet muscle always made you pant and quiver.

You literally begin to quickly bounce up and down of Coryo's cock, causing the mattress springs to loudly creak in the dead of the night, as you desperately chase your high. Coryo bites your nipples, only to soothingly run his tongue over the stinging rose bud. Your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“Mommy, please, I wanna cum…” The platinum haired angelish devil of a boy beneath you begs as his hips desperately buck up. He's beginning to feel his release build up and he wants permission to cum.

Permission you won't give him, because you have to cum first.

“Not yet, Coryo. Mommy has to cum first.”

“But, please Mommy. I need to cum so bad.” He whinily begs, eyes pathetically looking up at you while his chin's perched in your cleavage, causing his head to bounce up and down with every movement you make.

“I said no, Coryo. Now be a good boy and stop begging; take what you're getting.” You sharply snap, all the while rocking your hips as you straddle his dick.

“But mommy-” Coryo began to whine, once again, only for you to shut him up by wrapping your hand around his throat and roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.

His icy blue eyes were blown as dark as midnight with lust as you choked his neck, not hard enough to cut off his breathing, but just enough to punish his bratty behavior as a sub.

“Don't be a selfish brat, Coryo. You know mommy cums first.” You tell him in a tight tone, that's a bit rougher than usual, as you continue to fuck yourself on his large cock as he lays on the bed- a look of pure pleasure spread across his face.

You continue to hold him down by the neck as your tight, wet cunt clenched around his large, veiny cock, causing Coryo's to whimper and whine with the desperation to cum. Oh, the feeling of your warm, wet, pussy around his aching cock’s too much. Too much to handle and he just has to cum.

Coryo feels like your motions and movements have been nothing but teasing; have done nothing, but rile him up and make him feel like he's going to explode any minute with both madness and pleasure.

“Please, mommy, I need to cum. Don't make me hold back anymore.” The almighty Coriolanus began to cry as he struggled to hold back his orgasm as you rode his cock harder and faster than before.

Your hand was still wrapped around his throat and that didn't help matters out, since it was a turn on for him- seeing your blood red nails wrapped around his pale throat and lightly resting on his windpipe. His hips bucked up frantically and he panted as he attempted to rebel and chasing his high. But you needed to cum first, it was one of the rules established between you and Coryo for the Dom/Sub play. Despite how desperate Coryo seemed, you had to cum first and you had to give him orders to help you get there.

“Rub mommy’s clit, baby boy. If you really want to cum, rub mommy's clit just the way you know she likes it.” You order your lover, holding back a moan as you feel his tip hit your cervix just right.”

Coriolanus quickly nodded his head, causing his sweaty platinum curls to rustle against his pillow, before bringing his hand to where the two of you’re connected, only to run fast and hard circles into your clit.

“Let me cum in your cunt, tonight. Please, mommy, let me knock you up.” Coryo told you, his voice thick with lust a bit softer than usual.

Your breath hitched as you felt both the weight of his words and the intense pressure of your upcoming release hit you. All you could do was shake your head and half-moan, “You can't, Coryo. I’m married…” Even tho you didn't say the words to your father, they hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

“But don't you want a baby, mommy?” Coryo asks, the hand that was on your hip gliding over to your lower stomach. Slowly stroking your lower belly while pressing quick and sloppy circles into your swollen clit, the platinum blonde below you says, “Let me give you a baby. Please, mommy, nobody has to know it's mine.”

“Coryo…” You gasp, feeling the right know of pleasure inside of you getting ready to unravel.

“You'll look so beautiful, full of my seed. Oh, mommy, please, let me knock you up tonight.” Coryo pleaded his case once more as he lay beneath you, at your mercy since he's your sub.

If you say no and got off of him after you cum then he'll have no choice, but to cum on his stomach (which is what the agreement’s been between you two since your affair started). But if you take pity on him and agree to letting him cum inside of your pussy, to fill your womb with his seed, then he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Coryo feels your cunt clamp around his cock and he knows you're about to cum. He's getting his teeth, holding back his own release, as your movements above him grow more frantic. “Please, mommy, let me give you the one thing that hateful old goat can't. Let me give you a baby.”

You're too far gone down the rabbit hole by this point in your life to say no. You're already fucking your stepson in an illicit affair, might has well have a baby too. Nobody’ll know. It'll be a dirty little secret between you and Coryo.

“Yes, yes, Coryo.” You moan out as you cum hard around Coriolanus’ dick. “Cum in mommy’s cunt; knock me up.” You breathlessly order as your juices messily run down your thighs and onto his.

Your hand that's wrapped around Coryo's remains there as he thrusts his hips up one, two, three times. You gently run your thumb over his Adam's apple as you feel him shoot ropes of his thick, hot seed deep into your womb.

Leaning your face down, you whisper against Coryo's lush lips, “You're mommy’s good baby boy, Coryo.”, before kissing him.

Coryo whimpered into the kiss before needily pressing his lips against yours. He could never get enough of your lips on his. He craves your kisses like a parched man craves water.

“I do love being your good baby boy.” Coryo tells you, his breath a mere whisper against your lips, as he breaks off your kiss to let you catch your breath.

Coryo's softness in your sex life is something that you greatly appreciate. Especially since your husband's so rough when he does manage to get his dick up long enough to do something. Coriolanus being soft in bed, but cunning and calculating out in the world with his studies at the University and his social affairs just shows you how versatile your lover is.

Oh, why couldn't he be your husband?

“Will you stay with me tonight, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you gingerly get off of him and take the empty spot on the mattress next to him.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “You know I can't, even tho I want to.”

“One day we'll be able to be together, my love. You'll see.” He sadly smiles, pulling you to cuddle with him for just a few moments.

Moments that are very precious to both of you.

A month later when you miss your period, you just know that you're pregnant. And when you go to the doctor to confirm your suspicions, you're given both a blood and urinary test. And the results for both are positive.

It's easy to make your husband, Crassus, believe that the baby's his since you drug him with sleeping pills whenever you fuck your lover, Coriolanus. And you know without a doubt that the baby belongs to Coriolanus since when you're stuck fucking Crassus it ends as soon as it begins due to his little blue pill problem.

Grandma'am’s shocked to hear that she's going to have another grandbaby. In fact, she made a remark about how she always thought she'd become a great-grandmother instead of a grandmother again. That remark had Coriolanus' smirking.

Tigris, your neice-in-law, congratulated you when she heard the news, but the look on her face was anything but happy. In fact, she looked a bit worried for you.

Crassus didn't seem overjoyed about your pregnancy. No, he just acted like it was your duty to give him a child. He even made a remark about how the baby better be a son or else he’ll hide it away somewhere- give it up. That remark made Coriolanus mad. He literally got into a fight with his father over it.

Thank the gods, the doctor told you that the baby's a boy. So you don't have to worry about Crassus taking the baby away from you. But you know deep down in your heart of hearts that Coryo would never let his evil old bastard of a father do that to your baby.

To Coriolanus’ baby.

Grandma'am seemed happy to be having another grandson and told you all about how she named her sons, Crassus Xanthos and Cadmus Xanthos, and how the traditional of the male Snow heirs having the initials CXS has been implemented by your husband, Crassus, whenever he named his own son Coriolanus Xerxes Snow. Of course, you assured your mother-in-law that your baby would have a name worthy of a Snow.

Crassus didn't seem to care about the pregnancy or discussing baby names. He just told you that you better fulfill your duty of birthing him a healthy son. He also told you to figure out a name for the baby; that he's too busy as the Minister of National Security to worry about such things.

And since it's your job to figure out a name, you decided to enlist some help from Coryo.

“Do you want me to name the baby? I know he doesn't care about you or what you name our son, but I care.” Coryo tells you one night as you cuddle with him in bed. He's got a protective hand over your belly, always taking his role in it's life very seriously.

The ‘he’ Coriolanus refers to is his father; your husband, Crassus. Neither one of you use his name anymore. It's easier to talk about him, deal with him and his communist rule over the Snow family that way. And right now he's out stone cold in the bed your suppose to share with him since you spiked his nightcap with sleeping pills. It's something you've been doing a lot lately in order to spend more time with Coryo.

“You want to name the baby?” You ask, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.

Coryo smiles, only to say, “He's my son, of course I want to name him.”

“Then you can name him.” You tell the platinum blonde with the halo of curls, giving him a soft smile before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I have the perfect name in mind, mommy.” Coryo kisses your head, his timbre a soft rasp, as he gently strokes your belly. He flinches slightly as he feels the baby kick against his hand. “He kicked me, Y/N.” Coryo smiled in awe, his baby blues shining with pride.

“He’s saying ‘hello daddy’.” You tell your lover, causing him to smile and tell you the name he wants to give your son.

Crassus was too busy working to be bothered by the birth of the newest Snow heir. Coryo on the other hand missed his University classes to be by your side while you gave birth. He held your hand and whispered reassuring words to you through your entire labor.

Since your husband wasn't around, your stepson was given the honor of cutting the cord. The doctor and the nurses didn't say a word, but they did share some looks that implied they thought something fishy was going on between you and Coriolanus.

After everything’s said and done, Crassus comes to visit you and the baby in your hospital room. You're resting in your bed and Coryo's sitting by your bedside with your newborn son in his arms.

“I see you're still alive.” Is how Crassus greets you. A greeting that earned him a cold, narrow eyes look from Coriolanus.

“Yes, Crassus.” You nod. “I'm still alive.”

Looking at his son's, one nearing the end of his University career and the other a few hours old, Crassus makes the observation of, “Coriolanus, I see your bonding with your baby brother.”

A smirk appears on Coryo's otherwise stoic face as he tells his hateful father, “I love him as if he was my own.” Looking between you and Crassus, Coryo adds in, “Mommy let me help her name him.”

Crassus raised a brow, giving his eldest an odd look. The old man couldn't help, but wonder when Coriolanus started to call you mommy. Maybe he'll ask his mother, Grandma'am, about it. Surely she'd know more about the milestones you and his son are making them he does. He is, after all, working to make the nation of Panem a place of order, a place where the Capitol shines and the Districts are kept under an iron thumb.

Looking down at the bundle of joy held lovingly and protectively in his arms, a baby boy with wisps of whitish blonde hair and big bright icy blue eyes, Coriolanus reveals the name of the newest Snow heir to his father.

“Cassian Xandros.”

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[skywalkoverme]

𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫: One Shot

SPOILERS FOR EP 3!

𐙚 Anakin Skywalker x Fem! Reader 𐙚 18+ MDNI

Summary: Forced to fight your master.

Warnings/contains: breath play, dom! male, sub! fem, master/padawan, forced submission, finger fucking, choking, hair pulling, not proof read-- english is not my first language!

a/n: Warning for breath play again!!!

Word Count: 1.9k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

*Debriefing at the Jedi Temple.*

Anakin arrived late. He stood at the entrance of the door, his arms folded. When you spotted him, you quickly ran to his side. “Haven’t seen you all day. Where ya been at?” You asked quietly as the Masters spoke.

He didn’t bother looking down at you. “Is that important?”

You quickly shook your head. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Go back inside the room, [Y/n].”

You quickly snapped your head towards him. He rarely called you by your name, it was either your nickname or something sweet like it. Although you wanted to stay beside him, something pulled you back towards the center of the room. From beside Obi-wan, you snuck glances at Anakin; However, it was hard to read his expression due to the shadow that hid his face. But you could feel it— his gaze as it ran over each of the masters, their padawans…and you. The hair on the back of your neck stood up as his focus narrowed.

The meeting soon concluded and in a blink of an eye, Anakin was gone again. “Somethings wrong, Master.” You whisper to Obi-wan.

“I know.”

“…what’s gonna happen? I need to know.” Obi-wan folded his arms, reading your expression. You were far too emotional to hear the truths they were discovering about the chancellor and your Master, Anakin Skywalker. “Don’t leave me out.”

“It’s not my decision.” You swallowed your spit. “Think before you speak.” Before you could say anything back, he pointed to the door. “Take a walk, get some rest.”

You pushed open the doors to the courtyard and stormed out of the building. How dare they?! ‘Obviously, Master is going through something!’ You thought as you stomped on twigs and dried leaves. How dare they not tell you? Never have you felt so left out, confused…hurt. You sat under the gazebo, holding your cheeks, your knees below your head.

That night in bed, you left all the doors open, as well as the windows. You lay on your back; gentle exhales left your lips as the night turned over into the wee hours of the morning. The white sheets stuck to your skin as you tossed in your bed, asleep yet bothered. Your fingers sunk through your hair and to your scalp.

You could hear a heartbeat; it sounded like a rhythmic warning, a soulless chant.

“Stop!” You quickly ignited your lightsaber, holding it over your head to block your master’s strike. Your heart pounded louder as he pushed down harder. His eyes dead from beneath the shadow of his cloak. “Master!” He drew back before striking again. You pushed yourself off the bed. His saber came down on your bed, cutting through the layers of cotton and springs. You didn’t have time to process how much strength he must have put into the strikes. “Anakin! Stop!” A whimper left your lips. “What are you doing?! Master!”

“Be still.” He commanded.

“What are you doing?!” He raised his lightsaber to you once more, quickly cornering you before bashing down in quick succession to tire you. Cutting through the dark room, the green and blue sabers gave you quick glances at his face. With every defensive maneuver, you found yourself closer to the ground. “Anakin! Please!” You screamed, looking for the nearest exit. From the corner of your eye, you spotted your second lightsaber. “Why are you doing this?” You ask softer as he pressed down onto your blade.

“I need to.”

“No, no, you don’t!” Your right fist knocked him in the cheek, pulling his hood off. Anakin took a moment to clench his jaw. Across the room, you snatched your second saber from your sheets. “Anakin, I don’t know what’s happened to you but trust me. Please? I can help!”

“I- I’ve already…done too much. I will not be forgiven.”

You quickly shook your head. “I forgive you. Just please: don’t fight me.” He slowly stepped to you. “Anakin.” When he ignited his saber again, you moved back and did the same. “What did you come here to do?” You asked, more heartbroken than you even realized.

“Jedi are so close minded…you are weak and need to be exterminated.”

“What are you saying? You’re a Jedi! You’re my Master! Anakin Skywalker.”

He shook his head and drew his hood back over his brown curls. “You are lost.” Your eyebrows furrowed as he traded his lightsaber to the other hand. Without much struggle, he grabbed a fistful of your hair. “Drop them.” He held the saber to your neck and brought you to your knees. Sweat ran down your forehead, bosom and hands. He tucked the hilts of your sabers on his belt. “If you try to do something slick, I will kill you. If you try to run, I’ll kill you.” You nodded; your brown eyes glared up at him. Your fists balled in frustration, and confusion, but you looked helpless. “You look furious.” Blue light from his weapon shone on your skin, slightly purple. “…it suits you.”

“You’re the chosen one. How could you?!”

“You misunderstand.” He kneeled beside you, his body pressed against yours; Anakin’s fingers were buried in your hair, pulling back so you could look him in the eye. “I am going to restore peace. The Jedi way has failed you as well as the republic.” You shook your head. “You aren’t my padawan any longer, but I’ll give you a tip.” You listened when he pulled tighter, his saber nearly against your skin. You could feel the heat of his saber and his body completely envelop you. “If someone has your life in their hands, be a good girl.” You exhaled sharply, looking up into his eyes. Anakin bit his lip, taking a few shameless glances at your physique. He slowly pressed his lightsaber against your skin.

“A- AHH!” He left a burn line on your skin.

“Breathe. It’s just a mark.” Huffs left your lips as you reached for your neck. “Aht! No.” His grip on your hair was tight as he pulled you back. Once more, the lightsaber went close to your skin. Your eyes shifted to his hand, scarred and tightly around the hilt; his blue veins shifted with the pure anger that coursed through him.

“Don’t kill me.” Your voice was a whisper; those pleading, beautiful eyes of yours refused to leave his alone.

“That is not how the Sith work. I ‘must’ kill you.” He said with a chuckle. With a quickness, you snatched your saber from his belt.

Anakin gripped the front of your throat, your back against his chest. “S- I can’t-” You gasped for air, and he loosened his grip—slightly.

In your two hands, you gripped the hilt. “You aren’t going to hurt me.” With every exhale, your head grew light, your vision blurred. “Don’t pass out just yet.” His grip alternated between tense and soft, “There you go~” The sweat from your pores ran down your forehead, back and arms. Anakin’s head pressed against yours, his warm breath on your temple. With every release he gave you, you took in as much oxygen as you could which didn’t help. If anything, it made your vision blurrier. “Tell me to stop.” His lips grazed your face. “Say it.” A pathetic moan left your lips as you fought the high. Your lightsaber began to slip from your grip, the tip burned into the rug beneath you. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried, weakling. Isn’t that right?” Strained from his grip, you nodded.

Hair stuck to your skin, wet with sweat and frizzy from the humidity. Anakin glared to his left; your room’s mirror reflected your weakness. You hadn’t noticed your feet that dangled above the ground or the saber you once held, now on the rug. “Look at how far you’ve come.” His every word filled your mind; each syllable bounced off the walls of your conscience. “Don’t you dare give up, [Y/n].” The curve of your ass pressed on his belt; your hands reached for his. From your sleep shorts, you could feel your heat rise to the pit of your stomach. Quickly, you pressed your thighs together.

You’ve known for years that violence made him hard. On the trips back to Coruscant, you could see his bulge from under his robes after a battle. As the years went on, he would put less effort into hiding it.

Your struggled moans fueled his arousal, the feel of your heartbeat under his flesh; as it slowed, he groaned helplessly. Again, he started the cycle: letting you get a couple of breaths before grabbing your throat tightly. “I haven’t…had to chance to play with one of your kind in a long time.” A confused whimper left your lips. “From your system, Idiot. Staying professional all these years… ‘Padawan, this’. ‘Padawan, that’.” His nose dragged up your neck, into your hair. “Don’t act innocent. I know what you write in that little journal.” He nodded towards your bedside. “I’m a hot topic.”

Anakin released you, letting you fall onto the ground. He kicked your fallen saber out to the balcony where you couldn’t reach. You held your throat, forcing yourself to cough. When he turned his back to you, you pushed yourself towards the door. “Where are you goin’?” Once again in his grip, he pushed you up against the wall. Now in both his hands, you faced him.

“P- please, Master. Just leave me.”

Anakin shook his head. “Seems you don’t want me to.” Your legs wrapped around his hips. “Your sweat…smells like fear. In all its forms.” He took a long glance at your now exposed pussy from the side of your shorts.

Your hands pushed at his face, covered his eyes. His fleshy digits ran up and down your slit. “Oh? Where’s your protest?” His fingers teased your throbbing clitoris. “I asked you a question.”

“I- I won’t fight you.”

“Because this is what you want?” You didn’t answer and Anakin pressed the front of your throat with his metal hand. “You were so vocal earlier.” He shook his head, leaning in close to you. Your noses touched as his fingers slowly pressed into you.

Such tense blue eyes glared at you, admiring the way your breasts moved with each body roll, judging your gasps--- “I- I’m tired.” You whimpered. “You just tried to kill me! Y- you’re insane!”

“Do you really think I’m insane?” He asked as he read your lewd expression.

“You don’t care what I think.” You struggled out.

He does. “I don’t. You’re right.” He licked his messy fingers before pushing them back inside of you.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed! Mwah <3 I think I'll stick to lace dividers! They're so cute!

Word Count: 1.9k // More on my Master list! + follow & reblog pls

[lopsicle]

We’ll Take Care Of You

TickleTober Day 8, Exposed Body Part

Characters: Lee! Vox, Ler! Velvette, Ler! Valentino (Romantic, polycules give me life), Zestial (Background/Implied Zestmilla).

Summary: Vox gets injured during a fight with other overlords; Vel and Val help treat his injuries.

Warnings: Fighting, Blood, injuries, scars, Valentino.

•••

Blood. Vox couldn’t tell from where it was pouring, his whole body felt like it was trying to rip itself apart, the distinctive sting in his abdomen clued him in though. The way his leg wobbled beneath him also wasn’t a good sign, he couldn’t keep himself supported for long, his knees hit the pavement. Fuck, why was there broken glass there’s?! Oh right, from his screen. It has been shattered, a large, ugly crack covering his right eye.

He might’ve convinced himself he was on a bad trip with the way his sight was glitching out, different shapes and colours all buzzing in his vision, much like the ones you’d see flashing on an error screen, worsening his throbbing headache. Weakly, a swarm of wires emerged from behind him, crackling with electricity. He lunged his arm forward, commanding them to ram into his assailant, who side stepped easily.

“Thou hath grown weaker since the disappearance of The Radio Demon.” Zestial commented, making his screen flash with a furious, cyan blue brilliance. Vox’s eyes shot open, well, his one good eye did, Zestial had created a sizeable crack over his over one.

“Tell me, art I noht worthy enough to be a challenge to thou?” Zestial asked, his lanky figure looming over Vox, seeming much bigger than it ever had before. Vox stares up at those soulless, toxic, feeling much like a fly caught in Zestial’s web.

“Jesus, y-you proved your point..” Vox managed to muster enough strength to speak, though it was muffled beneath all his static and glitching. Zestial tilted his head, leaning down to examine Vox, his suit torn with sweet, blue liquid pouring from his wounds, face destroyed and humiliated. Zestial smiled and returned to his full height.

“It appears that I have. I hope this serves as a reminder to thou of whom the real overlords of this realm are. Do not think about spitting poison in the direction of Carmilla again in my presence.” Zestial warned him, though Vox wasn’t listening. His audio receptors were too clogged with his own blood. It was only when Zestial began to walk away, leaving the shivering, pained man behind that he reached for his phone with upmost need, even if his movements were weak and limp, like a skeleton clinging to their own grave. A ringing filled the silence around him, answered almost immediately.

“Vox, where-fuck, what happened to you?! Where are you?!” Velvette bellowed on the other end, her stern look boiling away to concern. Vox squinted at her with his good eye and smiled, relaxing his muscles, not having any remaining strength in his body.

“Hey Vel,” his voice came out uncharacteristically weak and tiny, “you look beautiful.” He mumbled, Velvette’s worried, frantic cries for an explanation fading away as his world blinked into darkness.

When Vox came to, he felt like shit. Not as shitty as before, there were no burning pains in his body, just mostly sore. The world around him felt soft and a quick glance around revealed him to be back in his room, though it looked a little different. On his bedside drawer were various types of bandages, cotton balls and ointments, iodines, peroxides and such, along with some medicine and…was that a card? Vox squinted at it. “Get Well Soon,” apparently from his assistant Papermint. Well, that didn’t explain why he was here-

Oh right. The fight. Ugh, did Velvette really see him like that, all injured and gross and sappy? Vox sighed at the thought, before pulling up the covers slightly to take a look at his body. His thigh had been thoroughly bandaged up, so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until now. His shoes and shirt were gone, revealing a good few scars littered across his torso, precise and thin. Zestial’s nails. That fucking eight legged was freak was going to get what was coming to him, Vox was sure of that at least. He didn’t have long to linger on the thought though, due to the sound of incoming footsteps heading for his room.

“God dam it Valentino, he’ll be fine, he just needs rest!” Velvette screeched.

“Bullshit, he’s been out for a whole day, our novio is strong, he would’ve pulled through by now.” There was a small part of Vox that was resentful that he had indeed woken up and that Val was about to be proven right. His door clicked upon, Valentino’s imposing figure stood next to Velvette’s short one. Valentino’s coat was gone, letting his wings breathe freely, wearing nothing but a comfortable dark tracksuit beneath. Velvette’s hair wasn’t styled at all, simply left to hang freely, a style that Vox found gorgeous. Valentino just smirked confidently at Vox though it was aimed at Velvette, who just stared flabbergasted, before breaking into a relieved smile.

“Really picked an inconvenient time to wake up, didn’t you?” Vel commented, a rare sound of softness in her tone as she approached Vox; Valentino in tow.

“You know me, Vel, I always show up in places I’m not wanted,” Vox smirks, trying to regain some of the confidence he had lost from that humiliating defeat. He could pretend for now. Valentino leaned down next to his bed side, stroking his hand at the top of Vox’s TV head. At this distance, Vox could see through the tint of his red-sunglasses, his eyes were full of clear relief and love.

“You had us worried, hermoso.” He said in a tone that made Vox shiver, not used to Valentino being so affectionate. “Christ, Vel was a mess when she came to me.”

Velvette huffed. “Well excuse me, Vox was talking like he had one foot in the grave already! Who even did that to you?!” Velvette asked, there was fury in her tone, but it wasn’t directed at Val or Vox. Vox really did think he was a goner there, huh? He cringed at the thought of getting all sentimental and mushy in front of Vel…ugh, at least it wasn’t Valentino. He wouldn’t let Vox live that down, though the way Velvette was being so worried about him almost made him prefer Valentino.

“That old spider prick Zestial, but it’s fine, really. I-I just couldn’t see and I thought I was..you know, a lot more worse for wear than I was, it’ll take a lot more than that to keep me down.” Vox bragged, though the other two weren’t all that interested in his ego right now. Valentino pulled out two golden pistols he’d kept on his body, because that’s a responsible thing to bring into a make-shift hospital room.

“So, we’re going to kill this guy, right?” Valentino asked, unable to stop a grin from forming on his face though he was dead serious. Vox interjected before Vel could passionately agree.

“No, no, you two are not about to go and worsen the mess I created. We could hit him where it hurts though, his reputation, I’m sure some of my cameras caught what went down, we could easily spin this and frame him as-.” Vox put a hand to his chin as he rambled though Velvette waved her hands dismissively.

“No, no, no, you are not working right now, your hurt and your not doing anything until your better!” Velvette stated, crossing her arms over her chest, practically daring Vox to argue with her. He still get like absolute Hell, that fight has taken a physical, and unexpected emotional toll on him. He couldn’t let his image continue to slip though, he’d already looked like an idiotic sap to Velvette and a useless, banged up meat sack to Valentino. Now what was he, some helpless baby?

“Yes, I am-ow!” Vox tried to pull himself up, though the second he began to get up, it was like his torso was trying to split open.

“Careful, querido, we haven’t finished with the cuts on your torso. At least let us handle them.” Valentino asked, squeezing Vox’s hand in his own. Vox’s face heated up at the feeling and he leaned back into the bed.

“Thank you,” Velvette added in an exaggerated tone, before comfortably pulling back the covers to leave Vox’s torso on show. She grabbed some of the cotton balls on Vox’s desk and doused it in the antiseptics she had accumulated there. “This is gonna sting a little.” She warned him.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Oh, please I’m not a kid-oh fuck!” He screeched as Velvette dabbed and pressed the cotton ball against the scrapes on his torso, one by one. He squeezed onto Val’s hand tighter instinctively and hears the man chuckle; Vox blushed even more. Velvette winced and worked as fast as she could, thoroughly disinfecting all his cuts. Vox took in a deep breath, trying to regain any semblance of composure as he swatted away Val’s hand.

“You two really didn’t have to do all this, for me,” Vox added quietly at the end, Val put a hand on his hip.

“That’s a weird way of saying thank you, Voxy.” He teased, though Velvette made sure to lightly smack his arm, having finished treating Vox.

“Shut up, Val! And yes, Vox, we did, did you want to wake up half blind with a useless leg? I didn’t think so.” She seemed to shudder slightly as she described it. He hated that she saw him like that already but that just made a little bit of guilt crawl up to his throat like bile.

“I just…never wanted either of you to see me in that state, I-I apologise, it won’t happen again.” Vox’s voice shifted to the tone he’d use when discussing business deals, formal and matter of fact, dropping with false confidence. That seemed to set off alarm bells in his partner’s head. Velvette considered for a moment what to say, but Valentino beat him to it.

“Voxy, darling, baby,” he leaned in, placing his hands on Vox’s shoulders, “do you know how stupid you sound right now?”

Vox’s eyes narrowed with insecurity, Velvette looked about ready to rip off Val’s wings before he continued.

“Do you know how many times you’ve seen me ripping apart this whole tower because of some shit Angel did? Or how Velvette was a blubbering mess when she first came to Hell? None of us three are perfect, we’re in Hell, so stop lying to all three of us.” Vox’s eyes seemed to soften as he looked away, actually taking in something Valentino said. Velvette seemed shock that Valentino said something actually useful.

“You know you have to be wrong if I’m agreeing with dick for brains here. Vox, we’re not gonna view you differently for this, your still our leader. This place couldn’t function without you, we still value you.” Velvette sat down on Vox’s bed next to him, who was feeling warmly trapped between the two.

“Well…that is certainly got to know, just make sure that the details of all this stays between us? You didn’t tell anyone else, right?” Vox asked, to which Velvette shook her head.

“Only your assistant.” She explained, Vox seemed to relieve, able to relax once again.

“Good, good…thank you for doing all of this for me, truly.” Vox managed a smile for his partners, Velvette politely returned one. Valentino remained smug as always but kept his hands on Vox’s body, playfully dragging his fingers down his arm.

“Very good, I like it!” Val praised him in a sickly sweet tone, which just made Velvette roll her arms. Vox on the other hand was much more preoccupied with the way his hand was travelling down his arm, with his index finger gently dragging against Vox’s chest and then just his side. Vox eyed Valentino’s hand, biting at his lip though he was much too weak to hold back his laughter right now, softy cracking up and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Gohohod, Val, stop thahahat!” He ordered, swerving his body away from the man slightly, but Val’s fingers caught up with him, a wide grin on the man’s face as he realised what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t be such a princesa, Voxy, it’s just tickling, it’s not like I’m doing anything…sinister.” That last word came out in a dark whisper, Vox felt his face sparkle with electricity, unable to meet Valentino’s smug gaze. He tried to curl up on himself but one of Valentino’s pair of arms took a hold of his wrists, forcing them above his head.

“Vahahahl, the tickling is the prohohoblem!” Vox whined, his laughter coming out slightly crackly and hoarse, doing his best to contain his snickers. Velvette starting to scribble her nails along his abs didn’t help with that.

“VEHEHEHEL!!” Vox shrieked, tensing his legs; Velvette simply smirked up at him, squeezing at the solid skin.

“What? You gave me a proper scare, you dolt, consider this my revenge!” She declared, skittering those wonderfully manicured nails of hers over his torso, her touches a lot more precise and decorate than Val’s large hands.

“Fuhuhuhuck, why yohoHOHOHu thehehen?!” Vox spat out at Valentino, who just shrugged, his crimson teeth shining with glee.

“I just like doing this, you look adorable, Voxy~!” He teased, pinching the side of his screen, before sharply withdrawing his hand at the feeling of a sharp shock bubbling at his fingertips.

“CAHAHN YOHOHU BOHOHTH QUIHIHIT IT?!” Vox whined in a flustered tone, wishing he could just disappear, or hide under the covers. His partner’s fingers were not compliant with that wish however, Velvette continued skittering her nails all about his torso whilst Valentino squeezed up and down his ribs, leaving Vox’s midriff in sensory hell. Velvette looked a little apprehensive as she noticed how hard Vox was squirming about, he looked about ready to blow a fuse in his head with how hard he was blushing. It was cute, obviously, but she couldn’t help but come concerned for Voxy, pulling away her hands and ushering for Val to do the same by slapping his wrist. Surprisingly, he complied.

“You got off lucky this time, mi amor, but you owe me~!” Valentino made sure to remind him, but Vox wasn’t listening. He smiled appreciatively at Velvette as he laid down, trying to recover.

“You two..you two are assholes..” he spoke with a small grin before figuring to add, “thanks though but, I can handle myself from here and you both can’t afford to stay here watching me all day.” Velvette huffed, knowing he was right. Valentino looked down at him, something close to love in his eyes.

“As long as you say so, Voxy. Come on, Doll, I have a shoot to film.” He stated to which she just rolled her eyes in disinterest and turned her face towards Vox.

“Stay safe, baby,” Velvette murmured, kissing him on his cheek gently, before she stood up. Vox’s eyes had a little twinkle as he looked up at Velvette.

“I will, I promise.”

[spacestation-l7]

My attempt at redesigning The Beatles 1965 cartoon! I did an alternate coloring for their clothing to make it look closer to life :)

I added some design notes below if you're interested in reading more about my design choices :)

JOHN:

Faceman of The Beatles, "The Smart Beatle". Many mistook him for Leader because of the way he presents himself

Worst case of Main Character Syndrome

Main personality trait: Strong, confident, mischievous, hot-headed

Rectangular base shape to emphasize the "strength" of the character

Second tallest Beatle, same height as George, just like irl

Lightest hair color (Brown). Hair color is the same as eye color. It makes him stand out. Lighter brown indicates energy

Posture is straight, often with chest puffed out to show a confident, dominant presence

Has the most sharp edges out of the Four

PAUL:

The actual Leader of The Beatles, "The Cute Beatle". Fan favorite potential. Everyone Needs to love him while also be unsettled by him

Main personality trait: Cheeky, flamboyant, sarcastic, extroverted, commanding (at times)

Triangular base shape. Triangles work well for characters who are mysterious and unnatural in some ways. It could also signify hierarchy as characters with triangle bases are usually leaders

Very soft facial structure despite the base. "Doll-faced", uncanny yet friendly-looking with his half-lidded eyes.

Tallest Beatle to signify hierarchy

Eyelashes to give off feminime vibes, makes him look "cute" in a traditional sense

Posture is stiff straight

Pupils not filled in to give off that "uncanny" feeling. It also makes them look soulless, a hint to "Paul Is Dead" theory

GEORGE:

"The Quiet Beatle". His expression is fixed as a frown. Youngest Beatle too, which is why I gave him a schoolboy bowlcut

Main personality trait: Quiet, shy, mysterious, thoughtful

Triangular base shape with rectangular sides. The triangle gives a sense of mystery to his character while the rectangle shows a stable character

Same height as John, sometimes slightly taller

Eyebrows are connected to eyelids and will move according to emotions. Though he doesn't show much change in expression, he's very expressive with the way his eyebrows move

Posture is slouched yet shoulders are straight, almost tense looking

Color palette and hairstyle mirrors Paul's to signify his very close brotherly relationship with him

Skinniest(?) Beatle, also to emphasize age

Fangs! Just like old George had :)

RINGO:

"The Funny Beatle", approachable and friendly, thus the wide eyes and permanent smile. Also the nose.

Oldest Beatle. Hinted at with his eyebags, slouched posture, droopy eyes, and having the longest hair

Main personality: Humorous, light hearted, peaceful, wise, cool

Spherical base shape. Circle as a base shape has always been used to potray a friendly, outgoing, and bubbly character with how soft and rounded the shape is. He doesn't have much sharp edges to show that he's quite literally A Friend

Shortest Beatle, that hasn't changed

Brightest eye color. Very blue to give attention to his facial details. Ringo's facial details are the most prominent part of his face. Bright blue eyes also gives a sense of calm

Though shortest, he has the stockiest build to show that while he's also a friend, he still means business. Built like a himbo except he's actually pretty smart. The stockiness also helps with his circular shape

Posture is completely slouched with shoulders relaxed

Two rings on each hands, even though its not visible sometimes with the way his hands are in his pocket

Big Nose

[callalillywrites]

The Huntsman's Mission

My third entry for Bucky Barnes Birthday Bingo (hosted by @avengers-assemble-bingo). This time we're getting the Royalty AU with a bit of a fairy tale twist. All of this can be blamed on Halsey's Castle. This story just wrote itself once I listened to it a few times on repeat (not a hardship because I love the song).

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Huntman!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Other characters: Steve Rogers

Summary: Your evil stepmother, the queen, has decided to do away with you, so she enlists the Huntsman to complete the task. It turns out the Huntsman is none other than your friend, Jamie Barnes. The real question is if he's going to go through with her command or find some way to save you.

Word Count: ~1330

Warnings: threat of death/violence (not by Bucky); bound character; impending death of character (Reader); twist ending; nothing too graphic but implied; lmk if I missed anything

A/N: I'm not saying I could be talked into making this a full-fledged fic, but I could absolutely make this into a full-fledged fic if there's enough interest. It's definitely a bit outside what I usually write, but I think that's why it definitely fascinates me to keep going and build this world up.

A/N2: Bucky goes by Jamie in this story, but it is Bucky.

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

It shouldn't have happened like this.

You should be back in your castle, in your old room, where you're loved and cherished by your father and mother. You should be happily trying to get out of your lessons while finding solace in your many hobbies. It hadn't been like your mother and father hadn't doted on you.

It'd all gone so wrong, so fast.

One minute, you had a happy family and a happy kingdom.

The next, your mother was gone.

Your father remarried mere months later.

Your new stepmother turned out to be a real witch, complete with magical powers. She'd used them to banish your father to some place unknown. She'd stripped you of your title and tossed you into the servants' quarters where you were expected to earn your keep. She'd transformed your happy kingdom into a sad and dreary one as she hoarded all its beauty and wealth for herself, leaving none for your people.

When you thought she couldn't do worse, she did.

You found yourself staring into the soulless eyes of one of your oldest and truest friends. A boy now turned into a young man. One that has seen war beyond his years and bore the scars of countless battles. His dark hair hung almost to his shoulders, situated just so one couldn't make out more than shadows across his features.

So transformed himself, you almost didn't recognize him.

Huntsman.

That's what he called himself.

He'd bound your hands tight with rough rope before yanking you off your tiny cot. His steps dragged you from the palace and paraded through all those that served you and with you over the years. Your soft pleas to stop went unheard as he kept going even as you stumbled and tripped behind him. Your shame and confusion not once helping with the matter at hand.

"Why are you doing this, Jamie?" you practically shouted once he'd taken you beyond the castle's gates. "Please, you're my friend. Do you hate me this much? My family?"

Icy blue eyes slammed into yours. His hands jerked at the rope until you stumbled right into him. He didn't let you fall though, grabbing you around the shoulders. Leaning in until your faces were mere centimeters apart, his voice, raspy from prolonged disuse, dripped with desperation, trembling with a shaky breath, "I have no choice, princess. The queen has given me no choice."

His answer rendered you speechless for all of two seconds, snapping back, "We all have a choice."

"Not this time," he said, shaking his head and turning his back to you once more. His hand tugged at the short rope and dragged you onward.

You'd lost track of how long you'd been forced to walk. The sun had been high in the sky when he'd first pulled you out of your room with your hands bound. Now, the sun had started its slow descent at the horizon, the bottom already dipping out of sight. The castle, once so majestic with the sun highlighting it, had disappeared from your sight as you traversed the uneven stones and dirt beneath your feet. The same feet that had begun to ache in such a way that you were certain you'd have blisters from the too-tight and overly worn slippers that adorned them.

It wasn't until the sun had dipped completely, leaving only the softest rays to highlight the area, that this Huntsman, your once-sweet Jamie, halted his steps. His gaze surveyed your surroundings with a keenness that had you scooting closer for fear that something dangerous lurked nearby, waiting to attack at its earliest convenience.

You jolted when a low hum escaped him. The noise so unlike any of the grunts and puffed breaths he'd let loose during your long trek. It took you a moment to realize it was a pleased sound.

Glancing around his broad shoulders, you soon discovered why.

A small band of men blocked your further passage along the roadway. They each had a bearing about them that didn't exactly spell comfort in your opinion, but their presence seemed to settle something within your captor. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing smoothed out.

"Thought you'd be late," he said, his voice gruff as he acknowledged the group. "You get everything I told you to?"

The man in the middle stepped forward, giving you the first real glimpse of him.

It took everything in you not to gasp at the man's appearance, so unlike the way he'd looked the last you'd seen him. The possibility of such a transformation should've been impossible, but then so should an evil queen capable of magic.

"Took us a bit, but yeah, we got it," Steve said, his gaze moving towards you. A grin spread across his face upon seeing what had to be a surprised expression on yours. "Ah, wondered if you'd recognize me, princess. Glad to see you haven't forgotten."

"I've never forgotten a single person in my kingdom," you huffed with an indignant tone. "I'm my father's daughter after all."

Steve's smile softened as he regarded you, nodding. "That you are, princess. Silly of me to have forgotten that."

Silence descended briefly between you all.

In that time, Jamie turned toward you, pulling out a large knife. One quick, efficient strike had your bindings falling away. His gaze met yours through his long strands before he shifted to meet Steve's own curious gaze. "Keep her safe. Take her far away from here. The queen must never know what's happened or it'll be all our lives. You understand that, punk?"

"Yeah, I got it." Steve nodded. "We'll take her and keep her safe, jerk."

Apparently satisfied, Jamie allowed himself a final glance in your direction, murmuring, "Take care of yourself, princess."

"Wait," you said, reaching out and grabbing hold of his jacket, "you're not going back there? Please, Jamie, I just got you back."

The corner of his lip curved upward for a mere second before his face turned almost stone-like again.

A sob threatened to rip out of you as you demanded, "At least tell me we'll see each other again. I can't let you go back without that promise."

His stony countenance cracked the smallest bit, a shaky breath working its way out of him. His face twisted as though he'd tasted something bitter as he promised, "We'll see each other again."

The lie rested between you, but that lie gave you some hope that it could become a truth. You would cling to that lie as long as you could. As long as you didn't have proof that something had happened to him. It would be a lie that would lead to your mission to retake everything the evil queen, your stepmother, had taken from you. It would be the lie that liberated your people and restored you to your rightful place, not as princess but as queen.

*****

James Barnes watched from the shadows as you left with Steve and his small band of men.

He'd done exactly as he'd promised he'd do for your father all those years ago. He'd kept you safe from the clutches of your evil stepmother, and he'd keep doing it as long as he drew breath.

With you safely tucked away, he made quick work of the poor creature needed to complete his subterfuge. If his mind kept traveling back to you and how beautiful you'd grown, he couldn't help it. His hands had long since memorized the movements necessary to carry out his work while his mind wandered.

It took mere moments before he filled the sack with the remnants he needed, hefting it over his shoulder and trudging back the way he had come.

Maybe, just maybe, he'd get the chance to see you again.

Of all the lies he's told over the years, this was the one he really wanted to turn into a truth. He wanted to be by your side as you reclaimed everything you deserved and more.

[soylent-crocodile]

Rubricum (Prestige Class)

(Thousand Sons by Yompsi)

(Oh this one is interesting. So the unit I'm basing them on- rubric marines- aren't marines who've been corrupted by their chaos god. They're marines who have been turned to dust and locked in their suits, mindless soulless automata to be controlled by the sorcerous elites.

Now I won't go as far as to have a prestige class that starts with "you're dead and have no personality forever", so instead I made it a state you can dip in and out of. Two of these classes have been core classes But Evil, one was a class centered around a mechanic- disease- but this one is something novel, and one that already has fans as I write this in February. Oh, and for the record, I would let the player continue to control the rubricum in combat, even if their character isn't in control of their body anymore.

Each marine class has my personal recommendations of equivalent fiendish lords that fit their theme. Of all the chaos gods, Tzeentch has the widest purview- magic, change, deception, knowledge... that's half the Archdevils right there! But I enjoy the wide range of options, if only because it means more excuses and options for this class. My recommendations include Abraxas, Barbatos, and Geryon, but my special pick is Areshkegal, not because she's a perfect fit for my lore, but because she's got a blue-with-gold Egyptian theme like the Thousand Sons.)

In the dark corners of ancient libraries and secret societies there are cults of magic; those who worship foul lords of secrecy, knowledge, and above all magical power. These cults are ripe with abuse, and of those who wish to delve into their knowledge or simply join a community, a hierarchy forms between those capable of casting powerful spells, and those who are not.

There is a path for such inadepts in these cults however. They can submit themselves to a higher power; a spellcaster. They become rubricum, capable of shunting their soul into the outer planes and letting themselves be empowered and commanded by their betters. Some rubricum take to the role with gusto, happy to release control of their body and submit to a master. Others treat this as an unfortunate price for access to the knowledge and connections these cults have. Still others are born into such cults, and know from a young age what their fate is if they cannot perform spellcraft. In battle, the result is the same; one's very body becomes a soulless doll, puppeted at the whims of another.

Role: Rubricum are vessels for spellcasting, loyal servants who willingly submit to the control of spellcasters, granting then bolstered combat prowess and resistances. Alignment: A rubricum is sworn to a fiendish lord, and is always evil. HD: d10

Prerequisites

Alignment: Must be the same as the chosen fiend. BAB: +5 Feats: Fiendish Obedience, Endurance Religion: Must worship a fiendish lord of magic, trickery, or knowledge. Skills: Knowledge (planes) 5

Skills

A rubricum gains 4+int mod skills per level. A rubicum’s class skills are Appraise (Int), Climb (Str), Fly (Dex), Knowledge (arcana) (Int), Knowledge (local) (Int), Knowledge (history) Int, Knowledge (nobility) (Int), Knowledge (religion) (Int), Linguistics (Int), Spellcraft (Int), and Swim (Str)

Weapon and Armor Proficiencies

A rubricum is proficient with medium and heavy armor.

Rubric State (Su)

As a move action, a rubricum may shift into a rubric state. In this state, its soul is shunted into a safe space in its fiendish lord’s domain, and its body is bolstered by profane energy. Starting at level 1, it can enter this state for a number of rounds a day equal to 4+its Constitution modifier. For each level after 1st, it can exist in this state for 2 additional rounds. At any point, its soul may choose to end this state.

When it shifts into this state, it selects one ally it can see to be its master. If that ally is a spellcaster and is within 30ft, as a free action, the master may cast a spell with a single target and a casting time of 1 standard action on the rubricum as a free action. That spell lasts the duration of the rubricum’s rubric state, rather than its normal duration. At any point, the master may choose to end the rubric state.

While in rubric state, creatures within a rubricum’s threat range take a -2 penalty to saves against spells cast by its master. Additionally, the rubricum gets a +2 profane bonus to combat maneuver checks made against opponents if its bound is within that opponent’s threatened range. In this state it is immune to mind-affecting effects as though it was mindless and cannot make intelligence-, wisdom-, or charisma-based skill checks. 

Upon leaving the rubric state, a rubricum is sickened for 1 minute. It cannot enter the rubric state while it is sickened. Rounds of the rubric state are regained after performing its daily obedience.

Slave to Darkness (Ex)

In order to maintain the abilities of this class, a rubricum must perform daily obedience to the fiend it worships. 

Empyric Guidance (Su)

At level 2, a rubricum’s body and blade are attuned to the magic of the empyrean and the way it binds to the minds and souls of living creatures. While in the rubric state, they get a +2 profane bonus to attack and damage rolls against creatures under the effect of enchantment or necromancy spells. 

Turn to Dust (Sp)

At 2nd level, a rubricum can transform into magical dust as a standard action 3/day. This ability functions as the spell Gaseous Form, using its level in rubricum as its caster level.

Damage Reduction (Ex)

A rubricum is exceedingly resilient. At level 3, it gains DR 1/-. At levels 6 and 9, increase this damage reduction by 1.

Forgotten Lore (Ex)

A rubricum has gained much knowledge from its cult, but its mind has been pockmarked by repeatedly entering the rubric state; as a result, it may not remember knowledge it has at its first attempt. At level 3, when making a knowledge check to find general knowledge, it may make a second attempt after hearing the information given. 

Fiendish Boons

As a rubricum gains levels, it gets access to fiendish boons. The nature of these boons varies based on its fiendish lord; if possible, it always gains the Sentinel boon. At 4th level, it gains the first boon. At 7th level, it gains the second boon. At 10th level, it gains the third boon. It may cast spell-like abilities and activate supernatural abilities granted by these boons while in rubric state.

Swift Rubric (Ex)

At level 5, a rubricum can enter a rubric state as a swift action.

Master’s Summons (Sp)

The master of a rubricum of level 8 or higher may, as a move action, call the rubricum to her side. This functions as though the rubricum had cast the spell Dimension Door, targeting a spot within 5ft of the master. If the rubricum is not in the rubric state, or is not within range of Dimension Door, the ability fails. 

Unstoppable (Su)

At level 9, a rubricum becomes a terrifying, unbreakable force. At the start of each round while in the rubric state, its master may choose one condition from among blinded, deafened, exhausted, fatigued, nauseated, paralyzed, petrified, or sickened. She removes the chosen condition from it.

[yuriosakawa]

Invincible Variants x Catgirl!Reader 

You don’t remember what day it is. You never really learned to tell time. Time was irrelevant in the sterile lab where he kept you—your master, your creator, the cruel man with cold eyes and colder hands.

Your world was metal floors, bright lights, needles, and commands. You were his pet, molded into his vision of perfection: soft furred ears that twitched at every sound, a long tail that twitched with your mood, and a voice reduced to nothing but soft, involuntary meows.

You didn’t know what love was. But you knew fear. Pain. Obedience.

And then came the chaos.

The sky split open in fire and death during the Invincible War. Your cage shattered. His body—your tormentor—was torn apart by debris he didn’t see coming. Not that you stayed to mourn. No, your bare feet slapped against concrete, claws clicking on the ground, lungs burning as you bolted. You didn’t stop. Not until your fragile, malnourished legs gave out beneath you.

You collapse on soft grass.

A house looms ahead—quiet, ordinary. Suburban. You crawl toward it on instinct, tail dragging, ears flattened, and squeeze through an open back door. You don’t know where you are. It smells safe. It smells like people.

And then it smells like them.

You hear a soft hum from above and lift your head, ears perked despite your exhaustion.

Eight of them float outside the home. Eight different hims. Eight Marks—but wrong.

Sinister Mark with soulless black lenses and a knowing smirk.

Mohawk Mark, arms crossed, hair wild, gaze sharp.

Viltrumite Mark, in full characteristic Viltrumite getup, blood still drying on his hands.

Omni-Mark, who looks the most like his father—expression unreadable.

Prisoner Mark, scarred and burnt all over his body, madness in his grin.

Full Mask Mark, silent, emotionless, with a black mask covering his entire head. 

Maskless Mark, bruised and battered, jaw clenched.

And Striped Mark, wearing the blue and yellow suit but with the Viltrumite sigil proudly displayed on both his shoulders, 

Your breath catches in your throat. You let out a terrified meow, low and trembling.

Mohawk Mark is the first to hear it.

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he floats down, his boots landing silently near the patio. “What the hell?” he mutters, crouching low. 

The others follow, drifting toward you like predators intrigued by a strange new toy.

You try to back away. Your legs won’t obey. Your tail lashes in panic.

“She’s… a cat?” Full Mask Mark states, voice distorted and confused.

“No. A girl who thinks she’s a cat,” Prisoner Mark chuckles, licking his lips. “Freaky.”

“Not a threat,” Omni-Mark assesses coldly.

But Mohawk Mark? He grins. Wide and amused. “She’s kinda cute,” he says, reaching out to scratch behind your ears.

You flinch, but it’s gentle. And it feels… nice.

“She’s ours now,” he says to the others. “Pet cat girl. Call dibs.”

“She meowed at us,” Sinister Mark adds with a chuckle, kneeling beside you. “You scared of us, kitten?”

Your only answer is another soft meow, small and pleading.

And then the air rips open with a crackle.

Angstrom Levy steps out of the swirling vortex, his expression twisted in smug calculation.

“Ready to begin?” he asks.

Eight heads turn in unison. Behind them, you curl up tighter, ears flattened, caught between monsters and something worse.

But at least you’re not in that lab anymore.

At least, for now… you’re theirs.

[thevanillerose]

SAVED | YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA x READER | BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Stalking A/N: Request [3/10] for my 100 Followers Celebration!

The first time you met him, you were convinced he was going to kill you.

Yes, you were smart, smart enough to know stepping into that abandoned portside warehouse was a terrible idea. But desperation had a way of overriding common sense in most people, even the sharp ones.

It was in that stale, mildewy place, where the fluorescent lights flickered against your face, that you had met that man. Little had you known at the time just how big the part he was going to play in your life from then on…

Chuuya was just... there. Standing under the dim light in the corner, his sharp eyes gleamed under the brim of his hat, and the faintest curl of a smirk tugged at his lips. It wasn’t friendly.

“What’s a civilian doing here?” 

He was so calm when he spoke, but with something sinister beneath his tone. It made your throat tighten. His hands slipped out of his coat pockets, slow and deliberate, and you could recall being fearful he might soon enough clamp your neck between them. 

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me, or I’ll decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out at first. The words tangled in your throat, fear and adrenaline fighting for control. Finally, you managed to blurt out the truth: you were looking for a friend. They’d disappeared after getting tangled up with the Port Mafia, and the hasty trail you’d picked up had brought you to this sketchy place.

Chuuya didn’t move. Everything about him seemed so unreadable. Though on the surface, as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you could see he was a handsome man. Tangerine red hair, draped in a ponytail over his shoulder. Cornflower blue eyes that watched you curiously from beneath his hat. A gloved hand, reaching up and curling by his chin, amused.

He seemed cocky, and like the type who maybe seemed cool and collected on the outside, but could probably fly off the handle in a millisecond. That wasn’t something you wanted to test.

You swore he could hear your heartbeat, the longer he observed you in that silence. Then, to your utter confusion, his smirk widened, and he tilted his head.

“I can promise you, you’re not going to find anything here. But if you hang around, things won’t end well for you.”

Finally he walked over to you. Although he wasn’t especially tall, it didn’t matter when he was so intimidating. Despite how attractive he was, frankly.

“I’ll escort you out, so stick close to me,” he said casually, though there was nothing casual about the way his tone commanded obedience. “If you wander off, I won’t save you twice.”

Hesitating, you ended up nodding slowly, clenching your trembling fists by your sides as the reality dawned on you that you were probably way in over your head, whether this was the right lead or not. 

Still, even so, you didn’t understand why he let you live in the first place. Maybe you weren’t a threat. Maybe it really had been a dead end, a misdirect into business that wasn’t your own. Maybe…he simply took pity on you.

Either way, it wasn’t the last time you saw him. Not by a long shot.

…

Weeks passed. 

Tragic news enveloped you, as one early morning you miserably had to identify the body that had been dredged up from the river. You had to look at that bloated, pallid face, and acknowledge that your friend was gone. 

You left the station in a daze, clutching a tissue one of the kinder officers had handed you as though it were an anchor. It felt like you were the one drowning in freezing water. The city around you suddenly felt so soulless and hollow, and all you wanted to do was curl beneath your covers and never come out again.

And then you saw him.

Chuuya was standing at the edge of the block, his back to you, his somewhat short but striking figure noticeable in an instant. For a moment, you debated ignoring him, walking the other way, but your feet didn’t listen.

“You!” you called, your voice harsher than you meant it to be.

He turned, his sharp eyes finding you immediately. He didn’t look surprised to see you. Like he had been waiting.

“Rough morning?” he asked, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

You froze, your stomach twisting.

“Don’t-” you choked.

His expression flickered, just for a second, something unreadable passing across his face before his smirk returned. “Don’t what?”

“Do…do you know something about this? Do you have anything to do with this?” you asked, your voice rising. “Did you—”

He stepped closer, his movements smooth and deliberate, and the way he looked at you made the rest of your words falter.

“I don’t think this is the place for a conversation like that,” he said quietly, glancing around briefly at the pedestrians and passing cars on the street beside you both, most of whom were on their way to work at this hour. His tone was calm, but there was something in his eyes that made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.

You didn’t push your luck, scared to broach the subject further, scared of this strange man, even if you had a million questions. Why had he shown up again, today of all days, here in this place? Who was he? 

How did he know? How did he know your friend had been found? That you would be here?

What exactly did he want?

…

His presence seemed to linger everywhere after that. It didn’t matter where you went or what you did—he always seemed to find you. At first, it was subtle. He’d show up in a café you happened to stop at or appear outside your building at just the right moment.

“You’re paranoid,” he teased once, leaning against a streetlamp. “It’s just coincidence.”

But it wasn’t. You could feel it in the way his eyes tracked you, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes.

It escalated slowly, like a creeping vine wrapping tighter around you, like strings were pulling at every facet of your life. The friends you still had left stopped reaching out as much, their excuses vague and hurried. A job opportunity you’d been counting on fell through inexplicably. And through it all, Chuuya was there, his presence constant and infuriatingly steady.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally confronted him one night, when you found him lingering in the courtyard outside your stately home.

“Doing what?” he had replied smoothly, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes that made your blood boil.

“You know what,” you snapped. “You’re ruining my life.”

Chuuya’s smirk faded. He took a slow step toward you, and for the first time, you saw something genuinely dangerous flicker behind his gaze.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, his tone almost mocking.

“Am I?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You—”

The words caught in your throat as he moved closer, faster than you expected. You stumbled back, your shoulders hitting the brick wall behind you, and suddenly he was there, his hand slamming against the surface beside your head.

The sound was loud, sharp, and it sent a jolt of fear straight through you.

“Don’t push me,” he said, his voice low and steady, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but calm. “You don’t want to see what I’m like when I’m angry.”

You should have been terrified. And you were. But there was something else there, too—a twisted, confusing pull you couldn’t name. It had been there from the start, the moment you’d seen him. Perhaps that was why you’d made such a foolish mistake…

“I…” you started, your voice barely a whisper, “I don’t even know who you are…but…I know you did it…”

Swallowing thickly, you willed yourself to stay strong and kept talking:

“I-I’m sure…even if you didn’t kill them yourself…you…you knew something.”

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, “I bet they were there, weren’t they?? At the warehouse. You lied to me! I can’t believe I trusted you! If I hadn’t, they might still be…they might be…”

Hiccuping quietly, you went quiet, looking down and away from him. Maybe, if you were being really honest, you’d left that day because you were scared.

Scared something would happen to you too.

“...So you’ve got it all figured out? Is that right?”

He leaned in, his free hand brushing against your jaw with a gentleness that felt out of place. Slowly you raised your trembling head, feeling his gloved hand cupping your chin. 

“I think instead of questioning anything, you should be thanking me.” he murmured, his blue gaze darkening to an indigo shade. “Do you have any idea how many people would’ve torn you apart by now if it weren’t for me? This goes deeper than you even realize. You’re lucky it was only your friend.”

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours, firm and deliberate. It wasn’t a question or a request—it was a statement, a claim.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and his smirk returned, softer this time but no less dangerous. 

“No more questions. All you need to know is that you’re lucky.” he smirked, “Lucky I’m saving you, just one more time.”

He kissed your quivering lips again, biting slightly as he pulled back, his heated breath tickling your skin as he spoke sharply:

“So be grateful.”

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

[orphicrose]

𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝘓𝘦𝘷𝘪 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

01 : Paradise 02

Note|| This follows mostly canon with some timeline changes, including starting before s1. If you see any spelling mistakes, cringe lines or anything that seems off PLEASE let me know as I am on a journey to fiercely improve my writing. ALSO, I hate "Y/N" so I have done my best to make it 'X reader' friendly, while banishing that god awful term. Other fanfiction writers inspired me to do this! Don't worry, it is still reader friendly. I'd just like to say I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading this. I have finished 50% as I'm writing this, and It is looking to be a good few chapters. But it is a SLOW burn, as I enjoy writing tension ;)

Themes|| Slowburn, Angst, Enemies (?) to Lovers, Titan Reader, Eventual smut, Slight gore !!. Warnings||Mentions of blood, swearing

Summary|| You're cursed with a hidden Titan and join the Scouts, desperate to find a cure. As you grow closer to Levi, the fear of losing control-and the love you never wanted-threatens to tear you apart.

───────✧❁✧───────

Paradis was a beautifully tragic land. Such a large learning opportunity for humanity, a possibility to help bring more culture to the world. But, as the world is, it will shun those who are different. Blaming their ancestors for the generalized hate of such a large group of people. People who don't even know what their ancestors did. History buried between the walls that separated the classes.

Put any group of human into any space and they will create a society, an unfair concept that will benefit only the highest bidder. What made it sadder , was the fact they had no idea how much beauty they could escape to if they just knew the truth.

People on the outside had an idea of their history, but leaders alike enjoyed being the victim in the stories. So, nothing would ever be a fact. Not in your eyes at least. Nationalism ran through the veins of everyone in your community, but not your family.

Fortunately, once in a blue moon, someone is born with a brain capable of conscious thought. Your father was a scientist, a teacher, a believer in our Earth. Reading books rather than newspaper headlines. That knowledge was passed onto you, learning everything you could about your ancestors. However, books wasn't all that you had in your possession. Your families Eldian bloodline carried something much more valuable. A titan.

🏶 ---------- 🏶

Clouds lurked in the skies across the island, threatening to spill water for miles. It had been weeks since they had consistent rainfall, so it was long overdue. But , as these things do, it had chosen a terrible time to quench their thirst.

Seconds since the small rainstorm had emerged, water hitting the grass had turned into a horrifying crimson. Fallen soldiers had their graves dug for them as the mud began to eat away at their bodies and absorbing them back into the earth. Pieces of shattered metal and broken bits of gear littered the ground for miles, having been discarded or torn from their users. The silence was eerie and fleeting.

Levi’s gas was running low, his mind feeling as if it wasn’t functioning properly. Hooks clung onto the trees around him as the air took his body along with it. Zipping around to every titan he could reach and prioritizing the ones that had grabbed a scout into their soulless hands.

“Get to your horse and head for Commander Erwins squad!” He would call out, repeating Erwins request for an immediate retreat.

There wasn’t enough time for him to save everyone, forcing the anger and grief into the pits of his heart for every soldier he failed. But there was two in particular that would kick him in the head for as long as he may live.

Farlan and Isobel.

He found Farlan first when the battle seemed to be over. For the time being.

Looking the same as every other fallen comrade, the only difference being Levi knew his story. His secrets. Half his corpse had been disregarded like the mud that was turned up around him.

Levi’s body collapsed with despair. The only lives he truly cared for on that battle field where dead due to his inability to save them. Isobel’s remains could be made out, not far from Farlans. Her recognizable pigtails stood out on her dismembered head. A look of pure terror and agony engraved on her face, and now into Levi’s mind forever. He couldn’t even bring himself to salute their efforts, nor could he find the strength to pick himself up. Allowing his body to bathe in the rain and blood like a punishment, he parted his lips to release all the air trapped in his lungs. Wishing that he didn’t have to retake another breath, like his friends that relied on him to return.

🏶 ---------- 🏶

You had arrived in Paradis a couple days prior. Amazed by the beach you landed at, no signs of a human presence - just pristine nature. There was no dock for the boat to stop at, so you were forced into the freezing waters below to reach the shore. The captain gave you a concerned look as your body hit the water, like you where some crazy imbecile with a death wish. Maybe you were

The harsh journey had massively tested your faith in yourself, armed with nothing more than a few journals and a small knife that could be mistaken as a box cutter. Though, you were in possession of a rather powerful creature, but there hadn’t been any time for you to use it yet. You where scared, to say the least. So, you buried it and decided to only travel during the night. Despite the power you held, the sight of charging titans remained terrifying and unforgettable.

The day the rain fell, you had decided it could be a good opportunity for you to gain some ground. The titans weren’t completely dormant, but slow enough for you to evade them. They weren’t too concentrated this far away from the walls, anyway.

The heavier the rain got, the more of your vision was obstructed. The trees scattered around you became denser further ahead and you decided that was your best option for the time being.

Sounds of rain waterlogging patches of grass around you wasn’t enough to mask the cries or screams that echoed deeper into the forest. It sent the hairs on your arms into a stand when they went completely silent. It took you off guard, forcing you to a halt. Making sure you hadn’t hallucinated the audio.

Metal clanging, the snapping of bones, tearing of flesh. It all became more apparent the longer you listened.

You had failed to notice the pair of eyes burning into the side of your face as you stood in the small clearing. Groaning, he caught your attention. Using all of his remaining energy to make a noise loud enough for you to hear. He sat against a tree, missing the whole lower half of his body. Yet, he was breathing at a steady pace and blinking like he was communicating in morse code. “Help them.. Please” His voice croaked, blood spilling from his parted lips and down his green cloak.

Shifting his head to the left, it looked like he was pointing with his eyes. You followed his gaze to a shiny sword looking weapon sat a few meters away. You left to pick it up, glancing back to him. Contemplating if there was anything you could do to make his last moments any less traumatizing. Considering his situation, he appeared at peace with his life ending. Just mindlessly and patiently sat, awaiting for it to end.

The metal rattled in your hands as you pushed forward, shaking with a mixture on fear and stress. Not knowing what you had fallen into. You hadn’t noticed the heartbeat in your ears till it suddenly stopped, eyes falling on the largest titan you’ve seen yet. Half its body hidden behind a red wood tree, the rain distorting its face as it’s next victim grew closer to its stretched mouth.

Desperate pleas for help haunted you, forcing your body into action without your minds consent. You wanted to shut your eyes, to fall to the ground and wake up in a warm bed, but you couldn’t. The adrenaline caught your focus and you felt yourself sprinting towards the titans feet. Letting the blade sink into the back of its ankle, watching as a large sliver of its skin had flown across the air.

Before it had a chance to turn, you gave the second foot the same treatment. Slicing any important tendons it may have had, it collapsed. The soldier in it’s hand finding an opening to wriggle free and shoot a hook into a branch above him, flying around the fallen titan to grab you.

You couldn’t help but let out a yelp as the ground disappeared below you.

The two of you stumbled onto the branch he landed on. Exhaustion forcing him to fall into the trunk of the tree, clutching at the sides of his rips in pain, and sliding down into a sitting position.

“Thanks. Thank you” He coughed out, shaking his head in an attempt to remain conscious.

You ignored the comment, holding onto cracks in the bark for your life as you peered at the ground below you. “We are really high”

When there was no response, you turned to see him fast asleep.

Around half an hour passed before he finally stirred. Having spent the time in a staring competition with the titan below you, the one you had just escaped from. Its arms stretched towards you, too close to your perch on the branch. Its body remaining as still as it could manage, almost like it thought it could lure you down. Without blinking once in the entire half an hour, it began to get to you, mouth stretched wide to invite you to fall in. You were too scared to move in case it could jump or something ridiculous like that.

“Shit. It wasn’t a bad dream” The man had woken himself up when his head fell from it’s position and jolted his body forward.

The skies where still sickened with grey clouds, and the rain had began to irritate your skin, but at least you could see further in front of you.

The man winced behind you in an attempt to move into a comfier position. “Miche”

You turned to him with an eyebrow raised. Did he have a concussion? Why was he making weird noises?

“The names Miche” He repeated, offering you a small smile. “What’s the name of my savior then, huh?” You replied with your name, trying to smile back, but too distracted by the titan below you.

That familiar sound of gear whirring through the air tore your eyes to the canopies above you. You could see a figure dancing through the tree lines, but it was shifting around the skies too quickly for you to get a decent look.

“Here he is, coming to save the day” Miche laughed weakly behind you, wincing soon behind. In the time it took you to look behind you, the culprit had landed in between the two of you. His eyes falling to you for a fleeting moment, before turning to his injured comrade.

“Glad to see you alive, rookie” Miche grabbed the hand offered to him and groaned as he climbed to his feet. Hunched over when he finally made it.

“Who's the girl?” The man shot back, his voice was intimidating.

“She saved me, Levi”

You now had a name to the face, as he shot around to look at you. Trying to comprehend how the hell a civilian got this far from the walls, and without even a scratch.

“Who are you?” He repeated, ignoring what Miche had told him.

You stared for a moment, unsure of what to say without setting him off further. His eyes narrowed at you, imprinting you into his mind like you where the subject of a wanted poster.

When the silence became too much to bare, Miche had managed to balance himself and grip back onto the handles of his equipment. “Suppose you’re gonna help me down?”

“I’ve cleared the titans in this area, you should be fine getting down” Levi shook his head with frustration, a sadness in his eyes that he seemed to be trying his best to hide.

Miche nodded, looking off into the distance. “I’m in no shape to carry her down, guess I’ll see you down there” and with that, he was gone.

You watched as he disappeared behind some trees in the distance, his grunting and groaning fading along with him. Feeling the anxiety build up in your chest as you could feel Levi’s eyes land on you again.

“What? You mute?”

The question grounded you again. “Marigold” You blurted out, feeling stupid afterwards, but repeating it again with your first name. Watching as his eyes moved from you to the ground below you.

A hook shot into a branch above you and he had swung around to grab you under his arm. Knocking all of the air out of you in the process.

The awkward position allowed for you to feel every jolt and movement he made, making for a very unpleasant journey back down. The sight of how high you where made you queasy, forcing you to shut your eyes until you felt the sweet ground below you.

“Get up, we need to get back before more of those freaks come back” Levi moved onto his horse, grabbing the reins into his hands as he waited for you.

Miche appeared from the fog, having found his horse after screaming its name for a minute straight. Beginning to trot ahead. You moved from the mud, shaking it off your hands as you made your way towards Levi’s horse. Using the hand he had offered you to throw yourself round behind him. No more words were exchanged. You lightly held onto his waist, finding yourself hardening your grip as he sped through the crimson fields behind Miche. Taking in the scene that was now behind you, knowing it would forever be engrained into your mind.

🏶 ---------- 🏶

Scenery inside the walls was a huge contrast to the conditions you were just subjected to. Rocky paths lined with beautifully constructed wooden houses, all different from the next. Though, all sharing a similar red washed roof. Clearly being what this society would class as a poor village, from the clothes of the civilians littering the street, you thought it was more visually stunning than anything you had seen back at home. The freshness in the breeze was enough for you to fall in love.

The ride to wall rose was silent, so when you entered with the rest of the returning scouts to a loud cheer, you had been drawn in from your daydream. However, it didn’t remain cheerful. Broken sobs could be distinguished between the grateful shouts, begging for their fathers, children, or sisters to return home. Soon to be met with the fact that they never would.

The only people you had the displeasure of interacting with from that point on was an arrogant group from the military police, who had taken you off Levi’s hands when you arrived at a large castle like structure. Something told you he would be back.

They had a lot to say about you, none of it to your face or even including you for that matter. They disregarded you into a cell below the building. Away from everyone and everything.

Oil lamps flickered in the small hallway outside your cell, offering a dim but warm light. Making you somewhat sleepy. Highlighting the rusted surface of the bars that contained you. The Prison you had been left in wasn’t as dirty as you’d expect, but it still wasn’t ideal. The bedding was neatly made, with minimal stains shown for, and the sink that sat in the corner had minor water damage along the seals that held it to the wall.

Your attention was drawn to the stairs in the corner of the hall as footsteps began to fall down them. Revealing Lev when he reached the bottom, moving towards you in your cell. His small frame stood straight, disciplines, but his face remained void of emotion. His eyes fell to various points in the chamber you sat in, flashing with disgust.

“Lets make this quick, I don’t want to overstay my welcome down here” He pulled up a wooden chair from behind him and sat down, crossing a leg over the other.

You remained silent, studying his features as the warm light hit his cold expression.

“What were you doing outside the walls?” He was straightforward and to the point, and he let you ponder your answer for a moment.

“I was conducting my own research on the titans” you grit your teeth and looked down to the ground, fiddling with your fingers. He hummed, almost unsatisfied with the answer.

“Research, huh?” He raised an eyebrow towards you. “So, what’s your big discovery? That they have the capability to be reasoned with?”

He mocked you, and that frustrated you. Knowing your knowledge dug deeper than any of these imbeciles could comprehend, but that was not your focus. You needed a way into the scouts, and Levi seemed to be your open door.

“What my research has accomplished in a week, yours hasn’t in a year, plus the hundreds of casualties”

Levi rolled his eyes , moving a hand to rub his temple as if it would ease the headache that was you. “You expect me to believe that? You, out there, alone, in the middle of titan territory just… gathering data? That’s a pretty bold claim”

He got up from his chair to move towards the rusted bars that separated the two of you, refusing to get close enough to touch it. “If that was the case, why wouldn’t you have reported your findings before?”

“I may not be a scout, or anyone important, but I know what I’m doing. I’ve been studying titans for years from a distance. Any piece of research that exists, I’ve read. I just thought…” your voice lowered, almost pleading for him to believe you, but trying to keep the story intact. “I wanted to make sure I could prove something by seeing them up close, maybe get some hard evidence on my theories.”

His eyebrow twitched, somewhat unconvinced, but he remains silent for a moment, scrutinizing your every word. He walks slowly along the length of the cell, stopping near the corner where he turns back to face you.

“Please, just look at my journals. Everything is there” You begged, moving to the bars to catch his eye.

“We’ve already read them. That’s why I’m here and not someone from the military.”

“You have?” A flicker of panic appears behind your eyes, fluttering it away. Levi moved towards you, nodding, his gaze unwavering.

“Every word. Everything lines up with what we’ve seen of the titans. the patterns, the behavior…” he watches you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. “You’ve managed to do all of this without the appropriate resources”

“So… you believe me?” You tried to gather yourself, standing up straight to show a little confidence. Before it is immediately knocked back down.

“I wouldn’t say that. Your story is weak, but your research is promising.”

You stared up at him. Barely understanding what he was saying. He already knew you had information on the titans, so why bother asking? Its like he was waiting for you to slip up, like he knows your secret. Or perhaps he just wasn’t a very trusting person.

“I have one more question” He spoke up again, his body turned away from you as he headed back to the stairs. Taking your silence as a nod to continue. “How are you still alive? The only weapon you had on you was the smallest knife I think I’ve ever seen.”

Sighing, you moved towards the bed. Falling backwards onto it as your legs flew in the air. “The titan in the forest was the only one I came across, sir. I wasn’t out there for long. I got lucky, I guess” You lied through your teeth, hoping your tone would roll off casually. He seemed convinced, or maybe not. It was hard to tell.

Without another word, he began his ascent up the stairs. You let out a heavy breath when you heard the door slam above you. It was over. But, what now?

───────✧❁✧───────

[katttpchelka]

wowie! Miracle redesign yippieee

I redesigned her appereance and background now she looks more like "frankenstein monster" or zombie bc i got some inspration ambient horror tracks :P

Now her remaked background

Miracle’s origin stretches back to the aftermath of the Crusades, when desperation led scientists to tap into the Backyard. Miracle, once known as the Skeleton Key, was a relic created to unlock metaphysical gates that governed the realms of life and death. For many years, she was used as a soulless tool by various wielders, unlocking forbidden knowledge and powers, only to be discarded once her usefulness expired.

Over time, as the Skeleton Key was passed between hands and corrupted by the desires of its wielders, it began to form a consciousness. This consciousness, riddled with fragmented memories of betrayal and conflict, eventually took on the form of Miracle—a sentient being with a fractured sense of self and a desperate need for validation. She was ultimately found by the scientist Stein, who fused her with human flesh, giving her a physical body but treating her like an experiment.

Stein's rejection after her body began to decay shattered her remaining sense of self-worth, pushing Miracle to the brink of madness. Now, she wanders in search of purpose, torn between her desire to serve and the longing to escape the cycle of being used and discarded. Her journey is one of internal conflict—between the duty as a servant and her yearning to be more than a tool for others.

And Skeleton key design(i know it looks like a Moroha mode Paracelsus but i just wanted a play on bone theme and decided make ram skull for "key head" or idk how it calls ":6 )

Skeleton Key is not as intelligent as other Magical Foci and lives counting on their host and primitive survival instincts. Sometimes, at the host's command, they turn into a humanoid ghost with a animal skull(mostly its a ram skull) blue-green fire coming out of their mouth and wearing tattered and funeral like attire.

wow such big oc rumble sorry o_o"""""

upd 2: A new Skeleton key look :p

upd: i rewrite her background bc why not

[wr1tervsc]

Species types.

In this futuristic version of Earth, there are species on Earth, and alien species who invaded from other planets.

On-Earth species:

Avians: Avians are humans with wings. To put it simply, they are humans with advanced effects related to birds. Wings, advanced vision, hearing, and sharp talons. Avians used to roam the Earth freely, but once humans evolved and their culture advanced to technology, Avians wished to remain magical and connected to their culture of nature. Due to this, Humans banished the Avians underground. Avians now live in underground cave systems the size of cities, that the rest of society are unaware of.

"Cursed" Avians: Cursed Avians are similar to regular Avians. Being "Cursed" simply means being the mix between an Avian and a human, and this can give them defects. Defects can range from anything, from having extra horns or feathers, to being able to heal wounds with their hands. Cursed Avians are viewed as, well, cursed, and tend to be killed at birth or kicked out of the Avian caves, leaving them to the humans to be killed off eventually.

Macka: Macka are a cat-like species. Macka stand on two feet and have arms and regular hands, also can speak English entirely like a regular human, however, they have the head of a cat and their bodies are covered head-to-toe in fur. Macka can appear in many different colours based on where they're from. Macka live in tribes deep in forests, away from humans and any other species.

Off-Earth Species:

Vaelari: Vaelari are 8-12 foot tall aliens. Vaelari appear very strong and commanding, and often wear heavy armor to cover their grey coloured skin. They are very muscular, with either black or red, "soulless" eyes. Their teeth appear very sharp for tearing up metal armor, as they've developed quite an immunity over the years of fighting. Vaelari have a negative reputation in the galaxy for often being aggressive, often starting wars and fights first. They originate from a planet named Valeriosa, which has a very rough terrain and atmosphere, yet very advanced technology.

Ithari: The Ithari are human-sized aliens with purple or blue skin covered in rough alligator-like scales. They have light eyes, and their hair is replaced by long spikes down their head and back that poke outwards once in distress for protection. Ithari homeworld is hot and tropical, but similarly to the Vaelari, they're very technologically advanced. The Ithari were the first ones to venture space and discover and take control of the Zenith.

Now, there are more species, however these are simply the main ones that are most relevant to the story itself.

[thealwriteytrashdump]

The Night Goddess

An Albert Wesker x Reader one shot Smut fic

“Please make yourself at home, Dearheart.” 

His voice had a sultry deep tone as he shook the water from his tousled sandy hair, slicking it back in an attempt to fix it back to how he usually styles it. He shook his heavy coat off, damp from the pouring rain outside and hung it up the rack, kicking off his loafers, and placed them in the little shoe cupboard next to the door. He glanced at you, as you stood awkwardly in his dark apartment, scared to make a mess. He stood tall next to you, unbuttoning the two top buttons on his blue uniform shirt, bending down and taking your calves gently, his burning hot hands soft but callused against your clampy frozen skin as he gently slid off the old scuffed heels you wore, rubbing your feet in a small attempt to get you warm. 

Watching him kneel before you, quietly, you shivered as he felt up your leg, the warmth contrasting the ice in your veins, his icy blue eyes looking up your body to your face, he squeezed your thighs gently, before standing to his full height, towering over you and unintentionally caging you against the wall. He reached up and rested a warm hand on your cheek, bringing your face up to look at him. You let him, let him do as he pleases, as he ran his nearly scalding hands on your deathly cold body. 

“How long were you out there?” He asks quietly, studying your face, and pushing back your unbrushed, stringy wet hair from your face. Staring solemnly into his eyes, you don’t answer him, and he sighs. 

“I’ll run a hot bath, come here dear.” he says finally, and gently leads you across the darkened minimalistic catalog of a living room. White couches, with black accent pillows, a glass coffee table complete with a vase of seemingly fake flowers to light up the dead room, and a floor lamp in the corner. A large tv on a black metal and glass stand, a standard living room but soulless in the decor. The open floor plan leads to the bare kitchen off to the side, a bowl of fruit on the counter for display. 

You held up the hem of your soaking wet ratty slip dress in your hands, afraid to make a mess in his nice, clean, empty home. The fabric hung limp against you, stretched beyond form. You follow him dutifully, quietly as a mouse, to his luxurious bathroom. Wesker steps in and turns on the light, you stop at the door, just inside on the tile so you don’t ruin the nice hardwood flooring in his bedroom. You begin to shiver violently from the cold, trying your hardest not to chatter your teeth. He takes his socks off and tosses them into his hamper, turning back to guide you further into his spacious bathroom. 

He brings out fluffy towels, and sits at the edge of the large tub, turning on the faucets to full, adjusting the temperature for you. 

“Strip.” He commands and you do as he says. Letting the slip fall from your shoulders onto the floor, stepping out of it and picking it up, holding it in your hands unsure of what to do with it. 

Wesker lets the water run, adding in some of the bubbles you mentioned liking off-handed to him once, before turning back to you. He takes you in, the yellowing bruises on your body, the fresh welts, the ruined old ripped slip dress in your hands, despite him telling you he could buy you new clothes. You always declined, saying the slip dress was comfortable, and he never pushed it. He pulled you towards him gently, taking the slip and tossing it into the hamper for you. He sat on the tub, bringing you to stand in front of him naked as the day you were born, beautiful, despite the dirt smudged on your nose, and the yellowing bruises fading away on your arms and chest. The marks of others but, you were still beautiful.

He traced patterns on your cold skin, running his warm palms over your soft tummy, dragging them down your sides, you stood waiting for his commands as always, letting him touch you how he wanted. He brought you closer, squeezing your hips gently, hands roaming back to the meat of your ass, he kneaded gently before rubbing up your back.

He looked up into your eyes, filled with adoration and something else much darker. You smiled for him but looked away when you saw his eyes, he was an open book. 

“Step into the bath, Dearheart. Let me clean you.” he said as he let you go, turning back to turn off the hot water. Doing as he commanded, you stepped into the warm water gratefully, finally making a noise as you sigh in relief. He smiles at you gently, taking some of his nice smelling shampoo and gently washing your hair for you as you relax in the bath. 

He gently teases out the knots in your hair, massage the shampoo into your scalp, and rubbing the nape of your neck gently, coaxing out quiet moans from you. His large hands gently with your fragile form, he took the detachable shower head and rinsed your hair, repeating the process with the conditioner, quiet as he works. 

He checks the water, making sure it’s still warm for you before guiding you to lean forward as he takes a washcloth, gently cleaning you, taking his time with every inch of your body, his hands smoothing over the sensitive skin on your shoulders, rubbing down each of your arms gently. 

He gently kisses the tips of your fingers, before returning them to the water, sliding down to his knees, to continue washing your torso and legs, his hands teasingly squeezing your calves and massaging that sensitive spot just behind your knees that makes you arched in the tub, eyes closed in bliss. He worships your body thoroughly, cleaning every inch and massaging to relax you in the warm water. You don’t look at him, just staring at his hands as they work, watching them glide over your wet skin smoothly. 

The water is so warm, so pleasant, you could fall asleep, much different from the heavy downpour outside, he reached in further, dragging the washcloth against your folds, washing every part of you, making sure to flick your little nub teasingly, making you moan softly and buck slightly against his hand. 

“That’s a good girl..” he says quietly, “Ready to come out?” 

Nodding, you attempted to get out while Wesker turned to grab the fluffy bath towels he set out, scooping you in them and lifting you onto the counter. He dried you as sensually as he washed you, rubbing the second towel on your feet, patting up your legs dangling over the edge. He pulled you closer to the edge, and you opened your legs for him, a soft noise in your throat as you felt him kiss your inner thighs down to the junction of your hip. He spread your folds to take a look, studying your cunt like an art piece, leaning and placing a passionate kiss against your outer lips, sighing in content as he continued. He licked your little hole, tasting your juices as they leaked out of you, nuzzling his large straight nose into your clit. You flushed as you felt him press into you, sighing as he stuck his tongue in, wet and hot. 

He groaned into you, a deep vibrating moan that sent tingles up your spine, as he held your legs apart pulling you closer to him, practically holding you up as he ate you out like a man starved. He flattened his tongue, licking up to your clit and gently sucked, flicking the tip of his tongue over the nub as one of his hands forced you to lay back on his bathroom counter holding you flat as you tried to arch into him. Your mouth hung ajar as he continued unabashed. 

Completely at his mercy, you could only watch him as he did you, the first time in the night you met his stare head on. Your voice cracked as you moaned loudly, clenching around nothing as he sucked harder against your clit. A sharp pain caused you to scream loudly in euphoria as he nipped your poor little nub harshly, quickly soothing the pain into more pleasure with his tongue as you wriggled against his hand still pressing on your lower belly. You fell back against the counter, losing yourself in that continuous heightened pleasure, wanting so badly to rock against him. 

“Spread your legs wider like a good little slut.” he commanded as his other palm slides up your thigh to your core, pressing in a finger, groaning deeply when he feels you clench him hard.

“..Fuck..” He breathed against you, diving back quickly. He’s lapping at your clit desperately, humming his love for you against your core as he fingered you, reaching that spot that has you spasming against his hands. He adds another digit, stretching your little hole for him later.

“Go on, sing for me. That’s it, sweetheart.” He coaxes, his voice deeper, huskier, his icy blue eyes blown out with desire as he watched you lost in your pleasure, desperately moaning. Your voice goes an octave higher, a tell tale sign that you’re close, so close. You don’t need to say anything for him to know, he can feel it. He added another finger, and another stretching you wide, as he nipped your bud, arching his fingers up into that spot and forcing you to the very edge before he pulled away quickly. A strangled whine left your lips, as he pants onto your cunt.

He forced you to feel that intense pleasure, the kind that makes your legs quake and your toes curl, almost tipping over before he pulls away to leave you desperate in his absence. You’re ragged and ruined, chest heaving heavily, face flushed and sweating, as you look back into his eyes, a mischievous little glint in his loving eyes. He chuckled huskily, standing to his full height again, leaning over you as he kisses you roughly, the hand on your stomach sliding up to hold your neck, he squeezed lightly, 

“Not yet, darling, I’m not finished.” He brings up his hand soaked in your juices, to your mouth, 

“Open.” 

As he commanded, you opened your mouth, letting him slip his fingers in, he felt around scissoring and pinching your tongue lightly, felt your breath cool his fingers slightly.  

“Close.” Your mouth closes, your juices on your tongue, savory slightly sweet. He grinned, eyes watching your warm mouth obey him, he flicked his steel gaze up to your eyes, grinning wide, 

“Suck.” He felt you dutifully suckle on his fingers, felt your warm wet tongue lick up your own juices eagerly, and that feeling went straight down to his cock. 

He watches you, taking mental images of your fuck ruined face, the glossy eyes with the pupil so dilated, they’re dark with lust, the way you look up at him through your lashes. The way your mouth puckers around his fingers. He would compare how they look around his cock. The thought makes him twitch in his cargo pants. 

“Good fucking girl.” he breathed, rutting against your wet core, squeezing your neck more as he contemplates how to ruin you tonight. Your hands gently hold his arm, raking your nails over him gently.

There was no doubt in his mind, he wants you, he may have always wanted you, ever since his first night with you. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop, kissing you deeply, crushing your body with his, desperate to feel you in any way he can. His arms snake around you, lifting you up and against him as he carries you into the darkened bedroom, tossing you down on the bedroom, quickly removing his shirt and pants, eager to finally have you, he ripped off his boxers without much ceremony. He watched as you begin to turn over like how he usually likes it, 

“No, lay flat on your back, and hold yourself open to me, I want to see that wet pussy. ” he commanded and you obey, spreading your legs wide for him, hands opening your juicy folds to him, begging him with your eyes to fuck you good. 

“Good.. Good girl.. Do you want Daddy to fuck you?” He breathed as he pulled your body to the edge of the bed, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your folds. He bites back a moan, it has been too long since he felt your velvety warmth. It takes all of his strength not just to ram into you like he wants, fucking into you with mad desire. No, he wants you to beg him, he wants to feel desired like how he desires you.

His hands roam your body. Feeling your curves and kneading your breasts, settling on your neck and holding you down as he continued to rub the bulbous tip of his head against your twitching little hole, he licked his lips, swallowed the spit and looked into your pleading eyes. 

He pushes in, and almost immediately, you cry out, a needy little whine, the sound delicious in his ears. He makes a choked noise, gritting his teeth and trying to breathe through the intense but soft tightness. He concentrated on how soft you feel, how hot your pussy is around his cock. He can feel you pulse your walls and he almost loses it, he squeezed your throat and yours fly to his arm for support again.   

“Fuck Dearheart, you’re so tight still..” He hissed and closes his eyes, bottoming out and staying there, enjoying how you struggling against him, trying to fuck him. He struggled to keep control.

“Beg for it, my darling, beg me to fuck you.” He says, pulling out, shakily pumping in slowly and back out, he opened his eyes when you whine again, nails raking against his arm, 

“Alby, please. I need your cock, stop teasing me!” you say, trying to rut against him. He groans out, chuckling breathlessly, 

“Come now my dear, you can do better than that… Can’t you?” He teases, choking out another noise when you clench around him again. 

“Fuck Albert, please! I need you to ruin me! I only want you. No one else can compare anymore!” You cry, and that breaks him. He snapped his hips forward quickly, setting a brutal pace, watching your face morph from desperate need to pained pleasure, watches the way your breasts bounced when he fucks you. He loved hearing you babble your love for him, your praise of his cock, about how good you felt. 

“Albert! You stretch me out so good.~” 

God you were so beautiful. A beautiful goddess of the night he was desperate to have. He leaned up, releasing your throat to hold your legs open, raking his ravenous gaze down over your gorgeous body, finally settling on where his cock disappeared into your body, over and over. Again and again. 

He could feel you build back up, hear it in your voice. He needed it, he needed you to cum, 

“Cum you little slut, Cum for me.” he commanded through gritted teeth, he felt you tip over, the scream you released, the hard spasm of your cunt, almost sending him too. He dug his nails into your sensitive flesh, trying to ground himself desperately. 

He could feel every little flutter of your pussy walls, the way your body twitched as he powered through your orgasm, he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading you out to see himself fuck that tight cunt of yours. 

Every noise you made, sent him to a higher plane of existence, his palm slid up to rest on your navel, pressing down. Loving that strangled cry you made as he did it, his ass clenching as he concentrated on your pleasure. He angled himself upwards, searching for that spot that had you screaming and saying his name as your prayer. When he did find it, he began to rub your clit, exactly how you liked it. Fast tight little circles, you vaulted again suddenly, arching into him, hands clenching his sheets.

“Albert! Fuck!” You arch yourself up more, chasing your high as he pounds into you, chasing his. 

“You dirty little slut! Who told you to cum again?” he barked, speeding up as he lost control. He loved that he made you do that, unable to control yourself with him. The boost to his ego alone made you worthy of all of his love.

He leaned over you, needing to feel you all over. He pistons into you, groaning against you clinging to him, scratching him up like a wild cat, 

“Fuck, dearest.. I’m-” He lost his breath as you latched onto his neck, biting hard on his jugular, 

The sudden sharp pain was the last straw, he pulled out, pulling away to quickly bringing your thighs together to fuck out his seed into. He shook as he came, spilling out over your thighs and stomach. He nearly roared from the intensity, shuddering hard, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

Wesker stayed like that, fucking your thighs lazily, the aftershocks almost too much for him. His eyes opened and as he looked down at you, this beautiful woman, his very own angel. He sighed content, watching your chest heaved, and tears leak out of your eyes, too lost in your own bliss, and he loved that he was the one who made you feel like that. He would save that mental image too. Engrave it into his soul. 

‘I love you.’ it was on the tip of his tongue, he almost said it. He wanted to, desperately. He collapsed next to you on the bed, watching you lick up his cum from your stomach like a whore, his cock twitch again. 

Fuck, you were perfect.

“Hold on, dearheart, let me get a rag.” 

You watched him get up, watched the way his firm ass jiggled when he walked, the way his back muscles rippled as he moved. He was indeed a beautiful man, a fallen angel. Turning to the window, you noticed the rain stopped, the sky still dark though. Waiting patiently for him to come back, and when he did with warm wet cloth, you let him clean you off. He whispered sweet nothing in your ear, telling you about how perfect you were.

He did like taking care of you, you noted numbly. He tossed the washcloth at the bathroom door, crawling into bed with you. He curled into you, obviously tired, holding you against him as he fell asleep. You were tired too, wanting desperately to fall asleep in his strong arms and have it be okay. 

A quick glance to his alarm clock says it was 3am, it was almost time for you to go. 

“Don’t leave this time.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you harder against him. 

“Okay. Good night, Alby. “ 

“Good night, my goddess.” He slurred, exhausted after a long day. 

Like always, you waited for him to fall asleep, grateful he was a heavy sleeper. You never charged him extra for the aftersex cuddles. Taking the money from his wallet, you cleaned a bit for him, mostly just placing towels in the hamper, draining the dirty bath water and wiping it out. You searched for your slip, quietly slipping out Albert’s bedroom. Your dress was still damp but you put on anyway, creeping to his front door to find your uncomfortable heels. Slipping those on, you paused before opening the door, sad to leave yet again. 

With a soft sigh, you open the door, slipping out into the cold damp night again. 

[canyonkingdom]

the seven seas of rhye

Fear me you loathsome, lazy creatures

Broomskingdom is located in between two rich mountains, surrounded by rich land perfect for agriculture. Away from the mountains were seven seas, only seen by the view of the queen's castle. The peasants racked their backs in the fields, their arms sore for picking the wheat.

"I hate this job." one grumpy peasant grumbled.

"It's not like you have a choice, Cap." another one lectured.

I descend upon your earth from the skies

While the poor straddled the economy of the kingdom, the rich stood up high.

Queen Jin lived in a larges castle that ascended high than a man on his second trip. Gold accents tattered the beige walls elegantly. Her smile could make millions fawn.

Her orange gown flowed when she walked, blonde hair blowing through the air. Her beauty shined with a single touch of the corner of her lips. When she reveals herself to the kingdom, they all cheered. A peep of her voice can cause stampedes.

I command your very souls you unbelievers

"Helly," the queen called out to her most trusted adviser.

"Yes, your Majesty?" Helly hastily made his way to the room, where his eyes were planted on the queen, sitting on her throne glittering in jewels.

"I want you to go on a journey."

Bring before me what is mine

She looked over the window. "There."

The seven seas of Rhye

-//-

Helly missed the old town in the kingdom. Where he grew up, where he learned, where he stayed. If he hadn't been appointed personally to the queen, he would be in the fields.

And he missed his old friend.

"Rhye? She must be out of the gutter!" Bruner slurred as he took another downing on his booze.

"I know, right? But I am the queen's advisor for a reason. She trusts me with everything." Helly said, sipping his cup of booze. "We do have a... shady history with Rhye."

"Like the seven seas thing?"

"Yeah." Helly answered.

"It was like a full blown war over some seas and we lost it, right?" Bruner asked, looking for clarification.

"Yeah... our queen's father fought that war and he was panned on so badly-"

"He jumped off the roof of the castle."

Helly paused. "Yeah."

Bruner grabbed the bottle and chugged more booze in his cup. "That's brutal, man. I can't imagine having to deal with my kingdom against me-"

"That's history, Bruner." Helly said.

"Well, you're still going on that journey, right?"

"...Yes. It's mandatory."

Bruner's eyes sunk.

"Safe journeys then."

He was on the brink of tears. Maybe he was just drunk or truly wallowing in sadness.

"I promise i'll be back alive."

-//-

"I want revenge, Helly."

The queen rasped, his hands wringing her staff tightly.

Helly's eyes watered to his cowardice. "That feud was years ago, your Majesty. It seems pointless to continue this-"

"I don't care." she replied coldly.

"... I can't do this alone."

The queen faced her advisor, looking at the ground as he stood parallel to her throne way above. Her eyes were soulless and devoid.

"Then have someone go with you."

Helly's eyes lit up. "Who?"

"I realized you are too scrawny to go in this conquest." the queen said. "So i'm tasking some people to protect you on the journey."

Helly smiled.

"Come back tomorrow morning and i'll show them to you."

-//-

Tomorrow morning came and Helly was presented with three individuals who were way taller and stronger than his small frame. He felt terrified by their presence.

"This is Poli." the queen pointed her hand to the person wearing a shiny tinted blue suit. Poli smiled at Helly, which seemed to terrify him more. "He's alert and strong. He can protect you in dangerous situations."

"O- okay..."

The queen walked up to another man in a red suit. He looked significantly more chiseled than Poli and he was towering over him. "This is Roy. He is the brawn. He will crush anything that physically halts your journey." He looked more soft and kind than Poli.

"And lastly, this is Amber." Helly was relieved that there was a girl, not only because they looked less terrifying, but the way she held a straw briefcase in her hand. "She's an amazing healer. She can heal all your wounds in a matter of minutes. Her briefcase contains all he medicine and chemicals she uses."

Helly wondered how the queen got them to be here, or where they came from in the first place, but he forgot about it when the queen stepped down and walked up to the door. She turned around and looked at them, smiling.

"One o'clock you should all be here."

She grabbed the door handle.

"And one more thing,"

Helly's ears perked up.

"Serve revenge."

Helly's small smile didn't waver. "Yes, your Majesty." the newfound team said in unison. In a few hours they would be gone.

-//-

i love making copious amounts of aus

amirite

[ace-of-trppls]

「𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 -.2: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍」 Twst x Dark Deception Au

After escaping the 2nd realm you find yourself once again in Crowley’s chamber.

Once Crowley has congratulated you on surviving the second realm once again, an odd voice begins talking to the both of you

Whom introduces himself as “Malleus” he’s an ally who turns out to be Crowley’s sworn enemy to you at least and the very reason he needs to repair the mirror

“I’m sorry

Good luck”

Green flame, cold floor, empty windows All of which are characteristics of Crowley’s realm or what he likes to call it “The Mirror chamber” It was big built similar to a ballroom on side had multiple mirrors containing all the portals to the realms, the other there was a large French door it seemed to be sealed shut in the center of the door there was a an odd circle that looked similar to a closed eye

This was the place where I awoke after an accident it wasn’t that led to my demise, a distant memory and a foggy mind was AlI had when I had woken up that was a lie but now? Something’s wrong you can’t remember, the wolf? Ace? Deuce? All an odd blur

“Ah! You’ve done it again Yuu!”

“C-Crowley!”

And you saw the familiar crow man “Dire Crowley” a mysterious man whom promised to help you he’s using you

You’ll get your life back you don’t remember do you? Everything will be fine if you follow his command and get the mirror pieces

Ah Yes, everything will be fine just follow Crowley no doubt, none at all

“Oh my, is something wrong dear?”

“Nothing” No, you were so close!

“I…see”

Crowley looked as if he was eyeing you, watching each movement, each breath, each injury he was watching everything like a hawk yellow soulless eyes, a chilling gaze All too familiar is it?

“Oi! Birdman!”

Ah, grim was here right, is he alright? He looks good despite the previous fight he seems unchanged it’s just like him

“Oh my? Grim-y boy what’s wrong?”

“That wolf.. those to guys, Something’s missing! You did something did you!”

“Ah…oh my something odd with grim did the realms mess up something in your head?”

Crowley grabbed grim, DON’T LET HIM

grim seems to be struggling a lot HE’LL DO IT AGAIN

Someone’s yelling something. He’ll do what?

—

Fire everywhere

but it wasn’t grim his fire is blue this is green

my eyes hurt my head hurts my limbs feel numb Everything hurts Someone he’s here

Help he’ll help

He…? Yes

“Crowley”

The large French door I had mentioned earlier changed, the middle now had an odd center one that looked like a beautiful emerald Iris with a slit pupil similar to a cat It’s moving it…he? Glared at Crowley He called for Crowley right? Crowley looks worried his breath turned rigged he was still holding grim by the collar, but grim as well seemed scared

Am I missing something? Yes

“How many times must you fail in order to realize you won’t win?”

“Malleus…”

“Yes that is my name”

Malleus? Who?

“Child of man”

what an odd nick name, I wonder who that is it’s you

“I’m talking to you”

“Me…?”

“Indeed”

“ah”

“do not trust Crowley”

Huh…?

“You will regret it”

“Malleus! What are you doing here!?”

“Oh my now your talking you dammed bird, but then again, they always have been your trump card haven’t they?”

“You…! Don’t you dare plant ideas into my precious helper!”

“Ah yes your "precious helper" I wonder how truly precious they are if they suffered like this for how many times now?'

"Malleus"

Crowley's tone was weary like daring him to speak yet under that facade he was scared wasn't he? Malleus... I've heard that name before you've heard it a million times Where? You know where

"Child of man...may you choose the right ending"

What does he mean? But before I can say anything Crowley had muttered words under his breath like a spell and the eye of the door shut abruptly. Crowley had put grim down sighing, on the other hand grim stared almost as if he remembered something he wanted to share yet, wasn't't allowed to say

"my precious helper, we must collect the mirror prices as soon as possible there is no time to waste"

His voice sounded cold and demanding, as if he made a threat rather than a command. He grabbed my hand not caring that I had just nearly died and eaten. He gave me one last glare before aggressively throwing me into the next realm

"you better not fail me again"

[predvestnik]

@ccaptain asked from here:

⏳️ hehe

The stench of rot and decay clings to the memory of a figure smaller than its hostile. It wanders the snowy plains like a phantom whose limbs leave a trail of red in its wake and gaze glows a soulless blue. When it moves, calculated and perpetually on the prowl, its aura is distinctly dense, desperate, as it leaves behind an afterimage that fades in and out of view as if not meant to exist in the arcane veins stretching beneath the soil of the northern borders.

Its power is unknown, even for the frame of a boy no older than fourteen. It grips a rusty sword with the might of a newborn warrior and a beast in search of vengeance both — how it holds the blade in the direction of the adult who's trespassed its broad space is dissonant to the pubescent pitch of its voice, crackling characteristically at the edges of its words upon issuing a simple warning. ❛ Halt, ❜ it commands fearlessly but with a cautionary flair. Its skin is undisturbed by the gelid breeze lapping at both of them, its body eerily sustaining the oppressing weather despite the tattered clothes wrapping around its form.

Dry blood and viscera stain the space under its nails, the pommel of its sword and the tips of its hair, already sunset-colored and much softer than the sharpness of its glower. It has seen and vanquished demons whose spirits faintly resembled the one brought to his presence by the outlander. ❛ Did you, too, come from the depths? I can sense it, you are not from here. ❜ It doesn't flinch nor waver, each Snezhnayan word leaping from its tongue to quench its curiosity, as well as its thirst for a fight. ❛ Leave, now. ❜