#red panther speaks

[kaccvcate]

Really proud of my friend today. He's schizophrenic and when I met him he was in the most unstable delusional state I've ever seen. Well, I never argue with my schizo friends' most severe delusions (such as believing they are working in the fbi, or simultaneously in new york and serving in afghanistan, while also being a wolf and living unemployed in a mental health facility.) These things seem obviously impossible but it's not easy to physically demonstrate how, and verbal argument is pretty stressful for a psychotic - in a delusional state it's much easier to believe your friends are all liars. But I talked to him a little around them, and admitted that sometimes I struggle to understand him even though I try, and today he suddenly told me his actual name and said he's in the first lucid state he's been in in years. He's takin a break off facebook to get his life together. Hope it lasts bro 👍

[kaccvcate]

In Muskoke tradition I was taught that animal races are older than humans, and since we're new on the earth we can gain wisdom through studying them. I think nonhuman animals demonstrate their higher intelligence every day, to me the evidence is quite overwhelming.

"We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth."

- The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod by Henry Beston, 1928

[puck-luck]

MY OPINIONS ON EACH NHL TEAM! (PART 1)

[feirceangel]

Imagine | Mine (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Imagine Feyd discovering that someone has dared to harm what’s his.

Word Count: 1,574

Warnings: possessive!Feyd, objectification, blood, murder, (Feyd is his own psychotic warning in himself to be honest.)

Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is not known for his mercy.

Ask anyone in the universe who has heard even a whisper of House Harkonnen, and they will warn to tread carefully when dealing with them. If you value your life, you wouldn't even get near them.

And everyone knows Feyd-Rautha is one of the best examples of Harkonnen rage and violence, second only to his uncle, the Baron.

Renowned for his physical prowess as a fighter, his insatiable lust for blood and death, and his determination to rise in power and favour, he is a force to be reckoned with.

So why would anyone dare go against him?

He finds himself asking this as he looks upon your form, head bowed and turned slightly away from him. Hiding something.

Gracefully and predatory as a panther, he approaches you slowly.

"My darling.." his voice rasps.

Normally you greet him immediately, recognizing his footfalls from down the hall. You would smile at your na-Baron and ask him how his day went if you did not spend it with him.

You are oddly subdued tonight.

His eyes, always searching, follow a drop which falls from your cheek, landing on the cold concrete floor. Instantly, he is before you, grasping your chin in his strong hand. He tilts your head up, none too gently, and examines your tear-stained face.

"What happened?" His already raspy voice is deeper, darker.

Feyd is no stranger to your tears. In fact, he often revels in their presence, trying all sorts of things to make you cry. But he hasn't done anything to illicit that response today.

When you don't offer an answer right away, his grip tightens, squishing your cheeks together.

"Speak."

His voice holds no room for disobedience. You nod your head and he releases you, stepping back slightly.

You shake slightly as you begin, "I am sorry, na-Baron."

Feyd's anger is growing. You only call him that in public or when you are disturbed.

"Do not apologize. Explain," he can't stop himself from hissing.

"I took a walk today," you begin slowly. "Just to the training grounds to see if you were there. But I didn't see you so I walked back. He stopped me and-"

"'He'?" Feyd echoes.

"Richter," you supply the name of one of the Baron's top generals. "He grabbed me and said I was a no-good whore who should've been disposed of long ago."

Anger swirls with Feyd's chest at this news. Of course, many people have said harsh and often cruel things to you. But you always kept your head high and ignored the jabs. You’re always so strong.

This is different, he can tell.

"What else? You are not one to cry over a mere insult," he brings his hand up to swipe a tear from your soft cheek. You lean into his touch, relishing in its familiarity.

You inhale deeply, "He struck me without warning, na-Baron."

In his oft colourless word, all Feyd now sees is red.

"Where?" His voice is so low it's almost impossible to hear.

You shake as you lower the collar of your dress to reveal a swollen area on your shoulder, "Here."

His dark eyes flicker to yours, bidding you to continue.

You move your hand to your face and gently touch your tearstained cheek, "And here."

Feyd's hand clenches into a fist. He bends closer to examine your face, noting the slight swelling and the way you bow your head. He places his hand on the back of your head, angling your face upwards. A featherlight kiss is applied to your skin so softly you can barely feel it.

Your master and lover rises to his full height, "Rest my darling, I shall return shortly."

He turns to leave but you reach out and grab his arm. Feyd stops and turns to stare at you.

"Please, na-Baron. Don't hurt him."

He scowls at your request, "He has hurt you. Death is his reward."

"He has done nothing that you have not," you say. "I have known worse pain from your own hands.”

Feyd shakes his head and grips your arms, dragging you forward to stand with your bodies touching.

"Only I can touch what's mine. Only I can hurt you how I see fit. You take the pain only I give you." He dips his head close to your ear, breath sending shivers down your spine. “Do you understand?”

"Of course, my lord na-Baron," your voice is breathy.

You are intoxicated by his closeness, the dangerous poise with which he caries himself, the possessiveness of his words and the truth of them.

"Say it."

"I'm yours alone, Feyd."

He crashes his lips onto yours, teeth clashing and lips bruising from the force of it. His hand squeezes your neck as he kisses you. When he finally parts, leaving you breathless, he takes a moment to admire you. His thumb brushes against your lips before he turns once more.

"That swine sealed his fate when he laid hands on what's mine," Feyd growls as he stalks out of the room.

He returns mere minutes later, dragging an incredibly nervous Richter behind him. With a violent shove, he pushes the frightened man to stand before you.

"I heard you disrespected my darling," Feyd points to the floor. "Kneel."

Richter obeys without hesitation. He knows how quick Feyd is to anger… and how few survive it.

"Kiss her shoe."

The man's eyes flicker to yours.

"Now," Feyd places his foot on Richter's back, forcing him down.

Shakily, he presses his lips to your shoe with a mumbled apology. It does nothing to sate Feyd-Rautha's wrath.

With practised ease, Feyd lands a harsh kick to the man's ribs. He repeats the action until the man is a sobbing mess splayed before your feet like an offering.

You regard him coldly, remembering the bite of his hand across your face.

“Please! Please forgive me, my lord!” Richter manages to sob coherent words. Spit and blood dribbles from his mouth pathetically.

“You have insulted me,” Feyd states. “Hurt what’s mine, belittled what’s mine.”

The man’s hand reaches towards your foot, as if you could spare him from the savage that is Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

Feyd crushes his hand beneath his shoe, grinding down eliciting a whimper of pain, as he steps before you and above his prey.

He is regal in his violence, eyes shining with possessive obsession.

“Dear one,” he places his hand on your arm before handing you one of his blades. “Help me.”

He smirks as you grip the knife tightly. Your eyes meet his.

Feyd knows you’d do anything he asked of you, just as he knows he’d burn the universe to ashes if you asked him too.

“Of course, my lord,” you say, kneeling by the hurt man. “If it pleases you.”

Feyd’s grin reveals blackened teeth, “You please me, dearest. Now, make him suffer for insulting me and mine.”

The first cut is shallow, uncertain as it travels down the man’s bare arm. Feyd tsks his disapproval.

You adjust your grip and slash again, quickly this time, hitting deep and pointedly. The man screams out and thrashes, but Feyd is upon him in a second. He holds Richter still as you unleash your rage upon him.

Feyd watches you draw blood with a pleasure he’s never experienced before. Relishing in your bared teeth and angry snarls, he commits this to his memory.

He halts your hand as the man ceases his thrashing. With a predatory smile, Feyd guides your hand with his, penetrating the blade deep into the man’s throat.

You watch the man loose his life, as you pant with exertion.

“You have done well, my pet,” Feyd praises, removing the knife from your hand and tossing it aside. He places his hand atop your head.

“Thank you, Feyd.”

He moves his hand down your back and presses his face into your blood stained neck, inhaling deeply. Your hands come around to grasp his shoulders, bringing him close to you. He wraps his strong arms around you, holding you like a lover would.

When he sits up, you lunge forward, capturing his lips with yours. Ignoring the blood and the dead body on the floor, you guide Feyd towards the bed, hands leaving bloody marks on his pale skin.

“Please let me repay you,” you beg, tugging at his shirt. “Allow me to repent.”

“You don’t need to repent, love. But you can keep begging.”

He allows you to disrobe him and press him down onto the soft bedding.

In all honesty, Feyd craves this battle of dominance between you. He could overpower you in an instant, yet the hold you have over him has him bending to your will.

You need only beg and he would take a knee and worship at your feet.

And you know it.

You know he craves this, needs it like an addict. He adores the pain you can lavish upon him, adores the meek demeanour you show to everyone else, adores the side of you that matches his own carnal desires tenfold, adores the way you gladly bleed for him.

He adores you.

And you worship each other in a wicked ritual of blood, sweat, and tears each night.

And he’d never let anyone take this away from him- take you away from him.

He’d kill anyone who dared try.

~~~

[A/n- thanks for reading! Please let me know if you liked it :)]

[bleached-latina]

Mommy Issues (Seonghwea Smut MDNI)

Summary: What happens when you're cuddling your boyfriend and without thinking, you make a comment about another member of Ateez?

There is just filth under the cut, so MDNI brb I'm gonna go dunk myself in Holy Water

In hindsight, you never should’ve challenged your boyfriend like this. But god damn it was it fun.

All because of a damn TikTok. That cursed app got you in trouble so much, but what’s life without a little risk?

Nothing at the start of the evening was out of the norm after Seonghwa got off tour, cuddles while he played Animal Crossing and you doom scrolled TikTok.

Not remembering that you weren’t alone after months of that being the case, you spoke without thinking.

“Damn, those poor San stans, fuck!” You couldn’t help the blush that crawled up your cheeks at seeing your boyfriend’s friend get chained up before Wake Up.

“Come again?” Said boyfriend asked, a brow risen above his glasses.

“Nothing baby,” You patted his head, hoping it would help him forget the words that left your lips moments ago.

Spoiler alert, it didn’t.

“No, what did you just say kitten?” You gulped at the tone Seonghwa used. It was the one that he used when he meant business. And if that didn’t give it away, the use of the word kitten definitely made it crystal clear.

You shook your head, not wanting to awaken the possessive side of your boyfriend. 

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you two so he was on top of you, your hands pinned above your head by one of his large hands.

“I think my kitten is being naughty. What do we do when she’s being naughty?”

“Punish her,” You mumbled, not wanting him to hear you.

“I’m sorry, speak up, I couldn’t hear you,” You shook your head. He grasped your chin in his other large hand.

“I said speak up,” His voice deepened as he slipped into his more dominant persona. The one that made you shake and cry for him either to stop or keep going.

“I don’t wanna,” You whimpered.

“Why not?” He demanded.

“Bcause,”

“Because why?”

“I don’t wanna get punished,” You finally gave him what he wanted. So he had heard you right. And from the look in his hard almost black eyes, he had your punishment picked out.

“Pick a number over 5,”

“Eight,” He smiled a little, knowing why you picked that number. He sat you on his lap. His eyes tracking you like a panther waiting for his prey to enter the trap.

“Bend over Kitten,” You obeyed, resting your belly on your boyfriend’s lap with your ass in the air.

“Good girl,” He purred before ripping your lounge pants down your legs, knowing full well that you weren’t wearing panties since you two were originally winding down  for bed after your shower together.

“Count for me,” You nodded.

Smack

“1,” Your voice was clear in his ears, despite the handprint that was starting to become visible.

Smack

“2,”

Smack

“3,” Your voice started to waver a bit as you felt his large hand start to sting.

Smack

“4,” It started to burn now, making a tear leave your eyes.

“You’re halfway there baby girl,” He switched hands as his first hand started to now sting from spanking you as hard as he could.

Smack

“5,”

Smack

“6,” Your voice wavered as the smacks started to reverberate and spread to the place you now needed him the most.

Smack

“7,”

“You can take one more. This is your punishment, not mine. And you picked the number, not me,”

Smack

“8,”

“Good girl,” He slowly started to massage your now cherry red ass.

“You might as well ride me, Kitten. Since you can’t lay back,” He leaned back, patting his lap, where his cock was strained against his gray sweats.

You swung your legs to straddle him, determined to mess with his head and drive him insane.

“Gotta get rid of these,”

“Who’s the boss here, you or me? Huh? Who was the one being a little slut on TikTok. Looking at someone other than me,” He punctuated every sentence with a roll of his hips, the friction on your bare core making your head swim. 

“You, and I was the bad one,” You whimpered.

“Yes, you were being a bad girl kitten. Now for your punishment,”

“You spanked me! Wasn’t that punishment?”

“That was only part of it. Now’s when the punishment really begins.You’re not allowed to cum until I say so,”

“Okay but no using your tongue. That’s not punishment, that’s torture,” he grasped your chin in one of his large hands again, forcing you to lok him in the eyes.

“First off, who made you think you were in charge of your own punishment? And secondly, who said anything about eating that pretty pussy? But now that you mention it,” he got a devious smirk over his plump lips.

Oh shit!

“If it keeps your eyes from wandering, what’s pleasure without a little suffering? Plus I’m starving,” he growled as he threw you onto the bed, crawling up your body, lapping at your legs. As he got to your thighs, he started to suck harder, even biting a bit. At least enough to give you that sweet mix of pain and pleasure that you oh so craved while he was on tour. You moaned as he inched closer and closer to your heat.

Nothing compared to how your boyfriend ate you out, knowing exactly what areas to put more pressure on than others in order to send you to the heavens. Your hands flew to his hair, wrapping it tightly in your face, making a moan leave Seonghwa’s puffy pink lips.

The moans from him caused a vibration to rub on your pearl, making your own moan rip through the air, and your back to arch.

You were only stopped from him putting one of his large hands on your stomach to keep you still. When he introduced his long dexterous fingers to the mix, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Without warning, he stood up, stripping off his own lounge pants.

“I want to feel you cum on me,” He explained before entrapping your lips in a heated kiss. One where he dominated, and you let him. Seeing as you trying to avoid it was what got you partially in this predicament in the first place.

In record timing, he had his pants down, his cock springing free: red and angry from being hard for so long without release. As quick as he was off you, he was back on you, slipping into your damp heat.

With how long he was on tour, you had to take a second to reacquaint yourself with how big he was.

“Fuck Kitten! You’re so tight. I’m almost afraid to move. Almost,” he smirked before pulling your lips into another kiss and rocking his hips. You had to grasp his hair in your hands. You needed to pull on something, and your boyfriend’s silky jet black locks worked perfectly.

“I can tell you’re close Kitten. Cum for me,” He ordered and it was like you were pulled down in the tidal wave of pleasure at his words, not realizing how much you both needed this.

“Atta girl, Just keep listening to me Kitten,” He acted as your lifeboat in the tidal wave, keeping you grounded to your body.

“F-Fuck!” He hissed before you could finally make out his contorted features as he let his own pleasure fill him before filling you to the brim.

Once you both were back on Earth, the first thing Hwa saw was you running your fingers through his silky locks.

“I love you,” You whispered as his eyes fluttered and he could slowly piece together all of your features. The sex hair leading to the look of bliss in your eyes, and finally, all of the hickeys he left on your skin.

You attempted to stand to get water for both of you and some baby wipes to clean up. Except your legs weren’t cooperating.

“Damn Hwa, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to walk for a bit,” You giggled and he chuckled, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’ve got you Kitten,” He told you before throwing a robe on and getting the recoup items.

“It’ll make you think twice about looking at San, right?” He chuckled, handing you the water bottle.

“I don’t know, seeing you get all possessive was kinda fucking hot,”

Taglist: @the-princess-of-mischief-1998 @multidreams-and-desires @faeratil

Read the other guys here: Hongjoong, Mingi, Wooyoung

[kumkaniudaku]

Merry Christmas, Baby

Summary: Terry and Nyla work together to bring Patrice some Christmas cheer.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Language

Previous: Back Up

Santa came down the chimney 

Half past three, y'all 

Left all them a good ol' present 

For my baby and for me, ha, ha, ha

Terry bopped his head along to Otis Redding’s classic playing from some soul Christmas station he found on Spotify as he examined his handiwork with a mouth full of baby fingers and no idea what he was doing. 

When he set off to decorate the house on Patrice’s behalf, he hadn’t considered all of the meticulous planning that went into her creating their personal Winter Wonderland. Ribbons needed careful tying to make beautiful bows. Garlands he thought could be tossed on any surface he chose required deliberate care to achieve their festive flare. And, to his surprise, Christmas trees out of the box did not come pre-fluffed.

He was so confident that he could start and finish his side project in his mother’s final hour of childcare that he didn’t change out of his office attire. The tightness of a half-buttoned polo and stiff slacks with a sleepy little girl cradled in the crook of his arm reminded him of just how wrong he was.

Clear bins labeled by function and location crowded their quaint living room with Patrice’s arrival coming quicker than he was prepared for. He squinted at the tree, trying to understand how he’d managed to put every single ornament on only the front while leaving the back side bare. The sensation of Nyla’s fingers tightening their grip on his bottom lip brought his attention from the eye sore he’d created to the four-month-old with her mother’s smile. He pretended to gnaw on her hands. 

“What you looking at, girl, hm? You watching Daddy tear up Mommy’s tree?”

Sleepy baby giggles lit up her round face and dark eyes as her pacifier bobbed in her mouth, thoroughly entertained by her father’s voice and smile. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before smoothing a hand over her soft hair. 

“Hopefully she likes it. Mama hasn’t been feeling like herself so we gotta bring the Christmas joy for her. What you think? Did I do a good job?” He adjusted Nyla in his arms to turn her toward the tree for her opinion. She squirmed in his grip, whining and fussing before releasing a small cry as the only way to communicate that she’d seen enough. He took the hint with a chuckle. “Oh-kay. You are Patrice’s child, I’ll tell you that.”

With Nyla providing lively company, Terry adjusted and re-adjusted earth-toned ornaments of all sizes in a failing attempt to salvage his surprise. She cooed along to Terry’s chatter about work, music, and life, offering commentary here and there like a child who’d been speaking for years.

He listened to her grunt and kick at the mention of watching football on Sunday and smiled. “Maybe me and you can go to a game together one day. Don’t get your hopes up for the Panthers being good though baby girl.”

Nyla laughed as if she understood Terry’s jokes, making him laugh in response. From the foyer, their back and forth sounded perfectly ridiculous to Patrice’s already scrambled mind. Motherhood had come with an unexpected price. Every day came with the overwhelming responsibility of balancing work and home life. Months away from her desk only to return during the end of semester swirl made reaclimating to eight hours away from home grueling. Her emotions were a jumbled mess that she traversed on a fraying tightrope. Exhaustion was her default setting these days. No matter how much her family assisted her, there were never enough hours in the day. 

A sigh of relief rushed between parted lips as she pressed her back against the front door to seal her home from the frigid early evening wind. A single minute of tranquility couldn’t erase the day she’d had, but it came close. The rest needed the help of her two favorite people in the world. 

The alarm’s chime stopped Nyla and Terry’s conversation, alerting them to their queen’s arrival. 

“Petey! You’re home,” Terry exclaimed from the living room. 

Patrice scoffed and rolled her eyes as she placed bags on the ground. “Don’t play with me, Terrence. I don’t wanna have to knock you out in front of your best friend.”

“I’m not worried about it. She got my back. Right, MiMi? You got Daddy’s back?” Patrice smiled at Nyla’s squeal in response, listening and watching it intensify as Terry appeared in the foyer. 

His standing there, tall and thick with a baby carefully balanced in his arms and an incredible softness in his eyes, instantly awakened senses that had long taken the day off. 

“How you doin’, beautiful?” 

“I was exhausted until I saw you. You married or just out here fine for no reason?”

He chuckled at her shameless flirting and flashed his ring. “Happily married. She a little off in the head too, so be careful.” 

“That was perfect. Make sure you say it just like that every time.” 

Terry closed the gap between them, pressing quick kisses to her forehead and lips as he helped her shrug out of her coat with his free hand. 

“Was your day okay,” he asked, a hand gripping her elbow to hold her steady while she kicked off her boots. She shrugged. 

“I didn’t feel like crying by the end so that’s a step up, right?”

“Sure, but I don’t want sad at all. Is there anything I can do?”

Patrice attempted to answer Terry’s concern with a weak smile. “No, but I appreciate you lookin’ out for me. I’ll get better. For now, let's talk about this smiling girl instead. Come here, my sunshine!” 

Nyla kicked her little feet and panted from excitement as she transitioned from one set of arms to the next. She worked overtime to ward off sleep for dueling kisses on both cheeks from doting parents elated to have their baby girl earth side. 

Terry pulled away from family time to collect the heap of bags left by the door. “What’s all this?” 

“Just me tryin’ to find some Christmas cheer. I figured we could bake some cookies with Ny before she goes to bed. Then we can have a drink, order in, and watch a movie or something? I don’t know. Tell me if that sounds stupid.” 

Uncertainty was thick in her delivery. She hadn’t been sure of anything in the past four months. Herself, her parenting skills, being a good wife, her teaching - nothing. The need for validation was growing more dire by the day. 

“We can do whatever you want, baby. I’ll dress up like Santa if you need me to.”

His affirmation came with a gentle kiss and a slight squeeze to her backside that made her giggle like a teenager in the presence of her crush. “Thank you, Pooh. You hear that, Naomi? Daddy’s gonna dress up like Santa and let Mommy sit on his lap.”

“That ain’t all Mommy can sit on but we have to wait until you’re asleep for that part.” His joke came with a suggestive eyebrow raise that incited a hearty guffaw and butterflies in Patrice’s belly. She leaned in to rest her forehead on his chest for as much touch as she could handle. He rested his chin atop her head to speak. “There’s a surprise for you in the living room if you’re up for it.”  

“Does this surprise have something to do with my baby being drenched in all this glitter?”

“No. That’s courtesy of her grandma and her outfit earlier today. You know your mama loves sparkles.”

Patrice attempted to dust silver flecks from Nyla’s face to no avail. “Then lay it on me. I’m ready to be surprised. At least I think. I never know when you two get in cahoots.” 

True enough. Terry and Nyla usually found a way to cause havoc, whether in the middle of the night with a dance party or throughout the day with a host of loud distractions. Terry couldn’t deny his propensity to look for trouble with his partner in crime, but he could convince Patrice that, this time, their mischief was something she’d enjoy. 

Carefully, he pulled Nyla from Patrice’s arms and led her into the living room with strict instructions to keep her eyes covered until he gave her permission. Anticipation had Patrice nervously bouncing from foot to foot while she waited for the signal. Nothing in her immediate area gave away what she might see on the other side of an extended blink. There were no smells outside of something hearty with a hint of spice simmering nearby. The soft murmur of what sounded like Christmas music didn’t seem out of place. She attempted to feel for clues with one hand out in front but came up empty. 

“Can I open my eyes now,” she asked for the third time. 

Terry chuckled as he positioned her in the center of the room. “You’re so impatient, baby.” 

“Now, don’t make me start on you. We just had our first wedding anniversary on our original wedding date but I’m impatient?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Open your eyes before you go too far.”

All of Patrice’s smug laughter slowed to a halt as her eyes feasted on every detail in the room. Crooked garlands dusted in artificial snow adorned the fireplace. Gaps in the Christmas tree created portals to the blank wall behind it. Ornaments sat jumbled together with no rhyme or reason. The skirt meant to hide the unsightly plastic tree stand was comically flipped inside out. Her Christmas star, passed down from her mama’s mama sat glittering under soft white light, waiting to take its rightful place on top of her most eclectic tree to date. 

Each imperfection made her heart swell ten times its size, creating a steady stream of tears that coated her cheeks. 

She released a shaky breath, the sound betraying the emotions she attempted to keep at bay while she marveled at the tree with her back turned to her helpers. “Oh wow. You did all this for me?” 

“When I told Ny how much you love Christmas she was like, ‘Dad, we should do something for Mommy since we love her so much.’ It was all her idea. I only opened my wallet. And put stuff together. And held her the whole time because she hates her mat.”

“Yeah,” she asked, laughing to release nerves and wiping at her face as she finally turned to face them. “You talk that much, little girl?” 

“Oh, she’s a great conversationalist. Give her a little formula and she’ll yap all day.”

Patrice stepped closer to rub her nose across her daughter's cheek, inhaling the fresh baby scent that never failed to calm her often racing thoughts.

“This is…so sweet. It’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she started. “It’s been kinda tough to get excited this go round. I can’t really find that spark like before and I’m trying so hard.”

“I know. You’re doing a great job, Mama. A perfect job. I wouldn’t wanna be doing all this with anybody else,” Terry reassured while he pulled her into a hug. 

She wrapped her arms around his waist, squeezing with all the love in her body when no words could get past the heavy lump in her throat. The leak in her emotional dam had erupted into a crater, turning small tears into a near sob that made her head hurt. She’d cried all of her sadness away in the dead of night or when sitting in traffic between work and home. This was happiness. An unmistakable joy and gratefulness for being blessed beyond her wildest imagination. 

Terry didn’t intervene or coax her into deep breaths to stop her crying. Instead, he held her close with one arm and alternated loving pecks between her head and Nyla’s face as the infant rested on his shoulder for comfort. Her tiny hand reached out to leave little pats against Patrice’s forehead, finally making her giggle as her crying paused. 

“You’re right. Mommy needs to get it together,” she laughed. “I’m killin’ the vibe big time.”

Terry chuckled. “MiMi cried when I showed her, too. Is this a happy cry or do you hate it?”

“I love it and I love y’all. So much. So, so much.”

“We love you more than we can put into words. You know, since one of us literally can’t talk.” 

Patrice's belly laugh made Terry grin from ear to ear in triumph. His chief concern was bringing her happiness, even if only for a few hours. He’d take today as a win and try to top it for the rest of his life. 

Wiping fresh tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath and received another whiff of the aroma wafting from the kitchen reminding her that she was starving from a day of educating the leaders of tomorrow. She hummed at the smell with her eyes closed. “Why didn’t you say you cooked? What is that? It smells good.”

“That is your other surprise. Think about it and tell me what you think it could be.” 

Hints of cayenne and the spice of fresh jalapenos made her nose tingle. Something warm and sweet followed as the perfect accessory to the savoriness commanding attention. The smell felt familiar. It felt like her childhood. It felt like home. 

Her eyes shot open and up to his in sudden realization. “Daddy’s chili! Really? Is that what that is?”

“I owe him some help in the shed but it’s worth it for you. Hope it brings back some magic for you.” Patrice stared at Terry, eyes misty and lips drooping in a deep frown that confused him. “Wait, what did I -”

“Oh my God, whyareyousoperfect!?” 

All of her words came out in another muffled sob as she dramatically buried her face into his chest. He couldn’t help but tease her, whispering comments about her theatrics and how she could’ve been a movie star from her ability to burst into hysterics at the drop of a hat. 

Drooping eyelids from their pride and joy forced them to share hushed laughter while Patrice regained enough of her composure to help add the finishing touches to their first Christmas display as a unit. Watching Patrice gently bounce Nyla to sleep while she adjusted ornaments and decor to her liking filled Terry with enough warm fuzzies to make him blink back emotions he didn’t know he had brewing. 

He had a family.

For all the ups, downs, and haymakers life had thrown him, he had two people looking up at him like the sun rose and set in his eyes. The thought alone took him back to his first time in the same spot with a pecan pie and a carefully wrapped gift in his hands. 

Terry slowly approached Patrice from behind to assist her in the effort to place the topper where it belonged. “Remember our first Christmas together?” 

“The one when you stayed too long and had your mama worried,” she laughed. “Yeah, I remember. Now look at you. Still over here after all this time.”

“I always knew what and who I wanted.” His declaration came with silly, loud smooches to her exposed neck while they wiggled the star into place atop the tree.  

Perfection. Patrice smiled at their joint effort and the feel of Terry holding her and Nyla close. She angled her head to watch him shower their little one in soft kisses.

“Hey,” she called to get his attention. “Merry Christmas, baby. Thank you. For everything.” 

He met her thanks with a tender kiss and the gentle graze of his lips against hers, sharing a silent conversation between lovers that needed no explanation. 

“Of course. Merry Christmas, honey.”

-----

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[stalkerofthegods]

Lord Dionysus/Bacchus deep dive

Lord Dionysus is an eccentric god, He is an understanding god, I adore him as a researcher and as someone in the community with schizophrenia and mental illness, he is kind far beyond words, he is not only a wine god but also the god of freedom and ecstasy, may we all respect him and may his devotees and worshipers speak of his good deeds and yell in his honor of goodness.

Signs he's reaching out • smelling wine all of a sudden, craving wine, You feel a twinge of madness, dreams with his attributes with him, seeing references of him everywhere

Herbs •psalakanthos plant, Grapes and their vines, Figs, Bay laurel, Barley, Pine, Pomegranate, Fennel, apples, berries, weed, Silver Fir, Bindweed, poppy, wheat and hops leafs, wildflowers, pine cones, Apple seeds, Blazing star. I think he would like Cinnamon, mint, feverfew (happiness), Pepper, basil, chives, horseradish (courage), orange, lemongrass, marjoram (insight), vanilla, sorrel, cinnamon (love) 

Animals• Oxen and wild animals, asses, Leopards, Panther, Cheetah, serpents, rams,  dolphins, tigers, lynx, panthers, goats, bats, griffons, bulls , foxes, deers/fawns

Colors •purple, green, gold, Red, Black, White.

Patron of• fruit and intoxitation, Parties, Festivities, Banquets, Drinking, Bacchic Revelry, Madness, Bacchic Frenzy, Insanity, Hallucination, Homosexuality, Effeminacy, Cross-dressing, Forest Wilderness, Wild vegetation, Predatory big cats, Reincarnation, The path to Elysium, Comedy and Tragedy Plays, Playwrites, Actors, bartenders, the arts, non-binary people, divination, witchcraft, oracles

Curses• violence, and sickness, Destructive insanity, madness

Blessings• pleasure and fun, Religious frenzy (in the orgiastic cults), Ecstasy, Afterlife in Elysium (paradise), getting a bigger friend group, charismatic going up, getting a romantic partner.

Diety of• wine-making, orchards, fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, theatre, partying, Epiphany, weddings, death, sacrifice, sexuality, dancing, immortality, and reincarnation, uninhibited freedom, as well as the subversion of the powerful, ecstasy, and abandon, swamps and marshes.

Crystals• Amethyst, grape agate, Garnet, Ruby, deep red stones, tiger eye, serpentine, leopard jasper, amber, green opal or jade, carnelian, rose quartz (someone had it on their alter for him, so I added it here.), bloodstone, sugilite, purple fluorite, ametrine lepidolite

Mortal or immortal • immortal

Zodiac • Taruas 

Vows/omans• none 

Number• 7 

Morals• he is morally ambiguous

Married to• Ariadne 

Past lovers• Althaia, Ampelos, Aphrodite, Erigone, Kronois, Pallene, Physokoa, Polymnos.

What he favors in devotees• free-spirited, out-of-the-norm, wild lifestyle, gender fluid, transgender, nonbinary people. People are restricted wanting to become free. 

Personality• He brings joy, ecstasy, and merriment, but also delivers "brutal and blinding rage”, he's a very chill guy, many say he is sassy. I met him once, and he respects people's boundaries.

Home• Mount Olympus 

Equivalents/most resemblance • Osiris, Hades, Sabazios, Yahweh, Bacchus, Liber, Tammuz, Orotalt, Fufluns, Acan, Jesus.

Epithets• Acratophorus, Ἀκρατοφό.ρος “giver of unmixed wine at Phigaleia in arcadia, Acroreites at Sicyon Adoneus a Latinised form of Adonis and is also used as an epithet for Bacchus, AegobolusΑἰγοβόλος "goat-shooter" at Potniae in Boeoria, Aesymnetes Αἰσυμνήτης “ruler" or "lord" at Aroë and Patrae in Achaea, Agrios Ἄγριος "wild", in Macedonia, Androgynos Ἀνδρόγυνος ”Androgynous” specifically in intercourse referring to the god taking both an active male and a passive female role, Anthroporraistes, Ἀνθρωπορραίστης “man-destroyer" a title of Dionysus at Tenedos, Bassareus, Βασσαρεύς "fox-skin", which item was worn by his cultists in their mysteries. Bougenes, Βουγενής or Βοηγενής “borne by a cow", in the Mysteries of Lerna,

Braetes, Βραίτης "related to beer" at Thrace, Briseus Βρῑσεύς "he who prevails" in Smyrna, Bromios Βρόμιος "roaring” and "roar of thunder" refering to the wind amd primarily relating to the central death/resurrection element of his myths and also the god's transformations into lion and bull and  of those who drink alcohol and refers to Dionysus' father, Zeus "the thunderer", Choiropsalasχοιροψάλας “pig-plucker" Greek χοῖρος = "pig"(which was  used as a slang term for the female genitalia as A reference to Dionysus's role as a fertility deity), Chthonios Χθόνιος “the subterranean”, Cistophorus Κιστοφόρος "basket-bearer and ivy-bearer" because baskets are sacred to the Dionysus,Dimetor Διμήτωρ "twice-born" which Refers to Dionysus's two births, Dendrites Δενδρίτης "he of the trees" as a fertility god, Dithyrambos Διθύραμβος used at his festivals referring to his premature birth, Eleutherios Ἐλευθέριος “the liberator" also a epithet shared with Eros, Endendros ("he in the tree"), Enorches "with balls" with reference to his fertility, or "in the testicles" in reference to Zeus' sewing the baby Dionysus "into his thigh" which means his testicles used in Samos and Lesbos, Eridromos"good-running" in Nonnus' Dionysiaca, Erikryptos Ἐρίκρυπτος "completely hidden" in Macedonia, Euaster Εὐαστήρ from the cry "euae",  Euius (Euios), from the cry "euae" in lyric passages, and in Euripides’ play “the bacche, Lacchus Lακχος a possible epithet which is associated with the Elusinian Mysteries, The name "Iacchus" may come from the Ιακχος (Iakchos) whicj is a hymn sung in honor of Dionysus.

Indoletes, Ἰνδολέτης, meaning slayer/killer of Indians Due to his campaign against the Indians, Isodaetes, Ισοδαίτης, meaning "he who distributes equal portions", cult epithet which is also shared with Helios, Kemilius, Κεμήλιος and kemas: "young deer, pricket",

Liknites "he of the winnowing fan", as a fertility god connected with mystery religions ( a winnowing fan was used to separate the chaff from the grain.)

Palazzo Massimo, Rome, Lenaius, Ληναῖος "god of the wine-press", Lyaeus, or Lyaios Λυαῖος, "deliverer” and "loosener") which refers to him as who releases from care and anxiety, 

Lysius, Λύσιος "delivering, releasing" At Thebes there was a temple of Dionysus Lysius, MelanaigisΜελάναιγις "of the black goatskin" at the Apaturia festival, 

Morychus Μόρυχος “smeared" in Sicily, because his icon was smeared with wine less at the vintage, Mystes Μύστης "of the mysteries" at Tegea in Arcadia, Nysian Nύσιος according to Philostatus he was called like this by the Ancient indians  Most probably, because according to legend he founded the city of Nysa, Oeneus, Οἰνεύς "wine-dark" as god of the wine press, Omadios “flesh-eater", Eusebius writes in Preparation for the gospel that Euelpis of Carystus states that in Chios and Tendos they did a human sacrifice to Dionysus Omadios, 

Phallen , (Φαλλήν) (probably "related to the phallus” at Lesbos, Phleus "related to the bloοm of a plant", Peudanor Ψευδάνωρ "false man" referring to his feminine qualities in Macedonia,

Pericionius, Περικιόνιος "climbing the column (ivy)" a name of Dionysus at Thebes, Semeleios or Semeleius or Semeleus an obscure epithet meaning 'He of the Earth' and 'son of Semele' Also “Son of Semele, Iakchus, wealth-giver”, 

Skyllitas, Σκυλλίτας “related to the vine-branch" at Kos, Sykites, Συκίτης "related to figs" at Laconia,Taurophagus, Ταυροφάγος “bull eating", Tauros Ταῦρος “a bull", Theoinus, Θέοινος wine-god of a festival in Attica, Τhyiοn, Θυίων "from the festival of Dionysus 'Thyia' (Θυῐα) at Elis", Thyllophorus, Θυλλοφόρος "bearing leaves" at Kos, Dionysus and Zeus absorbs the role of Sabazios (a Thracian/Phrygian deity)

Facts• Dionysus was the last god to enter Olympus, When Dionysus had grown up lady Hera made him into a state of madness so he wandered through many countries of the earth, He was a student of the famous centaur Chiron who taught him how to dance, The common names Dennis and Denise are said to be derived from Dionysus. he hated the sight of an owl

Roots• Ancient Greece, Greek mythology, Mount Pramnos on Ikaria

Offerings • Honey, Meat, Alcohol (especially wine), Fruit, Cakes, Poetry, Songs, Spices (ex- cinnamon), Blood or liquids resembling blood, He thinks those "wine mom" signs that you get in cheap gift shops are hilarious, Grape juice, Intoxicants, Grapes, Olive oil, Apples, Figs, Eggs, Goblets, Curved daggers, Bull horns, Snake skin, Leopard or tiger print objects, Purple candles, Theatre masks, Sexual toys, Percussion instruments, Wine bottles, Fake/toy grapes, Leaves or curls from grapevines, Pine needles, Pinecones, Apple seeds, Bindweed, Wildflowers, Toys photos or art of any big cats, snakes, Hymns, Songs you’ve written, Any art that you create, Any stories that you create, Art, pictures of the comedy, Wine corks, Wine labels, Toy or miniature drums, milk, water from the sea (he has a strong connection with the sea), Decorative beads, party beads, flashy jewelry, Wine glasses, Shot glasses, Corkscrews, Sparkling cider, Grape flavored things, Cheese, hallucinogens, Nips (small alcohol bottles), Bottle opener, Beer/soda tabs, Alcohol bottles with cool labels, Costumes, NatureFig/fig newtonsBull imagery, Donkey imagery, Bones, Antlers, Dead/preserved animals, Hiking gear, Seeds, Concert/festival tickets, Locks of hair, Shaven beard hair, Pride swag, ravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good, soup (you know , you know.)

Devotional • learn about sacred sex, shamanic journeying, responsible entheogen use, and alcohol as a sacrament, read “The Secret History” book, Make a playlist for Him, Dance and sing to your favorite songs or songs you’d think He would like, Throw a feast in His honor, Remembering to take your medication and taking care of your mental health, Support/donate to your local theatre in His name, Be a part of the theatre, Stand up for those that are marginalized, Write stories/plays for Him, Invite Him to watch plays or movies with you (especially comedies or tragedies), Throw parties or attend them, Attend festivals, Attend a wine tasting, Go on wine tours, Attend parades, Masturbate or partake in sexual acts for Him (if you’re comfortable doing so And over 18), Drink alcohol or grape juice, Smoke po, Learn about winemaking, Support local vineyards, Wear wreaths made from ivy, Wear faux leopard or tiger print, Wear the color purple, Pray to Him for things while intoxicated/high, Visit your local winery and participate in a grape-stomp, do some Homebrewing in his honor, Grow a garden in his honor, Make your own ritual tools in his honor, Collect art, do Glamourbombs in his honor, Pretend to be somebody else in his honor, go out to a club in his honor, listen to music in his honor, read in his his mythos, write things for a ritual and write a prayer for him, eat some grapes or have some grape juice or sparkling grape juice (or wine if able and of age), listen to party music, read plays, watch musicals or plays (ex- high school musical, Hamilton), listen to musical soundtracks, learn about the history of theatre, learn about viticulture and vineyards, do things that bring you pleasure, listen to party soundscapes, watch documentaries about any of his sacred animals, Trip intentionally/spiritually, Learn about substance abuse/recovery, Destigamtize drug users, Learn about harm reduction, Make home videos, Write poetry, Act, Dress up, Go to the woods, Dance/sing in the woods, Meditate in the woods, Learn wilderness safety and first aid, Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal, Go off the beaten path, Explore new areas, Pick up litter, Forage, Recycle bottles, Grow fruit, Try new fruits, Have sex (let the partner know beforehand it's in Diyonisus honor, 18+), Masturbate (18+), Have threesomes/swing (ask him before and make sure the other participants know it's in Dionysus's honor, 18+.), Finally, give into that one kink you’ve been ignoring (you know the one, 18+), Learn about consent with partners, Learn how to preserve dead animals, Learn about different life cycles (ex-plants, animals), Learn about immigration in your area, Learn about different cultures, Try foreign foods, Learn a new language, Learn about your ancestry, Help immigrants in your area, Grow your hair out, Keep a Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal, Use Sexual/creative energy to manifest, Shed your old self, Do Self-reflection/self-exploration, Identify areas where you overindulge (ex- food, substances, spending).

Symbols• Grapevine, ivy, phallus, Thyrsus, theatrical masks, Leopard Skin, Panther, Cheetah, the animal called asses, cymbals, swords, or serpents, rams, laurel, asphodel,  dolphins, tiger, lynx, panther, horns, goats, his chariot pulled by 2 leopards, masks in general. 

Siblings• Ares, Athena, Apollo, Artemis, Aphrodite, Hebe, Hermes, Heracles, Helen of Troy, Hephaestus, Perseus, Minos, the Muses, the Graces.

His friends/gets along with• Maenads and Bacchantes and Satyrs and Sileni and Pan and Priapus

Attendees• Seilenos (God of Drunkenness), Pan (God of Shepherds & Pastures) the Satyroi and Seilenoi (spirits of Fertility & the Wild) The Bakkhantes and Mainades (Nymphe and Women revellers) Komos Satyriskos (cup-bearer)

Appearance in astral or gen• Dionysus often took on a bestial shape and was associated with various animals, often wearing an Ivy wreath, the thyrsus, and the kantharos (a large two-handled goblet) In early Greek art he has represented as a mature male, bearded and robed holding a fennel staff tipped with a pine-cone, but later on he was portrayed as youthful sensuous, naked or semi-naked androgynous youth and effeminate with brown hair and pale features, often holding grapes and drinking wine.

Parentage•  Zeus and Semele, some sources also say Zeus and Demeter, some say Zeus and Persephone, but he always sends up with Persephone as a foster mother or as a biological mother, but before his reincarnation, his parents were Ammon and Amalthea.

Pet• leopards

Children • Priapus, Hymen, Thaos, Staphylus, Ononpion, Cumus, Phthonus, the Graces and Deianira, Seilenos, Pan, Satyroi & Seilenoi, Bakkhantes & Mainades, Komodo’s

season and festivles• Diyonosus festivals were bacchanalia, Dionysia, Anthesteria, Dionysian, Lenaia, Panathenaia,  his season was spring and March and April

Day• 11th to the 13th of the month of Anthesterion, around the time of the January or February full moon.

Sacred places• Boitia in Greece, naxos Greek, island Edina in western Thrake, his holiest shrine was Mt kithairon (Nysa) in Boiotia Greece, he also declared war on India. A sacred place is the theatre.

Status• Greek god in the major theoi, and an agriculture Demi God. 

Pet peeves• Uderestemating him, he probably won't like it if you ignore him

Music• Disco, show tunes, psychedelic rock, acid folk, Greek folk music, EDM, classical, new wave, art pop, vaporwave, just anything you can dance and sing to.

Tarot• Temperance, fool card, three of cups, the tower, 9 of cups (based off of how people see him through their tarot cards) 

Scents/Inscene • Pine incense,  frankensince, patchouli and vanilla, nutmeg, mulled wine, storax, and Benzoin.

Prayers•

Regular prayer

Dionysos, god whose arrival is swift and certain, enduring friend of women and men whose welcome is warm, bringer of light, we see you in shadows. Dionysos, granter of great blessings, your presence is a heady wine. Kind-hearted god, to each you give as is fitting, each vessel you fill only as we can bear, and yet with even a sip, we are drunk upon you, and our faith is affirmed. Awesome god, by our own will we drink deeply, with you we become lost, we wander, we are found.

Litany to Dionysos

Dionysos of the vine, rich-tressed god of wine, potent and lusty, unmixed, undiluted, with full force you come to us, vital and robust, rich and strong and surprisingly sweet. Dionysos, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Ivy-bearing Dionysos, god of the green, of the power of root on stone, the force of life that will make its own way in spite of all who labor to hold it back, no will or work can bind your might. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos of the deep earth, of the dark world, of the unknown expanse beneath the black soil, beneath solid stone, of mysteries you know much, of death and of what lies beyond. God of secrets, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos the inspiring, granter of words of prose or poesy, words heard best by the drunken and the mad, words forgotten with the passing of night and delight. Bacchus, granter of rare transport, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Dionysos Soter, holder of the hearts of men, you free us from the cares of the world, each brilliant frenzied moment a shining jewel, each glimpse of the sacred more precious than gold. I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings. Kindly Dionysos, granter of good to men and women, giver of gifts to all who seek your blessing. Gracious Dionysos, accepter of offerings great and small, friend of mankind, I praise and honor you, I thank you for your blessings.

Regular Prayer to Dionysos

Dionysos, deep-hearted one who knows the souls of men and women, whose hand is ever open, ever within reach. Dionysos, god who runs in the dark, who sees with eyes shut tight, who dances to the heart’s strong beat, ever are you yourself, ever constant, ever changing god of those who are trapped, those who seek your truth and their own, those who seek vision beyond seeing, those who seek wisdom beyond knowledge, those who seek the self, pure and sweet, those who seek clarity beyond definition, who seek to embrace the uncertain, to hold, but loosely, to what is true beyond trust.

Regular prayer to Dionysos

I praise Dionysos, lord of the vine, lord of the far reaches of the mind; in the thick of the woods, along darkened paths, in the shadows of dusk and of dawn, you roam the world, the satyrs and the pretty nymphs dancing in your wake. Son of Zeus and fair-haired Semele, bold-hearted Semele, who dared to look into the face of glory, beautiful Semele who you carried into life again, Semele reborn who men called Thyone; beloved of clever Ariadne, quick-witted one, so dear to your heart, your bright-eyed bride and consort; Dionysos, friend of women, friend of the blissful, wild-eyed maenads, pilgrims and pioneers, those who seek, your cheer and inspiration, those who seek your release, from sorrow and despair, those who are lost in joy, and those who have found themselves in you. Dionysos, god of the darkest dark and the deepest deep, boundless one, endless one, fathomless one, in you we see the edges of ourselves, in you, we find our life’s journey, in you we find our home.

To Dionysos

I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine, son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele, loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne. From the east you came, old before the ancients, throughout the elder world were you beloved; in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated, in temples and in the savage wilderness, the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake. The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink; the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift. O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy, where we know the truth of passion, where we find the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!

| Sources & websites in comments. |

I use resources, I do not own the info, and most deep dives have UPG (that I use in my work.) And I only take some information from sources. I am 14, this is my hobby, I am learning but I spent many hours and days on this, and I am always open to criticism. I have been doing worship for 5 years. Please know you can use the info, I do not sue, but I will take action if this work is used without permission and not put as a resource if used in any work. without permisson and not put as a resource if used in any work, for the public.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

18+ mdni

warnings: shotgunning. slight thigh grinding. no spoilers wc: 649

“Where’re you runnin’ off to?” Lucien asks, stopping you in your tracks.

You spin on your heel on the edge of the dimly lit patio, your summer dress twirling in the warm night breeze as you face the dark-haired beau. He tips his head back, keeping his burning eyes on you as he blows a trail of smoke into the midnight sky.

The tendons in his throat glide under his dewy, golden skin. Your cunt clenches at the thought of getting your mouth on him, tasting him.

An alarming darkness washes over his face as he presses the cigarette between his lips. His feral eyes zero in on your frozen state as he stalks toward you like a panther in the jungle—calm and relaxed, ready to sink its claws into unsuspecting prey.

Before you have a second to think, Lucien winds a thick arm around your waist and tugs you against him. He’s big, warm, and so fucking broad. The cigarette hangs limply from the corner of his mouth as curls of sandy hair fall across his forehead as he backs you up and into the large brick wall surrounding the patio. Your hands instinctively rest on his chest; the satin button-up is butter-soft, and you can’t help but dig your fingers into the firm muscles hidden beneath.

He smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes as he lifted his free hand and cupped your jaw. Those wicked irises tempt you deeper into the murky darkness. You can’t tell which way is up, tumbling in the black as he presses a solid thumb between your lips.

Your eyes bug at the intrusion. A heavy wave of arousal crashes into your belly, making you wantonly moan around his digit. He tastes like a mix of ash and cabernet as he grinds his half-hard cock into your belly. Your eyes flutter like you’re staring at an eclipse as your lips close around his thumb without thinking.

“Keep that pretty mouth open for me.” Lucien softly commands with a thick, sultry voice that drips down your spine like molasses. He presses on your tongue, tugging your jaw open. “Thatta girl.”

His cheeks hollow as he takes a deep breath. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a beat. Dark eyes wash over you as you innocently wait for his next command. He holds your stare before pulling the cig from his mouth and leaning in. His plush lips barely graze your own as he exhales, releasing the smoke into your mouth. His thumb rubs along the edge of your lips, encouraging you to inhale his offering as he presses you into the rough wall.

You breathe in, letting the ashy smoke burn your insides. His lips pull into a smirk, and he hums. Your eyes water from the fumes, and you sputter, coughing out the remaining smoke.

Those sinful eyes travel the expanse of your face before moving south, down your neck to your exposed clavicle, and between the valley of your breasts. He takes his time like he’s considering his next move as your chest anxiously rises and falls under his calculating gaze.

He chuckles under his breath and lifts the cigarette to his lips once more. “Looks like we’ll have to work on that.” The cigarette bounces as he speaks, the tip burning red hot like the arousal dripping from your cunt.

He crowds you, pushing you further into the wall, and slots a burly thigh between your legs, forcefully grinding your throbbing core. A pitiful whine tumbles from your lips, and he cups a heavy hand along your jawbone and presses a deft thumb on your chin, keeping you locked in place.

“Don't worry now," He muses, shifting his thigh back and forth, pulling a wreaked gasp from your throat. "The smoke won't be the only thing you'll gag on tonight."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

be sure to follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[accio-victuuri]

all the cpn for wyb’s 27th birthday part two 🎉💕

oh hello there. we are now on part ii of this clowning session and i’m gonna just put this here because i think it speaks for itself. p1 is xz’s bday post from last year and p2 is bobo’s for this year. see the similarities? the composition of the shot, their silhouette and it’s like you can’t see anything for miles. they really have the same braincell. twin flames. i’m sure wyb must have much cooler shots of himself with all the places he’s been and what he’s done. why not him car racing? or photos from his time abroad? playing tennis? why this?

and that emoji he used, it’s like yeah i’m cool and also joking with xz. look, my photo looks like yours from last year gege 😎

we don’t even have to try and reach that much, it’s literally in our face. it’s so szd!

now let’s look at the other much less obvious clues

the yibo-official short video. i was honestly expecting a photoset from them at 10 or 10:30 but i was wrong lol. i’m surprised they posted at 11:55, cause we are sensitive with 55. i have to say that it’s so cuteeee and i like the details that were magnified. also the probability of yibo spending his special day camping and enjoying himself is giving me so much joy! ^^

but who do we know also spent their bday last year camping? with his literal cake in a camping theme?

i mean.. come on! why is it always them? 😂😂😂 there just too many coincidences. it has always been their thing but coming up as themes for this bday is next level.

what seems to be a snowy mountain at the back? 👀

let’s add some more observations.

the panther who seems to be singing and on a swing which is a nice addition! hahahahahaha! the panther is supposed to be cool but singing makes it more real. the cake with green and red and the body looks to be yellow? what a nice combination! the helmet inside the tent! that reminds us of when xz gifted wyb a helmet. and the photo of wei ruolai! it’s a common cpn that xz really likes the character of lai lai <3

EDIT: there are also 27 fallen leaves! 🍃 kinda like the 29 light bulbs in GG’s bday art before. this level of detail is something else!

lastly, i will talk about this tag. right now as of writing, it’s #3 on entertainment HS. which is really high considering we are competing with hundred flowers award and olympics tags.

i don’t think this is the time to get technical on what age is who blah blah blah blah. it’s already there. i can see a certain group of people foaming at the mouth because of this, but if they are so angry, then maybe they can work harder in posting for the other bday tag. anyway, i see this one as a really sweet tag. it’s been years and both of them have come a long way. the same also applies to the the fandom. 💛

yibo will grow up slowly and appreciate his life, xz will always be there beside him 🌸

P.S: PART ONE IS HERE IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT YET ✨✌🏼

[animusrox]

LETTERBOXD

1.   The Batman 2.   Everything Everywhere All at Once 3.   Prey 4.   Triangle of Sadness 5.   Barbarian 6.  The Northman 7.   Bodies Bodies Bodies 8.   The Banshees of Inisherin 9.   Bones and All 10.   Avatar: The Way of Water

Grade A

11.   Turning Red 12.   The Menu 13.   Babylon 14.   Hit the Road 15.   Cow 16.   Watcher 17.   Funny Pages 18.   Mad God 19.   On the Count of Three 20.   Armageddon Time 21.   Terrifier 2 22.   Marcel the Shell with Shoes On 23.   Smile 24.   Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery 25.   Holy Spider 26.   Aftersun 27.   The Fabelmans 28.   Breaking 29.   Decision to Leave 30.   The Whale 31.   All Quiet on the Western Front 32.   Brian and Charles 33.   Piggy 34.   Saint Omer 35.   Thirteen Lives 36.   Men 37.   The Fallout 38.   Resurrection 39.   Causeway 40.  The Black Phone 41.   Official Competition 42.   Nope 43.  Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio 44.   Apollo 10½: A Space Age Childhood 45.   Till 46.   TÁR 47.   Happening 48.   A Love Song 49.   The Outfit 50.   The Innocents 51.   Jackass Forever 52.   BARDO, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths 53.   Montana Story 54.   Three Thousand Years of Longing 55.   You Won’t Be Alone 56.   The Sadness 57.   Halloween Ends 58.   Pearl 59.   X 60.   Vesper

Click "Keep Reading” For My Full List

Grade B

61.   This Place Rules 62.   Fresh 63.   Windfall 64.   Kimi 65.   No Exit 66.   Top Gun: Maverick 67.   “Sr.” 68.   Farha 69.   The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent 70.   Weird: The Al Yankovic Story 71.   Nitram 72.   Speak No Evil 73.   Run Sweetheart Run 74.   She Said 75.   White Noise 76.   Puss in Boots: The Last Wish 77.   V/H/S/99 78.   The Wonder 79.   Women Talking 80.   Hatching 81.   Soft & Quiet 82.   Scream 83.   To Leslie 84.   Hustle 85.   Chip ’n Dale: Rescue Rangers 86.   Dual 87.   God’s Country 88.   Emancipation 89.   Vengeance 90.   Fire of Love 91.   Bullet Train 92.   Incantation 93.   The Valet 94.   Hellraiser 95.   Christmas Bloody Christmas 96.   Significant Other 97.   Cha Cha Real Smooth 98.   Lucy and Desi 99.   Not Okay 100.   A Christmas Story Christmas 101.   Blonde 102.   Deadstream 103.   Sissy

Grade C

104.   The Bad Guys 105.   The Cursed 106.   Empire of Light 107.   A Man Called Otto 108.   Broker 109.   Black Panther: Wakanda Forever 110.   The Princess 111.   Beast 112.   After Yang 113.   RRR 114.   Fall 115.   Jackass 4.5 116.   Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe 117.   Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness 118.   Jennifer Lopez: Halftime 119.   Lightyear 120.   The Pale Blue Eye 121.   The Woman King 122.   Violent Night 123.   God’s Creatures 124.   Ambulance 125.   Elvis 126.   You Are Not My Mother 127.   Emily the Criminal 128.   Crimes of the Future 129.   The Apology 130.   The Lost City 131.   Wendell & Wild 132.   Trainwreck: Woodstock ’99 133.   The Found Footage Phenomenon 134.   See How They Run 135.   Spiderhead 136.   Studio 666 137.   Bros 138.   Spin Me Round 139.   We’re All Going to the World’s Fair 140.   Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank 141.   Honor Society

Grade D

142.   Thor: Love and Thunder 143.   Summering 144.   Strange World 145.   Glorious 146.   The Gray Man 147.   Devotion 148.   Clerks III 149.   The Forgiven 150.   Enola Holmes 2 151.   Father Stu 152.   Jurassic World Dominion 153.   DC League of Super-Pets 154.   She Will 155.   The Bob’s Burgers Movie 156.   Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody 157.   Hellbender 158.   Samaritan 159.   Day Shift 160.   Sonic the Hedgehog 2 161.   Prey for the Devil 162.   Troll 163.   Uncharted 164.  Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile 165.   Dashcam 166.   Firestarter 167.   Do Revenge 168.   Catwoman: Hunted 169.   The Munsters 170.   Amsterdam 171.   Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

Grade F

172.   Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris 173.   The Bubble 174.   Dead for a Dollar 175.   Jerry & Marge Go Large 176.   Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. 177.   Infinite Storm 178.   Marry Me 179.   Don’t Worry Darling 180.   Spirited 181.   Disney's Pinocchio 182.   Alice 183.   Black Adam 184.   Orphan: First Kill 185.   The Adam Project 186.   The Invitation 187.   Texas Chainsaw Massacre 188.   Ticket to Paradise 189.   The 355 190.   Umma

Bottom 10

191.   Green Lantern: Beware My Power 192.   Deep Water 193.   Where the Crawdads Sing 194.   Blacklight 195.   Mack & Rita 196.   Memory 197.   Me Time 198.   Death on the Nile 199.   Morbius 200.   Moonfall

[kaccvcate]

I highly recommend the movie Kneecap (2024) about the Irish hiphop group of the same name. This band writes their songs in Gaelic, and the movie focuses on the struggles they face trying to express themselves in their native language, which was outlawed by colonizers until recently. The soundtrack is phenomenal, it has a great sense of humor, and it has one of the most badass lines in any movie, "Every word of Irish spoken is a bullet fired for Irish freedom." A philosophy to live by...

[bluegiragi]

hello! i'm gira, i go by she/her, and i've been making fanart for the cod fandom for about four months now :) the majority of that time's been spent on the soapbox saga, which is sort of just what i call the very plot-ridden porn comic featuring ghost, soap and konig. and recently i've been working on the monster 141 au!

i'm here to address the reasoning behind how i assigned certain monsters to certain characters, particularly the POC characters as well as accusations of racism regarding me neglecting gaz in all my art :) whoever you are, if you're reading this in good faith, i thank you! i earnestly never intended to make anyone feel uncomfortable from my work.

The Monster AU

i won't post the blog who brought this issue up mainly because, (realistically speaking) i think people might go after them and spam them with hate so I'm paraphrasing here. but basically..."how come all the POC in the Monster AU are assigned animal-associated monsters? Comparisons to animals can be incredibly demeaning when it comes to minorities".

I completely agree! But earnestly, I think my desire to assign every character a 'monster' that was relevant to their culture overshadowed the part of my brain that would've raised red flags about this sort of thing. There's the argument here that I could've assigned these characters cooler monsters such as Price who is a dragon, and Ghost who is a wraith, but I wanted to be respectful of all the minorities in the COD cast by giving them creatures that reflected their culture and personality.

ALEJANDRO - NAGUAL

In the Monster AU, Alejandro is a nagual, which is considered a guardian spirit in Mesoamerican culture. Typically, it's said that the nagual is the shapeshifted form that powerful men can transform into in order to do evil (although that doesn't apply in this case, Ale's a heroic lad), and can come in the forms of a jaguar, deer, dog or bird. I chose a jaguar, since it seemed to be the most common form of nagual depiction in the resources I was looking at. The 'panther mode' isn't pre-established as part of nagual mythology, but since most panthers are just black jaguars, i thought the association wouldn't be unreasonable.

I chose Alejandro to be a nagual because it's so in character for him to be protective of his home. The idea of him being a literal guardian spirit for all he considers his just made sense to me :)

--

RODOLFO (RUDY) - CADEJOS

In this AU, Rudy is the vessel for two cadejos, which are legendary dog spirits popular in the mythology of Central America, parts of South America and Mexico. Historically, they've been known as psychopomps (guides to help humans into the afterlife following their death) but modern interpretation has shifted to depict them as the good guardian dog and the evil attacking dog respectively.

A lot of the minute information about the cadejos tends to differ depending on the source. Like whether they're actually two separate dogs, or they're the same dog just in different 'modes', or how big they are. My personal depiction of them has them sized as normal dogs (although their spirit nature means they can move into small spaces pretty easily by just becoming immaterial temporarily) and as separate spirits that have been passed down through Rudy's family generationally.

I chose the cadejo for Rudy because although I wanted to include him in the Monster AU, i still liked keeping him as a character who was a bit more 'human' than Alejandro. I think Ale needs Rudy to hold him back sometimes, and having the two cadejo definitely helps with that. Sort of like how cheetahs in zoos have therapy dogs growing up because they're so anxious all the time! I think it also does a good job of showing Rudy's two sides as well, like he's a softie who just wants to protect those he loves, but he's capable of a lot of violence too.

--

VALERIA - GORGON

Valeria is a gorgon which, admittedly, is not part of Mexican mythology. However, I was put in a bit of a bind here, since my research didn't really reveal to me a monster in Mexican culture that I thought would suit Valeria's vibe (manipulative, elulsive) and I just felt like a gorgon would be perfect for her. Medusa's myth has her being continuously demeaned by the men in her life and is a symbol of female empowerment, which I thought was a great reflection of the implied reason that Valeria left the army was due to internal sexism. There's also the perfect parallel of how anyone who sees El Sin Nombre's face dies, and Medusa's whole 'turn you to stone' thing.

I thought i could compromise by making Valeria a gorgon but her hair would be Mexican black kingsnakes but...turns out they're actually not that dangerous. Some people even keep them as pets! So I decided to keep the visual, but make her a pit viper, a subfamily of vipers found in the Americas as well as Eurasia.

--

HORANGI - HAETAE

Horangi is a haetae (해태) which is a beast in Korean mythology that typically comes in the form of a horned lion or dog. It's prevalent in a lot of cultures in East Asia actually, although it goes under different names depending on the region - kaichi for Japan, xiezhi for China. I made Horangi a tiger variant on the creature because...well...'horangi' means 'tiger' in korean. It just made sense to me to put that little twist on it.

Typically, haetae are seen as spirits of judgement, that decide on innocent and guilty parties in disputes and punish the latter. It's also considered a guardian against fire (hence the fire immunity and cloud manipulation powers I gave him).

GAZ - HARPY

Gaz is a harpy which, I won't lie, was purely inspired by the fact that he seems to keep falling out of helicopters. But it's also because...yeah, I did neglect Gaz in the soapbox saga. But I think I neglected...everyone in the soapbox saga who weren't directly involved in the main ship. I sort of just tunnel visioned on the main three, so my exclusion of characters isn't just limited to Gaz, it was included Price, Laswell, Alejandro, Rudy, Graves etc.

I just want to make clear that my treatment of Gaz in particular isn't reflective of any inner preference against him. And to make good on that, me assigning Gaz wings of all things was to help me spend more time on him in the Monster AU! I think the contrast between Gaz being an upstart harpy, and Price being a one-winged dragon has a lot of potential as a mentor/protege relationship (and perhaps even something more) and it's why I assigned this monster to him. I really wanted to establish a connection upfront, but just making Gaz another dragon felt cheap - the harpy thing felt a little more in turn with his character :)

--

I really hope this cleared up any remaining frustrations with my designs for the Monster AU. I hope you can see that I never meant anything demeaning by assigning these monsters to their respective characters - in fact, I earnestly tried to go out of my way and be respectful to their backgrounds.

In any case, if you have any more questions I'd be happy to answer them - I'd just ask you to please ask politely :)

[lurkinginnernarrator]

MDZS au where WWX isn't rescued by the jiangs and he basically becomes a Mafia boss. Or whatever the equivalent for ancient Xianxia China Mafia boss is

Just, imagine it: An elegant man robed in white ducks into a low den, tucked away in the labyrinthine city alleys.

A fair yet strong hand pushes aside gauzy carmine arrases, yet his keen vision remains partially veiled. Lazy clouds of smoke intermingle with the rich fabrics that cocoon the low-slung chambers.

Men and women alike crowd the ornate hall, a variety of characters all in different stages of repose. The rich tones of liquor, incense and secondhand smoke perfume the room. From respectable scholars to disreputes of society, unowned and owned women, thieves and merchants, criminals.

The low humming of a multitude creates a melodious baseline of noise.

A thin yet surprisingly forceful hand clamps down on Lan Wangji's shoulder. Lacquered nails dig through the fabric and into his muscles. A feminine voice cuts through the polyrhythmic thrum of voices, drawling.

"And what, is a man like you doing here?"

Woman and cultivator meet eyes. She's small, yet her build is strong. Wrapped in vermillion brocade, cold eyes and a strong brow. Hair bound tightly, ornamented with glinting hairpins. There are blades hung on her belt. Lan Wangji bows his head respectfully, baritone joining the chorus of voices around.

"I would like to meet him."

Her gaze is sharper than a serrated edge. She steps deeper into the room, eyes flicking about the occupants and back to Lan Wangji. Back turned, he can only see the profile of her face as she considers the audacity of his request.

"And why should I, Bái-daozhang?"

白 Bái: Artic, Snowy, White, Bright.

Steadily, he replies.

"I would speak to him."

She snorts, swinging her head in his direction.

"I'm afraid a reason like that won't suffice. And quite simply, Bái-daozhang, you remain here on my sufferance.

State your goal."

Four women bleed out from the crowd, penning him in.

Right as Lan Wangji was about to speak, a strong and merry voice calls out from the depths of the chamber.

"Li-jiejie! What have you caught there? Bring it here."

She glares at Lan Wangji but motions him forward, deeper into the den. Two red clad women flank him, escorting him to the source of that mellifluous voice. His eyes search for the other two, but it seems they bled back into the hubbub.

He's hustled through curtains and past partitions, the crowd thinning out the further he's taken. More and more red robed persons flit past his vision.

Two guards stand by a veiled doorway, stances relaxed yet emitting a dangerous aura. They merely observe as Lan Wangji is ushered through the heavy embroidery and silks.

Low tables lurk at the edges of the room, from the rafters hang black tapestries, the smell of wood and candle wax welcomes him in. A draft carries the signature of wine to him.

Littered around the room are people, some caught in amicable conversation, others observing the proceedings.

His generals, perhaps.

At the head of the room is a man. The man. He sprawls on a mahogany throne, cushions and pillows artistically strewn about him, lending his position overabundant gravitas.

An irreverent hand swirls a jar of wine. Leather braces peek out from beneath long black sleeves that fan about his sides. His robes cling to his chest and torso, displaying the man's lithe and powerful body.

Not dissimilar easygoing musculature of a panther. He moved like a river at night.

Black and grey skirts played about his ankles, the polished leather of his boots catching the diffused light.

His waist was trim and firm, wrapped in crimson textile, the red of his waist meeting the black of his chest in pleasing contrast. Lan Wangji's eyes travelled up. Tanned skin parted his collars, revealing a structured collar-bone and sinewy neck. Long hair framed his bust, locks burning copper in the light.

Outdoors from a young age would explain the bronze appearance and sunbaked hair.

Grey eyes caught his.

Ornamented by a winsome face and charming smile, those intelligent eyes took note of Lan Wangji's every detail.

"What have we here?"

The woman, Miss Li he supposes, gave the lissome man a respectful bow.

"Bái-daozhang here claims a desire to speak with you."

The beautiful face turns inquisitive.

"Bái-gege, what can this lowly man do for you?"

"Lan."

Lan Wangji is inwardly surprised at his sudden reply.

Eyebrows raise and the handsome man's eyes twinkle in delight

"Lan-gege, then."

Lan Wangji watches as wine-stained lips wrap around the syllables.

The flippant hand loosely brings the jar to his lips, chin tilted up, exposing the lewd column of his throat as it bobbed.

"What brings a respectable cultivator like Lan-gege to this Wuxian's hospitality?"

No one has ever spoken his name the way he did. Playful, warm and teasing. Flirtatious.

Lan Wangji would like to hear him speak it again.

Wei Wuxian leans forward as Lan Wangji explains.

Their gazes never waver from the other. It was as if they were the only two in the room.

[lis-likes-fics]

Property of Blue

Pairing: Blue Jones x Reader Word Count: 15.5k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, light degradation, light praise, a lot of throat grabbing, daddy kink and daddy issues, oral (m!receiving), dacryphilia, intense dry humping sesh, a lot of making out, a sprinkle of voyeurism, a shit ton of smoking, creampies, rough sex, Blue deserves his own warning tbh... A/N: This is the rewrite of Property of Blue from like...two years ago. I should be working on other things but like...who even does that anymore. For reference, the first one was 9.7k words. The Panther is absolutely imagined as Pedro Pascal because how could he not be? Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you! P.S: No beta, we die like men.

Your sneakers squeak against the dark linoleum floor, and the sound reverberates along the expensive walls enclosing you in what you assume to be your future prison. These men surrounding you—two of them dull bodyguards in suits and one, your father—practically push you along as you lazily resist at every turn. Though you want to scan the area surrounding you, you keep your eyes on the path ahead, but it looks like you’re in a fucking pleasure house.

It’s got the whole shabang—dim golden lights, long winding halls, a dark tabled hall, and a huge stage lined with a dark red curtain. What kind of bullshit was this?

You’re torn from your thoughts when you meet an abrupt stop. You actually bump into the guy in front of you, who acts like he hadn’t even felt you. You don’t know if he’s doing it to be kind or condescending, but you scowl either way. He steps out of the way, and your eyes fall once again upon the large stage.

There are people going through a run, their clothes rather entirely unfitting for the act they're rehearsing. They’re dressed so casual, but there are men grinding on the floor and women standing over them feeling themselves up. You swear you see one of them wink at you. If you weren’t so pissed, you’d wink back.

“Mr. Pleasant.”

You focus again, turning your attention to a man walking your way. He’s dressed for the best, his tailored suit the picture of perfect. He’s got slicked back hair, a golden chain hidden under a deep blue tie, a pencil stache on his lip, he’s wearing dark eyeshadow. He looks like a fucking pimp.

He doesn’t look at the man in front of you, he doesn’t look at anyone around you. His eyes fall directly upon you. They’re dark, they’re cold. You suppress the shudder attempting to work its way up from the base of your spine. He watches you like he’s imagining every little curve and every little mark you’ve got hidden beneath your clothes. You try not to squirm.

When his eyes finish sweeping over you, he sweeps again. He takes in the sight of your biker boots, your dangling chains, your messy hair. He hums lightly to himself, stepping even closer until he’s hardly inches away from you. You’re forced to look up, swallowing the lump in your throat at whatever it is swarming inside of you. Your restless limbs ache to fidget, but you force them not to move.

He raises a hand, and you flinch away from it with a scowl. His lip twitches, ignoring it and brushing his knuckles along your cheek. You can’t stifle this shiver. It makes your whole body shake. He runs his fingers through your hair, an appreciative sigh passing through his nose. You take in the scent of his cologne with every breath and feel like your brain chemistry is being altered with each inhale.

When you can’t take the scrutiny so close anymore, you take a step away from him. It’s a small step because of the guard standing so closely behind you. You’re only glad he doesn’t shove you forward again. This man—Mr. Peasant, was it?—preens under the amusement of your distaste. He finally turns away.

“What have you brought me today?” His eyes sneak back to you only moments after asking.

The man introduces your father to speak, and he stands a little straighter. He seems quite proud of himself as he adjusts the old tie he’s wearing. “Mr. Pleasant, hello. We spoke on the phone.” He doesn’t respond. It gets awkward for a moment until your father begins to recap the reason he had brought you to him. Mr. Pleasant’s eyes keep watching you as he does, paying him little mind.

Your jaw clenches with every stupid word that falls from his disgusting mouth. Your skin seethes with the urge to hit him, to spit in his face, to do something. This man, your “father”, was selling you. Isn’t this illegal? This is supposed to be illegal.

Although selling you was a bit extreme in your opinion, you cannot say that you find this outcome entirely outrageous. You are, through your hardworking efforts, a difficult daughter. A difficult person in general. It isn’t unprompted, of course, your father has dealt his hand in your efforts. You can’t blame him for this abandonment. You made his life a living hell, in exchange for him making yours so.

If he had been kind…

But now he would be rid of you, for good. You would never see him, and he would never see you ever again. Perhaps you should be thanking him for this. But that would be too much credit, so you won’t.

Even with this deep hatred, it’s hard to focus on his traitorous words when Mr. Pleasant’s gaze remains constantly glued to you. It’s hard to stare back at him when he so rarely looks away from you. It feels like an obligation to hold his contact, as it is so cold and dark. It holds a possession and predation that ignites your urge to disobey, anything to avoid being thought of as a scared little girl. You couldn’t be weak.

Long after your father has shut his mouth, he stares without a word. When he speaks again, he does it with a long breath that is followed by another long silence. “I’m sure we can find a place for you here.” He takes a small step toward you. His voice is low, not to be mistaken for passive. He is well aware of his power and control. You’re well aware of it, too. “Lennox is the perfect place for…wayward girls just like you.”

He breathes in, and you hear the slightest waver that you know isn’t some kind of infirmity. Whatever is on his mind can’t be good for you.

You pool a lot of attention on keeping your feet firmly planted on the floor. You have to be strong, you are already vulnerable by the hands of your father. His eyes pick you apart, breaking you down to see what you’re made of, to see what would make you bend…what would make you break. He wants to know what he’s going to do to you.

After far too long, he steps away from you and turns his attention to the man at your side once more. He moves his hands to his pockets. “Have Sweet Pea show her around. I’ve got work to do.”

Just like that, you seem to be out of sight, out of mind. He begins to turn on his heel.

“I expect you’ll behave now,” the sorry excuse for a father says, smirking down at you like he’s won. “Here, you can’t afford to be the little brat th–!”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve raked your nails into the flesh of his face. He shouts, garnering the attention of nearly everyone within the vicinity, as he brings his hand to touch the angry red marks that have begun to bloom upon his skin. When he pulls his fingers away with a hiss, he sees the blood you’ve brought on. He glares at you with eyes full of rage.

You spit at his shoes, your voice low with your malice. “Fuck. You.”

Shock is ice cold along every inch of your body when your jaw is gripped by the hand of Mr. Pleasant. That frost is replaced by a consuming heat when his dull nails dig into your own flesh and he jerks you away from your father. You can feel his breath against your face, and your cheeks burn with his tight grasp. You’re only inches apart, your lips puckered by his hold as your charged breaths mingle between you. It really hurts, you have to bite back your squeal.

He seems amused, a smirk and a sneer mixing across his lips as his hold has you shaking. He laughs, shaking his head as he drinks in the sight of you. This is the first time he’s seeing your fear clear among your face, and he’s loving it.

“Look at that,” he breathes. He looks past you to lay his eyes on the men watching the two of you. He can hardly contain his amusement, not when you react so well to his obvious threat. “My new pet has claws,” he hums, watching you once more.

The pressure of his hand clasping your face is only growing under his excitement, and you swear you’re beginning to taste the phantom taste of blood on your tongue. You can’t tell if it’s better or worse when his nails drag back along your cheeks to graze over your skin until he reaches your throat. His fingers press into the sides of your neck, and your head feels warm. Your breath sounds so strained as you gasp against his hold.

He mulls over something in his mind, nodding down at you as he does. Something goes off in his eyes, some kind of spark. You shudder.

“Yeah… That’s what I’ll call you.” He grins. “My new…little…Kitten.”

You huff at the mere idea of it, of being called on left and right with the name “Kitten” plastered to your forehead, wrapped around your throat like a collar as you answer his every beck and call. You turn your face away from him, attempting to resist him, only to be met with his correction.

His other hand raises up as his palm clasps over your mouth, his thumb brushing your ear as he turns your face to look at him once more. He leaves no room for debate, he ensures that you have no choice but to obey him.

“No, no, no,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Look at me, Kitten.” You mumble against his hand, protesting him but finding your protests to be weak. Not longer after your defiance, you find yourself submitting—for the moment—to the man whose hand is clasped around your throat. He currently had your life in his hands, and you are already beginning to understand how much that meant to him. He could hurt you at any moment. It wouldn’t take much…

He smiles at your compliance, a dangerous edge to his voice as he speaks. “Now,” he begins, “you’re gonna find that we do things a little differently here. Nothing you do is without my say-so. You do not eat, you do not sleep, you don’t even use the fucking bathroom unless I tell you you’re allowed.”

By the time he’s reached the end of his sentence, his voice devolved into a low, rough growl. He keeps you close, your bodies nearly touching, if it weren’t for his hands on your face.

“We do things my way, and I don’t like it when I don't get my way.” His eyes glint with something dark, something truly sinister.

After a moment, he takes a deep breath and sighs nice and slowly. His hand eases from your throat, shifting to cradle the side of your neck as his palm on your mouth moves to the other side. He holds you, his hands suddenly so soft but just as threatening as before. You don’t move.

He seems a little calmer now, tilting his head to look down on you. “I want us to be friends. Okay? I do… And all you have to do to make that happen is listen and do things my way.” His thumb caresses the front of your throat. “Do you understand that, Kitten?”

You don’t know what it was that possessed you to speak—Defiance? Plain stupidity, perhaps?—but it didn’t really matter. Your voice is quiet, still trembling with the adrenaline coursing your veins. “That’s not my n–”

His hands squeeze as he jerks you a bit, stunning you to silence as the smallest whimper falls out of you. His thumbs shift to cover the front of your throat. You fall in line immediately.

“See, I’m sorry. Really, I am,” he mutters. “But that didn’t sound like a ‘Yes, sir,’ to me, and ‘Yes, sir,’ is part of my way.” He turns to his guards, his brows furrowed. “Did that sound like a ‘Yes, sir,’ to either of you?”

They both shake their heads quickly. “No, sir,” they stagger.

He turns back to you. “No, sir,” he repeats. “So I’m going to ask you one more time, just so we’re absolutely clear.”

He leans in close enough that you think he’s going to kiss you. You hold your breath, your eyes wide and your limbs charged with fear.

“Do you understand, Kitten?” You’re so stunned, you forget to speak. This does not please him. His voice is a growl. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He lets go of you immediately, his hands falling back to his side as he smiles. He’s pleased. He inclines his head, nodding to himself. “Good girl.”

A rush is sent straight down your spine, settling in the base and curling in your belly. Your knees feel weak, and you think you forget how to breathe for a moment.

The slightest sound of a chuckle from your father turns your rousing heat to a raging one that curls your fists and furrows your brow.

But you’re not the only one irritated by this.

“What the fuck do you find funny?” he asks, turning a dark gaze to him. Your father’s gaze slowly fades from his face, turning into something a little more frightened than he anticipated. You try not to be too smug, lest you receive the same punishment, or worse.

He clears his throat, glancing down to the floor as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “Nothing.”

He stares at him for a long time, watching him until he squirms. And he does, the minute shuffles of his feet barely perceptible but not going unnoticed. Mr. Pleasant huffs finally. Wordlessly, he nods to one of his guards, who escorts your father away where you shall never lay eyes on him again. He says nothing more before he’s turning away at the sound of a woman’s voice.

“Sweet Pea, honey,” he says, casting a grin at the blonde beginning to make her way over. He wraps an arm around her waist as she comes to stand next to him. You stifle the curl in your belly, willing it away. “Come show around our newest girl.”

She nods, granting him a cordial smile. “Yes, Blue.”

“Thank you, darling,” he says, letting go of her as he takes a step away. He grins darkly at you, chuckling under his breath. “Goodbye, Kitten.”

You swallow thickly, watching him take his leave.

Sweet Pea weaves her arm through yours, pulling you away from the guards. She walks with you slowly, but there’s no fondness in her hold. She’s very pretty, you decide, even with the coldness in her eyes.

“Rule number one,” she begins, her voice stern but quiet. “Don’t be an idiot. Blue tells you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”

You coast past it. “Your name’s Sweet Pea?”

“Blue given,” she says. “And you’re Kitten.”

You hesitate, unsure of how well you’re taking to this new nickname. “Blue given,” you mutter. “My real na–”

“I don’t care what your ‘real name’ is.” Her interruption is abrupt and cold. She stops walking, watching you and ensuring you hear every word she says. “Forget it exists because one is ever going to call you by that name again. From now ‘til the day you die, your name is Kitten. Understand?”

You blink a couple times, slowly sighing as you nod. “Rule number one,” you agree.

She nods as well, satisfied with your answer.

“Good.” She turns, beginning to walk once more with you at your side. She walks a little faster. You keep up with her. “Rule number two…”

There’s something swirling in your belly that consumes your mind, this gnawing feeling that you know you’ll have to sort out later. Whatever it is, you know everything is going to be different from now on.

You feel like you’re going to fit in better than you realize.

~

Sweet Pea had been right, though you never doubted she was. From the moment you stepped into the building and until the moment you die, you are Kitten.

It wasn’t a hard role to fit.

You do what is required of you. You sing, you dance, you cook, you clean, you do as you’re told and keep your head in return. Your old life has faded away into something entirely null and void. It doesn’t exist anymore, that name and everything that came with it was gone. Considering everything… you’re okay with that.

You belong to him, this man called Blue. He is your employer, your owner. You serve him, you do it his way.

It’s sort of fun, in a twisted sense of the word, being owned by him. He treats you rather well, as long as you behave. He loves his girls, loves all that they do for him. When you’re good to him, he’s good to you. He spoils you all with gifts, clothes and jewelry and all the things a girl needs to be happy.

The girls warned you about him. Told you about all the things he’s willing to do, implied some of the things he has done. It should have kept you away, holding him at arm’s length to ensure your preservation.

But it hasn’t.

That swirling in your belly, the curling in your gut, it had taken root into something rather…unorthodox.

You wanted to please him.

You danced, and you danced well. You’d taken lessons as a child, continued to dance sparingly in later years. It came naturally. Madam Gorski was impressed by your skill, the girls were impressed, too.

But most of all, Blue was impressed. And that was your goal.

You want to be worth watching. You want his eyes to follow you wherever you go. Once intimidating, a shiver rushing down your spine, it’s now the kind of thing you dream of. You long to feel his eyes on your body, drinking you in, appreciating you for the pet you’ve become.

So you became his favorite. You thrived in this place. You work hard in the hopes that he will notice, and God, did he notice.

He notices the way you dip a little lower when he enters the dance room. He notices the way your eyes find him through the reflection in the mirror. He notices the way you stride through the halls, your posture the picture of poise, whenever he walks by. He notices every little detail.

But you don’t.

He’s dragging it out. He pretends not to care, he acts as though the sway of your hips is nothing of an allure to his obsessive mind. He doesn’t want you to know just how much he craves you. Not yet.

So when it comes time for you to finally be put on stage, you decide that tonight has to be the night he knows just how good you can be.

You’re standing in the wings, covered in glitz and glam, wrapped in lace and silk and a tight corset you’ve grown accustomed to by this point. Your white pantyhose are thin, your powder pink skirt is tiny, your hair was done to the Nines. Every inch of your body is coated in glitter, so you’ll shine like a diamond under the lights of the stage.

Your finger wraps around the leather of the collar slapped around your throat. There’s a little golden bell on it that rings whenever you move. They put fucking cat ears on you.

You’re rubbing your palms along your thighs as Madam Gorski’s voice rises above the crowd, the music of the last show fading away as she steps up, just as painted and primmed as the rest of you.

“Such a riveting performance from our girls tonight, don’t you think?” she announces, her accent rolling off of her words as the audience whistles. “For our next act, I would like to personally welcome a new girl of a new spirit.”

You straighten your spine, calming your beating heart. “Gentlemen, this lovely lady is known for her silky smooth purrs and her razor sharp claws; so if you favor your hands, you’ll have to treat her well.” You have to roll your eyes at the theatrics, especially when the men in the audience snicker at her remarks.

“Gentlemen, it is my pleasure to introduce to you,” she holds her arm out toward you, “the little Kitten.”

The lights blind you for a moment as you step onto stage, the music slowly building as you stalk toward your starting position. They had begun cheering before you had begun to dance, the choreography you’ve practiced a million times becoming as natural as breathing.

As you glance out into the audience through the glare of the spotlight, you finally find Blue. He’s staring as he always does, one hand in his pocket and a cigar in the other, looking as though he’s going to snap. You send him a wink, and you can’t mistake the smirk that crawls onto his lips.

As the others begin joining you on stage, shadowing your dance as your scene partner comes to accompany you, his eyes don’t leave yours. Anthony’s arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you close, and Blue’s jaw clenches when you’re staring into the each other’s arms, being dipped and spun and knelt across the stage like he’s going to fuck you right there.

The men drink it all up, and Blue devours it. Such an intoxicating draft you are, something he’d like to consume whole. The moment he gets his hands on you, you shall be ruined for anyone else…

After that, you truly become his top girl. If it hadn’t been for your charm, it would have been all the money you’re bringing in.

You come in high demand. Every man wants a piece of you, and some women have come in for a taste, too. As much as he hates all these people coming in, putting their hands on his pet, it’s profitable. Every time he boosts the cost, someone comes in offering more.

He has to find solace in the fact that he knows you crave him. As long as that remains, it doesn’t matter how many people touch you, you’ll always belong to him.

It isn’t long before a big-name patron comes stalking through those doors. One of the girls told you about him, had spoken so highly of this “Panther” for his undeniable charm, his dark alluring, his arousing seduction. He’s supposed to be just as dangerous as Blue, but he was too charming for anyone to care.

“He always shows up when we get new girls, especially when they’re so popular,” she’d said, excited by the idea of you bringing him in. She runs a hand through her hair, shrugging a shoulder. “I’m one of his usuals.”

You’d been wanting to meet him, to see what all the fuss was about. And if he does come in looking to scope you out… you could probably use it to your advantage. If this doesn’t work to allure Blue, at least you’ll get a good lay.

Blue has been anticipating his arrival, but had hoped against all hope that when he arrived, the Panther would seek out his usual conquests instead of Blue’s favorite girl.

When he comes in, Blue greets him with a firm handshake and a box of his most expensive cigars.

“You spoil me,” his smooth voice rolls off his tongue as he removes his glasses from his face, slipping them into the pocket of his sleek black suit. He takes one as Blue does, lighting them both up and taking a generous breath, and sighing out his smile.

The Panther runs a hand through his dark hair, turning toward his friend. “Now…” he says, “show me this little Kitten I’ve heard some muh about.”

Blue jaw aches as he opens his mouth to say you’re busy today, or you’re not working, or you’re not available. Anything to get him to forget about so he can keep you to himself. Before he can get a word out, you’re stepping on stage with a wink in your eye and a sway in your hips. You’re in baby blue tonight, your skin sparkling just as much as it had the first time.

Blue sighs, partly out of arousal from seeing you and partly out of frustration at you being seen. Turning to his friend, he strains a smile. “You just saw her.”

The Panther grins, raising a hand to his chin as he brushes it over his lightly bearded face. “Promising,” he hums, turning toward Blue. “Very promising.”

Blue nods stiffly, watching him turn to find a seat to watch you from. He sucks in a hefty amount of smoke to swirl in his lungs before going to join his “friend”.

The Panther lounges in his seat, crossing his legs as he watches you. “I’ve heard a lot of good things. Some say she’s like an angel,” he says. He looks over at Blue. “But you’re up close with her every day. What do you say?”

Blue sighs, his finger stroking his lip as he shrugs. “If she were like an angel, I would have named her Angel.” He shakes his head, his eyes falling back upon you as he drinks up. “No… this one’s just a kitten.”

The Panther hums. “Well, if this kitten is as good as they say,” he lets out an appreciative sigh, “then I will pay you handsomely for her.”

~

Both men look toward the door to the private room when it opens, Madam Gorski stepping inside to introduce you. You trail in behind her, your eyes hooded and a smirk settled gently upon your lips. Gorski closes the door behind you.

The Panther smiles at the sight of you, your charm rolling over him with a smooth seduction. You only glance at him as you make your way first to Blue. You set a hand on his shoulder, stepping between his legs as your hand smooths along his neck until you’re cupping his jaw. You give it a light scratch.

“Hello, Blue,” you purr.

His dark eyes gleam with possession and something darker. He smirks, resting a hand on your hip and squeezing. “Hey, Kitten.”

The lightest chuckle puffs from your chest before you’re turning back to lay your eyes upon the Panther once more.

The girls weren’t lying. He’s a very handsome man with sunkissed skin, eyes just as dark as Blue’s, his hair soft and tousled. He’s beautiful.

Your hand falls gently on his shoulder, the other falling suit as you stand between his legs. You shift them to cup his neck, brushing your thumbs along his chin. He sets his cigar in the ashtray.

He hums, tilting his head. “Not a shy little thing, is she?” he wonders, never looking away from you.

Blue grunts. “Not shy, at all. In fact,” a ghost of a smile shifts onto his lips, “this one scratches.”

One of your hands travels over the bump of his throat, your finger brushing his skin until your hand rests atop his exposed chest beneath his blazer. Your gaze never strays from his even once, content to watch him forever.

“Well, that’s just fine.” His hands come to your waist, pressing his thumbs into your side to rub soothing circles. He pulls you forward a bit, moving his hands to lay flat against your back. “I’m a biter myself.”

He snaps playfully at you, and you actually let out a giggle. The sound deepens his smile. “You’re such a delicious little talent, you know.”

He hums as he looks down your body, making you squeal when he turns your back to his chest, pulling you down onto his lap. His nose presses into your back, trailing along your spine as his hands caress your sides. You shudder as they gently squeeze the top of your thighs.

“Do you know what they call me, sweet Kitten?”

A slow nod tilts your head as you lean back into him. Your voice is soft, as soft as a feather as you reach a hand back to run through his hair. “The Panther.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Blue watching the two of you, his eyes on his hands, on your thighs, on your fucking fingers curling in his hair. The smoke of his cigar swirls around his head.

He hums, pressing his nose to your neck and inhaling the scent of you. He thinks you’re deletable. “A panther and a kitten are a good match, no?”

You breathe a chuckle. “I think so.”

Again, he hums his agreement. With a deep breath, he smiles, “Me, too.”

His hands stroke along the length of your body, feeling you up like he’s trying to estimate your size. He squeezes your thighs, your waist, your breasts. Breathy sighs leave your chest as you continue to lean further into him. Your hips roll absent-mindedly into his lap, making his hands tighten where they squeeze.

“Kittens are much smaller than panthers, aren’t they?” he breathes. “Small and precious…sweet little things.”

It’s your turn to hum as you slide down from his lap, sinking to your knees and turning with your hands on his thighs. He stares at you, his gaze dark as he watches you look up at him through your lashes. You can see the bump bulging at the seat of his pants.

“Maybe not as sweet as you’d think,” you murmur, leaning forward to press your mouth to his belly, just above that rise in his pants. The slightest grunt spills from his mouth.

He chuckles, reaching for his cigar as he watches you feel him up. Smoke rushes from his lips as he shrugs. “No?” He tilts his head. “What are you, then?”

He cradles his cigar between two fingers, placing it once again between his lips. As he takes a hefty breath, you move up to his mouth and breathe in the cloud of smoke he puffs out. Your hands continue to squeeze the meat of his thighs, your ass swaying slowly in the air. He chuckles deeply when the smoke releases from your mouth.

You smile, your eyes hooded as you lick your bottom lip. You bring a leg up to rest next to his own, the other following suit. As you lower yourself into his lap, he sets his free hand at your side, allowing his touch to travel wherever he pleases. You wrap one arm around his shoulders, taking the cigar from his fingers and setting it between your own.

Your gaze never strays from the other as you bring the cigar to your lips, inhaling the smoke and allowing it to swirl in your chest, clouding your mind with the haze of it and the lust tainting your skin. You lean forward, your lips ghosting over his as he opens his own mouth to meet you.

Deciding you aren’t close enough, the Panther wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you in as your lips crash down against one another. You moan into his mouth, pressing your bodies flush against the other. He’s so intoxicating that you nearly forget about the heavy gaze burning into your back.

You whimper when the Panther’s fingers tangle in your hair, pulling at the locks at the base of your skull and making you weak. His other hand grips your ass, and you’re putty in his hold.

When he pulls away from you, your breathless lips parted with your growing desire, you smile when smoke pours out of his nose. A smirk curls his lips.

Fully enamored by you, he pulls you close. “Such a prize.”

He rolls your hips when he says it, and a small whimper slips out of you as your clothed heat rubs against his own. You do it again of your own accord, seeking out the friction as you relish in it.

It turns into some sort of dance as you grind yourself down on his lap, your breath heavy as you lay your forehead in his neck. You catch sight of Blue, his eyes glaring at you. It burns your skin, spurs on your pleasure. You raise your head, tipping it back just to frustrate him further.

The Panther’s nibble on the white leather collar wrapped around your throat, chuckling to himself. “I like this. I like you,” he breathes, ghosting his lips over the circular golden tag attached to it.

KITTEN

This amuses you as you continue to move your hips upon his lap. You set his cigar down to tangle your hands in his hair, shuddering when his teeth nip the skin of your neck.

“I’m interested to see if this little kitten can handle a bigger cat like me.” His hands encourage your hips, becoming even more insistent. You shudder at his implication, looking forward to seeing if it was true. Your head drops down to his neck once more, your mouth pressing against him as your lips and teeth and tongue make quick work of tasting him. He clouds your senses, makes it hard to think straight. When his hand travels up and down the length of your spine, your mouth devolves into something less organized, just a mess of raw desire.

“Unfortunately…”

The both of you turn swiftly to Blue, partially torn from your heated bubble, which has been burst by his potential decline. There’s something so dark in his eyes, a dangerous kind that tells you you’re probably going to be in trouble after this.

“This little kitten can’t do that for you tonight.”

You sigh gently, moving back to his neck to return to your work. You tug at his hair, revealing more skin for you to lick and suck and bite. He hums at the feeling, his attention still turned towards Blue.

“And why is that?” he asks, raising a brow.

Blue’s eyes keep trailing down to you, watching the way you move, the way you serve this man who isn’t him. He breathes in a heavy breath, releasing it on a heavier sigh.

“She’s been put on a strict ‘Look, Don’t Touch,’ basis,” he drops his cigar to his lips.

You press your lips against his Adam’s apple, darting the tip of your tongue out to lick his skin. The Panther snickers as you do, clearly amused by Blue’s claim, especially when you grind your hips down into his lap again.

“You should tell her that.”

He gently tugs at your hair, guiding you back to expose your neck to him. His nose presses to the underside of your chin, breathing you in again as he kisses your neck gently. You shudder at the softness.

“I’ll pay you extra,” he tries.

Blue sighs, clenching his jaw. “I’m sorry, my friend,” he says. “No deal.”

“Double.”

His eyes almost twitches. He shakes his head. “No deal.”

The Panther’s hands fall to your waist, his thumbs smoothing circles into your sides as you allow him to touch you as he pleases. “I will pay you six times the normal amount.” Blue nearly chokes on his own saliva but remains still. “I can go higher, Blue. You know I can.”

You tear yourself away from the Panther’s neck to watch as a long silence fills the air between them. The two stare each other down, even as you pull his head to rest on your chest, the warmth of his cheek in your bosom. It’s amazing, being in between it all, to know how deeply these two men must desire you in order to have a cock fight over it.

Blue takes his cigar between his fingers, his lip nearly twitching and his hands itching to break something. He shakes his head with a heavy sigh.

“No deal.”

A deep sigh works its way through his chest. Leaning back in his seat, he shakes his head, disappointment settling in his bones at the thought of this night turning out to be a dud.

He smooths his hands along your sides, his thumbs still working gently into the dip of your waist. You cradle his head in your hands, shrugging a shoulder with a sigh of your own. It was a nice thought.

Without looking at Blue, he speaks. “I’ll pay double for a lap dance, then.” He taps your ass twice. “And I’ll take my usual, as well.”

Blue nods to himself, running a hand down his face before pulling a generous amount of smoke into his mouth. “Sure.” He stands, fixing his suit.

Blue walks over, setting a hand in the crook of your shoulder and bending down to your face. His palm rubs your skin as he mutters. “Treat our friend.”

You nod obediently, closing your eyes and smiling almost slyly when he leans in to kiss your forehead. He lingers there for a while, his kiss almost forceful against your temple as his hand tightens at your shoulder.

You’re in a lot of trouble.

He sighs loudly when he straightens his spine and begins to walk away. He stops by Madam Gorski at the door, leaning in close and keeping his voice at a murmur.

“Send her to my office when she’s done here.” He glances over his shoulder, his lip nearly twitching as he watches the way you hover over his lap still, your hips swaying in a faux grind. “Make sure he doesn’t get too handsy with her.”

She nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Blue storms out of the room, his barely controlled rage leaking out of his ears. So much time, so much money—Wasted! Down the drain in a matter of seconds because of you and your damn seduction. Your cruel, evil seduction. It all comes so easily, like some fucking siren trying to drown his entire ship.

His blood boils, his fists clench and unclench alongside his jaw. This simply would not do.

You needed to be reminded who it was you truly belonged to.

~

The long winding halls of Lennox can drive a person to madness—you should know, you’re close to it now. (Though, you’re sure there’s probably another reason why you’re so close to losing your head.)

The sound of yours and Madam Gorski’s heels clicking against the laminated floors resound off the walls, and it’s the only sound you can hear. It’s so deafeningly silent.

You’re already worked up after your lap dance (and, let’s be honest, dry humping session) with the Panther. You’re burning to your core, and the anticipation of seeing Blue pissed off by your, in his mind, insolent behavior is making it all the worse.

You haven’t felt a high like this in a while.

It’s part of the whole reason you’re here in the first place—defiance. It was the whole point of you, being the biggest nuisance and pissing some people (mostly your father) off. You’ve gone as far as gotten arrested and made him pay your bail—in return, he locked you in the basement for three days.

But you don’t think Blue’s going to lock you in a closet.

All the ideas rushing through your head about what he might do to you is making it a little harder to walk in these heels. You’ve definitely caught his attention now.

As you reach Blue’s office, Madam Gorski turns to you with a reassuring breath. She raises a hand to your cheek, pats it gently two times, and then nods as she turns away again. She knocks three times on the door before she opens it to let you pass. She leaves once you’re inside, closing the door quietly behind you.

Blue sits behind his desk looking at a file. He rests his head in his hand, his pinky nestled on his top lip while the cold of his ring pressed against his face. His second hand holds his cigar, allowing a stream of smoke to lift into the air. It looks the same as when you left, as if he’s put it out and re-lit it. He’s vaguely disheveled—his hair is slightly tousled, his tie is loosened, and he’s missing his blazer. You couldn’t help but to let your eyes fall on his forearms, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves.

He doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest, acting as though you aren’t even there as you stand awkwardly before him. He doesn’t even look at you, and you can feel your confidence leaking out of your fingertips like water from a dripping faucet.

When his eyes finally find you, your breath is almost forced out of you by the hardness in them. Lifting his hand, he gestures toward the chair at the other side of his desk, his voice just as stern as his glare.

“Sit.”

You think, briefly, about denying him…but you really don’t think now is the time. He seems fairly upset already. So you sit, timidly sinking into the chair and bowing your head. His gaze never leaves you, gliding over your face, your chest, anything his hungry eyes could find and devour before he must speak.

When he stands, he takes the files he had been examining and folds it as he puts it back in his drawer. He puts one hand in his pocket, the other setting his cigar between his lips as he stays there for a moment. There’s more silence as he stands there, smoking, watching, seething.

“Twelve grand.” You look up at him, your lips parting. “That’s what he was going to pay for you.” His lips twitch in a sneering grin, shaking his head as he wipes his face with one hand. He looks away, chuckling humorlessly. “Twelve thousand fucking dollars.”

This is doing nothing for your ego. You have to fight the tiny smirk trying to find its way to your face at the idea of that—rather god-like of a man, in your opinion—would pay that much just to spend a single night with you.

You’re not as slick as you think you are. Blue sees the expression on your face, the smile in your eyes, the chuckle caught in your throat. He turns to you, his head tilted to the side as he smirks at you. His eyes are hooded with a possessive intent in them that sets you on fire.

“Oh,” he chuckles, “you like that, don’t you, Kitten?” He motions a hand toward you, lifting a brow. “You feel special now? You like knowing someone wants you that badly? Hm?”

You bow your head once more, finding his gaze, his taunting a little too intense now. You rub your hands together, lacing them and rubbing some more. But he’s not having it.

“Look at me.” You obey his command, his livid glare boring holes into you. He leans forward, pressing his fingertips against the cold wood of his desk, his cigar still snug between his thick fingers.

“I know you’ve been wanting my attention…” he sniffs. “Well, now you fuckin’ have it. All that money lost just because I said no.”

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip, a single question bouncing off the walls in your head as you think about everything that’s gone down tonight, the past few weeks, the past month. Your voice is weak, faint, as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Why did you?”

He turns his ear to you, as though he can’t quite hear what you’re asking him. He feigns surprise, his eyes squinted. “Why did I– Why did I say ‘no’?” It’s like he can’t fathom how you could ask him such an ignorant question. Again, you look down at your lap, playing with your hands.

Blue sets his cigar in the ashtray, the smoke lifting into the air and intoxicating you both. He walks toward you, rounding his desk to stand in front of you. You hold your breath, refusing to look up at him as he bends down with his hands gripping the arms of your chair. Your faces are so close, merely inches apart as you breathe each other’s air.

You don’t flinch as he lifts his hand, sliding his two fingers underneath the white leather and pulling hard on it. He tugs you so you have to look at him, and your noses are nearly touching as he does it.

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. His fingers grip tighter around it and his thumb brushes over the golden tag, your breath hitching.

You swallow thickly. “My collar.”

He nods. “Do you know what it says?”

Your mouth feels so dry, but you squeeze your thighs together as you try to keep your breath in check. Your voice is so small, merely a squeak of a thing as you nod with as much room as you’ve got to.

“Kitten.”

He hums, licking his lip. “Do you know why it says ‘Kitten’?”

You’re barely breathing, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “That’s what you named me.”

“And why did I name you that? Hm?” His grip tightens even more. His knuckles dig into the skin of your throat and make it harder to breathe. “Why did I give Kitten a new name?”

You whisper your response, too caught up in the closeness, the whirling sensation of his cologne invading every part of your senses. “Because I belong to you.”

He clenches his jaw, tugging on the collar as he presses his cheek to your own, growling in your ear. “I can’t hear you.”

“Because I belong to you.”

The smile that devours his face is wide as he lets go of your collar just to wrap his hand around your throat. You gasp lightly as his fingers tighten just right, making your breath thin and your head light with the feeling. Heat covers every square inch of your body and makes it hard not to let yours search his out.

“That’s right!” he praises, chuckling heavily. He lowers his voice just above a whisper. “That’s right, my sweet, little Kitten.” He punctuates every word, caught up in the powerful sensations of his dominion over you.

His hand slips off your throat, taking the tag between his thumb and forefinger as he strokes the cool metal. “Have you seen the back of my little trinket?”

You shake your head, your eyes falling between his and his lips. He seems pleased by this.

“You’re the only one here with this, you know?” He flips it over, reading the back with a huge swell of pride both in his chest and in his pants. “Property of Blue Jones.”

You like the sound of that. It’s fitting. You’ve gone through guy after guy after guy, you’ve picked them up and dropped them, not even your father could keep you in his house, much less in line. And now…now you’ve found a man who could actually keep you, with a collar slapped on your neck to display his possession of you.

He lingers there, staring at the pendant like he’s been put in a trance. His lip twitches, his fingers tighten, you can feel his breath pick up by the way it fans against the mostly exposed flesh of your chest.

You gasp when his hand wraps around your neck, this time with a little more force as he tightens it and forces you to stand. You raise your hands to grab his wrist, his grip barely loose enough to allow you to breathe.

“Me,” he growls. “My property. My sweet, little Kitten. I got you this collar because I thought it would help you to remember, but you seemed a little forgetful before.”

He lets go of you, and you almost stumble as you try to take a deep breath in. It feels good, breathing. He watches you, a gleam in his eyes that tells you he enjoys doing this to you.

He walks around you, examining every inch of you with the hunger of a predator stalking its prey. You feel every layer being pulled away, bit by bit—first your jewelry, then your clothes, then your flesh, then your meat, until you’re nothing but chilly bone.

“Did you like the way he touched you, hm?” he wonders as he comes up behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling your back flush against his chest. You can feel the hardness in his pants pressing against you, and it’s maddening.

“You like the way he groped you?” You shiver at the words he whispers into your ear, his voice low, hollowing you out until you’re nothing.

“You like the way he kissed you?”

His other hand lifts this time just to feel the way his hand slots so perfectly around your throat. You sigh, your breath so light and the feeling stirring within you so teasing.

“Answer me.”

You nod, the movement so slight but he can feel it in his hand. “Yes,” you whisper, your knees weak and trembling. You feel like you’ll fall if he lets go of you.

But he does. He lets you go like you’re nothing, and you stay on your feet. You look down at the floor, catching your breath as he walks away to sit back down in his chair. He sinks down, spreading his legs wide as he takes his cigar between his fingers again.

It’s uncomfortable, the way your panties are sticking to you. You don’t want to move your thighs and entice Blue some more with his tactics, not like they aren’t working already.

Smoke billows from his nose as he juts his chin toward you. “Come here.”

You swallow thickly, turning and walking slowly over to where he lounges in his chair. He watches you the whole time. He’s always watching you.

When you stand before him, he hums lightly. He looks you up and down, thoroughly enjoying the view before patting his thigh. “Bend down.”

You set your hands on either side of his chair, like he’d done to you, and lean down so your faces are barely inches apart. He raises his cigar slowly to your lips, and you let them part as he sets them there, watching your mouth wrap around it with an earnestness that feeds your ego as the Panther’s generosity had done.

You breathe it in, nice and slow, filling your lungs as easily as you had done before. It’s a lot stronger than the smoke you’re used to—cheap cigarettes and rolled up blunts—and it feels good. He pulls it away when you stop.

Your eyes flutter as you lean forward just a bit, your lips ghosting over his parted ones as you begin to blow the smoke into his mouth, feeling the way his breath sucks in to taste it and you on his tongue.

You pull away when your breath blows clear, and he stays there for a moment as he lets the dissipating smoke linger in his mouth.

He breaks the silence. “You started smoking to piss off your father, didn’t you?” His eyes open, and they’re black with lust.

You nod. “Yes,” you admit. “I was…rebelling.”

He shakes his head. “You are rebelling,” he corrects you, sitting up a little straighter as he flicks the ashes of his cigar into its tray to hide the way he fixes himself. He sniffs, turning back to you.

“But no worries,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “Daddy can fix that.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you forget to breathe. Your eyes go wide and heat flushes into every crevice your body has to offer. It curls in your gut and leaves you practically shaking before him.

A smile spreads over his lips, it’s this dark thing that does nothing for the curling lust in your belly. “Oh, yes…” he purrs, sitting up just to be closer to your face as he raises one hand to your chin. He cups you in his palm, his fingers finding their purchase in your cheeks in a less than kind manner. “I read your file. Part of my job is to know everything about my girls. It helps me know how to keep them in line.”

He pats his thigh, his eyes unblinking as he watches you. You swallow dryly, moving on unsteady legs to do as he wants and lower yourself onto his lap between his spread legs. His hand falls on your lower back, rubbing dangerous circles up and down the length of it.

“Your father thoroughly complained about you. Wrote about all the stuff you used to do,” he begins. You fight the urge to bite your lip when his palm comes to rest on your knee, stroking the bare skin like treasure. “You used to stay up late blasting your music, go out all night with your little friends—and you wouldn’t return ‘til morning. You smoked around the house, cursed, talked back.”

He tuts like he’s disappointed in you, though you can see the amusement glistening in his gaze. “Said you used to bring back boys. You’d lock yourself in your room and scream all night,” your breath hitches when his hand travels away from your knee, moving up and up and up until he’s caressing the delicate skin of your inner thigh. “You moaned and whined, and you kept him up the whole time.”

You bite your lip when his fingertips brush the soft fabric of your panties, already soaked through with the arousal he’s been pulling from you since day one. You can see the delight whispering in his eyes. He hooks his arm around you as he shifts you onto his lap, your legs on either side of his own to make you straddle him, to make your tiny skirt ride so high up your thighs that your sheer underwear is easily exposed to him. It’s a nice position, albeit a jealous one. He must have been quite upset, seeing you doing this to the Panther a mere hour or two ago.

“You’d yell ‘Daddy this’ and “Daddy that’,” he sighs. His hands grope your ass tightly, and your lips part on a sigh at the way he grinds you down into his lap. “What were you saying, hm? What were you begging for?” His expression shifts into that of a pout, his lip jutting out as he mocks you. “‘Yes, Daddy’, ‘Please, Daddy’, ‘Fuck me, Daddy’.”

Your head is dizzy with the pressure of his hands, his meanness, even simply his breath on your skin. You keep grinding your hips in his lap, back and forth, enjoying the feeling of his bulge pressing against the wet fabric of your panties.

“Is that what you were saying? Hm?” His heavy breaths keep fanning over your skin, driving you to madness. “Were you a good little kitten for all those ‘bad boys’ you fucked?”

You don’t respond, you can’t. Between the grinding, the gasping, the teasing, your mind is so full of all the things you want to happen.

You’re torn crudely from your fantasies as he stops the insistent movement of your hips, his hand already wrapping around your throat before you can even open your eyes. He pulls you close to his face, the smell of tobacco and leather and wood filling your senses.

“Tell me what you did,” he demands. “Show me.”

You fight the urge to smile, lifting your hands to rest on his shoulders to steady yourself. You gently push him back against his chair, slowly leaning forward so your lips brush the lobe of his ear as you speak in the sweetest, softest voice you can muster.

“I did whatever he asked me to,” you breathe, rolling your hips once more onto his lap with a slow, teasing, maddening leisure. “I moaned, I screamed. I bent over and let him fuck me.” The tiniest whimper slips from your lips, your voice going just the slightest bit higher the more you grind and the more you imagine. You press your hand to his chest, feeling his beating heart underneath your palm as he watches you with hooded eyes and parted lips. He’s just as bad as you. “I got on my knees, and I sucked him off. I obeyed…” your lips curl into a little smirk as you lean down to his lips, “...like a good little kitten.”

You know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand by the way his eyes flutter, his unsteady breath fanning over your lips. Now that you’ve both got a hold of the other…it’s mutually assured destruction. Neither of you are letting go.

“Well,” he says, “you don’t have to concern yourself with boys anymore.” Just as you had done for him, his lips brush your ear and a shudder runs down your spine. “Daddy’s got you. You belong to me now. Only me.”

He pulls you back, his hand rough at the back of your neck. He lowers his voice to a dangerous murmur, each word distinct as just as threatening as the last. “And no one else is allowed to touch you, unless he wants his head wrapped around a bullet with my name written into the side. Do you understand?”

Breathlessly, you nod, realizing how very real his threat is and not caring enough to be properly scared. This is what you want, this is what you need, and no one is going to take that away from you now.

“I’m yours,” you whisper. And this time with conviction, “I belong to you, Daddy.”

His lips twitch, thoroughly pleased with your declaration. He leans in, so close yet so far.

“Now give us a kiss.”

The kiss that consumes you both is the equivalent to a wild beast ripping out the throat of its food. Neither of you knows who is who, and yet you both breathe in the scent of the other’s succulent blood through your nose, taste the sweet iron in its flow, embrace the warmth of it on your skin. You’re starving for it as your teeth sink into the skin of his bottom lip between the glide of your mouths against the other’s.

His hand wraps securely around your throat as he devours you, and you moan at the fuzzy feeling tingling in the back of your brain. He tastes of tobacco and whiskey as he licks into your mouth, taking what is rightfully his as you explore your pleasure with a roll of your hips.

When he pulls your face from his own to slot his lips over your throat, you feel your mind reeling. His teeth nip at your flesh, his tongue laps at the taste of your sweet skin, his lips suck at the unmarked skin, ready to right the wrong of you being unclaimed by him until this moment. You can already feel it, the purpling of your skin tomorrow when you get to see the results of his conquering.

Blindly unlacing the strings of your corset is hard, especially when your fingers shake with the thrill of his touch, when there are so many strings and not enough mind to undo them all. It loosens from your chest and you gasp at the feeling, feeling a shudder rushing down your skin at the way the corset brushes your sensitive skin. And when it’s gone, the heat of his flesh against yours is igniting. You squeal lightly when his large hand swallows your breast whole, kneading and groping and pinching until your nipple is a hard peak upon it.

“Fuck,” he sighs as he ventures his mouth down to suck your other one between his lips. You arch your back into him, pulling him close and enjoying the feeling of it, the attention, the sensation. You glide a hand down his chest, feeling the soft material of his button down, hardly hearing the gentle tap of your nails against the buttons over the sound of your breathing. You bite down on your lip—now cut from his insistent kiss—as you tug on the belt still wrapped around his waist.

His free hand grasps your own so quickly that you hardly have time to process it as his teeth graze the delicate flesh of your earlobe. You hold your breath as he whispers in your ear. “Beg for it.”

He pulls away to look at you, tilting his head as he awaits your response, his hooded eyes unblinking as his gaze bears into you. Blue watches as your face changes. He watches your bottom lip jut forward and tremble, he watches your brows pinch together. He watches as sadness suddenly fills every little feature of your face.

But he knows there’s no agony in those eyes.

“Please,” you whimper weakly, your voice pitched and almost whiny. “Please, Daddy, need you to fuck me. Please, I need it.”

The sound of it goes straight to his cock, which grows harder and harder with every second you spend pressed against his body. He grins, leaning in until your foreheads are pressing together so he can look up at you like he pities you. “You should beg more often,” he chuckles lightly. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

“Please, Daddy,” you indulge him. “I’ll do anything.”

Fuck, he loves hearing that. It’s like music to his ears as his hand tightens so slightly around your throat. If he squeezed a little harder, pressed his palm just a little more into the column of your neck…

A surprised yelp tears from your throat when he stands to his feet, his arms wrapping tightly around you to hold you up. You hook your ankles so tightly behind him that you feel like you’re squeezing the life out of him.

Blue retrieved his cigar before sweeping everything off the desk and onto the floor with little regard for having to clean it all up later. He laid you down on the desk, looking down on you with a smirk. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You do as you’re told, and you’re happy to do it as he sets his cigar between your delicate lips once more. “Hold that for me, won’t you?” You nod with a little smile, watching as he begins to undo his belt with deft fingers. If he weren’t standing between your legs, you would have rubbed your thighs together to ease your rising need for him. And as he unbuttons each and every single little button on his shirt, unveiling more and more skin for you to discover, you feel like you’re going to blow.

You shudder when he grabs your hips, feeling the skin with an appreciative grin. He turns you on your side and grabs the top of your skirt, pulling a shocked sound from you when he’s ripping the clothing off by the zipper until it’s entirely useless. He strips you bare with as much barbarity and as much kindness as he cares to give.

He straightens his back, peering down at you as he begins to circle the desk. He stands on the other end, bending down to take the cigar from your lips when he’s met with a cloud of smoke billowing in his face. He breathes it all in, chuckling deep in his chest as you smirk up at him.

He looks at you, a primal grin spreading over his lips as he stubs the end of the cigar until it flickers out. He attacks your lips with his own, enjoying the taste of you as you raise a hand to bury in his hair and keep him close to you. When his mouth travels to your breasts once more, you pant and huff at the way he tastes you.

It all becomes so much worse when you feel his finger dip between your folds, brushing over your clit before teasing the lips of your pussy. The slightest whimper escapes you before he even does anything.

But then he pulls away from you, standing up again with his unbuckled belt as his hands grip his pants to push them down his legs. You lose breath at the sight of him, his hard cock so close to your face as it aches for you.

“Open wide, Kitten,” he orders, his eyes as black as licorice.

Once again, you do as you're told as you let your mouth open wider to let him in. He guides the tip of his cock to your lips, and you suckle around it, eager to taste the drop of precum that immediately leaks out onto your tongue.

He groans, his need slipping into something more volatile as he presses himself farther into your mouth. It’s warm and wet and irresistibly glorious as you suckle around him, eager to please, eager to make him feel good as you accommodate for his size.

“Good girl. That’s a good kitten,” he pants, his eyes drooping low as he looks down at the way your throat stretches around him the farther he goes.

When you’re tapping his thigh, telling him to pull out to let you breathe, it takes a moment for him to even heed you. You just look so delicious, feel so delicious. He pulls out, and you’re gasping for breath as you attempt to catch it.

He doesn’t give you too much time, though. No, he likes you too much. He slides his cock back between your lips, going farther and farther until your lips are pressing against his pelvic bone. He places a hand on your throat, not caring that your chest shudders for breath as he feels his cock through the stretch of your throat.

He groans, pulling out and pushing back in and pulling out and pushing back in as you try to get used to his rhythm, catching breaths where you can catch them. When his fingers tease your folds, it becomes so much worse, and it only continues to do so when he pushes two of them between your folds and curls.

He pulls out of your mouth to let you breathe just as he begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, his deft fingers working to make you high off the pleasure. You arch off the table, your mouth wide open and your thigh opening and closing of their own accord. You’re caught off guard when he pushes his cock back into your mouth at his own need.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” he breathes, his hips seeking out that pleasure. Your lungs squeeze, begging for air as little gasps and gags wreak havoc over your body.

And when he finally pulls out, catching his breath with his fingers still shoved inside of you, you’re entirely breathless attempting to do the same.

You watch with teary eyes as he pulls his fingers out of you next, bringing them to his lips to taste you. With a heavy sigh and a deep hum, he licks your arousal clean. “Like fucking honey,” he breathes.

You wipe at your tears as he walks around the desk again, his eyes never leaving your body. When he’s bending over your body once more, his lips hovering over your own and his hands coming up to pin your arms at either side of your head, you can’t help but to breathe in the scent of his cologne, his breath, the fucking gel in his hair.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, Kitten?” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your face. You shake your head gently, staring up at him with wide, wet eyes, like you’re just terrified of what he’s about to say, as though you can’t feel the arousal flushing through you at the mere idea of the possibilities rushing through your head.

His voice is low, gravelly, a growl in your ear as his grasp tightens around your wrists. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

Your tongue darts out to lick your bottom lip. Your breath is shallow and unsteady as you speak in a whisper of a voice, “Please, Blue. Please ruin me.”

The humor has left his eyes, any that may have been lurking within them. His face drops into something devilish, something possessive and twisted as the grip of his hands tighten. The slightest whimper escapes you, the pain ignites something both in you and in him at the buzzing pain in the tips of your fingers and the pressure of your wrists.

You lean forward—as best you can. Your words are gentle breaths in his face. “Ruin me so that no one can please me but you.”

He grunts as his heavy breaths erupt. You don't have time to think before he's turning you over so the front of your body is pinned to the dark wood of his desk, your warm cheek pressed into the chilly wood beneath it.

Without warning, Blue thrusts himself into the wet plushness of your pussy, his thick cock stretching you out in such a delicious way. You moan as you grip the edge of the desk to steady yourself, closing your eyes shut to enjoy the stinging sensation of his sudden intrusion.

Blue presses himself into you until his pelvis pushes insistently into your ass, burying his cock inside of you. A heavy breath forces its way from his chest, his whole body relaxing at the way you squeeze around him.

“Fuck, my perfect little Kitten. So fucking perfect for me,” he rambles. His hands find your waist, holding you tightly as he begins to pull himself out of you.

“Perfect, just for you– Mmph, fuck!” You're cut short when he thrusts into you again, a spasm of pleasure consuming every nerve in your body.

Blue’s thrusts are hard and rough but in no way measured or controlled as he fucks you to his need. His mind is reeling with his own pleasure, his gasps and grunts in your ear making you clench around his cock and inspiring another rough thrust.

“I'm gonna make you fucking scream for me, Kitten,” he huffs, accentuating his words with hard thrusts. “You want that? Hm? You want Daddy to make you scream? You wanna fuckin’—Mmh!—scream for Daddy?”

You nod, his—rather teasing—pace driving you insane as you yearn for the erratic and cruel rhythm you know he's dying to show you. You've known since the moment you saw him. The moment he gave you that dark and monstrous gaze, you've known he's always imagined you as the precious little kitten he's come to know just so that he can bury his teeth in your neck and rip out your throat.

You know there's no possible way this predator isn't dying to tear you limb from limb and enjoy the taste of your blood dripping from his lips.

“Wanna scream for you, Daddy. Make me fuckin’ scream.”

You would die a happy woman for a fucking like this.

He's rough and ruthless. He grabs you by your hip and hair and holds you down while he fucks into you. His thrusts are so hard that every time he punches that spongy spot inside of you, you see stars. He grunts on top of you, pulling on your hair and smacking your ass like he's punishing you for something—perhaps he is.

His hips continue to snap into you as he drives himself deeper, rougher, pulling each sound from you like plucking the strings of a guitar. The tight leather of your collar is a welcome feeling, like his hand around your throat, keeping you safe and warm. It reminds you with each and every thrust who it was that wrapped it around your throat in the first place.

It feels nice—dizzying, even—to be owned. You have no worries, no cares. You serve Blue, and you gain all the luxuries a girl could want. They’re easy conditions, ones you would happily live by. You don’t think you’d care if you spent every day crawling on your hands and knees, eating and drinking from a bowl, taking treats out of the palm of his hand. If it meant he’d fuck you like this, growling in your ear that you belong to him, that he will take care of you, that he’ll protect you—dare you say, that he’ll love you, even if it’s love in the way that a dog loves his favorite chew toy—you would do it with a smile and a purr on your tongue.

You don’t know when you began to cry. If you hadn’t felt the warmth of hot tears spilling over the apples of your cheeks, you don’t think you ever would have noticed them through the rush of pleasure. A broken moan slips after a harsh thrust. You felt Blue’s hand detangle from your hair and slip his thick fingers over the column of your neck.

He pulls you roughly back to look at your face, watching your tears change course to rush down the sides of your face. His face twisted into a pout, a mean and cruel pout that mocked glistening in your eyes, like diamonds.

Never missing a beat, he let out a faux whine. “Aww,” his brows knit together, “is my little kitten crying? Hm? Is it too much for her to take?” The fake sympathy is interrupted by another drive into you, his fingers flexing around your throat. “You can't handle how good I'm making you feel, is that it? My little slut is just so hungry for more.”

You whimper weakly, clenching around him and nodding, a disheveled mess underneath him, a slave at his mercy.

He smears your tears all over your face, smudging your already messy lipstick and mascara. “You're so beautiful when you cry, Kitten,” he groans, his heavy breath loud in your ear.

Your mouth falls open to let out a breathy cry as your hand flies up to wrap around the beck of his neck. You pull him down, your lips mashing in a brutal kiss. It's a primal sort of passion, the hot and heavy air is charged with the desperation and desire for destruction and decimation. You kiss with mangled lips and biting teeth, reaching for the other in a reckless attempt at consuming the other.

He wants to take you in his jaws and rip your throat out, pick you from his teeth and savor the taste of your blood on his lips. You want to bury your claws in his flesh and never let go.

His name dangles off your lips, and he laps it up hungrily. “Fuck, Daddy, don't stop.” Your senseless blabber fills the space between you, accompanying your whines and his grunts and the slick sounds of his cock pressing deep inside your sopping cunt. “Feels so good, I can't—mmph, Blue!”

He lets go of your throat in favor of wrapping an arm around your neck, pulling you into him as he buries his face in the space between your neck and shoulder. He inhales your scent, reveling in it—the smell of your sweat, your perfume, the shampoo in your hair.

You can’t what?” He taunts you with all the sympathy of a parasite draining its host. “Oh, you can’t handle it? Huh? You can’t take my cock like the good little kitten you’re supposed to be?” His voice is laced with all his mocking, his meanness and venom corrosive to your skin and creating the most delicious burn. He takes the lobe of your ear between his teeth, grunting harshly at the way you clench around him. “You’re gonna have to, baby,” he says, thrusting into you like it’s taking all his strength not to completely ruin you for even himself to use. “You gotta be good for Daddy. You’ll be good for me, right?”

You bury your face in his arm, kissing the flexing muscle at your face and trying not to sink your teeth into him like you really, really want to. “Yes,” you stutter. “Yes, I’ll be s-so good, Daddy.”

He smiles, admiring the teardrops on his arm, your kisses on his skin, the brush of your tongue. “Good,” he laughs. “Good girl.” He presses his mouth into your neck, shifting so that he’s sucking and biting at the skin, eager to mark you up some more, show everyone who you belong to in the rare case that they ever forget—in case you ever forget. You mewl at the feeling, unable to fight back the urge to taste his skin as you nibble at the little slips of flesh that you find.

His thrusts begin to stutter after a while, rough and erratic, losing their rhythm as he devolves. His low groans have weakened into shorter mewls, desperate gasps. The pleasure deepens and your head spins with it. It’s so much, too much and not enough as it purges every space in your body as your clit aches for his touch. You’re so, so close to the edge but so, so far without the rough pad of his fingers abusing your mewling bead.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum, Kitten.” His confession is followed by a heavy breath. “I’m gonna cum, and you’re gonna take it all.”

A shudder rushes down your spine but gets lost in the muddle of ecstasy coursing through your confused mind, full only of the sounds of your slick and his grunts and your moans and the squealing of the desk beneath you, abused under the weight and exertion of you both.

You mumble through the fuzzy, hazy mess of your brain. “Yes, Daddy. M’gonna take it all.”

His arm tightens around your neck, his hand crushes your hip in his grasp. The sloppy smacks of his hips against your ass continues on as he fucks into you with all the enthusiasm of a man seeing his treasure waiting for him.

Blue cums with a growl, spilling inside as he pumped his cock in and out and in and out and in and out of you. He paints your walls with his warm cum, his head spinning with the way you milk him with your squelching cunt. He presses inside of you as deep as he’ll go, ensuring none of it slips out as your name and little curses and uncontrolled gasps fall from his lips.

You whimper as he crushes you under his weight, glad to take it all, everything he had to give you—his weight, his touch, his cum, the mercy of even allowing you the pleasure of this.

You listen to the way his breath slows, feel the way his thrusts become slow and deep, grinding inside of you just to relish in the feeling of you responding to him in the perfect way that you do.

After a moment, you feel him pulling out of you and whimper at the empty feeling he leaves you with. He breaks away from you, standing and walking away with a deep breath and a sniff. You lay there, your limbs trembling and charged with an unshed tension that continues to coil in your gut without his cock to soothe you.

You lift yourself onto your hands, looking over your shoulder at him and feeling the need and desperation gnawing at your bones. He doesn’t even look at you, like he’s completely disregarded you from his mind. You feel like you might cry—as though you hadn’t been already. You need so badly to cum, to come apart by his touch.

You sit up on his desk, knowing that if you tried to stand, you would only wobble in place. You lick your lips, bringing up the courage to grovel at his feet. He’s already broken you down to this mewling creature crushed under his weight, there’s no lower you can go right now. You just need him.

“Blue?” you nearly whisper, your lip jutting out just a bit as you try to make yourself look as small as you can. He just hums, his back still turned and his attention still divided. You lick your bottom lip, taking in a gentle breath. “Please, Daddy,” you plead gently. “Can I cum?”

He looks over his shoulder at you, leaning back against the wall as he looks at you, his eyes still dark with the lust eating away at them. He rakes his gaze over your body, taking in the sight of you: your hair and makeup a mess, your body completely bare, your skin stained with his marks, your thighs smeared with his cum and your arousal. You look like an angel.

Perhaps he should’ve named you “Angel” instead.

“I don’t know, Kitten,” he says. “I don’t think you’ve been a good girl for me, yet.”

You push yourself off his desk, walking over to him as you take his face in your palms. “Please, I’ll be good,” you beg, pulling him close as your lips hover. “I swear, I’ll be good.”

He grabs you by your hips, still sensitive from his abuse before. Blue hoists you back onto the desk once more, standing in between your thighs as he raises a hand to wrap around your throat. “You’ve been teasing me, fucking taunting me.”

You hold your breath as he leans in close, so close yet so far from kissing you that you can’t help but to whine. His hand brushes your skin until he cradles your cheek, offering a false sense of security as he holds you with the softest hand you’ve ever felt. “I need you to know that you’re my plaything, not the other way around.”

Your breaths fan over his face as he stares at you and you at him. You raise a hand to hold the back of his, your eyes fluttering shut to feel his embrace. You think, for a moment, that you could stay here forever.

You’re broken from the intimacy of his touch when his hand wraps once again around your throat, tightening so slowly around the collar he’d slapped onto you. He sighs deeply, serving as your only warning as he steps even closer.

“Do you understand that?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering at the way he holds you. It’s an intoxicating feeling. Your hand travels down his until you're grabbing his wrist, pulling his hand even closer as you yearn for him to grip you just a little tighter. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathe. When he doesn’t move, you open your eyes again just enough to see him. He watches your face change, watching your brows knit and your lip pout. Your eyes glitter with submission. “Please, I’ll behave. I’ll be so good.” He tilts his head, and you actually manage to shed a tear. “I belong to you. I’ll always belong to you, Daddy. Blue’s good little kitten.”

The way you whisper the last part makes his eyes flutter, the muscles in his neck flexing to contain himself as he inhales sharply. A smile begins to curve his lips until he’s tightening his grin on your neck. He leans in, fully aware of the way you hold your breath as he whispers in your ear. “Good girl.”

No. He’s certain now. You’ll always be Kitten.

He picks you up, pushing you back onto your back and pulling you to the edge of the desk. He wraps your legs tightly around his waist, pumping his cock three times before he’s pushing into you. You gasp, arching your back off the desk as your head spins with the quick and sudden pleasure. He holds you tightly by your hips, filling the office once again with the sound of your wet pussy and filthy moans, the loud smacks of skin and helpless little mewls.

Blue builds his steady rhythm, and once he’s got you right where he wants you, he reaches between you as the pad of his thumb finds your aching clit. A deep gasp rips its way through your chest at the pleasure that blossoms there. It’s immediate and it comes with a dizzying mind as you struggle to keep it together.

He circles your clit, his pace quick and messy and perhaps a bit too rough. The heels of your feet dig into his back, pulling him in and trying to heighten your pleasure as you already feel that perfect release nipping at your fingertips. You reach up and wrap your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down until he’s forced to press his body against yours, his pace still quick and harsh, building his own release along with yours.

You tuck your arms underneath his own, burying your nails into his back and raking them down. You can’t wait to see the angry red lines that are bound to embed themselves into his skin. A whimpering sort of groan slips out of him at the way you scratch him, marking him with your own claim.

“My kitten still has her claws.” He smiles through clenched teeth, pride shining behind his eyes at the stinging of your sharp nails.

You bite your lips as the sparks of pleasure fill you up, your mind cloudy with the haze of your ecstasy. Your body is buzzing, and your limbs are trembling. You could feel your building climax taking you higher and higher, closer and closer to that sweet release.

Blue continues to rut into you, fucking you with all the energy he has left as you moan and whine and whimper. “Who do you belong to?” he demands, his lips mere centimeters from your ear. “Who owns you?”

It’s hard to speak through the fog of your mind, but you know that if you don’t, he’s going to stop, you can’t think of anything worse right now. “You, Daddy,” you gasp.

He shakes his head. “Say my name. Who owns you, hm?”

This pathetic whine unfurls from your throat and he knows you’re going to cum. His hips snap harder into you, startling his name from your chest. “Blue.”

He nods, the flick of his wrist working harder to bring you closer. He growls into your ear, “Say it again.”

The coil snaps just as you cry out, “Blue!” You cum with a shout, your vision flashing in and out as all the sounds of your pleasure blur into this strange symphony. All the breath is knocked from your lungs, your nails sink into his back to mark him once more in your own claim. Your words are entirely incoherent, but along the lines of “fuck” and “yes, daddy” and “oh, Blue”.

You flutter around him, your walls climbing down as you cum. The last of Blue’s restraint is flushed away by the way you clench around him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside you once again, clenching his jaw as he floods you with the last of his cum. “Mm-fuck, Kitten.”

Your bodies rock with one another, grinding and moaning and searching for the other as your pleasure fills the space between you. You imagine this is what it feels like to be so full of the adrenaline and bloodlust that a predator gets when it catches its prey within its jaws. This pulsing, rushing feeling throbbing in your ears and filling every nerve ending with pleasure. You can taste the blood and sweat on your tongue, you can feel the meat in your teeth.

Slowly, very slowly, you come down from your highs. It’s a slow dwindle, like a leak in a faucet, but you do. The ebb and flow of your releases dulls to a quiet wave in the back of your mind as you catch your breath. You feel so full, filled with his cum and his possession as you lay there, your thighs aching with the stretch of being spread so wide for so long.

Blue pulls away from your neck, your nose brushing and your breaths mingling. You’re consumed once again by him when he captures your lips in another bruising kiss. He tastes you, memorizing the feel of your soft lips, your warm tongue. It’s hard to keep up, but you do. Because you’ll be damned if you miss one beat of this primal play that keeps your heart pumping with this hunt that goes both ways.

Blue straightens his spine as he pulls out of you. He chuckles when another whimper comes out of you, mourning the loss of him. He pats your side twice, once again reaching for the nearly spent cigar in its tray. He sets it between his lips and lights it, letting the smoke billow from his mouth with a heavy sigh.

He turns around, stretching his limbs. You nearly drool at the sight of his flexing muscles, the red scratches lining his back, all the way down. You couldn’t help your smirk, proud of your good work.

He is yours. Blue Jones belongs to his Kitten, just as much as she belongs to him. You’re in his blood, in his lungs, in the very fabric of his skin.

“Like what you see?” he mumbles, feeling your eyes on his back. He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “I bet you got me good.” He chuckles.

You lean onto your elbows, watching him with all the tired lust left in your eyes. His gaze wanders from your eyes and down between your thighs, watching the way his cum begins to leak from your abused hole.

“You’re making a mess.” He bends down to pick his slacks off the floor, stepping into them absent-mindedly.

“Hm,” you mutter, standing to full height and ignoring the feeling of his warmth slipping down your leg. You grab his white button down, discarded somewhere on the floor. With your clothes destroyed, you have nothing to wear. You don’t think he’ll care about you stealing his shirt. “Something tells me you don’t care much.” You raise a brow at him, smirking slyly.

He smiles darkly, walking toward you with his cigar between his fingers as he takes your face in your free hand and kisses you again, still as hungry and as possessive as before, but a little softer than it had been in the mess of desperation that came with fucking you. His kiss is smokey, and you breathe it all in.

As he separates from you, his eyes darted from your own to your lips, then down to your breasts, and up once more to your eyes, he sighs. “I want you back in here tomorrow night. You and I have an appointment.” Your eyes flutter when you feel his hand drift down your body and back between your legs, cupping your leaking heat and pressing two fingers into you to shove his cum back in.

You swallow thickly, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Yes, Daddy.” He licks his lips, kissing you again quickly. When he pulls away, his hand follows as he’s bringing his cigar back to his lips. You pluck it from his fingers and set it between your own lips.

You turn away as you smoke it, listening to him lower himself into his seat as he watches you with a great amount of interest. You don’t bother even looking at the scraps of clothing left on the floor. You bend down to pick up your shoes, turning back to him and seating yourself on his spread lap.

You straddle him, arms wrapped around his neck and faces inches apart. You perch the cigar between two fingers, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke into his face with a very long breath. His lashes flutter, and his lips form a large grin. He loves when you do that. He breathes it in like the sweetest perfume. You’re in his lungs.

You lean in and kiss him again, addicted to the taste of him as you giggle. He meets you with just as much need, adoring the taste of you on his tongue. You sigh when you pull away, returning his cigar to his lips as you stretch your arms tightly over your head with a moan. Blue watches appreciatively, sighing as his eyes drift down to your perfect breasts.

You relax after a moment, like putty in his arms as you lean in too close, your face in the crook of his neck as you press kisses into the skin just to have an excuse to be this close. His hand flattens against your back, and he’s kind enough to rub two circles into it as he offers a long and unsteady breath.

Then he pats you gently, pulling his cigar from his lips. “Go get some sleep, Kitten.”

You sigh, pressing one last kiss to the skin before pulling away. You smile at him, full of faux innocence and all the charm in the world. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Blue.” You kiss him quickly before hoisting yourself out of his lap.

“You better.” It’s not up for debate, but you weren’t going to argue in the first place.

As you laid in bed that night with your collar in hand, you couldn’t help but to stare at the words engraved into the back of the tag like the claim you’ve both engraved into each other’s skin.

Property of Blue.

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm @queer_poncho @motopoppp @feyresqueen @quickslvxrr @patchesofwork @rattymess @hc-geralt-23 Tag yourself here...

[dreamsy990]

rough sketches for designs of all the pt for the wof au! (also more akechi and better joker here)

thoughts + closeups under the cut

i tried to give proper justification for all the pt to have their codenames here which for a handful of them meant their names are just. shortened versions of something else. so crow is short for crow poison. aka false garlic. its a type of flower :3. i mean theororetically crow would be a valid name but hes a rainwing here and it didnt seem like a very fitting name with that in mind? but theres a couple rainwings named after flowers i think. hes a rainwing for obvious reasons i think. id like to think hed have a very light color palette that shifts to this when he gives up trying to hide who he is. youuu can see that lighter palette in the art i linked earlier.

fox! which is short for snowfox. yes i know snowfox is a real canon name but yknow what else is canon? icewings have a big list of names they go down. so his name is snowfox. i dont have anything else to say here. like ofc hes an icewing hes YUSUKE. id like to think he left the ice kingdom to go to jade mountain (bc is it a wof au without jade mountain) to "broaden his horizons as an artist". which would be how he meets the other guys

skull! is it his real name? hes not telling! i am the least happy with his design tbh.

ORACLE!! her real name is beetle but she likes to go by oracle instead. i struggled a bit on what tribe to make her actually. originally i wanted her to be either part or fully rainwing? because i thought her using her camoflauge to hide from people in crowded places could be fun. but eventually i decided i not to do that. i dont think theres any hybrids in this cast actually? might actually change my mind on that to make noir half leafwing but shh. anyways i think a bug is fitting for her. so she gets to be a hivewing. no abilities for her shes just a little guy

JOKER!! i think it would be fun if joker IS his real name but people think its an alias. his design was easy as shit. ofc hes a nightwing ofc hes got big red stars on his wings hes JOKER. not pictured is morgana also! mona is jokers """pet""" scavenger who speaks dragon. congrats mona you finally get to be human! too bad its in the dragon au. anyways might post a morgana drawing whenever i clean up his design

violet! (named after the violet copper butterfly). her sisters name and the name she uses for a while is rose (named after the common rose butterfly). i ALSO kinda considered her being a rainwing (literally changing herself to look more like her sister) but decided silkwing was a better choice,,,,, im really happy with her design ok

PANTHER!! that is her actual name btw. MY FIRST THOUGHT FOR THIS AU WAS SKYWING ANN I WOULD KILL MYSELF IF SHE WAS ANYTHING ELSE,,,, ik skywings cant have blue eyes unless theyre firescales or sky but shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i wanted to,,,,,, canon is what i want it to be.

queen is short for queenfish! she was a bit of an afterthought sorry </3. but shes a seawing! good for her <3

AND NOIIIRRRR!! i wanted her to be a mudwing as soon as i thought about it for more than a second. design wise i dont have much to say but i think storywise it might be cool if she was an only child and her father (in an incrdible rare move for a mudwing) was actually a present figure in her life. leading her to be kinda isolated from her peers and giving her a big reason to be very attached to him. idk its just thoughts rn. i dont have a clear story in mind yet. anyways those are my dragon thieves i hope you liked them

[sunanthrope]

"When the wind is blowing, listen: she is speaking. When the wind is silent, speak: she is listening." -unknown

Apollo / Ars - He/It/Sun/Dog

The original coiner of Dogpunk - My Carrd

Please don't ask me questions about disorders, etc- just because I have it doesn't mean I know everything about it! I'm not a medical professional and I don't want to accidentally spread misinfo based on my personal experience with things!

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Intro

@sunkidd's Therian blog

*if you are coming from my other blogs, please be aware this blog contains swearing and strong themes and is not meant for sensitive age regressors!

if you support endos or you bastardize tulpas or any other variation of stupidity, or if you're even fucking "neutral" on them, get off my page

DNI:

Endosystems / Tulpa Romanticizers

Para/Pro Para (Objectum folk are fine!)

Proship

NSFW / 18+ / Minors DNI blogs

Antikin (why are you on my page)

anti fictionkin / otherlink / etc

anti agere / petre

Zionist or Anti-Free Palest!ne

More below cut

This blog is mainly for my ShepiMali kintype, but here are all of them including Kithtypes:

Weredog [may also be referred to as Cynanthrope, Lycanthrope, or Werewolf to make it easier lol] (Physical, main ID, my most open + public ID - I AM NOT WEREDOG-KIN!)

German Shepherd / Belgian Malinois mix (Holothere)

Changeling fae (Holothere)

Centipede (Kith)

Ginger Tabby Cat

Raven (Kith) @the-only-unkindness

Black Panther Jaguar @black-jaguar

Red Panda (Kin and Regression) @sunkidd

Blue shark / Mako shark [hybrid? idk] (Regression) @sunkidd

Blue shark / Red Panda mix-creature - My own species! Called a Slushee (Regression, kin) @sunkidd

Sable (Regression)

Ghoul [From the band Ghost] (Alters) @a-rytual

Zombie (Unsure. Maybe a mix between Kith & kin)

Vampire (Kith)

Kawasaki Ninja H2r motorcycle (Kin)

Twisted Transistor by Korn (Kin)

Right Now by Korn (Kin)

Eyeless by Slipknot (Kin)

Spit It Out by Slipknot (Kin)

Icky Thump by The White Stripes (Kin)

Solute Your Solution by The Raconteurs (Kin)