#something that could force someone to turn to dark deeds

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: Rafe Cameron. Your toxic ex boyfriend who can’t seem to let you go. Even your best attempt at fighting him off, telling him no, he comes back. He won’t let you go.

— CW: 18+ only! toxic!ex bf!rafe, dark!rafe, violence, kidnapping, strong language, cocaine use, fingering, choking, marking, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

— a/n: this is a work of fiction. i do not condone anything written. this will all be in rafe’s pov. enjoy🖤

likes, comments and reblogs aren’t expected but are very appreciated <3

❥ toxic — r.c

I always knew something was wrong with me. It started when my mom died. My mind just went… Dark.

My life had started taking a really dark turn. And for a while, I could control my dark tendencies, I could control the darkness that ate away at my mind. But, the older I got, the harder it became to control that darkness inside me.

For as long as I could remember, my dad always hated me. He fucking hated me, and there was nothing I could do to change that. He only cared about Sarah, my younger sister. From the moment she was born, all of his love and attention went to her. Like she was something fucking special, like she hung the fucking moon. I was left to care for myself, pick myself back up when I fell. My dad still financially supported me, — even though he wished he didn’t have too — so at least I still had that going for me.

But he didn’t love me. No, he wished I had been a stain on the bedsheets, wished I had been wiped away with a fucking warm washcloth after the deed was done. But that wasn’t the case, obviously. I was born. And I was here. And he fucking hated that.

I stopped believing in love at a very young age. Fucked up, right? What kid doesn’t believe in love? What kid doesn’t believe that someone is capable of loving him? If you didn’t already know the answer to that, it’s me. At least, it was me.

The idea of loving someone and being loved crept back into my life when I was eighteen. When she came into my life. I loved her the best I knew how, which, wasn’t really saying anything. I didn’t know how to fucking love someone, so… I hurt her. I hurt her in every way possible…

… And when she finally walked away from me, telling me that she “deserved better”, I fucking lost it. I lost the only fucking person in this world who mattered to me. The only person who tried to love even the darkest parts of me. I fucking lost her.

But her walking away from me. From us. Wasn’t going to stop me. No, she was fucking mine. And I was going to get her back, even if I had to force my way back into her life, she would come back to me.

“Rafe, are you sure about this?” Topper asks, pulling me from my own mind.

I shake my head, dragging my eyes up to find Topper’s intense stare. His eyes narrow into small slits, eyebrows raising as he tries to read my face. I blink. Once. Twice. “What?” I ask, completely confused.

“Are you sure you wanna do this shit, man? Y/N will never fucking forgive you, and you know…”

“I don’t fucking care, Top! She’s mine, and she needs to be fucking reminded of that!” I snap. My fists are now balled up at my sides, chest heaving up and down and nostrils flared as thoughts of her begin to fill my mind.

Topper throws his hands up in surrender. “Whatever, bro. Not my problem.”

I smile, but it holds no amusement. No happiness. It’s a cold smile. “Exactly. Not your problem. Now cut that shit up, I need one more line before I head out.”

Topper sighs, but does as I ask. He leans forward, grabbing my black Amex off the glass table and begins cutting a new set of lines for the two of us. I chew at the skin around my thumb nail as I watch him create four perfectly straight lines out of the white powdery substance.

Once he finishes, I shove his shoulder to the side, allowing me access to the table. I snatch the already rolled hundred dollar bill off of the glass, rolling it a little tighter and placing one end to my right nostril. I lean forward, sticking the other end of the bill onto one of the four lines and snort the powder up into my nose. I quickly do my second line before tossing the bill back onto the table and falling back into the couch, squeezing my eyes shut and letting out a loud sigh. The drug burns my nose and throat, but the numbing sensation that comes from the cocaine quickly replaces that burn. My nose, throat, and tongue are numb, but my entire body feels like it’s on fire, a new surge of adrenaline pumping into my veins and making me ready to do what I must do tonight.

I stand from my spot on the couch, glancing down at Topper once more before heading for the door. His concerned voice stops me in my tracks. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, man. She’s going to hate you after tonight”

I snort. I don’t give a fuck if she hates me. She’s mine, and she needs to be reminded of that. She can’t hate me more than she already does. Or maybe she can, I don’t know. If I have anything to say about it though, she won’t hate me. No, she’ll love me again. I’ll make sure she loves me.

“Maybe. But she can’t hate me forever. She will love me again.”

I walk out the door, slamming it shut behind me before Topper can even open his mouth to ramble off anymore bullshit. I didn’t care to hear it. I didn’t care about his opinion. I was doing this.

I sit outside of her work. Watching. Waiting. I know she’ll be off any minute now, I used to pick her up every night when we were together. My girl doesn’t have a car, so I already know she’ll probably be leaving with one of her coworkers, but that won’t stray my plan. It’ll only make it more interesting. More fun.

My phone goes off in my pocket, letting me know I have a text. Pulling it out, I glare down at the words on the screen.

Ward: Where the fuck are you Rafe? Tonight was fucking important and you’re fucking everything up. I don’t even know why i’m surprised, you’re nothing but a walking fuck up.

I growl, angrily tossing my phone into the passenger side floorboard. Fuck my dad. And fuck the business deal that he so badly needed me at tonight. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than money and Sarah. So naturally, I’m putting what I want first. And what I want is Y/N. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.

The sound of her laughter filters in through my cracked window, making me sit up straight in my seat. One glance out the windshield and I see her. She looks as gorgeous as I remember. And her laugh, fuck, it has my cock growing in my pants, straining against the harsh fabric of my boxers and jeans. I adjust myself, and shake my head a few times. I need to focus. My eyes travel to the left of her. My fists automatically ball themselves by my sides when I see her walking and talking with Pope. I fucking hate that pogue. I hate all pogues. Except for her. She will always be the exception.

He stands too close to her for my liking, and it makes my blood boil. Tossing a part of my plan out the window, I shove my door open and march my way toward them. She’s in the middle of talking when Pope’s wide eyes have her audibly clamping her mouth shut.

“Pope, what is- Rafe.” She says softly, her breathing picking up now that I’m right in front of her.

“Baby girl.” I reply, a slow smile spreading across my face.

“Don’t- Don’t call me that, Rafe. We’re not together anymore.”

My jaw tightens at her words, nostrils flaring as I try and keep my composure. I don’t need to lash out just yet. I need to keep my calm, for now.

I ignore her and turn my attention toward Pope. “Heyward. Get the fuck out of here.” I say simply. It’s as simple as that. He can leave, or I can beat the shit out of him. The choice is his.

He glares at me, his eyes narrowed into slits and his breathing calm. Seems like the kid grew a pair of balls in the last thirty seconds. He opens his mouth to speak, but my fist connecting with his nose cuts off whatever bullshit he was about to say.

“Rafe! What the fuck?!” Y/N shouts, dropping to her knees and checking on the boy that’s now laid out on the ground, blood pouring from his probably broken nose.

“Get up, Y/N. We’re leaving”

Her neck snaps in my direction so fast, eyes narrowed. “I’m not fucking going anywhere with you! Fucking leave me alone, Rafe!”

I roll my neck from side to side before taking a step toward her. “You can either come with me willingly, or I can make you come with me. Your call, baby girl.”

The look in her eyes has me straining in my jeans. She’s so fucking sexy when she’s mad. She looks down at Pope, he’s groaning and holding his nose as blood continues to pour from it.

“Y/N! Now!” I shout. My patience is growing thin. And she’s not going to like it if I have to force her to come with me. I want her to make at least one choice on her own tonight.

She slowly stands, but Pope grabbing at her hand has her stopping halfway up. I fist my hands, ready to fucking hit him again if needed.

“Y/N… Don’t go with him…” Pope says softly. I chuckle at that. He thinks she has a choice in the matter. The only choice she has is to willingly come. And even now, I have a feeling she’s going to opt out of that choice.

She glances between him and me, and I can see the gears turning in her head. She’s thinking of running. Go for it, baby. I’ve planned for her running. As if she can read my thoughts, she yanks her hand from his grip and turns as fast as she can. She takes off running down the empty street, but I’m right on her heels.

“Keep running baby, you know I love it when you run!”

She looks behind her shoulder, a look of pure fear in her eyes. When she puts her focus back on what’s in front of her I pick up my speed. Once I’m directly behind her, I wrap my right arm around her waist and yank her back into my front. She begins kicking and screaming, her nails clawing into my arm. “Rafe! Put me down!” She shouts, and I just laugh.

“Baby girl, you know I can’t do that.”

I carry her back to my truck, opening the back door and tossing her inside. I jog around to the driver side, glancing over to where she and Pope walked out of and noticing he’s gone. Oh well. Not my problem. My dad will get me out of whatever he tries to throw my way. I climb inside the truck, locking the doors and bringing the engine to life. I glance into the back seat to find her sitting up right, and she’s seething. Anger flashes through her beautiful eyes, her chest is heaving up and down and nostrils flaring as she glares at me.

“Fuck you, Rafe! What the fuck do you want?!”

I smirk. “You.” I answer simply, and her eyes go wide.

It’s as simple as that. I want her. And she is going to want me again, even if it takes days, months, years. She will want me again.

“Rafe, put me the fuck down! I can fucking walk!” She shouts. Her small fists are pounding into my back. I have her tossed over my shoulder, walking up the stairs of the porch and into the front door of Tannyhill.

Once inside, I finally set her down on her feet and she scrambles away from me. I laugh, she thinks she can escape me, but she can’t. She never will. She’s mine to own. To fuck. To control. She’s mine.

“You know, it hurts my feelings how scared of me you are, baby girl.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you fucking serious? You just basically kidnapped me, Rafe! You’re fucking insane!”

I let out a breathy laugh. “I am insane. But only for you. Because of you. I fucking love you, Y/N. Why can’t you see that?”

She scoffs. “You don’t love me. You want to fucking own me, like I’m your fucking property or some shit. I’m not! I’m a human fucking being, Rafe!”

I love the fight she has in her. I always have. Just not when she’s fighting me. Against me. She’ll learn soon enough that I am the scariest part of her life. I’m her biggest threat. But I will also protect her. She needs to be protected from everyone but me. She fucking needs me.

“This can go one of two ways, sweetheart. One. You can willingly come upstairs with me, and let me fuck that attitude out of you, let me remind you who the fuck you belong to. Or two. I can drag your ass up those stairs by your hair and remind you who the fuck you belong to. Either way, you’re going to be begging for my cock by the end of the night.”

I don’t miss how her nipples harden at my words. She still wants me. When she notices my eyes on her now hard nipples she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest, causing me to smirk in amusement and arch a brow.

“I don’t fucking belong to you, Rafe! God, you’re fucking crazy! Go to hell!”

A smile spreads across my face at her words. “Sweetheart, I am hell.”

Her breath hitches in her throat and her arms drop to her sides. I take a step toward her, causing her to take one back. I roll my eyes, taking one long step toward her and closing the distance between us. I wrap my right arm around her waist, pulling her flush into my body. I lean my head down, breathing in her intoxicating scent before my lips brush against the shell of her ear, I whisper, “You wanna do things my way? I’ll take you right here. Right now. Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I’m not against letting anyone see me claim what’s mine.”

I feel her body tense in my hold, and it only makes my smile grow. She’s scared of me. But that’s expected. For now. After I’m done with her, she’ll be begging for more. She won’t want to let me go. She’ll be mine, just like I am hers.

“Rafe-” She breathes out, but I cut her off. I smash my lips against hers in a breathtaking, aggressive kiss. She involuntarily moans against my mouth, allowing me to force my tongue into her mouth. She melts into me, her body going slack in my hold as she allows my tongue to explore her mouth, brushing against hers. God I fucking missed her. The taste of her.

She snaps her eyes open, pushing me back, and I’m so fucking weak from the kiss that I don’t fight it. I stumble back a little before straightening myself. She has her eyes narrowed and her tiny fists balled at her sides.

“Fuck you, Rafe! Stop trying to get into my head! I- I fucking can’t keep doing this with you!”

She tries to make her way past me, but I grip the back of her neck. I pull her backward, angling her head up so her eyes are on mine. She tries to pull herself from my grip, but I tighten my hand on her neck, making her whine out in pain.

“Is my soul too dark for you, baby girl? What is it? Can you not love me for who I am?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but I release her neck, tossing her onto the ground in the process. She lands on her ass, her hands flying behind her to keep her upright. I slowly make my way toward her, letting out a deep exhale.

“You see, I tried to be better for you. But I can’t change who I am. Not for you. Not for anyone. But, one thing did change. You wanna know what that is?”

Her eyes begin to fill with tears, one slipping past her lower lashes. “W-What?”

“I learned how to love. How to accept love into my life. I love you, Y/N. And you left me. Left me like I didn’t mean anything to you. That should have been enough for me to let you go. You know? I’ve always been rejected. My own dad fucking hates me. I’ve never known love. But you. You came into my fucking life and wrecked everything. I fell in love with you, and I know you loved me. So I can’t just let that go. I fucking need you. And you need me. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

I kneel in front of her, reaching my right hand out and running it down the side of her pretty face. She flinches back and I grip her cheeks between my fingers, squeezing tightly. “Now. Let me remind you of who the fuck you belong to.”

She whimpers, more tears spilling past her lower lashes. I lay her onto her back, crawling on top of her and caging her in with my arms. She doesn’t fight. Sobs rack her chest, and she rolls her head to the side, trying to avoid my stare. I press my hips into hers, groaning when my hard dick presses against her clothed pussy.

“You feel that, Y/N? That’s what you do to me. You own me. Are you going to let me own you?”

She rolls her head back toward me. Her bloodshot eyes and mascara stained cheeks make me groan. Fuck, I’m in love with this girl. Even if she’s terrified of me right now, I fucking need her.

I chuckle at her silence. My hands go to the hem of her work shirt, sliding it up and exposing her smooth stomach. I take my left hand and run my fingers over the expanse of her skin, pulling a shudder from her. “You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. And you’re all mine.”

She chokes out a sob, squeezing her eyes shut as my fingers trail up her stomach and to the underside of her bra. I cup one of her breasts in my hand, firmly squeezing at it. She whimpers, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to try and silence her cries of pleasure.

I slip her shirt up and over her head, leaving her in her pink lace bra. I snake my hand underneath her back, finding the clasps that hold the bra in place and pop them. My fingers find the straps, slowly sliding them down her arms and exposing her chest to me. Her nipples are hard, perfectly pointed peaks. My mouth waters, wanting to suck on them. I lean my head down, wrapping my lips around one of her nipples and sucking at it lightly before bringing it between my teeth and lightly biting. She moans loudly when I pull back with her nipple in my teeth. I let the pebbled bud fall from my mouth and smirk down at her.

“Are you wet f’me, sweetheart?”

She rolls her eyes. “No”

I chuckle. She’s lying. I know her better than she thinks I do. And I know she’s fucking lying. She’s ashamed. She doesn’t want to be wet for me, but she is.

I run my fingers down to the waistband of her jeans, popping the button on them and slowly pulling the zipper down. She squirms underneath my touch, trying to get away but I press my weight into her, keeping her pressed onto the cold tile of the entryway of Tannyhill.

I slide the rough fabric down her legs just enough to expose her matching pink thong. I bought her this set. And fuck, she looks good wearing it. I slide my hand between us again, running my hand up her inner thighs until I reach her clothed center. Even from here, I can feel how soaked she is. I slide her panties to the side, baring her cunt and running my index finger through her arousal slick folds.

“You’re right, you’re not wet. You’re fucking soaked, princess. Your body misses me.”

I shove my index finger inside of her soaked pussy, pulling a moan from her. I add another, curling them slightly and working them in and out of her slowly. I press my palm firmly against her clit as I continue to fuck my fingers in and out of her. The sounds her pussy makes while my fingers are buried inside her have me straining harshly against my jeans. She begins to roll her hips, fucking herself against my hand.

I bury my face into her neck, sinking my teeth into her flesh and sucking a bruise into her otherwise flawless skin. I release her skin, looking at the deep purple bruise that adorns her neck before I lick the bruise and up to her ear. I nip at the lobe of her ear before whispering, “That’s it baby, ride my hand. Good fucking girl”

She whimpers, her hips picking up the pace as she rides my fingers and hand. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, letting me know she’s close to her release. I quickly pull my fingers from her, and she whines at the loss.

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll cum. But it’ll be all over my cock. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to fuck this pretty pussy, and you’re going to love it”

I push myself off of her and quickly kick my shoes off before pulling my shirt over my head. I work on my jeans next, pulling them and my boxers down in one swift motion. Her eyes go wide when she sees my throbbing cock, precum already leaking from the tip. I drop to my knees and pull her jeans down the rest of the way. I rip her thong from her hips, making her gasp in surprise. “Rafe, I liked those!” I smirk. I can buy her a thousand more where that came from.

Ignoring her anger over the flimsy fabric I ripped from her body, I place my left hand on the ground, baring my weight while grasping my hard cock in my right hand and line it with her weeping entrance. My blue eyes find hers. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t fucking want this, because if you don’t, I’m not sorry for what’s to come. I will fucking hurt you. I will not be gentle.”

She doesnt respond, and I take her silence as my okay. I shove myself inside her in one harsh push. I groan when my swollen head hits that spongey sweet spot inside of her and she gasps loudly. Her hands fly around my neck, nails digging into my shoulders. I stay still for a minute, needing to focus on not busting inside of her right now. I want to enjoy this. I want to fucking feel her wrapped around me for longer than a few fucking minutes, but she feels so fucking good. I feel like a teenage boy discovering women for the first time all over again.

“Fuck baby girl, so fucking right and wet. And all for me.” I rasp.

“Rafe… Please?” She begs.

“Please what, baby girl. Tell me what you want”

She whimpers and it makes my dick jerk inside her. “Please… Fuck me Rafe. I- I need you.”

I smirk. She admitted that she needs me. She fucking needs me.

I ignore the small victory for now and slowly pull myself from inside her, slamming myself back inside her warm cunt before she can even think of saying anything.

My hips find a pace, quick and harsh. I slam myself in and out of her. Her sweat slick body slides on the tile, and I wrap and arm around her waist, keeping her in place. I still myself inside her, quickly grabbing her right leg and placing it around my hips, allowing me better access to her pussy. I begin pounding my hips into hers again, pulling the sweetest moans from her lips.

“Tell me you’re fucking mine. Tell me you won’t ever fucking leave me again.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing but whines and moans come out. I slow my hips, completely stilling myself inside her once more. My right hand wraps around her throat, squeezing and cutting off her air. Her wide, tear filled eyes stare up at me. “Fucking say it! Tell me you fucking need me! Tell me you fucking love me!”

She tries to speak, but my grip on her throat tightened, making her beautiful face turn a bright shade of red. Her lips begin to turn blue and I release her neck. She sucks in a deep breath of air, gasping as tears pour from her eyes.

“Tell me baby. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours, Rafe. Only yours. I need you. I love you. I’ll never leave you again.”

I smile at her words. They make a warmth flood through my body. A warmth i’ve only ever felt with her. She may be lying for her own pleasure right now, but she will love me again, and she will mean it.

Satisfied with her answer I begin thrusting into her again, slow and sensual thrusts that have her softly moaning. I dip my head down, burying it into her neck again. I sink my teeth into her shoulder, biting on the skin harshly before moving to the other side and repeating the action. She will be completely marked by me by the end of the night. Reminders of this night, reminders of who she belongs to marked into her skin.

Her pussy clenches around me, tightly gripping at my cock and sucking me in deeper. I groan, my lips kissing over all the bruises and teeth marks i’ve left on her skin. “Come f’me, princess. Come all over my cock, s’kay. Let me have it”

She whimpers, her pussy pulsing and body stiffening as her release rushes through her. Her body shakes, tears spill from her eyes as she screams my name. I smash my lips with hers, silencing her cries. Our tongues clash together, heavy breathing and the sounds of our skin slapping bounce off the walls. I break the kiss, my eyes finding hers. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty pussy baby. I wanna see you swollen with my child. Do you want that? You can’t escape me if you’re pregnant with my child.”

She whines, squeezing her eyes shut as she nears another orgasm. I feel her pussy clench around me again, squeezing me tightly like it’s trying to milk me for every last drop of my cum.

My hips stutter, dick twitching inside her warm and wet cunt as I explode deep inside her pussy. “That’s it baby, take it all. I wanna see you pregnant with my baby. You’re mine. Forever”

I push deep inside her one more time, shoving my cum deep into her abused cunt before I slowly pull myself out. I fall to the floor beside her, rolling onto my side and kissing her sweat slick forehead. “All mine baby. You’re never leaving me again.”

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[soapybutt17]

Do I Wanna Know?

Summary:John has blood on his hands, just as much as you did. But this was something different. He has his secret, just as much as you did in your line of work. But this was different, he has committed a war crime and the blood on his hands was something you held along your bloodied own.. Character: John Price x F!Wife!Reader. Word Count: 1,209 Chapter Warnings: Mention of Murder. Mention of Kidnapping and trauma associated with it. Mention of Survivor's guilt. Price is just a bb boi here that needs a lots of hugs and kisses. AU. Soap is alive here, but was hospitalized from the encounter.

Based on this ask:

Masterlist | Series Masterlist || Request are Open || Join My Taglist || 500 Followers Celebration

John Price was a lot of things. But to this day, he would have never thought he would murder a man without an order of anyone but for his own intentions. He had blood on his hands and there were only two individuals that knew.

Laswell that had orchestrated his ability to be in the man’s office. She who had ensured that he would do his deeds and leave without anyone knowing otherwise. Laswell knew what it meant to him, how John had to fight tooth and nail with the guilt of almost losing Soap because of the mission with Makarov. It was inevitable that he had to do this, he had to kill Shepard if he wanted to ensure the safety of everyone he cares for.

Then there was you, his wife, and his most trusted partner. He could do no wrong in your eyes. How even in your hesitation for the plan he and Laswell had devised had trusted him that it would not be placed back on him when the fire begins to spread. You trusted him even when you knew it was not the right thing to do.

“Hi,” He slipped back to your shared home.

You were in your pajamas tonight, with your daughter asleep on your lap and your son cradled in your arms fighting the last ounce of strength to keep awake. He could see the tiredness in your eyes but there was a darkness in your eyes that seemed to consume you as you looked at him.

“John.”

He gave a quick nod, kissing you at the top of your head but refused to touch you just yet. He feared the metaphorical blood still in his hands needed to be washed. He refused to hold onto you or his children when it painted him still. He refused to soil the very reason why he did what he had to do.

Walking upstairs to your shared bedroom, he shed himself of his clothes, refusing to place them in the hamper as the fire place would be a better end to them. He stood bare in his own bathroom, his eyes glued onto the mirror to the sight of him. Worn and torn by the war, never hesitant to pull the trigger if it means the mission is done and over with. How it had been so easy to pull the trigger and kill Shepard. It truly scared him, what he was able to do and even if he knew it was for the greater good.

He killed a man. It wasn’t accidental, it was not in the fields nor was it due to self-defense. He murdered a man in cold blood and as the night grows on, the guilt was coming at him with full force.

How the actions—or lack thereof had become a domino effect that he was trying his best to clean up, to pick the pieces back up and move on. He should have allowed Soap to kill Makarov all those years ago. He should have never trusted someone like Graves to be involved with his team. He should have never placed you in his taskforce.

All his actions led to where he stood now. A broken man that never knew what it felt like to be this broken until he looked at the mirror. How the tears came in floods, consuming him from the inside out. He was pathetic. A captain that could not even ensure the safety of his own team.

“John.”

He turned and he did not bother to wipe away the tears as he looked at you. He was wrapped in your arms as his sobs grew louder. He was weeping for the pain and torment his actions has caused you and every single one of his team.

Soap was barely alive. You had closely escaped death from being held captive. The world was almost about to begin world war three. Everything was going to shit and he genuinely did not know what he could do to stop it all.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You reassured stripping yourself of your clothes and pulling him into the shower.

The cold spray brought a deep shiver down his spine as it finally hit his skin. Standing in the middle of the shower, you had allowed him to wrap his arms around you as he continued to sob. All the pain of everything in his life slowly faded away as he held you in his arms.

Slowly as the tears no longer feel and he was hiccupping, you pulled away with tears in your own eyes. Your hands gently wiped the water on his face and kissed him in the cheeks and nuzzling your face against the crook of his neck.

“You did the right thing.” You assured him. “It was for the better.” You continued as you began to wash him.

Your movement was gentle—loving. You washed him with so much gentleness that he knew all too well that he didn’t deserve. He never deserved your love anymore after what he had put your through.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked him, lathering your palms with the shower gel.

“Do you want to know?” He quipped right back.

“If you want to me to know, I am more than willing to carry the weight with you, John.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispered holding onto your hands.

How bloodied and battered his hand was so easily cleansed by your touch. He held onto your own, intertwining them together as he pulled you in for a kiss. All the memory of the last few months momentarily faded away in your arms.

~

“I finally did it.” John spoke as he laid in bed with you in his arms.

All you could do was nod realizing what that had meant, what it would finally mean after all was said and done.

“Who knows what you did?” You inquired for a moment fearing the aftermath when all was said and done.

“You and Laswell. No one more.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him. Hands rubbing against his naked skin. You felt the goose bumps litter his skin from the memory more than from your touch. You know what had caused this, knew what it was for the best.

“Johnny’s finally awake.” You whispered to him, with him finally pulling away from a moment to look at you and the tears of relief flooded him.

“That’s—that’s good to hear. How’s he holding up?”

“His head hurts and making sure Simon’s head is too while he’s looking after him.”

You hoped that even just a glimpse of good news would appease him and the guilt that weighed so heavily on his shoulders.

“I’m glad…” He trailed off, moving his body until his head nestled against the plush flesh of your chest. “I’m so glad…”

Slowly you had felt his breathing slowly calm as his grasp around you slowly loosen. You laid still from where you laid hoping that in this moment everything would finally go back for the better. For your husband’s sake and for the rest of the team that was now ghosted by everything that had anything to do with Makarov and Shepard.

[animeyanderelover]

Request: Nsfw Hc's for Hannah Annafellows from Black Butler?

Tw: Yandere themes, Nsfw, possessive behavior, obsession, isolation, Stockholm syndrome, sadism, dub-con, manipulation, corruption kink, dacryphilia, blood kink, face-sitting, afab reader

Taglist: @lovley-valentine7@leveyani@chxxz

Nsfw Hc's

GIF by natsuki208

🟣​Hannah is all about the sweet manipulation, all about entrapping her darling until they are dependent on her, obsessed with her. Your own obsession could never compare to her own feelings of course as she, a creature of darkness and evil, feels something that goes beyond what humans commonly refer to as 'love'. Only after she has turned you into a demon would you be able to understand the full extent of her feelings for you. She'll take her time though to enjoy your humanity for as long as she can. As submissive and gentle as Hannah may appear to be she is a demon through and through, possessive over her human mate and biblically viewed as a sinful creature who tempts humans to abandon their virtue and join the hellish crusade, undeniably the sexual aspect of this relationship is something that will eventually cross your way one way or another. She does not violently force herself on you though, instaid waiting until she has wrapped you just enough around her fingers for her to coax and sweet-talk you into letting her show you just how much she adores you whilst the best you can give her is weak protest before you submit to her.

🟣​Known for being a species that greatly enjoys corrupting the hearts and minds of the common humans, Hannah finds herself finding her own pleasure in this aspect just as much. Especially if she senses that you are still unclaimed and still a virgin would she find herself on a more feral side during your first time, her dead heart thrilled as she rips away your innocence from you, taints and claims you all for herself. She'd be ever so slightly displeasured if she were to figure out that her darling is no virgin and has been claimed by someone before as the innocence of her mate would have been something precious she would have loved to devour. That primal resentment that something that should have only belonged to her got taken away subtly shows itself in the reveal of her more sadistic side during your first time together, in her more feral and possessive manner as she decides to erase every trace of them from your body as well as your mind until only she remains.

🟣​Every time the both of you do the dirty deed the demon lady slowly reveals more and more of her true nature and her desires to you. That sweet, nurturing and almost motherly facade of her slowly fades as you get more and more glimpses of her feral, sadistic and starving nature. Her praises are poisoned honey that she feeds you, her words admiring and adoring with a tinge of condescendence in it all. You are her everything yet you are ultimately still a human. Terribly weak and frail, gone in the blink of an eye for someone who has haunted the world for as long as she did. You helpless little thing need her. Every time you are laying beneath her she whispers those manipulative words in your ears and against your lips, forces you to admit it to her as she plunges you into orgasm after orgasm with her tongue, her mouth, her fingers, her hands. She feeds on your release, her tongue greedily devouring it all as her eyes turn for a split second magenta. It may not keep her satiated like the souls of people do but she still finds herself indulging in the taste of your growing adoration for her.

🟣​If you thought of her as a modest woman you should think again. She relishes in tormenting her darling just enough for the tears to swim in your eyes and your skin to start tingling in shame and fear. Sacred activities that were once restricted to the bedroom slowly get taken outside where the potential risk for other people to walk in is much higher. The scent of fresh night air and flowers, the grass your only cover as she fucks you in the fields where families normally have a picnic and children play around. A side street next to a normally busy main road as you are forced to stand on wobbly legs, supported by her hands on your hip as she kneels in front of you with her tongue deep inside your moist pussy. Every sound and embarrassed plea you make, voicing your fear of being caught only has her prolonging the process, drawing your anticipated climax out until you start begging her to finally make you cum. With her extraordinary senses she would never let someone else see you like this, a sight that should only be reflected in her demonic eyes. You don't need to know that though.

🟣​She provides you with great, albeit guilty, pleasure and soon it is your turn to give her some too. After all you would want to keep your lover happy as well, wouldn't you? Hannah loves the sight of you between her legs, loves watching you as you eagerly and sloppily lap at her pussy juices, desperate to provide her with the same pleasure she always has you experiencing. She is much more composed though as she pats your head, encourages you to keep going over and over again. Her own libido, whilst mostly controlled, is quite high so she can cum around your fingers and tongue for hours and still desire more as she coaxes you into spending hours pleasuring her and will by the end still be less exhausted than you are. Her warm praise means more to you though than your exhaustion as she lays you against her large chest and lets you rest there. Especially her heat will drain you as long as you are still human, her juices staining your chin and the hair of her cunt tickling your nose as she sits on your face, her eyes flashing magenta far more often than normally as you are enslaved by her and forced to pleasure her until the worst is over.

🟣​The taste of your blood is yet another bodily fluid of yours that she dines on. There are bite marks where her sharp canines cut through your skin and revealed the red, delicious liquid to her taste buds, the force of her bite always purposefully more painful to draw that painful groan from you. Your body is by the end always covered with purple lipstick and multiple bite marks all littering your body as if you were an empty canvas waiting to be filled with her love. Pleasure can quickly turn to sexual torture though if you were to displease Hannah. Brats need to be reprimanded and Hannah does so by some serious edging, getting beneath your layers of clothing multiple times a day only to leave you on the brink of an orgasm every time before returning to her duties until your underwear is soaked and your pussy clenches around the painful emptiness where her fingers or her tongue should be. Hannah can keep this up for days until you come crawling to her and promise that from now on you will behave yourself before she finally pushes you into sweet release.

[bone-evidence]

Here's the second of my PruCan Minifics, based off sentences (or prompts) given to me by you lovely folks! This one was from @disneyprincessdxminatrix, and it was: "No one's ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I'm around." I took that and ran to perhaps unexpected places lmao! Enjoy!

Quiet murmurs of anticipation all stopped the second the large wooden doors opened. The High Priest, dressed in fine white robes and the visage of a horrific horned Demon, led the sacrifice like a dog on a leash to the circular stone altar. 

Matthew was almost relieved. Almost. 

Though they'd bound his wrists in front of him with rough rope, they hadn't bothered to cover his eyes at all. No, they dragged him out of the animal pen in which they'd kept him for the last two months and paraded him around like a prized beast ripe for the slaughter. He supposed that a blindfold wasn't necessary. The dozens of people around him, all dressed in black robes, wore the same mask their leader did. There was no mercy to be found among the sea of cold eyes on him. 

The room was lit only by candles placed in the alcoves that lined the stone walls. These seemed to be shrines in the Demon's honour. Each one held a candle and a sculpture of the fiend carved out of deep red wood, decorated with the leaves of poisonous plants and various bones. Matthew tried very hard to push the question of where they'd gotten those bones out of his mind. If this was where he would die, he'd rather not think about those he was about to join.

The circular stone altar at the end of the room was his final destination. If he had any strength, he might have tried to wriggle out of the ropes and run. His captors were, unfortunately, smarter than to let that happen. He was only ever given enough food and water to keep him alive. At first, when they came into his pen bearing a knife, it took four of them to hold him down long enough to pierce his flesh and carve in the beginning of their profane symbols. It only took one to hold him down and finish the unholy scripture three days ago. 

Tears he didn't know he had left slipped down his cheek as he was finally forced to kneel on the stone altar. The carvings that were forever scarred in his flesh, up his freckled arms and down his back, were mirrored on the obsidian rim that surrounded him now. There was no need to tie him down to anything. Once he was on the ground, he knew there was no strength in him to get back up. All he could do was sob as the High Priest's hands raised to the sky, silencing the ghoulish crowd before them.  

The profane sermon had begun. 

Much to Matthew's horror, each praise that fell out of the Priest's mouth ignited a symbol on the altar. Each word in an infernal language he didn't understand , each dark promise, each retelling of horrible deeds inflicted upon humanity, all of these in turn ignited more of the circle around Matthew until it was almost completely lit. The sacrifice trembled and wailed for someone, anyone to save him, though he knew it was hopeless. 

If the Gods wanted to rescue him, they would have done it alrea- 

Ker-rack!

Halfway through what was surely the last words Matthew would ever hear, something dark and horrible crashed through the roof and landed in a heap on the stone floor.

The cultists around it backed away, whispering amongst themselves as they did so. This… thing, whatever it was, wasn't what they were expecting. The Demon was taller, right? Had horns? Wasn't it supposed to burst out of the sacrifice's body and be reborn in blood, not punch a hole into their sacred meeting place?

An unnatural wind, cold as the moonlight now cascading through the broken roof, whipped furiously around the thing as it stood. From thin air it conjured a sword made of no metal Matthew had ever seen. After all, what metal shimmered gold under lunar glow?

 At the thing's unspoken command, the wind rushed towards the alcoves on the walls. It stole the fire from each candle and knocked every small shrine down, sending bones and wood clattering to the ground. It carried the small flames, one by one, to the thing's outstretched blade until one couldn't see the metal through flame. 

It leveled the blade at the cultists, and Matthew wasn't sure whether he should be terrified or grateful. 

The men and women around it surely thought, since they were several dozen and it was only one, that they could take it. That mistake proved fatal. 

The being was obviously some kind of divine. No other force could cut through those bearing a Demon's protective amulets as though they were butter. Nothing else could splash stone walls with red and ignite the robes of the very recently deceased in one blow. Nothing else's wrath could be so swift and terrible! Matthew wasn't sure whether his screams joined the many cut off by horrific gurgling. All he knew was that once every last cultist was dead, after every soul in the room had been severed save for his own, it was alarmingly quiet. 

The thing stepped into the pool of moonlight made by it's entrance and paused to catch it's breath. Finally, Matthew got a good look at it. 

At him, rather. His feathered wings were cloth ripped from the fabric of night itself. His eyes, still wild from battle, were swirling red nebulas set into the bloodsplattered face of the moon. His steps were even and measured as he walked towards the sacrifice, blade held at his side. 

Matthew flinched and squeezed his eyes shut on instinct. The angel before him was fallen, after all; beholden to no God and no code, if he decided Matthew's life was forfeit too, his blade would find no resistance from demon-marked flesh.

Matthew expected the next (and last) thing he felt to be the bite of that sword. For his abused body to burn, for the fallen one to complete his task and leave no one alive to tell the tale of what happened here. What he didn't expect was a gentle hand under his chin, lifting it slightly and bidding him to open his eyes. 

He did so slowly, expecting to be greeted with the same battle craze and bloodlust. Instead, the clouds of the divine's eyes had cleared, leaving only dolorous pools of crimson to stare back at him. 

"What is your name?" The angel asked. Though it was clear he was trying to be gentle, there was still a commanding edge to his voice.  

"M-Matthew. Matthew, my name is Matthew, Mr. Angel. A-are you going to, um… I-I mean, am I going… to…?"

A breath resembling a chuckle left the divine's lips at the implication. His deft fingers began to work the knots that bound Matthew's wrists together loose, until the bloodstained rope finally fell to the cold stone altar. "You will not die tonight, Matthew. Can you stand?"

Truth be told, Matthew couldn't even find it in himself to try. His strength was gone. Starvation, dehydration, and countless tortures would have been enough of a reason, but something in his very soul had been drained and fed to the ritual. Perhaps something small in him had died along with everyone else in the room after all. All he could do was shake his head. 

This was, apparently, not going to be a problem for the angel. He scooped Matthew up easily, as if he were merely a child and not a man of twenty-three. A soft half-smile illuminated the fallen one's face as he walked towards the moonlight. 

"I can promise you this, Matthew." He began, as he stretched out his mighty wings. One flap, two flaps, and the room that was supposed to spell death was nothing more than a memory. 

"No one's ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I'm around."

[sonicasura]

Species Swap: Kafka Hibino

I mentioned earlier that species swap are something I haven't really delved with Kafka. (Not including asks for obvious reasons.) Thus here are some ideas that came to mind and will be explored on further in their own potential posts.

Agunimon

Yup, not a Digimon that is in the Angoramon Line or GranDracmon line. (Although Kafka as an eldritch vampire would be an interesting sight.) I figured why not choose a childhood favorite instead.

How Kafka gets into this situation is funnily simple: Cursed Armor. In Digimon Frontier, the Warrior and Beast Spirits resemble armor that need to be collected by the respective chosen. Thus why not twist such a detail to something more...malicious.

Kafka discovers the cursed armor while cleaning the ruins of a hoarder house. A bet from his fellow Sweepers to put the items on is how it happens. Now Kafka doesn't fully look like Agunimon but instead more like a fusion.

Black hair that haphazardly fades to gold, beastlike features such as a bear snout alongside pointy ears hidden under the helmet, his pudgy wrestler body type remains, paw pads, tufts of gold fur, horns, then finally a chubby red dragon tail.

Now Kafka can turn back to human but for at most 6 hours on a good day. Otherwise he's forced to look like a beast. The armor pretty much haunts his wardrobe as it will come back no matter what he does.

If Kafka doesn't wear it from time to time then he runs the risk of his curse condition getting worse. You can bet your ass that his kaiju powers aggravated it even further. Finding body wash for scales is more difficult than fur.

Ghost

Kafka fucking dies! He perishes at the age of 26 after saving someone amidst a kaiju attack. This heroic deed doesn't go unpunished as the man had enough regrets in life(than an obviously violent death) for his spirit to linger.

Now a Shadow type specter, Kafka spends his afterlife trying to protect others and eating kaiju souls. The latter altering his ghostly form into something similar to Snatcher from A Hat In Time. 25 ft long serpentine body with three talon "paw" like hands, fluffy almost velvet fur like texture hide, and a jack-o'-lantern smile that can become sinister in seconds.

The Defense Force classify him as 'The Shadow' from his shadowlike appearance. It isn't uncommon for officers to come across him during missions with many failing to capture or kill the ghost. The Science Department has been trying to uncover scientific ways to do so, not supernatural.

It took some experimentation before he could create a temporary human body to inhabit. (Kafka might've robbed his own grave.) He works at the Monster Sweepers partly cause kaiju corpses often come with "free snacks" in the form of Honju and Yoju. Although a certain mosquito kaiju definitely had a mighty extra kick Kafka wasn't ready to handle.

It somehow made his temporary body "alive" and made his ghostly form more monstrous. Kafka rather not get killed again much less by the Defense Force. A second death can put him down for good.

MAG

Considering how many times Kafka failed the Entrance Exams for the Defense Force, what are the chances someone would take advantage of this? Such as his fate in this specific route where a mysterious man's innocent offer holds insidious motives. Kafka finds himself kidnapped and experimented on using kaiju DNA.

He becomes a MAG through these unethical experiments. A type of huge supersoldier known for their heightened aggression, unmistaking power but also programmed to take orders from handlers(like Madness Combat). Luckily Kafka manages to escape before he could be programmed into an 'attack dog'.

His MAG form stands around 15'6 with dark grey scales covering his sides/arms/legs/facial cheeks, long stretched mouth full of sharp jagged teeth like his kaiju form, long claws, pale red spikes on back/shoulders, raptor like feet, long black scaly tail, slitted red eyes and white piercing horns. Kafka's fate is split between two possible routes.

One route is being found by the Monster Sweepers who look after their mutated coworker. The other leads to Mina whose investigating the massacre of the very shadow organization that turned Kafka into a monster and linked various disappearances involving flunked examinees. It isn't hard to recognize her old friend despite his monstrous new form.

A certain small Kaiju might make things more chaotic in the process. Kaiju No.8 gonna look scarier and more aggressive than just bigger that's for sure. Although it might help Kafka compress his MAG form better with something to help stabilize it. Wouldn't make him human again but at least he can walk in building without needing to duck as much.

What do you guys think? For those curious, this is Angoramon and GranDracmon.

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

William Rex Chapter 1

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From the back alleys dripping with rain, from the surface of the deep dark water from the steamy station.

I feel like someone or something is calling me....as if singing, with a graceful melody.

"Come here, Come here."

"Who killed you?"

Kate: "...!"

(Nightmare....?)

Outside the window was still the colour of the dark night. I seemed to have dozed off for just a few minutes.

(Yeah, that's right...I saw a murder scene and that's why I'm here in this castle....)

---FLASHBACK----

Victor: "Kate will live in this castle from now on and work with the members of the Crown."

Victor: "The Crown members can monitor her to make sure she doesn't divulge any secrets."

Victor: "In the meantime, I want Kate to write down how the members do their evil deeds like writing a fairy tale."

----FLASHBACK ENDS-----

(....I wish this was all a dream)

I lay down again on the soft pillow, but the vague anxiety and fear made me no longer sleepy.

Instead, my stomach rumbles.

(I can't believe I'm actually hungry under these circumstances....my body has a mind of its own.....)

At that moment----

Kate: "!?"

A subdued knock on my door had tension run through my entire body.

William: "Sorry to disturb you this late at night. Are you awake?"

(It's Master William...)

If tonight's assassination was due to his ability, as Master William said.

While Master William ordered that man to cut his neck with a knife....

He must have been playing the piano gracefully.

(No matter how much of it was the order of her Majesty the Queen, how could he play the piano while killing someone....)

(Maybe he's a terrifying psychopath)

At the very least, he is definitely 'the first person to watch out for' among the Crown members.

(Keep knocking, I won't open the door!)

I pretended to sleep like this, but my stomach rumbles again.

Even. Louder. Than. Before.

(What timing....)

William: ".....Unless you're hungry and looking for fellowship, how about a little something to eat?"

William: "You have the right to be vigilant, but we don't want anyone to starve to death in this castle."

(Mm.....)

It was a sweet voice, so gentle that can soothe a child.

As if sucked in, I reached for the doorknob.

(He is a gentleman and said he wouldn't use his abilities rashly...)

(And I can't stay cooped up in my room...forever)

I connect a few reasons and open the door abruptly.

I see Master William standing outside, smiling at me as if he knew I would open the door.

William: "Come, my lady."

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William: "After such a shocking event, it's been this late at night. Don't force yourself. Eat as much as you like."

Master William pulls out a chair for me and I sit down as he urges me to do so.

He sat down in a chair a short distance away from the table.

(Um?)

The meal looked like it was prepared for only one person no matter how you look at it. On the other hand, Master William was holding a glass of wine.

Kate: "Um...What about you....?"

William: "Hm? I actually had a light snack before the mission."

William: "Don't mind me, go ahead and enjoy."

(I wonder if he prepared it just for me and went out of his way to call me....)

Gratitude wells up and I feel relaxed in front of the warm and delicious meal.

(No, I have to be vigilant)

Pulling myself back to reason, I turned to the food. Immediately I noticed something and froze.

William: "Is there anything not to your liking?"

Kate: "No, it's just...I don't know...how to...how to eat.."

William: "......"

In the first place, I know nothing about the etiquette of dining in such a castle, on top of that in front of a nobleman.

William: "You can eat however you like. The only rule here is that people must be comfortable doing things in their own way."

(Really....)

-----Options-----

(Then I can be as rude as possible)

(If I'm rude)

(I'm hungry, so let's not think about anything)

----------

(What if I act rude unintentionally...)

William: "Don't worry. I won't blame you for being rude."

William: "....You're so tolerant of outlaws, but you're so hard on yourself."

Kate: "Outlaws....?"

William: "Victor told me that you defended a thief, who got away with his crime and had to pay for the stolen goods."

(Ah....)

----FLASHBACK-----

Man: "She stole something very expensive from me! Of course, you're going to pay me for that, right?"

Kate: "Yes, I'll pay you!"

----FLASHBACK ENDS----

(He was there at the time...!)

Kate: "T-That was actually, on the spur of the moment I...."

Feeling embarrassed, I averted my gaze.

(After all, it was a stopgap measure, and it didn't change anything in that kid's circumstances)

I just stepped in without thinking about the aftermath and felt helpless.

As if to shake off my pettiness, I boldly reached for a muffin.

William: "Um...Thank you for the food!"

William: "Mmhm. Go on."

Hesitantly, I take a bite out while still holding it in my hand.

This midnight snack is a little guilty, yet enthrallingly delicious.

(I shouldn't let my guard down....but the smell of this butter, sugar, and the scent of this tea....)

My anxiety and fear slowly melt away.

I glanced around to see that Master William was playing with an envelope in his hand while sipping wine from time to time.

Even with his downcast eyelashes and silver hair hiding his striking red eyes, his beauty is still alluring that I can't help but admire.

One can see the blood-red fingernails tracing the wax sealing imprinted with a golden butterfly.

The hand that was extended to me, in that mansion, came back to my mind.

----FLASHBACK-----

William: "I invite you to dinner tonight. Young lady, what is your name?"

Kate: "Kate...It's Kate."

In a shaky voice, I managed to answer.

But the moment I saw the blood-red fingertips, I was crucified to the spot.

Kate: "Um...Mm...? I....I'm sorry....."

I can't take his hand. On contrary, I can't even move.

My body was rejecting a future....that might kill reality.

Kate: "I'll stand...I'll stand now..."

William: "....."

Master William crouched down with a smile on his face.

William: "Pardon me."

He gently picked me up in his arms.

Kate: "!?"

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When he lightly picked me up in his arms, Master William politely apologized.

William: "Forgive me for being selfish. I'll apologize for this rudeness later."

----FLASHBACK ENDS----

(....Master William said, he would apologize to me later)

(Which means, perhaps, he wanted to keep me alive from the very beginning....?)

(Why....)

Madness and gentleness conflicting impressions are tangled and confusing.

(I don't know who this person is)

I'm sure the reason I'm so confused is that I still....don't know anything about him!

(Actually, it's better if I didn't know)

(I don't 'feel' like I should know)

Yet....

Kate: "Um...Who was that man.....you killed?"

William: ".....Hm?"

The question slipped out of my mouth.

William: "Oh that....just a pest that infests England, violating our freedom and dignity, exploiting our sweet nectar."

Kate: "The piano....who was playing that? Did you make him commit suicide....instead of .....just killing him?"

(Why am I asking this.....)

I ask questions without knowing whether they are to fill in the blanks of my anxiety or not.

William: "Once I have decided to kill someone as 'evil', I kill them as brutally as possible because that's my principle."

William: "Otherwise, there's no point in me carrying out my evil."

Kate: "Why does it have to be cruel to make sense....?"

William: "......"

Master William looked at me as I continued to ask in confusion.

He smiled a cruel smile, in a very amusing way.

William: "The thing most feared by those who want wealth and power and who trample on the freedom of others with impunity...."

William: "What is it?"

Kate: "Huh....."

My question is answered with a question and I couldn't help but mumble.

When my mind could not catch up with the riddle-like words, Master William rested his elbow on the armrest and smiled at me gently.

William: "If everything could be explained in words and understood, wouldn't life be empty?"

William: "If you're interested in me, you can see it with your eyes...your ears, and your skin."

William: "Isn't it better to have a lot of fun to unravel?"

William: "Oh yeah.."

As if suddenly remembering, Master William pulled something out of his pocket.

(A knife?)

 ｡⋆｡˚🦋˚｡⋆｡

(A knife?)

An ornate golden knife glints bewitchingly in the moonlight in his hand.

Fear shook my whole body as I recalled the tragedy that had occurred just a few moments earlier.

Kate: "Ah.....I....."

(I don't know what I did to offend you....?)

William: "I'm not going to suddenly thrust this knife to your neck."

William: "....I have as much or even more power than this knife."

William: "As I told you, it's a special power that can kill you in the blink of an eye."

Kate: "......Mm. Yes...."

William: "The same goes for the rest of us. And yet, you, who have to live with us, have nothing."

William: "It's not right that you're the only one whose life is being unfairly threatened. Right?"

Kate: "Is it....yes...?"

I couldn't believe my ears when I heard these unexpected words.

William: "Yes. I want to talk to you as much as possible as equals, poor robin."

William: "So while you write down my sins as the Fairy tale master...."

William: "If you want to judge me for my sins, you can stab me with this knife."

William: "I accept your absolution with open arms."

William: "Will you take it?"

My heart thudded with alarm at the obviously dangerous invitation.

(What in the world are you talking about....?)

(You are asking me....to stab a person with this....?)

(No...I can't do that)

I should not mingle in a world that points knives at people, no matter who they are.

I know, but somehow my fingertips are drawn to the golden knife.

William: "Here you go."

Kate: "Ah...."

My fingers brushed his fingertips, just for a moment, as I picked the cold metal from his hands.

I can't look away even though I know I should.

My body moves on its own and reason cannot catch up with it.

He has some kind of strange magnetic force.

The cold knife was somehow in my palm, reflecting the moonlight dully.

Kate: ".....D-Did you use your ability just now?"

When I asked him, staring at the knife in amazement, Master William smiled gently.

William: "No? My ability is not activated unless I 'look you in the face' and 'command you to do so."

William: "The words 'Will you take it' was not a command, but a suggestion."

(Then I did it of my own free will....?)

Suddenly, I felt horrible.

(I shouldn't be exchanging glances and listening to him....like this)

(I might go crazy....)

Kate: "Anyways, I'm done. Please excuse me....!"

I hurriedly got up from my seat and left the place as if to escape.

I have to go back to my normal life without having to use this knife for the next month. For that purpose----

William: "....Goodnight, sweet little robin. See you tomorrow."

I refused to take the advantage of his temptation.

.........

William: "Did you come up with any better moves?"

When William steps into his room, Victor, who was staring at the chessboard, looks up.

Victor: "No, not at all."

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William: "The mansion we went to tonight---it was a hit."

William held out the envelope he had been inspecting in the dining room to Victor.

The butterfly mark engraved on the wax sealing glimmers in the candlelight.

William: "If this is proof that the Golden Butterfly is back, Vic, I'm willing to let you take the lead on this one."

Victor: "Yeah....no problem."

Victor: "We've done our homework on this one. Kate is totally clean."

Victor: "She has nothing to do with the police, the Capitol or even the 'butterfly."

Victor: "She was just an unlucky girl to be there."

William: "Unlucky huh? No way. She came there for a reason."

Victor: "Is that your insightful inference?"

William: "Mmhm."

Victor: "Then there is no doubt...Maybe we might need a birdcage,"

William: "No thanks. I like the sounds of birds singing and flying around happily...."

William: "....Unfortunately, I don't have a hobby to keep them locked up."

........

Victor: "Nice to see you today, Miss Kate!"

Kate: "....Yes. Thank you for having me."

The next morning, Victor called me. I straightened my back, holding a notebook I had used as a postman.

(At the end of the night, I was able to sort out my feelings a little bit)

(About last night....now that I think about it, I received a self-defense weapon, that's all)

(My body felt like it was moving on its own...I'm sure it was just fear that made me feel that way)

(I have to do my duty as a 'Fairy tale master' in order to gain their trust)

Victor: "I'm going to explain the details about the mission of 'Fairy tale master' to you, so listen carefully."

Kate: "I'm all ears!"

(Maybe there is a room in this castle that I'm not allowed to go in, or I can't meet outsiders)

(As someone who will be monitored, I'm sure there are plenty of rules....)

Victor: "Basically, you can do whatever you like."

Kate: "Huh?"

Victor: "Hm? What's wrong?"

Kate: "Wait no....are you actually serious?"

Victor: "Yes, I am. Oh, but you must always be accompanied by someone from the Crown when you leave the castle."

Victor: "The report to her Majesty is basically a report of your observation."

Kate: "Okay, so is there any specific format I should be following?"

Victor: "As long as you write down exactly how it looks like in your eyes, then that's all you need to know."

(That's all...?)

(But I'm so free, I don't know what to write about)

Victor: "....Once you start spending time with them, I'm sure you will have something to write about."

Victor smiled at me as if to reassure me of my confusion.

Victor: "But the Crown members are also basically acting alone."

Victor: "Some of them work front and some of them work behind the scenes."

Victor: "It's difficult to observe everyone, so let's choose people to work with!"

(To work together with some one....)

What happened last night, runs through my head like flashes, once again.

(If I have to work with that person....24/7)

(I wonder what's going to happen?)

Every time I think of those red eyes, the inside of my chest trembles violently.

It's as if something is raging inside my body.

(Maybe it would be better to have someone other than Master William to work with)

Kate: "Um...."

Before I opened my mouth, Victor clapped his hands with a plop.

Victor: "I think William would be a good choice. He's just about to start his assignment, and he would be a great choice for your starting report."

(EH?!)

Victor: "The No. 1 of the Crown, the evilest king ever remembered by her Majesty the Queen."

Kate: "B-But..."

I hear the sound of footsteps and then...

Victor: "Oh what perfect timing. He's already here."

William: "....Hm?"

Do not be tempted by him.

Because I have a feeling I won't be able to go back.

Chapter 2

[eating-plastic]

Out of the Rain: Willy x fem!reader SMUT

Warnings: NSFW, smut (MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI), age gap (older man-younger woman. Reader is +18! Get outta here, creeps!), AFAB!reader, p in v sex, unprotected sex (remember to use protection irl people!), creampie, rough sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, light bondage (you know this man would be good at tying knots😏) , dom!Willy, sub!reader, swearing, secret relationship, sweet!Willy before and after the deed, probably some grammatical errors

Word Count: 2344 words

A/N: Who wants some smut? I certainly do! Welcome to my second nsfw fic with a new old man. I've been a bit of a lurker in the Stardew Valley fandom for a while now, and it's a shame that the game has such handsome older men that you can't romance. Oh, well. That's what fanfiction is for! To anyone that feels the same way as me, this is for you. Enjoy!

--------------------

Weather just loved to take you by surprise. Whenever it looked like rain, it would suddenly become bright and sunny as you left the farm with your umbrella and raincoat. Whenever it was sunny, you would be forced to dunk into buildings or run back home in your soaked clothes. It seems like mother nature just loves to make you feel ridiculous.

Today was no different. You decided to head to the beach for a bit of fishing in a pretty, teal sundress and hat. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and you were looking for a good excuse to get lost in your thoughts, as fishing often provided you. You usually reflected on plans you had, but your mind kept on drifting to the Flower Festival that was coming up next week. You were planning something a bit big with a certain someone after you and him had a small discussion about it.

The idea made you giddy and nervous at the same time. You typically never cared about what people thought, but now you were in a town with what you perceived as a smaller number of people that wouldn't be so judgmental about your relationships. Then again, life was too short to keep things like that secret.

Just your luck though, as soon as you had found your spot and were about to cast your line, you felt a raindrop on your nose.

'Oh no,' you look up at the sky and sigh at the sight of dark storm clouds. 'Of course. Yoba, why?'

Fortunately, you had a saving grace not too far away and it was just sprinkling, now. You just had to get there before he left for the saloon.

--------------------

The clock struck 5, and Willy had finished tidying up his shop a bit. His back was turned away from the door to look for his umbrella, as the rain was now coming down hard. He didn't turn his back even as he heard the door open.

"Sorry, shop's closed up. You'll have to trek back here, tomorrow," he said nonchalantly.

"Uh, Willy?"

At the sound of your voice, a smile forms on his face and he turns around to greet you, only for his face to drop when he sees you.

"Yoba, lass! You look like you washed up on shore!"

You were entirely soaked, with your sundress clinging to you like a second skin, your shoes being flooded, and your hat having been blown away in the wind, causing your face and hair to lose what little protection it could have provided.

Willy quickly made his way over to you, wrapping his rough hands around your arms and rubbing them to try and warm you up.

"You're shaking like a leaf, love. What were you doing out in a storm like that?"

"I didn't know," you say in-between your shivering. "Can you walk me back to my farm?"

"That's too far, dear. You're better off staying over at my place before you get a cold," he takes your hands into his own and raises them to his mouth to blow warm air onto them. "Here, let me go get my umbrella, and we'll get you dry in no time."

He moves back to where he was searching, and you instantly miss his presence. Willy was like a natural heater, which your shaking figure needed. You tried to replicate his actions to keep warm, but they didn't really help much.

"Aha! There you are," he presents his umbrella and quickly moves back to your side. "Alright, love. Let's get you warmed up."

--------------------

You sat close to the fireplace within Willy's humble abode, while he went to fetch you a towel and one of his shirts. When he returns to you, he lets out a sympathetic huff. He kneels down beside you and wraps you up in a dark green towel he had snatched from his bathroom.

"There you go, lass. Just take it easy, now," he presses a kiss to your temple, which you hum at. "Got a dry shirt for you by the sofa. Change into it when you feel ready, okay?"

You nod and lean into the old fisherman, which causes him to let out a chuckle of endearment.

"Now, then. Why don't we get you something warm to drink, hm?" he stands up to head into his kitchen. You continue to stare at the hypnotic dance of the flames before you. Mother nature once again made a fool out of you, and now you were feeling guilty that you were currently keeping your older boyfriend from the saloon.

"Here you go, dear. A nice cup of tea to warm your pretty, lil' self up," Willy hands you a mug, before sitting down beside you with a glass of whiskey in his other.

"You're drinking before heading to the saloon?" you ask.

"Not heading to the saloon, tonight," he wraps one of his arms around you to pull you closer. "Gotta take care of my girl, don't I?"

"But weren't you planning on hanging out with Elliot this week?"

"It's just one day, lass. He'll understand," that makes you confused.

"Does...does he know about us?"

"He's smart. I think he suspects something," this causes you to tense up, but Willy squeezes your shoulder reassuringly. "There is nothing to worry about, love. Elliot's a nice lad, not one to make nasty comments about things like this."

You hoped he was right. You and him knew your relationship was a bit unconventional even when it was platonic, so you agreed to keep it under wraps. Of course, the more you keep quiet about something, the more you wished you didn't. That's why you both came to the agreement that you would make your relationship public at the Flower Festival, promising to try to not let any scrutiny from your fellow villagers get under your skin.

"I hope you're right," you snuggle into Willy's neck.

"Everyone's gonna know eventually," a smirk forms on his face. "It's gonna be nice finally introducing you as my beautiful, little skipper."

You squeal as he begins to pepper your neck in kisses, giggling as his beard tickles your soft skin. Before he pulls away, you feel a tinge of a familiar warmth form in your stomach, beginning to crave a different kind of heat. Still, you try to push those thoughts aside and continue to enjoy the sweet cuddling, occasional kisses to your cheek or temple, and your beverage.

When Willy gets up to take your mug and refill his glass however, those thoughts come back, and you realize just how uncomfortable your wet dress is. So you stand up, letting the towel fall from your shoulders, and push the straps of your dress down.

The soak fabric pools around your ankles leaving you in just your damp panties.

Willy almost drops his second glass of whiskey when he returns to you. He quickly composes himself though, and smirks while watching how the golden glow of the fire illuminates you.

"And here I thought you were freezing," he jests and makes his way towards you.

"I am. I just want to warm up in a different way," you explain. "Besides, my dress was getting uncomfortable."

Willy sits down on the sofa behind you, slowly sipping his glass and not taking his eyes off you. He then sets the glass down on a side table before uttering a command to you.

"Come here, love."

You turn and straddle his waist, quickly being met with something hard under your ass. It amazed you how quickly Willy could get worked up, especially at his age, but you weren't going to complain. As soon as you're comfortable, he grabs the back of your head and roughly smashes your lips into his.

He wasn't always a rough man during sex, most notably when you both first started, but ever since he made his rougher side known, you've found yourself craving it more. You moan at the feeling of his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and his calloused hands explores your body, grabbing and groping whatever he wants. As his lips move from your own to your neck, you start grinding yourself against him. He groans at the feeling, before threading his thick fingers into your hair and yanking your head back to look at him.

"Stay here, love. I'm gonna go grab something," Willy's voice is low and he pats your rear to get you to move off of him. You sit on the sofa and let out a huff of frustration while he disappears to find what he was looking for. You hate the lack of friction in-between your legs, and rub your thighs together in a feeble attempt to relieve it.

When the older man returns, the sight of him makes you whine. His hat was gone and his dark gray hair looked messy, as if he was rubbing his hands through it. His shirt was also gone, revealing a torso covered in small scars, salt and pepper hair that dusted his chest, and a soft stomach. What really thrills you though, is when your eyes fall upon the short rope in his right hand. He slowly approaches to sit beside you, like a predator cornering his prey.

"Wrists together, lass," he asserts in a low voice. You do what you are told. With your wrists bound, Willy pushes you down onto the couch and wastes no time to pull your wet panties from your body.

"My girl wants to get warmed up, huh?" he pushes your arms above your head, before landing his hands under your thighs. "I'll warm her up, alright."

Your legs are spread apart and Willy lowers his head to place a kiss to your lower lips, slick with your arousal. You gasp and squirm underneath him, trying to undo the binds on your wrists. He chuckles at this, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure, before dragging his tongue from your dripping entrance to your clit. His actions are slow, almost torturing, which causes you to whine and try to grind yourself against his face.

His hands move from your thighs to your hips, holding them steady and pausing your feeble attempts at trying to get off.

"Aw, what's the matter, love? Am I not warming you up enough?" Willy chuckles darkly at your desperate face. You shake your nod and whimper.

"No, I'm not? Well then...let's see if this works," his lips find your clit and harshly suck on the sensitive bud, causing you to moan loudly. He then moves one of his hands from your waist to your pussy, shoving two of his thick fingers inside of you.

You cry out at the feeling of being stretched out, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. You continue to squirm, desperately wanting to grab something as a brace, but being unable to because of your bound wrists.

Willy continues to suck on your clit and scissor his fingers within you, even after you warned him that you were going to cum. He wanted you to make a mess on his mouth and digits. Your moans become screams as your orgasm grew closer and closer, until you couldn't hold back anymore.

The old fisherman in-between your legs eagerly laps up your juices, wetting his beard without a care in the world. He only stops once you beg him to, wanting your sensitive pussy to get a break. Of course, that break only lasts a couple of seconds.

The next thing you know, Willy flips your body over so you are now laying on your stomach. He impatiently undoes his belt and yanks down his pants and boxers, causing his thick cock to spring free. Your hips are then in his grasp, quickly lining your wet hole up with the tip, and pushing himself all the way inside of you.

You sob out at being so harshly filled and stretched out. You love the stinging sensation, and you only love it more as Willy roughly fucks his dick in and out of you. The pain and pleasure melt together in a way that makes you feel intoxicated, and you can’t help but thank mother nature for chasing into the older man’s arms, home, and onto his length.

"Yeah? You like that. love? Huh? Fuck!," Willy groans out, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

"Ye-ah! Yes! Yes! I-I do...I'm-hah!" you try to announce your imminent release, but the feeling of rough fingertips against your clit causes your sentence to fall apart.

"You wanna cum, lass? Go ahead. Cum all over my cock," Willy lets out through gnashed teeth.

At that, you cum hard on his dick. The feeling of your pussy squeezing his length causes the older man to follow suit, flooding your cunt with his seed. He then falls onto his forearms in exhaustion, but still trying not to crush you.

The only sounds heard within the home now, was the crackling of the fire and rain hitting the roof. Once Willy gains his breath, he pulls out of you, undoes the rope around your wrists, and moves so he is laying on the sofa and you're laying on top of him. One of his hands rubs circles into your back, while the other holds one of your wrists so he can gently rub and kiss the welts left by your bonds.

"Well, love, did that warm you up?" a tired laugh is pulled from you, and a kiss is placed onto the older man's lips.

"Yeah, I'd say it did more than enough," you smile. He smiles back, until he notices that the rain outside had started to slow.

"You staying over for the night?"

"Of course," you nuzzle your face into Willy's neck, getting comfortable. "Besides, I don't think I'll be walking until tomorrow anyways."

"Fair enough," he says after chuckling. He then tightens his hold on you, and places a kiss on your head.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, Willy."

[the-lost-writer]

Redemption Dark AU

This is my first ever AU for AB so sorry if it isn’t the best.

Blurb

Stuck in a white box purgatory after his defeat by TSC, Dark sulks. He is the greatest, strongest, and most intelligent stick in the entire universe! And he is stuck here in this… well he isn’t quite sure where but he knows it cannot contain him forever, it’s just taking longer for him to escape without his powers.

One day (if you can even call it day) a glowing orb comes to him with an offer, an offer to get him out on one condition. Dark gladly takes the offer since he will be able to outsmart this being. After all, he is the most intelligent stick in the universe.

A Deal

Dark is laying on the floor, his breath ragged from excursion. Once again he tried punching out of this infernal white prison, and once again he didn’t leave a mark.

How could he, the great, all powerful, and handsome Dark Lord be contained by such a pathetic white wall?! It was utterly infuriating, not to mention humiliating.

He used to break every obstacle, ever barrier, every stick, that dared to get in the way of his complete domination with his buddy, The Chosen One. *But nooo, apparently doing that wasn’t fun anymore. TCO became my obstacle, and he forced me to fight him! The gal! I was totally winning too before that orange idiot kid…*

Dark shivers. He doesn’t like remembering the pain of that moment. He refocuses his anger on the wall, using it to muster the strength to stand up. He has to get out, he has to… to… what? What would he do? Everything is destroyed, he would have to start from scratch. It would take years. He doesn’t even have his powers anymore.

That reminder makes him incensed. His powers, his glorious powers, all gone. The rage starts boiling, and he lets it out.

“SOMEONE LET ME OUT OF THIS PLACE!!!” He roars into the void furiously.

“I can get you out!” A voice, annoyingly cheerful, squeaks.

Dark spins around with a punch but his fist only met the wall. His hand flairs up with pain yet he still looks for the voice.

It giggles behind him and he turns, growling “who goes there?”

“Well you can think of me a god” the flutey voice says from in front of him, emanating from a small orb of light.

“And you can get me out?” Dark asks suspiciously. If what it says is true then it’s worth a shot.

“Yep-a-doodle!” The voice says. The phrase makes Dark nauseous, it’s so cutesy it’s physically disgusting.

“Alright, then get me out” he demands, putting on his scary voice.

“I am The Dark Lord, conqueror of the inner and outernet, destroyer of family’s and cities. Unless you want a grizzly fate to befall you I suggest you release me immediately” he announces.

The orb laughs uproariously at this. “You and what powers? Yes Darkie,” if there was anything in his stomach he would have thrown up, “I know you lost your powers, but even then, I am a god. I cannot be killed. But I can let you out on one teeny-tiny condition.”

“What is it?”

“You can’t do anything bad or evil.”

Not being evil? At all? Well that’s just not possible, but no matter, being free is being free.

“That’s it?” Dark fully has no intention of complying to these rules. He can easilyoutwit this puny god.

“Yes, you have to be good or else you will be sent back here until you apologize. And to sweeten the deal when you go out of your way to do a good deed I’ll give you powers-“

“Deal.” Dark interrupts the god. This will be easy, he just has to preform some charitable act (yuck) or something along those lines and then he can kill this god with his regained powers.

“Alright then, let’s go!”

Dark steps forward to shake the orbs “hand” but suddenly feels really dizzy. The world around him tilts and starts to fade. He is out before his head touches the ground.

Thank you for reading! If anyone is interested please leave it in the notes and I might continue!

Edit: I have continued it! Tysm for all the support. The next part is here:

Next Part

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 22 — Morning glory

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: Angst, smut, noncon, dirty talk, somnophilia, forced orgasm, fingering, creampie, cockwarming

— WORDCOUNT: 2k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian hardly slept, waking every couple of hours with a sense that someone was trying to break in — before realising it was just the wind. The bed felt different too, and yet all too familiar at the same time… He remembered now why he didn’t wish to go there, and memories of his lost childhood haunted him every moment he was awake. Every sleeping moment too, it seemed…

He winced as he turned over, lumps sticking in his sides, and tried to stretch his legs but only ended up kicking the crumbly wooden footboard. Sebastian cursed beneath his breath and frowned, then curled his knees up. That’s when he felt her.

It immediately put a smile on his face to know her there, her weight dipping the mattress slightly, the scent of her hair tickling his nose, her figure a shadow in the moonlight… The house had a different quality with her present, he realised. It broke apart from what it was and became something that… could be. All the bad memories, the loss of Anne and of his family, all of that was firmly in the past when he remembered she was there.

He slid his arm around her waist and held her like a lifeline, pulling himself slightly forward. As a child, he never would have thought he’d end up sleeping in his uncle’s bed with a lady he’d absconded with, but a part of him wasn’t surprised. Somehow, his destiny seemed marked from the start by dark deeds and temptations — although he’d gone further in his life than he’d once thought possible. Well, too late to turn back now. Sebastian let his body sink into the bed and breathed deeply — in, and out. He focused on the night sounds coming from outside, the hollow billowing of the wind and the distant cry of owls, and tried to fall asleep again.

But however long he held his eyes closed, and however much he tried to relax, sleep wouldn’t come. His eyes opened to the dark and his hand tightened around the waist of his companion. He sighed and buried his face into the back of her neck to breathe her in again. She was so sweet…

Of its own will, his body slid closer to hers, one leg wrapping around her own beneath the covers. Just feeling her in his arms, her gentle shape against the front of him, made him even more terribly awake than before… He wanted her, and now that they were on the run from the Aurors everything had taken on a sense of urgency.

Would she leave him if they were caught? Who was he kidding… Of course she would. And yet Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to resent her for it. However dear she was to him, he’d never been good at showing it. Even when she was toying with him, he’d resisted giving in, and now he blamed her for it.

“A pair of fools,” he muttered, pressing his lips against her neck.

The hand that lay between them on the bed turned to caress her, feeling up her thigh through her nightgown, then slowly pulled the garment higher. Sebastian moved lightly as he felt around her body, eyes closing once more, but this time in delight. She was so warm and soft in her sleep, and he loved exploring her like this, free to feel as he liked without her complaining, or fighting him off, or cursing at him… He could worship her at his leisure.

Slowly, his lips travelled down the column of her throat to her naked shoulder, staying just on the surface so that she wouldn’t wake, while below his hand dragged her nightgown up and up over her legs until he caught its hem and eased it over the curve of her hip. Sebastian moaned when his fingers touched her naked flesh, so smooth and still and welcoming… Above, his hand went from her waist up to her chest. He pulled down the covers so that he could cup her breast and held it in his hand while he trailed his index through the split between her thighs. Moving very gently, Sebastian caressed higher, higher, until his fingers met her mound.

He sighed quietly at the feeling of her intimate spot so warm and plush, and already a little wet… Sebastian smiled against her shoulder and traced the length of her slit, stopping at her nub to circle it, rub her own wetness into it, before going down searching for her entrance.

He took his hand away from her breast to push his trousers down and gripped himself, holding his fast-hardening length while he caressed her. She winced in her sleep and moved ever so slightly, leaning a bit forward with her hands folded to her chest. Her hips tilted slightly, opening her up to him. In the quiet, if he focused, he could hear her slick while he played with her.

Sebastian’s body shivered with pleasure, a luxurious mix he almost couldn’t believe he had… She was soft and pliant beside him, sleeping peacefully, and yet her body responded to him in its sweet and gentle way free to accept what he gave it. He moved carefully, not wanting to break this spell of perfection between them.

One warm hand went up to her hip, holding her still for his taking, and with the other he brought his member right between her legs and slotted his tip against her. Sebastian had to swallow a groan… He could feel so much more now than when she struggled. Could feel how soft and tender her flesh was, how wet her hole was weeping, the tickle of her tuft of hair against his too-sensitive head, and the folds as they were throbbing… He pecked the back of her neck with a few light kisses, wishing so desperately that he could kiss her more, could kiss her fully, show his love for her in every way.

“Easy there, my love,” he mouthed against her ear, barely breathing a sound. “You won’t feel a thing…”

He slotted his tip against her hole and pressed it there. His fingers stroked her folds and he canted his hips slightly, easing himself inside her body one gentle press at a time. He entered her so slowly he almost didn’t notice when he’d done it, but he could feel more keenly than ever before how her warmth enveloped him, how her juices dripped along his shaft, and how her channel opened.

He groaned. It was like sinking into butter, like piercing her flesh with a knife only there was no agony, no pain, no blood spilt… Only pleasure. A sigh shivered through his throat when he felt her swallow his whole tip, and for a moment he rested there. The hand that held her hip slid lower, encircling her waist, and he slotted himself to her from behind.

His thighs tensing, Sebastian pressed himself a little deeper, just applying the gentlest bit of a push and letting her channel, which now flexed and throbbed around him, swallow him like a hungry little mouth.

She whimpered and twisted in his arms as if crying from a bad dream. He shushed her and brushed his thumb over her stomach.

“There there, you’re alright,” he whispered, “nothing’s hurting you… I have you, you’re safe.”

She huffed and moved her hips, clearly displeased somehow, and it made Sebastian chuckle. He stopped moving and let her body adjust, difficult as it was for him to sit still. She was soaking him, her lips throbbing all around him, and her body was a furnace the deeper in he went. Lazily, he let his head rest just behind hers on the pillow and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

Something about his length plugging her up disturbed her, because after a few minutes she moved, casting herself first forward, then back.

“Trying to make yourself comfortable, my dear?” he mouthed against her skin, finishing it with a little kiss. He moved his hips slightly, managing to work himself a little deeper, and through her sleep she gasped. “Is that better, hmm?” he asked.

His knees were slotted just behind hers, his hips affixed to hers, skin sticking to skin in their mixed sweat, and with each throb, she pulled him deeper.

She was groaning louder now, her waist twisting in his grasp. Sebastian sat still, half-hoping for her to fall back into the deepest sleep, half for her to wake.

She did the latter.

“Mmh wh—”

His arm instinctively wrapped itself more firmly around her middle and the other cupped her rear, parting her a little more for him.

“What are you —”

“Ssshhh, easy, it’s only me.”

“Sebastian!”

“Does it hurt you?”

As her senses came to her and she realised what he was doing, she buried her face into the pillow and tried to pull away, but he was holding her too tightly. He quickly pulled her back and then pushed all the way inside. His groan got buried in her hair.

“So good,” he rambled, “body’s so soft when you’re asleep…”

“Stop that,” she muttered, and he could feel her tense.

“Almost done,” he whispered, “almost…”

His hot palm held her by the hip as he began to thrust, pushing himself all the way up to her end until he could feel his sac get soaked with her, then letting his hips ease back on their own, and on and on until his legs grew tired. He could feel her knees curl up as she tried to pull away, but it did little to stop him. His body chased hers, manhood holding her open and pleasuring itself with her tight hole.

“My sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, dazed with tiredness and pleasure, “my favourite girl…”

Her fists clenched in the pillow. Sebastian’s breath grew wetter at the warm back of her neck, and he could feel her tightening around him. The hand that held her backside caressed her lower, sliding to her thigh, while the other trailed the path that led down to her mound and searched between her tightened thighs until he found her nub.

“S-stop,” she whispered, unconvincingly.

“Let me give you something that you like, my love,” he grinned, placing the promise with a kiss against her ear.

He slipped a finger between her folds and flicked the pudgy nub until she shuddered, his thrusts swaying her on the bed in quicker and more frantic cantings. She tried to quiet herself, but he could her hear breathing shudder, could feel her hole drip greedily around him as he forced an orgasm out of her.

“There’s my love,” he praised her. “Good, was it? Shhh, a bit more…”

She didn’t make another sound, and in fact seemed to have stopped breathing, but he could feel her heart beat frantically against his own as he held her to his chest. He kept flicking her, index slipping wetly on her nub, and pressed his manhood all the way up to the root.

The skin of his hips stuck to her, barely pulling away before he thrust back in, and soon a heat was licking up and down his thighs, his legs, his stomach, and he groaned.

He stopped as deep inside her as he could reach and held there, moaning in her ear as he released. His fingers stilled at her hard little button and his thighs were fixed to hers, sac churning once, twice, four times in the end to fill her with his seed.

“So good,” he whispered, “always feel so good when… when I…”

“I know,” she breathed out, her body limp and loose now that he was done with her.

His grasp tightened around her and he pressed a little deeper still, pushing his release inside her and keeping her plugged up with him. Her flesh and his throbbed harmoniously in pleasure. Slowly, Sebastian slid a leg between her own, covering more of her body as he held her tightly to his front and covered her neck with kisses.

“I love you,” he said against her skin.

“I know…”

[beevean]

Do any of the Curse of Darkness adaptations say that Dracula deliberately pitted Hector against Isaac?

It just occurred to me that it would make sense for Dracula to do that (after all, one Devil Forgemaster is easier to deal with than two working in tandem, should one of them turn against him). But I haven’t read any of the CoD adaptations, so I don’t know if any of them used that idea. It would be chilling if any of them explored that.

Actually no!

Personally I'm not too sure that deliberately pitting them against each other would be more convenient to Dracula than having them be coordinated: imagine conducting a war, and having to rely on two bickering teenagers :P But in canon it's a moot point, because it's implied that Dracula simply praised Hector as the more talented one.

PtR gives us this:

"Good for you that you can judge our Lord’s deeds… It’s not bad for my position. But I will not tolerate any disservice and betrayal towards Him."

"Take a look at this pathetic sight, my Lord, my broken sword used as a cane. My body is the proof of your expectations for him. Please ridicule me, scold me: next time, I will do whatever it takes."

(for context, Hector defeated Isaac by slashing his legs, and he didn't even have the courtesy of finishing him off, forcing him to deal with the consequences)

The second line pretty much sums up how Dracula saw his two Devil Forgemasters. Isaac knows, or at the very least believes, that Dracula would have expected Hector to win because he's the stronger one, and the proof is in how he utterly humiliated Isaac.

Speaking of Dracula:

“What did he wish from me, that he even rebelled…? Unforgiveness is my nature. The more precious things are, the more they resist and are lost…”

Another translation of that line is "So is one dear, so is one wrested away".

Dracula considers Hector precious. My first interpretation is that he's also thinking about Alucard, who opposed his father roughly at the same time... But make of this what you will.

The MF manga focuses a lot more on Isaac's insecurity of not being as good as Hector, but again, we don't really see much of how the two were treated.

Something to note is that while it was Isaac who warned Dracula that Trevor Belmont was becoming a concern...

... Dracula sent Hector instead, and left Isaac in the castle.

The implication is that Dracula trusted Hector, and only Hector, with the troublesome task of killing the Belmont.

Obviously Drac wants his best Devil Forgemaster back, and so he orders Isaac and his underlings to find out what happened to him - indirectly dooming himself in the process, because without Hector and Isaac protecting him, Trevor and his friends easily steamrolled through the castle. Neither Isaac and his underlings are happy with this, but while the former's protests got immediately shut down by Dracula, the latter are free to talk among themeselves.

It's nice that these guys think Isaac alone could do the job, but I don't know what they were expecting, shittalking Dracula and touching Isaac's sorest spot within earshot :P

This scene becomes outright hilarious in Japanese, because that "the Count favored Lord Hector that much" line is slightly different:

In context it does mean the same thing, but the verb used is 可愛がる, which...

Again. Make of this what you will.

(in case you're wondering, there are other verbs that express the concept of unfairly favoring someone, that don't imply... this.)

And just to cap it all off:

And there it is. There is no canon indication that Dracula played games with his Devil Forgemasters. He just liked Hector more than Isaac.

Interestingly, Isaac is not the first rival in CV who suffers from jealousy issues (Hugh Baldwin and Maxim Kishin come to mind, mostly the former), but in his case, the topic barely comes up, and it's never mentioned in the game proper - in fact, the opposite sentiment is said.

I'm okay with this, because he has already a lot on his plate, and he doesn't need to hate Hector out of jealousy: the betrayal is good reason enough. But it's implied that these negative feelings made him easy prey to the Curse.

[psychic-refugee]

Xavier photo credit to @snailsarecute

The most dreaded Pirate on the Seven Seas was called The Raven. She captained the Nevermore, the swiftest vessel known to man, and it was told that she could command the storm and fog. Where she plundered, no one ever saw her coming and she left devastation in her wake. When they saw the black sails, they knew it was too late.

The stories said she was the daughter of Calypso, goddess of the sea and apprenticed under Circe, a sea witch.

Whole towns would be murdered, stripped of their wealth and supplies. The Raven had a habit of leaving only one survivor, someone to tell the tale of her nefarious deeds.

Xavier was told it was all rubbish and that he had nothing to fear as Port Jericho was the most well protected settlement in the New World. His father, Governor Vincent Thorpe, was teaching him to take over one day, and even had designs to import a Lady from England to be his wife.

He dreaded the day when Lady Bianca Barclay would sail to the New World to be his bride. He never told anyone, but he had dreams of sailing to Paris to study art. Sometimes he would fantasize about stowing away and never looking back, to go on a grand adventure and see something other than Jericho.

One night, drawing the beauty of the stars on a moonless night, he wished he could escape his fate.

He should have been more specific, as the next night, fog rolled in. The pitch-black sails of the Nevermore blended in with the dark wine sea. Port Jericho was bombarded with cannon fire and every weapon of His Majesty’s Navy failed before the Nevermore.

Wolves the size of bears tore through the town and men and women with razor sharp fangs feasted on the townsfolk’s necks.

A massive raven flew overhead as Xavier tried to fight the pirates who invaded his home with his sabre. He and his father were taken prisoner as they were overwhelmed by the enemy.

A dark beauty walked with the grace of a panther through the town to the Governor’s mansion on the hill. She had one of the wolves by her side and a young man Xavier’s age on the other.

As they got closer, Xavier thought he must be losing his mind as the wolf turned into a girl with pink and blue hair. The boy had serpentine eyes with diamond slits. The great raven circled down and perched on the Pirate Queen’s shoulder.

His heartbeat even faster as her dark eyes playfully looked him up and down, she seemed amused at seeing the proud Governor and his son kneeling before her.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” she purred when she came before him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at her. “Such lovely green eyes, don’t you agree Ajax?” she asked over her shoulder to her companion.

“Yeah, I’d say they’re real pretty,” he agreed.

“I think yours are prettier,” the wolf girl said to the other pirate and then wantonly kissed him as she threw herself into his arms. He returned the kiss just as passionately and neither could stop admiring the other while the whole town wept and screamed for mercy.

The Raven toyed with them, teasing them of their dire fate. Somehow she had noticed Xavier’s art and admired his work.

“An artist? Where did an artist learn how to use a sword as you do? I heard you gave my men quite the fight.”

He didn’t dignify the question with an answer, he merely stared long ahead and decided he would try to die with as much of his pride intact as he could.

His stubbornness charmed her, she ghosted her finger along his neck, admiring his strong jawline. She smiled as he shivered from her mere touch and his eyes blazed unwillingly with want.

“You’ll come with me,” she decided, she promised him, “You can paint and draw new lands, and maybe I’ll even model for a few.”

Her lascivious smirk told him perhaps her modeling would be clothing optional.

He told her he’d come willingly and without a fight if she spared his father. She always left at least one witness, so she agreed.

Jericho was stripped of all its wealth and not a soul left alive other than Vincent Thorpe.

As they sailed off,

“Why do you kill everyone in town? Why such brutality?”

“My crew must feed. The vampires need the blood, the wolves need hearts and livers, and the Gorgons need the flesh. We are merely feeding and defending our home. You may call this the New World but trust me when I say it was well occupied for thousands of years before your people even dreamed of crossing the ocean.”

Perhaps he should have felt more guilty for the people in Jericho that had perished, but perhaps the Raven had a point. These Outcasts they called themselves, had a right to protect their own land and seas.

The captain brought him to her quarters, guiding him to her bed as she stalked him like prey and he walked backwards, mesmerized by her heated gaze. He fell back onto the mattress and she tore open his shirt as she straddled his waist. He gasped at the feeling of her weight upon him,

“Are you a maiden?” she questioned him above him, her hands freely roaming his exposed chest.

“Yes,” he gasped as she teased him, seeing no need to be embarrassed or lie. He was certain she could otherwise tell.

“Do you wish not to be?” she was giving him one chance to reject her advances.

He decided that he did not wish to hold onto his maidenhead and that she was everything he had wished for. An escape from his fate and a grand adventure. He answered her by leaning up into her kiss and letting her tear at the rest of his clothes.

The next morning with stark love bites all along his neck and visible on his chest where his new shirt opened, the crew of the Nevermore howled in delight and teased him as his face turned a charming rosy hue.

Wednesday, he had learned her name last night, gave a Cheshire smile and thoroughly enjoyed her newest stolen treasure.

[ultraericthered]

Unpopular Opinion Re: Tangled

Cassandra’s character arc in Season 3 was really shaky and flubbed towards the end, I think we can all agree. But does that mean that the writers should’ve thrown out their initial plans to reveal Cass as Mother Gothel’s secret daughter  and make her into Rapunzel’s dark counterpart and nemesis, and rewrote Cass’ arc so that she stays the good guy character she was prior to Zhan Tiri’s revelation to her? In my opinon, absolutely not. Because Cass’s turn to villainy and her reasons for doing so make perfect sense for her character, and when anyone calls it “out of character” for her I just kind of...have to question how good a reading of her character they ever had. Like, since early Season 1, everything that drove Cass as a character and would sufficiently push her to the edge of making the decision to take the Moon Stone, darken her heart, and turn against her former friends and kingdom were all right there, all hiding in plain sight.

A big facet of Cassandra’s character is her Lieutenant Dan Taylor-esque belief in the all-mighty force of destiny that governs every person. Since she was adopted by the Captain of the Royal Guard, learned horseback riding and how to use weapons, and went to lengths to help out in the kingdom and make sure she was both recognized and respected for her deeds, Cassandra believed that despite being a Lady In Waiting, her destiny was to be something greater, like the future Captain of the Guard herself. She sought the notice, praise and rewards of others because she believed it was to justify her place in life, build up her self-worth, and push destiny closer in her favor...and then along comes Raps to constantly (and completely unintentionally and often obliviously) remind her that she is but a supporting character; it’s Rapunzel who’s the lead in her own story and the most importartant person in the stories of others close to her, herself included. From Cassandra’s perspective it’s always Rapunzel basking in destiny’s limelight while she’s on the sidelines, in the shadows, just waiting for her turn - it’s what “Waiting In The Wings” was all about, a sort of eerie parallel to Rapunzel’s “When Will My Life Begin?” song from the original film. But despite all the temptations to break from Raps and try to carve out her own path to forge her own destiny, Raps meant so much to Cass as a friend that she remained loyal and stuck by her side, resigned to more waiting.

...Until Zhan Tiri came along and flipped the script on its head to Cass by showing her that it was Cass who began her life as the biological daughter of Rapunzel’s evil, abusive false “mother”, Gothel, and baby Rapunzel who Gothel chose to keep and raise as her own child over Cass, her actual child. Obviously this would cut Cass deep because she’d conflate Gothel’s choice with the choice made by destiny itself to pass her by in favor of Rapunzel. THAT is what magnified all of Cass’s pent up resentment towards Rapunzel and made her decide she was going to seize the Moon Stone, her literal last chance to take the reigns in the story of her life and truly become something more than the loyal, patient, often overlooked and underappreciated sidekick to the girl who’d ended up living out a life story that, had Gothel chosen differently that one fateful night, could have been Cassandra’s. And so she did, with the moon stone bringing that magnified resentment out to the forefront and poisoning her mind so that she no longer had to keep in all her darkest urges.

The things that seem to trip people up about this are as follows:

1. Why would someone as guarded and distrustful as Cass so easily trust Zhan Tiri and believe what she showed her was even real? On the first point...she didn’t trust Zhan Tiri. She never did; even before learning her true identity, Cass cutting Zhan Tiri out of their alliance in the finale is likely what she’d always been hoping to do once she had the power she sought. On the second, she knew it was real because she clearly remembered it happening - it was a repressed memory, something she knew all along but mentally blocked out because she was too afraid to confront something so twisted and traumatic.

2. Why was Cass so mad about Gothel being dead when she was never a good person or a good parent to either her or Raps? As her biological mother who abused and abandoned her, Gothel was literally the source of all the pain Cass carried with her to the present day. Her yearning to become something more and have some grand destiny to fulfill and be recognized and adored by all in Corona was a product of how her mother made her feel like she wasn’t enough, that she wasn’t worth being loved or having a special place in her life, by abandoning her. So Gothel being dead robs Cassandra of closure. She never got to ask her mother to her face “Why did you do it? Why wasn’t I enough for you? Was there ever any small part of you that had any actual love for me as your child?” Because Gothel had become the bad guy of Rapunzel’s story instead, and she died for it.

3. Why does she resent and blame Raps for something that happened when Raps was an innocent, literally abducted infant who no agency or control over anything? And why does she not recognize how good she got it with being adopted by a loving father rather than continuing to be raised by an abuser like Gothel? While I could say much about how Cass views people as pawns on the large board of fate rather than as people and how she has issues with hypocrisy and not fully appreciating all the good in her life that she has while pursuing greatness, I’ll just say it boils down to this: Cassandra was never as good, as just, as rational, as sound of mind, as she’d like to have you believe she was. Again, I saw it since Season 1, pegging her as a “semi-evil” character in the same vein as Chancellor Esteban from Elena of Avalor. For anyone who didn’t, that’s on them.

Bottom line: Cassandra’s entire character was desgined to be Rapuzel’s opposite number and set up as one who’d become her villainous counterpart and weild moon power against her sun power, so throwing out her being Gothel’s daughter who would turn to evil after all the groundwork had been laid for it (right down to her design having a physical ressemblence to Gothel!) would’ve been tacky.

^ Yeah, basically what he said!

[marshmallow-bg3]

Past Life Dark Urge Asks - 2nd Edition

by @daemon-in-my-head

Did your Durge interact with others of their assigned race? How did it go, did anyone notice something was off? Did they try to blend in? As half-blood Roux never truly belonged to any distinct race. His cute pointy ears suggested at least part of him was elf, but what kind of elf - he had no clue up till meeting Sceleritas who reluctantly told him he was wood half-elf - but only very technically and totally unimportantly - because what truly mattered was Roux being the purest Bhaalspawn of all. He was raised by humans and interacted with plenty other half-elves and elves but in a big city all cultural and racial differences were smudged unless someone tried to make a point of it, but then it was them who seemed off.

The Urge itself was Bhaal’s greatest gift, a testament to their lineage. But did they despise or delight in these violent urges, did it maybe even scare them? Answered here

Bhaal can control his chosen and force the Slayer or actions upon them; did he ever force your Durge to do something against their will or would they obediently follow? Answered here

Durge has an inherent skill for anything medicine; what was their greatest skill? Sewing, caring for wounds, brewing potions or concocting poisons? Blood flow is his thing. He's as good at staunching the most dangerous bleeding as he is at making people bleed out in record time. All those vivisections weren't for nothing.

The Deathstalker Cloak is part of their inheritance, but did they really use it or did it bide it’s time wasting away in a wardrobe? It has always been one of Roux's favorite Bhaalist items. Orin took it along with his dagger after she attacked him in the colony, but she never had much use for it thanks to shapeshifting, so Sceleritas had no trouble snatching it to return to his true Master. The butler hoped it would help him regain his memories sooner.

Durges adoptive family lived in a house in the lower city. Does that house still stand? Did they claim ownership of it, or did they try to get rid of it? Why? The one in the lower city belonged to the family he hated, so he left as soon as he got rid of them and never looked back. If the house is still standing it was probably claimed by someone else. Roux doesn't care either way. The house he truly considered home is in the upper city and still occupied by his last foster parents. Roux avoids that area, nothing good would come of it if someone from his good bloodless past recognized him.

Bane once sacrificed all of Bhaals assassins, a mistake that caused a great rift between them. Did Durge ever plan to get revenge for it? This one is a bit too lore-heavy? I have no idea what it is about and failed to quickly find answers, so I'm gonna skip :(

Being the head of a temple comes with lots of tedious work, did they truly manage all of it or did they try to outsource the best they could? Roux is incompatible with anything tedious in general. Most of the temple management was done by Sarevok (through Orin) and Sceleritas who claimed he was acting on Roux's orders. In practice Roux had very little involvement in anything ever. He was there for the murdering.

The Feast of the Moon is a bhaalian ritual where priests told the stories of particularly interesting or unique kills. Was one of your Durges deeds ever discussed, or perhaps even turned into a beloved and often retold story? And once again Sceleritas - Roux's evil little PR agent - made sure his kills were sang in legends. Most of Roux's pre-tadpole reputation was actively and lovingly crafted by his master manipulator of a butler.

Speaking off, Day’s Farewell was another ritual everyone of the clergy had to attend as evening dawned over Faerûn. But was it really everyone that came to the gathering, or did a particular Bhaalist sneak out at times or outright refuse attendance? Did they maybe even appear early, eagerly awaiting another service? When he had just joined the Temple it was a novelty, he was a novelty, Roux was trying to truly fit in, he was getting the attention and adoration from these gatherings so he enjoyed it a lot. Later when both his enthusiasm and the genuine interest in him had waned, he started delegating it to Orin along with other ceremonial activities.

[eachlittlebird]

I wanted to write something for Andor, so in lieu of any requested prompts I chose one from this list. Here’s a little piece about Cassian and Mon Mothma.

Sparkling + Andor

It was a beautiful view.

Coruscant spread itself out beneath the widest window of the Chandrilian Embassy like a sparkling multicolored sea, blue depths and silver heights lined and crossed by motes of color across the visible spectrum. Whole worlds that would have filled dozens of smaller planets were encompassed in the planet-city, squared off and stacked one atop the other like the rock cairns Chandrilian children built along river banks. Over the centuries these unique worlds, these enclaves of cultures from across the galaxy, had been further compressed, their edges melding into one another, some rising towards the stratosphere, some sinking towards the crust.

If she had had the time years earlier to stand at the window as she was doing now, Mon Mothma might have appreciated the view. Not that she had more time now: on the contrary, time was running out. It occurred to her that there were so many things she had missed, dashing from committee to committee, vote to vote. She had thought she was rushing to cover everything, to let nothing slip; now she realized everything that truly mattered had eluded her and fallen between the cracks, crushed like those communities in the substratum of the city, pushed into darkness by the weight of the loftier things up above.

The view took Mon’s breath away. But it wasn’t the breathlessness of awe that left her feeling as light-headed as a diver who’d ventured too deep, lungs aching in a panic for air. Despite the multitude of lights, thick as stars, all Mon could see was darkness. Coruscant was built on corruption: that was the material pushing the highest towers towards the sky. The corruption of the Empire was but the largest layer in a strata of rot that reached down to the very core of the planet. Perhaps to the core of every planet. Wherever sentient species built communities, developed commerce, formed governments to rule themselves and their neighbors, corruption wormed its way in, growing from a germ into a full-blown infection. Corrupt thoughts became corrupt deeds, small acts at first that merely bent the rules, cheated a neighbor, gained an edge over someone else’s honest toil. Like floors of permacrete, the corruption built: individuals joined a criminal gang that ruled a zone, criminal gangs linked to form syndicates that spanned systems, corporations threaded with corruption staked unlawful claims to vast swathes of resource-rich territory. And from the highest pinnacle, the Empire’s corruption pressed down and pulled up: extracting, pushing, draining, wasting, grinding up everyone and everything and exerting a weight so exhausting that people lost the energy required for rage.

Staggering amounts of corruption. Palpatine’s. The corpos. The syndicates. Her own.

Where had her corruption first taken hold? In the lie that was her marriage to Perrin? In all the times she’d turned a blind eye, buying aid for one planet by letting corruption oppress another for a little longer? She hadn’t thought of it as corruption at the time, but as compromise, holding her nose through unpleasant business so she could sneak some small good past the grasping hands and watchful eyes. She had always used her power to help others. But having power, and holding it, was itself an act of corruption in the present system. Living with wealth, sleeping in comfort, while tens of thousands could not, fed the slow growth of corruption in the soul.

Now she stood on the threshold of the greatest compromise she’d ever been forced to swallow, the highest stakes swap of one precious hope for another. The value of the commodities being traded this time were immeasurable and she could not look away from the seedy details of the transaction, not when it was happening within the very walls of her home. Was the good that might come of it worth the astronomical price? Could the salvation of billions ever make up for the sale of one soul? Maybe, but Mon could only consider it the ultimate act of corruption. There was no betrayal more damning than one rooted in love.

The lights of Coruscant merged into one dull indistinguishable blur beyond the film of Mon’s tears, but it didn’t matter. There was nothing to see outside that broad Embassy window except a dying city, built of venality and lies.

***

A sea breeze blew in over the sand, ruffling Cassian’s hair the way Maarva’s fingers had when, as a child, he’d sat bent over a data pad, learning his Aurebesh letters. He could still see, with startling clarity, the indulgent warmth of her smile, and he struggled to swallow. Melshi had already walked away and Cassian could let the tears flow. But he’d learned long ago that there was some pain too severe to even allow for crying.

Instead Cassian turned and looked out at the ocean. Rows upon rows of breakers rolled, mild and orderly, towards the beach. The sun of Niamos was setting, shading the sky a soft pink as it sank and sparkling on the edges of the waves like molten gold. He didn’t want to find anything to admire in the view - a single positive thought in the depth of his grief seemed like a betrayal - but Cassian couldn’t help it. He didn’t know how, couldn’t quite believe it, but there was something of Maarva there at that moment. Something in the unapologetic vibrancy of the pink sky. Something in the stubborn forward momentum of the waves. Something in the boisterous chatter of the seabirds out on the sand, the call of one to another echoing Maarva’s brash laughter.

Cassian didn’t know if Maarva had ever visited Niamos. But she was there now, with him. Wherever he went, he knew she always would be.

He faced the ocean squarely, drew the salty air into his lungs, feeling it expand his chest and brace him up, scrubbing the last of Narkina 5 from his skin.

Yes, it was a beautiful view.

[be4tdown]

it's funny how so few words could strike the fear of god into his heart [ ... ] so few words that any metalhead that poured their dedicated sweat and the blood from their fingertips into their vest dreaded hearing. A GOOD HEARTED DEED THAT WAS RECIEVED BY SOMEONE WHO ACTED LIKE IT WAS THE WORST POSSIBLE NEWS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN DELIVERED. washing machines were in league with satan himself and who knows which of the nine circles of hell his patches and pins were forced to witness if that was the cruel fate they were dealt. ( sewing was never his specialty ) and every drop of his blood that had soaked into fabric in the process would be proof of that ; his décor was already threatening to barely hold on as it was.

@zerorisk (karen): i washed your vest. it smelled like beer and sweat.

❛❛ you hand washed it , right ? ❜❜ taking the clothing in question between tattooed hands , his attention would immediately be honed in on the large back patch for examination. ( and upon realizing it was still very much intact , ) it would then be turned in all different directions in search for anything too loose or worst of all —— missing. HE'LL CATCH HINT OF A FLORAL SCENT WHILE DOING SO. something far better than the questionable memories caked into it. but good luck getting the stubborn vocalist to admit that. once satisfied with his findings and once his heart was no longer on the verge of jumping out from his ribcage , a dark gaze would finally find her beneath long lashes with a small but teasing smile. ❛❛ the beer and sweat is part of the charm. ❜❜

[northsouth89]

Palaestra-Beta-Etal : 1518

~

Dazanoso: Privacy is dying. It won't die fully, but it will be having a dramatic death scene for quite some time. What do we do, how do we live, when secrets become impossible?

Palæ: I figured I'd let them speak for themselves as to the project.

D: There's an idea called the panopticon, basically theology via architecture. But it gets something wrong, it forces a false dichotomy. That'll be a theme.

Bob: Hm.

D: Prisoner vs guard, guard vs prisoner. But that isn't needed, not really. We can just boop, pop the idea of the guard tower in the center of the grand prison and give every cell a video feed of every cell. Done.

Alice: Do they even need the video? They can hear one another just fine can't they.

D: I suppose that's true, and a more robust construction of this idea might use that. a dark prison perhaps, where everyone can hear everyone else and the only privacy you have is in your own body.

B: This is assuming perfect hearing? Someone turns over in their sleep and you hear skin brush against the sheets, that sort of hypothetical?

D: I suppose so. But let's step away from the hypothetical anyway, let's move in the direction of abstraction. Each person, not prisoner, mind you, that framing has a lot of baggage I don't want to deal with. Each person, player, user, whatever. They all have different categories of deed and different categories of action. Stuff they do and others know about, and stuff they do that others don't know about. Then there's stuff they want others to know about, and stuff they want specific others to know about. We can chart this out later. But overall, make sense -ish?

A: -ish. But yes. I see a theme here.

B: And you're operationalizing intent and signals and such, that's pretty standard for Alice and I.

P: So, what are we to do with this? You said the project had the goal of solving loneliness?

D: I think what I could use now is an imagining of a utopia where all my various axioms have been digested, internalized, corrupted, redeemed, argued over, etc. A hypothetical future as a jumping off point for ideation and storytelling. I not only ask for paradise, but an achievable paradise. No big, right?

P: No big. Everyone, you in?

A: Of course.

B: Sure.

Beta: Come to me if you need anything specific, but I don't think this is my cup of coffee.

P: Oh, yeah, we are still working on that aren't we?

Bo: are we?

Be: Who's to say?

P: Start minimal and build as needed. We might need some task management or logistics or something.

D: No rush. Actually, no, that's a lie. Rush. But failure is acceptable.

Bo: Is it?

P: Let's circle back in a bit.