#theirs was called 'even the wicked'

[hydrachea]

The 2.1 main quest really has a way of guessing who you main...

[heartfullofleeches]

Which of your yans would have their darling in their Sims with wicked whims installed? I honestly wouldn't judge, I make myself in the Sims to just to feel some love

It was brought up for Miller [Streamer Yan] in one older post of theirs. Unlike a certain bastard I'll mention next, Miller feels like a kid when their parents walk in on something they know they're probably shouldn't be doing and either covers their monitors with their hands when their darling walks in, closes the game, or simply unplugs their computer.

V's [Loser Yan] greasy rat ass will maintain eye contact with his darling while they're looking over his shoulder at their sims going at it. This fucker has never felt shame a day in their life and happily go back to playing with their sims as they please with darling standing in the background.

Brie [🌽star Yan] would have it before he got together with his darling - especially if they were long distance. It helps gives him food for thought when he's alone in his bed and wants to feel their touch. It sits in limbo when he finally has them with him, but always drags him back when they're away.

Devlin [Immortal Yan] - this old man (further context - Dev is physically in his twenties has been that age since the late 1800s bc he's immortal) thinks relaxing games like the Sims is for nerds, but tell him about that mod and it's suddenly one of his favorite games.

"You mean I can make these little characters who look like us fuck?! Move over, babes- I need to check this shit out!"

Calliope [Creep Yan] would download it one day out of pure curiosity- She's the kinda gal who'd play Sims religiously with her Sim and darling's happily living together as a couple. She enjoys mods that give things a somewhat more realistic feel and she would like to bed her darling someday so it feels justified. If darling finds out - she'll smash burn her computer in her backyard. She isn't a pervert! Just a lonely girl in love.

C.C [Incubus Yan] would claim it's below him and that someone else downloaded it on his computer, but catch him drunk, alone and missing his boo guess where his ass will be?

"Your sim can stay home from work and fuck mine, but you can't call off work for one damn day and spend time with me? I want cuddles and sex, damnnit!"

In theory, Amyas [Yan Cupid] little pervy self would love to play, but he probably couldn't figure out how to get it working without your help even with instructions and he'd be too shy/embarrassed to ask you.

Mono [Alien Yan] would look into it for "research purposes". They originally makes themselves for another angle on what their human form may look like, but their curiosity gets the better of them when they discover mods

Alien [Another Alien Yan A normal human guy] Would have it, but it gets lost amongst the sea of objectively funnier mods to mess around with like ones that'll give him/darling wings and other stuff like that.

[porcelainseashore]

The Faceless One - Palla Grande "King Slayers" ft. Gael Romilly

Author's Note: I’m so excited that this is my first time writing for VtM and participating in an event! Here’s my entry for the Palla Grande "King Slayers" hosted by @tzimizce, which tells the story of how Gael, the daredevil, couldn’t resist getting into one of her own.

She wasn’t from around these parts. Her brothers and sisters had told tall tales about the infamous event the Sabbat held each year, captivated her with descriptions of their festivities—maybe rumors—rumors were common among her kind.

“Bullshit,” she had said, waving her hand dismissively, drunk on warm blood sloshing around in a squashed plastic cup. A dash of it spilled to the ground, watering the cracked soil and scarring it red. 

“You don’t believe us? Then see it for yourself,” they had chanted, eyes gleaming, sharpened teeth luminescent under the glow of the moonlit sky.

The compulsion in her ached, clawing through her ribcage, shredding it apart. Streams of ribbons scarlet on her bare hands. And she knew that she would tear out her undead eyes just for a glimpse into such revelry.

“I will,” she gritted out, tossing the empty cup into the dirt, another blemish upon the landscape they called theirs, at least for the night.

All Hallows Eve descended upon the city in all its wicked glory, reeking of cheap liquor on tacky costumes, and barbed wire in candy. Gael drove into the heart of it, finding a place where the misfits and wannabes hung out in droves. A perfect hunting ground for those who dared call themselves vampires.

In there, whispers upon whispers circulated among friends of friends of acquaintances of strangers, and she heard it all. She could be charming if she wanted to, especially when she wasn’t shivering like an addict looking for their next fix.

“It’s an exclusive party,” one of the group told her snottily. “They asked specifically for five of us.”

Us. Gael didn’t belong—not yet.

That was okay. She revealed her first card, just like the way her lips pulled taut against the flesh of her gums to reveal her teeth. For a split second, her pupils flashed diabolically.

“But I am part of your five,” she grinned.

They stammered, hemmed and hawed, unable to shy away from her gaze. It didn’t take long for them to oust the weakest of the group, offering Gael their spot instead. As they set off, there were cackles and chatter about being honored at a Blood Feast.

Poor new age witches, they never stood a chance. So naive, so easy to manipulate, she thought. And what of her now? She would let them be blood bags for some ostentatious display of power.

A silent witness.

“Mistress Lydia’s guests?” the bouncer at the door asked.

Gael’s heart pounded in her chest. Oh, how she had forgotten what it felt like to be alive! Even through mimicry—what she would continue to rely on for the rest of the evening.

“Here, put this on.”

She was handed a poppy flower to pin on her jacket. Touché. The flower of spilled blood and sacrifice. How blatant could the Sabbat be?

As she was ushered in, she took in the marvelous sights of wild excess and debauchery. The costumes, each more extravagant than the other. She would soon don her own, but for now, she played the role of a moronic tourist, piggybacking off someone else’s invitation.

Her keen eyes darted around, surveying the venue. The passageways and exits were triple checked. So were the doors leading to the pantries and cellars.

The bathrooms. Check.

Behind the bars. Check.

Backstage. Check. 

The gears began to turn in Gael’s head as she ticked each area of interest off like an item on her inventory list. Years of being a runner and drug mule for a particularly notorious coterie in the Northwest had left its mark and taken its toll. But maybe we’ll get to that later—or not.

As usual, she slipped away into the crowd, losing the flower as she blended in like a chameleon, shifting skins—smoothly, expertly, shedding her self in the layers, to appear as one nondescript form to another. She had to be careful to avoid any misstep. One wrong move, and she was done for. Although she had a thousand masks to wear, there were a thousand pairs of eyes, always watching, from the shadows, from the blind corners of her vision.

Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as a byproduct of the way in which she conducted her affairs—meticulous and calculating. Falling into pace, fear and trepidation gave way to thrill and excitement. She swore she could see the searing white adrenaline course through her veins, turning them milky and sticky. And her Beast was pleased.

Across the night, she was a human guest, a ghoul server, a band’s roadie all-in-one. She flitted between guises like switching dance partners—never bored, nor boring. Picking up on secret codes and gestures, weaving in and out of head counts, sometimes one more, sometimes one less, like that creepypasta she had read on 4chan… Anansi’s Goatman?

Doppelgänger, shapeshifter, but she was pretty damn sure that they were Ravnos—like her. 

Just before suspicion arose, she would change out again. Luck was on her side, for the time being. 

She watched wide-eyed as the grandiose performance of a sacrificial rite played out on stage, interspersed with images of Gehenna. The first of the mortals were slaughtered unknowingly among the sheep.

Power. Was this what Cainites felt at the height of their bloodlust?

Gael felt it too, similarly but different. She’d done it. None of her brothers and sisters saw, but she’d done it, and that was enough. 

Here she was, standing in a tank circled by sharks, unnoticed. Just another one of the many. Faceless, nameless, a nobody.

To be faceless was to retake power from having an identity—something to label, to judge, to align you with a sect or cause, under a banner. And for what?

To be unshackled of the ego—that was true power. 

She’d made it this far, but the hardest part yet was getting out. As far as she observed, the doors had been sealed shut long ago. Everything would be accounted for, dealt with, and cleaned up.

What would they do if they found her? Would they destroy her on the spot, or convert her to their church? Had they lulled her into a false sense of security, waiting for the right moment to strike?

Regardless, she would always remain fiercely independent, even in her final—

Dividers by @diableriedoll

[vermilionsun]

Hi don’t mind that I’m here again akdnsjsks

If it’s okies may I ask for some HCs for Ais and Mhin whose s/o comes back to the sea spring or to Wet Wick but then s/o is Injured/covered in blood? Esp on how they’d react and what they would do 👁️👁️ tyvm!

Ah, love a classic prompt!

There's a "just bloody, not injured" and a "knocking on deaths door" version for both, with an extra little something for Ais.

Enjoy <3

Mhin

🕊 Mhin was sitting idly at the bar of the Wet Wick, nursing a shot of mead, when a familiar figure limbed inside.

Superficial

🕊 Their partner entered the tavern, groaning as they collapsed into the seat next to Mhin. The latter tried to hide their smile with their drink when they noticed their partner’s clothes stained in blood, but couldn’t see any cuts in the fabric. "What’s wrong with you now. Rough day?" Mhin asked, already knowing the answer, as they signaled the bartender for a round of drinks for them.

The partner let out a tired chuckle, running a hand through their disheveled hair. "You have no idea," they replied, accepting the drink from the bartender with a grateful nod. "A bastard tried to stab me."

🕊 Mhin's already flattened smile immediately faded. They turned their partner around on the stool, forcing them to face them and grabbing their waist to check for injuries. Their touch was surprisingly gentle. "Are you bleeding?"

"No, thankfully I was able to dodge in time, save for a few cuts. But it was a close call," they admitted, taking a sip of their drink to calm their nerves.

🕊 They let out a quiet sigh of relief. They reached out and pushed some hair out of their partner's face, their expression a mix of worry and irritation. "When will you ever learn?"

"Mhin—"

🕊 "I warned you something like this would happen multiple times." They continued eyeing their partner up and down, their hands still on their waist, subconsciously drawing them closer. "You're such a magnet for trouble. What were you doing in the dark alleys again? Who even goes to those places at night?" They shook their head in exasperation.

"Mhin—"

🕊 "What's the name of the person you got into a fight with this time? No one hurts you and gets away with it—"

Their words were cut off by their partner's lips against theirs.

"It doesn't matter; I can handle myself," their partner replies with a stupid smile.

🕊 Mhin's cheeks flushed a pretty, even pink. "I know you can, but that doesn't mean I won't worry," they said softly, reaching out to take their partner's hand into theirs, only to be engulfed into their warm embrace.

🕊 "I promise, I'll be more careful next time," their partner whispered, holding them close.

"…Idiot."

Serious

🕊 Their s/o's side was covered in blood, their hands concealing the wound as they staggered towards Mhin with a wild look in their eyes. 

🕊 Mhin's eyes widened, and the moment they caught sight of the blood, they were up to their feet, rushing over to their s/o’s side. “What the hell happened to you?”

🕊 Their s/o looked up at Mhin with a mix of pain and desperation in their eyes. "It's a long story," they managed to gasp out before collapsing into Mhin's arms. More blood gushed out of the wound, staining Mhin's clothes as they held them close, feeling their heartbeat flutter against their chest.

🕊 Mhin cursed under their breath, shifting their grip to get a better hold of them, mind clouded with worry. Mhin slung their partner's arm over their shoulder, supporting their weight as they half-carried them to a more secluded space. "We need to get you patched up."

🕊 “Stay with me, okay?” Mhin coaxed softly. They gently lowered their partner onto a chair, keeping one hand on their shoulder and using the other to inspect the wound. "How long ago did this happen?" they asked with a deep breath, trying to calm themselves.

🕊 Their partner let out a pained wheeze, shuddering slightly as Mhin's fingers prodded at the injury. Eyes half-lidded and unfocused, they tried to answer, but only managed a weak cough instead. “Few hours…” They let out a shaky whisper, their gaze drifting to the floor, the effort clearly taking its toll.

🕊 "You idiot, why didn’t you get help?!" Mhin scolded, their voice laced with worry and frustration. "I'll take care of you now; just hold on," they assured their partner, despite the feeling of unease settling in the pit of their stomach.

🕊 They weakly shook their head. "I didn't want to worry you," they whispered before losing consciousness.

🕊 Mhin's heart sank, and they let out a low growl, scooping them up swiftly and carried them out of the bar and to Kuras' clinic. 

🕊 Mhin's heart sank, and they let out a low growl, scooping them up swiftly and carrying them out of the bar and to Kuras' clinic. They felt completely powerless, watching their partner's pale face and limp body in their arms as they rushed through the crowded streets, praying for the first time in a long, long time.

🕊 Mhin banged at Kuras' clinic's back door relentlessly, their motions bordering on desperation, when the door swung open and Kuras appeared. He only needed to take one look at the situation before rushing them inside for immediate treatment.

🕊 Mhin felt a sense of helplessness wash over them as they stood in the waiting room, their hands clenched tightly in fists as they tried to push back the overwhelming fear and worry that threatened to consume them. The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as they paced back and forth.

🕊 Once allowed inside, they'd stay by their partner’s bedside, holding their hands tightly and silently begging for them to wake up and be okay. The seconds felt like hours, each heartbeat echoing loudly in Mhin's ears as they waited for their partner's eyes to finally flutter open and give them that stupid grin they adored so much.

🕊 One name, that’s all Mhin needed. One name to end one life.

Ais

✩ Ais was lazing around the temple, soaking in the peaceful atmosphere and enjoying the cool breeze that wafted through the openings. Suddenly, the door opened with a loud creak, breaking the tranquility of the moment. Ais looked up to see a distinctive shadow entering with a stumble; their face contorted in agony, their clothes covered in crimson red.

Superficial

✩ “What in the hell?” His crimson eyes narrowed in curiosity. He took a moment to observe his partner, noting the bloodstains on their clothes.

✩ Ais quickly stood up and rushed over to his partner, concern etched on his face. "What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked.

"I'm fine, just a scratch," his partner replied through gritted teeth.

✩ Ais' eyebrow raised at the nonchalant reply, clearly unconvinced by the dismissive remark. "Sure, because people walk in here covered in blood all the time, 'just a scratch'," he quipped sarcastically. “You sure look like a walking crime scene. Let me see." He moved closer, his gaze sharpening as he examined the extent of the 'scratch', his touch surprisingly gentle for his rough demeanor. Thankfully, his partner was right—the blood wasn’t theirs.

✩ "You're insufferable, you know that?" he muttered, the hint of relief in his voice barely perceptible. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his gaze still fixed on his partner. "Care to explain how you ended up looking like a splatter painting, then?"

"A bastard tried to stab me."

✩ "Tried to stab you?" Ais chuckled wryly, a hint of irony dripping from his words. "But they failed miserably, I presume?”

✩ His smirk widened when his partner merely nodded in affirmative. "What happened to them?" he inquired, his voice laced with curiosity.

Serious

✩ As his partner approached, Ais could see tears streaming down their face, and their hands clutching at their chest. He immediately sprang into action, rushing to help them, but wasn't able to cushion their fall as they collapsed onto the ground, clutching their chest and gasping for breath.

✩ "Damn it, you idiot..." Ais cursed under his breath as he kneeled beside his partner, "Just what did you do now....?" he muttered, his gaze flickering between their pained face and their trembling hands clutching at their chest. That's when he saw it—a huge gash along their ribcage, blood seeping out steadily to the temple's cold stone floor, seeping into the Seaspring.

✩ Ais' heart skipped a beat. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his own emotions in check as he assessed the extent of the injury. "That... doesn't look good..."

✩ He quickly tore off a piece of his own cloak and pressed it against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "Hang in there; we'll get you patched up," he said, his voice filled with panic overlayed with faux confidence. He knew they needed help, and fast.

✩ He looked around the temple, searching for any supplies that could help him, that could help them. But there was nothing.

✩ Ais drowned in cold sweat as desperation began to set in. "Think, think, think," he muttered to himself, his mind racing through all possible options as he frantically tried to think of a solution—

✩ “A̶i̶s̶” The sound was barely audible—a faint whisper carried on the wind—and yet it sent a shiver down his spine. Ais froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

"No," he muttered through clenched teeth.

✩ “Y̶o̶u̶ c̶a̶n̶'t̶ s̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶," Ocuedus laughed in his head. "B̶r̶i̶n̶g̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶ t̶o̶ m̶e̶," it called out.

"No... Shut up..!" Ais shook his head, trying to block out the dark voice.

✩ "B̶R̶I̶N̶G̶ T̶H̶E̶M̶ T̶O̶ M̶E̶!" It demanded, and its enormous shadow constricted around him like a vice, making it difficult to breathe.

"Stop it—"

✩ "Come on," it coaxed; its voice almost resembled a soothing melody, a human tone that terrified the man. "S̶a̶v̶e̶ t̶h̶e̶m̶… Save me," its voice became one of his beloved.

✩ For a moment, everything stopped; the sound of his unconscious partner's blood falling into the dark liquid of the spring, steady as a clock, being the only source of sound. He looked down at his partner, their pain-stricken face swimming before his eyes.

#1

✩ Ais clenched his fists. "Fuck you," the defiant words spilled from his lips without hesitation.

Ocuedus merely chuckled in response, as if amused by Ais' futile resistance.

✩ The distorted chorus continued to echo in his mind, haunting him with its plea for salvation as he picked up his partner's limp body and carried them away from the spring.

✩ He ran through the wasteland; the weight of his partner in his arms felt heavier with each step, but he refused to let the fear and uncertainty of the situation consume him. And he didn't stop running until the familiar scent of the inside of Kuras' clinic was penetrating his lungs.

#2

✩ He felt his resolve crumble like a stack of cards. "Damn it...!" With a resigned sigh, Ais gritted his teeth and slowly stood up, his body trembling with a mixture of anger and helplessness. He scooped up his partner and carried them down the steep wooden stairs and into the crimson liquid.

✩ He closed their nose, opened their mouth, and gently submerged them into the warm, swirling pool. With a heavy heart, he watched as their body began to convulse and twitch, the dark liquid working its magic.

✩ And if his partner didn’t wake up again… Eridia be damned.

[kallie-den]

Reflection

An unethical hypnotist finds out that her new girlfriend has a twin brother, and takes it as an opportunity to create a matching pair

A really fun little force-fem/incest/twinning story my patrons voted for a few months back!

If you like my writing, please consider supporting me on Patreon!  For less than the price of a cup of coffee each month, you can get immediate, early access to everything I write - 4 pieces of hypno-smut a  month, including the latest chapters of all the multi-chapter stories I write. Your support helps me keep writing and is greatly appreciated <3

---

“So, Natasha.” Ethan tried to sound casual as he asked the question he’d come all this way to put to his sister’s creepy new girlfriend. It wasn’t hard; the wine had been flowing freely all evening. “How did you two meet?”

“See, that’s an unfair question.” Natasha giggled. “Not like I can ask you the same thing.”

Natasha was sitting at the opposite end of the couch. She was smiling, probably; that weird, knowing smile that always raised Ethan’s hackles. But he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t stop staring at her arm, wrapped possessively around Emma, his twin sister.

“C’mon,” he wheedled, spreading his arms. “Don’t I get to know?”

“Be nice to him, Nat,” Emma said sleepily. “He’s just looking out for his kid sister.”

The two of them were slumped together; Natasha, leaning over on the armrest, Emma, half in her lap. Ethan didn’t like that. He didn’t like how at-ease Natasha looked. From how she lounged around, you’d think this was her apartment, not Emma’s. Except now it was both of theirs, apparently. She’d moved in after just two months. It wasn’t right. Something was up.

“Kid sister?” Natasha raised an eyebrow and took another sip of wine. “I thought the two of you were twins.”

“Twelve minutes.” Emma giggled. “But he never lets anyone forget it.”

Ethan shrugged good-naturedly. He was used to this teasing. “Twelve minutes is twelve minutes! Just let me have this, Em.”

The two of them laughed together, and for a moment it was just like old times. The two of them growing up together, or at college, thick as thieves. The twins. No secrets. No weird girlfriends.

“Twins,” Natasha repeated. The moment died. “You must get tired of hearing this, but it’s really something. The two of you truly are just about identical.”

Emma wagged a finger up at her. “Not identical! I’ve told you, dizygotic. If we were identical, we’d be same-sex.”

“That’s right. I remember.” There was a strange mischief in Natasha’s eyes. As if Ethan needed another reason to dislike her, besides the way she’d come into Emma’s life like a battering ram. “But still. That resemblance. Wow. It’s like… it’s like you’re a matching pair.”

“Similar genes, I suppose.” Ethan couldn’t quite conceal his irritation. He sure did get tired of hearing it.

Not that she was wrong, admittedly. As kids, Ethan and Emma had been mistaken for each other all the time. That was in the past now, but it had persisted long into their teenage years thanks to Ethan’s slight build and preference for keeping his hair long.

“Hey, I’m curious,” Natasha said, a wicked grin slapped across her face. “You two ever fuck with the same girl? Maybe even… at the same time?”

“What the fuck…” Ethan breathed, as Emma completely dissolved into helpless laughter.

“Ew!” she protested, after catching her breath. “A three-way? With him? Are you kidding me? How would that even work?”

Natasha shrugged. “I dunno. But he likes girls, you like girls…”

“Yeah, since, like, two months ago.” Emma stuck her tongue out.

Ethan was aghast. Natasha’s comment was extremely weird, of course, but somehow Emma’s reaction was even weirder. A few months ago, she never would have laughed off a question like that. She would have been angry. Repulsed. That was the twin sister Ethan knew. She was proud, and she had always been so dignified.

And she wasn’t a lesbian.

Was that fucked up of him to think? Maybe. Ethan certainly wasn’t in the business of calling people’s sexualities into question… mostly. But this was Em. He knew her better than he knew herself. They’d never kept anything from each other. If she’d displayed even the slightest inkling of being interested in girls, he’d have known about it. But no; by contrast, she’d always been a little boy crazy. She’d even had a fiancé - right up until she’d ditched him for this sleazeball.

Ethan didn’t like her. It wasn’t that she was trans, and it wasn’t that she was gay. It was something more. It was the way she seemed to have Emma wrapped around her little finger. Something was up, and that shit-eating grin Natasha always wore was all but daring Ethan to figure it out. It was why he’d visited, not that he’d ever have told Emma that. If she was manipulating Emma - or worse - he needed to get to the bottom of it. He wouldn’t have put it past her, especially after comments like the one she’d just made.

And what kind of job was being a hypnotist, anyway?

“That’s really gross…” Ethan said quietly. He was hoping for some backup from Emma. He didn’t get much.

“I told you, play nice.” Emma gave Natasha a little tap on the arm. “You were about to tell him how we met?”

“Right.” Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling Natasha was smirking at him as she spoke. “Well, that’s not much of a story. Emma came to one of my shows, we got talking, and the rest is history.”

Emma pressed a little closer to Natasha and favored her with a winning smile. She seemed sickeningly infatuated.

“I see.” Ethan nodded. He needed to keep his cool. See if he could trick any answers out of Natasha. “That sounds nice. And is this before or after you figured out that you, uh…”

He threw Emma a significant look.

“Are a lesbian?” She snickered. “Yeah, pretty much around that time.”

“A little before,” Natasha corrected. Her smirk was widening. “You might say I talked her through it, actually. Maybe made her realize a few things.”

“Yeah.” Emma’s eyes became a touch unfocused. Clearly, she’d had a glass too many. “You were a big help.”

“Oh yeah?” Ethan tried his best to feign simple curiosity. “How’s that?”

Natasha just shrugged. “I’ve had shit to come to terms with too. Gender, sexuality… it’s not so different.” She looked down at Emma and licked her lips. “And then we hooked up. I guess I’m just a smooth talker.”

The way she said it was just so twisted. And that look in her eyes. Once, in college, as he’d been walking back to his dorm room, all the other guys had been looking and talking to Ethan just like that. And when he’d opened the door, a bucket of cold water had fallen on his head.

But again, it was how Emma reacted that really caught Ethan’s eye. She was squirming slightly in Natasha’s lap, subtly rubbing her thighs together and pressing closer to her girlfriend. It was lurid. Ethan felt embarrassed to be watching. He cleared his throat conspicuously.

“That’s amazing,” he said, hoping he could keep the bitter insincerity out of his voice. “But, Em, I’m curious, what got you going to a hypnosis show? That doesn’t seem like your scene.”

She stopped writhing, mercifully, and shrugged at him. “I guess I was just curious.”

“Lots of people are.” Natasha snapped at the heels of that comment. “How about you, Ethan? You seem a little scornful.”

That was putting it mildly. “Call it skeptical,” Ethan replied mildly. He didn’t want to put her on edge, but if he could get her talking… “Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you’re a great performer! But it’s not. You know. Real.”

“It’s real,” Emma retorted quickly. “It works on me.”

“It certainly does,” Natasha laughed.

Emma squirmed again. Ethan had to fight not to blow his top.

“Maybe it works great on some people,” Ethan amended. “A few people. But not… I mean, c’mon! How does that even work? You swing a little pocket watch in front of someone, and they start dancing around like a chicken? Please!”

“Oh, she doesn’t need a pocket watch,” Emma giggled.

Natasha, meanwhile, was just looking at Ethan. She didn’t look offended, not in the slightest. But there was still something fiery about her gaze. It was like she was being challenged. No, like she was challenging him.

And from her grin, she was very, very pleased about it.

“So,” she said slowly, “I’m guessing you don’t think you’re one of those ‘few people’ it works on?”

Ethan shrugged. “Nah. No way.”

“But your sister is?”

Another shrug. “I guess.”

“Now that’s interesting.” Natasha sat forward a little; Emma shifted to accommodate. “You know, you’re right that not everyone is equally susceptible. But your sister? I can assure you, she’s very, very susceptible. She really goes down easy.”

Ethan felt a vein throb in his forehead at the innuendo. But that aside, she was obviously hinting at something. Some kind of influence she had on Emma. Was she really so cocky she was just going to tell him?

“But you two are twins,” Natasha continued. “If you’re really so different, doesn’t that make you wonder? Maybe it’s that old debate again. Nature versus nurture.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Emma interjected, sleepily and happily. “I told you. We’re not genetically identical.”

“Right. I forgot.” It was as plain as day that she hadn’t. “Still though. Makes me wonder… hey, babe? Sit up for a moment.”

Emma grumbled a little, but quickly propped herself into an upright position and turned to face Ethan, with Natasha sitting behind her. Natasha’s eyes moved slowly back and forth between the twins.

“Wow,” Natasha remarked. “I know, I know, you’re not identical, but… wow. You two. It must be like looking in a mirror.”

“Not really,” Ethan said wearily. Why was she so preoccupied with this? He was trying to get her talking about hypnosis. “Look, same birthday aside, we’re really just brother and sister. It’s not that special.”

“Oh, I disagree,” Natasha replied. “To me, it’s remarkable. Twins or no, the similarity is striking. Maybe you’re just too used to it? That happens, sometimes. You see something every day, for months or years, and it becomes mundane. You know what I’m talking about?”

“Sure, I guess,” Ethan answered impatiently. Natasha had started speaking in this odd, slow way, drawing out the parts of each word into a song-like rhythm. It was kind of annoying. He really wanted her to get to the point.

“You need to get some perspective,” Natasha told him. “Look at this with fresh eyes. At yourself, and your sister. Look. Really look. She looks just like you.”

Ethan found himself obliging, staring straight at Emma. He wasn’t really sure why. It was hard not to, he supposed, after listening to Natasha. Plus, he was a little drunk himself, and it wasn’t like there was anything else in particular for him to rest his eyes on. But also, admittedly, Ethan was wondering: did she have a point? Were they really so identical?

He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think so. There were similarities, sure - eye color, long hair - but plenty more differences. Emma had long, feminine lashes and rounded cheeks, and was wearing makeup. Her hair was loose in a pretty, wavy bob, not tied back in a low, no-effort ponytail. There was a family resemblance, sure, but nobody was going to get the two of them mixed up.

“I… don’t think so.”

Ethan paused and frowned. He was speaking slowly too, and almost slurring his words. Maybe he was more drunk than he’d thought. That was no good. He needed to stay alert if he was going to save Emma from Natasha. Ethan took a deep breath and did his best to focus on Emma.

“Look deeper,” Natasha urged, in that strange, soothing way of hers. “Past the superficial. You have the same eyes, you know. The same bone structure too. Same cheekbones. And your mouths - yes, those are definitely the same.”

“I dunno,” Ethan demurred. His bone structure? He couldn’t really picture it, although as he looked at Emma, it was easy to imagine that it was similar to hers. That seemed about right. “But… does it matter? I was asking Em about why she-“

“We’re getting to that,” Natasha interrupted smoothly. “Promise. Just listen, OK? I’ll explain everything.”

Ethan was mollified by that. An explanation was exactly what he wanted. He didn’t trust Natasha to tell him the truth, of course. Not really. He’d just have to pay close attention until he could figure out what kind of game she was playing.

“Like looking in a mirror,” Natasha mused. “Your expressions, too. So similar. I bet that’ll make it even clearer. Emma, smile for me.” She did so, the corners of her mouth pulling up into a blissed-out smile that matched the dazed, drunken, contented look in her eyes. “You too, Ethan. Let’s compare.”

After a brief moment of hesitance, Ethan smiled. It would have been harder not to, really. When he looked at his sister smiling, it made him want to smile too. Smiles were infectious, some people said. That must have been it. And besides, he reasoned afterward, he wanted to keep Natasha talking. It was best that he go along with this nonsense for now.

“See?” Natasha sounded vindicated. “Exactly the same. The same smile. Don’t you think so, Ethan?”

Ethan looked closely at Emma’s mouth, at her lips, at their shape. Was it the same? Did his smile feel like that? Look like that? “I’m… not…”

“Look closer. Really look.”

He did. “M… maybe?”

“Yes,” Natasha told him. It was hard to disagree when she sounded so sure. “It’s the same.”

Ethan still wasn’t sure. “I… I’d need to check. In a mirror, or something.”

Natasha laughed at that. “No mirror in here. But I bet you can just imagine a mirror. When was the last time you looked in a mirror? This morning, when you shaved? Think back, Ethan. Did you smile, for a moment? I bet you did. Look at Emma, and remember that moment. Imagine that moment.”

Ethan’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t really interested in indulging this absurd train of thought, but it was proving hard not to. It was a bit like trying not to think about a pink elephant. If you tried not to, that meant you already were. As he stared straight ahead at Emma, it was remarkably easy to imagine that he was looking into a mirror. That her face was a mirror image of his own. And when he thought about it like that, her smile did indeed seem like a perfect fit for his face.

“I guess…” Ethan admitted slowly. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Yes!” Natasha laughed. “I’m so glad you see. Emma, you can stop smiling now.”

Emma’s smile faded as her face relaxed back into a look of blank, dull, vaguely happy sleepiness. How many glasses of wine had she had? She looked seriously out of it. Ethan was a little worried for her. As he looked, his own face relaxed too. His smile faded, and his eyelids suddenly turned remarkably heavy. He supposed he hadn’t had any less to drink than Emma had.

“I think I’ve just about made my point,” Natasha said. Her smile was still so very wide. “You too look almost exactly the same. Identical twins.”

“Yeah,” Ethan agreed reflexively, before he caught the mistake. “Wait, no, that-“

“Oh, that’s right! Thank you for reminding me.” Natasha interrupted. Ethan was glad she understood. “We weren’t just talking about that, were we? We were talking about hypnosis.”

Ethan was about to open his mouth, to correct her about them being identical twins, but he didn’t. It just seemed easier to let her talk.

“But, you see,” Natasha continued, “I bet if you’re identical physically, you’re identical in other ways too. It stands to reason. After all, how you respond to hypnosis is as much a part of your body as it is your mind. Let me show you. Emma?”

Emma looked just a touch more alert as Natasha called her name, but that didn’t last long. Natasha reached up with one hand and caressed the side of her face, the tips of her nails just barely kissing Emma’s skin. It was so close, Ethan couldn’t quite tell if she was touching her or not.

But she must have been, because Emma’s reaction was remarkable. Her eyelids suddenly flickered up and down, and her eyes seemed to roll up into her head. Her shoulders slumped, and she looked like she might have fallen forward without Natasha’s supporting arm around her shoulder. It was like her soul had departed her body, leaving nothing behind but a blank, empty void.

This was hypnosis. That was obvious, even to Ethan.

“What the…” Ethan breathed.

Was this how Natasha was controlling Emma? He wouldn’t have believed it until this very moment.

But the moment didn’t last. Once Natasha drew back her hand, light slowly returned to Emma’s eyes - although not all of it. She looked completely dazed at first, but eventually she grinned, and blushed, and squirmed a little more. Ethan blushed too.

“It’s a particular weakness of hers,” Natasha explained. “Touch. A gentle touch, right there on her face. You have no idea how easy it is to put her in a trance that way. Don’t you think it would work just as well on you?”

“N-no.” Ethan tried to shake his head a little, but found that he couldn’t. “There’s… no way I’d-“

“You know, it’s real tempting to find out.” Natasha tilted her head.

Ethan’s breath caught. “You can’t do th-“

“Don’t worry.” Natasha kept interrupting him like that. It was annoying, but Ethan couldn’t muster the energy to protest. “I’m not going to hypnotize you. We’re just talking, OK?”

“OK.” Ethan relaxed, reassured.

“But just look closely,” Natasha urged, raising her hand to Emma again. “Look, and imagine. Imagine what it might feel like if someone were to touch you like this.”

She began caressing Emma again in just the same way, stroking her fingertips across her cheek. Emma, once again, was rapturous. Seeing her react like that made Ethan shiver.

“It’s the lightness of the touch that matters, you know,” Natasha went on. “That’s the trick. When you just barely touch someone like this, it’s confusing. The nerves under their skin aren’t quite sure if they’re feeling something or not. It captures all of your attention. Makes you shiver. You’ve been touched like that before, right?”

Ethan just barely managed to nod. He felt like he knew what she was talking about.

“Good.” Natasha moved her hand back up, ready to repeat the motion. “Then you know what I mean. You can remember it. Imagine it. Can’t you?”

This time, when her fingertips kissed Emma’s skin, Ethan gasped. He could feel it. He could actually feel it. It was faint, more like a phantom sensation than a real touch… but that was just what Natasha had been talking about, wasn’t it? Focusing on it didn’t banish the illusion; just the opposite, in fact. Ethan found his whole world consumed by that gentle, phantom touch. It left him shivering, free of thought, struggling to figure out what was real and what wasn’t.

“There we go,” Natasha noted approvingly. “You’re imagining it. I can tell. So now, I’m sure, you can imagine just how relaxing this must be for Emma. The way it makes her mind so very still and quiet. You know the feeling.”

It was true. Ethan did. He could picture it vividly. As he was thinking, he noted that even though Natasha was touching the left side of his sister’s face, he could feel it on his right. A mirror image.

“See?” Natasha said. “It’s potent, isn’t it? Maybe if someone did this to you, you’d be hypnotized too.”

Ethan’s brow furrowed - but then unfurrowed. It didn’t feel right. Emma’s brow wasn’t furrowed.

“Like looking in a mirror, Ethan,” Natasha reminded him. “Identical. Remember that. You’re the same. Look at how deep she is. Look at her eyes. Look at how she feels. You’d be the same way, if you could feel this.”

Once more, she stroked the side of Emma’s face. Ethan shivered at her touch.

“See the light fading from her eyes, Ethan.” Natasha’s voice was like a song. It was as gentle as her caress. But there was a power to it; an undertow, irresistible. “Can you see that? Can you see that in your eyes, reflected in Emma’s? That reflection, fading, just like she is? Weakening? Sinking?”

Ethan could. He really could. It was just like looking in a mirror. They’d always had the same eyes. Everyone said so.

“Then that settles it,” Natasha concluded. “You’re just as weak to hypnosis as she is.”

It was hard to disagree. It was hard, because Ethan just couldn’t seem to think. He struggled, briefly, to muster some resistance, to find the words for a rejoinder, but it all melted away when Natasha touched the side of Emma’s face - of his face - again.

“Identical twins,” Natasha sang. “Look at the twin in the mirror, Ethan. Look how deep she is. Look how deep you are.”

Ethan couldn’t seem to find the fault in her words. They just washed over him. He couldn’t avert his eyes from Emma. He was just staring at her, searching her face for differences. There were none. Not really. Not that were anything but superficial. The deeper resemblances - those were all that stood out to him now.

They truly were identical. At least, in all the ways that mattered.

“And, you know, if you’re a mirror of each other, you can’t possibly be different,” Natasha pointed out. “That wouldn’t make any sense. So, if I…”

She leaned in and whispered something in Emma’s ear. Ethan couldn’t make out the words.

“Three,” Natasha started counting. Something within Ethan tensed in anticipation. “Two. One. Now.”

On her mark, Emma started raising her right arm into the air, up to the level of her shoulder, moving in a slow, smooth, almost robotic way. It was obvious she wasn’t moving by her own volition, but by Natasha’s; more than anything else, it was like watching someone pose a mannequin.

Ethan was captivated, and as he watched, something strange happened. A growing sense of lightness, of buoyancy, started swelling in his left arm and, after a moment, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and realized that he was lifting it into the air. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t even known he was doing it. But somehow, it just felt right. It was automatic, and trying to force his arm back down again seemed like it would take more effort than he could possibly muster. Before he knew it, Ethan’s arm was up to his shoulder, and he was mirroring Emma’s pose.

He was stunned. It was like magic, and it just confirmed what Natasha had been telling him. Looking at Emma was like looking in the mirror. They were identical. They were reflections. It was undeniable now. Ethan certainly couldn’t see a way to deny it. He felt just as blank and dumb as Emma looked - and that was perfect. That was how it should be.

They were twins. They were the same.

“You understand now, don’t you?” Natasha said softly. “You’re identical. You’re a mirror of each other.”

Ethan did. He wanted to nod, but he couldn’t. Emma wasn’t nodding.

“Say it,” Natasha instructed. “You’re identical.”

Ethan looked into Emma’s eyes. Blank as they were, there was a kind of mutual recognition there. A tacit understanding of their place and their rhythm, and perhaps thanks to that, at the very same moment, they opened their mouths.

“We’re identical.”

They spoke in one voice, soft and dreamy, two layers of speech in perfect harmony. Natasha looked like she was having the time of her life as she fed Emma the next line:

“You’re the same.”

“We’re the same.” Two voices. One voice.

It was even easier, the second time. It felt perfectly natural. They were identical twins, after all.

“You’re mirror images.”

“We’re mirror images.”

“Good,” Natasha said approvingly. “But, you know, there’s something important about mirror images. They look the same, but they’re not really the same. They can’t be. One is the real thing. One is just a reflection.”

She was right, Ethan realized. But what did that mean for him and Emma?

“Ethan,” Natasha said, once more raising her hand to Emma’s face. “You can feel this. We both know it.”

She caressed Emma again - this time, on the opposite side of her face. Ethan shivered, and all the little hairs on his skin stood to attention. Each time, the phantom sensation got stronger and stronger. By now, it was no different than if she’d simply been touching Emma. And each time, Natasha’s touch made Ethan feel a little dreamier, a little more docile, a little more mindless.

“You can feel it,” Natasha repeated, as she repeated the motion. “But I’m only touching Emma. Don’t you think that’s funny?”

Ethan didn’t know what to say - not that he could say anything at all, not when Emma wasn’t talking. It wouldn’t be right.

“I can touch her. But you feel it. If you touch someone who’s looking at a mirror, you can see your hand in their reflection. But if you touch the mirror, they don’t feel anything at all. Isn’t that right?”

Ethan could clearly see that it was. He was waiting with bated breath for Natasha to help him understand.

“I guess that must mean that you’re the reflection,” Natasha concluded. “And Emma here is the real deal.”

Hearing that made Ethan’s heart quicker. He was… just a reflection? What did that mean? He wasn’t a reflection, was he? He was a person. He was his own person - well, kind of. He and Emma had always been two of a kind, not just one. They were identical twins. But still. Surely he was more than just a reflection?

Ethan was about to insist on that - but then Natasha touched Emma again, this time in the center of her forehead. Inch by inch, she moved her hand down, over the bridge of her nose, then the tip, and then across her lips to her chin, all so gently she was just barely stroking the tiny hairs on her skin.

And Ethan felt it all.

With that touch, his protest broke apart like shattering glass. The pieces, slippery and ephemeral, slipped between the cracks of his hypnotized mind. He lost track of everything that he’d been thinking. Of everything he’d been worrying about. Ethan was left with nothing but the simple, rapturous pleasure of Natasha’s touch. It was so gentle and perfect, it transformed him into nothing more than a lightning rod for that blissful, simple joy.

Once it passed, he was nothing. He was empty.

“You’re the reflection,” Natasha told him. “And Emma is the real thing.”

Those words poured into the emptiness of Ethan’s mind. He was grateful for them. They made him full. They made everything make sense again.

He was a reflection. Nothing more. He didn’t know what that meant yet. But he was safe and secure in the knowledge that Natasha was going to tell him.

“And what does a reflection do?” Natasha mused aloud. “It reflects. That’s all.”

Ethan reflected Emma. He was Emma’s reflection. It was perfectly simple.

“That’s what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” Natasha pointed out. “And that’s good. You’re a very good reflection.”

Natasha was right. Ethan was reflecting Emma. Mirroring her. Her pose. Her movement. Her speech. Her feelings. Her trance. Knowing that, hearing Natasha’s praise, filled him with a faint, warm glow.

“But,” Natasha added, “you’re not perfect. And a mirror image has to be perfect.”

The glow faded. Ethan was crestfallen. A mirror had to be perfect. Mirrors couldn’t be wrong. If he wasn’t perfect, it was like he wasn’t a reflection at all - and that just wasn’t right.

“After all,” Natasha went on, “your hair isn’t the same, is it? And you’re not wearing makeup. Your skin is that little bit rougher. No skincare, I guess. It’s a shame.”

It really was. Ethan had pointed out many of those same differences before, but now they filled him with unbearable sorrow. What was he, if not a reflection of Emma? Nothing. Nothing at all. What was he going to do?

“Would you like me to fix that for you?” Natasha asked, before leaning close to Ethan’s sister. “Say ‘yes’, Emma.”

“Yes,” Emma said - and Ethan did too, of course, at the very same moment.

He meant it. His sorrow was turning to yearning. He needed to bridge the gap between himself and Emma. And… Natasha could do it? He was so grateful.

“I’d be glad to,” Natasha replied graciously. “Wait here a moment, Emma.”

She managed to extract herself from the couch without disturbing Emma, who remained sitting perfectly still. Ethan did too. Natasha didn’t need to tell him to do that. It stood to reason. He was Emma’s reflection.

When Natasha reappeared in the corner of Ethan’s view, she was holding in her hands a couple of combs and brushes. She sat down again, this time behind Ethan. That struck Ethan, but he couldn’t figure out why. He couldn’t think. Emma looked totally mindless and hypnotized. She wasn’t thinking.

“Here.” Ethan felt Natasha pulling out the hair tie he used to keep his simple ponytail in place. “Let me.”

She started brushing his hair, and Ethan did his best to stay frozen still, like a reflection should. Her touch was as gentle as it had been when she was caressing Emma. It felt wonderful, and made it that much easier for Ethan to remain calm and relaxed. He’d never had his hair brushed before, but he liked it. It felt good.

He noticed that Emma looked like she was feeling good too.

After a few minutes of careful brushing with one implement after another, Natasha was done. She sat back and stood up.

“There,” she announced. “Much better. Almost perfect, in fact. After a trip to a stylist, it’ll be spot-on.”

Ethan could see his own hair falling around the sides of his face now. It looked wavy and sleek - Natasha’s brushing must have neatened it up and helped it regain its natural shapeliness. He didn’t need to look in a mirror, of course. He could just look at Emma. He knew they were the same.

"Next,” Natasha said, as she reached down to Emma’s handbag, “makeup. I know just how Emma does it.”

With painstaking care, she started doing Ethan’s. First, foundation, then concealer and contouring, and then the finer touches: eyeshadow, eyeliner, lipstick, blush. It was clear she was well-practiced.

“I’m not doing it exactly like hers, of course,” she commented as she worked. “You need a few extra touches. A little heavier on the foundation, a little more contouring. Feminizing makeup. Don’t worry. You’ll learn how.”

Ethan absorbed that without question. He was in heaven. Each touch of Natasha’s fingertips, each stroke of her makeup brush, felt wonderful - and the best part was knowing that, with each passing moment, he was getting closer and closer to becoming Emma’s true reflection. To being exactly what he was supposed to be.

“Perfect!” Natasha announced, and sat back. “If I do say so myself.”

Ethan didn’t need a mirror to know how he looked. He was the mirror, and the real thing was right in front of him. He knew exactly how he looked: wonderfully, unmistakably feminine. He could have passed for a girl. He hoped he did. He needed to pass for Emma.

“Clothes, mannerisms…” Natasha sighed dreamily. “I guess there’ll be time for that later. For now… hm. You know, ‘Ethan’ doesn’t really suit you anymore.”

That didn’t bother Ethan. He no longer felt any real attachment to the name. Reflections didn’t have names. Not really.

“It’s really tempting to just call you ‘Emma’ too.” Natasha giggled. “But I think that would get confusing. How about… Ella.” She giggled again. “Emma and Ella. Perfect.” Natasha reached back and stroked the side of Emma’s face as she addressed him directly. “Your name is Ella.”

Ella shivered as that suggestion worked its way through her mind. She didn’t doubt or question it. Reflections didn’t have names, but Natasha had given her one, so she did. Simple.

Ella. It was practically a reflection of Emma.

And it was her name.

“OK, Ella,” Natasha said. “You just stay there for one moment. No need to wake up. No need to think. Just sit there, nice and calm, nice and still. Like… like a reflection, when no one’s looking in the mirror. Just be nothing.”

It was easy. Being nothing was easy. What was a reflection anyway? Light on the surface of a mirror. Nothing.

“Emma.” Natasha turned to Ella’s twin. “Three. Two. One. Wake up.”

Over several seconds, as Natasha counted, Emma stirred. When Natasha told her to wake, her eyelids flickered rapidly again, just as they had when she’d first hypnotized her. Then they opened, and for the first time in minutes, they contained a spark of life and awareness. It took a few long moments for the fog to clear, but once it did and she saw what had been done to Ella, Emma gasped.

“Nat, you… you actually…” Her entire face suddenly became flushed. “Oh my god.”

Natasha laughed, and threw herself down on the couch behind her girlfriend. Both of them were staring at Ella. She hadn’t stirred.

“Yeah, I hypnotized him,” Natasha replied. “The asshole was practically begging for it.”

“D-don’t say that!” Emma was trying to sound cross, but she couldn’t manage it; her voice was shuddery, and full of a strange excitement. “He was just looking out for his kid sister.”

“You should have told him it was too late,” Natasha purred, slipping a possessive arm around her waist. “That I’ve already got you. But you didn’t - and now I have him, too.”

Emma gasped breathlessly. “T-that’s so… fucked up.”

“Don’t look at me,” Natasha mocked. “You’re the one getting off on it.”

At that, Emma let out a high-pitched whine of protest that dissolved entirely into a moan as Natasha’s hand pressed insistently against the front of her dress. “N-n-not fair! Y-you made… me f-find fucked-up stuff like that h-hot.”

“That’s right.” There was a wicked glint in Natasha’s eyes. “Even the fucked-up stuff I did to you. Too hot to resist. Too hot to even want to.”

Emma was too far gone to even protest now. She just moaned and slumped against Natasha, unable to fight the predatory hypnotist.

“Hey, watch this,” Natasha said, and addressed Ella again. “Ella, see how turned on Emma is right now?”

Ella did. Now that Natasha had drawn her attention to it, it was obvious. Emma was flushed and squirming, she was breathing hard, and whenever Natasha touched her, she moaned.

“Time to be her reflection again, Ella.”

As soon as Natasha said that, it hit Ella. The heat. The arousal. It was physical and immediate, just like when Natasha had stroked Emma’s face. Ella started panting and felt her face grow hot. Within moments, she was just as horny as Emma looked. The only major difference was that, in Ella’s case, the arousal was also visible as a distinct, swelling bulge between her legs.

Natasha laughed when Emma moaned at the twisted display.

“W-what are you gonna do to him?” Emma breathed. “T-the same thing… y-you did to me?”

“What?” Natasha teased. “Make him a lesbian? Make him love me?”

Each possibility got a fresh moan from Emma’s lips. She looked unbelievably turned on - and so did Ella.

“Maybe,” Natasha mused. “You know me, babe. I’m impulsive. But I do like the idea of keeping you both. A nice little matching pair. Your “brother” is staying down here for… what? A week? That’s plenty of time for some fun.”

Her hand was up under Emma’s skirt, touching her directly. She was putty in Natasha’s arms. Natasha had made her so hopelessly weak and submissive.

“But for now, let’s give your new sister a finishing touch,” Natasha decided. She reached into one of the pockets of her jacket and pulled out a pill bottle, opened the lid, and poured one out into her palm. “I can spare a few HRT doses. Hey, Ella, open your- wait, no. I have a better idea. Emma, here.”

Emma looked at her curiously and, before she could say anything, Natasha fed her the pill. Emma almost choked, but immediately accepted Natasha’s fingers into her mouth.

“Don’t swallow,” Natasha instructed, before grinning. “Now. Kiss the mirror, babe.”

Emma’s eyes flew wide, and her cheeks turned a deeper red than ever before at the sheer, taboo thrill of what Natasha was intending. She shook her head a couple of times - but after the time Natasha had spent in her head, she was no longer capable of saying ‘no’.

Ella had no reaction at all as, slowly and trepidatiously, Emma stretched out toward her. For some reason, she expected Emma’s lips to feel cold - but they didn’t, the kiss was white-hot. Driven by her own arousal, Emma kissed her twin passionately, lips pressed eagerly against hers in a desperate bid to sate her hunger. The taboo only made it hotter. Ella, of course, mirrored every little bit of her passion - and accepted the pill Emma passed into her mouth through the kiss.

Natasha just laughed as she watched the two sisters making out for her own sick amusement.

“Good girl,” she praised when Emma finally drew back. Emma blushed again. “God. You have no idea how hot it is, watching you kiss. My very own matching pair.”

“Y-yeah.” Emma couldn’t even bring herself to disagree anymore. She had been molded into a willing accomplice.

“OK, Ella,” Natasha said, “I think it’s time to wake up for tonight.”

She snapped her fingers.

Ella almost slipped off the touch. He - she - could barely remember where she was. She just stared at Natasha and Emma, baffled by the lurid looks on their faces.

“W-what?” she said embarrassed. “What… happened?”

“I just hypnotized you,” Natasha told her. “Guess it works just as well on you as it does on Emma.”

“Oh.” It was starting to come back to her now. They’d been arguing about it. For some reason, Ella had been agitated about… something. About Natasha? That seemed right, but then it seemed very wrong.

After all, Emma loved Natasha. Why would Ella feel any different?

“I hate to say I told you so,” Natasha teased. “But…”

“Fine! You got me,” Ella confessed. She shifted around on the couch a little, trying to hide the huge bulge in her pants. Why was she hard?

“So… what’s my prize?” Natasha pressed.

“Your prize?” Ella blinked, confused. “Um… what do you want?”

Natasha made a big show of contemplating the question, before answering: “I think my prize is, I get to take you clothes shopping tomorrow.”

Emma giggled. “Watch out, Eth- I mean, uh, Ella. You just know she’s going to make us match. She’s kind of obsessed with it.”

Ella blushed. Hearing that made her feel strange, somehow. Tranquil. Needy. She nodded submissively.

“I guess I should have known better,” she murmured. “We’ve always been identical twin sisters.”

---

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Akira Nishikiyama | NSFW A-Z

Rating: 18+ SMUTTY CONTENT Character(s): (After the Turn) Akira Nishikiyama Warning: When I do these, they act sort of as my guidelines that I follow for when I am writing smut of the character in question. Obviously, these are headcanons but some of these headcanons are lore heavy- based on things I’ve come up with over the years. Privately or publicly. If something seems out of character or doesn’t make sense to you, that may be why! I hope you can try to enjoy it anyway. There will be mentions of casual sex as well as sex within a committed relationship. Akira can be detached and mean. Bear in mind that while gender neutral pronouns and terms of endearment are used, this was written with female anatomy in mind. 

Using the following NSFW HEADCANON GAME by fairy-tail-babes

Read on AO3!

Read the 'Before The Turn' version if you haven't already. (or read it after this one as aftercare LOL)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

At this point in his life, he’s at his most touch starved and emotionally unavailable. It’s a wicked combination and entirely self-inflicted. He’s not above bringing people to bed simply to relieve his pent up sexual frustration. He doesn’t even have to like the person as an individual, he just needs to be attracted to them enough to get whatever he’s built up out of his system. Once he’s done with them, he wants them out of his sight. He’ll point them to the nearest bathroom and send them on their way with a half-hearted mention of calling them some time. On the bright side (?), he’s not so cold with the person who manages to crack this newly hardened shell of his, though. He’s far more affectionate with the individual he’s got feelings for. He wants them as close to him as humanly possible after. Depending on his position, he might even take a while to pull out. He’d fully settle for going soft in them until he’s gotten his fill of their warm with plenty of greedy kisses in the meantime.  

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn’t really have much of a favorite part of himself around this point. He’s sort of just going through the motions every day. He looks in the mirror and he sees a man staring back at himself that looks like him but is still somehow so unfamiliar. Most of his vanity is a farce. Even if there was a part of himself he did enjoy more than others, the nagging thought that there’s still room for improvement would drown his positives. 

He likes a nice back. A “nice” back doesn’t always necessarily mean toned and slender– When he thinks of a partner with an attractive back, he imagines pretty, clear skin that looks downright erotic when it’s coated in sweat, sometimes back dimples and especially a nice, deep arch– bonus points if that arch leads his eyes to a gorgeous ass. He tends to prefer that meaningless hook-ups face away from him, so that’s how he came to develop this appreciation. Even when he’s with a serious romantic interest, he’ll slip into backshots at some point just so he can show their back some love– licking it, kissing it and digging his nails into it depending on how far gone he is.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He’s pretty much always using a condom. He’s even less open to the idea of an accidental pregnancy than he was in the past (which is saying a lot). Not only that, just because he’s brought someone to bed doesn’t mean he trusts them. There are two instances in which he’d forego protection: 1.) he has genuine intent to try and knock this person up, or 2.) he feels so strongly about them that it’s shaken him up and he’s lost all logic. He’d be acting off pure urge and instinct, reaching for protection would disrupt that. Having said all of that, he does tend to snatch his condom off anyway when he’s about to cum and jerk himself off because he’s a painter. He’ll ensure his partner’s back is painted beautifully by the time he’s done with them. If he can’t get to their back, no worries, he’ll just give them a facial. Clenching their cheeks, he will simply command “Open.” then challenge himself to see how much he can actually get to land in their mouth.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has a nice polaroid camera and the best home video camera money can buy and while it wasn’t the original intent behind the purchase, they certainly have become useful in the bedroom. He likes to record his partner and go back to the polaroids or videos he’s collected when he misses them or is just horny. His favorite types of pictures to take are when he has them press their head against the bed, floor, etc and arch until their ass is nice and high after he’s coated them in cum.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

While he doesn’t have as much sex these days as he did a while back, he’s garnered enough experience to know how to show someone a good time if he wanted to. That’s just the key word: Want. Sometimes he cares so little about the enjoyment of the other person and more so about getting off that, all of his previous experience is sorta irrelevant. 

F = Favorite Position (Links to literal porn. Use your own discretion.)

His favorite positions generally include him taking his partner from behind. Obviously, doggystyle is a classic and one can never go wrong with that. He likes them face down, ass up– many times while pressing their face into the sheets/pillow or whatever surface he’s fucking them against. Sometimes, he’ll rail them from behind while holding a fist full of their hair. If he’s feeling a little lazy or maybe just wanting to relinquish control for a bit, he may put them in reverse-cowgirl or the hotseat. When he’s wanting something closer and more intimate with his partner, he’d spoon them if he can or maybe try the flatiron.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It takes a special kind of person to get him to smile or laugh while he’s getting busy. He sort of zones in and shuts out everything except the hole he’s fucking. If his partner is able to bring him out of that, and get him to even crack a smile, let alone laugh– well, color him intrigued. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He doesn’t keep himself as maintained as he used to. He’s not particularly hair down there anyway. The hair just grows kinda long and thick. He trims every once in a while but unless it’s hot out, he doesn’t care to stay on top of upkeep. Perhaps if he was in a committed relationship, he’d try to trim more regularly? 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

Deep down, he has an intense craving for intimacy and love but he doesn’t look to satisfy those desires with just anyone. He could fuck someone and barely look them in the eye during or after. He is rigid when a hookup touches him– stiff, and other than to push/pull or smack them around, he’s not doing much touching himself. When he’s caressing his partner's hair/face/body, whispering things to them (no matter how sweet or downright filthy), guiding their face to have them meet his eyes, practically begging them to say his name and melting into their touch, they’ll know for sure that he’s absolutely smitten with them. He hates that he becomes so weak when he’s in love but, he’d be telling a bold faced LIE if he said he doesn’t secretly revel in it.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Work stresses him beyond belief, life even more so and sometimes his mind gets so cloudy and his shoulders so tense that he needs some quick relief to put him at ease. He’ll do it when he’s wound up but also when he’s immensely horny and cannot be bothered to deal with another person. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks -also adding fetishes-)

Impact play- He’s got a habit of slapping and smacking his partners while he’s fucking them. Be it their face or body– sometimes he just gets the itch to light them up and listen to them whine. 

Partialism- As previously mentioned, a pretty back can really get him squirming in his seat. If his partner is wearing something that showcases theirs, he won’t be able to keep his hands off of them and would be about ready to pounce the moment they have some time alone.

Pussy worship- While he doesn’t put as much effort into pleasing every person he beds, his love for pussy hasn’t gone away. He still craves the taste, smell and feeling of a pretty pussy against his tongue and face. Tasting his partners always brought out a side of him that he decided he should be a bit more selective with who he shows that to.

JOI- Especially over the phone when he can’t get to his partner– getting to hear their voice and have them tell him what to do really gets him going. While he’s certainly a brat about it, he likes it when they’re kinda bossy and mean. 

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Wherever the pants fall, this is something that has not and may never change. While he’s quick to get a room somewhere to handle his business or call his lover to his place, it’s not above him to have a romp or two in his office. In fact, if the desire strikes mid-day, he may summon his partner to his office just to take them against his desk and then send them back on their way. 

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Confidence, especially when said confidence keeps them from buckling under him. Someone who refuses to allow him to intimidate them. Everyday, he’s walking around on a constant power trip. Men duck their heads to him when he simply walks into a room. Women avert their eyes. He’s nearly forgotten what it’s like to not be taken seriously and while it may tick him off initially, he’d still find it interesting. He’d want to know what it would take to crack them. Another thing would be someone who isn’t afraid to try and take control. He prefers to be in control of everything but someone who fights against that– some who can tame him? He’d buckle.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation is a no go. While he is intrigued by someone who can take the reins and make him follow their lead from time to time, he draws the line at being made to feel small. The thing about temporarily surrendering to someone is knowing that when he wants to be in charge again, he can and will. Deep, deep down, no matter how hard of a face he puts on, he’s still that young, insecure boy inside. He’s not into anything that triggers those feelings. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

If he’s single, he’s definitely receiving more than he’s giving which sucks. Like, sure, he enjoys the feel of a warm tongue swirling around the head of his dick but nothing will ever compare to the pleasure he feels while fisting his dick as he eats out his s/o. He’s not sure when he stopped doing it as often as he used to but he knows why he did. He often mourns the feeling of having a sloppy, wet cunt gliding across his face, thighs trembling against his cheeks and when he can’t take it anymore and the craving is too severe, he does know who he can call to get it out of his system. Once he’s in a relationship or even just kinda getting serious about someone, he’s reminded of why he preserves his talent. He becomes a noisy, weepy mess when he’s thrusting into his fist at the same pace that he uses to fuck his lover with his tongue. It’s not uncommon for him to call his s/o to his office just so that he can kneel beside the desk he’s sat them on and absolutely go to town on them. Sometimes getting to go home to drown his face in his darling’s sweet pussy is all that’s keeping him going. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Sometimes he’s so rough, one may feel they’re being hatefucked by him. So often, he’s full of pent up rage that he just has to fuck it out. He’s yanking hair, biting, digging his nails into skin, spanking as if he intends to bruise. That’s why he makes sure his partner knows what they’re getting themselves into before he fucks them. Even when he’s ‘making love’ to someone, there’s still a level of intensity that is fierce as it is sensuous. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not only can a quickie be all he has time for, sometimes it’s really all he wants. If his partner is cool with foregoing the buildup and dropping their underwear at a moment’s notice, then consider them his perfect match. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s open to a lot of things so long as it doesn’t include knocking up a random or has the potential to damage the perception of the Nishikiyama family name. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His stamina is still pretty high. He can last for about as long as he’d like to last so long as he’s not too pent up and the sexual tension between him and his partner isn’t extremely thick. He’s got to want to last, though. When nothing but the need to bust a nut is what’s driving him, he can be done in 10 minutes or less. Once is enough in general, but the right significant other can bring the insatiability right out of him. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He likes to incorporate toys from time to time. He has toys that he owns that he’d use on his partners if they’re open to it and then he also sends toys along with lingerie as gifts, wrapped all pretty and topped with a bow that he’d like to see or hear them use on themselves. Vibrators are fun, he’s more open to dildos than he used to be but his favorite things to play with are those he uses to explore his interest in impact play: floggers, riding crops…whips. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can certainly be a tease when he wants to be. His teasing borders on degradation given the right circumstances. He especially likes to tease when he’s treating his partner harshly and they’re lost with how much they’re enjoying. He loves to see it but his mouth would tell a different story. He’d tease them for enjoying being ragdolled and treated like a worthless fleshlight. He’d make them beg for more, or beg to cum, anything really. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

His volume is pretty moderate. He does a lot of grunting– moaning, when he’s really emotionally invested. He talks and he wants his partner to talk back to him. He’s urging them to tell him how he makes them feel, he wants to hear where his dick is, he’s commanding them to declare who they belong to and most importantly, he’s making them call his name. He’s probably at his most noisy when he’s performing oral. It’s the #1 surefire way to hear him moan like a bitch…It’s fascinating. It should be studied, truly.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

While he loves to see his partner dolled up in some sexy lingerie, something about them going out with no underwear turns him on beyond belief. Once, he took a girl to dinner and at some point during, she excused herself to the restroom. When she returned, she stuffed the panties she’d been wearing (the panties he’d bought for her) in his pocket. He had to spend the remainder of the dinner fighting the desire to dive beneath the table and between her legs to make her cry by riling him up like that. If he notices his partner has decided to forego underwear while they’re out and about, he won’t be able to keep his hands off of them. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s a bit over 4 ½ inches and girthy, with a tasteful upright curve from the center up. The shaft itself is a warm tan color but the head is bright pink. When he’s aroused, that pink appears more reddish. He may be on the smaller side but he knows exactly how to use it. He leaves his partners trembling after using that same 4 incher to abuse their g-spot. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He’s more stressed than he is horny. Many times he finds himself fucking with the intent to blow off some steam rather than because he was aroused. It often leaves him feeling empty. He notices that he feels genuinely more horny when he’s in a relationship and feels more fulfilled after sex with his s/o. Perhaps it’s because he allows himself to fully be in the moment that leaves him feeling recharged. He needs as much of that feeling as he can get.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s teetering toward being an insomniac, so sex doesn’t wipe him out like it used to. He could fuck for like 45 minutes, sweat out his pomade and still be up for hours after he’s cum. If he’s fallen asleep shortly after sex, it’s likely because he feels so at peace when he’s with that person that the thoughts that usually swirl and plague his mind are drowned out by the sound of their voice and/or breathing.

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite but likes and a reblog go a long way! Thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, you're welcome to check out more of my work! I have a masterlist to save you browse time!

[toxintouch]

Kinktober speedrun time! Used the Mirror prompt on this list. Thank you for the inspo! Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || Dom!Reader x Leander

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Reader, Mirror Use. Edging/Orgasm Denial + Light Degradation & Name calling (Leander being referred to as a dog but he’s really into it, promise) + Power Exchange & Sub/Dom Dynamics

OTHER INFO: Leander has a dick, anatomy of Reader/POV Character remains unspecified; "they" pronouns used.

Leander has the straight backed posture of a man who was given etiquette lessons.  His mannerisms speak of wealth and class, yet they can’t help but observe that he looks completely comfortable while down on his knees.

His back muscles flex as he works himself, sweat slipping down his spine, pooling in the dimples just above his ass.  He’s strung tight, the veins in his arms straining as he strokes a quick, even rhythm.  His dick is flushed a painful red, copious amounts of pre-cum dripping down his wrist and splattering onto his thick thighs, some of it even dirtying the floor below when his strokes become too enthusiastic.

(They wonder how best to make him clean it later–he does so love to be ordered to lick up his own mess–but this floor is probably just as filthy as anywhere else in the Wick, despite appearances–and they don’t think they can find it in themself to make use of his mouth again after watching that.)

The full length mirror hanging in front of Leander is a new addition to the room. Something they’d wheedled out of him with nothing but an easy promise, whispered into his ear down at the bar.  It was theirs not a full day later: a polished brass antique with a priceless clear finish.

His back is to them, but they can see everything they need to by gazing at his reflection.

His strokes stutter, faltering, and they watch as his abdominals jump rapidly. His hand makes a few more shaky attempts before he stops himself with a shudder, breathing hard and squeezing his cock at the base to cut off his own orgasm. They give a little hum of approval, waiting.

“Count.”  They prompt, when he fails to remember on his own.  

They watch his throat bob with effort as he swallows, his jaw trembling around his answer.  “Five.”

“Good boy,” they say, their voice flat and unrewarding.  Dismissive. "Guess that Hightown education really paid off for you, huh?" He whines at that, his palms slicking along his thighs, awaiting their instruction.  He glances at them in the mirror, eyes hopeful. “Again,” they prompt, “and keep your eyes on yourself until I tell you.  During, too. You were closing them a lot. It's just you and the mirror until you've earned otherwise.”

Bites his lip, beginning to stroke himself again.

The next edge comes more quickly.

His eyebrows draw up, mouth falling open, back arching.  His cock jumps and this time he falls back onto his hands to keep from giving into temptation.  His eyes travel the length of the mirror, his neck taught with tension as he pants.  They notice his gaze darting along their form for a moment, greedily stealing along their silhouette in the looking glass. A quick glance of the place where their legs are splayed open as they lounge on the bed behind him, toying with themself idly.

He’s back to form so seamlessly, he probably thinks they didn’t even notice. The next number falls out of his mouth without prompting, as if to cover for his earlier sleight.

"..."

“Baby,” he whines, fidgeting without further instruction. His fingers return to his dick when they don't reply, ghosting over his wet, swollen cockhead.  He knows they hate the way that epithet sounds in his voice, the condescending lilt he manages to wrap around the syllables. “Sweetheart. Please, may I–”

“Bad dog,” they admonish.  They don't elaborate–let him figure out for himself which breach of protocol they're scolding him for.

“Again. And if you can’t behave, I’ll have to put you outside.”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦Kinktober Speedrun on Ao3

Consider: this type of power play with yandere!Leander...you watching him when he's usually the one watching you...

[army93bangya]

The Moon Goddess’s Chosen | MYG [M]

TEASER CHAPTER/CHAPTER 1

*Summary: Y/N has been sheltered and hidden within her pack her whole life. She is gifted and her father the alpha of the pack does not want her to find her mate and leave the birth pack. But not even he can stop her from attending the mate gathering between many packs every year to find one’s fated mate. Y/N is worried what her father will do should her mate find her and try to take her. Add in the revelation that the talked about fairly new pack Bangtan will be in attendance this year. Rumored to be ruthless and their alpha heartless, Y/N has every reason to be concerned and riddled with anxiety.

*Genre/Rating: Mature, 18+, Werewolf/Fated mates, eventual smut? 🤔🤷🏻‍♀️

*Warnings/Potential Triggers: Talks of Abuse, Mistreatment, Being Detained, Anxiety, Mention of Murder, Mention of plotting Murder, Slight mention of Rape, Possible future Smut,….more to be added in future chapters.

*Disclaimer: This work was written and owned by Army93bangya and there is no consent for anyone else to post it as theirs, this story is intended for entertainment purposes only, this story is a work of fantasy, seems a bit ridiculous to say but I do not own or have rights to BTS or the members and the characters in this story are a fictional interpretation of members.

*Notes: WHEW! I had an idea that I had written in the notes on my phone a few years ago and I decided to dust it off and work on a teaser chapter for it. This is my first time writing and posting fanfiction so I’m thinking of this as a pilot chapter with hopefully more to come. I will take constructive criticism and any pointers from seasoned authors who might happen upon this. But I would like to point out that I am a person behind this blog and do have emotions so please do not post hateful things just because. Thank you to anyone that sees this post and takes the time to give this chapter a chance. 💜💜

Next Chapter

This was the first year I am to join the mate gathering. My father had put off me attending for as long as he could with all unmated wolfs mandatorily having to go at the age of 18. I’m now 21 having missed three gatherings. He did not want me to be able to find a mate of course he wanted my power all to himself. He is a evil greedy alpha if one should even give him the respect of that title.

He often has kept me locked up and secluded sometimes even going so far as to starve me periodically if I was to get out of his view of the line that I should never cross or thus the consequences. It is extremely rare for a wolf to be imbued additional powers of the moon goddess. Usually these mage wolfs only come about once every 300 to 500 years. Very rare indeed. When one is discovered they are to be honored, celebrated, and protected as their rightful place as the moon goddess’s direct line and will is placed in this wolf. I’ve heard that the goddess will create the perfect alpha mate for her mage wolf. The perfect protector to care for and cherish her chosen. But I never asked for this, all this power has brought upon me is pain and suffering from the ones I call my pack and family.

My father’s next in line, the wolf he has chosen to lead the pack next has taken a particular interest in me. Darius can be quite cruel, he enjoys trying to make me feel weak. He wants me to submit to him and be his chosen mate. But one can only expect cruelty being groomed by a wicked man like my father. He was never gifted a mate and instead raped my mother and had her killed after my birth when she tried to run with me.

The counsel of alphas knew of my existence and nothing else, every year my father had made some excuse as to why I could not attend feigning that I had been attacked and was recovering or was ill and sickly. But this year some of my fathers enemy alphas had put there foot down and demanded my father produce his daughter just like all the other wolves and receive no more special treatment. So here I am, getting ready for the mate gathering with our camp a few miles from the meeting area. One would think I would be elated at the idea of finding a fated mate. Not everybody finds the one fated for them and if I could find mine he could take me away from my father and this pack who has always treated me like a valuable object hidden from the rest of the world. Because of that I am filled with anxiety and unease for tonight. My father and his tyrannical protégé will never let me leave the pack even if they have to put on false masks of deceit pretending to be elated if I am to be bestowed a mate, only to plot for the rest of the evening how to get rid of my mate before he can take me away.

My best friend and maid Maddie, also an unmarked she-wolf, usually has all the gossip for me. Tonight while helping me with my hair she isn’t disappointing. From her standing position behind me while I sit in-front of a mirror the gossip I am always eager to hear starts. “Apparently that newer formed pack will be here tonight. I glance at her face concentrated on my hair before responding. “What new pack?” Her face takes on a uneasy expression. “Well they formed a few years back. Their alpha is said to be joining the counsel as well during the gathering this year and he does not have a mate. I heard he is cold and merciless, he and his 6 betas had every single member of the crimson pack killed. They slaughtered them all. I heard instead of the usual excitement and joy that comes with a mate gathering, every single she wolf is terrified of this “bangtan” pack. Nobody wants to possibly be mated into that pack, and you know a male leaving his pack for his mate is rare. It’s just not traditional.” The very thought of being mated in that pack or goddess forbid this rumored malevolent alpha petrified me. If my mate was strong and smart enough to get me away from my birth pack I don’t know what I would do if it was to another wolf like my father and his heir.

“What is this alphas name so I know to stay clear of his presence as best I can? I do not want to gain someone like that’s attention.” She fidgeting with one of my curls that didn’t want to stay in place “It is said the moon goddess must have blessed him because his physically strength far exceeds a normal alpha. I wonder why the moon goddess would bestow such a gift to a wolf so ruthless.” She sighs before looking at me through the mirror “His name is Yoongi. Min Yoongi.”

[thenightling]

The Supernatural and The Addams Family

One complaint I see a lot of about the Wednesday series on Netflix is "The Addams Family was grounded in reality. There was nothing supernatural about them! The Munsters were supernatural." Almost always someone will say "What about thing?" And comes the typical meme / joke response of "Well, they're just that Goth." Okay, outside of the disembodied hand that serves as a friend / pet / sex toy / lover (throw-away line in Addams Family Values about his relationship with Uncle Fester) here are some elements of The Addams Family that are definitely supernatural. 1. Uncle Fester is immune to electric shock, mercury poisoning (he ate an old thermometer) and other things that would kill most people. Not only that but he has his own high electrical charge where he can power a lightbulb with his mouth. This is all from the 1960s Addams Family TV series.

I won't bother to mention the kids surviving improbable scenarios since even in the movies there's usually a cut-away. 2. Grandmama is a practicing witch. In fact the lyrics of the 1960s Addams Family theme song include "So get a witch's shawl on, a broomstick you can crawl on." We're told that at least some members of the family are witches, if not all of them. Morticia's mother was played by Margret Hamilton (The Wicked Witch of the West in The wizard of Oz). Note: Morticia's mother and Grandmama are not the same character. When Grandmama curses Debbie in Addams Family: Values, her curse comes to pass later in the movie.

In The Addams Family Broadway musical there's even a joke line of "My mother? I thought she was your mother!" and Gomez and Morticia just shrug it off. She's theirs and that's all that matters. They just adopted the strange old woman who wants to be called Grandmama. 3. Morticia canonically has psychic powers in the 1960s Addams Family TV show. She has permeations, experiencing omens, and at one point felt it when someone stuck a pin in a map directly over their house. This is from the 1960s Addams Family TV series. This was not something invented for the Wednesday TV series. 4. In The Addams Family 1960s TV series Santa Claus is Canonically proven to be real. He shows up in the Christmas episdoe after each adult Addams dresses as Santa to try to make the kids happy.

5. Another witch in the family is mentioned in the Christmas episode. When the children were told that Santa isn't real, Gomez and Morticia reassure them by reminding them that they were also told that witches weren't real and they proved that wrong when they met a certain aunt. 6. Morticia's sister, Ophelia, in the 1960s Addams Family TV series has flowers growing out of her scalp. Flowers that Gomez is allergic to. This is actually partly the origin for Morticia cutting the flowers off her roses, Gomez is allergic to flowers.

7. Lurch may or may not be a zombie or Frankenstein style creature. Yes, the animated movie made him an escaped mental patient but the 90s Addams Family animated series gave him blue skin and a flat topped head, making him heavily resemble a Frankenstein monster. (Note: The Creature does not actually have a flat head in Mary Shelley's novel. This and the groaning is a movie trope.)

8. Cousin It.

9. In Addams Family the Broadway musical the Addams do a conga line with the ghosts of their ancestors.

10. Ophelia (Morticia's sister) is inhumanly strong (besides having flowers growing out of the top of her head.) She can flip Gomez onto his back with one hand. 11. Their library contains books that literally bring to life what's inside them. 12. Their house is definitely haunted. In the 2019 Addams Family animated series the House repeatedly told them to get out, and consumes coffee. Also Morticia refers to the entity as "The spirit." 13. Morticia talks to the ghosts of her parents In The Addams Family 2019 Addams Family animated movie. 14. There are singing severed heads in The Addams Family 2019 animated movie. 15. There is a sentient tree on the house grounds, named Ichabod. 16. Uncle Flambe has flame-hair. 17. Wednesday is able to control Pugsley via voodoo doll in The Addams Family 2 animated movie from 2021. 18. Wednesday was able to freak out another little girl by showing off that she can read minds when she wants to in Addams Family 2 the animated movie from 2021. 19. Lurch is indicated to have "cold dead" hands suggesting that at least in the Addams Family 2 animated movie from 2021 he is a zombie or Frankenstein-style monster. I know he has a mother in the 60s show but other incarnations don't seem to follow this. In the 2019 animated Addams Family movie Lurch seems to have escaped the insane asylum but the haunted insane asylum (which becomes The Addams Family house) had been abandoned for years, possibly decades. Bonus as this one is not confirmed. 20. The Addams' may or may not be immortal. In the 1990 Addams Family movie Gomez is trying to find Uncle Fester who has been missing twenty-five years. The 1990 Addams Family movie was deliberately released twenty-five years after the 1960s Addams Family series of the 1960s ended. There is continuity changes such as making Uncle Fester Gomez's brother instead of Morticia's uncle (pre-marriage) but otherwise the 90s Addams Family movies were meant to directly continue from the 1960s TV series. This means that in twenty-five-years no one aged. Not even the children. "Their Goth game is just that strong."

[googoobabajogwick]

John Wick NSFW Alphabet

i love my baby boomer....

18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

John will one hundred percent take care of you. Clean you up, cuddle, rub your back, feet or full body massage anyone? He likes to call it post orgasm affection after sex he feels so protective over you and thankful for you. He’ll do anything you want because during this time he feels closer to you than ever. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

This man likes whatever you like but if he had to pick he’s pretty skilled with his hands and he loves how they look when they are holding onto your hips or when his fingers are  pumping in and out of your pussy. 

John loves your hips or the small of your back or your thighs…. Does he have to pick just one? He believes your body was sculpted by a goddess and loves to worship every part of you. If he did have to choose it would probably be your hips. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Finds it way too degrading to cum anywhere but inside you, a condom or your mouth. Though, on the very rare occasion he may be willing to cum on your stomach or chest. Never the face though, he doesn’t know why but it feels extremely disrespectful to him. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

John loves you all natural.

Right before you shower, early in the morning or even after a hot day out in the sun. It feels like all you when he eats you out and licks you all over while you’re all sweaty, he blames it on his basic biology. How could he not be turned on by your natural scent and beauty? 

It may sound strange but it really is a basic animal instinct to be attracted to your mate's pheromones (aka loveee hormones). Although he won’t be as bold as Napoleon and ask you to not bathe, he won’t turn down an opportunity to try and get you in the mood before he knows you plan to shower that day. 

If you ever called him out on it he’d get all flustered and even start stuttering -- it is his literal dirty secret-- but if he sees you’re okay with it he gets very confident. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Get prepared to have sex ruined for you because nobody can do it like him. John Wick is THE man, myth and legend. He’s mastered all the ways to end people’s lives and ‘la petite mort’ is a ‘death’ form he's very familiar with. He will have you shaking, twitching, arching your back, pushing him away but pulling him back…

You’re a puzzle for him that he wants to crack. The prize? Knowing that it’s him who can and is doing it. John can make you forget your words, your eyes roll into the back of your head, make noises you thought were impossible and your neighbors hate you. He’s good at pacing himself too so be prepared for a long night.

Might want to bring your neighbors some cookies the next day if you ever have him over. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Loves when you ride him because he can sit back and watch just how beautiful you look bouncing up and down on his cock. John loves watching where the two of you connect it turns him on a lot. This position is also good for when he just wants to cuddle and both of you want the extra comfort with a bit of cockwarming. 

There’s also spooning because he can hold you tight in his arms. Under the covers, you don’t even have to move, let him grab your leg and hold it up for you. Don’t worry he’s got you and he’ll take good care of you. Early in the morning, sleepy and warm is the best sex he could ask for. 

Either way he wants to be close with you or to watch you intently because nothing is sexier to him but you. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Really depends. John would only joke around during sex if the woman he’s having sex with is his girlfriend. He doesn’t feel comfortable enough with strangers and one night stands to smile and goof around with them. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Yeah John definitely trims his pubic hair. He's a very well kept man but he’d never shave. It’s also something he doesn’t think about often as well so sometimes it gets a bit unkempt but that’s usually only during his leisure times in between hits. Why does he trim his pubic hair before a contract? You’ll never know. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

John’s very intimate. He’ll never feel closer to you than when he’s buried deep inside your pussy. He talks about how beautiful you are and kisses you all over while he fucks you hard. You’ll never feel more loved during sex than you do when you're making love with him. Multiple orgasms surrounded by his arms and words of encouragement leaves your mind and heart racing. Oh and of course your pussy throbbing. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jacking off was boring to him. Until he found you. 

Before it was for stress release. Fast and quick in the shower. He’d rest one arm and his forehead on the tile wall while the other stroked his cock until he came. The warmth from the water being the only thing to hold him. It’s too lonely for him. As much as he liked to be alone and is a quiet and private man, such pleasure should not be experienced alone. 

Then you came.

Polaroids. He loves to take photos of you. Whether it’s right after sex or even the domestic things like you eating or laughing. As dangerous as it is, he keeps one on him at all times. You’re his reason to come home at the end of the day. When he’s bleeding and in pain he knows it all won’t matter when he walks into the door and sees you. 

Most of these more private Polaroid photos were gifted to him from you. He kept them safe and would bring them out in the privacy of his hotel room during long contracts to stroke himself to the photos of you in lingerie, imagining you were there with him. That he could kiss your thighs and taste your pussy… It doesn’t take him long and knowing that he’ll see you again makes him almost wanna rush the contract just to see you again.

Thank God for phones as well. He loves to call you and he’s so cute. You can tell what he wants right away even if he’s trying his best not to outright ask because he’s already so embarrassed. 

“Hey baby.”

“I miss you so much…” 

“Wish I was home with you.”

“Oh? Why?” You’d bit your lip and giggle through the speaker. 

Then the minute you catch on  and play along, goodbye awkward John and hello confident John. 

“You really want to know? Why don’t you go lay on the bed and touch yourself for me, crazy woman.” 

When he’d hear you moan at the sound of his words and his belt coming undone he’d curse in different languages. John proceeds to tell you every little detail on how he feels and how he wants to make you feel while he jerks himself to the sound of your moans and wet pussy through the phone. 

If he’s feeling particularly down bad for you, he’ll let you do all the talking. 

John is also a huge fan of mutual masturbation. He loves to just lay side by side with you and make each other orgasm with nothing but your hands and deep eye contact. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

If you’re looking for a kinky guy or someone into BDSM, you’ve come to the wrong department. He’s a bit old school. John will experiment with all sorts of positions and do some light bondage that’s easy for you to get out of if you need or really want to. No safe word because no and stop are enough for him.

John likes blindfolds, light biting, ice cubes and your vibrators. He also likes making you orgasm over and over or edging you to make the pleasure even more intense. He’s a very attentive lover who is passionate as all hell.

Things are a bit different when it comes to him though. He’s fucked in his opinion. John’s been shot, stabbed, hit by a car, beat and he’s broken bones. A couple slaps across the face from you brings out almost a primal feeling within him. He loves it. Some may call it slight femdom but he doesn’t care when you take a bit of control it makes him feel like he can relax and let go. 

Oh and he’s not into, full strap on pegging but he does appreciate a good old prostate orgasm every now and again. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Right at home and in his bed. Who doesn’t love their bed? John is not excluded from the common phenomenon that is not wanting to get out of bed. Yes he wakes up early but his bed is just so comfortable and when you’re in his arms all warm… Mmm it’s heaven for him. So when it comes to his favorite thing to do (sex), he loves being in his big, soft bed. You’ll feel like you’re having sex on a cloud. 

John’s other favorites include inside (or on) his mustang, hotel rooms and anywhere in his or your home. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Not much, John Wick is easy as shit when he’s in love. He can hide his desire well but if you’re both down it’s not hard to get him started. Wink, smile, giggle or bite your lip while looking at him. Squeeze his bicep or stare at his groin. You’re so sexy to him you could straight up ask him and he’ll carry you to the bedroom before you finish your sentence. 

Baba Yaga enjoys being messed with. Tease him and he may just beg you!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Will not hurt or degrade you. John knows how easy it is to kill someone. Three seconds of his hand on your throat would be all it would take. So his hands stay away from your neck no matter how much you beg him. Any kind of pain inflicted on you is a no. End of story. It may even kill the mood for him if you keep bugging him about it. 

He doesn’t feel right calling you a slut, a whore or bitch. Not when those terms are so negative. Those words would never even cross his mind when it came to you. In fact, if he ever heard anyone call you those terms he may have to pay them a visit and … Well that’s besides the point.

You’re too precious to him he doesn’t think he could hurt you even if he tried. Sex is sacred to him. He can be rough in ways that don’t involve putting your life at risk or harming you and he can be dominant and commanding without insulting you. John wants to love and worship you during sex and to him anything that puts you down or harms you is the complete opposite of what he wants with you or any partner. 

Him on the other hand… (see K & W) 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

John could eat you out for hours, literally. Your tastes and your sounds, lord he could ejaculate just from that. Sometimes he gets so into it you think he almost forgets your there (he could never actually), his eyes are closed and his face is soaked as he can’t stop kissing, licking and sucking on your clit. He feels like a dehydrated man drinking from the most beautiful oasis he’d ever seen. Be prepared to be overstimulated. 

He of course would never turn down a blowjob. Sitting on the couch with one of his arms thrown around the back, the other cradling the back of your head, tilting it ever so slightly so he could look into your eyes, his boxers and jeans bundled at his ankle while you slobber all over him? How many times can John say he feels like he’s in Heaven with you without it getting annoying? He’s very careful not to choke you or thrust up too hard but he apologizes every time he does. 

Oral is John’s favorite way to have sex with you.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Really depends on you but he’s real good at pacing himself. He can tell by how loud and long your moans are. If you are loving slow and deep to the point he’s almost just grinding against you while in bed or fast and hard after a hit where you can’t keep your hands off each other he��ll do whatever you need. 

John does like to change it up though, going nice and slow before speeding up and letting the headboard hit the wall, making anyone within two miles of you hear your pleasure. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ah not John’s favorite but they do. Sometimes he just can’t keep his hands off of you because you’re so irresistible to him. He loves to spend his time worshiping you and edging or overstimulating the both of you but can’t really do that with a quickie. 

He’s not against them, just not his preference because that usually means one of you are leaving and you’re having one more quick intimate goodbye or you’ll be out in public. Both are horrible options to him. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

John won’t have sex with you in public but he doesn’t care who hears. Or how close someone is. He will have sex in his mustang which is the most public he’ll do. He loves it because every time he gets in to drive all he can think about is your hand holding onto the roof as you bounce yourself on him. 

He’s also down to experiment with different positions and loves the ones that make you the loudest. John gets very proud when someone makes a comment, though most are too intimidated to ask Baba Yaga to tone it down. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

When he was younger he felt like he could go all night, even if he needed time he’d just eat you out till he was hard enough to fuck you again. Multiple times a day with amazing self control but sometimes you just felt way too good and he’d feel like he was coming the minute he would thrust into you. 

Now with John’s older age he prefers long rounds with fewer orgasms. Maybe he can do two himself on a good night? He’ll still stay up all night kissing and worshiping you. All he wants is to feel you and the older he gets the better self control he has. He can do more if you’re over stimulating him though.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Yeah toys are good. Mainly vibrators though. John likes smaller dildos, nothing even close to the size of his own dick, that he can fuck you with while you sucking on your clit. 

He also likes the smaller ones because they are the perfect size for him as well. When he’s had a real rough week a prostate orgasm he believes can fix him and heal him of all frustrations, especially if you’re the one helping him out. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

John likes it more when you tease him but he teases you back just as much. Sometimes he can’t wait himself and doesn’t even want to tease you because it would be like teasing himself. That’s what makes it fun for him though, knowing you need him to fuck you as much as he needs to fuck you. It’s a great feeling knowing you’re that desired. 

Also it’s up to what you consider a tease. John doesn’t even realize when he’s ‘teasing’ a lot of the time. He’ll spend hours kissing every inch of your body, biting and sucking in your breasts and nipples while caressing your whole body. It’s not until he notices your literally dripping onto the mattress that he should probably get a move on. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Just like normal John he’s pretty quiet but he moans and groans, grunts and growls, swears and talks dirty to you. He’s sure to let you know how good he feels but you’re going to be the only one who knows. He won’t let people know when he’s in pain even when he’s been shot or stabbed or burned, he barely makes a noise. 

Having even a conversation with the man is a privilege, so to hear him in his rawest form when he was experiencing such pleasure makes you almost elite. If the two of you are somewhere private he will let himself be a little louder, but just for you. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Living his life as an assassin John had to learn to deal with pain real quick. One of those ways was to find pleasure within that pain. It reminded him that he was alive and he wasn’t some scary story… That he could feel. When he learned he could still feel some of that painful pleasure with you it was a perfect meeting in the middle of his two lives. 

So feel free to smack or bite him; he loves it. The sting from your palm connecting with the side of his face makes him feel alive and lose control just a little bit. But don’t actually do anything life threatening damage and don’t do anything too crazy 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s been blessed by the 666 gods that’s for sure. 6 feet in height, 6 inch dick and 6 figure salary. Or maybe it’s more like 6 feet in height, 7 ½ inch dick that pushes 8 inches when he’s super turned on and a probably more than 6 figure salary.

John seems like a guy who knows how desirable he is but he’s humble about it. He’s fit, attractive, strong, and skilled. He won’t boast and he won’t tell people but he knows he has it all. That doesn’t stop him from acting a bit shy in front of his significant others. When it comes to matters of the heart all logic goes out the window and can leave the most confident person a stuttering mess.

All that confidence he has turns to worry because what if he hurts you? John knows bigger doesn’t always mean better. That’s why he’s learned and he knows just how to get you prepared for him. If you can’t get wet enough on your own there’s a bottle of lube he keeps in his nightstand and if it still hurts, he knows penetration isn’t the only way to have sex.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fluctuates but more on the higher side. The emotional release John gets from sex and orgasming is better than any successful or satisfying hit he’s ever done. Being raised to kill people for a career led to pent up aggression being released in sick and brutal ways. He didn’t get the nickname Baba Yaga for nothing. 

Sex is the complete opposite of what he does. Instead of taking a life, he could be making one. Instead of staring someone in the eyes as they plead for their life and  take their last breath, he can stare into yours as you plead for him to keep going. It’s soft, safe and reminds him that there are good ways to handle things. 

It gives him a better release and no one gets hurt! Orgasming feels good and it’s even better when it’s with someone he loves and can share that good feeling with. But don’t get it wrong. He’s not a sex crazed maniac, while no sex whatsoever would be a long time deal breaker, less sex is just fine. 

John’s not thinking about sex 24/7, he has a lot of it when he’s in a relationship maybe a few times a day sometimes, but he doesn’t need it. He’s more of a cuddle crazed maniac. You don’t want to have sex? That’s alright! You don’t want to cuddle? Now there might be some problems. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

John will only fall asleep first if you’ve been dating for a real long time and he’s the most comfortable he can be. Knowing his own strength and skill he wants to protect you. After sex, you have his hormones running wild and he’s filled with so much love and protective energy he wants to watch and hold you while you sleep but sometimes you milk him too good. 

You can always tell when you’ve wiped the poor man out. On those nights he can’t help but lay his head on your chest and he’s out like a light, snoring louder than usual. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 45

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

Pieces by zenstrike

Five times Keith found comfort with Lance, and one time he tried to return the favour.

look i know i talked about zenstrike last week and im here to do it again. i know what the secret relationship trope is, i know there are so many great fics but like. zenstrike reaches something in my chest and fucking twists it. i read something of theirs for the first time like two years ago and i remember being actually fucking struck dumb on my bed and clutching my phone because the way my stomach churned and my heart pounded and i well and truly FELT every fucking emotion!! when keith nervously pressed his palm to the junction of lance's neck and his breath sharpened mine did too!! when the swirling dread of fear and nerves turned in lances belly it turned in mine too!! idk what it is about zenstrike but they have touched me in a way no other author ever has in my whole life and i cant always read everything they write in one sitting, sometimes im consuming it all in a frenzy and sometimes one fic takes me days. anyway keith loving lance with every goddamn molecule but being physically unable to say it but determined to show it will always make me insane sorry for the goddamn essay

2. when you're here loving me by orphan_account [EXPLICIT]

“’Look at me, I’m Keith,” Lance muttered, “’I run directly at Galra sentries and don’t even think about the big, glowy thingies in their hands. What are those called again?’” He tightened the gauze, gently despite his trying to act angry, “’Right! Guns! Can’t possibly hurt me, right?’” Keith scowled, “I know what a gun is.” ✦ they come back from a mission, gross and in love.

this one is kinda porny lol but its pretty goddamn funny. of COURSE these two are the massive losers who play rock paper scissors after they bone 💀💀

3. The Samurai and the Sharp-Shooter by orphan_account

It's tough going on missions when you have to pretend you're dating your rival. Tougher still when you're actually not even rivals but lovers forced to hide that fact for the sake of the team's greater mission. Not canon, but still in space and everyone's there. Fluffy with zero angst.

this fic makes me CRY with laughter bc why are they fake dating to hide that they're real dating on a god damned assassination mission 😭😭 they're actually so goddamn stupid

4. Headshot by @angelwithaknife

“Guys,” Lance grunted, lying down behind a couples of rocks and aiming at some soldiers again, “I appreciate that you appreciate me but please stop waving at me after I save you, I’m sick of running around trying to find new spots, I specifically chose a long-range weapon so I could lie down all the time.”

this is so CUTE the team loves lance so bad. and as they should!! bc hes so smart and amazing and cool and wonderful and talented honestly i just love him so bad

5. What's Something You've Never Told Me? by @fondaboo

The lady drops a slice of lemon into it and slides it back towards him. “You’ve got pretty good taste kid,” she says. Her cordial smile turns wicked and teasing, as she jerks her chin to the dance floor. “And it's not just limited to drinks, I'd say.” Keith follows her dark gaze, before he can help himself, biting down on a groan when he sees where she’s looking. Lance. Jesus, he can’t even go to a bar without someone calling out his—blatant and painfully obvious—crush on Lance. “Friend of yours?” She croons. He drags a hand down his face, maybe he needs something stronger than whiskey. Ketamine maybe. “Best friend actually,” he squints through his fingers, glaring darkly, “not that it’s anyone’s business.” Or the author overuses em-dashes while trying to make Keith talk about his damn feelings! OR ace Lance has to deal with a smitten Keith and just wants to watch disney

ACE LANCE ACE LANCE ACE LANCE ACE LANCE ACE LANCE!!!!!!!!!!!!! god i love him. also fondaboo literally never misses

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[dancingrain9625]

Couldn't stop thinking of your Imposter!reader AU, a cycle of needless murde

Tws for caps

Imagine Imposter!Reader who justbreaks and centers their entire identity around being the imposter who revives again and again.

"Memento Mori" they start calling themselves, ignoring or forgetting the name they claimed was theirs to everyone. The name others still call them by until they just give up. (Does anyone keep using their human name?)

"Are I not the Imposter of your God? One who is no person? Are you not without sinful desire? Are you not permitted by your God to do what you wish to me, the Imposter, the sin of man incarnate? Why don't you push that onto me? Push all your evils, your wicked thoughts, you monstrous wishes onto me. I will take in your sin and you will be more holy for it."

"The Creator made me for Teyvat, and I will serve it just the way their Grace told so."

("no you weren't you're not from this world that's NOT TRUE THAT'S NOT TRUE THAT'S NOT TRUE-")

"Look at how I die again and again! Proof mankind has needed an outlet to sin onto since it's very start, and an outlet your Creator gave."

"Nobody is without sin, be it the infants or the elderly. So come to me. Save yourself. Save those around you. Purify yourself through me."

"I am Memento Mori, God of Sin and Purification."

("Schadenfreude," Mondstadtian's outside their cult, and then the rest of the world calls them, "Memento Mori, God of Schadenfreude.")

But what about Teyvat's view on this?

Who just accepts the Imposter as somebody who they can do anything to without consequences? Who just takes it as the Imposter being delusional? Who is perfectly fine with this? Who isn't okay with this? Who accepts the idea of the Imposter calling themselves a god and who doesn't?

Does anyone try to implement laws to protect the Imposter? Does anyone try implementing laws that make doing whatever you want to the Imposter more legal?

Does a religion or even a cult surrounding the fake god ever form? Kind of hard to disapprove that idea of them being even somewhat divine when they don't stay dead me thinks. What would their followers philosophies or religious beliefs be?

Btw even if Memento decided to fully embrace their imposterhood/godhood, I don't see their pain tolerance getting better. They scream when tortured as horribly as they did the find time around. They cry and sob just as much as they did their first death. If they're dying but alive they writhe and flail their limbs, making just as much noice. Their pain never numbs unless alcohol or other means of reducing pain is in place.

Now imagine if the reader held a notebook they wrote within since ending up in Teyvat. A diary that they abandoned once they mentally broke. A diary that miraculously enough is perfectly undamaged. Writing wholly legible. One where they wrote about how amazing it is they woke up in a piece of fictional media (assuming they're from Planet Earth and were a Genshin Player that is.), the excitement of meeting their favorite characters, notes of being scared for their life, wanting to go home back from where they came and wishing they never played Genshin Impact, denouncing their love for the characters they loved in plenty of detail.

"My name is [name]." Is scrawled again and again in one particular page.

"I'm not an imposter I just look like their god. I'm [name] Im [name] [name] [name] [name]-" the rest of the page is their name over and over again.

Of course, when inquired about the notebook, Memento will claim it's unfamiliar to them and that they've always been on Teyvat, they've always been the Imposter, and they ABSOLUTELY were handmade by the Creator for Teyvat to break again and again like children throwing tantrums with their toys, please cease your silly games now!

Though this begs the question of who gets possession of the notebook after Reader breaks.

Say, what does the Creator think of the Imposter, before and after they becomes Memento Mori?

And who/what is responsible for the Reader always resurrecting after Death. If it's a person who did it, do they ever put a stop to their resurrection and finally let Reader stay dead or do they let Reader keep dying and reviving as always. For what reason do they do either? For what reason did they not let Reader stay dead in the first place?

Do the Creator take action regarding the Imposter or do they leave them alone?

But if it's not a person but a something keep Reader resurrecting what IS that something and is it possible for it's ability to keep Reader up after deaths ever run out?

First. LIKE DAMN DUDE you pretty much wrote it for me!

But I'm more than happy to expand on your idea! I think it's very cool.

Memento Mori

Remember that you I must die

Those two words held little meaning in the world of Teyvat. At least until you arrived.

"I am Memento Mori, God of Sin and Purification."

The biggest lie you had ever told. Yet one that was impossible to refute. Could they not see how no matter how it was done, no matter who had done it. You would return all the same.

At first, everyone had taken your words as the mere ramblings of a dead man walking. But as the people of Teyvat continued to kill you over and over again your words seemed to be all the more true.

It was a slow but sure process. The views the people had on you changed. They no longer looked upon you with deep hatred but rather a morbid curiosity.

"Are I not the Imposter of your God? One who is no person? Are you not without sinful desire? Are you not permitted by your God to do what you wish to me, the Imposter, the sin of man incarnate? Why don't you push that onto me? Push all your evils, your wicked thoughts, your monstrous wishes onto me. I will take in your sin and you will be more holy for it."

No one believed you at first. As you shouted those words from the middle of Liyue Harbor the people were hesitant to kill you. Especially if you were asking for it.

But all it took was a single person. A single Yaksha. Poor sweet Xiao. His karmic debt-burdened him deeply. Wouldn't you help alleviate that pain?

You smiled as you helped Xiao steady his spear. Pointing it straight at your heart.

"Come Xiao. Allow me to carry the burden you've been forced to bear all this time."

Your smile remained as his weapon pierced through your skin yet the pain was unbearable. Still the same as when he had done it the first time oh so long ago. But it didn't matter. That feeling was nothing compared to the triumph you had just achieved. Did killing you alleviate Xiao's debt?

You didn't know. You didn't care.

But things had finally begun to change in Teyvat. But it was unbearably slow. Whether your plan worked or not didn't change the people's suspicion. Especially of those in power. Still, that didn't change that the domino effect had started.

First, it was one person. Then it was a handful. Then a crowd. Then a town. The people would come to you in lines. They'd each come up to you hoping to have their sin's forgiven. And who were you to deny them. This was your job. What you were created for. (Or so you'd say)

Still, you were bored with the slow progression. So you took drastic measures.

"Kaeya, Surely the regrets of your time as a spy still burden you? How you're actions resulted in your father's death."

"Raiden, don't you wish for a dreamless sleep where you don't see your sister's face?"

"Zhongli, don't you feel a fraction of guilt for putting your people in such danger with Osial. Not to mention how you've treated poor Xiao."

Perhaps you had gone a bit too far with what you told a few people, but it's what they deserved. And low and behold, someone you weren't quite expecting was found at your knees.

As you stared at the Geo Archon who knelt before you it took much willpower to stiffen your smile. Oh how he pleaded to use you so that he might cleanse himself. And over the next days you’d find different people at your feet.

Ninguang.

Jean.

Diluc.

Venti.

Ei.

The list went on and so your place in this world had become solidified. The process of killing you had become something of which only the most worthy could do. Each nation making laws that forbid your killing without those in power’s consent.

Things had finally seemed to be going your way. The people had even begun to call you by the name Mori. Worshiping you as the god you claimed to be. Of course there were still those that doubted your godly hood but with no evidence to prove otherwise they kept their mouths shut.

At least until the Lady Guuji had come across a notebook while searching your room during your stay in Inazuma.

The book was filled with your thoughts on each and every person in Teyvat. It was evident that you had started this journal only once you had taken your position of power but it was none the less completely full of information. Each page filled to the brim with drawings and notes.

Eventually as Yae looked through the pages she stumbled on one that focused on you. It wasn’t like the others all it said was

I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM I’M NOT THEM

The words continued endlessly as they were sprawled onto the page before ending with

I want to go home.

Written in a red ink that stained the nearby pages. Yae kept her discovery to herself as she carefully put the book back where she found it. As she snuck back to the shrine all she could think about was what her Creator thought about all this.

They were very amused.

The Creator watched on with a twisted interest from on high. They had planned to return you home oh so long ago but… this plan of yours… it was far too entertaining. Surely you wouldn’t mind if they kept you around a little longer.

They didn’t quite get it but when the creator looked upon you and what you had done…

They couldn’t help but want to see what happens next.

___

Hope I did your ask some justice.

Thanks for Reading.

[ghostradiodylan]

What type of music would the counselors listen to?

I know some of my mutuals have answered this question before and I'm sure my headcanons will be influenced by theirs, AND I'm also significantly older than the counselors so they're probably listening to gen z stuff my late millennial ass doesn't even know about but here goes nothing!

Laura So much SIØBHAN! Just kidding. Laura feels like two completely different characters in the game so I have a hard time deciding what I think spunky but straight-laced, ‘this is my first cop,’ over-achieving pre-vet student Laura Kearney would listen to vs badass avenging murder spree Laura Kearney (but maybe she always had that inside her). Part of me wants to say, like, 80’s pop (Prince, Blondie, Tiffany, Michael Jackson, Pat Benetar, etc.) and part of me wants to put her in the hard rock/metal zone with Ryan. Maybe she’s a bit of both.

Max I believe it was Addie (@insertlovelyperson) who said Max would listen to country music where women murder their cheating or abusive husbands. That tracks to me. Maybe it's the use of Alma Cogan's version of 'Fly Me to the Moon' in the game, but I also tend to associate him with crooner type singers of the 40's and 50's (Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, Dean Martin, etc), which is what I said he'd choose for karaoke. And because of this fanart I have no choice but to HC him as a major Ariana Grande fan, he's probably the one who chose the music for the drive to camp. So. Max has range.

Abi is the K-Pop/J-Pop stan to me but I know so little about that music beyond the crossover bands like BTS that I can't speak to it a whole lot. I think she'd also like some emo, pop-punk and moodier alt/pop. Avril Lavigne, Paramore, Melanie Martinez, Florence and the Machine, Metric, Lorde, Halsey, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Billie Eilish, Phoebe Bridgers/boygenius, etc. I feel like she's really into female fronted bands for some reason.

Jacob likes pretty much whatever is on the radio. He's a top 40 guy and has no shame about his enjoyment of Ed Sheeran and Justin Beiber, or about ugly crying to Taylor Swift and Coldplay. He rarely listens closely to the actual lyrics (and often gets them humorously wrong), he just goes on vibes. He discovers half the music he listens to via TikTok (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Emma is a theater kid through and through and loves broadway musicals. She goes through phases with each popular one. She's had a Waitress phase, a Mamma Mia phase, a Wicked phase, and a Hamilton phase, of course, and now she's into Mean Girls, Heathers, and Hadestown. Beyond that, I think she'd be a dedicated Swiftie, big Adele fan, and a lover of Britney Spears's entire body of work from the 90's through today.

Nick probably listens to stoner bro music. Like jam bands and psychedelic rock and stuff. He probably likes Dave Matthews Band and the Grateful Dead/Dark Star Orchestra, Sublime, Widespread Panic, Tame Impala, and O.A.R. Googling jam bands to remind myself which ones exist led me to the knowledge that there's an Australian psychedelic rock band called King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard and that name is so bonkers that I've decided without listening to more than a few bars that it has to be Nick's favorite band.

Ryan is a little bit emo and a little bit goth and a little bit old school punk. He needs music that's loud and moody to help sort out his feelings about life and drown out all the excess noise inside his head. He's into metal, the harder side of emo/screamo, goth rock, hard rock, punk, and post-punk. He definitely listens to Nightwish, GOJIRA, Mastodon, Lacuna Coil, Linkin Park, Rage Against the Machine, Bauhaus, Joy Division, Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, Thursday, Alkaline Trio, My Chemical Romance, AFI, Bad Religion, Black Flag, Minor Threat, The Misfits, Ramones, etc. He doesn't hate more accessible pop and rock music, but the closest he gets to choosing it for himself is probably something like The Cure or The Smashing Pumpkins or Depeche Mode, maybe some of the creepier Weeknd songs and Muse tracks too heavy to go on the Twilight soundtracks. He and Abi listen to Babymetal together.

Kaitlyn classic rock and 90's alternative. This girl likes the Stones more than the Beatles, though she'll listen to both. Led Zeppelin, Joan Jett, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Black Sabbath, the occasional hair band. She especially loves the 90's girl rockers like Alanis Morisette, Garbage, Hole, Veruca Salt, and No Doubt (Kaitlyn can't believe Gwen Stefani is married to pop-country dork Blake Shelton who sings that song about being your honey bee, because Gwen used to be so cool [I'm definitely not projecting]). I feel like she'd also love Bikini Kill and Sleater Kinney, Le Tigre, and The Donnas.

Dylan is the Music Guy ™ (and my personal bias/url namesake), so I've admittedly thought about his musical tastes more than most of the others'. The official Quarry website mentions his 'deep musical knowledge' and I imagine he has pretty broad views on what constitutes good music. He's got kind of a vintage vibe to him, maybe it's the reproduction band shirt from 1988, or the fact that he's into analog technology, or both, but I've noticed he's often depicted playing Queen or Bowie or something of that era in fics, which I think is realistic. This kid goes to the used record store and just buys whatever looks cool.

Fun Fact: According to the datamine, the chapters originally had literary or musical quotes at the beginning of each, and Chapter 5: White Noise (the radio hut chapter) was originally headed by the opening lyrics from Queen's 'Radio Ga Ga':

He's also the only character we see play music in canon, so we know he likes... songs from random compilation albums with inexpensive royalties. XD Just kidding, but these are the diegetic (in-universe) songs we get to hear from Dylan's playlist at the bonfire party:

All pop music of varying subtypes, so we know he appreciates a well-crafted pop song. I honestly am a fan of all of these. I think Dylan genuinely listens to everything but he seems like the type to especially like alt and indie pop, classic rock, garage rock, a bit of the more melodic side of punk, emo, and pop-punk, new wave, synth pop, electronic, and a little bit of hip hop that’s sufficiently nerdy white boy friendly (probably Beastie Boys, Run the Jewels, Post Malone, emo rap like Blackbear, etc). I also tend to gravitate towards early-mid aughts indie for him, like MGMT, Arctic Monkeys, The Strokes, OK Go, LCD Soundsystem, etc. Just seems to match his vibe. I think he'd really like BØRNS, Hozier, COIN, Mitski, and K.Flay and probably have a fair amount of overlap with Ryan's more melodic picks (MCR, Muse, The Cure, etc). Dylan probably hates Morrissey but begrudgingly loves The Smiths and definitely cranks up The Killers in his car. He’s also listening to bands right now that you’ve never heard of but will be huge in a couple years. He can probably tell you the difference between subgenres like chillwave, dream pop, and shoegaze but don’t ask me about it because I have no fucking clue.

Since we’re on the subject, here’s my absurdly long and ever-growing Rylan/Radioheads playlist because I have a problem.

And my Sweet Summer Jams playlist, that’s just a bunch of random songs I think would be clean enough to play at a summer camp as long as the kids/your boss don’t ask too many questions.

[vermilionsun]

As promised, here is the Mhin/Vere Hate Sex Oneshot, well-cooked and served on a silver platter. Enjoy <3

Word count: 3.5k Rating: Explicit Fandom: Touchstarved (Red Spring Studio) Categories: Other Relationships: Mhin/Vere, Mhin & Vere, Vere & Leander, Mhin & Leander Tags: Hate Sex, Smut, PWOP, Rough sex, Fingering, Biting, Dirty Talk, Against the wall, Jumbled dynamics, Top Vere, Power Bottom Mhin, Forced Proximity (kinda), Poor Leander

The night was young as patrons made their way down to the Amaryllis district, crowding the streets and specifically, once again, the Wet Wick. The sound of laughter and music filled the air, creating a lively atmosphere that drew people from all corners of Lowtown.

Mhin arrived at the bar just as the sunlight disappeared behind the horizon. They looked over the pub with disdain; it was already bustling with people.

Mhin slid into the establishment, immediately assaulted by the pungent blend of cheap alcohol, sweat, and overpowering cologne that permeated the air.

Leander had switched with the bartender, and on the counter was Vere, nonchalantly sitting cross-legged, blabbering about his latest escapades in the city to anyone who would listen while sipping on a glass of wine.

Mhin pinched the bridge of their nose and let out a soft groan before reluctantly approaching the counter. They begrudgingly took a seat on an empty stool on the other side of the bar, trying to make themselves as small as possible.

Vere's eyes narrowed as he spotted Mhin, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips as he observed their deliberate attempt to place some distance between themselves and him.

With a feigned casualness, Vere spun around so that he was facing Mhin directly. "Look at what the cat dragged in," he said with a playful tone. He leaned against the counter, his eyes locking with theirs for a breath.

As he finished serving a customer, Leander glanced toward the newcomer. A slight smirk tugged at his mouth as he saw their slumped physique. "Rough day?" He asked in a low voice.

Mhin rolled their eyes before looking up at Leander with a mix of annoyance and exhaustion. "When is it not? I came for the payment, nothing more." They spoke in a clipped tone, their gaze drifting over to Vere briefly, then back to Leander.

Vere leaned back against the countertop, his arms crossed over his chest, as he watched the exchange between Mhin and Leander with a thinly veiled curiosity. He called out to the pair with a jocularity that was almost mocking. "Oh, don't mind me; I'm just enjoying the show."

Mhin shot a glare at Vere before turning back to Leander, clearly irritated by the interruption. "Let's get this over with," they muttered. "I have places to be." 

Leander raised an eyebrow, noting the faint shadows under their eyes and the tension in their posture. "Ah, right to business as usual. Always one for small talk, aren't you?" He teased.

"I've got it all ready at the back for you—don't go anywhere." Leander pushed himself away from the counter, making his way towards the back of the bar. "Though, I doubt you were planning to," he added with a hint of humor in his voice.

He rummaged around for a moment but was stopped when a panicked acquaintance of his ran up to him, breathless and frantic. "Leander, you have to come quick! There's trouble on the main street," they exclaimed, their eyes wide with fear.

Leander's smile slipped from his face, replaced by a look of intense focus. His eyes hardened, and he turned to face them fully. "Trouble, you say?" he asked seriously. "What kind of trouble?" Simultaneously, faint echoes of shouting and crashing could be heard from outside the bar. 

Mhin didn't even bother to pretend to be disinterested. Trouble in Lowtown was nothing new, but the unexpected interruption left a sour taste in their mouth.

Leander straightened up, cursing under his breath as he grabbed his coat and gave his acquaintance a nod.

The door burst open, and a horde of frantic individuals flooded in, unleashing a cacophony of chaos as the street's turmoil spilled into the tavern. People were knocking over tables and screaming in panic, sending drinks and debris flying through the air. Leander sprang into action, pushing his way through the panicked crowd to assess the situation.

Meanwhile, Mhin found themselves being pushed around in the mayhem, struggling to keep their balance as they tried to make their way towards the nearest exit. They lunged towards the nearest door, propelled into a small storage room by the relentless force of the crowd, the door slamming shut and locking behind them.

Mhin stumbled inside, landing less than gracefully against a pile of crates. They let out a soft grunt of annoyance as they dusted themselves off and tried to open the door handle with no particular luck. 

"Fantastic," they muttered sarcastically under their breath to no one in particular, their irritation growing by the second. 

They whirled around, frantically scouring their cramped surroundings for any possible exit, their eyes darting in a wild search for a way out. The tiny room was cramped and dimly lit, filled with bottles and miscellaneous supplies.

When their eyes landed in the left corner, they were met with large pink glowing pupils and a fluffy red tail lodging in the shadows—Vere.

"And of course, it had to be you." They took a deep breath, trying to maintain their composure.

"Well, fate has a curious way of bringing people together, doesn't it? Even those of us who would prefer to stay far apart." The man purred lowly, his eyes narrowing in amusement as he slowly emerged from the shadows.

Mhin's eyes followed Vere's movements as they leaned against the wall, creating as much distance between themselves and Vere as the small room allowed, crossing their arms defensively. "I don't believe in fate," they retorted dryly, their gaze never leaving Vere. "Just bad luck."

Vere chuckled darkly, advancing with deliberate steps towards Mhin; narrowing the gap between them, arms loosely draped at his side, exuding an air of calculated confidence. "Bad luck, fate, coincidence—call it whatever you want. Either way, we're stuck in here together, whether we like it or not."

Mhin tensed as Vere drew closer and fixed him with a scowling glare, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, it's an absolute pleasure. Trapped in a tiny room with a pompous smartass. Just what I always dreamed of."

Vere feigned a look of mock offense, placing his hand over his heart as if wounded by their words. "Oh, I'm hurt. You really know how to flatter me. But don't worry, I won't let your scathing wit get to me." He leaned against the wall directly beside Mhin, his proximity causing him to brush against them slightly.

Mhin tensed, the brief contact sending a shiver down their spine. They tried to hide their discomfort and keep their cool, but the close confines of the storage room made it increasingly difficult. They shot Vere a glare, their voice dripping with annoyance. "Do you always invade people's personal space like this, or am I just lucky?"

Vere relished in the fact that he was getting under their skin, even if it was just a little bit. "Oh, don't flatter yourself, darling. I'm this close to you because there's nowhere else to go. Unless you'd prefer, we stand back-to-back in this glorified shoebox."

Mhin clenched their teeth, their annoyance growing with every word that left Vere's mouth. They couldn't decide what bothered them more—his close proximity or his infuriatingly casual use of the term 'darling.'

"I'd prefer you just shut your mouth. And don't call me 'darling' ever again."

Vere could practically see the steam coming off of them, and it only fueled his desire to rile them up further. He feigned innocence, his smirk faltering for a moment before returning full force. "Oh, why? Does it make you uncomfortable, darling?" He said the word again intentionally, his voice dripping with a mock show of affection. He leaned in closer, closing the remaining space between them; their bodies almost pressed together.

Mhin's breath caught in their throat, their heart rate quickening despite their best efforts to stay calm. They could feel the heat radiating from Vere's body against theirs, a mix of irritation and nervousness coursing through them.

"Back. Off." They warned through clenched teeth; the tension between them nearly palpable.

He ignored their warning and instead moved even closer, his body now fully pressed against theirs. He leaned in until his face was mere inches from Mhin's, their breaths mingling together in the confined space. "Make me, darling."

Mhin's pulse was racing now, their breath coming in short bursts. Their mind was a tangle of emotions—frustration, irritation—but, to their horror, a hint of something else they refused to acknowledge.

They scowled at him, their voice shaking slightly. "Don't test me."

But Vere only chuckled in response, the sound sending a shiver down Mhin's spine. His eyes bore into theirs, a mix of challenge and something darker lurking beneath the surface. As much as they wanted to push him away, a part of them was inexplicably drawn to his intensity. It was a dangerous game they were playing, one that could have consequences they weren't prepared for.

"Oh, but where's the fun in that? You're so amusing when you're all worked up like this, darling." The foxian deliberately placed his hands on Mhin's waist.

In a swift motion, Mhin retracted their dagger, pushing it against Vere's pulse point, right above his collar, heart pounding in their chest as they tried to steady their hands, their jaw clenched tight.

"I warned you. Don't... touch me." They seethed, the words punctuated by ragged breaths.

Vere didn't flinch, didn't show a hint of fear or intimidation, and held Mhin's gaze, his voice calm and steady. "Is that supposed to scare me? Do you know how easily—" Vere's hands that rested on Mhin's side now squeeze them threateningly, "—I could snap you in half?"

"You wouldn't dare." They finally breathed out, their voice betraying a hint of uncertainty.

"Oh, but I would. You have no idea what I'm capable of." He leaned in closer, the tip of his nose practically grazing their cheek.

"Are you really going to risk confrontation with Kuras?"

Vere paused, his ears giving an angry twitch at their words. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face for a brief moment before being masked by his usual cocky smirk. He leaned back slightly, though his grip on Mhin stayed firm, still pinning them against the wall. His tone lost its playful edge, his voice took on a more serious tone. "Risk? Please. Kuras doesn't frighten me."

"Even without the collar, you're no match for him," Mhin continued, their tone shifting to a more confident one. They pressed their dagger a little harder against his skin, a small bead of blood forming where the blade made contact. "And you know it."

Vere's expression hardened at their words, his smirk faltering. He bit back a wince and swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple bobbing. "You insolent little killjoy—"

Mhin leaned in a little closer, their warm breath tickling his ear. "Oh, am I getting under your skin, darling?" They mocked, using his own phrase against him.

He parted his lips to retaliate, yet the subtle nuances in their expression, the mirroring of his earlier jeering, caused a momentary hesitation to creep into his response. He clenched his jaw, his hands reflexively tightening around Mhin's sides again. "You're asking for it, you little brat."

"Oh, am I? And what are you going to do about it? You're all bark, no bite."

Vere's fingers dug deeper into their sides, his grip nearing bruising. "You haven't seen just how much bite I have."

A faint gasp of surprise escaped Mhin as they tried to keep up their bravado, albeit breathlessly.  "Is that so? Go ahead, then. Show me." They challenged, their voice barely above a whisper.

Fuck it.

Mhin felt the air leave their lungs in a shaky gasp as their lips crashed into Vere's, their free hand grabbing his collar to pull him closer, pressing their body against his in a desperate bid for more. The other let out a low, guttural moan, one hand leaving Mhin's side to tangle in their hair, his fingers fisting in the strands as he deepened the kiss.

Vere released their sides, instead wrapping his arms around Mhin's waist and pulling them flush against him. Mhin dropped their dagger with a clatter on the floor, both hands gripping his shirt now as they pressed themselves fully against him, their body molding against his in a desperate attempt to merge into one being. Vere tilted their head back, his tongue slipping between their lips, demanding and insistent, tasting them with a fervor and desire he had never even considered possible before.

Vere's hands shamelessly roamed underneath Mhin's shirt, feeling the smooth skin of their back beneath his fingertips. Mhin bit back a whimper as Vere's kisses trailed down their neck, sending shivers down their spine. Mhin's jaw tightened as they tried to suppress the moans building in their throat, their body arching into Vere's touch. 

Vere nipped and nibbled at the sensitive flesh of Mhin's neck, the urgency of his actions only growing more pronounced. A soft gasp escaped their lips as he found a particularly sensitive spot, their head falling back to give him more room to explore. The taste of their skin, mingling with the faint, lingering smell of lavender, was intoxicating. Vere wanted more, needed more. And he wasn't going to hold back any longer.

His hands slid lower, the tips of his fingers tracing the curve of their spine as he continued his assault on their neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. “God above, you’re going to kill me,” he breathes, his lips brushing against their jawline. "You're so damn responsive, darling," he growled against their neck, his voice low and hoarse.

"Shut. Up." They managed to gasp out, their voice laced with a mixture of irritation and raw need. They tried to maintain some semblance of control, but it was slipping through their fingers with each kiss and touch.

Vere chuckled against their skin; his lips curled into a smug smirk. "You make it so easy for me," he nibbled gently at their earlobe, his hips rolling into theirs.

Mhin bit down on their lip to stifle more sounds threatening to come out, their hands clenched into fists against his shoulders as they tried to keep themselves grounded.

They wanted to come up with a witty comeback, to say something to wipe that smug expression off his face, but the words died on their tongue. "Bastard..." They whined in a futile attempt.

Vere let out a low, dark chuckle, his smug smile widening. "That's right, darling. I am a bastard. A cocky, self-assured, devilishly handsome bastard."

"Arrogant. Self-centered. Insufferable." They managed to gasp out, their voice trembling. They hated how their body reacted to his touch—they hated how much they wanted him, and how desperately they craved more.

"You forgot charming. And talented. All things I've been called before. And yet, you still want me, don't you, darling?" Vere's hands moved lower, tracing the curves of their hips as he slowly started getting rid of the fabrics that restricted his access.

They closed their eyes, biting back another moan. They wanted to deny it, but the way their body reacted to his touch betrayed them. "I... hate you." They managed to gasp out, their voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of desire and frustration. 

One of his hands slowly wandered down their side, his fingers tracing a lazy path along their ribs, roaming lower and gripping their thighs. "The feeling's mutual." 

Mhin trembled under his touch, their entire body hyper-aware of every point of contact. "You're a menace… a smug, arrogant, insatiable..." They tried to speak, but their words trailed off into a gasp as Vere's fingers entered them.

Vere's fingers started moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. He leaned in to whisper in their ear. "Go on, darling. Finish the sentence. Say it."

Mhin's breath hitched as he leaned in, his breath ghosting over their ear, sending goosebumps down their spine. "You're... arrogant, infuriating, and completely and utterly..." They trailed off, biting their lip to hold back a moan, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Utterly… fucking irresistible."

Vere chuckled darkly, a satisfied smirk on his face, as he heard the words leave their lips. He continued his ministrations, his fingers moving and working within them with increasing insistence and pace. "That's right, darling. Say it again. Let me hear you say it." He purred.

Mhin's breathing grew ragged as his fingers continued to move with increasing speed, their body arching against his hand.  They could feel the heat pooling in their lower belly. "Fuck you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, darling?" He teased, his fingers curling slightly as he continued his ministrations, driving them closer and closer to the edge.

"Damn you."

"Oh, you're just making this more fun for me, darling. Keep cursing at me. Tell me how much you hate me while you writhe and moan in my arms."

Mhin let out a strangled gasp as Vere's hand suddenly withdrew, their body clenching around the sudden absence, unfulfilled and frustrated. They were so close—so close to the release that they desperately craved.

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast, darling."

"I hate you… I hate you so much…" They heaved, their chest rising and falling rapidly as they tried to catch their breath.

"Mmm," Vere murmured against their skin, tracing leisurely patterns on their skin. "I can feel just how much you hate me, darling."

Mhin felt their last shred of restraint snap, their body taking control. They grabbed his collar, pulling him closer, their lips crashing into his in a ferocious kiss. "Damn you." They gasped out, their voice trembling. "Damn you for making me want you like this." Their fingers dug into his flesh as they pushed him against the wall, reversing their positions. "Just shut up," they growled, their voice thick with longing, "and fuck me, or I swear to the gods above, you won't live another fucking day."

Vere's eyes widened momentarily at the sudden shift in power, a gasp escaping him as his back hit the wall with a thud.

A beat.

With a swift, fluid movement, Vere flipped them back around, pinning Mhin against the wall, their bodies pressed tightly together. He held them firmly, one of his hands gripping their wrists and holding them above their head. "You don't have to tell me twice, darling."

Vere didn't waste any more time, his free hand working to position his dick at Mhin's entrance, pushing inside without warning, causing the latter to leave a loud, drawn out moan as pleasure shot through their body, their head falling back against the wall.. "That's it," Vere whispered, his voice low and husky, "just like that."

Mhin's hands gripped onto Vere's shoulders, nails digging into his skin as they moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and primal. The air was filled with the sound of their heavy breathing and the slick, wet noise of their bodies moving against each other. Vere's hands roamed Mhin's body, tracing every curve and dip with a hunger that bordered on despair. Mhin's nails dug into Vere's back, leaving red marks in their wake as they clung to each other. Vere lifted his head just enough to watch Mhin's face contort with pleasure, their lips parted in a silent scream. Every thrust sent a shock of ecstasy through both of them, pushing them closer and closer to the edge.

As they reached their peak, Vere's name fell from Mhin's lips in hoarse whispers like a mantra, a prayer to a fallen god that neither of them believed in, even if one's name was whispered in return.

Many hours later, Leander had finally settled the matter and restored order to the tavern, but the unexpected interruption had certainly left its mark on the evening. As he sat back down at his table, Leander couldn't help but feel a sense of unease lingering in the air. He had forgotten something, he was sure of it.

He shooed away the thought, opting to replace some of the broken bottles in the bar. As he walked to the storage closet near the bar, he made a mental note to double-check the basement inventory later, just to be safe.

He fumbled with the doorknob, only to realize it was jammed. With a sigh, he used a magic spell to unlock the door. The moment it flung open, a familiar, hooded figure darted past him and out into the early morning. He stood there, stunned for a moment, when lighter footsteps approached from behind him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Most people would treat me to something after a night like that," Vere stretched as he walked past the bewildered man, a mischievous grin on his face. "But I suppose I'll let it slide this time," he added with a wink before disappearing into the early light outside.

[climbthemountain2020]

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 11

Part 12/26 | Ao3

[A little NSFW towards the end]

Tilly

Even after months of waking up with Eris by her side, the novelty never seemed to wear off. If she woke first, she would typically trace her fingers lightly over his freckled face, letting them ghost over his perfect skin and into his scarlet curls, scratching his scalp until his sleepy eyes opened and a smile lit his face. If Eris woke first, he usually liked to wake her by placing soft kisses across her face–cheeks, eyelids, brow, nose–until she cracked an eye to look at him. But sometimes, when Tilly woke up first, she would slide her hands down, down, down, gripping him softly in her hands and stroking him awake as he groaned into her neck. And sometimes, when Eris woke first, his deft, elegant fingers would slip into her, drawing her breathlessly into the land of the living with him.

In the weeks since the first time they’d been together, there wasn’t an inch of their rooms that they hadn’t defiled. The dogs had taken to skulking out of the rooms they entered with annoyance in their eyes, huffing at again being disturbed from their beds at the antics of their owners. They couldn’t help it–once they’d touched, it was as though they couldn’t get enough of each other. A sidelong gaze here, an errant touch there, and clothes would be flying without any words exchanged, breaths hot and sharp on each other as lips skated over skin.

Tilly was enamored with him–words couldn’t do it justice. She had never in her wildest dreams dared to imagine an arranged marriage could turn out this way, let alone one to the heir of Autumn. But every time his eyes met hers, her heart felt as though it grew wings and exploded into the sky. His smile set her on fire, knowing that it was for her and only her. This version of him, the true version of himself, was hers and hers alone. She had taken a leap and trusted him with her guarded heart, and he had held it with a tenderness that she didn’t believe was possible. She couldn’t help but adore him with every piece of her.

He’d never once held her back from the things she wanted, and the fact that he’d encouraged her training was one of the many things she loved about him. The times when she was able to train with Cormac and his brothers were, without fail, the most she’d ever felt embraced by anyone outside of her father. They’d grown so comfortable with each other over the weeks that there was true joy in these training sessions of theirs. Though they were all familiar with archery, she was able to teach them a litany of trick shots and techniques that they were all comfortable using now, though none of them could even come close to outshooting her. She loved training hand-to-hand with Cormac, despite how he goaded her into cheap shots. Which is where she found herself today, laying on the pitch, staring at the cloudless sky and catching her breath.

“If you weren’t so focused on smart ass comments, Tilly, you might be able to land a punch.”

“Now, Cormac, what fun would I be if I didn’t call you on your absolute shit fashion sense at least once a day.” She heard Bray’s laugh from the side of the ring as she took a stab at an element of surprise to sweep his feet. She’d almost caught him, but he jumped at the last minute as she twirled and rose, meeting her practice sword with his mid-downswing. “You might find yourself a nice female if you put a little effort into your looks.” She threw a punch at his gut, but missed by mere centimeters. “Or a male.” She added, a brow up and a wicked smile on her face, and the second his eyes widened she planted a kick to his ribs that sent him sprawling.

“Cauldron, Til. Don’t kill him!” She heard Callum guffaw from the sides as Cormac coughed.

“Should have seen that coming,” he laughed from his back.

“What was that you were saying about my smart ass comments being unhelpful?” She extended a hand to him, which he took and pulled to his feet.

“Yeah, yeah. You win.” He rubbed the back of his neck and smiled. “Eris, your turn. She’s kicking our asses today.” Tilly felt her heart leap into her throat as she turned to see Eris closing in across the field. Eris’ smile filled her with glee and a feral need to have her hands on him again. As he joined them in the ring, she bounced on the balls of her feet, wrists up.

“What do you say, love?” The gleam reflected in his eyes and she could tell the challenge was accepted.

Eris

Sparring with Tilly was a battle of wills in and of itself. Eris already could barely contain himself around her, a blazing inferno always simply seconds away from consuming him whole when he found himself around her. The smell of her in his nose drove him to near madness if he couldn’t get his hands on her, and the thought of her sweaty against his chest or beneath him or on top of him or wrapped around him…

He grit his teeth as she landed a punch to his shoulder and he grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to his front and letting his hand wander across her abdomen.

“Losing focus, dear?” He whispered into her ear, the smell of her arousal slapping him in the face with the force of a gale. She wriggled against him and he heard Bray’s voice ring out across the pitch.

“We’ll be leaving! Have fun!” He heard her giggle, the sound rolling through him like the chime of bells and loosening his grip for just a moment, exactly as she’d intended. She threw the entirety of her body weight down and forward as she kneeled, tossing him off her the second he lost balance. Eris rolled, ready to tackle her into the pitch and take her right then and there as she shot him a feral grin.

He was about to lunge when he stopped short, pulling upright. Tilly could tell immediately something was wrong. Eris did tackle her then, but it was into an immediate winnow. They resurfaced behind the weapons barracks, not thirty yards from where they’d been. Eris pressed a finger to her lips and pulled her close to him. Beron and Aradnus emerged from the treeline, not even feet from where they’d just been training, seeming to be deep in discussion about something.

Eris felt Tilly tense in his arms, so he pressed a kiss to the back of her head. Aradnus was nodding, looking particularly excited about whatever information was being passed to him. Beron, while serious, seemed to be explaining something with more energy than Eris was used to. Aradnus was Beron’s right hand; he knew each and every plan that Beron attempted to carry out, and instinct told Eris that whatever he was detailing currently was not a small matter.

With a last nod, Beron winnowed off, Aradnus stalking back towards the Forest House, and Eris felt Tilly let out the breath she’d been holding in. His hands went to her shoulders immediately, squeezing tightly to show he was there, grounding her but also himself.

“What do you think that was about?” Her voice no higher than a whisper, even though they were already long gone.

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t good.” Eris had a feeling of dread creeping into his very bones. It was rare Beron ever looked so invested in a conversation. And despite him still keeping some things from Eris, he was typically let in on the larger plans as heir. Nothing about this sat well with him, and he felt a great sweeping sense of doom beginning to build. Her rubbed his hands on her shoulders once more, all sense of fun and arousal seemed miles behind them now. “Come, let’s get back to the house.”

Tilly

Over the past few weeks, Eris and Tilly had begun efforts in earnest to hatch a plan. This new development of a potential overarching plot by Beron had them doubling down. Tilly had been spending more time in the library, switching the covers of books from simple history texts to books on botany and flora. She and Eris hoped they might find something in the way of poison that would help them achieve an end to all this sooner rather than later.

Today, she’d grabbed two new tomes on the local flora of Autumn, hoping she might accidentally stumble upon something useful. She’d snuck them into History of Autumn Rulers VII and IX covers, and also grabbed a book on etiquette to throw off any potential suspicion. She was balancing the heavy books as she pulled the library doors shut behind her, preparing to make her way down the dark hall she still hated so much, when she slammed into a hard body, falling backwards and hitting the ground with an inelegant grunt.

“Watch where you’re going, bitch.” Her eyes shot up at the cold voice, finding Beron’s cruel eyes staring down at her. He let his eyes gaze over the books she had dropped and her heart jumped into her throat. Blessed Mother, they’d all stayed closed in the tumble, the covers tight. But Beron’s eyes did not leave them. “Studying up on our history, hmm? Shouldn’t you already be familiar?”

She shot her eyes to the ground in a move of submission, willing her voice into that quiet, demure bleating that she used in his presence. “Yes, High Lord. I have just been brushing up to keep myself occupied. That, and etiquette lessons. A lady can never be too polite.” He snorted derisively at her.

“You could certainly benefit from them, girl.” She nodded, keeping her eyes downcast as she gathered the books in her arms. His gaze lingered on her longer than she was comfortable with, eyeing her chest for quite a few beats longer than was necessary. The creeping cold swept through her, disgust crawling through her veins and she heard him sniff the air. “Perhaps you can find a book on how to produce an heir, since it seems you’re failing in that still,” he sneered down at her coldly, then turned on his heel to walk into the library. Looking over his shoulder he said, tauntingly, “Time ticks away,” and then he was gone.

Tilly gritted her teeth as she walked the rest of the way back to their rooms. Of course there’d been no heirs sired yet, despite the fact that she and Eris were on each other constantly. They’d procured contraceptive tonic on one of their trips to another court. They brewed it in their rooms and each took it every morning, ensuring that there would be no heirs any time soon. There was zero chance they’d be bringing a child into the current situation with Beron intentionally, and it wasn’t like it was uncommon for fae actively trying to conceive a child to take years. Still, they wouldn’t dare risk it.

She took the wards down, setting the books within the door and then stepping back out. Perhaps she would go to the garden and see if Alanna had made it down today. She pulled the wards back and turned down the main hallway.

It’s not like she hadn’t thought about it from time to time, having children with Eris. She was guilty of letting her mind wander as she drifted off at night in his arms, his warm heat at her back, what it might be like to raise a child, or children, with him one day. To the world, he was as cruel and calculating as Beron. But with her, his tender heart was always on display. Though they hadn’t spoken about it in depth–she wasn’t sure if he even wanted children–she knew he would be good at the job. Regardless, it was a conversation they would need to table until after Beron was taken care of, but it couldn’t hurt to dream.

As she turned the corner towards the final hall to the gardens, she was grabbed roughly from behind. Before she could even scream, she was being winnowed, the darkness between places pulling at her body until she was deposited into the other location, a hand at her back. She whirled around the second she could to find–

“Killian? What the fuck?” She pushed at his chest as he put a hand to her lips.

“Quiet! Quiet. I will explain everything. Come here.” He pulled her to stand near the line of trees with him. “I need a favor, but I need you to swear on your life that it stays between us.” She swatted his hand away from her.

“Could you not just–stop touching me–could you not have just asked like a normal person?” She was ready to whack him in the skull. “You scared me half to death,” she hissed. “I thought you were Beron!”

“Okay, well, I’m not, and you’re already here, and I really need you to help me, sister, so please can we–” He gestured broadly, and she noticed the small village on the other side of the clearing.

“Fine! Fine, Killian. What can I do for you?” The relief on his face almost made her worry more. He reached into the pocket realm and grabbed a deep maroon cloak, a blanket, and –a wooden doll? “What in the Cauldron’s name–?”

“It’s my mate. My mate and my daughter. They live here, and no one knows about them. I never get to see them, because if Beron were to find out…” Tilly’s heart caved in at the confession.

“Does Eris know?” She asked tentatively.

“No one knows.” He responded.

“Okay, yes. I’m in, what do I need to do?” His relief was so immense on his face that she could have cried for him.

“Thank you. Gods, Tilly, thank you. I will glamour you and then the doll. I just want a few hours. Just carry the fake baby around the house, do motherly things, maybe walk into the yard and wave to a neighbor from a distance. I just…I just need time with them.” She put a hand on his arm.

“Take whatever time you need, Killian. I will gladly do it. Eris is gone all day, and I have nowhere else to be” He nodded, and she didn’t fail to catch the silver lining his eyes. It was so harshly contrasted to the harsh scars and usual sneer on his face.

He lifted his hand and she felt the tang of a glamour run over her, shivering as it passed. He then sent the smallest flare of magic to the house closest to the woods. Within moments, the back door opened and a female with brown hair and big green eyes looked both ways and ran to the treeline with a bundle in her arms. The light in Killian’s eyes was almost too much to bear. Tilly winnowed to the step of the house before the female reached Killian. She turned as she reached the door, spinning just in time to see Killian sweep the female into his arms and twirl her around, being careful of the baby she was holding before all three winnowed off.

Yes, she would do this, because mate or not, she could not imagine the pain of being forcibly separated from Eris for her own good. Even thinking about it shot a pang of anguish through her heart. As she sat in a chair, visible through the front windows to anyone passing by with her “baby”, she thought about the joy she’d never before seen on Killian’s face, and she wondered what else she might have been wrong about in her original assumptions coming to the Forest House.

Eris

Eris was about to go to his least favorite place, and this time, he’d have to drag Tilly into it with him. But he was long past due for an update with the Night Court’s inner circle, and Beron expected an update from that slimy lecher Kier, so he would go.

Tilly seemed excited to travel to a court she’d never been to when he told her where they’d be going, but he still felt the need to warn her ad nauseam about the idiots she was about to endure. She wouldn’t be involved in his meeting with Kier–he didn’t like the idea of Kier even seeing his wife, let alone being in close proximity to her. But he’d keep her close to him when he met with the Night Court. He’d already explained to her the situation with his alliance–the terms and conditions that went along with it–but he had spent the morning laying in bed with her and telling her about the members of Rhysand’s inner circle, as he called it, and telling her all the details he had about each of them.

Tilly already knew some of the information–knew Cassian was the general of the Night Court’s armies and that Azriel was their spymaster. She knew Rhysand was a daemati, and that his wife and mate was, too. Tilly told Eris her father had spent a good deal of time teaching her how to shield her mind as a child, so she wasn’t particularly concerned. But Eris was also mostly certain that Rhys would never enter her mind without permission–he cautioned her to keep those walls up just in case, regardless.

Finally, he knew it would come up–it always did–so he knew he needed to explain to her the situation with Morrigan.

“Many centuries ago, I was engaged to a member of their inner circle, Morrigan. She is Kier’s daughter, though she doesn’t claim him. Neither of us particularly wanted the engagement, for our own reasons, but she slept with the General, and her family tortured her and dumped her on the border of Autumn. When I came upon her in the woods, I refused to touch her–wouldn’t let the guards–”

“--because by Autumn law it would have been declared sanctuary, and she would have been yours.”

“Yes. I knew her beloved friends wouldn’t be far behind. She could still have a life if I left her there. I had to claim that it was because I did not want a sullied female as a bride, lest Beron beat me to a pulp for showing compassion, but the honest truth is that I refused to condemn her to a life here where she would never be happy.”

“How could you have known she would never be happy with you?”

“Let’s say I’m not her type.” He raised a brow and Tilly nodded as though she caught his meaning.

“So, what does this have to do with now? They saved her, yes?”

“It’s complicated, but the short of it is that Morrigan refuses to tell the whole truth to her family. They will always see me as the villain who left her to die in the woods. I understand, partly, I do–I have been respectful of her choice in what she wants to tell them. But her reluctance to just be honest about herself has caused much unnecessary tension over the centuries. I regret how things needed to unfold then, and I regret how they have played out now, but she knew better than anyone how the situation needed to be handled.” He hated this story–hated the guilt and shame that wound through him every time he thought about it.

He wanted to hate Morrigan for her insistence that her truth was the only one that mattered, wanted to scream at everyone about the beating he’d still taken for what happened. It had resulted in the brands on his legs, in fact. Eris knew that Morrigan needed to be the one to tell her court her own secrets before his were brought to light, and if she hadn’t after four centuries, she likely never would.

“When we are there, as always, I will be the person you see me as with Beron. But they are, as much as it pains me to admit, relatively good people. You can present yourself however you see fit. With the alliance, they cannot report anything of consequence back to Beron, so I will let you determine how comfortable you feel.” He kissed her on the forehead as he moved to the couch to pull his boots on. He was more nervous than anything that Tilly would leave the Night Court thinking less of him once she saw the way they treated him.

With Beron, it was a given. He had to allow himself to be beaten, battered, torn apart because it was what allowed him to survive. But if she saw another group of strangers facing his cruel mask and still verbally abusing him? Would she think him weak? The brand on his thigh practically burned anew with the shame of it.

“Ready?” Tilly asked sweetly, dressed in a beautiful deep green dress with gold and maroon embroidered leaves trailing across the bodice. She was a vision of fall, and despite his nerves, he was filled with pride to be anywhere with her on his arm. He forced a smile to his face, rising and holding his arm out to her.

“Ready.” They walked to the edge of the wards, the day cool and gray, and winnowed quickly off, landing in a dark hallway made of stone. He hated how damp everything smelled here all the time. It was all he could do to force away the horrid trauma from his time under the mountain as the musty smell filled his nostrils and overwhelmed his senses. Instead, he leaned in and placed another kiss to Tilly’s head as she looked around, inhaling deeply and replacing the horrid smell of this place with the only smell he ever wanted anymore.

He went to take her hand and walk towards the meeting place, but she surprised him by stopping him and pulling him back to her. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered low, “I can tell you are nervous to be here. I just wanted to tell you that I love you, and nothing that happens here is going to change that, Eris.” He closed his eyes, fighting a prickling relief in the back of his throat.

Gods, what have I done to deserve her?

He took a few moments just to hold her and allow himself to be held in return before he pulled away, sniffing and straightening his clothes. He held out a hand again to her, and she took it without hesitation.

“To the Court of Nightmares, then.”

++++++

The meeting room, as always, was deserted when they arrived, the overly large table with enough chairs to seat at least fifteen. Eris walked to the furthest seats from the door, leading Tilly and pulling out a chair for her then sitting next to her. She scooted in, grabbing his hand beneath the cover of the table and giving it a firm squeeze. As nervous as he felt, the anxiety buzzing frantically through his veins, he was grateful she’d come with him.

The doors slammed open and, dramatic as always, Rhysand came stomping into the room, dark mists swirling around him like a cloud of flies. Eris fought to roll his eyes, and he felt Tilly stiffen next to him. Cassian and Azriel followed behind him, of course, but Eris was surprised to see Nesta and two females follow in before shutting the door behind them. One was an Illyrian like Cassian and Azriel, though his stomach turned to see the way her wings were shredded. You’d never guess it from her face, though–she looked like she could fight her way through any room she was in. On the other side of her was a female who looked–well–for lack of better descriptors–looked like him. Her scarlet hair pulled back into a braid away from her pale, freckled face. Her eyes, however, were a teal so deep they reminded him of the ocean.

Curious.

Nesta stalked over to stand in front of Cassian, and the two females joined Azriel on the other side of the two large chairs at the head of the table. He felt Tilly twitch beside him as though she thought to stand, but he placed a hand on her thigh to stop her before she could.

All part of the game here.

Rhysand spoke first, his typical bored drawl setting Eris’ teeth on edge immediately. “Eris, a pleasure, as always. I’m afraid we didn’t have the chance to be properly introduced to your bride at the wedding.” He shot a mocking smile across the table, and Eris willed the inferno starting to blaze within him to calm.

Why was this so much more difficult than usual?

“This is Matilda, my wife.” He could see her out of his periphery, and she sat up, spine straight as a queen, staring down her nose at them in practiced indifference. He could have kissed her on the mouth. She did not speak, but inclined her chin in their direction.

“A true pleasure to meet you, Matilda.” Eris felt the snarl ripping up his throat and choked the life out of it before it could take form. He hated the way her name sounded on his tongue. The spymaster, of course, caught the action and smirked, eyes boring into him. “Kier won’t be meeting with you today. Something has unexpectedly….come up. What news have you brought us, Eris?”

“Hmm.” He’d need to come up with a story for Beron about not meeting with him. “More deposits of faebane found in the mountain villa and reported by my personal guard. Again, no stores found, but the evidence had yet to be cleared. Perhaps Beron does not bother, as no one typically goes to these residences without him. We beheld Aradnus and Beron discussing something animatedly the other day. We were unable to glean any information, but it seemed as though they were planning something.”

“So, you’ve got no real information for us, then?” Eris hated this. He felt Tilly twitch beside him, beneath his hand on her thigh. Her face hadn’t changed, but he could feel the tension coiled within her.

“The information I have, I have shared. My guards and I are actively tracking the issue, but I will urge you again to keep your eyes and your generals aware. While I was inclined to believe that Beron is hoarding simply to keep them for himself, the plotting with his second in command makes me believe there may be more nefarious and pressing plans in motion.”

“But you haven’t actually figured anything out, Eris. Surely, you can’t expect me to take this meager report and station a guard at the border?” Eris tried again to push that mask of boredom and indifference back at Rhysand, but he was being more difficult than usual today. He went to respond, but Rhysand beat him to it.

“What do you think, Azriel? Would you waste your time sending spies to Autumn over this hunch the fireling has?” Azriel, the overgrown bat, simply sent a dark smile across the table. He heard Cassian chuckle.

“No, I would need much more evidence than this before I waste any more time than necessary in the Autumn court.” Cassian laughed again, and Rhys smiled.

“Perhaps, Eris, you can do a better job of finding information, then we can reopen this conversation. But if this is all you can give to us, I am starting to doubt the benefits of keeping you around.”

So this was the plan, then. Mortify him in front of his wife. He desperately fought to regain his mask of stone, fought tooth and nail to drag it back over his face and reply with the utmost nonchalance. But before he could, Tilly was on her feet, and Nesta had drawn a sword.

“You will not speak to him that way anymore. Enough.” Rhysand’s eyebrows shot sky high, and the look of shock on Cassian’s face would have been comical if the entire room hadn’t been holding their breath.

“Apologies, dear Matilda. I am simply stating–”

“You are simply posturing, you great peacock. Is this how you treat your allies? You should be ashamed.” She spit the words at him, and Eris did not miss the smirk Nesta tried to hide by pressing her lips together. Azriel’s brows furrowed and Cassian still looked as though someone had stepped on the great hooves he called feet. Rhysand made to speak again, but Tilly cut him off. “Speaking of the benefits of keeping you around, someone has done substantially less in this alliance than the other, and it isn’t Eris. What I see happening here is that Eris is providing you with valuable information to keep you, our court, and Prythian safe, but you’d rather engage in verbal sparring over semantics and berate him for fun. Pathetic behavior, especially for a High Lord.”

Eris was speechless. Tilly had read Rhysand to absolute filth, and truly, despite the amused look still firmly planted on his face, Rhysand looked almost deflated. Tilly looked him up and down like he was mud beneath her boot. She wasn’t done.

“When you’re done playing at High Lord and want to take a true threat seriously, perhaps then we can meet again if we deem it worthy of our time.”

“And if we deem it worthy of our time to tell Beron of your involvement with Night instead?” Rhysand was grasping at straws now, and Eris could tell. Everyone in the room could tell. Tilly did not back down.

“Then I will kill you and everyone you love. And I’ll rejoice in dancing around your funeral pyres.” A knife could cut through the air in the room as Rhysand narrowed his eyes on her, as though finally seeing a new opponent for what she was. “You know nothing of Beron or of what we endure. For us to even be here–” She cut herself off. “Do not speak of things which you have no knowledge of. It’s beneath even you.” She pushed her chair back, and Eris was smart enough to follow suit. She grabbed his hand and made for the door without so much as a parting word to the Night Court.

As they made it to the doors, though, Rhysand spoke again. “Wait.”

Tilly halted, only centuries of training allowed Eris to not slam into her back. “What?” She growled. Rhysand stood from his chair and approached them.

“I apologize, Matilda. It has become somewhat of a game between Eris and I over the years. I had not considered–”

“Had not considered what? How rude of you it might be to be a little extra cruel to him in front of his new wife? How you might try to belittle him in my eyes for the fun of it?” Rhysand had the dignity to cast his eyes down. “What sort of a male are you?”

“I apologize.” He turned to Eris. “I am sorry. We will have our spies in Autumn look into any suspicious activity on the borders.” Eris nodded. Rhysand turned back to Tilly. “I apologize for my actions today. I would never betray you to Beron.” Tilly nodded but did not back down, still lifting her chin to face Rhysand head on. Had anyone ever treated him so bluntly outside of his own family?

She had never been more beautiful to him; she commanded this entire room without a drop of magic used.

“And you will speak to Eris with respect. Brutish behavior does not suit you, Rhysand, and it’s unbecoming of someone in your position. I see the mask you wear, High Lord. Perhaps it would behoove you to see a bit of yourself in others, too.” With those final words, she turned on her heel and exited the room. Eris couldn’t help but turn over his shoulder and give his most stunning smile to the still gaping members of the inner circle as they departed.

Hands still grasped between them, they rapidly made their way through the dark tunnels to the deserted hall from which they came, not saying a word. Eris was a mess, his thoughts swimming all around in his mind, but in the forefront all he could see was his wife, his Tilly, standing up for him, standing against a High Lord on his behalf and scolding him as though he was a child.

He was giddy, he was emotional, he was more aroused than he had ever been in his life.

They rounded the final corner near the alcove where they could winnow out, and Eris pulled her hand back and slammed her against the wall closest to them, crashing his lips to hers. She made a whining sound into his mouth and he was gone. He dragged his lips from hers and pressed them hungrily across her jaw and down her neck, down her collarbone and across her chest. She wound her fingers through his hair and gods, he loved when she did that.

Eris dropped to his knees in front of her as her eyes shot wide. “What are you doing? Some will see!” She squealed, but the darkness in her eyes told Eris she wasn’t entirely concerned.

“Let them see.” He growled as he ran his hands up her legs beneath her skirts, ducking below and lifting one of her perfectly freckled thighs onto his shoulder. It was dark, and he was surrounded by nothing but the sweet smell of her–his wife, the love of his life, his defender, his partner in all things, his best friend.

Her pulled her undergarments to the side roughly and tasted her immediately, the need overcoming him before he could take even a moment to tease her. He could feel her already beginning to shake as he licked long, harsh strokes up and down her. He grabbed a handful of her lovely ass and pulled her even closer, smiling against her as the increased pressure caused her to buck against his face. He could feel her hands clawing through the skirts to unsuccessfully gain purchase on his hair as she spiraled out of control. He inserted a finger into her, then another.

Wet, she was so wet for him.

And he could hear her losing control of the noises she was making as he spun tight circles with his tongue around her clit as she fucked herself on his fingers.

With a strangled cry, she came hard, tightening around him and making him strain almost painfully against his trousers. There would be time for that later.

He slowed his movements and allowed her to ride out the waves of her orgasm, licking the last of her from his fingers as he emerged from her skirts to look up and find her blushed and heaving and undone, eyes looking feral and only at him.

He kissed her roughly on the mouth, but she grabbed his tunic at his hips and pulled his body roughly to hers.

“Mine.” She growled roughly, kissing him again.

And though they were still in the dark, horrid halls of the Hewn City, though Beron still held them beneath his thumb, Eris thought he might be the happiest he’d ever remembered being in his life.

Taglist: @cauldronblssd@queercontrarian@byyalady@thelovelymadone@clockwork-ashes@lovingkelj

[lokisprettygirl]

Lose me to Love you (Loki x Female Reader) (AU) (18+)

Read Chapter 13 here / Series Masterlist

Chapter 14

Summary: A simple question leads to an argument but nobody said a relationship with him would be easy. By the way What is jo upto?

Warning: Kissing, Extreme dark themes, Sexual abuse, physical abuse, public sex, Rough violent sex, 18+, Steamy stuff, age difference ,Rough language, mention of suicide, talk of virginity and slut shaming, manipulative behaviour, mention of trauma, smut, toxic relationship between main characters. Dark themes, cult stuff

"Peter invited us to his birthday party" you mumbled as you munched on your toast, he was making more while you sat in your usual spot admiring his half naked beauty. He gave you the side eyes before he smiled,

"You mean to say he invited you?" You chomped on the toast again as he questioned you, Peter texted you can come or whatever so maybe Loki was right about his assumption.

"He must know that you'll come along" 

"He better, unless he wants his arse kicked" you chuckled as he said that and he smiled in return.

It's been two days since that night he confessed his love, he must have thought you were asleep because he hasn't said anything since then, you didn't get any call from that producer either so you figured that they weren't interested. But it has been two days full of kissing, making out and other filthy stuff, really filthy moments like him looking at you as if you were his most cherished possession, him kissing you at every chance he gets, him making eye contact once in a while while he's driving you back and forth to work. Such indecent moments.

He grabbed the toast from you and took a bite and that's when you snapped out of your daydreaming, sometimes you still felt as if he was playing an elaborate prank on you and would scream 'Psyche' out of nowhere. The thought absolutely demolished you, you didn't think you'll be able to survive that situation.

He chugged on his ice tea as he noticed that you seemed a little distracted so he kept the glass next to you on the counter and sucked on your neck softly, it immediately made you moan in response..

"Now who is lost?" He whispered in his sexy voice. There was a difference between his normal sexy voice and his bedroom sexy voice, the sexy bedroom voice was just the million fold sexier version of his normal sexy voice, it came right from his chest and had a rumbling sensation.

"I'm not lost" you giggled but it ended in a gasp as he grabbed your thighs to pull you closer then he hooked them around his waist.

"Mmhhmmm?" He smiled before he kissed you softly, it was meant to be a peck but it was really hard for him to stop once he had your lips touching his. 

"Remember when I asked you to teach me to drive and you straight up denied?" He hummed in response as you questioned him, his lips traveled to your neck and he sucked a mark "Why did you do that?" 

"Because I want you to stay dependent on me" he responded immediately and it made you bite on your lips, everything he did turned you on for some reason, even when he was clearly trying to be honest about his manipulative behavior you found it rather hot, you just wanted to be dependent on him in more ways than one, you enjoyed the feeling of him controlling you, it would have bothered you if it was someone else but never him.

"That's .. devious" 

"I know..but I won't stop, I thoroughly enjoy keeping you reliant..it's like having a pet who's dependent on me for each and every need of theirs" 

 He whispered so you kissed him intensely, clearly aroused by his nonchalant response. You didn't mind being his pet or his whore, whatever he'd make of you, you'll accept it willingly.

"Goddd you're so hotttt" your hips bucked against the hardening bulge in his sweatpants and it made him moan as well.  

"Wicked little whore, getting aroused by the thought of being owned and controlled?" 

"Yess please daddy, I'll let you do anything to me" you whimpered as you humped against him slowly but he grabbed your hips and stopped your movements.

"Save it baby..you have been patient for so long, give me some more" 

"Fuckkkk" you whined as the sensations started to subside slowly. He smiled as he saw the look on your face, you seemed so out of your mind and he loved it. 

"When do you want to start then?" He asked as he kissed your forehead so you looked at him with a confused expression.

"Start what?" 

"The driving lessons" 

As the evening arrived you two decided to attend that birthday party, none of you were too keen but you figured a party with free drinks can't hurt that bad, Peter wasn't too happy to see Loki and the feelings were mutual, there were hundreds of people at this party, some of the women you recognised as Loki's previous flavours of the night, he had fucked half of LA so It wasn't really surprising, most of them were trying to avoid him but some still hoped for round two.

"The one in green can't stop looking at you..do you remember her?" you whispered in his ear so he looked at the direction you were looking at, he didn't remember her name, he actually didn't remember most of their names. You pressed a kiss on his neck, he looked so good in the black shirt he had on today, he was so effortlessly sexy, even more so now that he was yours. 

"I remember doing her, just don't remember her name" 

"Did you ever feel for any of these women that you slept with? Jolene doesn't count"

"First of all, I didn't sleep with them I just fucked them and no I didn't" 

"Not a thing?" He shook his head as he sipped on his drink. 

"I mean sometimes I felt like a jerk when they took an offense that there won't be a second time " Cocky little shit 

"You fucked Wanda twice" 

"Yeahhh she was an exception..she was fiery, fulfilled my needs " 

"Your need to be hurt?" He glared at you as you questioned him.

"It's none of your business sweetheart " your eyes teared up as he snapped at you out of nowhere, it was a touchy subject for him but you didn't like him being rude to you again, last three days have been happier and you wanted them to stay that way even though you knew it wasn't possible, he had several issues and so did you. 

As you got up he grabbed your arm so you glared at him,

"Let me go okay?" You said to him so he let go of your arm immediately and you walked away to hang out with some of the people from the set. He shouldn't have snapped at you like that but he didn't think he was ready yet to dwell into such things either, this was one of his fears about this relationship, when those women got upset he didn't have to worry or care about them, but he can't treat you the same way. His eyes got teary as he watched you from a distance. 

As he felt someone sitting next to him on the couch he turned his attention towards her.

You watched him conversing with a woman and it instantly made you jealous, he was just talking but it still made you upset. The ride back home was awkward as hell, none of you said a word and you were hoping he'd break first since he was the one who snapped. When you reached home you made your way towards your room.

"What do you want me to do?" He said to you so you turned around to look at him as crossed your arms.

"Well for starters, apologize?" 

"That will fix …thisss?" He used over the top hand motions to convey the awkwardness surrounding the situation.

"No but it opens the way for further conversations" He sighed as you said that. When did his sweet buttons become so mature? 

"Fine…I'm sorry" he murmured but you could tell it wasn't really genuine.

"Why did you snap?" You walked towards him as you questioned, he looked to the side avoiding your intense stare and then he exhaled as if you had him on a pitchfork.

"I don't want to discuss it" you tilted your head at the response, of course he didn't want to discuss it, he never really wanted to discuss the past, neither did you, you both wanted to leave the history behind but it wasn't really helping because none of you had moved on from the said past.

"Okay" you mumbled so he nodded, he was glad you didn't push it too much. He wasn't ready, he didn't think he'd be ready anytime soon and as he stood there thinking about it, all of a sudden he felt overwhelmed by everything, you, this relationship, your life with him. Was he fucking this up even more by involving you romantically with his messed up self? 

"We should sleep in our rooms tonight..just to..you know..to–" before he could think about the things he had to say further you cut him off,

"It's fine Loki..calm down..you're thinking too much..it's fine okay?" You turned around to leave for your room as you really didn't want him to give you those looks of pity.

As you stepped inside you allowed yourself to feel bad about this situation and then you cried, things were going far too well for two people who have been through such hell in life. You heard his bedroom door banging shut and then you heard the sound of the glass shattering , probably the mirror.  You wanted to go talk to him but it didn't feel right after that conversation, it felt like it used to before when he pretended to not care that he was hurting you and you pretended that it wasn't affecting you. 

He was angry, not with you but moreso himself, it all boiled down to him, if he wasn't so fucked up he would have been able to talk to you like a normal person but he didn't know what to say to you, what was he supposed to tell you? That he enjoyed being hurt? That the only time he ever felt a semblance of normalcy was when he was being hurt and felt physical pain? That even if just for a moment he felt like a human who could feel pain rather than just like that monster who had made people suffer and watched them get hurt when he could have helped them?

He was lost in his thoughts when he received a call from that casting guy so he picked it up. They wanted to see you again tomorrow, they were going to offer you the movie, as a lead, he wanted to be happy for you but something just didn't feel right, he pressed Stephen to talk to him first so next day they arranged a meeting with him in the evening, Jane was there too and she explained him everything, 

"Yeah she won't do this" Jane scoffed as Loki said that.

"So you'll make her decisions for her? How's that right? You're just an agent, your job is to help her and not destroy her future" She smiled and it only pissed him off.

"Well that's not your place to comment, I said she won't be doing this and that's going to be her final decision.. alright?" 

As he got up and walked out of their office,Jane glared at Stephen

"Call her directly and tell her that we offered her the movie but her agent denied, send her a gift basket of something as well" Stephen nodded. 

Loki knew something wasn't right with these people, they found an opportunity and wanted to cash in on it, but he wouldn't allow them to use your past for their amusement. You had been through so much and the last thing you needed was for the whole world to remind you of of your traumatic past over and over again.

When he reached home, he went straight for his room, he found it clean so he figured you must have done it while he was gone. 

He wanted to talk to you about this whole thing but he just hoped you'd understand why he didn't want you to do this movie, it was a huge opportunity for you and he understood that but this just didn't feel right, especially with Odin out there. 

You were in your room cleaning up a bit when you got a call so you picked it up, it was Stephen the casting guy. 

"Hiiii ummm how are you?" You mumbled nervously but thankfully he got straight to the point.

"We are sorry to hear you don't want to accept the offer we gave you but hopefully we will get a chance to work in future" 

"Hang on a second, what?" you asked him as you felt utterly confused by this.

"Oh, your agent didn't inform you? We discussed this with him, we wanted you to be the female lead in the next project but he denied on your behalf" 

"I uhh I'll talk to him, but ummm can you just not put a pin in it yet? I'll let you know, I'm really sorry about the confusion" 

As he hung up you felt a wave of anger and disappointment washing over you, why didn't he ask you before he rejected this offer? He has never done this before so it pissed you off even more, was it because of the fight or the argument you two had?

"I'd let you do anything to me…the fuck nottt" you mimicked yourself as you stormed towards his room, he had it locked so you knocked on the door over and over again until you were met with his really stupid but gorgeous face.

"Did you clean my room? You didn't have to but tha--" you cut him off mid sentence before he could rant further  

"You told them I won't do the movie? A fucking movie? As a lead? Are you kidding me?" You had your arms crossed and it didn't need a genius to guess that you were furious, those manipulative bastards must have called you personally. 

"A lead huh? I read the script.. it's a fucking male centric movie with zero substance" he snickered and it only angered you more.

"Soooo? I'll still be the female eye candy..what is it with you? Why are you doing this?" You felt so frustrated that it was all going to turn into a fit of cries "Is this like some sort of punishment for last night? Really? Are we doing all that again?" You snickered and you could tell that had hurt him because he was quite all of a sudden, too quiet for a moment before he smiled, you could see his eyes welling up ,

"You think I'm punishing you by taking away this opportunity because we argued last night?" He asked you so you nodded even though now you were regretting your words, you had gone too far to take a step back now. He smiled even more as he walked towards you.

"What else is it then? There's a sex scene? I have to be nude? They want me to do something obscene?" You took a step back as he continued to walk towards you "Whhyy?" You raised your voice.

He glared at you for a moment and then suddenly it hit you, he was looking out for you, he must know something that you didn't, that's what he has always done, he had looked out for you even when you never asked for it. 

"They want something" you mumbled to yourself but he didn't say anything "What do they want?"

"They want to use you to sell their fucking disgrace of a movie. A girl with a dark past and sordid upbringing, oh!!! look how kind we are to launch her and how generous we are as we took a step to change her life, poor poor girl, she was so lost before we found her, just because she was the victim of a cult that doesn't mean she's not human right? So tell us y/n what was it like at the center? Did you see things that still haunt you at nights? Breaking news : Y/n Y/l/n gets candid with us about her past exclusively..she— " 

"Okay enough I get it" you screamed at him to shut him up, your eyes welled up with tears of disappointment as you realized what they wanted from you, you didn't get the movie just because of your talent, of course not "I get it" you let out a defeated sigh and he chuckled,

"Do you now? Or you still think I want to ruin your life because of a nonsensical discussion we had" He spat at you and you weren't going to take it anymore.

"It wasn't nonsensical..it was about you, I'm sorry if I hurt you..I'm sorry okay? I'm sorry that I came to your room and cleaned it up..Are you upset about that too? Am I annoying you with my nonsensical existence ? If yes then I'm fucking sorry I ever entered your life " you screamed and then turned around to leave, you had alot to cry about today, as soon as people learned about your past you became that girl from the cult, that became your whole identity. He grabbed your arm and stopped you from walking out, you squirmed in his hold but he didn't let go, he should have been the one to control the situation before it went this far, you were about to have a meltdown and this was all his fault.

"Just calm down..relax" 

"Noooo …let me go" you cried out and he shook his head, he turned you around and made you sit down on the bed "Heyy..just stop thinking..you're thinking too much" his heart clenched as you sniffled, you seemed so happy these past few days and he wished he was able to keep you that way but he wasn't, he was a monster and that's what monsters do. They hurt people.

"Stoppp baby stooop I'm sorry ..I'm sorry ..I'm sorry" he whispered as he cupped your cheeks and kissed you softly, your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed him back. And as soon as you had his lips on yours, things didn't seem so bad afterall, you needed him in your life, you always did but you didn't know if he felt the same. You wanted to become more than just that cult girl for him, you wanted him to see you as more than just a responsibility and the girl he had vowed to protect. 

"I hate it that you didn't sleep with me last night" your voice sounded so weak as you spoke and it tugged at his heart strings.

"I didn't want to ruin this more which I know I would have if we were to engage further into that conversation " 

"What conversation?" 

"Don't start it again " 

"We have to talk about it someday "

"No we don't..see this is why I never wanted this" 

He huffed as he stood up and you could hear the sound of your own heart breaking again. 

"Okayyy.. what do you want then?" You looked at him and he was on a crossroad again, a part of him wanted to end this relationship right here and go back to how things were before, but then as he noticed the hurt broken look in your eyes all he wanted to do was give you whatever you needed and whatever will vanquish that look of desolation you carried.

"I just.. I come with a heavy baggage to put it nicely and sharing it will affect you, I'd rather carry that burden on my shoulders alone then have you be a part of it" He said.

"But what if I want to share the baggage loki, what if I want to be the part of that pain that you feel all the time? What if I want to be someone you could talk to?" 

He opened his mouth to retort but nothing came out, he didn't want you to know how fucked up he was, he saved you from that life but he didn't save those other girls, girls like you who could have been something or someone today, they could have been someone's reason to live like you became for him, their images kept haunting him, they had a life that was destroyed by him, a future possibly that was broken because he watched them suffer like a mute spectator. 

"You don't want to be that person sweetheart, trust me okay?" 

"You don't know me Loki, you don't know how much I love you"

"I know you think that thiisss thinggg between us is true love but it's not, it's really not, there's nothing like true love darling ..just comfort and security, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop wanting to ruin that for us" you wiped your tears as he finished speaking, there was no getting through him, at least not today. If he didn't love you then why did he say it two days ago?  

"Okay so this thing between us is just comfort and security for you?" 

"That's not what I meant" 

"I think you don't even know what you're saying right now" he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, maybe you were right or maybe you were not but he didn't want to argue or make you cry again today. He had done enough. You could feel your heart in your mouth, you didn't know what he was thinking and that scared you "So are we still together together or we're going back to whatever we were since you said you didn't want this"

Your voice kept breaking so he walked towards you and sat down on his knees in front of you, he wanted you to stop hurting right this moment even though he knew he was the reason why you were even in this situation, you seemed so happy yesterday, he was capable of making you feel that way so why couldn't he just give you that? 

"I don't want us to go back to what we were darling, I desire you like this as much as you desire me, it's not one sided" his thumb brushed against your cheekbones so you leaned against him, his words did calm you a little.

"Okay I believe you" he wiped the tears that fell over your cheeks then he kissed you as passionately as he could to show you that needed you like this, he wanted to give you everything but he couldn't give himself to you completely, atleast not those ugly parts of him that he knew would make you want to run. 

He laid you down on the bed slowly as you kissed him with utmost desperation. 

"I'm sorry darling, please forgive me" he mumbled, his voice sounded tender. This was genuine, you could feel it.

"It's okay, I'm sorry too" 

"No you don't have to be..you don't have to be baby"

"I still am..i just want to be there for you.. not just in these happy moments but those as well where you are not feeling so good" he was about to say something but his phone started ringing so he took it out of his pocket, his mouth didn't leave yours though as he continued to kiss you, he picked it up and turned the speaker on before he placed it next to your head. 

"Hello" you giggled as he mumbled against your mouth, you lifted your head up so you could kiss all over his neck.

"Lokiii it's me ..Jo" you heard her voice and it immediately irked you but then she started crying so you looked at him.

"Are you okay?" He asked her as her shattered voice worried him.

"I'm not..I'm not Loki..a man broke into my apartment and threatened me" he got off your body and picked up his phone. You felt worried too but you really doubted her intentions as well.

"Did you see him? What did he look like?" he feared that it was Odin but her response shocked him.

"I couldn't see him, he had a mask on but he said he was your brother, loki I think that was your brother Thor" 

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

An : Honestly not my favourite chapter but it had to done.

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