#and get cut loose like a ball&chain

[bandomfandombeyond]

I am home alone and sad about it -- but not with any conviction, I just have the lingering ennui attendant to knowing someone you love is having fun without you

[concretecultist]

Pomegranates & Pleasure

summary: a hot, steamy, sensual night with Noah (requested)

pairing: fem!reader x noah sebastian

word count: 4.8k

warnings: 18+ !!! smut, shower sex, mentions of lube (bc sometimes we need a lil help), allusion to blood kink if you squint, p in v , oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, this could be a loose installment to the “Kingdom Come” universe

A/N: as always, be sure to comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it helps us writers out a lot!!🩵

~Berry🫐

—————

Noah had only been home for a few days, just getting off from tour and he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, saying that he needed to make up for lost time but honestly you weren’t complaining. Especially when he walked in the front door with a shit-eating-grin on his face along with bags in his hands. With an arched brow, you tilted your head at his ornery demeanor.

“What are you up to?,” You were sitting on the couch in one of his t-shirts, a simple pair of black cotton panties underneath and a novel in your lap.

“You’ll see in just a few, I gotta set everything up,” he rushed over to kiss your lips and you could hear the mischievous tone in his voice as he rushed off to the kitchen and then up stairs to your shared room. Noah was always the type to plan surprises like this, each one being better than the last and it always started like this, the playful yet nervous look in his eyes and always telling you to be on standby.

So, you continue flipping the pages of your book, immersing yourself into the content. You didn’t really pay attention to how much time had passed, finding it better to fully distract yourself and almost forget that he’s getting his surprise ready so that you’re not a sitting duck with an anxious tummy.

“Baby,” he sang, such a happy tune that had you grinning from ear to ear and somehow, it grew even wider when he stood at the bottom step with his hand extended, waiting for you to get up and take it.

You rushed over to him, bouncing on the balls of your feet while looking up at him.

“What have you got planned?,”

“Nothing like we’ve done before, so I need you to keep an open mind,” raising his brows as if he’s waiting for any hesitation from you.

“I’m sure it’s going to be great, baby. You always make it great for us,” sultriness bleeding into your tone, your hand running up his stomach to his chest over his black tank top, twirling his chain with your pointer finger, “I’m getting excited so why don’t we head up there, yeah?,”

With a simple smirk, he threads his fingers with yours and leads you up the dark stairs and down the dark hallway to your room in which a deep maroon glow is emitting from below the door.

The aroma of fresh fruit and cream make their way into your vicinity, setting off your olfactory senses and triggering a physical response from you, stimulating your body before you’re even fully in the room.

When you cross the threshold, you see candles lit everywhere, a blanket spread out on the floor with a glass plate. On that plate is a cut open pomegranate, its juices pooling beneath the bloomed fruit. Alongside the pomegranate, are cherries, whipped cream and an expensive bottle of red wine with one of your fanciest glasses.

Your mind takes you to the possibilities of what’s to come and you can feel your body beginning to vibrate with excitement. This was about to be a night of luxurious highbrow adventures.

“Wanna sit with me?,” he gently pulls you over to the blanket and sits first, bringing you down to sit right in front of him.

“What inspired this surprise?,” popping a cherry in your mouth, admiring the fact that he took the time to take the pits out.

“Oh, y’know,” he shrugs, opening the wine and pouring you a glass, taking it upon himself to hold it by the stem and tilt it toward you, he wanted to feed you the wine. He’s in a trance over the way your lips wrap around the rim, eyes going dark as the crimson liquid adorned your lips.

“Just a sucker for making my girl cum under red lighting”

You almost asphyxiate on your wine, caught off guard by his nonchalance of what he just verbalized.

“Oh?,”

He just sends that signature smoldering look and scoots closer to you after setting the wine down and handing you the glass. His hands immediately find your thighs and begin massaging them as you sip away and eat your cherries.

“Plus,” he began, “You deserve it. You deserve to be doted on. Holding me down and supporting me while I’m on the road, it’s the least I could do,”

“You know it’s no problem, honey,” voice dropping an octave, scooting closer to where your arms are around his neck and your legs are around his waist while his legs are still stretched out around you.

It didn’t take long for you to finish your wine, setting the empty vessel to the side, and it definitely didn’t take long to feel the beverage coursing through your veins.

Your eyes flickered down to his lips and he didn’t even give you a chance to lean in before his hand is on the back of your neck and your lips enter a dance, moving to a tempo you two made, the moans and whimpers escaping being the ad libs to the song your bodies created. The both of you are grabbing at each other, just needing to feel the other beneath your fingertips.

Noah pulled away for air to stare at your wet, kiss swollen pout, humming in satisfaction. He reaches over to pluck a cherry off the plate, it’s soaked in pomegranate juice and it drips onto your chin when he brings it to your lips. He surprises you when his tongue licks it away before it falls onto the blanket without a trace. When he pulls away he whispers to you

“Open for me, Pretty,” the pet name making your heart skip a beat

You follow his command with ease and he presses the soft cherry onto your tongue with his thumb. In the midst of looking him in his eyes, your lips wrap around the digit and he audibly groans at the sensation. Withdrawing with pop, you slowly chew the cherry, swallowing the tart bulb.

“It’s about to get a little messy,” Noah admitted, his hands making their way under the top you claimed as yours, “Gonna undress you. Gonna treat you so good,”

The space was getting hot and you weren’t sure if it was due to all the candles or if it’s because you have an idea of what he had planned and it excited you with how erotic it is.

When you’re bare in front of him, he props you up on a few pillows. He reaches for something out of view and you don’t really care to follow his hands, he just looks so good like this, the line work of his tattoos popping under the ruby lighting, his hair framing his face and his muscles taut under his skin. You just wanted to pounce on him.

A small bowl comes into view, a deep hue like blood but with the fluidity of water.

Pomegranate juice.

“I told you,” he grabs one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, pouring a small of the juice on your ankle, mesmerized by the trail it makes down your leg, “This is going to be messy,”

He dips his head near your core, kissing on your inner thigh, then flattening his tongue to lick his way back up to your ankle, lapping up the trail of the juice.

The sight of watching him lick fresh fruit juice off your legs had your pussy throbbing, bucking your hips up just for a little something, but he repeated this motion a few more times just to get you worked up. Sucking and biting like you’re a cool, ripe mango on a hot summer day. Little sighs and whimpers falling from your lips, just wanting him all over you.

Then he crawls forward, softly kissing your lips when his fingers begin circulating your clit.

“Open that pretty mouth for me again,”

Following his directions, he fed you some pomegranate seeds, “Keep yourself grounded, we don’t want you choking,”

He didn’t give you time to reply before he’s pushing his lengthy fingers into you, immediately curling when you begin to chew. The flavor coating your taste buds, taking over your senses as he moves within you, causing your head to fall back when swallowing the sweetly sour seeds

“Baby, that feels so good,” muttering softly, your pussy drinking in his thrusting fingers. You don’t flinch when you feel juice being poured down your neck, dripping to your hardened nipple. Noah catches a glimpse of this and instantly wraps his warm, wet mouth around the bud, drinking in the flavor of the juice and the taste of your skin. His fingers sped up as his thirst was getting quenched, his tongue flattening once more to lick up to your chest until he’s latching onto the sensitive spot on your neck.

Your moans bounce off the walls, your hand tangles in his hair, pushing him further into your skin, pathetic noises fall from your lips while you beg unabashedly. He retreats to feed you more of the jewel-like seeds and drips more juice over your torso, sucking and biting on the flesh that awaited his arrival.

Noah made sex such a beautiful thing. It never got boring and right now, he’s making you feel like you’re the rarest fruit and he’s the only one deserving to taste it.

He is.

The red juice paints your body like he’s a vampire who is carelessly drinking from his apprentice, letting the life force drip past his teeth.

“Fuck, Noah. Baby, please” feeling his tongue and mouth all over you with his fingers deep inside had you reeling.

When he pulls away, you’re under the impression that he’ll pour more juice on your skin, except his fingers come into view and they have fluffy white cream all over them. You notice the tub of whipped cream beside him, wondering when he was finally going to use it.

He holds his fingers to your lip, playfully swiping some on your bottom lip and smirking. His fingers still move inside of you when he leans forward to lick the whipped cream off your lips and push his tongue into your mouth. The sweetness of the whipped cream along with Noah’s natural taste was a delicious combo and it gets even better when he pulls away to insert his fingers into your mouth, pressing them onto your tongue once more. The top notes of the sugary cream in addition to the middle notes of the cherry and pomegranate juice and the base notes of his flesh was intoxicating.

His eyes never left your lips, they were so pretty and plump as they wrapped around his long digits, so long that when you pushed forward to suck them clean they hit the back of your throat but you were unfazed.

Noah was captivated by the fact that he had two fingers in your mouth and two in your soaking pussy and both holes were beckoning him in like a siren’s song.

“Do I taste good, baby?,” his voice low and his eyes dark

“Mhm,” you hum, not wanting to take his fingers out of your mouth just yet, there’s just something about tasting him like this that had you weak in his grasp.

“You gonna cum for me?,” he bends his neck for his lips to brush against your cheek, both hands working you out and you’re almost there when he pulls his fingers away to bring more whipped cream to your mouth.

He’s hitting the back of your throat again and you spread your legs wider for him to get deeper. He’s hitting every sweet spot and at this point, you’re in such a daze that you don’t care that your saliva is dripping from around his fingers, dripping down to your bare chest. You’re moaning like a cat in heat, legs trembling, breathing heavily through your nose, you were right there, so close.

You were about to whine after he took his fingers away from your needy mouth once more. But much to your approval, he’s bringing them back, but only to spread more pomegranate juice over your pouting lips.

The fingers that were coaxing you to orgasm were going hard, drawing you closer and closer to the edge and you were finally pushed off when he’s kissing the juice off your lips.

“Mmmm!,” your body is twitching as you ride out your high, face scrunching as your orgasm washes over you. You become weak and pull away from him and fall back onto the pillows he had set beneath you.

He gives you a few beats to catch your breath, taking this time to lick his fingers clean, savoring the taste of you.

“We’re not done,” he sang, amusement dressing his tone. He grabs a grocery bag and begins digging in it to find something, “I know shower sex can be uncomfortable so I did some research and found some lube to help us out. I asked the lady at the shop and she recommended this,”

Noah was right. Shower sex wasn’t always the most comfortable, strictly because the water washes away your arousal, causing discomfort and friction that was unbearable. So you grab the bottle of lube from his hand and read over the label- interested in what the product has to offer.

“Okay,” you nod, smile growing, “Yeah let’s try it,”

He’s eager, eyes shining in exhilaration, pulling himself up off the ground and helping you up.

“There’s one more surprise,” he calls over his shoulder as he walks you two into the bathroom.

“You’re just full of those tonight, aren’t you?,” happy that you’d actually be getting in the shower, the remnants of the juice starting to get sticky.

He doesn’t reply, only opens the shower door, allowing your eyes to scan the space to see what he had set up. At first you frown because you don’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Then you see it.

A fresh, shiny detachable shower head that seems to sport many different settings.

“Oh dear,” your eyes widened. You know what you were in for. There was only one time that you orgasmed from water and it was when Noah held you with your back to his chest, pinning your legs so they stayed open all while the bath faucet beat down on your clit, making you cry out for him from the intensity. Now there’s a new variable in the equation and you just know he wasn’t gonna play nice.

He could only chuckle at you, shaking his head when starting the water and stripping himself so you both stood there bare.

“Hop in, baby,” he tapped your butt after helping you tie your hair up.

The first half of the shower consisted of Noah genuinely helping you clean up, scrubbing your back, massaging your neck, bending down on his knees to wash your calves and feet. The intimacy of the soft actions had you yearning for him once more, just wanting him to press you against the cool glass door and take you how he wants.

Then you feel his lips on your legs, making their way up until he’s at your neck, his hands on your hips, grinding against your pelvis and without him asking, you lower yourself onto your knees. His cock stands out from his body, his back to the shower head and when you look up, he looks like a sexy villain. Steam flowing past his features, his dark wet hair framing his face, water beading on his tattoos, he just looked too good to not slurp up.

Thus, with no hands, you guide him into your mouth and you hear his sigh, taking delight in the way your cheeks hollow as you suck him in.

“Fuck, Sugar. You’re so good to me,” he presses a hand against the cool tile to brace himself

“You take me so well. So proud of you, baby,” he bucks his hips forward just a bit, the sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat was overloading his mind. He was always so sensitive and responsive to you. Knowing this fact always gives you butterflies.

You place your hands on his thighs, just so you could feel his skin while you please him. The muscles under his hot skin were tense so you took this time to massage them, a nonverbal way to tell him that he’s okay and that he needs to relax. That thought of relaxing was pointless though, considering you picked up your pace which had him groaning loudly into the hazy space.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that, fuck you’re such a good girl for me,” his other hand comes to the back of your head to bring you forth, letting Noah follow his indulgence in setting the pace he desires. You love how empowered he became when you were on your knees for him. You loved sucking his soul out, you adored observing the way his mouth hangs open, loved when his lashes flutter and you always find it cute when his cheeks burn strawberry red. You were doing that to him. You were blessed with this view.

Before he got too carried away, Noah pulled your head away, creating some distance between your mouth and his throbbing length to bend down and kiss you with an urgency that said ‘I’m ready to rearrange your guts’

He stands you up along with him and lifts you up to set you on the built in ledge of the shower.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered, taking in your form, he just had to stand there and drink you in, “So lucky to call you mine,” he steps in between your legs just letting his hands roam until he goes for the lube.

You brush his hair back out of his face so you can see all of him, such a candid scene in the moment as he prepares to make your soul his once more and you’d give it to him over and over again for as long as you live.

The lube wasn’t cold as it spent time warming up in the shower with you but the slickness of it did take you by surprise, mixing with your own arousal to make this moment sustainable and pleasant.

“Just gimme one more on my fingers,” he begged, Noah adored feeling you cum on his cock but with his fingers it was distinct. Feeling your walls pulse around the tattooed appendages was different because with each thrust of his fingers he felt like he was the moon and you were the tide, like he was literally pulling each orgasm out of you, plus, seeing how brain dead you go for his fingers was always a sight for sore eyes.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, soft eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth. With how he’s thrusting alongside the ease of the lube, you’d be cumming in no time. You brace your hands against the steamed shower door and the white tile wall all while you begin rolling your hips to meet his thrusts.

“Such a good girl for me,” his free hand coming to cup your cheek, “You like making me proud, don’t you?,”

“Y-yes, yes!,” you stare into his eyes, just wanting to give in a glimpse into the world that he put you in, everything he did to you felt overwhelming and he hasn’t even dicked you down yet.

He uses his thumb to circle your clit, adding a pressure so delicious that your ears begin ringing. He’s got that taunting smile on his face when he speeds his fingers up to the point your back is arching.

“Please!,” your wail bounces off the tile and you’re going hazy eyed. Fuck, does this man know how to make you melt.

“Please what, Sugar?,” he knows what you want, he also knows that words are so hard to put together when you’re like this, but he makes you say it every time, no matter how long it takes, he won’t give you what you want until you say it.

“C-cuu-,” you’re fighting for your breath as you try to form your plea

“C-c-cu-,” he chuckles, he finds joy in ridiculing you and your cheeks start to burn at the shame of knowing it’s what brings you closer and closer.

“Cum! P-please can I.. can I please cum!,” he always makes your first one easy, but after that he wants to hear you cry for it, he wants you a mess in his hands as you bear your soul to him on what you need.

“Give it to me,” his mouth wraps around one of your nipples, your hand quickly flying to the back of his head to hold him there, reveling in the sensations of his teeth nibbling on your sensitive bud, his fingers deep inside and his thumb circling your clit and you’re unraveling.

“Oooh, fuck,” gasping for air while the tremors take over your body, “Yes, yes, yesss!!,”

Your pussy tightens around his fingers as you cum for him once again. He keeps his head against your chest and you feel the vibrations of his laughter reverberating off your skin as the sound makes its way to your ears.

“Don’t laugh at me!,” slapping his shoulder as he pulls away and he can’t help but kiss your pouting lip.

“I just love how you let go and give your body to me,” he shrugs, kissing all over your face, rejoicing in the squeals you made trying to fight him off.

“You okay for one more?,” Noah steps away to reach behind him for the shower head, setting it beside you two as takes lube and begins stroking himself.

“I dunno, you tell me,” you wrap your legs around his waist, using your heels to pull him in and you sigh happily when you feel his tip brush against your entrance, “I’m always ready to give you more,”

Neither of you say a word when you weave your hand between the two of you, taking Noah’s slick cock in your hands, rubbing the tip against your clit and down to your hole, both of you exhale in tandem.

You guide him inside of you and he gives a low laugh at the way your eyes roll at the feeling of him filling you up.

Noah kept a hand on your hip and the other by your head, pressed flat onto the wall as he began rolling his hips. His jaw drops when your walls wrap and pulse around him at every angle. He’d never get tired of how good you feel because each time he found something new to love. Like this time, he notices that somehow, the pulsing inside of you had matched his heart beat and it had his stomach fluttering.

“Noah,” you beg, “Faster, harder, please,” You didn’t want it slow and sensual anymore, you wanted it hard and steamy, the kind that had you clawing at the walls and your voice cracking.

Noah climbs on the ledge with you, on his knees while your legs are spread open around him. The water on your skin splashes lightly while his hips smack against your ass. You were thankful you two had decided to add this ledge when upgrading your bathroom because with the pace he’s going at, you two would have fallen already. But he’s grounding you in place and vice versa.

“Can’t wait to fill you up,” he whimpers, “Can’t wait to watch you fall apart on my cock,”

He was such a masterpiece, like he was something pulled out of someone’s imagination come to life.

“Baby,” you huff, already feeling yourself ready to cum again. He knew what you were asking for, so he took the shower head and changed the setting to the steady jet and goosebumps arose on your skin.

“Just be a good girl and take it,” he leans back to watch you when he places the strong stream on your clit and you’re swiftly trying to pull away from him but he’s not having it

“What do we do when it’s too much?,”

“We… w-we breathe,” you grunt, hands slapping on the wet tile beneath you.

“So breathe, Sugar,” he instructs, continuing his torture on your clit and setting his pace back to what it was, “You know you can be as loud as you want, I don’t care, just don’t run from me,”

He was right, he always drank in your sounds like they were the fountain of youth, he just wanted to give you the pleasure you deserve.

“Noaaaaaaah!!,” a deep exhale escapes your chest, the water pressure was perfect, so good, inebriating even, but the way it was beating down on your sensitive bundle had you ready to shatter like beautiful stained glass.

“I know,” Noah shuddered, the angle he had the jet stream at was beating down on his length just below his tip each time he withdrew from you, “Fuck, baby, I fucking know,”

You were both vocal messes, he used the fingers of his free hand to dig into your thigh and you used your nails to dig into his.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you cry out, you were drowning in pleasure and soon it would overtake you like a strong wave.

“Please,” he groans, “God dammit, yes, cum for me,” Noah leans forward to press his forehead against yours, his signature move to let you know he was close, he loves being as close to you as possible when you both let go.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, keep looking at me, Sugar. You can do that for me c-can’t you?,”

“I dunnooooo,” your breath hitches along with your body and you know that’s not the answer he wants when his hand comes to grip the back of your head, pulling you in to kiss you so hard you think your lips will bruise, but it’s okay, it feels good. He’s nipping at your lips, teeth are clashing with need and tongues dancing. You felt like you were in your own personal porno but with real passion, real feelings, real pleasure. The steam from the shower was getting thicker, the temperature of the water felt so good and it wasn’t washing away the lube so the friction was immaculate.

“That’s not good enough,” He growls, “You know that’s not an answer your King wants to hear,”

His pace was earth shattering, it was chipping away at your composure and you were about to fall apart.

“So let’s try again-,”

“Yes!!!,” you yell, “Yes! Yes! Fuck… I… I can do it, please!,” your hands are framing his face, holding him close to you as you can feel the heat building up, “Noah, please say yes, I need to cum please, please can I cum, I’m always so g-good for you please!,”

Hearing you grovel had his hips faltering and he was about to crumble right along with you.

“Please,” you squeak, tears in your eyes, toes curling so hard you know they’ll be cramping later.

“Show me what a good girl you are,” he demands, holding the shower head at an angle that sets all of your nerves into overdrive.

“Noah, fuuuuuck!!,” eyes wide, fighting against the urge to close them, his name and profanities flowing out of your mouth as you cum around his cock, just like he likes. He kept the jet on your clit until he was done and it had you crying out in overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” his mouth hung open against yours as he shattered to pieces, “So… f-fucking good,”

You felt him throbbing inside along with you as he spilled all that he had to offer. Both of you muttering I love you and words of assurance to calm the other back down. When you both seemed to catch your breath, you shared an intimate kiss, slow and lazy but the passion was there, no words were needed.

Washing up once more and getting yourselves out of the shower. You help Noah clean up the mess in the room and you scold him for letting the candles burn out of eye sight.

“We were caught in the moment,” is all he says, pulling you into bed with him, spooning you while he runs his hands over your body to help ease any tension in your muscles.

“You take such good care of me,” you mumble, yawning as the exhaustion is finally setting in.

“You do the same for me,” he assures, planting a kiss on your bare shoulder, pulling you in even tighter so he could feel every inch of you possible.

“Now rest up, I’ve got another surprise for you tomorrow,”

HI!! as always please make sure to comment and reblog as it helps us writers out big time!!

i thank you all for your love and support and can’t wait to hear what you all think !!

tags: @lma1986 @widowsofchaos @whatitsdecending

[peterthepark]

𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐀̄𝐒

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ graphic smut, rough sex, roleplay (elf princess x knight), dirty talk, oral sex (m!receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected piv, breeding kink, brief hair pulling, creampie, wannabe game of thrones x lotr

summary: you and eddie indulge in some roleplay sex and enjoy yourselves way too much.

note: based off of this post! thank you for the cool smutty idea!

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

Your quavering voice echoes from the other side of the bathroom door, accompanied by a soft jingling of bells and the rustling of skimpy chainmail. There’s an uncertainty to your tone, a meekness and an innocence that has Eddie reeling at the newfound softness of his usually-confident and loud-mouthed girlfriend. 

“I would never stoop so low to disrespect the Princess like that.” He quips, an excited smirk tugging at the twitchy corners of his lips when the knob rattles with a click. He drops to a whisper, wedging his forehead in between the doorframe and the shut door. “Hey, I swear on my life, baby.”

“Fuck, you so owe me after this.”

“I’ll pay you in orgasms. How does that sound?” 

Hesitantly, your flustered face peeks out from the crack, hands swatting at him as he immediately tries to reach for you. “Can you at least close your eyes and let me do a grand reveal?”

“Are you trying to get me to cream my pants?”

You arch an unyielding brow, amusement dripping like honey in your next words. “But don’t you want to fuck me, my knight?” 

Silence. Utter silence. 

Now, that seems to shut him up. Eddie’s palms come to raise in a playful surrender, his plump bottom lip jutted out as he pedals back into the couch and plants himself down with a submitting, quiet thump that lets you know you’ve got him already wrapped around your little finger. 

“Are your eyes closed?” 

Impatiently, he shifts on the leather cushions when he feels your ethereal presence fill the living room, fists balled up beneath his loose tunic as filthy thought after filthy thought begins to permeate his melting brain. “Mmm, unfortunately.”

You clear your throat, rolling your shoulders back anxiously as you smooth your trembling hands down your body for one final time and properly straighten yourself out. “Okay, here goes. Open them.”

His lashes flutter wildly in awe as he stares across at you, pupils darkening and irises clouding when you card your nails through your hair, attempting your best to look all coy and alluring. Eddie’s mouth runs dry as he drinks you in — a silken skirt sits lowly on your waist, one singular rectangular cloth drapes down your crotch while your thighs remain exposed by high cuts in the rich fabric, adorned by gems and beads that run layered across your midriff. The matching bra is held up by delicate chains that connect to the elegant choker around your pretty neck, little to none left for the imagination as wispy curtains suspend down your arms and shoulders, a complete paradox to the lack of clothing on your body. 

Your skin glows despite the dim yet quirkily romantic candlelit lighting of Eddie’s trailer. Your makeup remains dewy and diaphanous while an artificial blush landscapes over your cheeks and nose, eyelids glittery and sensually droopy from all the attention your boyfriend can’t help but give you.

And to top it all of, the fucking elf ears that peek out from between your generous locks of hair.

His elven princess.

“Ser Edward?”

“Fuck, babe.”

“Ser Edward.” Your voice is firmer, steadier now that you’re able to read his obvious expressions, like the wrinkle between his brows, the hungry purse of his lips, the nervous sheen of his flushed skin as you slowly approach him — even going so far to add an exaggerated sway of your hips. “Do you like what you see?”

“I do. I… Princess…” Eddie gasps out as you swing your legs on either side of his lap to straddle him, your arms linking behind his neck as you gaze down innocently into his lust-blown eyes. “I don’t believe I am worthy. Worthy of touching you. Worthy of…” You nudge your nose against his, urging him to go on. “… of even seeing you when you look like this. It is forbidden, Princess.”

“Are you not an honorable man? Do you lack honor?”

“I am the most honorable man in your kingdom.” He tilts his head up towards you, his words spilling warmly into your open mouth. You breathe each other in, grasping at his biceps and chest desperately. “Which is why we cannot do this. I said an oath to the Gods, to you, and I cannot break it.”

You rock yourself against his growing erection, arousal building between your thighs with each purposeful roll of your hips. “I say fuck your oath.” 

“Princess Y/N…” You cup his cheek, stroking your thumb beneath his eye and hovering over his lips. “I am your sworn protector. Your guard. Your servant. Your knight. Without this title, I am — I am nothing—“

“You are lowborn.” His hand comes up to the side of your throat. You bare it to him, thrumming under the heat of his flesh as he delicately traces the outline of your jaw. “You are mortal. Ordinary. Powerless.” Eddie whines when you press your cunt down against his clothed cock, eyes screwing shut when you take his hands and cup them over your tits. “Yet here I am, making a whore of myself for my handsome knight. Please, Edward… would you do me a favor? Do me a favor and satisfy your elven princess?” 

Eddie physically shudders.

“Christ, you’re good at this.” He whispers, a serious shift in his demeanor. “Like really good. You’ve never done this before?”

A cheeky smile starts to spread across your glossy lips as you lovingly tilt your head, “Are you seriously breaking character right now?”

He snarls as he paws at your hips, dramatically bringing you flush against his chest with a curled upper lip. “If we do this, Princess… if I fuck you, you must promise me that you won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” 

“Not even my closest confidants shall know.” You bat your lashes at him, gliding your nails across his goosebump-riddled collarbones as you nip at his throat with your teeth. “Bed me. Bed me like a common whore.” 

“Is that what you desire? You want me to fuck this highborne princess cunt, claim you as mine, sneak into your quarters just so you can have your way with my cock?” He rambles, pushing your hair away from your face as his thumb and forefinger holds you tenderly by the chin, forehead bumping against yours. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You cry out when he reaches for your nipple, pinching it through the bra. “Kiss me, then. Kiss me, Eddie.”

Eddie dies. Right then and there. He becomes putty in your arms, complete deadweight beneath you as he caresses your jaw and roughly pulls your mouth down onto him. His tongue works against yours, taking and taking when his palms venture down your torso, feeling for your tits, your belly, cupping your mound from underneath your skimpy skirt. “Pretty girl, I wanna see you.”

“Do you want to watch your Princess touch herself?”

“Oh, my god — yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.” 

He whines when you peel your lips away from him, a beady string of saliva connecting your hot mouths as you gracefully roll onto the couch, palming at yourself as Eddie carelessly tosses his tunic over his head. The moment you part your oiled legs, he’s fucking rushing to take his trousers off — yet you don’t make any moves to assist him, just watch your knight hornily struggle with the complicated drawstring of his breeches, not even bothering to take it off completely before he’s pulling his bare, reddened cock out for you. 

You lay back against the arm of the couch, one hand roaming your body while the other circles a finger over the wet nub of your clit. Eddie rests on his stomach, tugging on his meaty prick with a tight fist as he watches you — his breathing is uneven, his eyes wide and bright while he takes in the sight of your spread pussy, your small fingers slick with cream as you tease yourself. 

“Look how wet, my love.” You mewl, breasts spilling out from the cups of your bra. Eddie feverishly licks at his lips with a lusted hunger, the tip of his cock leaking with beads of pre-cum while you masturbate in front of one another. “S’all for you. All of it. Do you want to feel it?”

“Please?” He rasps brokenly. Only then do you realize how his hips are rutting against the leather seats, his abdomen rippling with every sloppy stroke that leaves his trembling body. “I want to have your mouth while I touch you.” You nearly groan when his thumb flicks across your swollen meaty clit, his eyes glancing up at yours to take in your pained features. “Am I asking for too much, baby? Wanting my cock in between those perfect lips?”

You nod wordlessly, your blissed-out gaze following Eddie as he rises from the couch and positions himself beside your head, lazily fucking his cock with his own hand before he’s feeding it to your mouth. “You’re so big…”

“Am I? Bigger than any of these lords and kings, aren’t I?” He chuckles lowly, hissing when your throat flexes around the throbbing head of him. “Take it. God, yes — fuckin’ take it.” His voice breaks, murmurs spilling from under his breath. “This is so hot. Oh, fuck — this is hot.”

“Mmm!” Your quivering thighs threaten to shut when Eddie pushes a finger into your cunt, juices dripping down your ass as Eddie works his knuckle against your greedy hole. “Ser!”

“Baby — oh, yes… please, please, more. Gimme this mouth, fuck.” He’s fucking whimpering, his voice higher and pitchier than usual as you attempt to swallow his cock down, fighting the urge to gag when his large balls slap harshly against your spit-covered chin. “Princess, need to… need to fuck you. Put a bastard in you — fuck, you don’t know how good you feel right now, do you? Your cunt and mouth just — just sucking me in, trying to be closer and closer…”

Reluctantly, you pull off of his cock, wantonly gasping for air as tears start to prickle at the corners of your eyes. “Please. Wanna ride you. Wanna ride my knight’s cock and make you cum.”

“Such a goddamn whore, Y/N. Fuck, I don’t — don’t think I’m gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.” Eddie’s hair falls into your mouth as he reaches down and kisses you despite all the wet saliva and spit, maneuvering you into his strong grasp so that you’re sat planted atop of him. “Ride me. Make me the happiest man in the kingdom and ride me, sweetheart.”

And you do just that. Without question.

You guide his leaking, angry tip between your folds, feeling the shaft of his cock begin to stretch out the gummy walls of your cunt — the familiar burn of it, the squelch of your cum mixing together as you lower yourself down onto him, one hand braced over his pec while the other reaches behind you to keep him inside. He’s balls-deep, the bush of hair around his base nestled against your pubic mound as you start to set a pace. A roll of your hips. A slap to your ass. A muffled plea into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as you bounce on Eddie’s hard cock. 

He forces himself to look at you. Forces himself to admire the fantasy he’s made of you — the whorish Elven princess just using him for her pleasure. Forces himself to memorize the way your puffy breasts heave for him, the way your parted lips glisten with pure want, the way your clit is practically dripping from how turned-on you are.

“I love you.” You whisper, head up high and tears glimmering in your eyes as he looks to you. “I love you, Ser Edward.”

The image of your fucked-out expression and beautiful elf ears burns itself into his breeze of memories.

Fuck, he can’t take it anymore.

Hungrily, he kisses down your arms, biting and sucking and licking at your chest till you’re bathing in marks — tainted by him, tainted by bruises and hickies and god-knows-what as Eddie wraps his arm around your waist and thrusts up into you from the edge of the couch. You sob into his neck as he pulls you down by your ass, harsh and braven with his movements when you dig your nails into his muscled shoulders.

“I need to — need to cum in you. I love you. I love you. Fuck, Y/N. My fucking — fucking goddess.” He manages to grit out, nearly drawing blood from your bottom lip when he nips at the flesh. “Gonna fuck you from behind. Show you what it’s like to be a common whore. See how your kind likes it when I give it to ‘em dirty.”

You yelp loudly when he scoops you up and flips you onto your knees, wholly abandoning the couch and pushing your arched form down onto the carpet. You glare at him over your shoulder, moaning in your haze of pleasure as he parts your ass cheeks and easily plows his cock back into you. “Eddie, so — so much. It’s too… m’sensitive.”

“A spoiled princess that can’t handle lowborn cock.”

“Eddie, please!”

He suddenly grabs you by a fistful of hair, your elf ears nearly falling off as he sits back on his haunches and ferally spears his shaft in and out of you. You’re gushing around each drive of his hips, your hands digging into his inked thighs as he places his lips to your sweaty temple — a stark contrast to the way he’s violently handling your body. 

“A pretty Elf that just wants to be filled.”

You cry into his neck, babbling incoherently into him. You don’t know what you’re begging for. Begging him to stop? Begging him to go faster? Harder? Slower? To just throw all wind out the door and forget the roleplay?

“Baby…”

“Are you going to cum, Princess?” He slurs, visibly pussydrunk as his eyes start to cross and roll back into his skull. “Fuck, I’m gonna — gonna breed this cunt. Gonna watch it spill with my… fuck, with my seed. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I love you — I love you.”

The coil in your belly snaps when Eddie’s thrusts stutter.

You spasm, letting out a choked string of curses and moans and you don’t fucking know where these sounds are coming from, but it’s a chorus of sobs and deep grunts — wild and ferocious as Eddie’s fingertips dig into your supple hips and your cunt draws his milked cock deeper inside. 

“Dear god…” You sigh out, your palms gripping onto the carpet for dear life as you go boneless in your boyfriend’s arms. He catches you, a wide palm guiding you kindly by your lower belly so that you can lay against his sticky chest. 

Your eyes flutter open when he places a wet, gross kiss to your cheek. One that makes you laugh at the theatrics of it all. One that brings both you and Eddie down from your chaotic highs, easing you into a peaceful, low lull. 

“My Princess.” Eddie growls fondly into the tangles of your hair, biting at your earlobe. “I hope my service was… of satisfaction.”

You chuckle, reaching back to pet at his cheek. “It was, my knight.” 

“Did so well for me. Thank you, thank you for trusting me.”

“Thank you for having faith in me.”

You wince when he pulls his cock from your cunt, an uncomfortable gush spilling from you as his half-hard erection sits against his stomach. He tsks audibly at that, knuckles swiping against the slick channel oozing with his thick spend. You have to hold back a laugh when your pussy bubbles with more of his cum, the lewd noise echoing throughout the empty trailer as Eddie envelops you and cradles your head to his heart.

A content, satisfied hum leaves you as your boyfriend continues to kiss down your riddled frame, his lips tracing over the newly-birthed hickies that litter your glowing complexion, smoothing his warm tongue over the bruises down your arms.

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Yeah, babe?”

You can literally feel his smile spread against your skin.

“When can we do that again?”

[januaryembrs]

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard. 

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already. 

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears. 

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger. 

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly. 

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line. 

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about. 

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour. 

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard. 

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl. 

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?” 

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog. 

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails. 

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy. 

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven. 

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with. 

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in. 

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was. 

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode. 

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous. 

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was. 

He was just a kid. 

They were just kids. 

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult. 

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him. 

And if that had been true, then where were they? 

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering. 

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours. 

Which was when he ran to get his dad. 

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank. 

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks. 

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been. 

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier. 

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son. 

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together. 

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave. 

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about. 

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien. 

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel. 

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,” 

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other. 

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do. 

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him. 

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military. 

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell. 

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was. 

-

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life. 

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again. 

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning. 

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,” 

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on. 

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it. 

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left. 

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly. 

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated. 

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder. 

“I missed you too,” 

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here. 

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person. 

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,” 

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly. 

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together. 

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias. 

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway. 

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard. 

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest. 

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. 

She was a mother. 

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip. 

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers. 

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body. 

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again. 

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?” 

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself. 

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite. 

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him. 

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight. 

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.  

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked. 

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way. 

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely. 

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them. 

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,” 

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?” 

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave. 

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in. 

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.) 

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful. 

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-” 

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely. 

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset. 

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes. 

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them. 

[darlingdarkly]

Here’s a short little fear piece I wrote. Inspired (very loosely) by the movie Hush

CW: immense fear, blood, knives, Ghost is literally trying to kill you

This contains dark content! I am not responsible for your media consumption! Reader discretion is advised!

1.3k words

You don’t so much as round the corner as you crash, hips first into the metal garbage bins against the far wall trying to dip off the street and out of view as quickly as possible. You fall and a broken groan is punched from your throat as something hard and unyielding jabs you in the ribs. Your hands hit the ground in an attempt to catch yourself and they land in something that’s wet and smushes underneath your weight. A sour pungent odor blooms beneath your nose, burning your nostrils and you instinctively cringe away from it.

You don’t have time to check your injuries, though you’re sure you’re bleeding from at least one knee as you hastily pick yourself up out of the garbage and leap back into a sprint.

He rounds the corner just as you get to your feet. He’s tall, the street post behind him casting an ever lengthening shadow over you as he closes the gap. You sob and sniffle as you try to put as much distance between you and him as possible. You want so desperately to look back and see if he’s gaining but it’s a luxury you can’t afford; chances are you’ll just fall again and then the knife he’d used to slash your back with will sink its steely edge into your throat or your heart or your liver and then it’s over.

So you don’t look back, just scramble down the alley as the pounding of your heart and the soles of your shoes echo off the dense brick walls and berates your ears with their deafening boom. You stumble and nearly trip over your own feet scurrying away from him. The alley narrows and you pray to whatever deity will answer that this isn’t a dead end because if it is you’re fucked.

Your back stings, the tacky blood sticks your shirt to your skin and it pulls at the lips of your wound with every pump of your arms. Your left hip throbs and your lungs are burning, you’re worried you’re very quickly running out of gas. You won’t be able to keep this up much longer and now you fear you’re only prolonging the inevitable.

Your sneakers splash in a deep puddle, splattering foul water up on your shins but you hardly notice as you bang, face first, into a chain link fence that caps the end of the alley. On the other side is another lamp post and you dare a look over your shoulder to see he’s only about forty feet back.

You have no options, it’s climb or die so you mount the chain, fingers pushed through the links as you scramble up the side. The top seems impossibly high and you anticipate the arresting grip of his iron paws at every second. You get a leg up over the top and throw your body weight over the side, toppling over the edge and falling onto the pavement on the other side, there’s a curt wheeze as the air is punched from your lungs at the end of the drop.

You pick yourself up quickly and nearly fall again as you stumble back from the thin chain barrier separating you from him. It’s nothing but open street behind you and the ancient primal part of your brain is screaming at you to keep going but all you’ve done is run and he’s just kept coming. So you gather the last of your nerve in a desperate bid to appeal to whatever human compassion may still reside in the monster that’s been chasing you down like a sadistic beast for the last eight blocks.

You swallow harshly and it catches in your windpipe, making your first attempt sound like choked garbles.

“Please!!!” You swallow again but your mouth is dry and nothing goes down, not that the tight ball of fear that had become your stomach would accept anything even if it did. Tears cut wet paths through the oily sheen of sweat that had permeated your skin as they flowed freely down your face.

You force your gaze from the darkly gleaming street to the figure standing ominously in the shadows, just out of reach of the light. Like if he stepped into it too quickly it’d burn him like flame. Your breath hitches as he moves, stepping out of the pregnant darkness, polluting the light.

It’s your first good look at him and the glimpse of white mask you’d seen earlier turns out to be a stark white skull. Dark brown orbs peer out at you emotionlessly from the eye holes. He’s abnormally large, the breadth of his shoulders nearly scraping either side of the alley walls. The chain link fence creaks and bows with his weight as he leans forward onto it, resting his forearms just above his head.

There’s a bright golden flash as something metallic catches the arc sodium light and it glints cheekily back at you. You’ve felt its bite and now you get to observe its shape. A wicked downward sweep, reminiscent of a tiger's claw, with a pinprick point juts from one meaty fist. It’s hollow grind is still dripping with your life’s blood, the deep red of crushed cherries.

You try again and find it easier the second time around, though your pitch still fluctuates erratically. “Please!! Please, just go!!! I—“ Your hands tremble and you force them to your sides to steady your nerves, try to alleviate the shake in your voice. I h-haven’t seen your face. I won’t say anything!! Won’t even call the police I swear!! Please!!! Just go!!”

He’s eerily silent and you think for a moment that maybe he hadn’t heard or perhaps didn’t speak the same language as you. His head slowly lolls to one side, cocking at a near forty five degree angle and something about it makes your blood chill.

You’re paralyzed with terror as the hand not gripping the knife pulls away from the fence and bunches the fabric around the base of his throat in his fist before slowly but seamlessly peels it back from his face and pulls it over his head.

You’re left with the image of a dead pale face, marred by pale pink and crisscrossing scars. There’s a deep one cut through the plump skin of his lips, beginning just under one nostril and ending in the dip of his chin. There’s another bisecting one thick chiseled eyebrow. His nose is crooked, probably broken more times than he’d kept count. His jawline is strong and supported aptly by an impossibly thick neck. Wispy, arrant strands of hair gleam in the golden light, amplifying their natural blonde hue.

Despite his flaws, if it had been under any other circumstances you’d find him almost devastatingly attractive. But currently instead of devilishly handsome you only found him to be devilish and so held him with disgust and an inordinate heap of terror.

“Run.” It’s the first time you’d heard him speak and it’s almost too low for you to hear. The deep rumble of rolling thunder sounding over the horizon, a warning from a far distance.

“W-what?” His mouth twists into an ugly scowl, brow furrowing, nostrils flaring as he repeats himself, getting louder with each word, like a train whistle gathering steam.

“I said RUN!!” The last word he bellows, a roar that jumpstarts your legs and sends them into overdrive as you stumble back from the fence like his voice carried a physical blow. The chain link rattles violently under the force of his fist as he smashes it against the gate in unbridled rage. You turn on your heel and bolt for the mouth of the street, veering right and running blind as you pray you can escape his clutches on the second try, your life depended on it.

[anna-neko]

Welcome to another episode of "let's cosplay an audio-only chara!" because sometimes the brainrot lies dormant for months and suddenly.... (goin to live show needed a new outfit)

Scary Marlowe - the Sophomore Slump album

details and whatnot rambling under cut

basic concept was easy enuff: make another t-shirt. "Shit Garden" needed a break, now its time for this

The font seemed basic enuff to copy out and then I'm sittin here like... how to...draw circles... a wholeass ball? (btw no printer access)

frellin BLESS Terry for pulling out his graphic design skills and making me a fantastic ball stencil! He even did a size readjust after my hasty tests the night before

.......anyway, the black shirt had for over a year. It was supposed to be for a Scorpion Slut logo, but scorpions are impossible to draw/cut-out at this detail (aka my lack of skill lvl)

So! because was terrified would fuck up, did a test run first. T'was most educational, seeing how much seeps out and heat needed frm blowing hot air vs ironing over

Kept peeling off bits, readjusting (negative space be dammed), running back to trace out a failed letter (hey kids, want easiest way to fake a light table? ANY backlight works. window, glow of the monitor...) and try again.... (did "O" so many times, its no longer real letter in my brain)**

**MOST OF THIS WAS HAPPENING IN FRIEND'S BATHROOM

Went OCD as fuck getting everything super blocked-out on the actual shirt once was ready to commit

This shirt wasn't painted, but bleached, and i wanted only the words/logo in and nothing else. Clearest outlines, no stencil far edge outlines, no bleed mess

Yes you can see a pin holding on the "hole" of a letter. When I say wanted crisp outlines, that wasn't a joke

of course - irony be dammed - after this part was done, went back and Very Carefully splattered lil bit with my brush. In a highly controlled way

Also the secondary loose concept is ...well.... the first shirt (Shit Garden) she angrily tore at to be punk and all, but this one.... this one was an old team souvenir... Thus soccer ball on both front and back

For this reason (slightly more 'treasured' if you will), the rips were far less chaotic. The hem is left intact, and the neck a careful trim to show she wasn't blindly goin at it with scissors. Ditto on sleeves

Still freehanding this, but folding stuff in half to at least pretend symmetry, ya know?

there's no "Butthole Ricochet" branding ... snuck in a lil Warlock symbol at sideseam instead

New skirt! It has stars!! ★★☆☆★★ she IS a rock star for her album dammit (and it goes on w/ the stars of the barbwire-and-stars long-sleeved shirt frm before)

Everything else (bracelets, fishnet armwarmers, skelenimal scrunchy, etc...) are frm previous incarnations. Tape-measure continues to live on the hip chain

No jar of horrors daddy magic memories, instead there's a funny lil resin charm Terry made (he also once again helped with safety pins AND contributed a few black and white new ones for the sleeves)

The thigh-highs no longer have purple stripes in them (no purple on this one whatsoever, byeeee Omega Patron poison)

Exact same style have used before with alternating sheer & solid stripes, but fully black! (@sockdreams out there continuing to miraculously have Always what am looking for!)

[sarahs-secrets2]

She's got a boyfriend anyway... (Phillip Graves x Reader) 18+ ࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Hiii this is my first ever fic/drabble on Tumblr! Once upon a time, I wrote a social media tom holland fic on Wattpad (its so bad I swear), but the Phillip Graves brain rot is so strong (you've prob seen me in a TikTok comment section thirsting), and this idea I've had has been consuming me so I decided to finally write it! Any feedback is appreciated <3

Loosely based on t1975 song Sex!

gn! with mentions of a boyfriend throughout story (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: swearing, SEXUAL TENSION, cheating, light nsfw, pet names

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

“Yeah it's been alright here so far, ready to go home though,” you spoke into the phone with your back leaned up on the dresser in your room at the Shadow’s base which was basically in the middle of nowhere, you couldn’t remember the name and the jet lag wasn't helping.

As the voice on the phone droned on, you instinctively started to pace around the room, now reaching for a frame of you and your boyfriend, who happened to be the voice that just sounded muffled to you now as you examined the picture like it was the first time you had seen it. The photo was taken about a year ago, it was a cute selfie from some date after dinner, a half-assed smile snuck onto your face as you recalled the memory. The framed photo was a going away gift from your boyfriend as you were whisked away on another secret Shadow’s mission. 

“You still there?”, his voice cut through your thoughts, setting down the photo and leaning back onto the dresser resuming your previous position. “Yup, just tired as hell,” you felt bad for not being able to uphold a conversation but it was hard being in different time zones, he couldn't blame you for that, could he?

Trying to bring your focus back onto the conversation, a knock on the half-cracked door made you jump as you peered over to see who it was. 

Phillip Graves, your commander. 

The Shadow Company, after being with them for 4 years, at that point had become your second family. Working your way up through the ranks you slowly became Graves' second in command. Between the two of you, there were always some unspoken feelings, but they needed to stay that way. You had a boyfriend, a boyfriend of 3 years, a boyfriend who you loved. At least that's what Graves had to tell himself so he wouldn't continue to obsess over the idea of being with you, in really any capacity. You had always inadvertently flirted with Phillip, it was just your nature, and he was easy on the eyes. “Me or him”, Phillip always asked, part jokingly, part serious, which he would never admit. He didn't have to specify you knew what he meant. “I can’t answer that Graves and you know it,”. It’s what you said every time. 

Graves waved at you from the doorway, he had taken the pleasure of swinging the once-cracked door, all the way open. He had a tendency for ignoring signs of privacy. Still, on the phone you lifted your index finger up, signaling for him to wait, you were about done with your boyfriend anyways. 

“Yeah, love you too, talk soon”, clicking the phone off, and standing up off the dresser you walked over to greet the commander now in your room. You hated that you were looking forward to talking to Graves more than your boyfriend. 

“Was that the old ball and chain?”Graves knew how to piss you off. “Seems you're jealous you don’t have someone to have phone sex with, Commander” winking back at him, you were in a mood tonight. Graves' face winced like he had been injured, playing into your quip. “Sweetheart, I don’t need phone sex, I can get some here whenever I want,” taking steps towards you, instinctively you walked backward trying to avoid him getting closer. The way he spoke with his southern drawl made your face hot if you could stop it you would. You weren't supposed to feel like this towards another man. 

“How is he?” 

You knew Graves didn't care, he wanted you to think he cared. “He’s fine, all the same back home”.

“You miss him?” 

This one took you by surprise, because honestly you didn't, and you were a shit girlfriend for it, maybe it was the job that distracted you, maybe the lack of sleep, or maybe the handsome commander standing in front of you that made you forget about your “old ball and chain” back home. 

“Distance makes the heart grow fonder darling, at least that's what mama always tol’ me”, you had noticed his accent got stronger when talking about home, something about a southern boy and his mom. The disapproving look you gave Phillip hinted he probably shouldn't push, some internal battle he shouldn't prod at. 

“What made you come in here in the first place, Graves? Just to see how my boyfriend is, I know how fond of him you are”, Graves scoffed, “I don't even remember anymore,” his hands went up in defeat, “I’ll see you tomorrow yeah”, a soft smile crept along his face and he started to turn out of your room. 

“Wait, Phillip!” trying to grab his attention before he disappeared down the barrack hallways, “Do you have a spare shirt, the rookies messed up laundry so I haven't been able to do anything yet and I need something to sleep in ''. This shouldn't have been an awkward question, you both were comfortable enough with sharing clothes and it wasn't new for either of you to help out the other. This time felt wrong though, you felt shy and almost dirty asking your commander for a shirt to sleep in, was it too intimate?

“Follow me, you can pick out your favorite”, he held your door open signaling you to lead the way to his room. The air felt different, something was different between the two of you, you just couldn't put your finger on it. By the time you reached his room, a pit formed in your stomach, playing it off as you leaned next to the door waiting for Phillip to unlock it. 

“Top drawer on the right, pick a comfy one”, Graves relished in the idea of you wearing his shirt. He felt like he had won this unspoken battle between him and your boyfriend, he didn't bother to ever learn his name, it wasn't important. 

Rifling through the drawers you found a worn gray cotton polo undershirt, holding it up in the mirror, it looked perfectly oversized. “I think I found a winner,” you turned to face him still holding it up, “What do you think?”

“I think you took my favorite one”, Graves' hands went to his heart like he was in pain, a fake frown painted his face, making you laugh. “Go ahead and try it on sweetheart, make sure it fits the way you like before you head back,”

“No peeking Graves” you walked towards the bed with your back to Phillip, stripping off your previous top, and slipping the new gray one on. Turning to face Graves, who was now leaning on top of his desk in the corner of the room. 

“C’mere, let me see how it looks' ', you could feel his eyes on you as you walked towards him, immediately feeling shy, you shouldn't be feeling like this.

You have a boyfriend at home 

Maybe if you kept telling yourself this, the butterflies in your stomach from Phillip would go away. 

His hand outstretched to you as you reached him, still leaning on the desk, he raised your hand above your head, “Let's see it, darling,” as he slowly spun you around to take in a full view. You could feel your heart rate rising, something was different tonight, the causal flirting all of a sudden held so much more weight between the two of you. “Looks better on you than me, I’ll tell you that”, Phillip was chuckling to himself as he took both of your hands in his, pulling you in between his legs. 

“What are we doing here Phillip?” 

“Whatever you want to do '', he said it so matter of fact it almost made you sick, was this cheating? You felt dizzy, bringing your hands to your commander's shoulders to balance yourself, his hands went to your waist as he pulled you closer. 

Your hands slowly made their way up to his face, almost as if they had a mind of their own. Graves could feel your internal battle as you took in every detail on his face, a finger tracing his scar while he watched you. 

“Look we don't-”, you didn’t give him a chance to finish the sentence as you pulled him into you, pressing your lips to his. Both of you acting like it was your last kiss on Earth, feverishly pulling at each other for more. Graves stood up from his previous leaning on the desk, still connected to your lips, directing you towards the bed.

Fisting at Graves' shirt as you pulled his top off, and slipped the one you had borrowed a mere minutes ago off as well to match his current clothing situation. He towered over you in the bed, connecting to your neck, which was definitely going to leave a mark in the morning. Your hands found their way to Phillip’s hair as he continued to mark you as his, even though you weren't. 

The guilt set in as you realized what was happening. You were a cheater, it made your stomach hurt thinking about it. Phillip sensed a shift.

“What's wrong, doll?”

“I have a boyfriend, I shouldn't be doing this' ', you said barely above a whisper, sitting up and looking around to make sure this wasn't a dream. “Hey, hey, it's alright, we don't have to do anything,” Phillip gave you a sincere smile, it only made you feel better for a second. 

The worst part was you wanted him, but couldn't. 

“You got a boyfriend anyway… I shouldn't have pushed it '', Graves was now sitting off the edge of the bed, putting his discarded shirt back on. “Don’t blame yourself, I wanted it just as bad”, punching his shoulder lightly hoping to lighten the mood. A small smile was thrown your way in return. 

Graves stood up from the bed, bending down to grab the borrowed shirt and tossed it over to you. “Fix that boyfriend problem, and maybe our guilty consciousness won't stop us next time, how about that?”, he was leaving the door open for you, he was willing to wait. “Yeah I should probably end it, I feel like shit”, the borrowed shirt now back on as you sat on the edge of the bed where Phillip once was.

“Can I stay here tonight, I don't want to be alone,” glancing up at him, hoping he would say yes, it would be too embarrassing if he said no, especially at this point. “Of course sweetheart, whatever you want to do”, his hand snaked around the back of your head and pulled you towards him, placing a small kiss on the top of your forehead. “I'll go get you an extra blanket,”

Graves came back motioning you to lie down as he covered you in the blanket he had found and then slipped into the bed next to you. “Thank you, Phillip, I really appreciate it,” you were now facing him in the bed. His hand moved to brush some hair out of your face, “Anytime, get some rest I take it you got some things to take care of tomorrow”. 

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

Part 2!

Thank you for reading! There's def room for a part 2 if anyone wants it!

[bucknastysbabe]

Just Like You

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,470

Tags: Targaryen!Reader, Aemond’s twin, Everyone Has Issues, Criston you dirty creeper you, Violence and war, Aegon is still an idiot, the princess is batshit, pnv!sex, blood play, rough sex, age difference, power play

A/N: He’s a deeply flawed and dark individual and I wanted to play on that. Good ole hypoCriston my love. Criston art by @CheRo_Art on reddit :)

Criston watched and advised the princess while she ran through drills on a dummy, blunted tourney sword moving in quick jabs. She had already mastered archery and maneuvering in close combat. For a girl, she was just as fierce as her twin Aemond.

Although she lacked that calculative coldness that he held. The princess was hot headed and loose of tongue, quick to shoot a cutting barb. Her braided hair shone like pale beaten gold in the sun.

“Plant your feet, lest you’ll get knocked over,” he said.

She snarled and did so, hitting the dummy with a loud ‘thwack’. Criston’s lips involuntarily turned up. The princess was a good fighter and craved to be the best. Alicent or her Septa used to drag the girl from the yard howling. The queen allowed her daughter to train under him when it became apparent Aegon would rather waste away in his cups.

She’d grown from a lanky girl into a woman before Criston knew it. She was leanly muscled and leggy with sharp features. The spitting image of her twin, the princess carried long straight hair like Aemond. She twisted it into braids to keep it out of the way.

She paused to take a swig out of the wine skin, wiping sweat off of her forehead. Her purple eyes were focused on him, frighteningly intense. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Criston hummed, “What’s on your mind, princess?” Her braids swayed when she stretched in a half-circle.

“When will I get to fight you, Ser Criston?”

He laughed while her features grew pinched.

“This is not a jest ser.”

He leaned against a wooden fence, sizing the young woman up. Clanking of swords echoed in the background, Aemond himself unleashing a barrage on a knight. She held her ground, defensively crossing sinewy arms. He shrugged, “Fine then. How do you think you’ll fare against the morningstar?”

“Bring it Cole.”

He sauntered to his weapons and pulled the familiar spiked weapon out, giving it a twirl. Grabbing a shield he turned to her expectant gaze, eyes flashing with excitement. He shot, “Go on girl.” Her eyes narrowed expectantly— Criston knew every weakness by now.

They circled around each other, her on the defense. He was proud of that, emphasizing to the Princess that she needed to wait for an opening and parry them down. But that was for the average man, Criston was aware he was no average man.

He lazily whipped the morning star around, drawing closer. The Targaryen huffed in annoyance, holding herself at arm’s length. She spat, “C’mon with it!” He gave a crooked smirk in return watching her scarred knuckles whiten in anger. She was growing impatient with his lazy circles.

With a cry she launched forward with a downstroke of the sword, Criston easily blocking it and striking at her side. She parried the blow with her shield and struck again. He stated, “You will wear yourself down princess.”

“I’m tired of waiting!”

Aemond had stopped his training to watch with an amused smirk. He stood imposingly, eye flickering around their spar. She shifted the sword up, batting the morning star backward. Criston punched the shield forward to her open shoulder, sending her stumbling.

“Don’t open yourself up like that.”

She grimaced in silent rage, holding the shield in a more protective place. He parried two more jabs and swung down on her shield with a deafening crack. She held ground and stepped back to gather herself. He taunted, “Let’s go then, thought you were itching for a fight.”

She hissed and attacked again, this time landing a smart blow to his side. Criston winced and clashed the spiked ball around her sword, the chain wrapping around the iron blade. He pulled, sending the instrument flying. She cried in surprise and bashed her shield against his own, staggering the knight.

Criston sent the spike down in an arc, cracking the wood of her shield. He demanded, “Yield.” She shook her head and tried again, the wood splintering up even more. The Kingsguard repeated, “Yield before the shield breaks and your face is torn.”

She threw the broken thing down in frustration, tears welling in her dark eyes. The princess growled, “That was awful.” She paced over to the water, slugging some down. Criston watched as she pounded her fist against the unforgiving wood, face not indicating the pain she inflicted. The wild princess had a strange habit of that, said it focused her mind.

As a result, once fair skin was constantly mottled with scarring and open sores. It reminded him of Alicent’s picked raw nails, the mutilation an outlet for their roiling inner emotions. He strode over to her heaving frame, placing an arm on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off petulantly and hissed, “I don’t need your pity, Ser Criston.” He shook his head and praised the girl, “You did great. Do remember you’re sparring with a vetted member of the Kingsguard and Marcher skirmishes.”

Wine colored eyes bore into him with heat. He shoved down a memory of another’s fiery purple eyes with a bob of his throat. Clapping interrupted the stand off. Aemond approached with a smirk. He drawled, “Good fighting sister. You’ll be a force when war comes to our door.”

She grumbled, “I hope so. I’d like to not be stuck on Skysinger for every battle.”

Aemond tilted his head, “I’m sure Skysinger would enjoy seeing her rider fighting too.”

She gave a smile to her brother— more of a humorless baring of teeth. Criston noted she internally weighed herself down with duty and excelling in what would be a man’s endeavors. Filling in for Aegon’s shirking of anything worthwhile. He wondered if the serious young woman ever loosened the constant tightness in her shoulders.

She said, “I’m going to wash up now. Thank you for your guidance Ser Criston.”

He watched her stalk away, a peculiar feeling in his chest. Part of him wanted to see the princess covered in the filth of battle, bloodlust fully awakened. Cole’s waning moral side wanted to stash her in a tower and keep the princess safe. He knew better with a dragon like her. Couldn’t be put down. She craved a warrior’s life, idolizing the great Visenya like a god of old. He wouldn’t deny the Princess that. Especially with the king on his deathbed and plans stirring. He didn’t have time to dwell on silly feelings for now.

Days Later

Criston was tired. Aegon was to be crowned this morning, as was his birthright. The whore Rhaenyra could burn in seven hells for all he cared. He knew Aegon could be manageable under guidance, down deep the young man craved love and acceptance above all else. Criston would be the guidance he needed. Otto was weak.

Aemond was pissed after the escapades this morning, Erryk escaping like a coward to lick the Black’s boots. The blonde paced around the chambers, face screwed up in thought. His twin was perched on a table, legs rudely spread under her dress. She picked at her nails with a knife. Her blonde hair was combed and pulled back into intricate braids.

Criston felt she did not look right in the green samite dress— leggings and thick boots fit the younger sister more. She too looked uncomfortable, unused to the finery draped on her warrior’s build.

Aemond ranted, “How are we to make a powerful statement when he’s still drunk and weeping?”

“Should’ve let the sot run off to Essos,” the princess japed, still focused on her nails.

Aemond paused, giving his twin a withering look. He deadpanned, “The fool would die within a fortnight.” The knight chided the two, “Do not speak of your future king like that. He’s sobering up and we will all enjoy the day.” The princess sucked her teeth, rolling a bruised shoulder. The prince returned to his pacing.

He leveled the twins with a look, “Best get to the training yard soon after, there’s a war coming.”

She grinned. Aemond’s lips cruelly twisted.

Weeks later

Duskendale was in ruin. They had thoroughly routed the port town. Lord Gunthor Darklyn was beheaded. Aegon and his sister bathed the streets in dragon flame. Criston couldn’t forget the sight of her pale braids flying in the wind as she cracked her whip on Skysinger and howled, “Dracarys!”

Aegon remained on dragonback while the princess unleashed Skysinger to feast on the town while she cut down foes on foot with glee, blood painting her pale features scarlet. Even whilst giving orders and fighting, Criston could see the blood lust in her eyes.

Now they camped outside of the burning mess of the town, gathering for the march to Rook’s Rest. In the hastily drawn grand tent, the Hand looked over the map of the seat of Lord Staunton and the surrounding areas. Aegon was celebrating their win— slinging Arbor red around with a busty maid in his lap. He slurred, “My dear ‘alf sis’ser will send aid to Lord Staun-ton and we’ll take that dragon out the sky like Aem’ did to lil’ Luke!”

The princess snapped, “If you’re going to behave like a Flea Bottom lecher get out of the tent! What will your precious Sunfyre do if it’s the Blood Wyrm or the Red Queen, hm?”

Aegon blinked dumbly.

“Daemon and Rhaenys have twice the experience and their mounts are older than ours you lackwit!”

The princess hissed, jerking her shoulder at Criston, “Lord Hand we are at war and our King is lit up like Oldtown!”

Aegon of course couldn’t come up with a response, cheeks pinking in embarrassment. He murmured, “I’ll be in my own tent then, fucking bitch.” Criston sighed, rubbing his forehead, “I’ll come get you later my king, enjoy the victory. Everyone is dismissed until the morn.” Criston was glad of Aegon’s decent ability to slink away and rage elsewhere. Non-confrontational.

The princess scoffed in indignation, mouth hung open.

Criston jabbed a finger in her direction, “Not you, princess.”

The other lords and knights murmured, one japing about the princess’ balls of Valyrian steel. As the last lord filtered out, he inclined his head to the map. She stalked over, still clad in her armor and rough leather emblazoned with the golden dragon of her brother. The princess dug her bloodstained hands into the worn table.

Criston inquired, “Since you know so much, what do you suggest my princess?”

Merlot orbs peered at him, lids squinted in suspicion. She stepped closer into the Hand’s personal space, smelling of her house’s motto. Fire and Blood. The blonde declared, “They know we’re here, even my idiot brother knows that,” the knight frowned as she continued, “Ambush. Send Aemond on Vhagar, I’ll keep watch back at the Red Keep. They won’t expect that.”

She had a good idea, along the lines of what he was thinking too. The knight japed, “How surprising of you to offer up a battle to Aemond and Aegon. You make our king upset as is,” he gripped her arm roughly, “And you will stop doing that. We must remain united.”

The princess held his intense gaze, breath heaving. She was pissed at his admonishment. The girl hissed, “I wait for a greater win. Aegon can have Daemon or one of the Velaryons. I want the bitch.” Her aquiline nose almost touched Criston’s own when she said, “Maybe Aemond will be the only one to return and we shall have a better king.”

The knight twisted her arm behind her back, bending his princess roughly across the rickety table. She yowled in anger, unable to move, a whimper of pain escaping. Cole threatened in her bejeweled ear, “Speak ill on your King again and you’ll go home to the black cells without a tongue, dear girl.”

The princess wriggled against Criston’s strong hold, grunting with effort. Her toned ass rubbed against the Hand’s own breeches, causing a reaction he knew was brewing. She spat, “Let me go, you know me to be right, he’s worthless! Aemond and I were raised correctly under you!” He only used his other hand to shove her cheek into the map.

Criston swore, “You’re too keyed up to think rationally— the heat of the battle has your thinking warped. Always were a bloodthirsty, hateful one weren’t you? That’s why they couldn’t find you a suitor.”

He grinned at the helpless writhing, her cheeks a delightful red, tears at the corners of her long lashes. She weakly retorted, “Says the one who killed old Beesbury and beat a man’s head in at a damn wedding. Is that why Rhaenyra scorned you as the men do me?”

Rage filled Criston’s chest at her jab. His cock swelled with blood at the exchange of barbs— her relentless rutting to get free. The princess made another weak noise, eye’s frantically darting around. She tried again, “Let me go, Cole!”

“No. You need a lesson. Obviously I didn’t teach you to shut your godsdamned mouth when speaking to superiors. I’m disappointed, truly. Spitting such vile and unholy things.” He twisted her arm a bit further, eliciting another cry. She struggled more, the fight slowly dying.

Soon the princess grew limp under his pin, panting breathlessly. Criston hummed, “Good girl. You do have ears after all,” he loosened the pinning hand on her head to cradle that lovely pale hair. The girl whined softly, eyes clenching shut in embarrassment.

“What do you say, girl?”

A soft reply was his answer.

“M’sorry. Lord Hand.”

She was still limp under his body, lips closed up now. The princess swallowed thickly at the feeling of Criston’s heavy cock slotted between her ass cheeks. He huffed in laughter, “I don’t know why bad girls like you always get me going. You bring out the worst in me, princess.”

She seemed broken down, mewling another apology. So the Dornishman let go of her arm and allowed her some space. He felt that the fiery woman had calmed some, maybe wanted a fuck now. He sure did— maiden bless his twisted soul.

Next thing the man hit the ground with a ‘thunk’ and clanging of armor. Cole’s damn favorite princess straddled his strong hips, both hands tightly curled around his throat. She grinned, spittle flying from clenched teeth, “I don’t know why bad knights get my cunt soaked but here we are, Ser.” She tightened her grip, Criston scrabbling at the crazed Targaryen’s gauntlets.

“You’re a dirty man, Ser Criston, getting hot over the girl you’ve sworn to protect since birth.”

Using his strong core and legs the older man flipped her onto the ground. On top, he ripped her hands from his bruising throat, cock ready to bust. She wrapped long, lean legs around his waist and rasped, “Fuck me, Ser Cole, take my maidenhead. Spill my blood.”

In his eyes she had never looked so lovely. Blood stains, wild braids, manic eyes, and a wide grin. He ground against her clothed cunt and grunted, “You’ll take my cock and not shed a tear. I didn’t raise you to be a weeping maid.” Her eyes narrowed, guttural moan erupting from a pale throat. He scolded, “Should’ve known you were acting, mean little bitch.”

Their lips and teeth gnashed together in a feral manner— grunts and moans as two alphas fought for dominance. She pulled and tugged at his armor, knowing the ins and outs from a small stint of squire work. The whole time she nipped and licked into his curved lips, drawing blood. The princess moaned at the metallic taste, eyes rolling up in her head.

Criston pulled back to yank off his loosened armor. Little by little his olive skin was revealed to her purple eyes. He cursed, “Start undressing princess.” She arched her hips up for Criston to shuck down her leather leggings and pulled at her jerkin and mail. More barbs were exchanged as their covers were slung around.

The former kingsguard laid out his cloak for her body, not wanting to rut in the dirt like complete animals. She ran sharp nails teasingly through his chest hair and abs. Criston was mesmerized by her milky thighs and pert teats, milky white and tinged pink. She was lean, but statuesque and just as gorgeous as the maiden intended.

“Fuck- you’re a sight,” he murmured.

Ever impatient, the princess pulled Criston’s body flush to hers, moaning excitedly at the feeling of his hot prick against her weeping cunt.

She rubbed her small breasts against his broad chest, lashes fluttering erotically. The blonde chanted, “Fuck me ser, fuck me, make me bleed, c’mon.” She grew frantic, seizing his lips with desperate whines.

He tried to calm her frenzy by grabbing her sinewy thighs and securing them around his waist. He groaned lowly at the feeling, licking into her sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Criston promised, “I’ll split you open princess, fuck you good, gods forgive us.”

“Fuck the gods,” she spat, grabbing his slickened cock and guiding Criston to her entrance. Once again the man knew he was cunt-struck, unable to resist, thrusting brutally into her heat with a drawn-out groan of her name. He silently prayed for forgiveness at the sight of her virgin cunt split open and bloody.

“Fuck yes, don’t stop,” the princess growled, sinking her teeth into the meat of his neck. Criston snapped his hips in rapid succession, chasing a reckless high. The princess writhed and cried loud enough for the whole camp to hear. His hips stuttered when the blonde nipped his ear and breathed, “So mean, just like I always dreamed Ser. Choke me.”

He wrapped his tanned hand around her slim neck, almost encircling it, like a pretty necklace. Criston moaned, “Gods above- stop it or I’ll end this faster than we want.” He squeezed at the pumping vessels on the column of soft throat, slaps of his body meeting hers echoing in the shoddy tent. She arched up into him, gouging her nails in his tense back.

Cole’s mouth hung open, groaning on every slick pull of her pussy, all caution thrown to the wind. She rasped, “Hurts so good, so good to me, make me bleed!” She whined and squeezed her strong thighs around him, meeting Criston’s brutal rutting fully. Her face was grew red and blotchy from his grip, so the brunette pressed a little more. Dug a little deeper, moved his thick fingers to play at her button.

The princess convulsed, bloody lips gaping, eyes rolling back into her head. She couldn’t pull any air in, Criston holding his princess down and pinching her clit until her slim lips were purpling.

She sucked in breath, a wet gasp, shaking and coming apart with hoarse sobbing. She cried his name, dragging more scores of blood across the knight’s back. Wave after wave of tightening pulses and slick surrounding Criston’s prick. He couldn’t risk it regretfully.

He pulled out of her sweet, tight, perfectly ruined cunt and splattered his seed on her scarred belly. The princess’s brows were drawn together as she sniveled and gulped in dramatic wet breaths. Criston rolled to his side, tucked next to the crying thing. He pushed back her sweaty brow, tilting a sharp jaw towards him.

Criston whispered, “Why do you cry princess? I will never speak of it again if you wish.”

She shook her head, shrugging. Her loyal protector stroked and coddled the Targaryen until she seemed more lucid. They laid together, sweat cooling in the summer air. Dim noises of outside happenings echoed. Criston would have to dismiss any and all rumors tomorrow. They wouldn’t dare say anything to his face or possibly face the wroth of the mercurial twin.

“I think I felt something other than rage for once. I don’t know, Ser Cole,” she admitted in her usual raspy voice.

“You can call me Criston,” he said.

“No. You’re my knight, always will be,” she sucked over the bruised bite marks over the man’s shoulder, “I trust you. You make me feel like I’ve done something other than be the spare cunt to sell off.” His lips curled up at the blonde’s words, giving her a nip on the thin skin of her collarbone. Criston swallowed down the guilt and deep seeded satisfaction boiling in his gut.

This was war. No time for semantics. If he wanted to fuck the insane princess after a battle then who was to say no? Aegon certainly wouldn’t and he was the King. Alicent kept in the keep, out of the way. Criston sighed, “Are you sure you want to sit out the siege at Rook’s Rest?”

“Someone’s got to watch the Keep,” she intertwined her long legs with his own, “We will celebrate the victory when you get back. Bring a head on a spike for me, will you?” The Lord Hand nodded dutifully, promising to bring her a dragon skull. When Criston finally put Rhaenyra in the ground he’d marry his princess, he decided.

[cjgladback]

And that's a wrap! On the first 100 grams of this oyster-colored Wool of the Andes roving. I'm very happy as my yarn quality and understanding continue improving; definitely getting to those consistent thin yarns I wanted. The green skein is absolutely the favored child, but I swear it is actually better than everything else, not just green. Which gives me some hope for all the wool I intend to card, actually.

My rambles got extra long, as were the image descriptions, so please enjoy this cut:

I wanted to test blending fibers with the same staple length before I get into more complicated things with the fiber festival fleeces (I am still slowly accumulating what I need to wash and dry them) and was honestly a little worried about how disorganized and snaggy it felt to card and draft, both. But my oh my that squishy, soft, wonderful yarn. I'm gonna keep trying to emulate it, though I still love the organization of just spinning nice long semi-compact roving. Versus even once I get a diz aka drill a hole in my designated piece of curved laminated cardboard, I expect carded sliver to be loose and fall apart if I do things like wrap it around my wrist as a proto-distaff. For the green yarn, I tried making kinda loose sideways rolags that I both compacted and drafted the tiniest bit so they could be wrapped into nests.

So! Mayhaps I should try carding something that isn't already organized. Like the little bit of very lanolin-laden wool that was packed with the e-spinner (EEW Nano, original flavor) I recently acquired from a thrift store. And maybe I won't want to wash all the lanolin out and lose the learning experience if I also blend it with other, clean fiber. Perhaps if I cannibalize the first skein here...? Good thing I never fulled it after all!

The above is not actually the train of thought that lead me to wanting to combine those two; I'm just realizing that there are basically no projects that I want to do that would actually use that yarn as is, and I'm already planning my limit of small and patchwork projects for other things. One is that I'm planning to put together all of these oyster skeins into maybe a hat? to commemorate my improving spinning skills, maybe with lace for the underplied and color work for the green, and I already have my actual first spin in a scarf so I don't feel too beholden to preserve this. I really like textured knitting that needs even, solid or slow-transition, thin yarn, whereas this wild and lumpy almost-twenty-feet would maybe work for someone who did tapestries? But that is not me. And I think if I calm down and maybe tweed up the bright colors I'll enjoy them more, as well. So. These may be the last photos of the yarn in its current state.

Whether that's my next project or if I try to get some mileage on the Nano with the next bundle of oyster, I'm not sure. I'm already missing my fidget activity after just a couple days of washing and drying the last skein, but I also wanted to design some bookmarks with the clearance yarn I got at the same time as the roving. So if I can get a prototype pattern laid out so it's not as much ongoing brain power, that might fit the bill.

[ID: Three images of various small hanks and balls of yarn laying on a wood table with notes digitally hand-written in light purple around them.

The first photo shows all eight of the skeins in the order they were spun, all but two a light cream color. The first is a chunky, uneven skein spun from a bright purple, pink, and orange gradient, labeled "chain ply" and 6.6 yards. Next is a cream center-pull ball that is 36.25 yards, and next to it a smaller, more even center-pull ball of 22.5 yards, perhaps 21 wraps per inch. Next is a forest green skein, labeled "hand carded," 49 yards, balanced and soft! Next are two cream skeins that were "underplied and broke," 116 plus 33 yards, 30 wraps per inch. The penultimate skein is longer than the rest (having been wound around more than one chair back) and 158.25 yards. The final skein is labeled "intentionally thicker to pair with green," and 99.75 yards.

The second photo compares the green and final skeins, with winding notes starting with a cloud of hearts by the green. It is a "50/50 blend of Oyster and Aurora roving colors on handcarders," and "took no notes so of course it's balanced, soft, and sturdy." Its cream counterpart has a smoother surface, more even thickness, and is slightly more tightly plied, with the note "didn't card but made an effort to match on ply back tests -- decent weight, almost balanced, not soft" (flat-mouthed face).

The third image compares the first and last skeins, the first labeled as 23 grams of gifted cheviot or shropshire, chain plied from ball with core, for a total of 6.6 yards. The latest is 24 grams of clearance peruvian highland, plied via book-wrapped bracelet into a two-strand ball, totalling 99.75 yards. End ID]

[littleslithewhump]

Day nine - chastity

By the time his captor finally pulls out the sound for good, V feels like a raw nerve. Bright and exposed and hurting. 

His captor doesn’t stop touching him. Groping his hips and waist and ribs, down his thighs. V feels too weak to do anything about it, even when his captor tugs on the cock ring that feels as though it’s squeezing the life out of him.

His consciousness swims, darkness encroaching his vision and swimming around him. He feels his captor undo one side of the spreader bar. He feels him straddle his waist and untie the rope from the leg of the bed, before pulling him up into a sitting position, an arm around his shoulders, a large hand encircling his bound wrists. 

V all but faints in his arms, lightheadedness and vertigo nearly making him black out completely. 

He feels his entire body is loose and malleable as clay. The rope dangling from his wrists is pulled behind his head, forcing his wrists between his shoulder blades–the end of the rope secured around his waist.

He’s spun and placed facedown on the bed, the pressure on his dick blinding, but not as blinding as the tail plug slowly being pulled out past the ring of his muscle, and allowed to fall back inside–and pulled out again, only to fall back in again–a few vicious cycles, grating on V’s entire being. 

When it is finally pulled out completely, he doesn’t feel relief–he just feels empty. He’s still worming his hips a bit, wanting to be left alone yet also be, finally, fucked unconscious. 

“Hush, pet.” 

He didn’t know he was making noise. 

He knows he’s definitely voicing something, though, when another toy is shoved in his ass–something that sits snugly against that sensitive spot inside, and curls around to nestle beneath his balls, touching the ring that, still, holds him tightly at his base. 

When his captor taps it, the feeling cuts through him like a razor. It makes his thighs quiver.

“Hold on. I’m getting your cage, and then we’ll take you downstairs again.” 

V feels a question at the word “cage” filter through his strained consciousness. Is he not restricted enough? Not capitulating, not submissive enough? 

But, when he’s flipped to his back, he sees the cage he’s talking about is smaller. Curved, solid metal rings, with a small locking mechanism at the top. V hasn’t seen one before, but realizes what it is when his captor feeds his achingly sensitive, hard cock into the thing. 

It pinches and forces his hardness to bend, curving it from a position of arousal to ostensible flaccidity. It takes painful minutes to force V into the shape of his captor’s choosing. The locking mechanism meets the cock ring, and his captor snaps it home, locking V’s penis down. 

It does nothing to prevent the sensitivity, the tightness and fullness. 

V feels crushed by tiredness, by a desperate longing to be out and done and free, to be home and safe. 

“You don’t get to come, pet. Not yet. You were so very bad.” 

V doesn’t really care about that, at this point. But his body’s white-hot muscle fibers still, despite his exhaustion, flinch and press against the cage, tense against the plug. 

He feels completely boneless as he’s picked up once again, and carried back to the stairs. The sight of the dark basement makes him want to cry, but he feels as though even that’s been wrung out of him too. 

V’s sat on the floor like a doll, watching with bloodshot eyes as his captor rolls out a futon on the cement floor. When V’s laid down on it, he doesn’t move as his captor pulls the spreader bar down to his ankles, affixing them to keep him spread. V hears the rattle of a chain, clipping around the spreader bar, and attaching to a hook in the floor. With his hands tied behind his head, he can twist a bit from side to side, but not much beyond that.

At least, he thinks, I'm lying down. 

His captor crouches beside him and runs a thumb along his cheek, arcing along the bone. The tenderness of the gesture makes V want to vomit, to bite him, to lean in, all at once. 

“I’ll be back in a couple days, pet.” 

V’s eyes widen. Days? 

His captor laughs. “Don’t worry, my dear. I won’t let you forget me.” He stands and pulls out his phone, fiddling with something before saying, “See?”

The plug–a vibrator, it turns out–begins to pulse. V all but screams–his cock, still bent and hard, throbs in the chastity cage. 

When the pulsing stops, V’s sweating and out of breath all over again.

“I’ll keep reminding you, pet. Every time you feel it, you’ll remember who owns you.” He places a foot on V's hip, making his body sway gently from side to side. "But you'll also know I'm coming back for you."

His captor leaves, not even bothering to leave the light on. 

When the plug vibrates to life, as it often does over the next few days, V’s cock throbs and aches, the pull at the cage’s base painful. The euphoria of arousal is stamped down, over and over again, until it shifts from evidence of V's body and nerves and feelings to, only, evidence of him.

[pinbones]

Red Panda free crochet pattern

Ravelry link -- free pdf download

My red panda pattern is no-sew and its parts are attached with single crochets. This written pattern contains photos.

Made with DK yarn and a 3.5mm hook, but can be made with any size yarn and appropriate hook.

Pattern also under the cut:

YOU WILL NEED:

DK yarn in the following colours:

- red/orange (less than half a ball/50g/150m)

- black (less than 25g)

- white (less than 25g)

3.5mm crochet hook

Stuffing

Scissors

OPTIONAL:

Stitch markers (or scraps of yarn) to mark the start of each round

If you don't like the no-sew yarn eyes, safety eyes or buttons

If desired, a darning needle for hiding yarn ends

TECHNIQUES USED:

Single crochets, increases, decreases

Single crochet through two pieces

Colour changes

The loose parts are made first, before the head and body, so that we can sc them together later.

EARS

Middle ears x2 (black)

1. Chain 6. Turn.

2. Skip 1 chain. 3sc, dec. Chain 1 and turn.

3. 2sc, dec. Chain 1 and turn.

4. 1sc, dec. Chain 1 and turn.

5. Dec. Finish off. No need to hide the ends yet.

Outer ears x2 (white)

1. Chain 6. Turn.

2. Skip 1 chain. 3sc, dec. Chain 1 and turn.

3. 2sc, dec. Chain 1 and turn.

4. 1sc, dec. Chain 1 and turn.

5. Dec. Don't break the yarn.

During the next couple rows, hide the yarn tails inside as you go, or leave them hanging and hook them inside later.

6. Line up a black triangle behind your white traingle and go into both of them. Sc them together around the whole triangle and put 3sc into every corner.

7. Sc around again just into the white stitches, putting 3sc into every corner. Finish off and pull the yarn ends inside with your hook.

You may notice there is no given stitch number. This is because it depends on how you sc around. When you get to it, continue the pattern of attaching the ears to the head onwards if you have more than 7 stitches between the corners.

EYES (black)

(Alternatively, use safety eyes, embroidery, buttons, etc.)

1. 4sc into a magic ring [4]

Tighten ring, slip stitch and finish off.

Note: knotting the yarn tails together will keep the slip stitch from loosening.

MUZZLE (start in black, have white nearby)

1. in black, 6sc into a magic ring [6]

2. in white, (inc x2, sc) x2 [10]

3. (inc x4, sc) x2 [18]

4. sc around [18]

ARMS x2 (black)

1. 6sc into a magic ring [6]

2. inc x6 [12]

3. (1sc, inc) x6 [18]

4-5. sc around (2 rounds) [18]

6. (4sc, 1dec) x3 [15]

7. sc around [15]

8. (3sc, 1dec) x3 [12]

9. sc around [12]

10. (2sc, 1dec) [9]

11-12. sc around (2 rounds) [9]

Finish off and tuck/fasten the ends inside. Stuff.

LEGS x2 (black)

1. 6sc into a magic ring [6]

2. inc x6 [12]

3. (1sc, inc) x6 [18]

4-5. sc around (2 rounds) [18]

6. (1sc, 1dec) x6 [12]

7. (2sc, 1dec) x3 [9]

8. sc around [9]

Finish off and tuck/fasten the ends inside. Stuff.

TAIL (start in red, have white nearby)

1. in red, 6sc into a magic ring [6]

2. inc x6 [12]

3. (1sc, inc) x6 [18]

4. sc around [18]

5-6. in white, sc around (2 rounds) [18]

7. in red, sc around [18]

8. (4sc, dec) x3 [15]

9. in white, sc around [15]

10. (3sc, dec) x3 [12]

11-12. in red, sc around (2 rounds) [12]

13. in white, sc around [12]

14. (2sc, dec) x3 [9]

15. in red, sc around [9]

Stuff

16. (1sc, dec) x3 [6]

Finish off and tuck/fasten end inside.

HEAD AND BODY (start in red, have white nearby)

1. 6sc into a magic ring [6]

2. inc x6 [12]

3. (1sc, inc) x6 [18]

4. 1sc, inc, (2sc, inc) x5, 1sc [24]

5. (3sc, inc) x6 [30]

6. 2sc, inc, (4sc, inc) x5, 2sc [36]

The next round will begin connecting the ears to the body along one edge of each ear. Skip the stitch right on the corner and begin with the next stitch. Ensure ears are facing inwards (first ear faces away from start of round, second ear faces opposite way). Don't worry if they twist around after the first stitch, after 2 or 3 rows they should hold straight.

7. 5sc, inc, 1sc through an ear and the body, 4sc, inc, 5sc, inc, 2sc, 1sc through an ear and the body, 2sc, inc, (5sc, inc) x2 [42]

Careful not to accidentally skip stitches while attaching parts, it can be hard to see the head stitch after you put your hook in the ear stitch. Count the stitch number after each round if you're unsure.

8. 3sc, inc, 3sc, 1sc though ear and body, 2sc, inc, 6sc, inc, 5sc, 1sc through ear and body, inc, (6sc, inc) x2, 3sc [48]

9. 7sc, inc, 1sc through ear and body, 6sc, inc, 7sc, inc, 2sc, 1sc through ear and body, 4sc, inc, (7sc, inc) x2 [54]

10-12. 9sc, 1sc through ear and body, 19sc, 1sc through ear and body, 24sc (3 rounds) [54]

13. 9sc, 1sc through ear and body, 3sc, change to white and 3sc, in red 7sc, in white 3sc, in red 3sc, 1sc through ear and body, 24sc [54]

Ears should now be completed. Remember to leave the corner stitches unworked. If you have more or fewer ear stitches, no matter. Keep attaching them in a straight line until they are connected enough.

14. 12sc, in white 3sc, in red 9sc, in white 3sc, in red 27sc [54]

The next round connects the eyes, if you're opting for yarn ones. They may be fiddly due to their size. If you're sewing/snapping on alternate eyes, replace every connecting sc with a regular sc.

15. 11sc, in white 3sc, in red 1sc, 2 stitches through an eye and the body, 5sc, 2 stitches through an eye and the body, 1sc, in white 3sc, in red 26sc [54]

16. 10sc, in white 3sc, in red 2sc, 2 stitches through eye and body, 5sc, 2 stitches through eye and body, 2sc, in white 3sc, in red 25sc [54]

Pick 5 stitches across the top of the muzzle and mark them. The muzzle is slightly wider than it is tall.

When you come to it, place the muzzle wrong-side-out against the body and sc along the marked stitches, as the photo depicts.

17. 10sc, in white 3sc, in red 4sc, 5sc through both muzzle and body, 4sc, in white 3sc, in red 25sc [54]

18. 3sc, dec, 5sc, in white 1sc, dec, in red 2sc, 2sc through muzzle and body, 5sc, 2sc through both muzzle and body, 2sc, in white dec, 1sc, in red 5sc, dec, 6sc, dec, 5sc, dec, 3sc [48]

19. 3sc, dec, 4sc, in white 2sc, in red dec, 9sc (no muzzle stitches), dec, in white 2sc, in red 4sc, dec, (5sc, dec) x2, 2sc [42]

20. 3sc, dec, 3sc, in white 1sc, in red dec, 2sc through muzzle and body, 5sc, 2sc through muzzle and body, dec, in white 1sc, in red 3sc, dec, 4sc, dec, 5sc, dec, 1sc [36]

You have now finished the white stitches. You can cut and secure your white yarn.

21. dec, 3sc, dec, 4sc. Stuff muzzle a little. 5sc through muzzle and body to complete it. 4sc, dec, 3sc, dec, 2sc, dec, 1sc, dec, 2sc [30]

22. (3sc, dec) x6 [24]

23. 1sc, dec, (2sc, dec) x5, 1sc [18]

Stuff the head.

24. (1sc, dec) x6 [12]

25. inc x12 [24]

26. 3sc, 5sc through an arm and the body, 6sc, 5sc through an arm and the body, 5sc [24]

27. 4sc, 4sc through arm and body, 7sc, 4sc through arm and body, 5sc [24]

28. (3sc, 1inc) x6 [30]

29-31. sc around (3 rounds) [30]

32. 4sc, 5sc through a leg and the body, dec x5, 5sc through a leg and the body, 4sc, dec [24]

The next round will begin attaching the tail. Angle the tail so its jog is hidden from your preferred angle.

33. sc, dec x2, 4sc through leg and body, dec, sc, dec, 4sc through leg and body, dec x2, 2sc through the tail and the body [18]

Stuff the body.

34. sc through tail and body, dec, (1sc, dec) x4, sc, 2sc through tail and body [13]

35. sc through tail and body, dec x6 [7]

Finish off. Use your hook to pull the yarn through the front loops, pull to cinch and hide the end inside.

[sweetiebean00]

Of Curses and Stone

The Sixth Installment to Of Nifflers and Magic, I might be needing to make a list or something for easy access... Oh! Please feel free to ask questions if anything is confusing! @helendeath

Celia didn't know how long she was out, her eyes stinging as she squeezed them shut. Whispers from the past fluttered about her skull like flies, she couldn't move. Her entire body felt wrong, felt too heavy as if weights were chained around her limbs. This isn't London, she reminded herself, trying to think through the fog invading her mind and clouding her senses. She's at Hogwarts, somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. She's safe, she's with her friends. At least... she hoped they were friends, and that she wasn't just overlooking their kindness to the awkward new student.

Taking a deep breath, the smell of mint and lemon danced about her nose with something spicy. The fire that had been burning since she got out of bed that morning was spreading, the flames so hot it left trails of ice stretching like the roots of a tree through her chest. Clearing her throat made regret twist in her stomach at the pain that ghosted right back down, down deep into her lungs as she fought to keep the ball of magic inside in place. She didn't have the time for coughing, for her body to keep fighting against her everytime she lifted a fucking wand.

She needed to get up. To open her fucking eyes and get her brain working so she could focus on the situation at hand until she could crawl to the Room of Requirments, or even the Undercroft if it was empty, and hack up her lungs in peace. Something squeezed her hand, pulling her from the haze of her thoughts as something cold and clammy pressed against her knuckles and air tickled her fingers. Celia frowned, trying to make her hand flex, to squeeze back whatever was squeezing her. Yet her body still wouldn't obey, not when all she can hear is the dull roar of blood rushing through her ears and the memories that haunted her every time she closed her eyes. 

Warmth surrounded her on all sides, and she had to fight to keep awake. The blanket of sleep attempting to pull her back under, but Celia had enough of reliving her once muggle life. She needed to be awake. There's something she’s doing, was doing? Is? She had been up to something, something important maybe? She couldn't remember, the sludge of her mind far too thick for her to even try and think through. With a deep breath, she forced her eyes to open. Squinting against the light of torches that made spots line her vision, but she refused to close her eyes.

The first thing she saw was pale skin bared from a white shirt, a green and silver tie hanging loosely and fisted in her grip. The black fabric of a cloak lined with emerald green was next, and when she managed to get the strength to crane her neck. She found her eyes traveling up, up, up. Watched the adam's apple bob as sweat slowly trickled a path along flawless skin that looked to be cut from stone, until she found a sharp jawline and high cheekbones. A narrowed nose, and pale eyes staring at nothing as blonde locks fell messily across his forehead, fallen from the slicked back style Ominis usually wore. She swallowed, heat dancing along her cheeks as she realized just who was holding her all this time.

Celia mildly thought it was Sebastian, the warmth of a furnace ever burning had made her think of him. Also given he had been closer when she had more than likely fainted, it had just made sense. She hadn't thought Ominis would be this warm, this firm mass that surrounded her that brought to mind a snake coiling around something precious. Her lips twitched, and she vowed to never share that thought with anyone. Not even if Adelaide offers her the best bottle of firewhiskey and the finest cup of coffee her uncle had ever thought to send her. 

Tilting her head turned more into a dropping and she gritted her teeth at the weightless feeling that tingled in her own bones. Hopefully, this was just a side effect of being cursed by an unforgivable, and not something else. She needed time, time to hide and lose the battle alone where she didn't need to pretend everything was fine and dandy. With a measured breath, she forced herself to focus once more. The first thing she saw was thick, dark brown curls. Sebastian. His head lifted, her heart wrenching in her chest painfully at the tears trailing down rosy cheeks from his red, puffy eyes. He was mouthing words she couldn't hear, it was his breath on her fingers mingled with teardrops and she wished to squeeze it. To tell him everything was okay, that she's fine.

"-orry, never casting that ever again."

She struggled, don't say never. Why she can understand not casting crucio again, but some of them could be useful. Magic was magic, all that mattered was the one that wields it. Professor Fig had taught as much, and she's learned from his lessons. All of them, she's absorbed them like a sponge during the summer. Like hell would she let the most important lesson of all be tossed out a window.

"Celia?"

A hand gently caressed her cheek, tilting her head back so she was staring back at Ominis again. She hummed, her heart skipping a beat at the smile that stretched his lips. Relief colored his features, his forehead pressing into hers as he held her face tenderly. As if she would break if he held too tight, or would slip away if he let go. Heat blossomed under his touch, her eyes widening at the contact before he was pulling back. A proper grin stretching across his face.

"Thank Merlin you're awake." He breathed, shoulders losing the tension that had clung to them moments ago as she squeaked being nestled further into his embrace at the motion. "Sebastian and I were quite worried about you."

"I'm fine?" She cleared her throat, turning her head to Sebastian's own wide and relieved gaze, the guilt like a knife that pierced her heart with every flutter of tear lined lashes. She squeezed his hand, cursing herself for how much energy and strength it took. "Sebastian - it's okay, I'm okay."

"You weren't-" He sniffled, holding her hand tight to his chest. "I'm sorry- so sorry Celia, I-I didn't want to hurt you, bu-but you said to do it and for-for Anne; and-and I'd do anything for-for my sister, and you're my sis-sister too, and I-I hurt you-"

Her heart warmed, threatening to burst as her eyes stung at his words. She tried to throw herself at the other Slytherin, tried to lunge and tackle him in a hug like one she's seen Poppy do to Adelaide that knocked the taller puff flat on her back. Except her body wasn't quite cooperating and she frowned at the fabric that locked her wrist to Ominis' forearm, the emerald and silver tie that matched the one hanging loosely around the blonde's neck now circled his arm and knotted around her other hand clutched tightly in Sebastian's grip. She shook her head, questions later. She needed to hug her brand new brother right now!

"Sebastian-!" Celia cut off his cries, squeezing his hand and wiggling enough to get Ominis to loosen his hold. "Group hug me, please!"

He hadn't needed to be told twice, against Ominis' words of protest Sebastian too crawled into his lap. Hugging her close and sandwiching Celia in between them with a loud oomph! Celia didn't care, doing her best to try and hug him back as brown curls tickled her cheeks and she let Sebastian cry into her shoulder, and Ominis' chest. At least they were in this together.

"I'm okay, Sebastian, we are all okay. You did nothing wrong, magic is magic, what matters is the one who wields it." She soothed, bonking his head with her own with a hiss of pain. She had been attempting to hug him with her chin, apparently that translated into a headbutt instead. "That- sorry, I'm not quite sure why my arms are restrained, and I can't quite hug you when my arms are tied with... wait a minute, is that your tie?!"

Sebastian laughed, pulling away to settle back on his haunches. He wiped his face, his bashful smile making her raise a brow as she waited for an answer. Ominis sighed heavily, his hands moving to undo the knots that bound her to him. Muttering under his breath something about another delinquent. Celia made a mental note to correct him later, she wasn't a delinquent, she's a deviant. There's a complete difference! The moment Ominis had freed her wrists, Celia went to jump Sebastian. Only to be stopped by his arm tightening around her waist, his voice low in her ears.

"Easy now Celia." She gulps, heat rushing to her cheeks as fingers trail featherlight up the inside of her arm bared by her rolled up sleeves. "'Less you want me to tie you up and hold you down, again."

Immediately, her arm falls back to her side. The fire blazed over her face dripping down her throat to her chest as she realized that she had been tied up in two ways. Once with Sebastian's tie around Ominis' arm, and again by his own tie around her hand holding it to his chest. Why they felt the need to restrain her she didn't know, couldn't bring herself to try and dwell on it as she nearly launched herself at Sebastian. A living, breathing furnace with arms curling around her that apologized into her shoulder as she rubbed his back. Humming a soft tune as she listened, as she assured him he hadn’t hurt her. She is fine, he isn’t a monster and he didn’t do anything that she hadn’t asked him to do. That wasn't necessary. That she forgave him even if there's nothing to forgive.

It took a moment for Sebastian to stop shaking. To stop the tears in his eyes from falling, for his sniffles to ease. Pulling away, she ruffled his curls. Ignoring his half-hearted protests as she beamed with the force of the warmth filling her heart, she felt like she was going to burst from how light she felt. How free and unchained from the shackles of life. 

It took a moment for Sebastian to stop shaking. To stop the tears in his eyes from falling, for his sniffles to ease. Pulling away, she ruffled his curls. Ignoring his half-hearted protests as she beamed with the force of the warmth filling her heart, she felt like she was going to burst from how light she felt. How free and unchained from the shackles of life. 

"For Anne." Celia reminded, ignoring Ominis as he shifted behind her to get off the floor, muttering under his breath: "Anne would not want this."

If Sebastian heard his comment, he didn't respond. Merely getting off the floor and offering her a hand and tugging her to her feet the moment she grabbed it. Celia breathed a sigh of relief, letting her weight settle as pins and needles tingled up from her toes up to her hips. She didn't have the time to curse, her arms stretching out to find something for purchase. Sebastian lunged forward, a grunt escaping his lips as her face slammed into Sebastian's chest. Fuck.

"Oh, you're completely fine." Ominis said in a mockingly high voice.

Celia rolled her eyes. A squeak yanking from her throat as her legs were swiped out from under her. Instead of careening to the ground, she was lifted. Higher and higher until she was burning red, as strong arms locked under her knees and around her back. Ominis' features were unamused, a slight pink tinting his cheeks as he huffed. Shifting her up and earning another squeak as he adjusted his grip. His lips lifted in the corner, she scowled at the smirk curled on his dastardly soft looking mouth. 

Dangerous, she decided. That's another word to describe the tall, blonde Slytherin. Dangerous, with his stupid kissable lips that she really wanted to bite. She needed to stop thinking about his lips, about how they'd look swollen and red from kissing. If he'd kiss her soft, and tender, as if she'd break, or if he'd kiss her like he was dying of thirst and her lips were the first drink of water. All teeth, and tongue that he would drag- STOP THINKING ABOUT HIS LIPS!

"-thinking you can walk off an Unforgivable." 

She blinked, the sound of his voice crashing into her ears and she felt the fire of her blush spread to the back of her neck at the timbre of his voice, low and smooth like the finest butterbeer sliding down her throat. At the vibrations of the deep notes coming from his chest beneath her ears. He needed to stop talking. He shook his head, following Sebastian into Salazar's Scriptorium.

"Foolish."

"Hey, I didn't know."

"Because you didn't listen!" Ominis hissed through his teeth, slowing his pace until he came to a stop. The sound of Sebastian's footsteps growing faint as he continued to pursue the study. "If either of you had stopped to think, to listen to what I have been saying from the beginning - you'd know it wasn't just the pain that was excruciating. It was that it lingers… Lingers in every breath you take, in your bones, your muscles. It stays until your senses are so muddled you can't remember a time without the pain, and when it's gone you would do anything to go back and never feel it because..."

Ominis took a deep breath, his brows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. Her eyes fell to his throat, watching as it bobbed when he swallowed. A shudder dancing down her spine that she did her best to resist, but when his grip tightened she knew she had failed before she had a chance to begin. She sucked her bottom lip in-between her teeth, feeling his chest raise and fall with the force of his breath.

"Because?"

"Because there will be days you will feel the effects of the cruciatus curse as if it's being casted on you again."

Her heart twinged, her head gently resting against his chest as she nuzzled into him. His breath hitched, and she hummed as her hands curled into his shirt. She watched his jaw clenched, his lips pursing and the frown formed between his brows slowly smoothed out with the rest of his features. Back into the calm, cool, collected mask that is Ominis Gaunt. "I... I'm sorry, Ominis." She cleared her throat, the beat of his heart a soothing lullaby beneath her ear. "I'm sorry your family has boners for snakes and dark magic, and can't see your brilliance."

He snorted, his response lost as her breathing evened out. Her eyelids were growing heavier and heavier by the second, the firm warmth of Ominis surrounded her. Wrapping and curling around her like a blanket of safety, a wall against the harshness of reality. She hoped one day she'd be able to be selfish and give him that sort of warmth and peace in her embrace. She wished to be allowed one day, because the heavens know she doesn't deserve more even if she wanted to gift him that for all of eternity.

[ar9o]

Hey, kind of a silly little story (based on real events) that I've had in the works for a bit and figured it worked well for @theregressionlibrary petre takeover (cutting it a bit close)

The Cat's Out of The Bag 🐈

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Jake lay on his girlfriend, Carrie’s, bed, staring out the window as she crocheted in her chair. He periodically batted at the string of bells she had hanging from her curtain rod, a decoration she had gotten some time ago at an art fair. He liked listening to the jingling sound and watching it sway. He didn’t notice her staring at him until Carrie got his attention with an amused tone and a baffling statement: “Jake, you are such a cat.”

Jake propped himself up on his elbows to look at her, cocking his head to the side. “What?” He asked, confused. He hadn’t even been doing anything, what was catlike about that? Carrie chuckled. “You always do this sort of thing,” she said, “You bat at the bell chain or my yarn like it’s one of those string toys for housecats.” Jake frowned. Carrie was right, of course. Often he was a cat, but he didn’t tell people, despite how fun it sounded to play with people as a kitten. How could they possibly react to that? ‘Hey, just so you know sometimes I’m a cat, in a totally normal way.’ Yeah, no thanks. The mortifying ordeal of being known, or whatever. “I’m not a cat, I’m a guy,” Jake retorted with a huff, trying to play it off as amused.

But Carrie knew him better than anyone, and she never quit. “It’s no use trying to deny it, Jakey.” She wiggled the loose string at the end of her yarn ball at him, a mischievous look on her face. Jake locked onto it, eyes narrowing. He could feel himself slipping just a bit, his eyes locking on to the wiggling thread. He shook his hair into his face to try to conceal it, but he was sure Carrie had noticed.

“Jakey,” she sing-songed, “come get the striiiing.” Jake sat up fully on the edge of the bed, leaning over a bit. He was desperately hanging on to his adult mind, repeating his mantra that he uses whenever this happens at school or work: I am not a cat, I am not a cat, I am not a cat…

Jake watches the string as he slides onto the floor, from the mattress, crawling the short expanse on Carrie’s soft carpet. She smiled down at him as he reached up to fiddle with the string. “Told ya.” Jake tilted his head to the side, placing his paws on the ground.

He nudged his head into the side of Carrie's leg from where he was sitting on the floor. She tilted her head at him, and both stared for a moment. Jake blinked at her a few times before placing his paw on her hand. “Oh, is that what you want?” Carrie smiled and placed her hand on his head, running her fingers through his hair. “You really are just a little kitty.”

Jake smiled, leaning into the pets. He likes Carrie knowing. Maybe telling people isn't so bad after all.

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

Thanks for reading! A silly little story loosely based on how I discovered I pet regress sometimes and shared it with my gf. 😸

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

He's a biter, you know.

details and un-shaded version (and also lineart version) under the cut:

I meant to draw this for peterfel week and made the sketch in like, literally February but didn't get around to finally finishing it until now… lol… well it's done now!!!

i dunno if i love how the dark shaded version turned out...

These are my base colors, but I guess I just felt like spending a couple hours with color overlays and fucking around to make the final moody blue version lol

as an aside the bokeh is a brush by Bunabi/Eriart which you can find as a freebie on her patreon - i saw it and was like omg wait i could use that

...the buildings are also brushes (well the windows are)

anyway here's the lineart

I also used a chain brush of course cause I ain't fuckin drawin all of that lmao —I used a brush from this set, they're pretty nice

😻 there she is oh i also used a diamond stamp 😂 the lesson to learn about me is if i can use a brush for something that would otherwise be tedious and it looks decent i will because i am lazy. unless i only have like a Single instance then I'll usually just draw it but when I have more than one it's either brushes or copy pasting lol

Felicia's outfit is a mix of sources, inspired by both her original costume, with the furry chest (in this case unzippable) as well as obviously more modern sexy latex outfits and so on... but i did NOT give her cleavage to her bellybutton cause I think that's dumb. though. to be fair in this case it would be more justifiable 😂

i love drawing her long long hair (angel medina's fault tbh) (sensational spider-man my beloved...)

rawr 😼

he's trying very hard not to laugh 😂 but he's into it, he's having fun

the muzzle ended up being like multiple designs from photo refs mashed into one so idk... how realistic it is other than the nose-forehead piece which was the same on both my refs. admittedly it looks a little loose but 🤷 still looks nice 😏

claws 😏

I also drew Peter in the classic suit, which I don't normally do, but I was doing more of the comic book look here instead of my own AUs and so on lol

he broke the cuffs so he could touch her butt 🙄 god peter don't you know how much real leather BDSM gear costs (don't tell him)

this new pen tablet is a lot of fun, it's way more comfortable to draw on and the increased pressure sensitivity makes it a lot easier to draw my favorite thing to draw: peter's arm hair 😂😂

the only weird thing is if I press down medium or harder while I'm drawing it... creaks? which is very funny, my old pen did not do that. it really is weirdly like using a felt tip pen or a very fine point marker. except it's plastic.

shoes. it may be classic style but I can never resist giving Peter sporty soles lol I know some people hate that but I just think it looks nice and I can handwave the sticking away as electrostatic forces or something. negative charge. electron transfer. blah blah blah. (in my AU i decided Peter has both electrostatic sticking that encompasses his whole body and ALSO adhesive secretions so if he gets his hands and feet bare i guess he has double the sticking power lol)

shaded versions just cause

tits

i really like drawing latex lol

also if you're wondering why i didn't give peter a boner to match his red face well i have an out and it's that long ago i decided he wears a dance belt under the costume so as not to inflict the outline of his dick and balls on the people of NYC on a daily basis, and dance belts are first of all designed as mentioned to smooth out and hide that outline but also you wear them with everything pointing north and the waistband is like 5 inches wide so i don't think he has to worry about his little buddy escaping LOL (though I'm sure it's possible it would be more visible... i didn't bother trying to google it lol)

really i just didn't feel like trying to draw a boner 😂

[keepingmyselfundead]

Mermaze Mermaidz Jordie Review

To start, Jordie is an athletic mermaid who is always supportive of all her friends and teammates. She's probably my favorite main mermaid from the show as she knows her passion well and is open to new challenges that help her move forward in her career.

Her doll has fairly simple yet elegant makeup with yellow, brown, and light pink lip. Her freckles are very cute just on the nose. She has a small black heart under her left eye (your right). Jordie has brown glass eyes with detailed irises. There are also rooted eyelashes sculpted into a wing shape on top of her painted eyelashes.

For her clothes she has a yellow crop top, puffy holographic jacket, and a tail that looks like athletic joggers. The hands do come off, which always makes changing clothes easier so I appreciate that.

The jacket has a lot of stitch detail and a soft mesh inside for added thickness. I will say there were quite a few loose strands of thread I'll cut, as is shown in the second image below.

Below are all the included accessories. Wrist warmers, earrings, a chain necklace, sunglasses, and her "fin ball" purse. I really enjoy that you can remove the ball for okay and even open it to hold accessories! The design is super cute and well suited to the character, and that specific piece is good for storytelling and play.

I do like that they have a painted on undergarment so you can play with her in the water without getting her clothes wet. It even has glitter on it!

I was surprised to find nipple details. It's not common for dolls and I can see some parents may not like that detail. In my opinion I don't mind as much and I think it's good to normalize a natural body.

Her tail end does change color from plain white to pink sport stripes. The color change happens in cold water. I couldn't get her whole tail to change to the advertised light grey.

I think that it would require an ice cold temperature to make the full color change and I've seen people put the dolls in their freezer just to see the change. I would prefer a color change in warm water, it just seems strange to play in ice cold water.

(EDIT: apparently the top part of Jordies tail requires hot water to change...which seems odd ots not consistent)

I've also seen many complaints about Jordies micro-braids falling out. I didn't see any of that as I brushed my fingers through her hair or even after I'd wet the hair and brushed through again. I would never use a regular doll brush on her because of the braids. Looking at the hair rooting it is thickly rooted at the top and gets thinner towards the bottom of her head.

The sheer volume of hair eases my mind, if just a few braids come out it wouldn't be noticeable. It looks like the braids were pre-braided before rooting, so I can see how it's easier for the hair to fall out.

Here she is all dressed. I do wish the first five came with stands but I had to supply my own. They are supposed to stand on their tail folded at a 90 degree angle, but the top is just too heavy for that to be stable.

I'm glad I got these on a discount (about $16 each) and they are well worth the current sale price. She is gorgeous to display and the idea is there, but there is definitely room for improvement.

[autistic-ghost]

A discussion of technical bits of writing for my Charlie & lucifer autism fic. Putting this under read more cuz its long

Okay so I was originally going to have it placed late pre canon, so angel is with the hotel but Al and co haven't joined yet, with the intention of creating a very isolated atmosphere but I think Alastor would have a lot of weight narratively. So the plot is that Charlie is in severe autistic burnout which eventually results in the rest of the cast agreeing to get lucifer involved. Problem is both vaggie and angel (as much as he tries to hide it) are both quite anxious characters so I run the risk of the severity of the situation and the tension being ruined. Alastor on the other hand seems to be only interested in his own motives - so to have him worry for someone he's implied that he's simply using would hold a lot more weight.

There's also a line in the establishing shot of the fic that I would have given to angel but it actually works a lot better for Husk. It's a strained joke teasing vaggie about having a fight with Charlie BC she's sleeping on the couch and he affectionately calls Charlie 'the ball and chain' and Vaggie responds something to the effect of 'not yet.' the line works better with husk's character due to his dry and very jaded sense of humour and establishes a rapport between the two characters and allows vaggie to vent her frustrations about not knowing how to help Charlie but knowing whatever's wrong with her is getting worse. It also sets up for husk to tell her that Alastor s concern for Charlie is genuine, meaning that shit is DIRE

The biggest issue I'm facing rn actually is who's pov to write from. It's a bit short to be jumping around perspective but at the same time there's a scene between Charlie and Carmilla (the person who tells Charlie lol your autistic) that would be lost if it's just vaggie,and there's a really emotional scene between Charlie and lucifer that would loose its weight of its from an outsider's perspective. I want to avoid Charlie's perspective completely because even though the reader knows what's wrong with Charlie (cuz she'll be tagged as autistic it will not come as a surprise) I do want to let the characters slowly gaining information, almost like a mystery or thriller. So it would probably be Luci and Vaggie split about 50/50 (maybe even a two chapter one shot?). Can't decide do I want to the section where Carmilla is like going through all the diagnosis shit with Charlie or would it be better in terms of pacing and storytelling to cut that out