#she saw him as a plaything for her to ''break'' and bend to her will

[melonisopod]

Astolfo is not overrated he’s just rated for the wrong reasons.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi i just read your work and it is amazing!!!! Buuut, if its possible can you make a part 2 of Scraps? Like, the first one was so good... it kinda needs a sequel😂😂 if thats possible

Had to think about what I would write for a little bit, but I think I've got it.

Scraps (Part 2): Rindou Haitani, Ran Haitani, Kakucho Hitto, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Manjiro Sano, Hajime Kokonoi, and Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.9k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

A pussy clenching, breath hitching, thighs squeezing mess.

That's what you're reduced to as you're in class, the soundless, dual vibrator/clit sucking device hidden neatly in your underwear.

Ever since you'd been introduced to the Alpha boys, they'd made you their personal plaything. And you didn't really mind; it was something to do when things got boring around the sorority house. But sometimes... they'd take their experiments out of your scope of knowledge.

This was one of them.

You were given the toy and told that if you could hold off on cumming for twelve hours, you'd be rewarded with whatever you wanted. But you couldn't take it out, you couldn't tell anyone - oh, and you didn't know who had the remote to it. The device is only controlled by a discreet, white remote, and any one of the seven men could have it, changing the speed or the pattern of vibrations of the device. Right now, it's on a pulsing cycle, making you squirm slightly in your seat as the professor lectures about art history.

You're sitting in the very back of the lecture hall where no one would sit if they wanted to pass the class. But you're content with today being an off-day. You need to survive this challenge, first.

You can't help but think of the various dicks that would be yours for the choosing once you finish today's challenge. But it's only ten o'clock.

Ten more hours.

Around twelve, you're trying your best to keep yourself calm, sitting on the edge of your seat while you attempt a test. The speed changes from pulsing to a dull vibration, giving you a brief break from the jolts of pleasure that go straight to your clit.

"Ms. Y/n, can you come up to my desk, please? Bring your test." You look up at your professor, who is cooking her finger at you. For a moment, you wonder if she's caught on to your little predicament, but when you approach her desk, she takes your test and crumples it up before throwing it in the trash, much to your surprise. "I forgot to tell you that you have an A in the class, so you don't need to take this test." You sigh in relief, just as the vibration changes to a more intense sensation. You tense up, clenching your legs before thanking your professor and leaving the classroom quickly.

You can't take much more of this.

Around three pm, you're laying in the sorority house, face down in a pillow as you moan, the feeling of an orgasm building on top of the other six or seven ruined orgasms from earlier. But you stuff this one down with the others, tears decorating your pillowcase as you sob in frustration.

Five more hours.

_____________________________________________________________

At six o'clock, you're at your breaking point.

Dinner is at seven, but you can't even focus on anything except the buzzing between your legs. You're hazy, staring at yourself in the mirror and blinking slowly. There had been no relief, no naps, no rest from the torment, but the pink device inside of you persisted, making you want to cum over and over again. All you can do is think about algebra or something disappointing to prevent yourself from cumming all over the device and losing the challenge.

Suddenly, your phone begins to chime, and you raise it to your face, seeing "Alpha House" on the screen.

"Hello?" you breathe into the receiver, and you hear a chuckle on the other end.

"Are you okay, princess?" It's Mikey. The vibrator begins to pulse again, and you bite your lip.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?"

"Come by the house at seven-thirty. The boys are excited to see you." Mikey hangs up the phone and you stifle a loud moan, trying to keep yourself together before you meet the boys.

One hour left.

At seven-thirty, you're standing at the door of the house, and the vibrator is going crazy. You almost didn't make it across the campus without your legs going weak, but you prop yourself up against the door with a hand, quivering at you wait for the boys to answer the door.

"Little sister..." Ran answers the door, his violet eyes observing your quaking figure. "You made it." You try to step through the door, but Ran catches you in his arms, stooping to pick you up. He holds you against his chest, cooing into your ear about how you're such a good girl, and how they're going to take good care of you before the night is over. You're deposited in the den, where the other guys are, and Ran parts your legs with tender fingers, revealing the device nestled inside of your panties.

"All day, huh?" Sanzu wonders, sitting across from you on the couch and stroking your thigh. "You're such a good girl for us. Kakucho, Rindou, and Kokonoi didn't think you would make it."

"We placed bets," Rindou explains, forking his cash over to his brother with a small sigh. "But you proved me wrong." Mikey appears, his black eyes roaming over all of those present in the room before sliding and focusing on your half-dazed self on the couch, legs spread and shaking.

"Ready to guess who had the remote today?" You nod, breath quivering as you look around the room at the men. Your first bet would be on Sanzu, but you figure guessing him would be too obvious. Your second guess would be Rindou, but he also seemed like the most obvious. So you're left with Kakucho, Kokonoi, Mikey, Takeomi, and Ran. "You get three guesses."

Three guesses. Five men.

"M-Mikey?" Various members of the frat shake their heads. Of course, Mikey wouldn't, he just comes up with the ideas. Takeomi seems almost too bored with you, so he's off the list, too. Two guesses and four men. A twenty-five percent chance of getting it right.

"Kakucho?" He shakes his head, leaning on the back of a chair and blinking slowly.

"One more guess."

Kokonoi or Ran. Fifty-percent chance of getting it right. Kokonoi had a class with you today, but you didn't see him move his hands around as you watched from the back of the class at all. But the sensation also didn't change during the class. You have to take a chance, though.

"Ran." The violet-eyed man smiles, then produces the white remote from his pants.

"Smart girl."

"But how--"

"On Wednesdays, my work-study has me all over campus. Every time I saw you or walked by the sorority house, I'd change the vibration." Sanzu chuckles then looks at his watch.

"It's time, ain't it?" Mikey pulls your underwear off, leaving the lacy thing on the floor before looking at the device, then back at you.

"You earned yourself some extra credit," he begins. "Are you ready for us, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you keen, jerking your hips up. "Yes, I am."

"Good." Mikey slides the vibrator out of you and puts it up to your lips so you can taste yourself. You suck the device slowly, fingers coming down to caress your swollen clit as you suck your juices off of it.

After this, he stands you up and bends you over the back of the couch, feeling a large, warm pair of hands on your hips. "I'm not going last this time," Takeomi mutters, pants down around his ankles. "Been waiting for this all day." You're more than prepared to take his length, your pussy squelching and sucking his cock into you. "Fuck, yeah..." The slapping sounds of your backside against Takeomi's hips begin, and you moan, feeling the relief of a cock filling you up.

The other six just watch, some with their dicks out, others palming themselves over their pants. Mikey, as usual, is standing at the back of the room, watching the scene before him with crossed arms. This is his foreplay.

He enjoys watching and listening to you squeal more than anything. He enjoys having control over six men who will bend you over and use you as a willing cum dump if necessary, like a breeder who requires his bulls to try their luck with you, the lone heifer.

And it's pleasurable enough for you to keep coming back for more.

"Why don't we record this one?" Sanzu wonders and Takeomi laughs.

"You're gonna have to ask little sister, here. She might not--"

"That-that's fine," you pant.

"Just a little POV thing," Ran adds, pulling out his phone. "Make it real nice, Takeomi." You look back and watch the man inside of you point the phone at the space between your hips, watching his cock go in and out of you with a smile on his face.

"Look at that pussy... she's creaming all over my cock..."

And each frat brother waits his turn to cum in you, with Ran's being the most you've ever felt inside of you at one time, and Sanzu's being the roughest. Kokonoi is taking his turn when you feel cum sliding down your leg, and when he's done, cum drains out of you in a small flood. Your fingers, which have been running over your clit and bringing you close to climaxing, are covered in it, and you want so desperately to stick them inside of yourself and then suck them dry.

Kakucho takes his time bringing you pleasure, tweaking your nipples, and running his tongue down your back and up again. You suppose someone else is filming you two, because both of his hands are on your body as he pumps you full of cum, ghosting his fingers over the slight bulge from his long cock.

Rindou is last, and you watch Mikey pull out his own cock, stroking it while Rin slams his hips into you, making you moan louder than you thought possible. He grips your neck from behind, choking you lightly as you let drool run past your lips and onto the couch. You hear Ran complimenting his brother on his fucking, and your raise on your tiptoes, praying his dick would stop slamming into your cervix.

"Take it," Rin whispers in your ear. "You can take it, sweet girl." You choke out a cry, then grip the couch for all it's worth as Rindou lets himself go. When he pulls out, Mikey stands, his eyes focused on your face as he walks around the couch, taking the phone from Ran and pointing it at your filled and abused pussy.

"Push it all out for me, sweetheart." You obey, feeling the cum leak out of you rapidly before Mikey stands, swiping his cockhead over your pussy lips. "You haven't cum yet?" You shake your head, breathing heavily. "Go ahead and cum on my dick." Mikey enters you and fiddles with your swollen clit, bringing you back to the edge and not relenting. You get no warning prior to the orgasm crashing over you; the feeling of release almost taking you out.

"Oh my fucking god," you cry out, and Mikey pistons his hips a little faster as you clench around him.

"That's a good pussy," he grunts, left hand gripping your hip while he cums inside of you, growling low in his throat. When he's done, he backs away, watching you push out his cum, too. "Now I want you to get on the floor and lick it up," he orders you. "Lick all of our cum up."

You get on your knees and lick the puddle off the polished wooden floor, each man watching you with slack jaws. When you're done, you show Mikey your tongue. He approaches you, grabs your throat, and spits in it, closing your mouth as you swallow that, too.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you?"

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out At Night

Chapter 2: Say My Name. A/N: Rough draft I’ll be posting to AO3 later after I go through the edits. Enjoy now, I’ll be polishing it later. I personally would let Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters step on me but that’s just me

Warnings: Character death, graphic descriptions of violence, gore, horror. Elements of non-con. 

              Time had no meaning for Desdemona anymore as her entire being floated comfortably into a quiet void. She was only accompanied by the sweet sound of silence that filled her ears and that in itself was comforting. She was in such a deep state of sleep that it felt like she would be trapped in the peaceful state of purgatory for eternity, but alas that would no longer be the case. Desdemona thought she was dead; in fact, she wanted nothing more than for that to be the case. Unluckily for her, she was about to wake to unfortunate events that would lead her to believe she was trapped in Hell. At first, she sees nothing in her field of vision but then she hears the shrill sound of familiar laughter that sends a shiver down her spine. The black abyss she grew accustomed to deteriorated all around her, a blinding flash of white light surrounds her for the briefest of moments before Desdemona’s eyes finally opened to reveal the disturbing scene before her. “Mother, my pet is finally awake! Oh, I was growing ever so impatient, my darling little one. I was so desperate to peer into those gorgeous eyes of yours again, I was tempted to pluck them out of your skull as you slept.” A voice whispered dangerously into her ears behind her, wet lips gently wrapping around her right ear before it was released with a pop. “Cassandra, you foul thing, learn your place! How many times do I have to say that it was I who found our prize? Do not touch what does NOT belong to you!” Screeched the woman with the green pendant as she materialized by her side in an instant. It didn’t take long for the fact to register that this was the first time that Desdemona could finally get a better look at the women who attacked the group in the village. Now that their hoods were down, she could better identify them by not only their hair color but by the manner of which they spoke and the pendants they wore. The way they continued to fight over her made her stomach turn as she struggled to comprehend why they wanted her alive and what they were going to do with her.

Another black mass of insects appeared and disintegrated into nothing just as quickly as the third woman decided to chime in, her yellow pendant gleaming brightly against the dimly lit room. Her dirtied, dark brown hair tickled Desdemona’s face as she leaned dangerously over her, the smirk on her face growing wider when Desdemona’s breath grew heavy again. She raised her hand and playfully walked two fingers up Desdemona’s arm and over her collarbone before she roughly grasped her prey’s chin and forced her to look directly into her eyes. “Hello, pretty little plaything, you’ll find that my sisters lack manners when they’re lusting over irresistible blood. You should feel honored you made quite the impression as you did. The others you brought with you are undeserving of your company and you’ll find that they deserve punishment simply by existing. Mother will see to that soon enough.” The brunette told her quietly as she straightened back up.

‘Wait, what did she mean by punishing the others for simply existing? Where were Desmond and Veronica?’ Desdemona worriedly thought to herself. The younger Hawthorne sibling attempted to move but she didn’t realize her wrists were restrained by old fashioned shackles until it was too late. She suddenly felt herself being lifted to her feet by the two crazed sisters standing on either side of her. Each woman occasionally nuzzled into her neck and sniffed at her, nipping at her and licking exposed skin whenever the impulse struck.

Desdemona glanced around her environment and realized that they must be inside the castle if the polished flooring, centuries old artwork and beautiful grand staircase were of any indication. Where else would they be after getting lost out on the trail?

The frightened young woman made the mistake of looking over to her left and found that the red-haired woman known as Daniela was staring at her with a glazed look in her eyes. The sight of her lips parting and blowing her a small kiss made Desdemona’s heart nearly jump out of her throat. She couldn’t avert her gaze out of fear and Daniela took that as an invitation to flirt the only way she knew how. She brought two fingers to her face, spaced them out to a “V” shape and made an obscene gesture with her unusually long tongue, moaning loudly when Desdemona blushed and looked away. “Don’t be shy, my love. Once we take care of Mother’s unwanted pests, we can finally be alone together and I’ll taste you once and for all. You’ll find that I do want to eat you but only in the best way possible. You wouldn’t deny me the pleasure, would you?” Daniela growls out, her eyes fluttering shut as the sound of Desdemona’s blood rushing through her veins and her rapidly beating heart thudding against her chest awakened a whole new need in Daniela. Desdemona wanted to cry out but refrained from doing so when she realized somebody else was coming.

Heels could be heard clicking from afar, a door slamming open and voices shouting in protest behind what seemed to be an impossibly tall, statuesque women. Desdemona’s jaw dropped for two reasons: The woman who entered the room dramatically exuded such class and confidence that it didn’t look awkward in the manner in which she had to bend so far low to pass through the doorway. When she uncurled herself from the uncomfortable position, her golden eyes met gray uncertain ones and they immediately pierced through Desdemona’s soul. The woman brought out a whole new level of terror within her. The second reason Desdemona’s mouth remained agape was due to the fact that the mysterious woman dragged along the wounded bodies of both Desmond and Veronica.

‘They’re still alive!’ Desdemona thought, hope rising in her chest the moment she saw both her best friend and twin reacting to her presence. “Des, you’re okay! Christ, the way these fucking things were talking about you, I thought the worst happened.” Desmond called out to her, desperation in his voice as he attempted to crawl his way towards his sister. Veronica tried to break free from the intimidating woman’s grasp but the woman merely raised a perfectly manicured brow in response and tugged on the chains wrapped around both Desmond and Veronica. They had collars clasped tightly around their necks and they choked as a result of the chains being pulled back.

When Veronica glanced back at Desdemona, the furious expression on her face softened when she noticed the bedraggled state her friend was in. Desmond noticed it too and it only served to fuel his anger. “What the fuck did they do to you? I’ll kill them, I’ll slit their fucking throats and make them pay if they so much as tried to ra-,” Veronica began but was immediately cut off with a harsh slap to the face. “Goddamn, bitch!” “Silence, vermin! Speak when you’re spoken to or you’ll learn your place soon enough should you continue to use foul language in my house. Now, pray tell my daughters, what is it that has you all so eager about entertaining this particular foreigner?” The elegant woman asks as she gives Desdemona a once over. The manner in how she reacts to inhaling Desdemona’s scent alarms the younger Hawthorne sibling. She decides to inspect her more closel with flared nostrils and enlarged pupils. She seemed…pleased, for whatever reason. ‘Do they plan on sacrificing you to appease whatever wicked deity they believe in?’ Desdemona nervously asked herself.

One of the daughters, the one known as Bela and the one with the red pendant, spoke first. “We were out on the hunt in the village when I suddenly picked up on her delicious scent, mother. She’s a carrier of our favorite blood type. We haven’t had anyone like her in so long, we were hoping we could make a feast of her with your permission.”

Desdemona tensed up at the suggestion and vigorously shook her head. “M-may I ask what w-we did to offend you and your daughters? I apologize for any wrongdoing, ma’am but we’re just Americans on vacation and we ran out of gas on the way to Bran! We weren’t expecting to get lost but please let us go, we didn’t come out here to hurt anyone!” She pleaded with tears streaming down her cheeks, her eyes flicking from Daniela to Cassandra and finally, the incredibly powerful woman standing before.

“Des, don’t go begging them. They’re not going to listen to reason, believe me; we tried!” Desmond warned.

The quiet dark-haired woman, Cassandra, sneered at Desdemona’s twin and slashed at his face with her sickle in hand. Desmond cries out and attempts to cover his face with his cuffed hands only to have them ripped away. She kicks his chest and flattens him on the ground. Cassandra smiles wickedly as she brings her heel to the open cut and presses hard against his face for a moment, stomping on him a few times for good measure. Both Veronica and Desdemona scream, begging the sadistic sister to stop tormenting him but their pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Good, girl, Cassandra. The hideous man-thing won’t shut his hole. I’m this close to gutting him on my newly polished floor and letting you girls get your fill for the evening. Ugh!” The woman in charge said before looking over to you once again. “It seems your exotic little treat has good manners considering what she is, however, and wishes to bargain with us. I can be a most gracious host and I’m all ears but I have two conditions if you wish to prolong your life, little one. Allow me to introduce myself first. I am Countess Alcina Dimitrescu and these beautiful girls of mine are my daughters Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela.”  

Veronica scoffed and spat at the floor, earning a glare from the titan of a woman who was apparently on the edge of snapping. Desdemona was ready to leave in one piece so of course she stepped in and spoke on behalf of her brother and her furious friend. “P-pleasure to meet you all, I’m Desdemona Hawthorne and that’s my twin brother, Desmond and my childhood friend Veronica. Ma’am, or My Lady, this all has to be a colossal misunderstanding and we are willing to pay any price if you allow us to leave and return home.”

The trembling girl gasped the moment she felt a pair of cold hands wrap themselves around her breasts from behind. Another set of hands reached for her belt buckle and began undoing her jeans rather enthusiastically. The next thing she knew, her v-neck shirt had been torn in half and her pants torn and ripped off her body.

“Desdemona, such a lovely name and what a lovely body. Mother, please let me keep her? I promise I won’t break her.” Daniela whined as she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her victim’s bare torso. It didn’t help the situation at hand when Daniela’s touch left Desdemona arching back into her, which must have sent the wrong signal because the delusional woman squealed with delight.

“If you or Cassandra had it your way, you’d bleed her dry on the first night and waste her blood when I would savor every inch of her until her very last moment!” Bela complained, her fingers inching dreadfully closer to the band of her undergarments.

“Get your filthy fucking hands off my sister, you twisted bitches. Stop fucking touching her! I’ll kill you, I swear it!” Desmond bellowed, managing to pull away from Lady Dimitrescu’s clutches and lunged at the women that were touching his twin inappropriately. He swung his arms at Daniela and used the length of the chain to whip against the side of her body. Daniela, caught off guard by his sudden attack, screeched in surprise and this immediately angered Alcina.

“ENOUGH!” Lady Dimitrescu signaled for her daughters to apprehend Desmond and the girls obliged, their concern for Daniela overwhelming even to them. Bela and Cassandra ambushed him on either side and using their transformative powers, they pulled him away from their youngest sibling and slammed his body against the nearest wall. Cassandra pinned his shackled hands above his head while Bela held onto his thrashing legs tightly.

Veronica was breathing heavily but made no move to run to him, not while Alcina held her leash tightly. Her brows were furrowed, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip as she tried to refrain from saying anything that would cause them to harm Desmond.

Desdemona could only cry out for mercy as it physically pained her to watch her own twin suffer at the hands of these monsters.

Meanwhile, Alcina had been hunched over Daniela and whispered disturbingly soothing things into her daughter’s ears, words expressed by a loving mother to her daughter, and it looked almost normal. When Alcina stepped away from Daniela, she composed herself after displaying what she deemed a moment of vulnerability and shot Desmond a withering glare. “How dare you touch my daughter with your filthy man-hands, you wretched creature. I can see there is no taming a wild animal like you and like all wild animals, they must be put down! I was ready to lay down my conditions if I were to let you leave alive but you really screwed yourself. Desdemona Hawthorne, seeing as you were polite and tried to communicate in a manner I found pleasing, you shall be gifted to my daughters as their personal form of entertainment. You will be their plaything, and your trashy friend, Veronica, who is now under my employ as a house maiden, will be forced to clean you up after every time they choose to play with you. She will be beaten and broken until she learns what it is to be obedient.” Alcina growls out menacingly, enjoying the way Veronica begins to hyperventilate at the terrifying concept of being broken in by someone like Lady Dimitrescu. Alcina drags Veronica across the room as she approaches Desmond and Veronica is now desperately trying to claw her away from the elegant countess. Raising her free hand in the air, sharp elongated claws form almost immediately at the tips of her fingers. It was in this moment that panic begins to set within Desdemona as she realizes what she’s about to do and so she attempts to rush Lady Dimitrescu. Daniela is quick to catch her prey and uses force to subdue Desdemona. She slams her knee against Desdemona’s back and brings her down to her knees, hooking both of her arms from around and underneath the smaller girl and forcefully raises her arms up. “Let this be a hard lesson, my darling. Don’t you ever disrespect my mother in her own home or disobey her when she gives you an order. There are worst things than death, love, and they wander the mansion unsupervised at night.” Daniela whispers into Desdemona’s ears before bringing her attention back to her mother. Heart hammering against her chest, Desdemona’s blood runs cold when she sees Desmond shed a tear at the realization that he was going to pay the ultimate price. In a quivering voice, Desmond beckons his sister to look at him one final time.

‘Oh no, no no no. They can’t do this, they won’t do this! I have to help him. I’m not sure I can live without my other half, it would be too cruel for me to go on without him!’ Desdemona thinks, weeping at the sight of her twin brother sacrificing his own life for hers. “P-please, my l-lady, let him go I beg you! Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything if you let him go. Don’t take him away from me, please.” Desdemona begs. Steely gray eyes meet hers and she recognizes that he is resigned to his fate. She sucks in a deep breath, unwilling to break eye contact as he says his final goodbye. “See you on the other side, Dezzy. Promise me you’ll make it out of here. Mom deserves to know. I love you and V…so very much.” He tells her with a wavering voice. In the background, Veronica is verbalizing her objections and pleads for Desmond’s freedom but in the end, it was all for naught.

With an evil smirk and a deep chuckle, Alcina brings down her claw at Desmond’s abdomen, slashing him so deeply that his innards begin to seep out of him.

Desdemona feels like she’s suffocating, her lungs unable to function as she struggles to make a sound no matter how much she wants to cry out her brother’s name one more time. She throws her head back and opens her mouth to wail but nothing comes out but a few choked coughs. The surviving twin couldn’t explain it but it felt like Alcina personally reached into her chest and destroyed the most important part of her being. Desmond was her other half and upon death, a most profound connection between siblings is severed and there lies nothing left but an echo of what was once there. Desdemona felt…empty, as if she would never be whole again now that her brother was gone.

She shuts her eyes and the horrifying image of Desmond’s intestines piling up on the floor and blood sloshing everywhere replays again in her mind. The hurt is renewed and this time, she summons every ounce of emotion she could as she screams out his name, Veronica’s loud, panicked screaming fueling her grief.

“DESMOND!”

She screams it over and over again until her body slumps in Daniela’s arms. She’s too weak to do anything else. She can hear voices and the sound of heels clicking but she can’t hear what is being said. Desdemona tries her very best to drown out the background noise as her sorrow was too great but Cassandra’s voice breaks her out of her reverie and it is what she murmurs in Desdemona’s ears as she passes by that makes her whimper for an entirely different reason.

“Just you wait until I make you say my name like a prayer, love. This is only the beginning.”

[niksixx]

Number 73

~Part 2!!! Read Part 1 first please!!!~ 

Requested: By many of you 

Pairing: Axl Rose x Female Reader 

Description: A continuation of part 1!! This fic takes place over the course of about two months. (It’s most likely unrealistic, but when is fanfiction ever real? This also has 2,634 words!!!! I got so carried away lmao ENJOY.) 

Warning: Some cursing and mentions of sex (no smut...yet)

A/N: R E B L O G :) 

*GIF is NOT mine. Found it on Google, so credit goes to the owner!* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I knew he was an asshole, but fuck that’s cold.”

Nodding at your best friend, you bend down to take a sip of your lukewarm coffee, shrugging. It’s been two days since you last saw Axl. The douchebag was all you could think about; Not even the sex you’d had.

You couldn’t fully place the blame on him. You were naive to think you’d mean anything to him, changing anything between the two of you. Like he said, you were just number seventy-three.

“Was it good at least?”

You grin, fighting the urge to spill all the details. “Hate sex is always good, Y/B/F, but hate sex with Axl? Unbeatable.”

She chuckles. “How many girls do you think he’s fucked since you?”

You think for a moment. “Well, I was seventy-three, so I’d say he’s probably at about seventy-eight now. I’m not mad that he has a lot of sex. I’m pissed off that I let myself be used by a man that doesn’t care about me. I wish other girls could see that, too.”

Commitment wasn’t in Axl’s vocabulary. He simply couldn’t bring himself to be loyal. In the years that you’d known the Guns N’ Roses singer, he’d never been in a relationship. Girls were simply his playthings. They served no purpose to him other than pleasure.

Still, even with his mood swings and deplorable attitude, you couldn’t deny your attraction. But you’d think twice about letting the redhead anywhere near you or your body. You wouldn’t be vulnerable. Not again.

On the way home to your house, you drop off Y/B/F. Before she exits the car, she turns to you, the corners of her mouth raised in a smirk. “So what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” You ask, fixing your sunglasses in the rearview mirror.

She gives you a look. “Duh, about Axl. He humiliated you. He fucked you and threw you aside like you were nothing. If I were you, I’d give him a taste of his own medicine.”

You drum your fingers on the steering wheel, gears turning in your head. She had a point. “What, like, I should get even?”

Y/B/F shakes her head, eyes wild, and smiles wide. “Oh no, honey. You’re not just going to get even. You’re going to beat him at his own damn game.”

~~~

“Y/N?” Steven yawns, scratching his head as you push past him into the GNR apartment. Glass bottles and cigarettes litter the floor from last night’s party, and the place reeks of alcohol, smoke, and sweat. “What are you doing here?” He follows your eyes to the floor, wincing. “Sorry, I actually just woke up. Axl and Duff started cleaning but they went out to get pizza for lunch.”

“That’s actually perfect,” You’ve been over the apartment plenty of times before, almost as if it’s your own. The boys needed to find their own respective places, though, as four out of the five were ready to settle down. Grabbing a trash bag, you help Steven clean up the rest of the mess. “Look, I need your help. I trust you the most.”

Steven snickers. “Oh, no. Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m not the most reliable.”

“Maybe not,” you say, hands firm on your hips. “But I trust you to keep your mouth shut.”

Steven groans, taking a deep breath before situating himself on the couch. He waves his hand, “Proceed.”

“You all know Axl and I can’t stand each other,” Steven laughs heartily and you shoot him a hard look. “And after a long few days of thinking, I decided that what I hate, even more than Axl, is being used.”

“Yeah, he told me about your little uh…” He makes a face. “I know you had sex, let’s put it that way. You were number seventy-three, he wrote it down.”

“I’m sure I was the topic of--wait,” You furrow your brows, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “Did you say he wrote it down?”

Steven nods. “Of course he wrote it down. How else would he keep track of all the girls he’s fucked? All the names are in a little brown book under his bed.” Steven’s eyes go wide, realizing his mistake. “I definitely shouldn’t have said that.”

Before Steven can react, you run down the hall and into Axl’s room, rummaging under his bed before your fingers graze a leather cover. You pull it out and flip to the most recent page, and there scribbled in black ink is your name, along with seven other girls’ names from the previous weekend.

“Son of a bitch,” you whisper, thumbing through the other pages. “Shelly Neilson, Diana Fox, Cait Burke, Jade Nichols, Ruby Thompson…”

“Wait a minute,” Steven says, peering over your shoulder. His jaw clenches as he rereads the last name. “Ruby Thompson?”

“What? She an ex or something?” You ask, skimming the first few pages, eyes bulging at the dates. “This book goes back seven years ago. Jesus, Axl.”

You feel Steven’s body tense beside you. You turn, and his face is stone-like. “Ruby Thompson is my goddamn cousin.” Mouth agape, you watch as Steven runs a hand over his face. “That fucking bastard. No wonder he never let any of us see this book.”

“Uh, what’s going on?”

You turn toward the doorway where Slash and his wife stand, eyeing you suspiciously. You give Steven a sympathetic look before turning back toward the door. “I need to find a way to get back at Axl for treating me like shit.”

“Look, I’m not defending him,” Slash begins, earning a warning look from his wife. “But you knew his track record and you still let him fuck you?”

“Okay, technically, because I rode him, I fucked him,” Slash and Steven snicker. “And yes, it was stupid, I realize that now. Having sex with him wasn’t going to fix any animosity between us. But he knows me personally, and he fucking hurt me. I won’t let him get away with it. Not this time.”

“So what’s your plan?” asks Steven.

“That’s why I came here,” you sigh, clutching the book to your chest. “I need your help.”

Slash thinks for a moment. “What does Axl hate more than anything in the world?”

Steven chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. “A lot of things. Competition. Second place. Being used,” Steven shoots you a wink. “And Y/N.”

“Exactly. Axl prides himself on having the most sex out of his whole friend group, right?,” Slash says, and his wife grins wickedly when she catches on.

“If we can keep Axl from having sex for a few weeks, that will give you a chance to reach his body count. He hates when others are good at something he’s good at. ” She says. Slash offers an impressive look. “Y/N, what’s your count?”

Your face flushes, and the two men glance at you expectantly. “Seventeen.”

Steven grimaces. “Seriously? We’re going to need at least a month, maybe more.”

“Hey,” Steven cowers when Slash’s wife pins him with a look. “In this house, we don’t shame women for liking sex and having sex just as much as men do. And compared to some men, seventeen is nothing.”

You send her a smile as a thank you. She nods back, grinning proudly.

“Alright, look,” Steven says, lips curling back in a quick smile. “I have three cousins who would love to help you get back at Axl. He crashed the first one’s car, stole money from the second, and slept with the third’s girlfriend. Come to think of it, she might actually be in here,” Steven reads through the book until he stops on a name. “Yep. Here she is. Misty Evans,” he snaps the book closed. “That motherfucker.”

“I have a brother you can use,” Slash’s wife grins. “And he has a lot of friends.” She wiggles her eyebrows excitedly.

“Okay, okay, hold on,” Slash holds up his hands. “It’s a good plan and all, but how in the hell are we going to stop Axl from having sex?”

~~~

73.

For two months, he was stuck at number 73.

Which was, by far, the best sex of his life.

And it just so happens it was with the person he hated most in the world.

Axl couldn’t get it out of his head. The way your eyes looked him up and down, daring him to leave and begging him to stay at the same time. Your soft lips that he was desperate to kiss again and feel on his skin. The breathy moans that were music to his ears. He’d be breaking his rule if he slept with you again, but Axl’s craving for your body had him considering wiping out the rule altogether.

His attempts to get you off his mind continued to fail as more and more women began to reject his advances. One minute he’d strike up a conversation, and the girls would be all for it, but as he returned from the bathroom or from a quick smoke break or the bar with another drink, they avoided him. Shot him dirty looks. Pretended they weren’t just all over him a few minutes prior. He didn’t understand, and it was driving him crazy.

Little does he know, whenever he leaves, you take his place, quickly showing the girls Axl’s book that hides in your purse, before urging them to stay away. So far, every girl that he’s tried to woo into his bed has shunned him. Many of the girls recognize their own friends in Axl’s book, and they promise you to stay away from him. It was dirty, it was evil, but no one ever wins by playing a fair game.

While he was constantly facing rejection, you were thriving. Axl noticed that whenever you came out with the group, men flocked to you instantly, more than they had before.  You’d barely said three words to him since the night you’d slept together, and hadn’t even looked him in the eye.

He’d buy you drinks, only for you to mutter a quick thanks without returning the favor. Despite not being the best dancer, he’d offer you his hand at the clubs, only to be met with laughter from his bandmates as you accepted another man’s offer. And what blew his mind? Many of the guys looked...familiar.

From his seat at the booth, Axl could see a man shamelessly flirting with you at the bar. He grit his teeth, hand clenching around the bottle in front of him.

“Uh, dude?” Duff signals to the beer. “If you want to practice your chokehold, I’m sure there are plenty of chicks in here who would be more than willing to help you out, if you know what I mean.”

Axl’s eyes never left you. “What the hell is going on with Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” Steven asks innocently, shooting Slash a sly grin. “She’s having a drink at the bar.”

Axl turns to Steven, narrowing his eyes. “I can see that, you dumbass. I mean, why the hell hasn’t she spoken to me?”

“The hell do you care?” Izzy answers, taking a swig of his tequila. “You hate each other anyway.”

“I just don’t think I’ve ever seen her so...relaxed.” Axl remarks, bringing his beer to his lips.

“I mean, I’d be too if I was having as much sex as she was,” Slash grins, dropping a teasing wink in his wife’s direction.

Axl pauses, brows drawn together. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Hesitantly, Slash’s wife clears her throat, chiming into the conversation for the first time that night. “Alright, look, this does not leave the table, hear me?” When everyone nods, she continues. “I promised I’d keep this to myself, but Y/N’s had sex with twenty guys in the past five days.”

Axl’s eyes nearly roll out of his head when the table laughs. He seems to have missed what was funny.

“No shit!” Duff laughs, clapping his hands together.

“That’s fucking impressive,” Izzy smirks.

“So what does that bring her count to total?” Steven asks, fully aware of Axl’s bright red face. He laughs to himself. The singer was hopeless, making it way too easy for the group to fuck with him.

“Seventy bodies,” Slash’s wife cocks her head to the side. Something about her words, her gesture, is taunting. “How many did you say you had again, Axl?”

“Seventy-three,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Wait,” Izzy and Slash say together, “You haven’t fucked anyone since Y/N?”

“Dude, that was over two months ago,” Duff says in a teasing manner.

“It’s not like I haven’t fucking tried!” Axl exclaims, slamming his palm down on the table. He takes a deep breath, finding his composure, and lowers his voice. “I keep getting rejected and I don’t fucking know why.”

“Oh, the horror,” Izzy says, rolling his eyes. “All will be right in the world when Axl finds some random chick to bang.”

Slash and his wife snicker and share a look. Axl shakes his head. He senses something is wrong, but he can’t call anyone out without proof.

Something about you having almost the same amount of bodies as him didn’t sit right. No one in his life even came close. Then again, no one was so obsessed with sex like Axl was. No one was so open about their sex life.

Against his better judgment, Axl finds himself striding toward the bar, visibly irritated as the man next to you rests his palm right above your ass. Axl grabs the man’s wrist and pulls it from your body, pushing him away from you. He ignores the man’s protests, throws back the rest of whatever piss warm beer the dude had been drinking, flips him off, before turning back to you.

The shock on your face is evident. “There is something seriously wrong with you. What the hell, Axl?”

“Seventy bodies?” Axl says, voice condescending. “Some prostitutes don’t even have that many.”

Your blood boils and you swear to yourself you see red. The audacity of this man to shame you. “I see you’re still a dick. What the hell does it matter to you, huh? What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” Axl’s laugh is light, breathy, as he restrains himself from screaming. “My problem is that I haven’t fucked something in two months. I’m going fucking feral.”

“Seems like a you problem,” you retort, puckering your lips before taking a drink. Axl’s book suddenly feels heavy in your purse. You sneak a look to make sure the purse is properly zipped before glancing back to the fuming redhead. “What would you like me to do about it?”

It all comes out in a rush. “I don’t know! Suck my dick, ride me, do something!” Axl cringes when you giggle, face heating. Holy fucking desperate.

“Are you...is Axl Rose...begging?”

He throws his head back in annoyance. This wasn’t going as planned. “I--no. Fuck. Ignore that. Can’t we just go back to my place or something?”

“I thought you didn’t fuck the same girl twice?” You remind him of his words, and you can tell by his face he regrets saying them.

But he remains cool, standing up straight, all the while contradicting his previous statement. “I don’t.”

Finishing your drink, you set it to the side. Batting your lashes, you step forward, a mere centimeter apart from Axl’s face. His breath is raggedy, lips parted, and you see it coming. He leans forward to kiss you, but you’re too quick. Brushing your lips against his ear, palm flat against his chest, you utter the words as confidence floods your veins. “If you don’t want the same pussy twice, then what makes you think I want the same dick twice?”

[lairofsentinel]

More thoughts about Gale and his abandonment issues

[Baldurs Gate 3 spoilers, not much of an analysis, just thinking aloud in case I want to return to these thoughts later during my playthrough]

Checking all the scenes of Gale on youtube so I can finally drag myself into the fucking hell of writing a fic of an early access game [can you reach lower? probably not] I keep wondering about all the layers that his character has.  The more I watch him, deeply unfolding the subtleties of the words he uses (because he doesn’t use any word lightly) I became more confident in the fact that, probably, he won’t abandon the MC if, of course, you don’t treat him like shit. 

He speaks about Mystra with certainty as something left in the past, as something he knows he was a mere plaything. Mystra destroyed his petulant wizard pride, taught him humbleness in the hard way, and basically was the cause that ruined his life ending with a tainted orb stuck in his chest. After which she abandoned him. He was not innocent, but that doesn’t mean he was guilty. Now, he is a more mature char, he knows a lot about limitations and the lack of powers. He finally learn about mensures.

He also speaks about embodiments. He doesn't put in doubt that Mystra is and always will be his muse when it comes to magic. It makes sense, without her, there is no magic at all. But he leaves a pretty clear room for doubts when it comes to love. She abandoned him when he needed her the most... so how much can he truly forget that? 

I bet there is more to his quest in which, through small details and situations, the MC slightly becomes the embodiment of mortal love. And by digging the datamining audios, there is a phrase that made me shift my opinion about a potential abandonment coming from him: “You are all too quick to abandon the one you promised yourself to. It’s not a quality I admire”. I have no idea the context, but it makes clear that, sure, Gale can bend his philosophy about certain aspects, but abandonment is not something he would be flexible. Leaving someone behind when they need help is something that reverberates in his psychology too much to be flexible on that matter.

There is another instance of abandonment/betrayal during the game in which Gale expresses his strong opinion: when you can hand over Astarion to Garadel. Gale was never happy to keep Astarion in the camp, he doesn’t like vampires like most humans in general. However, giving him to Garadel causes his disapproval. He even compares the situation with a friend of his whose dog got old and meaner, and such friend ended up putting the dog down. The whole conversation is tense and acid, showing that clearly these attitudes are not something he can bend, not even for a vampire! 

Now I’m more convinced he won’t abandon the MC [at least with all what we saw/listened in Early Access]. He may have done shit when keeping all his drama secret until sleeping with the MC to share it, but it makes sense for the dread he feels for abandonment. Abandoment issues are strong in his char. It would be extremely crappy and out of his character to do the same kind of abandonment that Mystra did to him but to the MC. It’s hard for me to picture it now. Doubts, grey sentiments, even poliamory? Sure, I can see all that in different degrees of potentiality. But leaving the romanced MC feels too out of character.

However, I still keep thinking about his comments after the party, they are mega crappy. xD They would look convincing for a teenager, but man, we are talking about two mature grow-up persons... I can’t stand the crappy cheesiness in the middle of the shit to smooth the situation. 

“How I could ruin the chance for us to happen?” wow, man. And that decision apparently was only yours to make, uh?. 

“I dont know what I did to deserve the magic you do.” Fucking cheesing shit completely out of place that causes cringe, get out of here, you fucking asshole. You have abandonment issues, my MC has trust issues, this crappy phrase wont fix a damn shit, damn you. 

“You are incomparable” Lol. That’s the biggest one. Accomplished scholar of fuckign Waterdeep, ex lover of Mystra, who watches Mystra’s profile every night, wants to convince the MC that he is not comparing the ex with them. All that stuff of “I’ve been thinking in the moment we shared in the Weave” can’t be done without thinking about how it was the experience with Mystra and with the MC, how that connection, unique and, until that moment, he only had with Mystra, now seems to be possible with the MC. Mystra IS the weave... fucker. Fucking lie. He has been comparing a great deal.

The final kiss. Like... the mood of the whole moment has been ruined. A small break of trust happened (reasonable, understandable, pretty easily forgivable given the context) but the bitter taste still is there... leaning in to the MC and kiss them... is weird. After some cheesy words everything is ok.... pft. Give them some days, or maybe one day since the tadpole is a rushing matter, but the whole thing was an icy bucket falling down, it can’t be ok.

It’s more annoying what Gale says to keep the situation smooth than what he truly did... I mean... talking about an ex lover in a deliberately bad time out of fear? Sure, happens (problem is that Gale gave enough hints to make the MC understand that Mystra is far from being over). Talking about a netherese orb after having enough intimacy because he is trying to exploit the acceptance recently earned? Sure, understandable with the abandonment issues he has (and to be honest, not so terrible if you think all of them have a tadpole and the looming potential of turning into a Mind Flayer, which is quite more dangerous in the harm they can do over different planes than a mere massive explosion of netherese magic). But all that charming prince crap going out of his mouth? oh, man. Stop it. xD

[israltale]

Weird Cookie

Dust scooted even closer in between the walls, all only for one purpose… feel a bit safer. Papyrus was floating around him. 

“I told you they would leave you alone, BROTHER.” He cooed floating close to Dust. 

“They don’t need you. They never wanted you.” Dust tried to make himself smaller, he wanted to escape Papyrus sharp Gaze. 

The Point of Breaking down was drawing closer and closer… All because his supposed friends… were gone. It all had started like a normal day… He woke up and went to the dining hall, normally all of them would meet there to eat together… Not this day, a day he will forever FEAR. 

Dust was normally never the first to enter, but this day the Dining Hall had been empty, Nightmare’s castle had felt even colder as usual. Dust was sure that maybe Nightmare had been busy and the others simply overslept, so he waited…. 

But nobody came.

Dust stood up and started to roam the Castle, searching for his ‘Friends’. The Office their BOSS normally was, was deadly empty, not even dust was there. 

“They left you, Brother…” Papyrus had started to say, while Dust searched the Castle.

“They wouldn’t… They wouldn’t…” He chanted, more to himself and to calm his nerves of being left ALONE. After a long search he stopped dead, his Home… was empty. 

Dust shook his skull. “No… no no no no no no no no .” Papyrus scooted closer to him. 

“They don’t need you anymore… They left you, BROTHER.” 

This had been a few days ago, the agony rose since then, but even after all the waiting and hiding in a corner to try and ignore his Brothers whispers… they haven’t returned. 

“You see it now, don’t you. No one wants a Brother Killer.” Papyrus said, his whispers becoming more and more aggressive. 

Dust shivered in his little corner. Then suddenly a spark of hope rose within him, a desperate attempt to proof his Brother wrong! Dust jumped up. 

“They wouldn’t!” He said, but what if they can’t return? What if they were hurt somewhere, needing Dust to find them? 

Of course Papyrus tried to whisper to him again, that it would be meaningless, that they wouldn’t want him anymore. Dust had to make sure, he needed to search for them. With some Food in his Inventory, he went out to search for his Teammates.

That little desperate spark driving him, that they are out there unable to return. Papyrus still whispering after him. Dust ignored it as good as possible, fixating on the Voices of his Friends and Teammates, calling for him. Even if there were no voices for him to hear, he still believed they called for him. Not knowing that in this Timeline, his Teammates long have turned to dust. 

Dust ventured for days, weeks… even months in search for his friends in this Timeline… But there was no place with any sign of living, if he ventured to one Place in search for his Mates… He only found nothingness or piles of dust. 

“No matter where i go… it only looks like a Genocide timeline.” But it wasn’t him, nor had it the handwriting of his Mates. Nightmare wouldn’t have anything of it… Murder raised only a short Boost of Agony and Grief, only a short boost of negativity. There was something else going on… 

“Oh? What a cute little fella.” A rumbling Voice resounded. Dust turned in a swift move.

A Man stood there, large Horns sprouting out of his head.

“Wouldn’t have thought to actually find someone here.” He said, coming closer to Dust, but the Skeleton went into a defensive stance. 

“Easy. I’m here to Help you.” He said with a strange Smile. 

“Brother, He smells like Danger!” Papyrus growled, only for Dust to hear. 

“Where are my Friends?” The man tilted his Head. 

“Your friends? Not sure i saw them… how they look?” Dust hoped… he WISHED that this Man maybe saw his Mates. 

“They are skeletons like i am, one has a whole in his skull, right here. One has black tar running out of his sockets.” The Man grinned even more strangely, while Papyrus tried to warn him.

“Ah those! Yes yes, i saw them!” Dust stepped closer. 

“Really? Where?” The Man chuckled.

 “I can take you to them, no problem! They are in a Town close to my Home!” He chirped, but it made Dust feel weird. 

“Don’t go with him, Brother!” Papyrus warned him. But the Man said he saw his mates. 

“There was also one covered in strange things. like… hmm liquid…” Dust blinked. 

“Nightmare!” He had no doubt that this Man knew where his mates are. 

“Bring me to them!” The Man laughed darkly. 

“Sure!” He grabbed Dust roughly.

“You will see them SOON.” He chuckled, dragging Dust along with him.

Dust had no Idea where they went, but suddenly the scenery had changed, after they went through a portal.

Large and lush Trees around him, the air smelled lively. But the Man had no patience. Roughly dragging Dust along with him. Until they stopped at a House, a horned Woman inside.

“Ooooh, My Love! What are you bringing there.” The man laughed  manically. 

“A new Skeleton, my Dear.” He brought Dust inside a house, but before the Skeleton could have reacted he was smacked out coldly. The lights went out for Dust, he only could hear the Ghostly voice of his Brother, before he lost all his senses.

The Man grinned at the knocked out Skeleton. 

“What easy prey he was.” He said, his wife purring softly. 

“Yes, i like him!” She said, before her Husband brought the Skeleton down in the Basement. Dust wasn’t their first prey, a lot of dust already piling in a corner, but they wanted to make him the most enjoyable so far. The Man laughed, after securing Dust to the Bench they had down there. 

“Be a good plaything and we might reward you.” He whispered to the knocked out Skeleton. It would take a While before Dust would wake up, but it will be not to something pleasant. 

Dust woke a bit later with a hurting Skull and his Brother whispering to him.

“I told you he is suspicious, Brother.” Papyrus whispered. Dust started to look around in worry, only to see a Woman coming down the stairs.

“Ohhhh You are awake!” She said with a sickening smile. 

“where… what?” The Woman bend over him with an ominous grin. 

“Oh i will enjoy to see how much pain you can handle.” She said, walking over to a table. 

“The others my Husband got for me… they didn’t hold on long…” She said with a disappointed sigh. Dust felt a shiver run down his Spine. The Man said he saw his Mates… did… did they do something to them?

The woman came over, having scissors in hand. “You won’t need your clothes, Darling.. .they are only in the Way for what i want to do with you.” She said, softly chuckling which made Dust feel weird. He wanted to throw up.

He couldn’t do much, while she cut his Clothes open, seeing the Glee on her face was disturbing. “Look at this amazing white BONES! Ah the last i had was so goopy and disgusting… but his Soul was such a deliciously treat.” 

Dust’s eyes widened. She was talking about Nightmare! She did something to his Boss! 

“Get away Dust… Use your magic and run!” Papyrus urged, but Dust was not able to use his Magic. 

“Don’t even try, Sweetheart. Your magic is canceled here.” She said calmly. 

“AAAAH!” Dust screamed, that disgusting Woman had slammed the Scissors down into his Leg. 

“I will enjoy your pain so much!” She said with a radiant grin, it only made Dust fear more for his Life. She had a lot planned for him, and it was not for his entertainment. It didn’t take long to fill the House with Dust’s cries of agony and pain. Dust can’t remember how long he was here already. How long that Woman was away, before returning down to the Basement. He barely got food, even less to drink. But after she broke almost every bone on him and shoved things where they don’t belong… she would leave for a while, not long after that her Husband would come, ripping out his soul, forcing some healing into him and leave Dust to shiver in pain and fear. 

Papyrus would whisper to him, that he should escape, murder them all and then dust himself. Dust could hear the Footsteps and his bones rattled in fear. Was it time already, but then he listened closer… it was not the heavy footsteps of the Husband, nor the scratching of the Woman’s shoes… No it was far lighter, far softer… Dust was not sure if that evil Woman had invited someone to torture him…

“Oh no!” He stopped dead, shutting his Eye Sockets. But this voice he heard was so soft, so young… Then he felt tiny hands on his naked Bones. 

“I knew it… I knew she does evil things!” It was so strange… it sounded so much like a child… but… somehow not? 

“Please hold on a little longer! I will get Help and free you.” Dust finally allowed himself to look to the side, looking at the one who was now down in the Basement. The child next to him had long black ears with blue fur inside the ears and a large black tail that faded into blue. 

“My name is Cheria, please hold on a little longer!” She said, her ears wiggling. 

“Kay…” He said barely. Her ears twitched. 

“I have to go now… i will return soon, i promise.” She said, disappearing fast, as the scratching started to draw closer.

Dust waited for her finally to come down. 

“I returned, Sweetheart.” She said, coming over already with a Hammer in Hand, but there was also a Nail. He feared, he feared so much. The Woman chuckled. 

“Let’s play, yes?” She said, walking behind him. This thing he was strapped on could be easily prepared for her to access the back of his Skull and have him sit. She exactly did that, before he could feel the Nail on the Back of his Head. 

“Please… please no…” He begged, Papyrus whispering to him again, making things not better. 

Then he heard the hitting of the Nail, before the searing pain hit him immensely. His scream echoing through the Walls. The pain was searing into his Skull and even more in his soul. He felt dizzy, everything went Fuzzy for him, so he couldn’t hear the Breakdown of the Door. 

“MOVE!” A deep Voice ordered harshly. Only faintly could Dust hear the heavy footsteps of a few people. Before his Vision faded out completely, he could hear the angered screeching of the Torture Woman.

Cheria hurried down, after the Soldiers had broken down the Front Door, she needed to check on the Poor Victim. The Woman was screeching loudly at the Soldiers, cussing and cursing them for interrupting her. 

Cheria gasped, the Skeleton was not in good Condition, a Nail driven deep into the Back of his Skull. 

“General! We need to Hurry!” She urged the Man coming down with her. He was a Tall Skeleton with Sharp teeth and deep dark green Eye lights. 

“Let’s bring him fast to the Royal Doctor!” He said, urging his Men to keep the Pair in Check, while he and Cheria would get the Skeleton out of there. Freeing the bound Skeleton to bring him fast into safety.

Cheria ran next to him as they hurried to the Castle. The Skeleton still out cold, and they weren’t able to remove the Nail without killing him.

The Royal Doctor looked at them as the General came in with a naked, deeply hurt Skeleton. He started to examine him. Cheria walking nervously up and down.

“Can you save him?” The General tried to Calm her down a bit. 

“Sadly… No… His only option would be the only two capable of saving such heavy injuries… But… His state won’t allow it to bring him there… Nor can’t they come here.” Cheria’s ears flopped down sadly. 

“But… But…” She wanted to complain, too scream, but mostly to rip that Woman apart. 

“There is no saving him…” The Royal Doctor said. The General put his large Hand on her Shoulder.

“Cheria… do me a Favor…” She looked up to him. 

“Yes, Reeve?” She asked softly.

“Go to the Vicinity of Chaos… Meet my Brother and ask him to bring you to her…” Cheria looked at him.

“But…” Reeve shook his Skull. 

“We can only save his life in turning him into a Hybrid… but once that happened… we need to get him out of here. The only place he can go then is to HER.” Cheria blinked… She looked to Dust one more Time, before nodding. 

“On your order, General!” She said, hurrying out of the Room. The Doctor looked at Reeve. 

“Are you sure?” Reeve nodded. 

“I want to give him the Chance to life… if he doesn’t want to then She will help him move to the next realm.” 

Cheria ran as fast as possible through the darkened Forest, that will bring her to the other Vicinity. She stopped dead as there resounded the Sound of scratching Metal. 

“Please Wait!” Cheria screamed. 

“Cheria?” Cobra looked at her in confusion. She got down to her knees. 

“Sir Cobra, General Reeve send me to speak with My Lady!” She said in distress. 

“Reeve? But… Alright… Follow me.” He said, getting to the dark Castle in the Distance. 

Narish raised an Eye brow as Cobra entered with that Girl from the Order Vicinity. 

“What is going on here?” He asked sharply. Cobra bowed to him. 

“Cheria was send on behalf of my Brother… There is a need to Talk with the Guardian.” Narish sighed after a while… 

“If they have to… Kiros, bring her.” He said, the skeleton with Tar running down his Face bowed to Narish, before Leaving. Narish was very protective of their Guardian. It had a good Reason, she was taken already once.

Kiros returned with her after some time. 

“Cheria?” The little Girl Bowed. 

“It is good to see you, My Lady.. General Reeve send me, because we have an Urgency happening.” Millenia looked at her. 

“Is it regarding to the New born Hybrid a few minutes ago?” Narish turned to her, even Kiros and Cobra starred. 

“Yes, My Lady… We found a Skeleton heavily tortured from a Pair of Pure Bloods… His Condition was to heavy to bring him here safely…” Millenia nodded. 

“I see…” Narish growled at them. 

“Now what?” Cheria bowed deeply. 

“We wish to bring him here, where he is safe from the Kings Laws.” Kiros looked to Narish. 

“Boss…” The Black, four tailed Skeleton growled, his Cyan eye fixed on Cheria. Millenia turned to him. 

“Narish…” He snapped his eye to her. 

“Please let us fetch him, see how he will fair here.” Silence ruled the Room. “Alright… Cobra, i ask you to pick up this New Hybrid and bring him safely to our Castle.” Cobra bowed. Millenia went to Kiros. 

“Dear, can i ask you to fetch Caim for us? He will be in heavy condition once getting to us and needs Medical surveillance.” Kiros nodded. 

“Leave it to me, Guardian.” Narish huffed, watching as Cobra and Cheria leave to get that new Hybrid.

“What if he won’t survive?” Narish asked, watching as Millenia drew closer to him. 

“Let Caim check on him first…” Narish pulled her closer. 

“But… What if he doesn’t want to survive?” Millenia softly stroked his Skull. 

“Then i will guide him. It is hard for us all yes, but it is better to let him leave if he wishes.” Narish nodded softly. 

“Alright… I… should tell Alure and Solei.” He mumbled. Millenia nuzzled him. 

“Let Caim first check on him, to see how he is faring.” Narish squeezed Millenia closer to him. He had seen so many Halflings die at the Hands of the Order Vicinity… Millenia soothed him softly. 

“First we need to do our best for him… then we shall see Revenge carried out.” She said. 

Cobra was shocked as he came to fetch the new born Hybrid. Not only had he already went through the Changing's… no he was in really bad Condition. 

Cobra was careful as he brought him back to the Chaos, Kiros waiting for him already, to see that Dust was brought to Caim. The Doctor had purple hair and deep purple eyes, but he looked at nothing at all, as they entered. 

“On the Bed with him.” He ordered.

“Caim… can you help him?” Cobra asked, once he had put down Dust on the Bed. 

“I’m not sure… his Aura is weak and barely detectable… i may need your assistance.” Cobra sighed, he had feared exactly that. 

“Alright.” He answered, as Caim slowly moved closer. Kiros went out of his way, even if the Doctor could see the flickering of his Aura. 

Caim carefully moved his Fingers across the faint Aura glow. 

“Torture marks…” He whispered. Cobra nodded. 

“Yes, My Brother told me he was tortured heavily, they removed a Nail out of his Skull after he turned… The Crack… did not heal.” Caim nodded. 

“Obviously… But it was a good decision. Removing it before hand surely could have killed him…” He said, then stopped, his eyes moving to the Door. 

“My Lady is approaching.” Cobra blinked. 

“Arisa?” The door Opened a bit after Caim said it. 

“Excuse my Intrusion Caim.” The other Chuckled. 

“Oh please, it is always a balm to my restless soul to see the black and purple glow approaching.” Millenia chuckled. 

“You flirt, but please… how is he?” Caim sighed. 

“His aura is very weak, Reeve made the right call to turn him before informing us.” Caim said, slowly moving. Each and every time Kiros met the Doctor he was heavily impressed. 

Caim was blind, the only thing he was able to see is the Aura of living beings, but stuff like a Bed was dead and had no Aura, so he had to carefully navigate his way through the room. It took him a long time to examine Dust fully. 

“I will prepare medicine for him… The Cracks on his Body can maybe heal with it… but the Crack on his Skull and the Cracks in his Soul can not… He will need a lot of food and even more water to replenish what they took from him.” Caim said, making his way through his herbs, smelling and feeling them to find the right Plants. 

“What about the spark of Surviving?” Cobra asked. 

“He still has it… But i don’t know for how long…” Caim mumbled. Kiros turned to Millenia.

“Boss and i may be able to help him.” Millenia looked to the red horned Skeleton.

“His Name is Dust… he was Part of the Crew i was in before coming here… While i changed i am still somehow a Version of his Crewmate Killer…” Caim blinked. 

“You should give it a Try at least.” He said, turning to offer the Medication.

Millenia sat at the Lake, it has been days since Dust has been brought here. Alure was laying close to her, his head resting in her Lap. 

“How is he doing?” He asked carefully. 

“He is barely awake, Alure… And if he is awake longer he screams and mumbles… Kiros is trying his best to calm him.” She said softly. 

“I want to kill them.” Alure suddenly said. 

“The pair?” The smaller Hybrid nodded. 

“Yes…” Millenia wanted to answer, as she heard footsteps. 

“We shall have it, dearest Alure…” Narish said. Millenia turned, impressed to see the new Hybrid with the Leader. Dust still looked confused and weak, but he wanted to see a little bit of the Place he was brought to. Alure jumped up. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked carefully, only to see the others eye Lights dart around in distress. 

“So… so many voices… stop them… please stop them!” He begged, shrinking as much as Possible. It didn’t took that long until Millenia’s soft Voice filled the Air with a soft Melody. Dust finally relaxing.

Narish looked at Alure who nodded and took Dust away. “Kiros told me about it… Seeing that i never had them..” 

Millenia turned to Narish. “Right… But what?” Narish went next to her, watching Alure show Dust the Lake. 

“Dust… He killed all the Monsters in his World and was then picked up by Nightmare to join the Bad Sanses… But the Guilt of killing his own Brother gave him Hallucinations.” Millenia sighed. 

“Those turned a million times heavier as a Dragon.” Narish nodded. 

“We should ask Caim for something to calm this.” Alure helped already a lot in showing him around and with his sweet personality keep the voices at bay. It gave them Time to consult Caim. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Alure looked at the new Hybrid, from Kiros he knew that he still had his old Name. 

“Dust?” the other cooed softly. It took a while before the purple horned Skeleton looked at him. Alure had some Flowers in his Phalanges. 

“I know it is hard for you… getting used to this new life… settling with all the Stuff going on… but.” Alure looked again to him. 

“Won’t you try at least? Give yourself a new Name, like we all did.” Dust wanted to say something. 

“They just leave you all alone again, BROTHER.” Papyrus distorted, multiple Voice resounded in his Head, it felt like a Million People were talking. 

Dust winced in Pain, trying to hide again from everything, only to feel small bones over his own. He slowly moved his mismatched Eye Lights, only to look in the calming deep purple Alure called his own. 

“Don’t listen to him. Don’t let them pulverise your Mind.” Alure said softly, but it broke through all the Voices. It was as if Papyrus and all the others Faded away. 

“Pul… Pulvis…” Alure almost chuckled. It sounded like Dust wanted to say pulverise but lost some of the Letters. 

“Pulvis? It sounds good, should we make it your Name?” He asked, to give the other reassurance. Dust liked the sound of it, how Alure spoke this Name, before he slowly nodded, earning a bright smile from Alure. 

“Yo.” Kiros walked over to them. 

“Hello Kiros! Our new Friend finally picked a name for himself!” Kiros set down next to them, once close to Dust the voices went even more Silent. 

“Oh? So what we gonna call you from now on?” Kiros asked Dust. He blinked, while he behaved as a little Child, tortured by voices, all of the Hybrids made a fine Point to speak to HIM and not to one another… it felt… nice. 

“Pulvis.” He mumbled. 

“Heh, i like it. Ready to see the Doc, Pulvis? He want to Check on you.” Pulvis nodded.

Kiros walked with him back to the Castle. Pulvis preparing to meet Doctor Caim again, but he didn’t like him much, he never looked the Hybrid in the Eye Lights. 

“Killer…” Pulvis asked. 

“HE IS NOT KILLER!” The Voices screamed at him, he flinched back, only for Kiros to grab him. 

“It’s fine! Call me Killer as long as you need.” He said. Pulvis could easily break free, but it would mean facing his voices. 

“So? What is troubling you.” They all were painfully aware of the Voices, not only knew Kiros from his own Dust as he was still about and kicking, but also Millenia could feel their flickering, faintly but she still could. 

“Why…. Why is the Doc never looking into my eye lights?” Kiros blinked, he almost had a Panic attack because of that? Oh boy. 

“Because the Doc is blind. All he can ‘see’ is the flickering of Aura, your magic, your soul, but that is all, other than that he is Blind.” Pulvis blinked. The Doc… was blind? But he went through the Rooms as if he sees everything.

“o…. oh..” Kiros smiled at him. 

“You wouldn’t think that, right? He moves as if he sees, but it’s because everything is in the same spot in the rooms he moves around.” Kiros explained. It finally made sense to Pulvis and he could move on. 

Caim already waited for him, strangely enough… Narish was there as well. 

“How are you feeling?” Caim immediately asked, as Pulvis came closer. 

“Better.” The Doc nodded, waiting for Pulvis to sit down on the Bed. The others were silent, while Caim asked and examined Pulvis. 

Narish watched them like a Hawk.

“And?” He said after Caim stepped back. 

“His Aura is far stronger, seeing how weak it was as he was brought to us.” Caim said, while Moving to his Table. 

“But also has the distortions.” Pulvis flinched softly. Kiros stepped to him. 

“It’s fine Pulvis.” He cooed to calm the other. 

“Ah so he decided on a Name? Welcome to the Vicinity of Chaos then, Pulvis.” Narish nodded. 

“Doc about the Distortions.” He sighed. 

“There is no way to remove them completely, not even in this strengthened Form… BUT!” Caim said immediately, before Narish could interrupt him. 

“There is something that may help him.” He searched through some things. 

“If he has a Panic Attack or the Distortions get to heavy then let him have this. I’m not sure how efficient it is in his State, but it is worth a Try.” Pulvis listened to him. 

“Want to try it, Pulvis?” Kiros asked, Pulvis nodded carefully. 

“Yeah.” Narish nodded. 

“Kiros, i will leave Pulvis to The Guardian, you and Alure…” Kiros nodded. 

“Sure, Boss.” He said, Pulvis felt immediately that familiar smug grin on Killers Face, but Kiros was a bit different. Alure poked his head in. 

“Nari? It’s dinner time.” The Leader nodded. He didn’t mind Alure to call him Nari, he never did. Narish was different as his alternate, very different. Pulvis found the small differences and it made him feel easy around the little Dragon Hybrid, or the others in General.

They all went to the Dining Hall, like it was before it was here custom as well to Eat together. It made Pulvis feel warm, but also worried. Kiros had warned him to not approach Solei alone, Pulvis still didn’t know why. Not knowing that he would learn… soon. 

The Dinner was mostly calm, some jokes here and there, a bit of Talking, nothing unfamiliar to Pulvis, only one thing was out of Place… Solei starred at him. 

“I like your eyes.” He said suddenly. 

“Uh… Thanks?” Solei grinned at him. 

“I wanna see them in tears, while i make you come apart underneath me.” Pulvis flinched. 

“He is the same! They are all the same, BROTHER!” Papyrus alarmed him. 

Pulvis doesn’t want to experience this again! He doesn’t want to be hurt again and again. Papyrus distorted Voice and a lot more got louder and louder. Pulvis was unable to hear what the others said. 

“SOLEI STOP!” Alure shouted. 

“But… Brother.” Solei said with a small whimper. 

“No! Leave Pulvis alone! Don’t try your tricks on him!” Alure growled at him. The smallest Hybrid sighed, before the rattle of the Chair and the hurried footsteps alarmed them all of Pulvis fast escape. 

“I’ll take care of this.” Kiros announced, standing up to follow his panicking Friend. Alure watched the other Leave, before turning to Solei. 

“this was UNNECESSARY!” Solei flinched back. 

“I… i didn’t mean to… i just…” Alure huffed at him. 

“You just wanted to force your Greed on him! Leave Pulvis alone, Solei.” Alure was mad, everyone could sense that. 

“To be honest… I like it when Alure is mad.” Narish mumbled. Cobra shook his Skull, while Millenia chuckled. 

“I know, it’s damn sexy.” Narish huffed amused. 

Kiros went down the long hallway, he was sure Pulvis had run somewhere and was following his Trail. Luckily for the red Dragon he was a Hunter, his gained Dragon Magic granting him some neat tricks to follow any Prey. 

Pulvis Trail leaded to his Room, where Kiros could hear him whimper in Pain. He couldn’t wait until the other may calm down enough, so he just picked Pulvis lock to get into the Room. The red Hybrid still had the Stuff Caim had given them, as he went to the Bed. 

“Pulvis, it’s fine. No one will hurt you.” Kiros cooed softly, climbing on the others Bed. 

“Here, take a bite of this, but chew good.” Kiros slowly and carefully eased Pulvis into taking the strange smelling herbs. It took a while and Kiros finally understood what Caim had given them. 

Strangely enough to see that Weed was helping a Hybrid with his Hallucinations. It took some time but it helped. Pulvis slowly went calmer after this huge Panic Attack. 

“Please don’t leave me…” He whimpered, while Kiros eased him into the Bedsheets. 

“I won’t… Hell we all won’t. This Vicinity is now your Home, no one will leave you.” Kiros whispered to him. 

While the Red Hybrid took care of his new Teammate, the others went to clear something. Alure huffed.

 “I want to rip out their Guts!” He said sharply. 

“Easy Alure… while we got approval form Reeve, we still need to be Careful at all means. They are Pure Bloods after all.” Narish said calmly. 

“And that does mean they can torture anyone?” He hissed. 

“No it doesn’t.” Narish cleared out. 

“Alure.” Millenia stepped into the Leader office. 

“I know you want to punish them, but we need to do this as secretly as possible, while making sure it looks like Suicide.” She said calmly. 

“But…” Millenia kneeled down. 

“I know Alure… But if the King of Order finds out about this… he will try to destroy this little Place we build.” Narish nodded. 

“I agree. We all want to Punish them… but we need to be smart.” Cobra sighed. 

“Then let’s move in the night, i know all the secret Paths around the Order Vicinity.” Alure looked to the Skeleton. Narish nodded. 

“I will leave this matter to you and Alure. Revenge our Friend.” Cobra bowed to the Leader. Alure did the same. 

“On your order.” He said and left with the other. 

Kiros woke up the next day, Pulvis cuddled close to him, resting finally peaceful. It seemed the distortion went lower with the Herbs and a Friend close helped him sleep. A Good thing to Know and he would inform Narish about this. But now Pulvis should gain the needed peace, he was missing until know. 

Even if that meant… Kiros was in for a very boring day, while staying with Pulvis and let him sleep. He would learn about the successful revenge later, once Alure gathered them all for Breakfast. 

“Kiros…” Pulvis mumbled. 

“What is it?” He answered. 

“I want to learn about Herbs…” Kiros blinked. 

“Then let’s ask Caim later… He can teach you all he knows about them and how to make medicine with them.” Pulvis nodded. 

“Thanks.” Kiros chuckled. 

“Seems like you found something to do for the Vicinity… You’ll be someday our Master Herbalist.” Kiros said, while Pulvis drifted off to sleep again.

“You will help yourself with it as well.” Kiros whispered, only to see that tiny smile gracing Pulvis. He was on a good way to get better.

[faunaflanaganarchive]

Wearing Pink: Sauna

Who: Fauna Flanagan & Sawyer Hudson @sawyerhudson Where: The Projection room When: 18th August 2020 What: On day three of their week of scenes together Sawyer gets a visit from his favourite Queen Bee Regina George, who learns a lesson about who follows who’s rules. Content/Trigger Warnings: Smut, light humiliation I guess?

Sawyer waited in the projection room, long after production club disbanded for the day. The basket he won from Lisette in the auction was placed on the table beside him as he waited in a swivelly chair, memorising the contents. He got out each item to examine in, only putting them back in the basket out of convenience to carry them with him. He smirked when he heard the door open and turned to find Fauna in full Regina garb, wig in place and a bratty scowl to boot. "Hey babe," He greeted with a wink, running his fingers through his hair so she'd notice his slicked back style, "Miss me?" Fauna had always been taught by Collin that brat equalled bad submissive. If someone called you a brat they meant that you were out of line, thus she’d always shied away from behaviour that might be considered even remotely bratty. Regina however had no such qualms and there was something very freeing in that. In playing the mean girl, she’d spent the morning listening to the musical and now with her wig in place and the iconic black sweater on her shoulders she eyed her boyfriend with a mixture of anger and arousal. “You think being hot is going to make me any less angry that you’ve kept me waiting all day?” She asked, closing the door behind her and advancing on him. “Do you know how hot I am? Your peppy little girlfriend might be willing to moon around all day until you ready to see her. But I am not the kind of girl who’s needs you ignore.” She accused poking him in the chest with one freshly manicured nail. Sawyer's smirk didn't falter when Regina lashed out at him, and he couldn't help but chuckle. He knew there was something freeing about being in this persona to Fauna, to help her let out more bratty tendencies in a safe way where she wouldn't feel an actual punishment following. And there was something about Sawyer that loved it when she bit back and showed a bit of attitude and, if she felt her most comfortable doing it as one of his favourite movie characters, well, he wasn't exactly going to complain, was he? "Patience is a virtue," He cooed, "hey, I thought we agreed to not talk about the boyfriends and girlfriends when we meet up, or are you feeling extra rebellious today?" He lightly grabbed her wrist. "If you keep being like that, we'll just fight and I don't get to give you your present, do I?" He asked, nodding towards the basket. “Don’t patronise me Hudson.” The little submissive demanded as he cooed at her, even though her stupid heart still skipped when she saw him. “I think that I’ll mention whatever I want-“ She started, before he grabbed her wrist. Her wide brown eyes eyed the basket, weighing presents against her annoyance. And in true Regina fashion she  shifted from the scowl, to something more seductive. Slipping close to him she pressed breasts against his  body. “You got me a present.” She purred. “You should have lead with that handsome... god you do look sexy with your hair pushed back.” The blonde added sliding her arms up to loop around his neck. Letting out an involuntarily moan at the feeling of her breasts against him, Sawyer snaked his hands around her waist, pulling her in closer. He rolled his eyes at Regina's obvious fakeness when it came to the presents, but smiled at her nonetheless, especially at the compliments he was getting. "Presents, all pink for it being Wednesday and all. It's a bondage themed basket." He played with a strand of her blonde hair, "How do you like the idea of that, cuffing your wrists together whilst I fuck you in every position possible on every surface of this room?" The blondes eyes glinted when he moaned, only shifting herself closer to him as his arms went around her waist. She liked seeing him want her. “It’s so considerate of you to remember that I wouldn’t put anything that isn’t pink on my body.” She responded, dragging a hand down his chest and palming his cock through his pants. Regina wanted to play with him a little before she gave up her control. “Sounds hot, I’ve been thinking about you inside me all day. It’s why I was so desperate to see you, because my mind has been on nothing except ripping your clothes off.” "Hmm, maybe one day I'll coerce you into another colour?" He asked, letting out another breathy moan at the feeling of the pressure of her hand against his cock. That's what he enjoyed about the Regina personality; she wasn't scared to just jump in and do what she wanted, no matter the consequences (although they both knew she almost always got away with it). "Strange minds think alike," He agreed, taking back some of his control by once again grabbing her wrist, although a part of him really didn't want her to stop."But if you want to rip my clothes off, you're going to have to ask nicely babe. Or there'll be consequences." “I don’t think so Hudson, on Wednesday I wear pink, those are the rules.” Regina responded, a smirk passing across her face when he let out a moan. She wanted to hear him moan for her again. “Maybe so, but it seems like I’ve got you a little hot and bothered Hudson.” She pushed, letting out her own little moan as he grabbed her wrist. “Please Sawyer.. please let me rip your clothes off and fuck you.” She purred, rocking her hips against him in an attempt to produce more of a reaction. His hand that wasn’t gripping his wrist snaked around her waist, caressing the curve of her ass. “Aren’t rules meant to be broken?” Sawyer then asked with a cheeky smile, letting out a groan as she rocked against him, his own hips bucking forward. He managed to catch himself in time, both of his hands snapping down to catch her hips. “I believe you call me Sir, sexy.” He reprimanded. “Try again. Because I have no qualms using the fluffy handcuffs to tie you down and work the vibrator over you again  and again as you beg for my big, hard cock to fill you up instead.” He warned, a dangerous glint in his lust-blown eyes. She hooked her leg up around him the best she could despite their height difference, pink heel digging into him. "Oh but Sir I'm pretty sure you're insisting I follow your rules, so can't you respect mine?" She purred, meet his eyes and raising one freshly shaped eyebrow. "You might not have any qualms, but you would be ever so disappointed if you didn't get to put that cock where you want it." She teased, taking his hand in hers and guiding it into her panties so he could feel how wet she was. "You know how much you want me." Sawyer let out a hiss at the pressure of the heel in his skin, giving in to letting her guide his hand, groaning at the wet heat between her legs. “I mean if I want to put my cock in something I do have a girlfriend, you’re just my pretty little plaything.” He told her, fingers teasing her folds before sliding one in and curling it. “I think you should bend over for me now and shut that smart mouth up before I do it for you.” He warned. She knew that she looked like a cat who’d got the cream when he hissed at the pressure from her shoe. Wriggling against his hand a little, and rolling her eyes at the mention of his girlfriend. “A plaything with the best cunt in this entire school, there’s a reason you keep coming back to me. Because nobody fucks like Regina George.” The blonde declared, bucking against his hand again. There was something empowering about getting to say things she would never say normally. She tried to always be kind and never fall into the bitchy girl stereotype but god was it fun to play. She made eye contact with him as she stripped off her clothes before she bent over slowly, putting her hands behind her back for him. He watched as she got herself in position for him, eyes never breaking from her. God, it was so fun to play against this role. He went over to the basket, getting out the pink fluffy handcuffs and the pink ball gag, showing them to her. “Since you took a while to listen to me, I’m just gonna do what I want to you.” Sawyer declared. “Plus, since you have the best cunt in this school, allegedly, better prep it well.” He cuffed where her hands met behind her back, attaching the ball gag around her head, making sure it was tight but not too loose. “God you look so hot with your mouth full.” Sawyer teased, heading back to the basket and pulling out the pink vibrator, moving her legs for her to spread them open wide, turning on the toy and pressing it against her sex. She made sure to look over her shoulder at him with a glare when he declared that he was going to ‘do whatever he wanted to her’. By the time she had formed a clever a response he was putting the gag in, so she settled for a single quirked eyebrow that she hoped he would read as ‘try me’. Him spreading her legs for her was hot, she’d give him that. The vibrator started and her hands clenched in the cuffs, the pleasure a sudden jolt to her system. Though she was to determined to hold back her moans for now, still playing power games despite her current predicament. He chuckled at the quirked eyebrow and almost reached to flick her nose, remembering at the last moment that it was something he did with Fauna, not Regina. So instead he did something much more sexier, he reached over and tweaked her nipple. "Got something to say, babe?" He taunted, in a very Chris Abrams manner, flicking the vibrator up to a higher setting. Whilst he was dying to give into what they both wanted, he refused to give in until she did, desperate to hear the gargled moans against the ball gag. "How are we feeling?" He asked, pressing against her, his free hand unzipping his jeans in preparation. She bit down on the gag as hard as possible as he tweaked her nipple so that she wouldn’t squeal and give him the reaction that he wanted. She shifted her legs a little though, to show him she wasn’t fucking having it especially not him calling the almighty Regina George babe. It was even harder to make no noise as he pressing against her. If she’d been playing as herself she would have just begged him, pleaded for him to just fuck her. But not Regina, she still wanted to win, to prove how much he wanted her. She wanted to give in, that much was obvious. And Sawyer had all the time in the world to make her admit it. He continued playing with her nipples, alternating between them with one hand as the other steadily held the vibrator against her cunt. “Babe, you look so good like this, why don’t you just give me what I want and I can give you what your want?” He growled in her ear, taking the vibrator away, turning it off and putting it on the side, his fingers sliding through her folds. “Fuck you’re so wet,” He confirmed, his breath hot and heavy against her skin, his digits slipping inside her, “you feel so good around my fingers, and we know it’d feel better if it were my cock instead babe. You show me you want me and I’ll even take the ball gag off so I can hear you scream my name. So everyone at this school knows that Regina George is Sawyer Hudson’s little bitch.” Her body was on fire with pleasure, between his fingers playing with her already hard nipples and the vibrator on her cunt it was a near impossible task to keep quiet. Inside her head she had to keep counting from one to five, one to five so that she didn’t just squeal for him to fuck her. Her hips strained involuntarily as he leaned down to growl in her ear,  and she couldn’t help but let out a little noise of frustration when he turned the vibrator off. The addition of his fingers was torturous. And she did look over her shoulder at him, considering just giving up and admitting what she wanted. She wasn’t sure why it was hot when he said she’d be his little bitch but it was. “Fine.” She tried to say around the gag. “Fuck me?” The words were mumbled but she was pretty sure he’d be able to tell what she was saying. Making sure his face seemed as innocent as possible as his fingers played with her, he shot her a wink as she turned to once again glare at him. He smirked when she finally gave in, and the hand playing with her breasts dropping so he could remove the gag. “I thought you’d never ask. But I’m debating whether or not to let you come because of your attitude. You really need to impress me.” Removing his fingers from her, he sucked on them. “And honestly, just on the way you taste, you’re on your way back into my good books.” Grabbing a condom from his jean pocket, he got his cock out of his pants and boxer, ripping the condom out of its foil and rolling it onto his erect length. There was something about him fucking her whilst he was still basically fully dressed and she was unclothed before him. Rubbing his cock against her folds for one last teasing moment, he eased inside her with a groan. “Fuck, you feel amazing.” He complimented her, dropping all pretense for a moment. Normally she would have giggled when he winked at her, but as Regina she simply rolled her eyes. She moved her jaw a little dramatically as he removed the gag, though inside she was buzzing with excitement. “I’m always impressive Sir, but I guess I can be extra impressive if there an orgasm in it for me.” She conceded, letting herself moan as he pulled his fingers out of her. Shifting a little as she heard him rip the condom, god did she just want him to fuck her at this point. The blonde whimpered as he dragged his cock through her folds, letting out something akin to a sob as he slid inside her. “Please God fuck me Sir.” She begged, more Fauna than Regina in that moment. “Fuck me hard.” She added, shifting back into character. It was interesting, hearing the shift of tone between Fauna and her Regina persona. It had Sawyer aroused even more, which was slightly confusing if he took time to think about it, which, right now, he couldn't even, too focused on instead fucking the beautiful girl spread out before him. He chuckled when it seemed that Regina won the battle, and he slipped into her with not much warning, body enveloping her, gripping her by the hair but careful enough to not loosen the wig. "If you insist." He murmured in her ear, pulling out and thrusting back in hard, picking up his pace quicker than he usually would have, not giving her the moment to get used to the feeling of him filling her up. As he began to fuck her the blonde couldn’t have stayed quiet even if her life had depended on it. He was impossibly big inside her, and she dug her fingernails into her palms as he pulled at the artificial hair. “Don’t fucking stop.” She begged, there was something so sexy to her about how roughly he was fucking her and she almost wished she could see his face while he was doing it. She knew that with all the teasing and the waiting she wouldn’t last that much longer. “Fuck I’m close Hudson.” She managed to tell him. He grabbed her by the hips, fingernails digging into the skin, angling them both so he was hitting her just right, thrusts hard and heavy and quick, hips snapping with each moment. Her begging went straight to his cock and whilst he would normally reprimanded Regina for her lack of manners, he was too far gone to care. He pulled her head back by her hair, gripping it tightly, biting at the exposed skin on her neck. "Come for me," He commanded, growling low in her ear, "Cry out my name, let everyone know who gets you this needy and desperate, the only person who knows how to fuck you right." His own orgasm was close, but he was focused on her right now, hands loosening from her waist so his thumb could rub her clit as he kept pounding into her. She let out a sob of pleasure as his fingers dug into her skin,  his cock was slamming against her gspot and she was more than ready to fall over the edge for him. Still half moving her hips back to meet him, but sloppier now that her brain was less focused. The coil was ready to explode and she fell over the edge. “Shit.. Sawyer, Sawyer. I’m Sawyer Hudson’s little bitch.” She screamed, feeling herself release her orgasm and falling boneless against the desk. Her whole body sweaty, and spent. The noise echoed through the room and Sawyer cried out as she screamed, riding through their orgams together, pounding hard and sloppily. "Yes you fucking are!" He commended, pleased she did what she was told, crying out over what he did to her, which only made him keep going, despite how oversensitive the pair were. Once he slowed and calmed down, getting the aftershocks out of his system, he pulled out with a hiss, disposing the condom and buttoning up his jeans, before unlocking the fluffy handcuffs. "I think that was the hottest thing we ever fucking done." He told her with a chuckle. "What do you want to do now?" Him adding that yes she was his bitch made the whole thing hotter, and she lay satisfied beneath him until he pulled out. She steadied herself internally, and then once the handcuffs were undone, she stood and began to gather her clothes. “Oh did you think I was going to stick around and tell you how pretty you are Hudson? No I don’t think so.” She responded, flattening her hair, and pulling on her clothes sans panties. “If you want someone to hold your hand, call your girlfriend.” Reaching down she scooped up her hot pink panties. “Oh and hold onto these for me won’t you?” He couldn’t help the snort that left him, but it was Regina so he couldn’t be surprised. He gladly snatched the panties from her hand, tucking them in his jeans pocket. “Anything for you, Regina.” He said, “See you around sometime?” She smirked at him as she headed for the door. "Sure Hudson." The Fauna part of her wanted to run up to him and give him a proper kiss goodbye, but Regina said no dice and instead lingered in the doorway for a moment. "You really do look sexy with your hair pushed back." She added, and then exited.

[kindoron]

A Weed in the Forest

DISCLAIMER: Contains Violence, Rape, and Misgendering

Kindoron was out, riding along with a few of his brothers on scout duty. A boring job, lame, awful, and devoid of any action most of the time. He’d spaced out a little, having his horse lag a bit behind the others so he only had to focus on following them. 

This was sparsely forested land unlike the rest of the Steppe. It was summer after all and wouldn’t be long before they moved on. They still had to make sure the land was as safe as possible for the children. Whether it be beast or man to be scared off. 

It wasn’t too long before the lead rider held up his hand and brought his horse to a sudden stop. He knew to be silent and had his horse stop as well, slowly moving forward to see what it was. His tribe brother pointed and he could barely make out the colors of their robes. Borlaaq. He sneered evilly at the thought and looked at his brothers, they each had the same evil grin. They weren’t riding horses curiously or had a pack animal. Three of them, one for each. His tail swished eagerly as he tried to assess them for his pick.

They wordlessly charged in unison at the small group. Not yelling nor screaming, they probably didn’t hear until it was too late. The group of girls looked up in surprise as they charged them. Two drew their bows but Kindoron unholstered his axe and swung it easily breaking through the wood. The other suffered the same from his brother. Swinging their horses around and encircling them. 

“Well, well, well…” One of his brothers started, “What do we have here?” He stopped as did Kindoron and the other. 

“We are of the Borlaaq tribe and we mean no harm. Let us be and we’ll move out of your way.” One who was throwing away the remnants of her bow away. 

Kindoron laughed loudly, “Ahh they want to be on their way.” He looks at the other two. “I don’t think they get it.” He licked his lips slowly looking at the one that had no bow. She seemed far more fearful than the others and he really really liked that. 

“No they don’t, have you no tribute? No gifts? You should know the Qerel use this for hunting, the Tumet are here around Summer. You want to pass these lands free? That’s cute.” The third sarcastically explains. 

“We have business to deal with...it doesn’t involve Tumet or Qerel.” The same girl speaks, holding herself proud. “Just leave us alone.”

The first brother snorted, “I don’t think so. The way I see it, you die or you become our next playthings.” He shrugs and looks at Kindoron and the other, “Am I right, boys?”

They all laugh in unison until it’s cut off, “Then I choose to die.” Kindoron glared hard at the one who spoke up, the one with no bow. Maybe he was wrong, or maybe he’d break her.

“As if you get to choose!” He snarled. Grabbing a coil of rope from the side of the horse, he’d almost gotten down before all three girls bolted in different directions. Laughing, “Time to pick your choice! Don’t get one then I guess you’re not but a lame yol!” He kicks his horse off after the one who spoke, the one with no bow. The others took off after theirs.

It wasn’t long before he caught up, he had a horse after all. He ran past her, causing her to change direction. Following then running past her again, making her change once more before she realized he was toying with her. She kept running though, he caught up with her, grabbing the back of her robe before jumping on top and tackling her.

She probably couldn’t scream after that, having the wind knocked out of her. He was quick to bind her hands and feet together then check her belt and boots for any knives or other weapons. Finding none he thought that a little strange but shrugged it off. She only struggled enough to test the binds. 

“Foul bastard! Let me go! We’ve done nothing to deserve this. Nhaama spite you!” She growled. 

Throwing her over his shoulder he slapped her rear. “Enough or I’ll gag you too. I couldn’t give a dzo’s shit about any of that.” He went over to his horse who had stopped nearby once it realized it was devoid of any rider. Patting its neck before slinging her over in front of the saddle. 

He then tied a noose around her neck and attached it to the saddle. Grabbing her chin to make her look up into his orange fiery eyes, “You want death? I’ll be kind and you can have but it won’t be fast and painless.” He smirks, “You can fall off the horse any time. You’ll hit the ground first so you won’t break your neck. The rope will go slack because I won’t be stopping for you, and you’ll slowly hang yourself as I ride home. Your choice now.” 

He mockingly patted her cheek before she spat in his face. Seething as he wiped off her saliva he backhanded her and tightened the noose until she began to choke. Sobbing and her bound hands clawing at the rope, he finally loosened it as she started to turn blue. She fell limp but still conscious just out of fight. Still growling he mounted his horse and trotted back to find his brothers.

They all got their marks, laughing and swapping their story on the ordeal, likely stretching it a little. Finally able to go back to the tribe and make their report and being told to mark their new servants they each went to their yurt. 

Kindoron threw her into his home, where she backed away the best she could from him. He grabbed her tail and yanked her back. “What’s wrong? Scared now? Still want death?” He sneered. “I let you have that choice, remember? You didn’t seem that keen on it.” 

She huffed a lot, still trying to gain any distance from him. However, she said nothing, just a few tears.

Rolling his eyes, he wanted a reaction he liked when they were angry, scared, upset. Silence and tears did nothing. He pushed her on her back and stepped on her stomach. Using the fire in the center he picked up a hot metal rod. 

This made her cower, “What are you doing?!” She gasped.

“You’re in servitude to the Tumet tribe. You need to be marked, can’t have you going around thinking you’re part of the tribe.” He smirked. Then getting a hammer nearby he bent down. “Stay still or I might get something important.” He said pressing the rod into her horn.

The smell of smoldering scales filled the air along with her screams, before he brought the hammer down. Drilling into the horn and out the other side. Once done he removed the rod to inspect the hole. Ignoring the sobbing girl then putting a large metal spike in through the hole. Forcing her head to the side so he could hammer the ends to bend making it near impossible to remove easily. Once done he smirked, grabbing her face. 

“There you’re marked. Now everyone knows your place. You’ve no name, Tumets don’t give names to slaves. You are just a slave girl. If you remove that spike in your horn, you die. We’ll know by the hole in your horn. I’m sure it sounds odd but you’ll get used to it.” He explains with indifference.

He takes a knife from his belt and straddles her, removing his foot to sit on her. Then beginning to cut away her clothes which brought about new wails and sobs.

“Cry all you want, it’ll just bring curious eyes. If you want to put on a show I don’t mind.” He snarled. She got quieter but still cried beneath him.

Finally peeling away the top layer of robe he slowly scanned her over. Flat chested but it was fine, he ran a rough thumb over her nipple and watched her writhe in protest. Then starting to peel off the bottom but she squirmed and protested hard.

“Don’t! Please don't! I’ll do whatever you want but just don’t look there!” She looked up with pleading eyes. It didn’t dissuade him at all, 

Laughing he ripped away the clothing, “But this is what I—“ he looked down and instead of the slit of a woman he saw a man’s part. Confused, he blinked a few times, thinking maybe he was seeing things, then getting up he saw not only was this ‘girl’ with a cock, but also balls! He stumbled back in shock.

“What...but...you’re...aren’t...what?!” He tried to figure out what was going on. Taking the knife he held it against her neck. “Who and what are you?! Are you not Borlaaq?” He demanded

Sobbing and scooting away, curling into a ball the...boy shook his head. “I am! But I’m not supposed to be! I just wanted to be with my mother and I never got big and built like other men.” 

Kindoron was too in shock to do anything about him moving from under his knife. “Borlaaq don’t let men in their tribe...that’s impossible.” He said as if he were telling the boy.

“I know! That’s why I disguised myself as a girl. Acted like one...I know I’m a man.” He spat. 

Kindoron felt odd, he’d been attracted and felt...betrayed, teased, lied to. He started getting angry. The man started rattling off his justifications, but it fell on deaf horns. He felt denied his prize that he’d claimed. 

Lounging forward and grabbing her throat, putting crushing force on it. “You want to act and be a woman? Then you’re going to serve me like one.” He snarled.  Getting a rag he made it into a makeshift gag. Putting it in his mouth and making it cruelty tight. Then flipping him onto his stomach.

It was brutal, even for him. Having to spit for lube and even then it ripped. He kept going until he couldn’t. It was strangely satisfying and when the fact was done. Shoving his unwilling participant who might’ve passed out onto the floor of the yurt. Tying his hands to the main pole of the yurt and warning, “ You move too much and it brings this down on our heads. Then I get up and beat you.” He rolled over to sleep.

When he got up, his victim lay still. Weakly lifting his head to see his captor. Getting up slightly and looking very defeated. 

“Good, seems like you get it.” Kindoron untied the binds and then found the cooking gear and food and shoved it at his servant. “Make us breakfast. Now.” He commanded and started getting dressed.

He wordlessly did as much, and then Kindoron left. Fetching some robes, tattered, dull black. Another sign of servitude. He purposely got ones for a girl. Then returning to his yurt and tossing it at the poor boy cooking.

“Your clothes, you still are a woman. You’ll act, like a woman. If anyone asks, you’re a woman. If you at all say you’re a man. I’ll kill you.” He growled. Kindoron was deeply afraid of what judgement his peers might have if they knew he fucked a man. So much so, after breakfast he went to seek out an actual woman. 

He’d given the man some tasks but really he didn’t have anything, he’d truly intended to have him as some fun. He still could though, it wasn’t bad at all, in fact almost just as good. The whole day this plagued his thoughts. Only to return to the yurt and see him. He looked just as pretty, just as soft and small. His tail twitched but he shook his head and sat down. 

The man moved about, making dinner. Every time he bent over Kindoron found himself looking at his backside. “Come here.” He commanded, which the man did without hesitation. It seemed like he was adopting the role very very quickly. 

His features were feminine mostly but there were traces of a man. Before Kindoron knew it, he had pulled the man in his lap. Staring into his face, he felt him shaking in his arms. He had to see.

Kissing him gently on the lips and letting their tongues dance he indeed felt...excited. Just like with a girl, it scared him but...he felt a carnal desire that needed to be filled. This time it was much gentler though still damaging. He even found himself holding onto the man through the night.

It became an odd relationship. He spoke with him like equals only reminding him of his place if he was in a bad mood or he did something to anger him. An abusive one to say the least. To Kindoron it was nothing, someone to talk to, someone to control. He couldn’t possibly love this man, after all, he was a man himself.

Then one day, the man slid his hand to Kindoron’s crotch of his own free will. Kissing him, begging to be taken. It disturbed him, he did though, but because he wanted to. He noticed that slowly he was doing things for his slave. He couldn’t have this, it’d be different if it were a woman but no. His brothers began to prod and joke that he’d be taking her for his mate soon. Something not unheard of or frowned upon...unless they found out she was a man.

He had to be rid of him. 

He had finished putting a heavy blanket under his saddle before fetching his servant from the tent and mounting the horse with him. Riding off, telling him and his tribesmen that he’d be going to the Qestir Markets. 

Once they had rode half a day away he stopped. Getting off his horse and getting the man down, much to his confusion.

“We’re still a half day away from the markets.” He stated. 

“I know. Hold still.” He grabbed a hammer and started tapping away at the spike in his horn. Until it was straight enough to pull out. “There I’m letting you go.” He said simply. 

“What?! But...I…” He seemed distressed. “I actually like you! I don’t want to leave.” He exclaimed.

Kindoron shrugged and gave a small grin. “What can I say? So do I. I can’t keep you as a slave any longer which is why I’m letting you go.” He leans on the horse. “You can walk to the markets and I’ll just say I sold you or something.” 

The man fretted and looked frantically around, “Kindoron please! I...I think I love you!” He threw himself around the taller Xaela’s waist. 

Growling he shoved the man away, “I don’t! I don’t even like you that much. Disgusting, hardly a man. You were just something to pass the time. I’m being kind by not killing you. NOW. GET. AWAY.” He snarled, striking him in the face.

The man stumbled and fell, holding his face and crying. Then slowly got up and with one last longing look began to walk away. “My name is Nekhii!” He shouted, not turning around.

Kindoron snorted, watching him walk. Once he was far enough away he flipped the blanket up and took off the bow and quiver hidden underneath. Nocking an arrow and aiming it at the man’s back, “What an appropriate name, Nekhii.” He said quietly to himself.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Idle Hands Are an Angel’s Plaything by mattzerella_sticks

Three cases - man kills wife. woman steals from where she works. employee kills their boss. They shouldn't have anything in common. Except all three suspects claim they have no memory of committing the crimes they're charged with. Sounds exactly like a case for the Winchesters.

Three days investigating, however, and they're drawing blanks. Nothing adds up in any way that makes these crimes align into a neat box. Dean's ready to call it quits, but humors Sam and Cas by agreeing to interview a few more people. However he soon starts to believe this town has something pertaining to their expertise when he suddenly finds himself its next victim.

Will they manage to defeat the monster without Dean doing something he'll regret? Or will the only way to free himself is to let go of the chains he forced himself into long ago?

For the @supernaturaltropecelebration and their amazing Halloween Challenge!

Kevin grunts in his sleep, trying to wake up from the strangest nightmare. Blinking into consciousness he finds himself in a different position than when he fell asleep. Instead of his eyes adjusting to see his beige ceiling, he stares into the bloodshot stare of his wife Darla. His hands at her throat, grip slack.

“Darla?” he whispers, hands moving to her shoulders. Shaking, he asks again, “Darla?” More panicked, twitching fingers returned to check for his wife’s pulse. A sob crawls from his chest as he realizes nothing beats against his touch.

“No, Darla,” he whispers, rolling off her and collapsing back onto his side of the bed. “How did this happen…”

His hands stay frozen at his sides until he works through his shock and calls the police.

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

The Impala pulls into the diner parking lot, fitting in between a rusted truck and a Prius. Dean sneers at the latter car as he gets out, “Fuckin’ douche mobiles…”

“Dean,” Sam sighs from the other side, “focus.”

“Why? We have jack shit anyway.”

“There’s got to be something tying these crimes together!”

“Yeah, humanity ,” he scoffs, leaning against his Baby’s hood, “Listen, I’m not sure if there's anything happening here that falls under ourjurisdiction, okay?”

Sam rolls his eyes, dialing up the softness in his features. Resembling more labradoodle than man, he asks, “Can we go over it all one last time?”

Dean tries to resist, but he succumbs to his brother’s masterful manipulation. “Fine. But let’s at least grab a booth before it gets too crowded, okay?”

Nodding, Sam moves away from the car and over to the diner. Dean turns to Castiel, the angel perched on the hood as well. A silent observer to their bickering. “You think there’s any foundation under the house Sam’s building?”

Head skewed to the side, Castiel squints at him. “While these events are muddled and pedestrian… you two have had less to go off of.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, tapping Baby’s roof twice, “we have.” He pushes himself off, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. “Come on, otherwise Sam’ll order us all salads.”

“I’d like some fries.”

“Well you can order your damned fries when we get inside.”

They walk together, barely an inch of space between them. Castiel’s arm brushes against his with each step, each time making the blush burning his neck to grow hotter. He could move away, but Dean chooses to stay on his path. Reasoning that Castiel should be the one to do so, finally learn about the personal space bubble he frequently bursts. Eleven years, countless battles, and all of pop culture downloaded into his mind in the span of a second and Dean still has to tell him how if he can feel his breath when he talks Castiel isn’t far enough away.

Sam arches an unimpressed brow when they enter, handing them their menus. “Took you long enough?”

“Bite me, Sammy.”

“I’d rather the food. Less calories.”

Dean exaggerates a frown, Sam copying him. Castiel elbows him in the side, glancing between the two. With a sigh he drops the argument, burying his head into the menu. Keeping silent when his brother and angel carry on the conversation. Only surfacing when the waitress swings by asking for their order.

As expected Sam orders a salad, while Dean opts for a BLT and Castiel asks for his fries. Once the waitress is out of earshot, Sam looks to him. “So,” he starts, “can we go over the case now ?”

Tamping down his comments, Dean nods wordlessly. He fiddles with one of the napkins, bending and crumpling the edges before smoothing them. The urge to tear them up spikes, but Dean ignores it. Not in the mood for one of Sam’s lectures about wasting napkins.

“Now the reason we came here over going home was because of the first incident, where a woman was arrested for murdering her co-worker. Although from how she told it to the press, it wasn’t her.”

“Except,” Dean cuts in, “while Cas and I interviewed her, you checked the footage and didn’t see her eyes flash.” What Sam saw, and related to them, was how Kristie twisted the oxygen valve in the storage shed enough that its contents would hiss open. So when her boss, Mark, went for a quick smoke break, the tossed match would ignite the canister and obliterate the shed, everything and every one in it.

“And from our conversation,” Castiel adds, “she didn’t seem too regretful of her co-worker’s death.”

Kristie confided that bad blood existed between her and Mark. That he offered to help her with her diving suit near constantly, made suggestive comments and harassed her often for a date. “I mean why should I be blamed?” Kristie asked, “He was the idiot who kept smoking near oxygen tanks even when Larry told him again and again to find somewhere else to take his breaks! All I was doing was counting our inventory… sometimes I’m just on autopilot, y’know, it’s so boring… anyone could have made that mistake!”

“But then there were the others,” Sam continues, swiping around on his tablet. He shows the articles he pulled. “Banker who transferred over a hundred thousand into her own account and the man who strangled his wife in their bed.”

“Doesn’t mean there’s a shifter though.”

“Three instances where people claim they have no memory of committing a crime?” Sam scoffs, “Might not be a shifter but it’s something .”

“What else could it be, Sam?” Dean rolls his eyes, “Cursed object? All three of the perps didn’t mention buying or finding anything strange, and I doubt one of those could travel so far in a few days. Especially since none of them travelled in the same circles. Witches? There’s no pattern - usually it’s either murder or theft, they don’t do both!”

“So maybe we need to work harder,” Sam growls, slapping Dean’s hands, “and quit it! I thought I told you how much I hate when you do that.”

Dean frowns, following Sam’s gaze to see the sprinkling of napkin shreds all around him. He drops the rest of it, whipping wide eyes up at his brother. “Sorry,” he says, “must have lost focus or something…”

Sam sucks in a sharp breath, judging him silently through his pointed expression. Feeling guilty, Dean ducks his hands under the table.

“As I was saying,” Sam says, “There’s probably something we’re missing… or we’re not considering. Usually we’ve at least spoken to a witness or a family friend at this point, but with how every day there seems to be a new crime we hadn’t had the chance to.”

Dean snorts, “They should really change their town motto. Most exciting hamlet on the bay…”

“I agree with Sam,” Castiel says, “we’ve learned nothing from simply combing through crime scenes or questioning the suspects.”

“At least we’re all on the same page about that,” Dean hums, eyeing the waitress as she sways closer with their food. “Case talk over with, now’s time to eat!”

The waitress arrives as Sam readies an objection. Unable to raise a protest, Sam swallows back his words to make room for his salad. She hands each boy their order, taking extra care when giving Castiel his. “Now would you like anything else?” she asks them, eyes trained on his angel.

Castiel smiles at her. “No thank you, we’re good.”

“Are you sure?”

A tornado whips up in his stomach, upending the trailers of his emotions settled there. His jaw tenses, fingers flexing as he watches her flick her ponytail to the side. A voice whispers for him to trail fingers through Castiel’s hair and repeat what his angel said, to glare at her until she walks away.

He doesn’t do any of that; instead hissing a breath out his nose and digging into his sandwich.

She leaves soon enough, with a promise to return at a moment’s notice. Dean sulks into his burger, cheeks puffed up as he eats.

The others at the table discuss their plan while they eat, every few beats looking to Dean for his input. With his mouth almost always stuffed Dean didn’t talk. Each time Sam found him with gnashing teeth and crumbled foodstuff his lips curled ever downwards. Castiel seemed confused at Dean’s sudden mood shift, unknowing to what caused him to withdraw.

Unfortunately the sandwich, as large as it was, couldn’t last forever. And his voracious appetite meant he finishes far faster than everyone else. Sam still has half his leaves on his plate, speaking more than he ate, while Castiel picked at his fries.

Now without any sort of shield, his brother expects him to participate. Dean nods and answers when needed, but completely checks out of the conversation.

It’s not like him to do so on a hunt. However it’s their third straight one after a salt n’ burn and a harrowing ghoul hunt. Where Dean was almost intimately familiar with what a spike tasted like, if Castiel hadn’t burst in at the eleventh hour. White shirt sticky with sweat and stained with dirt, hair damp against his forehead. Apparently the ghoul tricked his angel, smothering him under six feet of dirt at a play to take him off the field.

“I dug myself free and came straight here,” Castiel explained as he untied Dean, “I couldn’t waste a second, especially on something as mundane as appearances.”

At least, that’s what Dean thought he said. His mind was too focused on the image of Castiel kneeling in front of him, chest heaving and glistening, fingers dancing around the rope. He only started paying attention when Sam rushed in, gun aimed at thin air.

“Nice of you to show up,” Dean barked, shoving the rope off of him and stepping away from Castiel with a blush, “What were you doing? Thinking about what you could turn my room into when you became an only child?”

Neither Sam nor Castiel laughed. Which made for a very awkward ride back to the motel. The atmosphere so stifling between them Dean escaped to the bathroom. Washing away the ghoul stink and rubbing one to the earlier scene. Imagining if Sam hadn’t burst in.

As good as it felt he regrets it only because it gave the others space to find another hunt and overrule his whining.

“Dean?”

He surfaces from his memories and into the present, blinking at Castiel. “Yeah?”

“Is everything okay?”

Dean studies the furrowed brow on his angel’s face. Mirroring the expression, he asks, “Why shouldn’t it be?”

Castiel’s frown deepens, and his head skews to the side again. “Because your hand has been on my knee for quite some time.”

Blanching, Dean whips his gaze to where Castiel claimed his hand rested. Like he said, it lays on Castiel’s knee in a picture of innocent affection. He flicks his eyes up to Castiel, and then to Sam. His brother watches with amused interest.

“Of course my hand’s there,” Dean says, thinking quick, “I - uh… I’ve been trying to get you to scoot over so I can go to the bathroom.”

Face smoothing immediately, Castiel sighs. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Because,” he jerks a thumb at Sam, “didn’t want to interrupt this one while he was on a roll.” With Sam’s bitchface in the background Castiel moves so Dean can stand. He winks with fake mirth, “Won’t be long.” Then Dean speeds away to the bathroom, hands buried in his pockets and face stoic.

The diner’s bathrooms are single occupants, and Dean finds both the men’s and gender neutral bathroom locked. Sighing, he sags against a nearby wall and plays with his phone. Trying not to focus on the feel of Castiel’s knee in his hand.

Why it was there Dean couldn’t answer, nor did he need an answer. Otherwise Dean will have to confront a host of problems he isn’t in the mood to face. Not wanting to think about it any longer, he chalks it up to exhaustion. Dean then distracts himself by pulling up a game, hoping with each row of Tetris he clears he can believe his excuse.

While deciding where to shove a T-piece, Dean overhears a nearby conversation.

“Can you believe how sad Tony sounds in this caption?”

“I know, but can you blame him? Broken up like that…”

Dean pauses his game, interest piqued. Shuffling to the side, he spies their waitress conversing with another girl at the last booth. Taking a break from working, she chats with her friend with no fear of being found by her boss.

“Who would’ve guessed Felicia was faking it all this time…” her friend says, taking her phone back. “Like did you hear from Jessica?”

“No, why? What does she know?”

“From what she told me - and this is from what Bea told her - that they were having this sleepover. Bea woke up to Felicia spooning her, and her hands were… y’know .”

“ No! ”

“Which, you’d think Bea would’ve woken up screaming!”

“I know I would’ve,” their waitress says, “y’know Creepy Josh tried something like that with me during a party the other night? Lucky I wasn’t too wasted to stab my key into his hand.”

“So that’s why he wore that bandage throughout the show,” her friend says, “I thought it was a character choice.”

“No, that dildo has no character.”

“Anyway, Bea was super into Felicia’s touch. Has had the hots for her for awhile, apparently. Her own best friend .”

“And Felicia felt the same?”

“Apparently…” her friend glances behind, Dean watching as she extends her neck as far as it can go. Whipping around, she smirks, “Speaking of hands and feeling up … who are those two snacks in your section.”

Dean tracks where she looks, shuddering as logic points to only one table - his . “I know,” their waitress gushes, “you don’t see faces like those in this crummy town.”

Her friend nods. “When I walked in I nearly dropped to the floor at the sight of the guy with the long hair.”

“Sure he’s nice,” their waitress says, “but did you not see the daddy in the trench coat?”

“Really? A trench coat?”

“What! He makes it work,” she defends Castiel’s fashion, “Besides, he has this air about him like… he could take real good care of me…”

Rolling her eyes, her friend grabs for her soda. “I doubt he’s gonna be the sugar daddy of your dreams, Monica.”

Monica sighs. “A girl can dream can’t she…”

Dean glares at her from his hiding spot. A girl cannot dream, he thinks, especially if that’s what her dreams are about. His grip tightens on his phone, the plastic digging into his skin. The bathroom door opens and startles him from his spiraling.

Faced with an empty bathroom, Dean remembers what he came to do. He shakes off the annoyance and hurries into it, going through the motions as he calms his racing heart. Stands in front of the mirror as he repeats to himself, “It’s stupid… don’t let it bother you.”

The voice from earlier returns, whispering again. “It’s not stupid… allow yourself to feel…”

His hands squeeze the porcelain sink as Dean wonders why his inner voice decided to take on a grating southern twang.

“Dean?” Castiel knocks on the door, “Dean? Are you in here?”

Broken from the spell, he turns to the door. He opens it, his angel on the other side. “Yeah?”

“You were gone for a long time,” Castiel says, “Sam’s paying… we’re heading out.” Castiel’s hand twitches at his side, reaching out to him. “Are you okay -?”

“Peachy, Cas,” he says, stepping around the concerned touch, “Police station coffee just hitting s’all… let’s hurry and clear this mess up so we’re not stuck here another night.”

Castiel nods, guiding Dean from the bathrooms and towards the exit where Sam waits. On their way there they pass Monica, cleaning their table. She leers at Castiel, obviously raking her gaze over him.

Impulsively Dean presses his hand against Castiel’s lower back and pushes him forward. “Pick up the pace,” he says loudly, “can’t keep Sam waiting, angel.” Ignoring Castiel’s look of confusion, Dean focuses instead on the bewildered expression Monica creates. Holds his head up a little higher.

“Isn’t that… better…”

“Isn’t what better, Cas?”

“I… I didn’t say anything, Dean,” his mouth thins worryingly, “are you sure you’re okay?”

Unconvincingly Dean mutters, “Like I said, Cas… damned peachy .”

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

Dean loses his footing almost immediately after climbing onto the fishing boat. He stumbles forward, nearly falling on his face. If it weren’t for Castiel’s firm hold on his arm he would have known what poopdeck tastes like.

“Rough waters today,” Jim, the captain, tells them, “if you ain’t got your sea legs than you won’t stand much of a chance, son…”

“I’ll manage…” Dean huffs, flattening his suit jacket with nervous hands. He glances at Castiel, pouting at how unruffled he seems by the waves. “How are you not affected?”

Castiel smirks, “Angel grace is a good substitute for ‘ sea legs ’.”

“Whatever,” he says, “you can let go now.”

The fingers around his bicep tighten, a rush of pleasure shooting up his spine. “I think it would be best if I help steady you.”

Blushing, Dean snaps his mouth shut with a click. He looks to the waiting captain, pinched dimples on full display. “So, about your crew member, Kevin Johannsen?”

“Johannsen was a real good fisherman,” Jim starts, leading them towards a pile of nets. Jim picks one up and begins folding as he talks. “Had this uncanny ability to guess wherever the most fish were in an open sea. One day he pointed to a patch and said ‘cast there’ and we nearly capsized from the amount of fish we hauled in! It’s a real shame to hear what happened…”

“Yes, well, that’s why we’re here,” Dean says, “We just wanted to see if Kevin had been acting strange in the last couple of days.”

“Strange?” Jim asks, “What do you mean strange?”

“Exhibiting unusual behavior,” Castiel clarifies, stepping closer. “Doing or saying anything that might have seemed out of the ordinary… maybe he found something while fishing that he kept for himself?”

“No,” Jim answers, “no, can’t say that he has. Any garbage we dredge up gets tossed back into the sea where we found it… and as for Kevin himself he was as normal as he always was. Cursing out the Patriots, drinking the same amount of beers he always did, telling the same jokes …”

Dean arches a brow, the word like a dangling string he felt drawn to pull. “Jokes? Kevin was a regular comedian?”

“Well, he weren’t a Jerry Seinfeld or a Sam Kinison, but he knew how to make us all chuckle every now and then,” Jim says, turning to his crew, “isn’t that right boys?”

There’s muddled agreement. One man, made burlier by his fleece-lined denim jacket, gives them more information. “Kevin liked repeating what he saw on TV, stole a joke or two from Family Guy. Liked doing that Borat thing…”

“Borat thing?” Castiel asks.

Dean rolls his eyes, “It’s this actor… ‘My wife’?”

“Yeah,” the man says, “he liked that one a lot.”

“Although,” another crewman speaks up, “he sounded more and more like the Honeymooners in the past few months.”

Dean latches onto that, hackles raised. He explores it further, hoping the dark rock sinking in his gut was right. “Kevin having problems at home?”

“Not anymore than the average guy,” Jim shrugs, “Complained about Darla more than ever, though…”

“How so?”

The burly man explains how Kevin found his marriage growing stale, and had taken to flirting with one of the girls who sold their fish. “Kept saying how he wished he didn’t marry Darla right out of high school, had more time to sow his seeds,” he tells them, “That if he could he would get rid of Darla and immediately go after Michelle. Pretended to call up hitmen or asked questions about how fast a person could sink to the bottom of the ocean…”

“And,” Dean rubs at his forehead, pressing against the growing headache, “you were all surprised to hear that this guy murdered his wife?”

Jim scowls. “He wasn’t like any of those disturbed people you see on the news. Kevin was normal, like one of us. It was just jokes between boys.”

“Jokes that led to a woman’s death,” Castiel growls, barely containing the venomous glow dripping from his glare.

“Hey!” Jim objects, “We didn’t tell Kevin to do what he did -”

“No, but you allowed him an open forum to discuss it,” Castiel says, “treated his very obvious threats as silly make believe. In what way could joking about murder be acceptable in any work space? You should have fired him and, at the very least, alerted Darla to what her husband was saying.”

“Why would we have done that?” Jim asks, “We all thought it would blow over. He wasn’t the first man to wish he wasn’t married, we’ve all been in that position once or twice.”

“Yet Kevin was the only one who took extreme measures,” he challenges, “If I were you I would think long and hard about the learned behaviors of how women are treated, especially how easily violence towards them is overlooked.”

Each member of the crew wore a mixture of shame and anger, all directed at Castiel.

Sensing the turn of the interview, Dean lays a hand against Castiel’s chest and pushes him backwards. “I think this is where we’ll take our leave,” he chuckles, “thanks for your time.”

Ignoring his angel’s protests Dean hurries them off the boat, waiting until they’re far enough away on the docks to talk.

“I can’t believe those men,” Castiel huffs, “treating those threats as something harmless like a joke -”

“Hate to break it to you Cas,” Dean says, “but that’s all men.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to accept it. Why did you make us run away like that?”

“Because as much as I hate what they said,” he sighs, “I know when to pick my battles.”

“No you don’t.”

“Fine, I know how to pick your battles.”

“They wouldn’t have been able to hurt me,” Castiel tells him, “But I could have taught them a lesson or two…”

The hand still glued to his arm clenches tighter, Dean wincing in pain. Underneath that, though, a current of heat stings his lower body. His dick stiffens and rises somewhat in his pants, adding to the already intense blush coloring his cheeks.

Noticing Dean’s pained expression Castiel cools his anger and releases him. “Sorry,” he says, “I… I forgot my hand was there.”

“S’okay, Cas,” Dean chuckles, “Next time take your frustrations out by writing your local representative…”

“Do we have one? I thought since we don’t vote…”

“...Never mind, Cas. Let’s just go call Sammy and tell him it was a bust.”

They shuffle over to the Impala, at a distance uncommon to their friendship. Dean wants to reach over and calm his angel, express further how unsettled he was by the others’ callous remarks. Remind Castiel that even in all the whirling madness there are a few voices of sanity trying to help others listen to reason. Only some people prefer having their ears stuffed up, comfortable with the silence. And most don’t want to rock the boat and mess up what already works.

Like Dean. Because as much as he wants to hold his angel all he uses his hand for is to open Baby’s door, start the engine, and call his brother.

He picks up on the third ring. “I was just about to call you.”

“You find anything?”

“No,” Sam sighs, “I think you might be right about this one…”

Dean tempers his grin, only allowing a tiny fraction of it show. “What makes you think that?” he asks.

Sam explains what he managed to uncover while snooping around the bank. How Linda was on the fast track to unemployment, her boss showing him the letter of termination they planned. Her co-worker Sandy told Sam how Linda complained about having issues with money. “Apparently she was buried deep in debt after some serious online gambling,” he says, “So we have a motive.”

He reigns in the ‘I told you so’, instead saying, “Same here. Ol’ Kev talked pretty heavily about not wanting his wife around anymore…”

A surge of warmth rocks over him from the thought of wrapping up the case quickly. While it’s an odd feeling to have when discussing murder, making him sound so flippant, he doesn’t care. Picturing his bed in the Bunker gives him tingles, especially when his imagination adds the perfect cherry by placing Castiel atop of his covers.

In the fantasy Dean drops his bags and glides in, kneeling at his bedside. Gently caresses Castiel’s face, the feel of his stubbles so real under his fingertips. As if the welcome relief of a case closed hit him now, while they tie up their loose ends. His angel would then flutter his lashes and whisper.

“...Dean?”

He bites his lip, “In a second, Cas - I’m on the phone.” Adjusting himself in his seat, Dean focuses on the conversation with his brother. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“That I’ll meet you at the motel and we can hit the road as soon as you want -”

“ Dean !”

“ What ?”

He whips around to face Castiel, a hush heavying his tongue. Instead of firing the command Dean chokes on it while taking in the scene.

Castiel stares with wide eyes, Dean’s hand softly cupping his chin. Thumb brushing the cleft, visible beneath the stubble, and his fingers press against his firm jaw. His angel’s plush lips part slightly, as if too stunned to attempt another sound. Dean mimics him, as he cannot understand how his hand got there nor why he hasn’t pulled away.

Sam’s on the other end, asking for Dean again. Wondering what’s happening. A yell, louder than all the rest, cuts through the static playing in Dean’s mind. He jumps, hand flying from Castiel’s face like it burned.

“Seriously, Dean,” Sam huffs, “what the hell is going on over there?”

He wonders the same thing. Suddenly Dean remembers how his hand found itself onto Castiel’s knee in the diner, and the way he pressed it possessively against Castiel’s back. Then the suspects’ testimonies filter their way in as well, all boiling to the same point.

Dean rubs his hand across his forehead, dimples flashing at him from the rearview mirror. “Looks like the road’s gonna have to wait another day, Sam.”

“Dean? What do you mean?”

“Turns out this case is exactly in our wheelhouse.” He ends the call, promising to explain more when they meet at the motel. Signing off, Dean drops his phone onto his lap and tightens his grip on the wheel. Dean speaks to the windshield, not trusting himself to look at his angel. “You good?”

“I am fine,” Castiel starts, concern bleeding through his gruff voice, “But are you…?”

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Dean rushes out, neck hot.

“Funny. You sound exactly like everyone else we’ve come across.” He doesn’t need to see to know Castiel arches his brow while he talks, the sass translating perfectly.

Dean rolls his eyes. “I’m not lying. I… it was like my hand had a mind of its own.”

“I believe you.”

“Because I wouldn’t do that,” his mouth won’t shut up, “unless you wanted me to, it’s kinda creepy and -”

“Dean,” Castiel cuts him off, hand laid across his thigh, “it’s okay.”

Throat dry, he roughly swallows against the heart that jumped up there. Faced with either addressing the problem or ignoring it, Dean relies on where he has the most experience. He shifts into drive and speeds away from the docks. Silent the entire ride to the motel.

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

Sam shifts his gaze between the two, expression wrinkled with suspicion. He glowers at them, hunched over on the chair. “Explain to me again why you changed your mind on this?”

Dean glances at Castiel briefly, his angel sitting next to him on the bed. “I just,” he starts, wringing his hands, “I think that we might have missed something important.”

“Which is…?”

He huffs, physically withdrawing from the conversation so he can think.

Even with how fast Dean drove, Sam beat them to the motel. Waiting for them with twisted brows. Hoping they could shed some light on the stilted and urgent ending to the earlier conversation. Unfortunately Dean could only give half-formed answers, bathed in vagueness. He relied on trust to get Sam to accept the bull he force-fed him.

Sam knocked away every spoon.

“Dean?”

“Dean seems to be suffering under the effects of possession.”

He glares at his angel, lips trembling. Castiel returns a softer gaze, smiling with his eyes. “All of those arrested admitted to not remembering what they did, yet each had motives for doing what was done,” Castiel says, “Either they were filmed committing these actions or had their fingerprints found at the scene of the crime… we believe it must be a ghost forcing people to act on impulses or desires they usually ignore. And Dean is the ghost’s next victim.”

“Really?” Sam says, turning to Dean, “Is that true?”

Dean’s head bobs side to side before sighing. “Yeah, discussed it in the car,” he lies.

“So you’re possessed?”

“Looks like it.”

“What’d the ghost make you do?”

“What?”

Sam crosses his arms, straightening to a more imposing level. “You’d have to have done something you wouldn’t have done. Acted on an impulse… what was it?”

Once more he skirts the truth with his brother. Grinning wide enough his teeth nearly jump out of his mouth, Dean says, “Saw something really sexy down by the docks and started rubbing my junk like no tomorrow… almost got caught for public indecency.”

It’s a gamble that works in his favor. Sam’s nose scrunches in disgust and he cries, “Gross, Dean. God!”

“Hey you wanted to know!”

“Ugh,” Sam stands, spinning on his heel, “Whatever. Go wash your hands, pervert. Then you’re gonna help me and Cas with research.”

Dean nods, pushing off the bed. He looks to Castiel and mouths a quick thanks. His angel winks in return, sending Dean off to the bathroom to wash his hands and will away the blush staining his cheeks.

When he comes back Sam won’t look him in the eye and Castiel moved further up the bed, scrolling through his phone. Dean digs around for his laptop and sits by his angel’s feet. Close enough to not raise Sam’s suspicions but far from any temptation his hands might succumb to.

A healthy dose of fear bubbles inside at the image of his hand creeping, without his knowledge, over to Castiel to play with his feet. He shudders and shifts so his legs dangle off the side, face turned even further away. It doesn’t stop him from being very aware of his hands. Jumping with each twitch and worrying whether it was him or the ghost that wanted him to click a link or scratch an itch.

He wasn’t much help in terms of research.

In the third hour of Dean staring more at his hands than his laptop, Sam cries from nearby, “I think I got something!”

Dean breathes a sigh of relief. “What is it?”

Sam beckons them closer, “So get this…” He waits until Dean and Castiel are hovering behind before continuing. “Apparently the town was the home base for this motivational speaker in the 80’s. Really weird guy by the name of Benjamin Moreley.”

“A motivational speaker?” Castiel asks, “What’s that?”

“They get paid through the nose to shout a few words and come up with catchphrases,” Dean tells him, “All in an effort to get people to ‘ change ’. It’s a real racket, especially these days.”

“And back then, too,” Sam says, “over the years Moreley’s messages became some kind of movement, real cult-like. Anyway… listen to this clip from one of his speeches and see if it strikes a nerve.”

Sam unmutes the video, starting it from a minute in. He hits play, allowing Moreley to live again. Benjamin walks across a makeshift stage, soaking up the applause. Dean uses those few seconds to scan and judge the conman. Takes in the ruddy face, sweating profusely under the heavy lights. A hankey with a rich, purple color held tight in his fist, matching his shirt. His suit was white and stained in certain areas. The crowd watching him didn’t find Moreley as pathetic as Dean does, fawning over him loudly.

“Because it is when we take hold of what we want,” Moreley says, southern twang grating but unfortunately familiar, “fight against all the brainwashing society has forced upon us, to fit into their perfect little boxes, that we can truly be happy. The Id is our most basic part of ourselves - fundamental to our needs and desires. Why should we ignore it when doing so makes us miserable. We should be waking up every day with a goal of making each day better for yourself than the last. Looking at every opportunity, asking ourselves ‘does this make me happy’? And if it does, great… go for it. If the answer’s ‘no’... then don’t do it! Somebody else will!”

“Wow,” Dean snorts, “guy sounds like a grade-A douche…”

The laptop snaps shut without warning, Dean’s hand flat against it.

“Dean, what the -?” “I didn’t do that,” Dean says, “I didn’t mean to…”

Castiel huffs, “I guess this answers our question.”

Dean draws his hand to his chest, rubbing it. He frowns, “How’d the bastard die?”

“In all his speeches about giving into your impulses,” Sam says, “he forgot to mention the consequences. He was sued by a few followers for the expected - lost jobs and spouses leaving. Moreley’s defense was that they were happy in the moment, and that’s all that mattered. Halfway through the trial, though, his wife burst in with a gun and shot him while he was testifying.”

He whistles, “Damn…”

“Apparently Moreley was giving into his own temptations,” Sam shrugs, “sleeping with a few of his followers. When his wife found out she decided to lean into his teachings. Took her revenge then swiftly shot herself, too. It was all detailed in this comprehensive article they wrote following the case, even had copies of the wife’s suicide note.”

“If Benjamin Moreley’s ghost is haunting people,” Castiel asks, “where is his body buried?”

“Close by.” Sam re-opens his laptop, scrolling towards the end of the article. “In this huge mausoleum at the center of the Joseph M. Whorly Cemetery. It’s an hour outside of town.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Dean asks, “Let’s get a move on!”

“Dean…”

He bites his lip at his brother’s tone, not caring for it one bit. “Sam,” Dean sighs, “come on -”

“You shouldn’t be going,” Sam rushes, “if you’re possessed then you’re a liability.”

“I’m not gonna let a damned ghost stop me from doing my job!”

“We all saw what happened, Dean!” Sam drags a hand across his face, wiping away the aggravation. “Listen, what if it were me who was possessed? Would you want me coming along on this hunt, doing whatever the ghost is doing to you?”

His mind runs away with the prompt, painting a scene that makes Dean’s blood boil. Sam’s hands on Castiel’s knee, caressing Castiel’s face. Fingers that weren’t his carding through his angel’s hair or tiptoeing down his chest. Finally catching up to his thoughts Dean sneaks a peek at his hand to find it drifting towards Castiel.

Dean shoves it into his pocket, face hot with embarrassment. “I’d want you far away,” he mutters, “so, so far away.”

Sam arches a brow, worried by this display. Dean prepares for his brother to ask another question, saved only by Castiel clearing his throat.

“As much as I agree not having Dean on this hunt,” he starts, “what if the ghost hurts Dean in our absence. Who knows how much his power has grown since the first attack, he could seriously hurt himself.”

“Yeah,” Dean nods, “what do we do about that?” Dean isn’t worried the ghost will hurt him, confident in his own control against the wannabe Manson. But he doesn’t want to sit on the bench for the rest of the case.

Sam thinks for a moment, grin unfurling when he finds an idea. Dean’s skin crawls at the gleam lighting up his brother’s eyes.

“I think I have the perfect solution…”

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

“Stupid motivational speaker ghost,” Dean mumbles, knocking his head against the motel divider for the umpteenth time, “why’d you have to latch onto me? Wasn’t there some other unlucky sucker you could’ve found?” His arms sag overhead, wrists pulling against the silver cuffs as far as they can give.

Sam’s solution was simple and made the most sense. Dean still complained the entire time.

“Listen if this all works as planned, we'll be freeing you in no time,” Sam said. After testing the cuffs above Dean’s head, making sure they wouldn’t break the divider, he hid the key. Ignorant to Dean’s protests all the while.

“You better hope so,” Dean huffed, “If this isn’t the right ghost then I think the next impulse I’ll have is shaving your head while you sleep!”

Sam hitched the bag over his shoulder, looking to Castiel. “Ready to go?”

Castiel, who stood at the wayside watching Dean’s imprisonment, finally tore his gaze away from Dean. “Yes.” They left without glancing behind, especially when Dean whined about how his nose itched.

A quarter of an hour later, Dean only had himself for company and his nose continued to irritate him. He shifts, ass numb from the awkward angle he was stuck in. “Couldn’t they have left me with a pillow to sit on or something…?”

Suddenly the sound of the doorknob turning cuts across the room. Dean whirls around to face it, confused as to who it could be. Sam and Castiel should still be driving to the cemetery. If it was housekeeping, which Dean hoped weren’t the case, then Dean better have a good excuse to use.

Luckily Castiel is on the other side of it.

Dean relaxes slightly. “Cas,” he says, “What’re you doing here?”

“Well, Sam and I were a couple of blocks away from the motel when I realized this wouldn’t be the most preventative measure,” Castiel explains, shutting the door behind him, “The ghost could use its strength to break the chain, or worse, your bones in such a way to slip your hands free and hurt you. So I suggested one of us staying here, with you, while the other goes to the cemetery. Since it’s a mausoleum we won’t need to dig… Sam agreed.”

“And he let you take babysitting point?”

Castiel shrugged, smiling. “If the ghost does have abnormal strength, then at least I will be able to match it.” He carries a nearby chair over to face Dean, sitting on it. “As we all know, I’m very powerful in my own right.”

The wink sets off a chain reaction. Reminds Dean of the earlier display on the docks, and the effect it caused within him. His dick stiffens again as he pictures Castiel pinning his wrists in one hand and using the other to squeeze his crotch. Dean’s hands spasm against their chain, twitching for freedom and Castiel.

Things became much more complicated than they were when Dean was alone.

Dean lapses into silence, trying to regain control over his hands. The longer Castiel stares at him, unblinking, the less his hands listen to him. Castiel’s presence produces a hypnotic orbit, where every time Dean thinks he’s free his eyes get sucked in again.

Suddenly Castiel leans forward, elbows perched on his knees. “Y’know, I rather prefer you like this.”

He wets his lips, voice raspy. “Like what?” Dean asks.

“Cuffed,” he says, foot tapping rhythmically, “can’t run away… can’t distract… cannot hide, like you usually do whenever a situation becomes too… intimate .” His hands slowly slide down his thighs and rest on his knees, Dean tracking the movement. “If I wanted to I could ask you a question - any question - and you’d have to answer it, wouldn’t you?”

Dean neither confirms nor denies.

“You are patient, though. Could probably wait out the awkwardness until Sam returns…” Castiel chuckles, “Funny, how of the three of us only youwere possessed. Like the ghost knew you had these... hidden desires. Do you have them, Dean? Would you like to touch me?”

He spasms, weak enough that a groan eaks past his lips.

Castiel grins, gaze darkening. “Your hand on my knee… on my back… my chest… as brief as they were, they all felt rather… nice .”

Startled, Dean’s jaw drops at the admission.

His angel carries on, straightening against the chair. “I could’ve asked you to keep them there, told you it was okay. Except you wouldn’t have responded well at all. You’d panic and then make a joke, act as if your affectionate gestures were anything but - especially in front of Sam. Keep up appearances… you can’t do that now, can you? The ghost has removed all pretense - for your hands at least. Your mouth, however, can still deny. But do you want to? Is it worth denying any longer?”

Dean struggles to laugh away Castiel’s suggestion. Except with the intensity of his angel’s stare and the heavy words he spoke, Dean finds little will to carry on the charade. Unburdening himself from his doubts and fears, he shrugs, “I guess it isn’t. It’s… tiring.”

“Would you like to touch me?”

“... Absolutely .”

He attempts to reach for him, only can’t get far with the cuffs still on. Castiel sighs, clucking his tongue at Dean.

“You can’t do that right now, unfortunately,” he says, stretching his leg until his foot is pressed against Dean’s crotch, “But there are other… pointsof contact .” Castiel steps down on Dean’s crotch, lightning flashing behind his eyes as Dean’s legs spasm. The rattling of the chains against the divider gets drowned out by heavy breathing.

Dean bucks against Castiel’s foot. “More!”

“In due time,” Castiel tells him, dragging his foot away, “We’ve been through so much, though… so many years of pining behind closed doors… why should we blow it all in fifteen minutes?” He drops to the floor on his knees, kicking the chair away. Crawling until barely an inch of space exists between their faces.

Castiel’s breath ghosts against his lips. Dean tips his head to capture them, only for Castiel’s thumb to dig into his chin. “No,” he whispers, “not yet. Only when I say so, understand?” When Dean doesn’t respond Castiel pinches a nipple. “Understand?”

“Yes!” he yelps, blood rushing to his dick.

“Good.”

Pulling away from his face and chest, Castiel rests on his haunches as his hands trace the seams of his jeans. “This must not be comfortable for you, can it?” he asks, smirking, “I can take it off if you desire?”

Dean nods, not trusting his voice. Except Castiel pinches him again, on his thigh. “Please,” he pants, “Please, Cas.”

“It is no problem…” He unties his boots, pulling them off to spend more time removing his socks. Peeling each one off slowly, scraping his blunt nail up the soles of his feet as the black fabric comes off. Once more his legs jump and dance uncontrollably. “Ticklish,” Castiel notes, “I’ll remember that…” Moving on Castiel drifts up to the belt, playing with the buckle. He unbuckles and re-buckles the accessory so many times Dean feels lightheaded from the bloodloss. Satisfied, finally, Castiel whips the belt off and snaps it. “Later,” he promises, setting it off to the side.

His fingers deftly unbutton his jeans, tugging them and his boxers away until Castiel exposes his ass and legs to the motel carpeting. Folding his jeans allows Dean the chance to gasp in as much air as he can before Castiel shoves him under again. He glances at his bare legs and exposed crotch, notices how his heavy dick rests in the middle of his bramble-like pubes. With only his shirt on Dean resembles Winnie the Pooh, and his knees scoot closer as if to shield himself.

Castiel guides them to where they were, frowning. “Why are you trying to hide again, Dean?”

He bites his lip, blushing. “Cause I look -”

“Amazing.”

“What?”

Castiel places his hands on Dean’s thighs and splays his bowlegs while dipping close to Dean’s face again. “You look amazing,” he places a kiss to Dean’s chin, “gorgeous,” another to his cheek, “awe-inspiring, lovely,” two to his eyelids, “miraculous,” pecks his nose, “and sexy .” Finally Castiel embraces Dean’s lips, tongue immediately poking past them for a taste.

Dean’s wrists burn from how the cuffs cut into them, keeping him from tugging Castiel’s hair or squeezing his biceps. His angel enjoys Dean’s struggle, though, breaking the kiss to laugh.

“This isn’t your time to touch,” Castiel says, “When it is, I will let you know. Until then… allow me to explore .”

They must have different understandings of what the word ‘explore’ means. Because to Dean it feels like torture . Unable to participate, passively watch Castiel comb over every piece of his body. Moan while Castiel nibbles his ear and tugs at his hair. Vision dizzying while Castiel twists his nipples and laves at his navel. His cock, stiff like a frozen popsicle, leaks precum without being touched at all. Castiel circles it: scratching his thighs, squeezing his balls, and breathing on its tip. All Dean can do is jerk forward, except he never makes contact. His angel tips backwards every time.

“Nuh-uh,” he shakes his head, “good little hunters are patient .”

“Patient?”

“You can wait a little longer, can’t you?” Castiel asks, brow arched devilishly, “Especially since I’m making this so good for you.”

“Too good,” Dean whines, “Let me… please, let me…”

“Let you what, Dean?” he asks, “Like I said, you cannot touch -”

“N-no,” Dean interrupts, “Let me… let me…”

“I’m waiting.”

“ Come .”

Castiel considers the request, thumbs kneading the skin under his thighs. Hums a maddening melody that sends shivers racing up and down Dean’s spine. “You have had a rough day, haven’t you,” he says, “It's not easy giving up control… I guess you may come. But -” his left hand slips into Dean’s asscrack and presses against his hole, “Allow me to help you along.”

“Of course, Cas,” Dean sighs, fluttering around Castiel’s thumb, “Wouldn’t have it any other way. Please…”

“I didn’t think Dean Winchester would be the one to beg…”

“Only for you, angel,” Dean babbles, “I want to be the only one for you… so bad.”

“How bad?” Castiel asks, right hand squeezing his dick, “How long ?”

“Don’t know,” he answers, “One day I blinked and-and all I wanted to do was have you near me. Have you on me. You told me once that you built me from the ground up? Well I want you to tear me the fuck down - up - whatever . Crash through my walls like a fucking wrecking ball until there’s nothing but debris. And then build me again.”

“Are you always this demanding with your partners?”

Dean chuckles, “Only the ones who’ve kept me dangling at the edge for far too long.”

“Then stop talking,” Castiel commands, “and let me push you over.”

He dies there, bare assed and on the cusp of an orgasm. At least, that’s what it felt like. Because one second he was staring at a glowing Castiel and in a blink Dean floated over his own body. Saw how glazed over his eyes became, barely a ring of green around the overly black pupils, and the specks of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Compared the nakedness of his own body to how clothed Castiel still was. Lost in the immense pleasure, Dean barely noticed how Castiel hadn’t removed his layers. Yet with his entire being one delightful static he could take in the little details. Dean floats on a cloud of pure delight as Castiel pumps his dripping dick with abandon. Giggles while Castiel kisses against his chest, rucking up the sweaty shirt he wears.

Soon the static turns into a lightning storm, the cloud he rests on darkening. Dean is struck by a stray bolt, piercing his spirit and waking him from his spell. His body groans with the need for release. His wrists bleed from how they’ve rubbed the metal cuffs. Huffing, Dean begs his angel, “Can I… Oh please, please, please, Castiel, can I…?”

Castiel nods, “Of course.”

The divider snaps in two, Dean’s hands raking through Castiel’s hair. His fingertips twitch with newfound freedom. Overwhelmed by the different choices, Dean feels drunk. His nails scrape against Castiel’s scalp, down his neck and across his trench coat. He grips the jacket as the giddiness fades into his riptide-like orgasm.

Come shoots from his dick without warning, ripping a roar out from a primal part of Dean’s being.  His legs bounce and his vision dangerously fades for a moment. Dean shuts down, sagging onto Castiel’s shoulder. In the next beat his systems reboot, and he gasps for breath.

“Cas,” he breathes, “ Casssssss … CasCasCasCasCasCasCasCas-”

“I’m right here, Dean,” Castiel whispers, stroking his head, “You were so good… so good.”

Dean chuckles, chains rattling. “Don’t know ‘bout that,” he shrugs, “I touched you…”

“I said it was okay, didn’t I?”

He sighs. “This is all really okay with you?”

Castiel halts, the suddenness scaring Dean. Makes him fear he said something wrong, especially when his angel draws back and cups his hands in his face. “Dean,” Castiel says, “There are no words to describe how okay I am with all of this. I am post-verbal, completely. Nothing in English, Enochian, or any other language can come close to describing the fire that burns inside for you. I only…” He ducks his gaze, sheepish for the first time since he entered, “I only hope that whatever… this was… it wasn’t an ending, or a means to an end. It’s a beginning . Is that… what you want?”

Dean’s face hurts from how wide his grin stretches. “You kidding?” he laughs, “I’m not going anywhere . Chuck himself couldn’t write me out of your life, or vice versa. What we did now, it ain’t no ‘Once Upon a Time’... but I’ll be damned if we don’t get the ‘Happily Ever After’ we deserve.”

Their foreheads knock into each other so Dean can only see Castiel’s face. Studies the gentle blue waves of his eyes, peaceful enough to lull him to sleep. His blinks slow and lengthen, lids heavier each time.

Castiel huffs. “You’re tired.”

“No I’m not,” Dean yawns, straightening against the divider. “I can still go. I have to…” he glances at Castiel’s crotch, “it’d be selfish if you did all that and I konk out like some pillow princess.”

“I won’t mind, Dean,” he tells him, “Don’t feel obligated. Besides… we have the time.”

Dean startles, lips parting. “Yeah… yeah, I guess we do.”

“Lay down, Dean. Relax…” Castiel guides Dean’s head to the side, laying it on the jeans he folded earlier. Then his angel follows, wrapping his arm around Dean. Castiel’s chest blanketed his back, easing Dean into unconsciousness.

Before his eyes closed, Dean wrapped both his hands around Castiel’s, squeezing it. “I’m so happy…”

“As am I. Now rest… I’ll be here when you wake up…”

Dean sleeps the easiest he has in years.

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

He wakes with the slam of the front door, a frightful breath rushing into his body. Dean jumps to a sitting position, staring wildly at his brother.

Sam gapes down at him, bag plopping beside him as his grip slackened considerably. Skin pale, his brother’s hazel eyes fade to grey as he processes the sight in front of him. Dean uses the time to take his still shackled hands and pulled his shirt over his junk. “Cas,” he hisses, “Cas, wake up!”

Castiel growls from behind him. “I’m not asleep, Dean.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Angels don’t sleep.”

“Oh, then you chose to let Sam walk in without warning me?”

His angel perks up, squinting an eye open to see the younger Winchester standing in front of the still open door like a zombie. Flying to his feet, Castiel stumbles over to the bed. “Sam?” he gasps, “What are - what are you doing back so soon?”

Watching Castiel panic sets Sam off. Realizing what he walked in on, he claps a hand over his eyes and spins on his heel. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I left you two alone!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Sorry, Sam, but how else were we supposed to pass the time?”

Sam splutters, shoulders tensing. “I can’t believe you two were here… while I had to salt ‘n’ burn all by myself!”

“I apologize for the deception, Sam,” Castiel blushes, “if you had known exactly what impulses Moreley made Dean act on, then you would have seen how prudent it was that I stayed here.”

Curiosity piqued, Sam cranes his neck to the side and peeks in. He won’t look at Dean, still pantless. Instead he focuses on Castiel. “His impulses?”

Dean sighs. “Cas here was more magnetic than usual… my hands couldn’t stay away?”

Sam’s eyes rolled heavenward, the hand hovering nearby steeples at his temple. “Could you please put on pants if you’re going to be an idiot?”

“It’s kinda hard when you’re handcuffed…” Dean bites his lip, faltering somewhat. “This… you’re not upset, are you?”

“Kinda,” Sam admits, terrifying Dean, “I mean I was worrying the ghost was gonna make you hurt yourself when all it wanted was for you to fool around with your best friend? I could’ve left you two in the car if that were the case… at least I wouldn’t have been alone.”

Dean’s heart calms at the confession. Glancing over at Castiel, however, he sees his angel’s expression dim. Sensing what needs to be done, Dean clears his throat. “Actually,” he says, “we weren’t… fooling around.”

Sam turns to him, shocked. “What?”

“Me and Cas,” Dean continues, smiling, “it was more than that, Sam. Deeper and… shit. Like, you might see me holding his hand without needing some wackadoo ghost prompting me. So I’m asking again… you’re not upset, right?”

“Dean, I…” Sam offers him a smile, “no, I could never… I’m happy for you two.” He looks between them. “Happy, but also traumatized… I didn’t need to see your dick.”

Dean pulls his shirt further over his junk. “There were more important things than getting dressed… at the time.”

“If you give us a few minutes,” Castiel says, “we can have this place as clean as you left it -”

“Nope,” Sam cuts him off, groping around for his duffle, “you could bathe this entire place in a blacklight and there wouldn’t be a bright spot, I still won’t be able to sleep. I’m gonna see if there’s another room or… sleep in the Impala. You two can have this room.”

He almost leaves until Dean calls for him. “Where’d you put the handcuff key?”

“Bedside drawer!” Sam shuts the door behind him, Dean and Castiel alone again.

Dean stands, moving towards the drawer. Finding the key, he makes quick work of unlocking them. He chucks them to the wayside and rubs his ruined wrists.

Castiel glides over, gently bringing Dean’s wrists close. He lightly brushes his lips against the skin there, a rush of electricity crackling against it. The tiny wounds and cuts heal themselves, the red skin fading into its usual color.

“Nice.”

“So?” Castiel says, “How are you feeling? Are your hands your own again?”

Dean shrugs, laying his hands against Castiel’s shoulders. “Kinda hard to tell… I don’t have any other impulses I’m ignoring at the moment?”

Castiel raises a brow. “Really? None?”

“Okay… maybe one.”

“What is it?”

He shoves Castiel against the bed, scrambling on top of him. Legs spread wide to straddle his angel. “Yeah,” he whispers, “I chose to do that.”

Castiel chuckles, “Was that it?”

Dean kisses him, rolling his crotch so it rubbed against his angel’s tenting slacks. “Not even close… I’ve got a lot of pent-up frustration I need to work through.”

“Well we have the time, Dean.”

“We do, don’t we?” Dean sighs, “We finally do.” They kiss again, Dean’s hands sliding away from Castiel’s wrists to cup his jaw. The stubble scrapes delightfully against his palms, reminding Dean that as fantastical the chain of events were, it’s all real. He and Castiel actually came together and the world didn’t end.

Rather, it felt like his world was only beginning.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Attention

Requested by @keltic-goddess

Pairing:  Tetsuya Naito/FC/Hiromu Takahashi

Category:  Smut

Warnings: Threesome action  

23.          How many times do I have to tell you that your body belongs to me? And 33.    I can do anything I want to you and you’ll still enjoy it

“Why were you flirting with him? Letting him touch you?”  The very angry voice of your date Tetsuya Naito was suddenly in your ear and it took everything in you to hide the victorious smile that wanted to break free as you finally won his attention.  He had been ignoring you most of the evening.   Why bring you if he was going to spend his time flirting with the waitresses?  You were used to it unfortunately.  He did this at all the events he brought you to.  Most of the time you let it slide, but tonight you were feeling a little needy.  All it took was a little flirting with his current nemesis Minoru Suzuki to get him by your side.  A dangerous game? Probably.  Especially with your chosen target, but Minoru knew the score and had been more than willing to play along.  Anything to get under Naito’s skin.   If you had to let him paw you a bit, so be it.  It added an element of danger that excited you. 

You winced as Naito’s fingers dug into the tender flesh of your under arm as he began dragging you from the ballroom.  Along the way he pulled you past Suzuki and you couldn’t help but meet Minoru’s knowing gaze and he winked at you making Naito growl and his grip tighten.  His strides quickened and you struggled to keep up.  

Shoving you throw a bathroom door Naito pushed you to the counter, making you bend over the sink as he glared at you in the mirror.

“Fucking slut.  What the hell do you think you’re doing?”  He asked, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you pinned to the counter.  “How many times do I have to tell you that your body belongs to me?  Now you want to whore yourself out to others?  To Minoru Suzuki no less? You know what he does to his girls.  What?  Do you want to be a plaything for all of Suzuki Gun?”

“No!” You protested weakly.  “I just wanted your attention.”  A startled yelp escaped when Naito brought his hand sharply down on your ass. 

“Well you have it now.” Naito said.  “You’re probably going to regret that.”  

“What are you talking about?”  You asked, your concern rising when Naito simply chuckled darkly as he pulled you to a standing position by the hair.   He ignored your questions as he unzipped your cocktail dress letting it fall in a crimson pool at your feet followed by your panties and bra.  “Naito! Answer me please,” You said sharply before getting fixed with a reprimanding frown from Naito.   Your heart was pounding as Naito guided you onto your knees, his hand cupping your chin as he forced you to look up at him.

“I bet you’re soaking wet right now aren’t you?”  He teased, your telling blush the only answer he needed.  You wished you could have denied it, but when Naito got like this it turned you on to no end.  Which was exactly why you had flirted with another man directly in Naito’s line of sight.  “I can do anything I want to you and you’ll still enjoy it.  Can’t I, my little whore?”   You nodded lips parting to suck on Naito’s fingers as he pressed them against your mouth.   Your lips closed around the fingers, tongue circling them as Naito watched you with a slight smile.  “You’re such a good sucker.”  He praised, his free hand stroking through your hair.  “I’ve been bragging about how good you are.  The boys don’t believe me.”   You flushed in embarrassment at the thought of him talking about you like that, but your thighs rubbed together as excitement coursed through you at the same time.   “You’re going to prove to Hiromu that I’m not a liar.”  It took a second to penetrate the haze in your mind and you jerked back eyes widening as you saw Hiromu leaning against the door behind Naito.  You hadn’t even heard the door open, let alone anyone enter.   Protests immediately sprang to your lips as you scrambled to cover yourself. 

“You wanted to give your attentions to another man, so I figured you wouldn’t mind if I invited a friend to sample your ware.”   Naito said moving behind you to grab a handful of hair yanking tightly while ordering you to uncover yourself.   “She’s beautiful isn’t she Hiromu?” Naito asked as his friend looked over your now exposed body.  

“She is Naito-san.  Question is does her mouth work as well as you claim it does?”  Hiromu challenged stepping towards you with his hands in the pockets of his black dress slacks.  Your eyes were drawn to the evident bulge pressing against his zipper a startled gasp escaping as Naito suddenly pushed your head forward, rubbing your face against that bulge.   “Or would she rather let Suzuki-san give it a try?”   He teased. 

“What do you think Y/N?”  Naito asked, his voice hot against your ear as he leaned down.  “Would you rather suck Hiromu or Suzuki?” 

“Hiromu,” You admitted quietly, mouth rubbing against the zipper of Hiromu’s pants.  

“Good girl.  Now, you’re going to suck Hiromu and show him how good you are with your mouth while I fuck you.” Naito told you, once again yanking you to your feet as he pulled you towards the counter Hiromu was now sitting on.  His hand left your hair, only to be replaced by Hiromu’s, who pulled your head back to force you to look into his eyes.  

“I hope you don’t disappointment me Y/N-chan.”  Hiromu said softly, an unfathomable expression on his face.  “The boys will be so disenchanted if I have to report badly on you.  They are so looking forward to trying out your skills.”   Your eyes widened, but your sputtered protests were lost as you were shoved down to Hiromu’s crotch, his hard cock pushed past your lips and into your throat.  

“She won’t disappoint Hiromu,” Naito said coming to stand behind you.  You heard his pants drop to the floor before the head of his dick was sliding along your slit, coating itself in your arousal. 

Clearing your head of the jumble of thoughts racing through it you concentrated on Hiromu.  You had a strange urge to prove yourself worthy of Naito’s high praise of your oral skills.   He wasn’t giving you a lot of opportunity though, guiding your head along at alternating speeds repeatedly burying himself in your throat and making you gag as he hit the back of it. Hiromu would hold himself there for a moment before easing you back up.  That was when you tried to concentrate on sucking and using your tongue, humming against his length until he pushed you back down.   You cast your eyes up at him trying to get a feel as to whether he was enjoying your ministrations, but his hooded eyes gave nothing away as he watched you fellate him.   

You moaned around Hiromu as Naito hit deeply inside you, his fingertips bruising your hips as he pounded into you, the sounds of your juices filling the room as he fucked you.   You swallowed again as Hiromu pushed deep into your mouth, pushing your tongue up against the vein in his cock as he slid in. 

“I want to fuck her.”  Hiromu announced suddenly pulling himself out of your mouth.  Naito didn’t miss a beat pulling out of your dripping pussy and trading spots with Hiromu without waiting for you to voice an opinion.  Immediately Naito’s juice covered cock was in your mouth as Hiromu pressed into your cunt.   You cried out against Naito’s dick as Hiromu thrust fast and deep inside you, his style much different than Naito’s.  

Naito let you work at your own pace, hands supporting him as he leaned back on the counter watching you get fucked by Hiromu as you pleasured him.   He smirked as you screamed around him when Hiromu brought his open palm down on your ass.  You definitely were going to be feeling that later.  Hiromu had a much heavier hand than Naito did and Naito could already see the purpling of a bruise rising on your pale flesh as Hiromu brought his hand down again and again.  Each blow had you crying out sending vibrations through Naito’s cock that had his eyes closing in pleasure. 

He didn’t bother to warn you as he erupted, his seed filling your mouth unexpectedly making you struggle to swallow with him still filling your mouth, and you could feel him leaking out the corners.   You had tears streaming down your cheeks as Hiromu landed a final blow before bringing both hands to your waist and fucking you fast as Naito’s spent cock still rested in your mouth.  

With a grunt Hiromu pulled out of you and spurted his cum over your tender ass.  Naito pulled you off him and directed you to redress as the two men straightened themselves. 

“So?” Naito asked as he looked in the mirror, straightening his tie. 

Hiromu gave a half shrug running his fingers through his wild hair as he smirked at you. 

“It was alright.  I think I need a second go to give an accurate review though.”  He said making Naito laugh loudly. 

[naturenocturne]

&&. ( kael endiron ) was just spotted in amsterdam. rumor has it ( he ) is a ( 237 / & appears 32 ) year old ( vampire ) who resembles ( marlon teixeira ). ( He ) has been said to be ( quick-witted & brave ) but also quite ( hedonistic & intense ). with all the chaos surrounding the magical underworld, ( he ) has chosen to align with ( the vampires ). ( he ) is currently serving as ( general of the vampire court ). hopefully the city doesn’t devour them whole. // fulfilling gabriel’s second-in-command wc

The Basics

Name: Kael Endiron

Age: 237 / Appears 32

Species: Vampire

Occupation: General of the Vampire Court

Positive : Persuasive, Quick-witted, Brave

Negative : Arrogant, Hedonistic, Intense

The History

Kael Endiron was born in a coffee plantation in the Minas Gerais region of Brazil, the bastard son of the European plantation owner and a maid from one of the nearby villages. A vigorous and stiking youth, he was adopted into the main household and given a place among the nouveau riche society of Brazil. But it was a lonely childhood, for his parentage and status isolated him from other children his age. He could speak and act just like the noblemen and women in his peerage, but his distinctive looks and the scandal of his parents’ ongoing relationship meant that he was regarded as little more than a second-class citizen among high society. And though he tried to form friendships with the children from his mother’s village, he was ostracized for being the son of an imperialist. It didn’t matter that his parents had adored one another, or that he had done nothing to earn their hostility; his very existence spat on the rules of good society and thus he was worth less than dirt.

Frustrated and misunderstood, Kael chose to leave his homeland for Portugal, hoping to reinvent himself while he stayed with his father’s relatives abroad. His reception upon arrival was like night and day, for his exotic looks and his aloof attitude attracted the appeal of both men and women alike. Soon, he found himself inundated with lovers, who carted him around like some fashionable accessory to every high-class ball from Lisbon to Paris. While Kael soaked in the attention, like a starving beast lunging for its first meal, it did little to ease the hollow feeling in his chest. And so, he sought after physical pleasures, bringing into bed anyone who would have him, if only to ease the loneliness for one more night. By morning, he was gone, and he obtained a reputation for being a salacious rake among the nobles. Ironically, the infamous reputation only made him more popular, for the curious and the unprepared flocked to his honey trap like moths to flames.

But toying with hearts had consequences. One such lover that Kael abandoned had not taken kindly to his cold disregard, and in their anger, they chose to turn him into a real monster. In the dead of night, they crept into his room, sinking their fangs into his neck and forcing him to drink their blood. The change was immediate and violent, twisting him into a beast of terrifying beauty and strength. Without purpose beyond sating his never-ending thirst, Kael haunted the streets of Paris, fading out of the societal limelight to stalk the less fortunate from the shadows.

It was only after meeting Gabriel, his elegant and deadly friend (and occasional lover), that Kael found purpose in his life. While Gabriel was not the first vampire he had encountered, the connection between them had been nothing short of electric. The suave gentleman was unparalleled in his intelligence, and behind his cool exterior lay a man of such depth and complexity that Kael couldn’t help but drown in it. Finally, after years of searching, he had found a kindred spirit; someone who looked beyond his appearance and saw him as something more than just a burden or a meal. It had been an easy decision, to choose to follow him, sowing seeds of doubt among the most powerful of their kind and entreat them to join Gabriel’s cause. It had felt right to declare Gabriel the king of their kind, for in Kael’s eyes, there was no other like him in this life or the next. 

Years passed since the inauguration of the Night Court, and in that time, Kael has continued to wear the mantle of the General of the vampiric army with pride. Though the protection of Gabriel and the advancement of their united cause remains his top priority, Kael has become competent enough in his role to indulge is...baser desires. An unrepentant hedonist, he established quite the reputation as a high-end client among the brothels of Amsterdam. His latest conquest, as his leader plots to usurp the mortals’ stranglehold on their kind, has had him particularly distracted. Sophia Wren, the angel who fell from the heavens to straddle his lap, has taken him hostage with her sweet words and wicked willingness to bend to his whims. And while Kael has yet to decide if she's more than just a plaything to him, he has no intention of letting her go, even if Amsterdam burns.

Fun Facts

Kael has been accompanying Gabriel for the majority of his vampiric life, and his relationship with the king has always been one walking the thin line between friendship, love and awe. An occasional lover, a steadfast friend and the rightful king of their kind, Gabriel’s well-being has always been at the forefront of Kael’s mind. 

Kael is a regular sight around Amsterdam’s most scandalous locales, often found lounging in the VIP section with someone draped across his lap and eager for his attentions. His current favourite is a sweet-faced angel by the name of Sophia Wren, but he’s never been known to be the picky sort.

In spite of his love for decadence, Kael is also known to be a severe general. If the vampiric army is seen to be lacking in discipline or skill, he has no qualms about running them through the harshest training imaginable until they meet his standards. He takes particular pleasure in breaking in rebellious recruits himself.

[little-lily-w]

Day 8

(This has been posted on Breaking Purity).

Summary: Reader has been feeling very nervous around Michael, not knowing exactly what she is feeling when he is around after having experimented her first orgasm but she clearly wants his attention, so she asks him for having dinner together at the Sanctuary.  

You can read the whole story here ↓

https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812496/chapters/39462706

Words: 1.8 k

Warnings: breathplay

-Come here – he says in an inviting tone and your mind doesn´t know how to act but you find it easier to obey and sit down in front of him. He gives you one bowl and you find out it´s oatmeal with jam. It makes you smile not only because you think that maybe he doesn´t know how to cook but also because of the warm simplicity of the meal – Why are you so nervous? – he asks and you let out a forced laugh - I´m not nervous. I´m just… - you look around on purpose – locked. - You are a fighter. Or a stubborn – he laughs too but genuinely –Or maybe both at the same time but you don´t give up on your idea of going out easily, don´t you? I´m gonna get blind if I continue watching his lips glowing when he smiles.

-So tell me —he continues at your silence — What´s going on through your body right now?

-Nothing… – your cheeks flush red and you start playing with the spoon against the jam. Please control yourself, don´t do it. He has stopped eating and is looking directly at you but you haven´t noticed, your eyes fixed on the bowl. You put the tip of your index finger into the jam —  What should be going on?

You let your impulse win and you bend forward to stick the jam on his nose. You giggle the pair of seconds it takes to do that, but when you come back to your position, there he is: sitting still with strawberry marmalade on a straight face. You swallow realizing you got out of every control, being well aware of the danger you got into.

– Please, Michael, don´t take it personal, I thought it could be funny, don´t…! – but your voice gets cut as he cleans his nose and pounces on you, your body laid down and pinned against the floor, with him on top of you. - You see? That´s what I´ve been asking you all night. But it doesn´t matter because I know what´s going on with you – he breathes agitated. - Michael, please… -Shut up – he says and grabs you by the throat. Your arms intend to take his hand out but he uses his free one to catch both of your wrists, pinning them above your head. You try to disguise the raise up of your hips in a squirm but you can´t trick him – Yeah, I know what you want to feel again… - his eyes scans your body predatorily – but it´s not going to happen simply because you want it. You can´t top me from the bottom and you are gonna have to accept that. But, I can still make it fun… for me at least. Put both arms behind your back – he commands and releases your wrists. You do it, fearful but quick as you lick your lips, both of your hands trapped between your sacrum and the floor – That´s a very good girl – he says mockingly festive – Just to be clear: If you move your hands, it´s over, do you understand? - Yes, Sir – you gasp, out of your mind. He puts pressure on your throat and your arms squirm, but he raises up an eyebrow as a reminder and you tangle your fingers together behind your back to not let them move to his hand – This will teach you self control for sure – he smirks maliciously and stops applying pressure, but never moving his grip away. He presses again on your windpipe and your mouth opens in little gasps as you feel your air supply cut. He then catches your bottom lip in his teeth and pulls it for a few seconds. He releases the pressure again, letting you breath just enough for him to return to it. All your body squirms for oxygen but your arms are firm, the sexual part of your brain keeping them held in place, begging for more of his touch but he doesn´t comply, just there biting your lip. He releases the strength once more.

-Please… - you gasp and he presses on your windpipe again. Your legs kick violently, your body in desperate need for air. - This will also teach you to shut that little mouth and breathe when I allow it – you continue kicking the air, your arms are about to go into survival mode and catch his grip – You won´t have an orgasm. You´re only going to feel what I decide to give to you, so you better breathe and behave – he lets go of your windpipe and your mouth opens wide to inhale deep, you can feel the sound of your heartbeat in every joint, in every muscle – He attacks your windpipe again and now you feel more focused, having taken advantage of the oxygen he lets you keep – I saw the pinky bite marks you did to your forearm – he says and the nervousness of being caught gets you to squirm again – You don´t dare to play rough with yourself, don´t you? – he lets out a small laugh and allows you to exhale and hold air in before he quickly resumes the pressure – But it´s okay, I do – he gets closer to your neck and sink his teeth hard into your flesh without compassion. The sound of the scream is transformed into a growl because of his grip. He lets go of the pressure and your hands are trembling now, the rational part of your brain waking up and considering ending with this. But he squeeze your windpipe again and now his tongue and lips are caressing the mark he´s recently done, the softness and the tingling sensation of his flesh making a hot knot in your belly and your body relaxed so much that you moan. He lets you breathe again and with his free hand he goes down to your slit. He squeezes your throat and slides his fingers very lightly across it, not getting his touch too intimate – Look at you. So fucking wet – his obscene talk and his mouth breathing in your ear makes your hips rise up violently, subconsciously wanting to grind your sex against him, but the short distance he is putting between both of your pelvis impede that. When you are able to feel air supply again, you whimper in frustration and his fingers abandoning your slit, moving up to your stomach underneath your nightgown, feels like the agonizing part of pleasure – Not going to happen today – he presses on your windpipe – See that when I told you to control your breathing and calm down was for your own good?

Now your neck hurts because of the repetitive exercise of his grip and you are desperate, wanting to feel so much more than just some fingertips brushing your belly. You´d be almost ready to pass out if he squeezed your throat too long just to keep his body touching, teasing and tormenting yours. But the idea terrifies you, knowing control has left you and gone to his palm as its owner. The fear that comes with that moment of realizing about your willing vulnerability causes that when he releases your windpipe, your jaw starts trembling. His grip is still on your throat but he stops all action, perceiving your body tensing up in a scared motion.

- Y/N… - he calls but tears start flowing out of your eyes — Y/N move your arms and grab my fist – you don´t move and the sobs intensify – Move your arms and grab my fist – he repeats and this time you do it slowly and shaking but the moment you touch his hand, he releases your throat, his eyes examining yours. - You´re breaking me – you cry scared – I don´t know what´s happening to me. - Shhh – he hushes you and takes your face in his hand to kiss loudly your cheek, such a warm and gentle gesture that surprises you and brings you comfort – You´ve had enough for today. Let´s go to bed. - I don´t think… - you manage to get out between sobs as you sit down on the floor. - I am not asking for your opinion. Let´s go to bed – he interrupts you and helps you stand up. You don´t respond, not like you could change his mind, and he gets you under the sheets. You are on your side giving your back at him with your face hidden in your palms but when he lies down beside you and hugs your waist, you let your hands slide down. He caresses your hair, kissing your cheek once more and the pressure of his hug intensifies, causing your back to stick with his torso. Your mind calms down a little bit and your head leans back to rest on his chest.

- I´m weak – you let out upset. - No, no you are not – he says with a low gentle voice into your ear and squirms to rub himself a little bit with your body – You´re scared. Weakness is the inability to do the things you want to do, fear is the belief that you are unable to do them. And although I like that little bit of shaking when I get closer to you, I don´t like it when your fear makes you hurt yourself. - Remember when you cut my back till you made me pass out? – you say, confronting him with reality. - I´m sorry – he whispers and you try to move away in disbelief but he holds you tighter. Don´t, baby, please – Don´t go anywhere. I´m sorry and I´m not used to be. But that doesn´t mean I´m giving up in my intentions to acquire your soul. Fortunately for the both of us, I found other torture techniques… techniques that you seem to enjoy. - You have to be kidding me. - I´m not – he says and your cheeks flush red, now it´s your turn to get confronted by reality – Maybe in that way, I could get the fear to go away and actually convince you to stand by my side for eternity. Following my leadership, of course. But we have plenty of time to work on your brattiness. - I hate you – you say but in a gentle tone, wanting to erase the proud smile you can feel in your nape. - Do you? – his hot delicious breath in your neck. - Shut up. - Careful, missy. Don´t get too confident and cross the line. - I´m sorry, Sir. Would the Antichrist like to remain silent to get ready for sleeping? – you mock. - Seeing my little plaything has changed her mood, I´d say yes. You bite your bottom lip at his cheeky words and you inhale deep to relax, enjoying a few seconds of silence. -Next time you give me that naughty tone of voice, I´ll spank your ass raw, regardless you being scared or not – he affirms into your ear and nibbles your lobe.

Shit.

[fckscietymoved]

“If you turn your back on me again, you better be bending over.” elijah @ tyrell maybe 👀

    THERE  WASN’T  MANY  PEOPLE  WHO  COULD  CATCH  TYRELL  OFF  GUARD,     he  was  usually  the  one  in  control,  the  one  who  could  dictate  any  moment  between  himself  and  another  person.     however,  when  it  came  to  elijah,  he  was  defenceless,  weak  and  the  only  time  he  ever  wanted  to  give  up  his  control.     he  was  completely  at  elijah’s  mercy;  mind,  body  and  soul.     his  words  gave  him  pause  as  he  stopped,  head  turning  back  to  look  at  him,  an  eyebrow  raised  and  lip  parted.

   “     is  that  what  you  want?     is  your  new  little  plaything  not  exciting  enough  for  you?     she’s  definitely     BEAUTIFUL     ,  i  mean  those  eyes  of  hers  are  enough  to  make  anyone  weak.     but  she’s  new  to  this,  she  won’t  handle  it  and  you  know  it     .     .     .     is  that  why  you’re  here?     to  release  some  of  that  pent  up  aggression  because  you’re  too  scared  to     BREAK     her,    ”

    was  he  a  little  jealous  of  angelica,  elijah’s  latest  interest?     yes.     because  he  saw  the  way  they  looked  at  each  other,  the  way  elijah  had  disobeyed  simple  orders  for  her  and  it  was  such  a  pure     LOVE     that  he  knew  no  matter  what  happened,  she  would  always  be  there.     that  doesn’t  mean  that  he  couldn’t  enjoy  a  moment  like  this,  enjoy  ruffling  elijah  till  he  took  out  that  anger  that  he  was  clearly  feeling.     tongue  darts  across  his  lips,  stepping  towards  him  slowly  as  fingers  move  to  pull  the  tie  off  from  around  his  neck  before  slowly  unbuttoning  his  shirt.

   “     why  don’t  you  come  here  and  make  me,  elijah?     teach  me  a  lesson  that  you’re  clearly  so  desperate  to  show  someone     .     .     .     you  must  be  hungry  for  it.     especially  since  you  still  can’t  break  your  newest  toy  just  yet,    ”

  angry sexual tension  //  STATUS : ACCEPTING  //  @404elliot  

[firenationskydominion]

Chapter 12: The Essence of Ozai

Ozai sat next to her. He remembered her making love to him the previous night. The thought of her made him smile. She held his hand and he felt loved. He felt weird looking at the throne room where he spent so much time. How lonely he had been. First during the audiences with his father. He shuddered. An then as a firelord himself. He was sad and yet somehow detached. So much had happened in the meantime, his time as Firelord seemed like a distant dream. He had suffered and mourned his loss of status, his sadness and pain were etched in his heart and yet the wounds had healed and so had the scars. And he felt loved and at home. He was over it. He watched the footage. Something was not right.

 O:        Stop! Go back!

 M:        This is not a movie, Ozai! I‘ll summon the spiders.

 The spiders went backwards.

 O:        Stop now! Look! There should be a large doorway here where this ugly curtain is.

 M: .      ..OK... Let‘s see if the spiders find a loophole.

The spiders scattered all over. Finally they saw a footage of one spider which crept through a tiny gap in the wooden doorframe. The picture came clear.

Several people were positioned around a table. They were all neither alive nor dead but in a state of suspended animation. As if time had stopped. Zuko was there, but no Azula or Amon.

 M:        This is creepy! We must rescue them. Azula would not be able to do this, but Amon... And we must find out where Amon is! As they are suspended in time they will not notice if five minutes or fifteen days have passed, but after a week their brain will start to deteriorate.

O:        This is a trap, they want us off the ship. I know Azula. She played Amon to get us to leave the ship. She knows that only you can rescue them. Once you’re down they‘ll attack us and take over your ship. Ten thousand men and laser guns will destroy the Earth kingdom and will only leave ash... she wants to end what I had started.

M:        We must break our own patterns. Do the unexpected. Azula still sees you as the Firelord who wants to rule at any price. I am convinced she is doing this for you.

O:        Azula sees herself as heir to the Fire throne. She expects you to defend the weak, to rush in and rescue Zuko and the Fire council.

M:        So are we supposed to just leave?

O:        That would be unexpected. I have told Azula that my interest in the Fire Kingdom is gone. What good is a firelord who can’t fight an AgniKai? I am a realist, I don‘t follow childish dreams.

Ozai sounded disappointed, but he had his feelings under control.

O:        I would rather explore new worlds with you. I want to move forward, not dwell in the past like her.

M:        What are you implying?

O:        Look, she thinks you‘re my plaything, she does not know that we are betrothed. She thinks my loyalty is with her. Once you go down to rescue Zuko, she‘ll capture the ship with Amon and she‘ll get rid of you.

M:        She might well try...

O:        What would the most outrageous thing be that I could do?

M:        Forgive Ursa and Ikem?

O:        No, that will never happen...

M:        You're not the only one in the world who had a nasty divorce, love. You have to learn to get over it. If this is not an option, you could maybe team up with Aang?

O:        I could try to... He has nothing to fear from me.

M:        If we could only move the whole table party without waking them...

O:        We cannot ask the Earthbenders. Firenation is at war with the Earth king. That would be treason. I may have given up on my royal ambitions but I am not a traitor to my people.

M:        Good. The avatar then. First we‘ll hide the ship. Then we‘ll fly to the northern air temple.    

Mya summoned Eternity and told her to navigate the ship to the other dimension by herself. She gave the command to the second officer Rhea Brume. Eternity would return in a fortnight would then try to summon Mya, Ozai or Amon. If none would be responsive, Rhea would take up command with Eternity and leave for Earth. 

Ozai and Mya boarded one of the bigger pods and set direction towards the northern air temple. This time they used their stealth mode. After seven hours of flight they reached the northern air temple where they were welcomed by ten combat ready airbenders led by Aang. 

Mya:     Avatar Aang! We‘re here in peace, please listen to us, Zuko is in danger! Azula and Amon have frozen him in time and they want to steal my ship. I have hidden my ship but I need your help to rescue Zuko.

Aang:   Why should I believe you? You‘re sheltering a fugitive.

Mya:     He is not a fugitive. We had an agreement which Zuko broke. Ozai redeemed himself with his sacrifices on the asteroid which Zuko acknowledged and yet he imprisoned and even tortured him. His own father! I admit, Ozai here was a jerk of a father as Firelord, yet Zuko almost killed him.

Aang:   Is that true?

Ozai:    Yes. You took away my bending. In combat I am as weak as a newborn batkitten. I can fight as a man but I stand no chance against benders of any kind.

Aang:   I did take away your bending powers to save other people. If you have truly changed your powers will return.

Ozai:    They have returned if I need to rescue someone or need to bend fire for peaceful reasons, but not to defend myself.

Aang:   Hm... Maybe you should talk to the Lion Turtle? Show me, can you bend fire now?

Ozai:    Why would I?

A:         Because you‘re a firebender, that‘s kind of what you do? You need a reason? You really have changed...

Ozai smiled and closed his eyes and tried his best. He produced a little flame. Then he looked around and saw Mya‘s shining eyes. His flames increased. Finally he focused on a rock and threw a lightning.

 O:        See that works fine, but if you‘d attack me I couldn‘t use it against you.

 Aang was thoughtful.

 A:         What do you expect me to do?

 Mya:     We need to rescue Zuko. For this we need to give Azula a surprise she didn‘t expect. If Toph and Bumi rescued him, it might end the war! But Ozai as former Firelord cannot partake in it. Toph will not listen to us, but to you. If you request it it will be an impartial request and we can stay out of it. 

Aang agreed to meet with Toph and Bumi. We took the pod to the border of the fire nation where we were supposed to meet with Iroh and June. We approached the remote hamlet Iroh had suggested we meet at.  

O:        By the Firesages, I know this place! I have been here as a child!

M:        What place is this?

O:        My mothers ancestors came from here. It has been long abandoned. She hailed from the fire sages. There was a place here we were never allowed to go... 

Ozai ran forward past the houses to the woods in which we found the entry to a cave. Ozai lit a fireball and entered the cave. 

O:        I have wondered about this all my life. 

M:        Shouldn‘t we meet Iroh first? 

O:        I am certain he is waiting in here! This is the cave of the fire sages.  

We walked through a narrow tunnel which led us to a hall. Ozai lit a lantern on the wall. All lanterns were connected by oiled ropes and the whole room lit up. Ozai was in awe and so was I. The hall was lined by huge statues of former fire sages and in the center there was a fire pit. Human remains lay in the pit. 

Ozai stumbled back, his voice broke. 

O:        They sacrificed humans. Blood sacrifice! That‘s dark magic, it‘s the biggest sin. 

Ozai was pale as a ghost and surprisingly disgusted. I had seen worse on my travels in space and once more I realized how sheltered this world was from the real atrocities in space. 

M:        I wonder when this happened. 

A voice came out of the dark: 

„This abomination was Zozins doing. He was the one who started the sacrifices of the sacred children. Azulon carried on the tradition. He killed all the airbenders here.“

 Iroh emerged from the dark followed by June and Nyla. 

Ozais voice was frail. 

O:        Brother, why didn‘t you ever tell me. This would have changed everything.

I:          Are you sure it would have, Ozai, my overambitious and ruthless brother? Are you sure you would not have continued the tradition of our family?

O:        I...

I:          When you told me to go to exile with Zuko I felt that you cared about him and wanted him safe by my side and out of the palace. You did not want him to become YOU. And yet look where we are now. He IS your blood, not that man’s son.

O:        I have changed. I will make things right. And if it’s the last thing that I do. Sacrificing blood at such a sacred site is an abomination. We are cursed. I need to break this cycle.

I:          You would have used it and you would have told Azula, which would have been even worse.

O:        We need to break this blood magic. But how?

M:        How did this place look before the blood sacrificing started?

I:          The statues of the fire sages and the center court. But not the altar or the remains. But I am not sure...

M:        Aang would know. He could summon Avatar Roku and he would know more about all this. 

Ozai ran out of the cave, Iroh followed him. In the meantime June and I investigated the cave. The statues of the fire sages were old, there were remains of about a hundred people scattered all around them, half of them children. It broke my heart. I had seen many things, but this was heart-breaking. Behind the statues, there were wooden crates and rusty old weapons. Ozai and Iroh returned three hours later with shovels and a cart. We started to clear the center of the cave by moving the remains and ashes into the crates. 

At this moment we heard a loud thud outside. We all hid behind the statues, combat ready. People were approaching. Nyla started wagging her tail. Friends?

 Aang and Toph entered the cave. 

M:        Aang! What are you doing here?

Aa:       I felt a grave imbalance in the spirit world and Avatar Roku spoke to me. He told me that Ozai needed my help.

O:        You came for me?

Aa:       I am the avatar for everyone. Even for you and foremost you. You needed my help most, always. The avatar snd the Fire Nation always had a special bond. I wish I had been there to guide you when you were a child.

O:        I am glad you are here. We found this here... 

Ozai pointed at the center and he was unable to explain himself, so Iroh took over. He told Aang and Toph about Zozin and Azulons crimes and the horrific sacrifices they had done - including the slaughtering of the air nomads. Aang was appalled, tears ran down his face. 

O:        I cannot change what my grandfather did, but I need your help to prevent that it ever happens again.  

Toph:   Let me do this, I’ll wreck this place for good!

O:        No, Beifong! This was a sacred place for centuries before Azulon desecrated it. We need to clear it.

Aang:   I will ask Avatar Roku for guidance. 

Aang sat down and meditated. We all sat on the ground around him. 

Roku:   This is why I fought Azulon, he committed heinous crimes and destabilized the spirit world.

Aang:   How can Ozai fix this?

Roku:   You need to give the victims their proper burial by dispersing their ash in the air, the altar must be destroyed, the temple cleaned by fire by both Firelord Ozai and General Iroh.

Aang:   Firelord Ozai?

Roku:   Yes, he is now wise enough to rule Firenation as the king he should always have been. He is the Firelord appointed by the Fire Gods, blessed by the fire spirits. Zuko will fail because he is not Fire incarnate. 

Aang:   Ozai doesn’t want the throne. And he cannot fight his Agni Kais. 

Roku:   You have the power to return what you took. To mend the broken link, to help him find his connection to his element. 

Roku vanished and left Aang back confused. 

M:        What did you see?

Aang:   I now know what we must do.  

Aang ordered us to take all remains outside. He then asked Toph to smash all the remains to dust and break the altar into rubble. He then went into the Avatar state and airbent high into the sky creating a wind tunnel which sucked all the ashes up and dispersed them high up in the stratosphere. In the meantime Iroh and Ozai burnt the cave until there was no oxygen left. They ran out gasping for air and collapsed outside. 

I held Ozai who was deeply moved.

O:        I want to leave with you, my love. Far away. Really far far away from this place.

M:        I love you, Ozai. No matter where we are. You are not alone in this.

Aang descended and his face was wet with tears. I hugged him. Ozai apologized and Aang looked at him with a strange look in his eyes.

Aang:   You feel my pain. I feel your suffering. Since that day when I took your bending power we are connected.

Ozai:    I wish I had known you when I was younger. We might have become friends. I needed a friend like you.

Aang:   Will you leave this world when all this is over?

Ozai:    Yes, once Zuko is established as Firelord again, I‘ll leave with Mya for the stars! 

Aang looked at him with a very sad face, walked up to him and hugged him. 

Aang:   I am sorry, Ozai, you have another fate. He went into the Avatar state and put his thumb on his forehead on his third eye. I screamed.

 M:        Noooo! Don‘t kill him!

Aang returned to normal and Ozai stumbled away. I ran to Ozai and held him. He was alive.

 M:        What did you do??

Aang:   I gave him back his powers. Now it‘s all up to him. If he has truly changed, our world will find peace. If he hasn‘t we will all die. Toph and I are going to the Firenation capital to rescue Zuko.

June:    Before you leave! Nyla has found out about the whereabouts of Amon. He is being held in the Temple of Fire on Ember Island.

Mya:     We will get Amon out. Only I can fight him, if he has turned.

Ozai:    Toph, Aang, move Zuko and the others to Ember island, my house has a boat house where you can hide them and do hide the entrance to this cave. This shall remain our secret, so that my children never get tempted to use this place. Aang and Toph earthbent the entrance shut for good.  

Aang and Toph left on Appa to pick up Bumi in Omashu. They arrived in the middle of rebuilding efforts which Bumi was coordinating.  

Bumi:   Look, the asteroid destroyed the merchant quarter. It landed on the cabbage shop and whole Omashu stank of burnt cabbage for a week.

Aa:       What happened to the merchant?

Bumi:   He got insurance money and left for the Fire Nation.

Aang and Toph explained Zukos situation to Bumi, but he declined to help. 

Bumi:   We are at war. Helping him would be treason. But kidnapping him would be a heroic feat, dear Toph. And as you are technically „stealing“ him, you should bring him to Omashu instead. 

[neoandersons]

Spitfire || Patrick Hockstetter

I wrote this in celebration of gaining 500 followers! Thank you for everyone who has followed me so far! If you wish, feel free to send in prompts or requests. I apologize for any grammar, spelling, or punctuation errors. I might continue this if you want!

Warnings: Nothing severe, Patrick not taking rejection as an answer. 

The citizens of Derry, Maine—[Name]'s new home—has deemed her family bizarre. But [Name] thought Derry was an odd place too, and it lingered with a stench of rotten meat and sulfur. Some about this small town in New England was revolting, and it was evident. Sometimes, it was the way parents treated the children, or perhaps the children themselves.

But the more [Name] sat by her window, in her new box-filled room, she concluded that perhaps there was something deeper. Some creature so vile, and so sadistic, it left her feeling powerless. Then again, maybe she's overthinking the whole situation. 

The sensation of walking through an empty, unfamiliar house was odd, and it didn't feel like home yet. It never did when [Name]'s family moved as often as they did due to her father's job. But she knew Derry was different compared to the towns she lived in both the East and West coast.

By the time she's downstairs for breakfast, her father is gone. All that remains is the crumpled newspaper, headlining: 

WHERE IS EDWARD CORCORAN? 

It's bold black lettering stands out, and it furthers [Name]'s suspicion on the town, leaving her queasy. She picks at her pancakes with her fork, barely finishing one, and leaving the eggs behind. She wasn't hungry anymore. 

Across her, sleepily looking down at their plate, is [Name]'s younger brother, Steve. Despite the tiredness seeping through his body, he finishes his food. The boy is anxious too but not for sensing the ominous presence. Instead, he's worried he he'll be alone again at a new school, and eating by himself. 

Even as their fears and wariness consumes them, the [Last Name] siblings walk out the door with their backpacks hanging on their shoulders. 

As they reach their destination, [Name] glances at her brother once more, "Good luck." 

"You too." He mumbles, and off into the jungle they go. 

As [Name] concludes her business in the office, receiving her schedule, she's guided by another student. Greta Keene is her name, and she saunters through the hall as she guides [Name]. She mutters where everything was, sounding bored, as she popped another bubble of her gum. 

[Name] simply nodded, giving short and curt replies, feeling disdain already. Before [Name] walked into her first period, Greta gives her a long look. It seems as if she's assessing [Name]. 

"What brings you here?" Greta inquires, finding this an opportunity to scope some info on the new girl. 

"My dad's job." [Name] vaguely replied, but Greta doesn't press for more information on her reason why she's here. Instead, she informs [Name] where she'll be at lunch, taking the girl under her wing. 

As Greta quickly urges her into the rowdy history class, and introduces her to the teacher. The man, a quirky forty-year old who looks too tired, dismisses Greta before turning to [Name]. 

"Welcome to US History, [Name]. Go ahead, and introduce yourself." Mr. Dennis, who had introduced himself moments before, told her. [Name] has been upfront and in the spotlight before yet it never eased her nerves. The class itself was either split into two categories: mildly interested or extremely interested. Derry didn't receive new students often, and the last new kid was Ben Hanscom. 

There was one student, whose beady bluish green eyes bore into her, making her flesh crawl. It's a gaunt boy, with longish hair, and [Name] would had deemed very attractive. But the glint in his eyes threw her off, and made her cagey. 

Luckily, she's placed next to someone else, and tries to ignore him. [Name] knows he's still staring, even as she rushes out the class when the bell rings.   The glint in his eye was the look of a predator who was waiting to devour her. At lunch, Greta asks various of questions in the loud and boisterous cafeteria. 

After giving another answer, one regarding if she's had a boyfriend or not, [Name] asks her own. 

"What should I know about this place?" [Name] curiously enquires, looking up from her peanut butter sandwich. 

"The school or Derry in general?" 

[Name] thinks for a split second before replying, "Both." 

"Well, there's an apparent killer on the loose. You don't know him, but this stuttering twerp named Bill Denbrough's younger brother went missing. If you're asking me, I think the kid is dead." Greta reveals, causing [Name] to frown. That must be hard, not knowing the whereabouts of your sibling. 

[Name] would loose herself trying to find closure if anything happened to Steve. "Like that Edward Corcoran boy?" [Name] adds, and Greta nods. 

"Yeah, his stepdad murdered his brother. He's locked up in Shawshank now. No one knows where the Edward's body is at." Greta divulges, and it makes this small town seem much more ominous. 

At the corner of her eye, she notices the lanky boy from earlier with three more boys. 

"Greta, who's that?" [Name] asks, pointing discreetly towards the spindly boy's direction. 

Greta turns, meeting the direction [Name]'s gaze was at, and cringes in disgust, "That's Patrick Hockstetter, and he's a damn freak. You don't like him do you? I swear he's a walking ST—" 

[Name] quickly shakes her head, debunking the idea, "Hell no! He's a creep. I was just wondering because he kept staring at me in class." 

Greta snorts at the statement, "You're right about that. Patrick stares at about anything that moves." 

[Name] decided two things after school ended: Derry had an insidious presence and that Greta Keene wasn't too bad. Later, [Name] would learn that Greta had more than one face like the creatures she'd come across. 

But until then, she lived in sweet oblivion. After the bell rings, and [Name] gathers her items from her locker is when Patrick Hockstetter approaches her. 

"Hey girlie," Patrick greets with a leer, and [Name] feels goosebumps on her skin. Greta wasn't here now to protect her, and she was alone with the predator again. 

But [Name] decides to put a mask on, acting unaffected, "Can I help you?"

"You sure can. You can start off by giving me a kiss." Patrick perversely suggests, and [Name] shoots him a glare. 

"As if!" She bellows out, slamming her locker shut, and rushing to get away. 

But Patrick didn't appreciate the gesture, I mean, how dare she treat a god this way? The way Patrick interpreted it, the new girl was created for his amusement, and she'll learn her place here. 

His thin fingers catches one of the hanging adjustment straps of [Name]'s backpack, halting her from scurrying away. The girl pulls back, looking more annoyed than fearful—that had to change. 

"Look princess, the fiery and feisty attitude is a turn on but it ain't gonna fly with me forever." Patrick warns her, before pulling her closer by the straps of her bag. 

"I don't care what you like or don't like, Hockstetter." [Name] retorts back, glaring at the boy leering down at her. 

"You know my name? I'm so honored." Patrick mocks, finding the girl's disobedience entertaining. She would be so fun breaking, Patrick thinks.

He imagines seeing the girl becoming a moaning mess under him, following his orders. He'll bend her into shape eventually, and no protests from her is going to stop him.

"L-Let me go!" [Name] stammers out angrily, becoming nervous as Patrick's hands secure themselves onto her wrists. 

"And ruin all the fun? I don't think so, girlie. I'll tell you this, just give me a kiss and I'll let you go." Patrick proposes, licking his chapped lips. 

[Name] hated the grin on his face, and she wanted nothing more but to slap it off his face. Then an idea hit her, and she returned the grin. 

"Fine, I'll give you a kiss, Hockstetter." [Name] whispers, almost coming off seductively.

Patrick feels himself grow hard, leaning in to give the petite girl what she wishes for. But before he could obtain the satisfaction of feeling her soft lips, [Name] kicks him in the shins. The shock of [Name]'s kick was enough for Patrick to let her out of his grasp as he groaned in pain. 

[Name] saw this as an opportunity to run out of the desolated hallway, and head straight home. Patrick, bending down with his hands on his knees, laughed. 

He laughed because it wasn't what he expected from a girl. [Name] was even more fun than he originally cracked her up to be. It only made him desire her more, and he wasn't going to give up now. He was too turned on by her actions. How often do people come across a spitfire like her in Derry, Maine?

The answer is not often enough.

 Patrick won't miss this perfect opportunity to unravel this girl, rearrange her, and make her into his plaything. 

"I do love it when they run. I love a good chase." Patrick tells himself, smirking at all the possibilities that have yet to come. 

It isn't over yet, [Name]. It's simply just begun—this game—with Derry's most deranged boy. Good luck, [Name]! 

[prettyfunkyunorganized]

Daughter Series - Monster Hunter McCree AU

Maybe it’s rather silly of me to write an AU with a character I’ve only recently introduced, but this was a lot of fun to write! No regrets :) 

This is inspired by McCree and Reaper’s Halloween skins from this year that I loved. Ended up being 3,600ish words. Put a break in the middle. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

More Daughter Series:  Hanzo, McCree, Reaper, Soldier 76, Genji, Roadhog

Halloween Daughter Series: Roadhog, McCree, Genji, Reaper

After years of trailing, searching, and tracking, McCree felt as if he was finally closing in on his prey. Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Again. He had this feeling back in Liverpool and before that in New York, but nothing had come of it. Reaper continued to elude him, over and over.

“Damn vampire piece of shit,” the hunter hissed, rolling another cigarette. “I chased him all the way back home to the US just to turn right around and head back to this rainy shit hole.” London always made him cranky. He took a long drag and rubbed his temple. “There was another drained body here this morning,” McCree assured himself, “he must be close. He must be.”

He pulled his long coat tighter around his cold shoulders with a sigh, watching and listening. It was dark, but his highly trained eyes had no trouble scanning the streets. All he needed was a flash of movement, something darting by too fast, a rustle in the darkness – any sort of sign. He was getting restless. He needed a chase. Some action.

“Come on,” he growled after an hour of roaming with eyes peeled, “where are you?!”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and McCree grinned. He whipped out his gun, swiveled on his heels, and fired a bevy of shots at the figure. Then he realized the silhouette was too small to be Reaper’s. His stomach dropped as the body fell to the ground with a whimper. He’d always been too hasty, his mentors had told him that a thousand times. “One of these days you’re going to put a bullet in something that doesn’t deserve one!” He’d finally done it - to something in a tattered blue dress and a thin cloak.

“Oh God,” he sputtered kneeling beside her. “Miss? Miss?! Are you alright? Ah shit, please don’t be dead! Imma get you some help, ya hear? Just hold on!”

She grabbed his arm as he tried to stand up, pulling him back. She was strong. Too strong. There was another one of his bad habits biting him in the ass: he was too gullible when it came to women. “One of these days you’re going to let something bat a pair of pretty lashes at you and slit your throat.” His mentors were right again. Mostly. He saw her sickly red eyes and pointed teeth just before she lunged.

Much to McCree’s surprise, he awoke. Sore and confused, but alive. Wherever he was, it was dark and musty, making his nose crinkle at the mildewy smell. Dust coated his cheek as he sat up from the cold wooden floor.

“Son of a bitch,” he whined quietly, rubbing the bump on his head, “where did that little monster drag me? And where the hell is my hat?”

A low, sneering chuckle hit his ears as his hat drifted into the light, swaying back and forth teasingly. He recognized that pitch black glove and the elegant red cuff surrounding it.

“Reaper,” the hunter snarled, “not like you to let a little girl do your dirty work.”

The vampire laughed again, sauntering into the light. “What can I say – I wanted to test my new fledgling. And my, my did she impress! Pretty thing hauled your unconscious body back here less than an hour after I sent her out.” He sat down on a fraying velvet couch in front of McCree, lounging as if he didn’t have a care in the world after tossing the hunter’s hat flippantly to the side. “I will have to give her quite the reward.”  

“You gonna feed her a baby or something,” grumbled McCree as he traced his fingers across his belt. His gun was gone, his crossbow was gone, the sharpened stakes were gone. Even the dagger in his boot had been taken.  

“A baby,” Reaper scoffed, “that’s hardly a meal for a growing girl. I was thinking something a little more . . . personal.” His voice was suddenly sultry, and McCree instantly recoiled in disgust.

“That was very rude,” his captor scolded, “you’ll damage the girl’s pride! The way I hear it, you’re quite the Don Juan, but just rumors I suppose.”

“Oh I do just fine with the ladies, and I don’t even have to kill ‘em or hypnotize ‘em to do it,” McCree barked back. “Probably has something to do with the fact that I don’t wear a menacing mask or eat people.”

“Says the man with spurs and silver-tipped spikes on his metal arm. Glad you found a replacement, by the way – makes you a much more worthy adversary. More fun to toy with.”

“Or you could have not torn it off in the first place,” McCree fumed.

“Where’s the fun in that,” Reaper said swinging his legs onto the floor. The satin lining of his long overcoat glimmered in the candlelight – red and smooth and somehow ominous. His blood would glint like that when the beast finally got around to killing him.

“You are having fun, aren’t you,” the hunter asked sarcastically. “How much longer are you going to drag this out? There’s a lot of other shit I could be getting done right now.”

Reaper snorted. “Like what? For over a decade all you’ve been doing, day in and day out, is searching for me.” He stood and walked to McCree, stopping inches away from him. The hunter tried to lean away, but the vampire grabbed his chin and pulled him closer. “I am all you care about. I am all you think of. I am all you want, aren’t I?”

“No,” McCree automatically objected, but he could feel his face go hot. The truth in those words stung.

“Tell me the truth,” Reaper’s voice boomed. McCree’s vision went bleary as the overwhelming power of the elder vampire crawled its way into his mind. He had to obey, despite all the training he’d endured. Reaper was too old, too skilled.

“Yes,” the hunter admitted breathlessly.

“Say it,” Reaper demanded smugly.

“All I want is to kill you.” His own voice echoed in his head, bouncing about and rattling all the shame out of its hiding spots.

“You don’t even care about your order’s mission anymore, do you? ‘To seek all evil, to destroy all beasts, to protect all humanity.’ You could have killed a hundred of my kind in the past ten odd years, but no, you always come scampering back to me. Isn’t that right, Master Hunter?”

“Yes.” He hadn’t checked in with his superiors in ages. When they didn’t support his obsession, McCree branched out on his own.

“Tell me, boy, are you happy, chasing me all over the world always one step behind?”

“No.”

“Does anything make you happy?”

“The thought of killing you.”

“But of course,” Reaper sighed. “How predictable. You haven’t thought this through, though, my American friend.” The vampire kneeled down, the pointed edges of his mask much too close to the hunter’s face. “If you kill me,” he continued, “you’ll have nothing left! No prey, no purpose, nothing.”

The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Damned bloodsucker was right, completely and utterly right.

“Judging by the paleness of your skin and the thumping of your heart, you know I’m correct, don’t you, McCree?” His kidnapper sounded so smug it hurt, but at least he was pleased enough to release his captive from the mind control.

The hunter was left reeling. It felt like some sort of awful combination of a hangover and a migraine was hammering into his skull. He sat there on the floor, curled over and panting as Reaper’s words seeped into his bones, filling him with dread and humiliation. He’d let this thing take over his life. He used to be a man – maybe not a good man – but a man with his own goals and desires and ambitions. Now? Now he was a plaything. A puppet for a fanged freak.

“Aw, poor little hunter,” Reaper cooed cruelly, “someone tear down your whole world?”

McCree glared up at him. “Fuck you.”

The vampire burst out laughing, his entire figure shaking with twisted joy. “You are a delight! All full of useless bluster and pathetic angst. And I’m not even finished yet! I’ve one more surprise for you ‘partner.’”

Hearing the old, undead man fake a Southern accent was strangely unsettling. A shiver ran up the hunter’s spine. “Oh goodie,” McCree mumbled, trying to be tough. He sure didn’t’ feel that way.

“One more question, then your treat,” Reaper promised like he was talking to a dog. “Answer me this: do you have any hope left? Any at all? You’ve failed to kill me, even after all this time, and now you know if you kill me, your life is pointless. Seems rather hopeless to me.”

“What does it matter,” McCree said with an angry huff.

“I told you to answer me.” Reaper rose from his bended knee, undoubtedly glaring down at his captive. “Do you want me to put you under again?”

He did not want that. Christ almighty he didn’t want that! His head was still throbbing.

Before he could come up with a witty reply, McCree was buckling over and writhing in pain. Evidently, Reaper had no patience. As the kidnapper man screamed and twitched on the ground, the question blared in his ears. “Do you have any hope? Any at all?” It was like a massive gong, sending agonizing vibrations into every fiber of his being.

“For fuck’s sake, no! I don’t have any hope,” McCree all but sobbed. “None! I don’t have a single fucking thing to live for anymore! Nothing!”

And the pain was gone, leaving the hunter in a panting, sweaty pile. He’d given in so fast. He disgusted himself.

“Not a ‘single fucking thing to live for,’ you say,” Reaper mused. “Wonderful!”

McCree wanted to smack the smarmy vampire right out of his fancy boots, but what good would it do? Reaper would probably just laugh at him, call him ‘cute,’ or some shit. The hunter had been defeated, once and for all. He was empty and ready to die, even if it was at the hands of this monstrosity.

“Chin up, cowboy,” Reaper sang, “time for your reward! A little something to perk you back up, now that you’re at your lowest.” He picked McCree up by his neck effortlessly, forcing the man to his feet. “My lovely little fledgling, time to come out!”

The girl that had attacked him tentatively stepped into view, head bowed and hands trembling. She looked disheveled, especially next to her master. Her clothing was torn in a number of places and her shawl was hanging on by threads. The shoes covering her feet had visible holes, and dirt smears were splattered all over her body. It would have been depressing if not for the blood on her chest and arms. McCree scowled at her. Her fingers were still stained red from her last sloppy feeding.

“Eyes forward, my dear, you are a fearsome creature of the night! Act like it,” Reaper said waving the young woman closer.

She tilted her head up when told revealing high cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Her hair was matted with dried sinew and what seemed like weeks of inattention. McCree should have found her repulsive, sickening, but she looked so . . . scared. Her red eyes darted between the hunter and Reaper as her slender figure twitched erratically. Something was wrong with her.

Reaper wrapped his arm around his prisoner as if they were longtime friends, speaking in a chipper tone unbefitting of someone who burned villages out of boredom. “Master Hunter Jesse McCree, venerated member of the murderous Van Helsing Order, I would like you to meet your daughter, Juniper.”

McCree’s head flinched back, shooting Reaper a confused look. The vampire just laughed. “Don’t believe me,” he asked smugly. “Just picture the little dear with brown eyes the same color as yours, and that long brown hair tied back in a ribbon, just like yours. Not seeing it yet?”

He could see the resemblance, but the denial was still holding on tightly.

The vampire let out an exasperated moan, “Fine then, look at the freckles. Remind you of anyone? Perhaps a certain redheaded innkeeper’s daughter? From your homeland? One who liked to tell tales about the local history and ‘The Great Werewolf Hoard?’ Ringing any bells?”

“Ho fuck,” the hunter gulped before he could stop himself. He remembered that woman – her stories, her kind smile, her nose. This frightened newborn vampire had that same nose.

With an almost deafening laugh, Reaper shook the hunter’s shoulders like he’d just delivered a hilarious punchline. “You should see the look on your unshaven mug! All of a sudden all the work I’ve put into this reunion is worth all the trouble,” the masked man sighed contentedly. “She’s a cute little beastie, isn’t she?”

“She’s a monster,” McCree said quietly, trying to convince himself as much as Reaper. “Whatever she was before, now she’s just one more creature I gotta put down.”

“Oh,” the elder vampire said finally removing his arm from McCree, “is that so?” His mischievous tone made the other’s man’s stomach flop. “You don’t feel anything for her? No regret? No sympathy? No tenderness?”

“No,” the hunter grunted uncomfortably.

Reaper hummed curiously before shrugging and grabbing the young woman’s wrist. The girl’s eyes widened and she let out a pitiful noise as her master pulled her into a headlock. “I suppose if I can’t torture you with her, Juniper here has no use.” With an overly dramatic flourish, the undead man produced a wooden stake and threw his arm back, ready to strike. His fist came barreling toward her chest.

“Don’t!” McCree’s hands grabbed Reaper’s a fraction of a second before the mahogany pierced Juniper’s heart. The hunter had never been so terrified in all his life. He didn’t want to watch her die. He should have wanted to kill her, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

“That’s what I thought,” Reaper crooned in a voice so low it could rattle a man’s innards. “We’ve been doing this dance a long time, master hunter, and I believe I’ve come to know you quite well. You’re a simple man with simple desires – so simple it’s a bit sad. You want love, McCree, plain and simple. That’s why you’re always so good to women you woo, why you always give your last few coppers to the gutter-rat children in the streets, why you spend your evenings happily listening to old men in bars blather about their past. And here’s your chance!” He let Juniper out from under his grasp, instead holding her by the waist, their bodies pressed together at the hip. “You have a child, McCree! A girl, at that! Someone to dote upon and dress in frills. Someone who will look up to you and hold you tight. Your very own family, small, but pure.”

The vampire’s gloved fingers began to snake up Juniper’s torso, massaging her tender flesh. She stood there, letting him do it, but stared at the hunter, desperately. Rage began to boil in the hunter’s core. Reaper’s hand groped the young woman’s breasts.

“You have a daughter, McCree, and she’s all mine!”

“You fucking – ” He lunged at the creature, knowing it was futile, but he didn’t care. If it meant the bastard stopped touching Juniper, it was worth it, but the hunter’s stolen gun was suddenly pointed right between his eyes.

“Ah, ah, ah, my boy! Not so fast.” Reaper turned the gun to press against the young woman’s ear. “Violence begets violence, you know.”

McCree took a step back, arms in the air. “What do you want from me,” he spat.

“There is only one more thing you can give me, old friend,” the vampire said nuzzling Juniper’s neck. “I’ve broken you down until you were all but begging for death, and now I’ve given you something to live for – all that’s left is letting your precious daughter feast on your blood. I’ve hardly fed the poor dear since I turned her, so she’s famished!” He smacked her ass, pushing her toward McCree. “Kill him, my dear. Feast on him! Sink those pointy fangs into his neck and drink your fill!”

She slowly closed the distance between them and fell to her knees in front of McCree. Her body was shaking more violently now. He wanted to hold her close and wrap his coat around her. Even with her teeth bared, the hunter didn’t feel an ounce of fear.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her, “I promise.” Reaper chuckled.

Juniper moved closer, her nose nearing his jugular. She was a young vampire, but plenty fast. He didn’t see her hand as it moved to his neck.

“Don’t look down,” she mouthed at him and he frowned for just a moment, then he felt her slip something into his hand. He knew that shape, that smoothed edge. A silver-tipped stake.

“Help me,” she whimpered almost inaudibly, “I can’t keep resistin’ much longer. He’s – he’s in my head!” Tears spilled down her cheeks, filling McCree with a determination he’d never known the likes of.

“What’s the holdup, Juniper? I know you’re a ‘hick’, but surely someone taught you to not to play with your food,” Reaper joked.

McCree looked at him and scowled. “I need your help, baby girl,” he murmured back to his daughter.

“What was that,” the elder creature hissed, flying to McCree’s side, grabbing him by his long hair and yanking his head back. “Enough sniveling, Juniper, kill him, now!”

She cringed and gripped her forehead, yelping and quivering in pain, but she was strong, like her father. With an inhuman snarl, Juniper tackled Reaper to the ground, pinning him in place before he could react. McCree scrambled to his feet, weapon at the ready. With one practiced movement, he stabbed Reaper in her chest, making the vampire screech and squirm.

He was hurt, but far from dead. He whipped his arm from under Juniper and punched her in the throat, making her crumble to the floor. McCree clenched his silver metal fist and pummeled Reaper again and again and again. Until his mask broke and the hunter hesitated at the sight of the mangled face below him – all gnashing teeth and ashen skin and a too long tongue that lashed out like a spear.

McCree may not have been frozen in place for long, but it was long enough. Reaper pounced, stake still stuck insinde of him, but this time he was on top, grinning and dripping saliva on the hunter’s stunned face.

“I’m going to bleed you dry, feed the meat from your corpse to my dogs, and grind your bones with my bare hands!” He leaned in closer, licking the sweat from McCree’s brow. “Then I’m going to chain up your ‘baby girl’ and do every filthy thing I can think of to her supple little – ”

There was a blast and Reaper was tossed off of the hunter. The vampire’s body was still. McCree was panting, waiting for the beast to get up and chuckle, but he didn’t.

“Is,” Juniper rasped shakily, “is he dead?”

The hunter turned to Juniper, who was still holding his pistol in her shaking hands. It was covered in silver adornments, and McCree could smell his daughter’s burning skin. He jumped to his feet and started to pry the gun from her hands.

“No,” he said frantically. “I’ve shot him before – it just slows him down.” He began to wrap up her hands with a bandage from his pocket. “We have to get you away from him. We’ll get on a ship and just keep sailing, okay? I’ll keep you safe, alright?”

When he looked back to Juniper, he saw her staring at him with a dazed look. “You’re bleeding,” she said, swallowing hard. “From yer head. I can smell it. I can feel it.” Her chest heaved as her eyes dilated. “I’m so hungry,” she wailed.

He grabbed her wrists as they approached him. “Easy there, sweetpea, I can’t help ya if I’m dead.” She whined, but nodded. “Can you, uh,” he said eyeing Reaper, “feed on him?”

She leaned over and bit her lip. “Maybe.”

In the time it took him to blink, Juniper was crawling over her master’s body, mouth affixed to his wrist. She made a disgusted face, but didn’t stop until her body stopped shaking.

“Better,” McCree asked as she stood.

“You ever vomit in your mouth and have to gulp it back down,” she grumbled. “It was like that.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, hun. We’ll figure something out for next time.”

“Next time,” she said wrapping her arms around herself. “There’s gonna to be a next time.”

“We’ll find a way,” McCree said blocking her view of Reaper’s mangled form. “I dunno how, but I’m gonna take care of you, ya hear?”

“I didn’t want to be like this,” she sputtered at him, “he just found me and dragged me away and – ” Her hands clamped over her trembling lips.

“I believe you,” he said grabbing her arms. So damn cold. “It’s not your fault.”

She looked up to him with teary eyes and slowly leaned into his chest, crying softly into him. He held her close and rubbed her back.

“I’ve got ya, baby girl, I’ve got ya.” He didn’t know how, but he was going to protect his daughter, no matter what she was. She was scared and hurt and confused, but she wouldn’t be alone. Neither of them would be anymore.