At some point, I need a muse with two cats named Jay Catsby and Daisy Mew-chanan

I'm just really feeling Nia right now, so, if anyone's interested in a funky lil lesbian? Like this for a starter.

Ellie was entitled to her anger, her hurt, or betrayal--or whatever it was she was feeling. Morgan would understand if she never wanted to talk to him again, even though it would kill him. He might move out of the building, just to save them both the awkwardness. . .

He held his breath as he waited for Ellie to tell him to get lost. When she hesitated after saying his name, he looked up just in time to see her leaning in. Morgan didn't even think before kissing her back. Words were hard for him, but this? This he understood. He slid forward in his seat and slid a hand into her hair.

"Ellie," he sighed when he pulled back to catch his breath. "Wait. What-- What do you wanna do, here?" Morgan looked at her with hesitant hope in his eyes. "What do you want?"

And I don't really feel safe around anyone. Ellie can't begin to tell him how much the words resonate with her, and begin to break through. These pieces of him he's offering to her are like shards in her hands--she could dispose of them and be done with it, or she could attempt to put them whole once more, and the decision seems to rest with her alone.

Does she feel used? Maybe a little, but maybe that's also her fault. If she'd paid attention, maybe she'd have seen the truth of it already. Maybe there was just a part of her that so desperately wanted to be useful, to matter to someone, and to matter specifically to him. And even now, as he's apologizing, Ellie wants nothing more than to be of comfort to him, for better or worse.

"Morgan--" Words escape her, and before she can think any further, she's ducked her head slightly to meet him, catching his lips with hers. If she doesn't know how to tell him, maybe she can show him.

Miles pulled up his legs and folded them in front of himself as he watched Cardan let the pixie in. It had taken a while to get used to the stark differences in appearances some Fae had to humans, but now it hardly fazed him. He smiled shyly at the servant and thanked her quietly as she set the tray down.

Dandelion. The affectionate nickname pulled a shy but pleased smile from the boy. It was the kind of thing his father and uncle would've frowned upon, but Miles had loved it from the first time he heard it. Somehow, it always made him feel warm, safe; like how you feel as a child before you know about all of the bad things lurking in the shadows. Whenever Cardan used it, Miles felt young. . .innocent.

He picked at the platter of food and started eating, thinking over the question. Unlike when his parents forced him to attend society functions, Miles knew that this was entirely his choice, that if he said he didn't want to get dressed up and revel, Cardan would leave him to his self-imposed isolation. . . Maybe that was why Miles changed his mind in that moment.

"Actually. . . Yeah. Maybe. I mean, I don't have to stay the whole time. . . Right?" The whole making his own choices and setting boundaries thing was still scary for him; Miles wasn't used to saying 'no' without getting punished. Yet every time he did it, Cardan was supportive, encouraging, even. And each time, he felt a little more confident in telling Cardan what he really wanted. "I thought I could just. . .try. . ."

Such laugh, bubbly and lighthearted in its entirety, has Cardan's lips curling into a growing smile, his eyes shimmering similar to the dark pebbles on the shore of the Isweal, where the grand Tower of Forgetting is situated. It is less that the mortal boy's laugh is contagious, rather than this being one of the exceedingly rare moments when the High King is graced with a short, breathless laugh from Miles' behalf ― Miles who, up to very recently when Flora departed for the north where The Court of Teeth is rooted, has kept to himself and his chambers.

This is a rather pleasant change ― alas, Cardan knows that much like a teapot, shattered and then glued back together, time is of the essence and were he to press the boy too much ( be it with overwhelming affection or merely the pressure of suggesting he went out and enjoyed himself ) the pieces could fall apart as easily as rose petals swayed in the wind. No matter how eager the Fae is to see the youngster carefree and light, much like his peers, burdened with nought but the timeless issues suited for his own age like who to get romantically involved with or what to wear at a revel, he has to be patient.

Patience is a virtue, Balekin would say, particularly fondly after having delivered his punishment and thus having outed his frustration and anger. And though Cardan would rather choke on iron nails than heed the advice of the oldest Greenbriar, this one he is right. Patience is, in fact, a virtue, despite himself always being described as far too capricious and temperamental to be troubled with something as graceful as that.

❛ Good thing I arranged for a small feast, then, ❜ Comes the hummed answer from the High King. Rising from the edge of the bed where he has taken seat, he then rises to travel across the stone floor towards the wooden door of the boy's chambers where he drums his knuckles in an erratic pattern. And as though on cue, a pixie servant with the skin of pastel green, hair the moss of the forest trees, and wings that shimmer in the afternoon light as though stained glass marches in, holding a tray of a teapot, golden acorn glasses, sandwiches with cheese and several smaller cakes.

Placing the tray upon the fur coverlets of the bed, her ink drop black eyes rise to take in Miles' as she lowers herself into a bow, repeats the motion to the High King, who nods in appreciation to her kindness, and then lightly marches her way out, her wings quaking behind her as though flying through a soft breeze. It is not until the door has closed behind her that Cardan's gaze returns to the dark-haired boy and he gestures towards the tray. ❛ It is all yours to enjoy. Now, dandellion, do tell me of your plans for the night. Are you interested in attending tonight's revel at the brugh ? ❜

[ CHOKEHOLD ] sender holds receiver down by the neck while roughly fucking them ( he says he is sorry zanna just likes it )

♥ hurt me ♥

She knew Cardan was nervous about being rough with her at first, but when he finally went for it--God help her. "Fuuuuck, baby," Zanna moaned as he held her down by her throat. She dug her nails in hard and left scratches on his arms, as she rolled her hips in time with his thrusts. "Just like that," she said breathlessly.

♥ hurt me ♥ collection of nsfw prompts involving violence, blood, and all the like. send +reverse to reverse the action.

[ CHOKE ] sender chokes receiver as foreplay

[ CLAW ] sender rakes nails or claws over the receiver's body during

[ KNIFE ] sender holds a knife to the receivers neck drawing blood

[ STEP ] sender has their foot on the receiver's chest, keeping them down

[ CHAINS ] sender chains receiver up to tease them relentlessly

[ STAB ] sender introduces a knife during; causing wounds to the receiver

[ LICK ] sender causes receiver to bleed, licks the blood from the wound

[ SUCK ] sender causes receiver to bleed, hungrily sucking the blood from the wound

[ BITE ] sender trails bites that break skin down receivers body

[ CHOKEHOLD ] sender holds receiver down by the neck while roughly fucking them

[ CLAIM ] sender carves their name into the receiver during

Teen Wolf Starter Call: like for a starter, comment with an emoji if there's a specific muse(s) you want to write with.

Stiles Stilinski 🚙 Malia Hale 🐾 Isaac Lahey 🥍 Allison Argent 🏹 Erica Reyes 🍎 Riley Hale 🌕 Kira Yukimura 🦊 Aria Montgomery 🤫

One day--maybe--Isaac would be able to thank Scott for his seemingly unending patience in dealing with the broken beta. Because even the times Scott didn't get things exactly right, he was always trying to help, and that counted for a lot. It was more than anyone had done for him in a long time.

Isaac snorted at Scott's offer and nodded, fighting a grin of his own. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go get some food." He gave Scott a light shove as they started walking, feeling some of the emotional storm clouds clear a little. At least for now.

"Derek would've yelled at me," Isaac confessed softly. "He did. A lot. . . You know, when we were getting out of control. And I get it, you know, he was trying to get us ready for the stuff that was coming, and he didn't know what else to do. Still. . ." Isaac glanced over at Scott and bumped their shoulders together. "It's nice having an alpha that does it differently."

there's a learning curve with all of this, a minefield to navigate, and scott's still figuring it out. treading with care, wary of any misstep that could do more harm than good. he'd gotten this much right : a softer approach, empathy over aggression, and isaac's pulse is finally starting to level.

" hey. it's okay. " not the core of it, maybe, but that's not what scott means. it's okay to have a bad day. to feel what he's feeling without reproach, or shame, because it's a lot. and he doesn't have to apologize for it. not here, not today. not ever again, if scott can help it.

he has to tamp down the instinct to reach out, in case it's too soon for that. in case isaac isn't ready to accept it yet — any kind of physical contact that he isn't used to, a gentle hand instead of an angry one.

the whole thing makes scott heartsick.

" c'mon. i was thinking about stopping for some food on the way home. i've got, like, " a pause, the uptick of a little half - grin, " ten bucks, maybe? we can make it work. totally. "

Thaddeus Nightwell is the purest definition of "He's a little confused, but he's got the right spirit" when it comes to the LGBT community. He understands what the letters stand for, in terms of the words themselves, but beyond that--well, that's where we get into the confused territory. He was nothing but supportive when Zephyr came out as bisexual, and when Zephyr made friends with closeted kids and brought them over, Thaddeus always made sure they knew they were welcome in his home anytime.

However. When he heard about demisexual, he took that 'demi' quite literally, and asked with full seriousness which half of the person was sexual and which half was not. Thankfully, it was just him and Zephyr, so there was no one to roll their eyes at that. However, when a girl Zephyr brought home told his dad she was pansexual, his (again quite serious) reply was, "Well, I don't understand how cookware can get a person going, but I guess different strokes for different folks-- Why are you kids laughing?" Zephyr and his friends were laughing too hard to answer for a good five minutes. Thad doesn't always understand, but he's always accepting, and that was really all any of them needed. Plus Zephyr's friends enjoyed the dad jokes.

Nap, then I'll be on to do things. Feel free to send memes 😘

source: unknown

New Muse Starter Call: like this post if you want a Starter from any of my newest muses; comment their emoji if you have a specific one(s) you want!!

Declan Callaghan ☘️

Luke Warren 🕶

Zephyr Nightwell 😈

Nia Harper 💅

Morgan's hackles immediately raised at the mention of a hospital, but he relaxed again when Nathan followed up with knowing that wasn't an option. He offer was yet another kindness the stranger had no reason to extend, and Morgan was incredibly grateful.

I HAVE AN APARTMENT. I CAN WRITE DOWN THE ADDRESS. IF YOU'RE SURE YOU DON'T MIND?

Note read and acknowledged with a nod. Nathan pulled the tool from around his neck and dropped it onto his desk, and dropped himself into his chair a second later. Hands folded on his chest as he turned in a swivel, back and forth, for a long and thoughtful moment.

" Huh... Well, I don't have any kind of protocol for this. I guess getting you to a hospital would be the best thing, but, " he held his hand up, motioning for Morgan not to freak out, " we've already established that's a no-go. So, just going to ask, do you have anywhere you can go? You need a lift? "

Incubus/Succubus Thrall

Something Zephyr's mom Lorelei made very clear to him early on was that lust is earned. Incubi and succubi feed on a person's sexual energy; the stronger that person's desire is, the more energy there is to feed on. Incubi and succubi can technically use their thrall to force that attraction so they can feed, but Lorelei told him only the weak had to resort to such measures, and it was a poor supply of energy anyway. His mother's motto: it's either enthusiastic consent or it's a bold no.

On a base level, there's an aura around them that draws people in--but only people who would already find them attractive. There's a step up from this, where an incubus or succubus could nudge someone who's obviously interested to actually follow through on their desires. Then, there's the intentional manipulation; this can either be used to simply make a person do whatever the incubus/succubus wants, or it can be used to force that person into bed with them. Zephyr generally relies on his natural aura and personal charm, but every now and then he uses his thrall to give someone the final push they need to sleep with him. He only ever uses the full force of his thrall to get out of risky situations--or manipulate assholes--but he will never ever use it to force sex.

Isaac's shoulders tensed, bracing for Scott to defend Stiles, to tell Isaac he was overreacting. . . Only he didn't do that. Isaac's shoulders relaxed and his breathing started to slow down as he listened to Scott empathize with him, validate his frustration and pain.

He rubbed his eyes roughly, determined not to start crying on the damn lacrosse field. It was always like this with Scott; Isaac covered his pain up with anger, and Scott calmly coaxed out what he was actually feeling.

After taking a few steadying breaths, he was finally able to look at the alpha again. "Sorry," he said in a rough voice. ". . . I'm having a bad day." It was a damn understatement, but it was all he could say without breaking down.

In contrast to his earlier outburst, he seemed deflated, hollowed out. Isaac nodded and hung his head. "Yeah. Let's go." He didn't care where they went, just that they go.

scott follows a few strides behind him. close, but without invading his space a second time. he's still too angry. too on edge, too riled up, and his heart rate isn't getting any steadier. isn't slowing at all, even with this much distance. all scott can do for a minute is let him get it out — let him unload, and scream, and do whatever he has to do to bleed some of that fury out of him. his scent is sharp and metallic. bitter, like blood.

biting at the inside of his cheek, hands pushed into his pockets, scott swallows around the dry rasp in his throat. " i know. and you're right, he doesn't, but that's why he said it. because he doesn't get it. but i don't think — " it cuts off, again. he knows that it won't make a difference, that intent doesn't offset impact. stiles said what he said, and it landed the way it did, and nothing that scott can tell isaac now will erase that, whether stiles had meant it maliciously or not.

he winces. takes half a step closer, nothing more. testing the waters. " no one thinks it's a joke, " he tells him, more quietly. " it's not. at least not to me. he shouldn't have said it like that. " or at all. " my dad's not — he wasn't the same as yours, but he wasn't like stiles'. not at all. and i wouldn't want anybody throwing that in my face, either. "

a beat. a breath drawn in and blown out as that second half of a step is taken, closing a little more of the gap between them. he stops just outside arm's reach. " hey. i'll talk to stiles, okay? let's just get out of here for now. "

"God, no, that's-- It's not about you taking care of me, it's really not. It's-- You're--" How could he explain it to her in a way she would understand? "I wasn't trying to use you, Ellie. . . But I guess that doesn't really matter, if you feel used, anyway." He finally met her gaze again, so much emotion he couldn't express shining in his dark eyes.

". . . You care," he said finally with desperation in his voice. "You're gentle, and you're kind, and you're honest. When I'm with you, I feel. . . safe. And I don't really feel safe around anyone," Morgan admitted in a small voice. "I didn't tell you the truth, because I like you. . . And it didn't feel right to make you keep this secret for someone you barely knew. . . But tonight, you got so freaked out about something being wrong, and I-I. . I really didn't know what else to do."

Morgan looked down at his lap, eyes fixed on the bloodstain on his jeans. "I really never meant to make you feel used. I'm sorry. . . And if you don't want anything to do with me after this, I-I get it, and I promise I won't bother you anymore." He would miss her soft voice and her smile, but Morgan would respect whatever she wanted. Ellie deserved at least that much.

She tries to listen...tries to hear him as he speaks. To understand. But all she can do is stare at the smear of blood on his jeans, and consider the gravity of the current situation. Morgan healed faster than reason allowed, and she actually considered pinching herself to see if she was dreaming. It was the only thing that made any logical sense, right? That this wasn't real?

But then he's talking about that first time. Ellie hadn't really known much about him, other than that he was a courteous neighbor. Always helpful when she needed a hand with groceries, always polite when they passed one another. It had been pure luck, she'd thought, that it was her door he'd stumbled through. Maybe it had been, but she remembered that it hadn't taken him long to bounce back from that instance, either. God, had she been a fool?

"So you come to me...because I take care of you?" She asked quietly after a moment. Ellie isn't sure if she wants to be sitting here with him at the moment, or if she wants to pace. "Why didn't...why didn't you just...ask?" She finally looked to meet his eye. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Ben laughed bitterly at the question. "You already know the answer, don't you? I mean, that's why we're doing this. . ." He closed his eyes for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh. "I know that I ate a regular amount of food for a guy who works out as much as I do. . . But there's this voice in my head telling me I ate too damn much, and I have to run until I puke so I don't get any fatter than I already am," he said with another bitter laugh. "Which I know makes no sense, but it's-- I can't--" Ben looked up and exhaled heavily, trying not to start crying in his frustration. "I know you said I'm. .every Brazilian soccer player hot, or whatever, but I look in the mirror and I still just see that stupid, fat, loser." And I hate him, Ben thought.

At Ben's words, Richie gave a nod. 'Look, man, it's under control . . .' Hearing words that he had said about his addiction repeated back to himself from a friend made him want to crawl out of his skin. He settled for reaching into his coat pocket for his cigarettes. If the roles were reversed Richie would've wanted to be left the fuck alone about it, but that wouldn't have been helpful. On second thought, it might have been nice to hear an actual friend voicing their concern. He looked back over at Ben. ❝And now?❞ He asked. He put a cigarette between his lips, lit it, and took a long draw.