Can i get some uhhhhhhhh 2Doc nsfw with 2D as a maid? 🅱️ank you
first of all, what the fuck is this??? Second of all??? Idk why I’m writing this?????? I have lost all credibility as a writer and I’ve had this blog for two (2) days
2D tilted his head and frowned, inspecting his reflection in the mirror. It was still missing something. He scratched his head before remembering the pièce de résistance. His headpiece. He snatched the frilly lace bonnet from his windowsill and placed it gingerly amidst his blue tufts of hair poking out in every which direction. He reevaluated himself in the mirror, nitpicking at every detail, and eventually gave himself a large, toothy grin. He felt inexplicable about his new fetish for being a servant. He had never realized how much he enjoyed being belittled, demeaned and barked at. Of course, he knew that Murdoc’s behavior towards him wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t help feeling a little aroused at times when Murdoc would call him names. The times when Murdoc secretly showed kindness after being particularly rude were the times that 2D fantasized about. Before the events of plastic beach, Murdoc and 2D had a mutual relationship that functioned pretty much in this fashion. 2D missed those days on more than one occasion. Things were getting better with Murdoc. They weren’t perfect—2D still had panic attacks on occasion due to Murdoc—but they were improving. The two of them went to counseling together, which helped a great deal. Today happened to be one of those days that 2D yearned for his old relationship with Murdoc. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he imagined all of the things Murdoc could say to him; all of the things Murdoc could do to him. He closed his eyes, allowing his fantasies to run wild.
“Oi, what the hell are ya wearin’, faceache?” a gruff voice spat from the doorway. “Muds! I d-didn’t fink yew were gonna b-be home yet!” 2D sputtered, both embarrassed and aroused. “Ya didn’t answer my question,” Murdoc slurred, making it apparent to 2D that he was drunker than usual. “I was just, erm, tryin’ it on…for fun I s'pose,” 2D said, looking down and scuffing his toe into the floor dejectedly. “Well,” Murdoc drawled on, taking a few steps closer as he talked, “you don’t really have the figure to pull it off, not rrrreally. Your shoulders look too bony, and your legs are too skinny. But…you’ve got a good enough butt,” Murdoc continued, objectifying 2D like he was a hatstand. 2D’s lust-filled eyes met Murdoc’s. “Oh, I -I-I see what it is,” Murdoc stumbled across his words, inching closer to 2D until his hot, booze-scented breath grazed his face, “you need someone to contrrrol you. You want someone to teach you a lesson…make you behave…” Murdoc continued, whispering heavily with a scratchy voice. 2D nodded, “That would be nice,” 2D replied his voice nearly cracking, and his breathing heavy. Murdoc hummed gutterally, “Well, aren’t you lucky, because I’m in just the mood to provide,” he tantalized. “You know what you are?” Murdoc questioned playfully as he circled 2D, soaking in his subservient appearance. “Wha’ would that be, Murdoc?” 2D replied. “A dirty. Little. Whore. And not much more than that,” Murdoc responded grinning and smacking 2D’s ass firmly. 2D’s sharp intake of breath pleased Murdoc who enjoyed feeling powerful and controlling. Murdoc’s words stung a little, but 2D knew it was all part of the game he craved playing with Murdoc. “Ya know what you’re gonna call me?” Murdoc grunted softly into 2D’s ear. “Wha’?” 2D whispered. “Sir. Now say it,” Murdoc commanded. “Yes, sir,” 2D said, complying. “Oh gooooood, you like to behave. That’ll pay off well for ya,” Murdoc teased with a devilish smirk as he kicked the backs of 2D’s knees, causing them to buckle and 2D to drop to the floor. “I just wanted to see ya on your knees,” Murdoc explained, “and I like what I see,” he carried on. Murdoc stepped in front of 2D, getting a thrill from the sight of 2D beneath him. He slapped 2D’s cheek gently but firmly. “Do you know what you have to do now?” Murdoc quizzed with a smirk. “Yes, sir,” 2D replied. “Beg for it,” Murdoc commanded, clenching a fistful of 2D’s silky, blue hair from the back of his neck. “Murdoc, please, I really want yew, please let suck your dick, I really want it,” 2D groveled. “Oooohh is that sooo?” Murdoc retorted, unbuckling his belt. Quickly, 2D took over for him, unzipping and removing his pants for him—after all, a maid is supposed to do the work. “May I please have it?” 2D said staring at Murdoc’s bulging underwear. “I don’t know, have you been a good enough boy?” Murdoc patronized, giving 2D another firm slap. “Please, sir, I’ll do anything,” 2D continued to snivel. “Anything? Well I’ll keep that in mind,” Murdoc taunted, “but for now, I think you’ve earned it.” “Thank yew, sir,” 2D sighed with relief. 2D immediately got to work pleasuring Murdoc. Murdoc tilted his head back and moaned in ecstasy, praising 2D when he did a particularly good job. “You’re doing such a good job, D, you’re being a really good boy,” Murdoc moaned. 2D, enthused by Murdoc’s compliments, sped up his pace and began to run Murdoc’s length as he sucked. Murdoc’s eyes rolled back into his head, and his breathing became ragged and uneven. “Stu, oh hail Satan, Stu don’t stop,” Murdoc cried, his knees becoming weak. 2D continued, attempting to deepthroat as he sucked. “Come on, D, you can manage,” Murdoc cooed from above as he gently guided 2D’s head farther towards him. “There ya go, attaboy,” Murdoc praised between staggered breaths as 2D finally succeeded in deepthroating. “Keep going, I’m so close,” Murdoc growled. Murdoc thrusted into 2D’s mouth one final time before finishing on, well, pretty much everything. “Oh sweet Lucifer,” Murdoc groaned as he released, before glancing down at the mess he’d created and chuckling. He gently pet 2D’s head and kneeled down to kiss him. “You did a good job, ya know,” Murdoc said, showering 2D in affection, “now, let’s get this cleaned up, shall we?”
Hands down my favorite episode of the season so I don’t think I need much preamble.
Favorite Costume: Bonnie Prince Charlie’s highland regalia. It’s the kind of costume that is so outrageous it could only be plucked right out of history––a famous portrait of the Bonnie Prince, to be exact. The vibrant tartan, the gold lace details, the blue bonnet… There is certainly no missing him among the more subdued (and well worn) tartans of his men. Even the Lord General and the Quartermaster don’t stand out with the same level of… flair.
Favorite “That’s not in the book” Part: Dougal’s ride. I love so much about this scene and how it demonstrates the tension of waiting for battle, of being within sight of your enemy but unable to reach them; the need to keep things light but also the agony of waiting. Dougal’s return is so triumphant and morale boosting despite the fact that the ground proves too treacherous for the attack the Quartermaster wanted. Even as Dougal his chance to prove himself to an enthusiastic Prince Charles––who has already made an impression on Rupert and Angus––he manages to clash with Jamie at a low level (just how close to the British troops he would get), showing that he’s still bristling under the fact that he reports to his nephew. The weaving of the overt and the subtle throughout the scenes is incredibly handled and to top it all off, it’s beautifully shot.
Favorite Location: the makeshift hospital. We’ve seen Claire at work in a number of different hospital settings through the series so far and she’s held her own in all of them, but nowhere has she been more commanding than in the makeshift hospital giving her instructions to the women under her charge. As she makes jokes and explains the importance of more modern medical practices to women with little to no training––the handful of other wives accompanying husbands, maybe a mother, sister, or daughter here or there, but all of them with men in their lives preparing to make and become the wounded they will tend––Claire is in her element and leading those women as much as Jamie is as Red Jamie, Laird Broch Tuarach leading the charge.
Favorite Music Moment, Favorite Scene: the battle. Every time I watch this scene, I love it more. It is so cinematic in its execution and the music is so important to establishing the atmosphere of the scene that the two are permanently intertwined. Every time the Prestonpans track comes on when I’m listening to the soundtrack, those first few drum beats… I get goosebumps and distracted from whatever I’m doing to listen properly because I immediately start visualizing the fog and the men moving swiftly until they sound like a stampede, I see Claire and the other women whipping their heads around as they hear the battle begin. It conveys the violence of the battle without glorifying it or trying to be shocking with the gore (and thank heaven for that last one or I wouldn’t be able to watch it so often).
Favorite Jamie and Claire Moment: reunited and victorious. While their goodbyes are heartbreaking, their reunions are glorious. I can watch this one over and over again with my mind just chanting, “print shop, print shop.” The smiles when their eyes find each other and they realize they’re both alive and appear to be all right and then that hug… If this is how they reunite when they’ve been away from each other for a few hours (dangerous as they may have been), I can’t wait to see how the reunion plays out when they’ve been away from each other for twenty years.
Favorite Minor Character, Favorite Line: the brief return of Lt. Forster and his advice to Dougal. I still remember how surprised I was when I heard Lt. Forster calling out to Dougal as he was busy finishing off British wounded. I was not expecting him to make a return to the show––though I’m thrilled that they thought to bring him back––and I most certainly wasn’t expecting Dougal to actually go ahead and kill him in cold blood like that. Part of me wonders if Dougal would have spared Lt. Forster––probably not helped him to the infirmary but you know, not killed him––if Lt. Forster hadn’t said what he did, if he hadn’t been so brutally honest in delivering my favorite line of the episode: “A war chief should know better.” It’s just antagonistic enough, I think that’s what sealed poor Lt. Forster’s fate.
Favorite Book to Screen Adaptation: the pissing contest. Despite how long the book spends on the battle of Prestonpans, there’s surprisingly little taken directly from the page in the episode. But one scene that is from the book that I love is Jamie reaching out to the British captured and wounded and working to establish a sense of camaraderie through Claire’s request that Jamie piss in a beaker so she can be sure his kidneys aren’t bleeding. After all the tension before the battle and of course the adrenaline of the battle itself, it provides all the men with some much-needed levity.
Favorite Performance: Stephen Walters as Angus Mohr. How can I not choose Walters in his final turn as Angus? He starts off the episode as his pushing-it-too-far Angus self, struggling to deal with the prospect of what might happen and how to express his affection for his best friend within the bounds of their dynamic; they are as close as Ross and Kincaid but the ways they express that friendship are incredibly different, yet Angus is able to see through their gestures what the men mean to each other and he wants Rupert to know what their friendship means to him, though it comes across almost as a joke (because that’s the way their friendship works), in a similar manner to how he plays the danger up to steal that kiss from Claire. But just as Ross carried the body of Kincaid into the field hospital, Angus makes sure Rupert gets to Claire and he makes sure Claire treats Rupert immediately. The anguish and fear on his face are heartbreaking and the dedication with which he watches over Rupert, the respect he shows to Ross in the wake of Kincaid’s death, they show how deeply Angus can and does feel things. And of course there’s the heart-rending death scene.
Honorable Mention for Music Moment: Ross and Rupert sing. The song is technically meant to be a cheery one and that’s how most of the men celebrating the victory seem to take it, cheering the drunk pair on but to those who know both men and the losses they’ve suffered, the metaphorical lyrics weigh heavy with a far more literal meaning. And the scene’s abrupt cut to the credits is fitting for all the bitterness of war, regardless of which side you wind up on.
I forgot how much I like this dress. It’s simple but kind of bold at the same time. I love it. And I want to make something with tartan fabric again soon!
This was sewn last November from eight yards of fall fashion fabric and some vintage lace. I think total material costs were $52. I drafted the patterns and made the dress myself. This week I fixed it up a little, which involved hemming it and making the lace bonnet/half bonnet.
I’m so excited to finally get to wear this, even if it’s just to get some photos of it!
Based on three different requests posted to the castlefanfics prompt blog. Set in season two between ‘Den of Thieves’ and ‘Food to Die For’. You can also read this story at FF.net.
Castle and Beckett go undercover at the dude ranch before they are a couple.
She tries her best to be a good sport about it all when they enter the store, even though she’s still reeling from the shock of the past few minutes. The wedding band that’s been unceremoniously placed on her finger feels foreign, like a lifetime sentence that’s an odd combination of horrifying and exciting.
When the last word skirts across her mind, Kate stops so suddenly that Castle momentarily stumbles, using a well placed table to regain his balance. Very carefully he retracts his arm from hers, eyes flashing a bit of concern that she just can’t be bothered with right now.
It’s not exciting to be saddled up with a wannabe cowboy in a pretend marriage. It’s absolutely not.
The gold band on her finger feels just a little tighter to her overworked mind when Grady’s wife, who has introduced herself as Daisy Mae, beckons for her to follow to the opposite side of the store. Already, Kate can see flowing yards of fabric and lace, white petticoats and bonnets, corsets that make her squirm at the idea of the restricted movement they would present.
Still, there’s some small section of her brain that finds them appealing and she wonders what strapping one on might do for a figure built tall and slim like her own.
Pondering the merits of a corset have to wait when her blonde helper selects a lilac dress with navy trim from a hook on the wall, grin a bit too eager and excited for Kate to have to dash her dreams of floor length skirts and flowered hats.
“No, I’m sorry but I don’t……” Kate pauses, scrunching up her nose to find the most delicate way to phrase her reluctance for a dress and neither offend the woman or blow her ulterior motive for being at the ranch, “That really isn’t my style,” is what she settles on, gritting her teeth for the untrue part of the story both at lying to a woman who seems very nice and that she even has to say the words at all, “And my husband really prefers something more form fitting.”