I'M JUMPING OFF A BRIDGE

I'M JUMPING OFF A BRIDGE

So, yeah, mother Miranda again here for you all ♡

“Come for me.”

Playing dangerous - Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 10: First date

Summary:

Definitely NOT the worst date they could have.

Eveline sits calmly at the edge of her mother's bed , swiftly kicking her legs forward, as she hums a long forgotten melody while hoping that her mother would come out of the bathroom already. The girl has grown incredible bored, waiting for Miranda to finally get ready with her peaky clothing style. Such an act  can be a bit exhausting for her short spawn of interest, but she manages to be patient. She's on a mission after all. 

It took Miranda almost an hour to cut the question of what exactly she wants to wear for her special date with you to exactly two decisions. Then Eveline almost gave up when she spent the next twenty minutes in wondering which of the two almost identical dresses to put on. At least her variety of shoes wasn't too great, as the woman is mainly keen on heels. It's not like she goes outside often anyhow. 

Going through her four different jewelry boxes ,  though , was the hardest battle Eveline had to participate in. Because in that  Miranda is really fond of. The way the little girl's eye was twitching in annoyance every time her mother asked her if she liked how a certain necklace or a bracelet looked on her could be seen from miles away. It took her a lot of self control not to excuse herself out her the room and leave at the very second. 

Now , however, her struggles seem to come to an end. As the bathroom door finally swings open and Miranda walks out with her hair and makeup done , which is a relief for Eveline. The last two steps in Miranda's getting routine are finally done. 

Per usual her golden hair , which shines even more brightly now that is freshly dyed, is slicked back, leaving only a few thin strands of honey coloured strings to wander over her face. Her smokey eyeshadow has a hint of red to it , nothing too much as she likes to keep it simple, but yet dark. The same goes for her mascara, nothing too heavy or clumped. The black , slightly winged eyeliner she's wearing gives a nice touch of sharpness to her makeup , and her face in general, as if she doesn't look mean enough already. Her lips are definitely more simply organised, but the light colour of a red lipstick is still present. 

"You look beautiful, mother" - Eveline has always adored her mother's beauty. And not once has she caught herself wishing she can grow out to look like her more. 

"So do you, sweetheart" - the girl smiles as her mother places a soft, loving kiss on her forehead. Miranda likes compliments, however instead of being thankful for them she often returns the flavour by praising the person who decided to compliment her as well. It's an old habit of hers that stayed over the years. 

Miranda looks at her reflection in the mirror and her lips curl up in a smile, pleased with the chosen outfit. The dress she's wearing is floor lengthed, made of a rich, dark, green fabric, the skirt loose with a high slit on the side. She lifts her arms to observe the long sleeves that fall past the wrist, and breaths in, her eyes locked in the slightly deeper  neckline her current dress has, unlike her others. The fabric is thin and flowy, almost like silk, but it’s much darker in color. It’s elegant, and perfect for a fancy event. She finds herself hoping it will fit your liking. 

The tall woman takes a few steps to her large wardrobe and begins to search through her clothes for maybe the  hundredth time this evening. The black haired girl knows her mother is keen on fashion, yet she can't help but wonder how does she never get tired of looking at all those fabrics, trying to find the tiniest difference in between them.

"Which coat should i get, Evie?" - the girl rolls her eyes at yet another question about what she prefers. At least this time she's lucky, because her options do have their differences. In her right head Miranda holds a long , dark leather coat while in her left she presents to the girl a shorter one , with a bit more fur to it. 

"Why?" - Eveline crosses her legs on the bed , tilting her head in Miranda's direction, lost in wonder of why is her mother suddenly deciding to wear coats when she usually doesn't - "You don't get cold." 

"But she does, sweetheart." - one of the two outer garments lands with a tug on the bed covers close to Eveline, with a little bit of closer observation the girl finds the leather coat positioned next to her - "And i don't want to be rude." 

A mere excuse Miranda uses to hide her affection. It forces a smile out of Eveline. 

"I'm not sure i like this necklace enough..." - the girl's smile drops down in disappointment and she grimaces when her mother removes the golden chain from around her neck and walks to her vanity, where a pile of rejected jewelry stays untouched - "Maybe i should try another one." 

Eveline won't allow herself to go through that again. She's quick to jump off the bed ans speedily marsh to the closed door. Miranda looks distressed with her daughter leaving her. 

"You go ahead and do that, mom" - Eveline waves her hand in the air , already with one leg out of the room , back now completely turned to the woman inside - "I'm going to let her know you're ready." 

Miranda isn't mad at Eveline for disappearing. In fact, she can't help the big smile that appears on her face as the girl exits her chamber. She has always called her 'mother' , but never 'mom'. She feels unfamiliar warmth inside her chest, knowing that the awful distance between them is slowly but surely melting away. 

***** 

You swiftly open your door the moment you hear the double knocking on the wooden surface from the outside. And you smile. Eveline's eyes sparkle in excitement as you allow her to come in. 

"So?" - you urge her to give you information while you make sure noone with noisy ears is hiding in the corridor. Then you close the door and turn to the girl in front of you that is practically jumping in need to talk to you. 

"Green." - she burps out , then as she sees you getting confused she clears her throat and tries again, arms crossed in a series manner - "She'll be wearing a green dress. Very classy. Oh, and a lot of jewelry." 

Eveline shakes at the memory of having to share her opinion on which earrings match more with her mother's dress , despite them being almost identical in the girl's eyes. 

You nod your head , heading to your wardrobe, in hope you can try to find something in the same colour palette. You've made a deal with Eveline last night, you convinced her to spy on Miranda, then run to you and share in details what the woman is planning to wear. So you can choose something similar and both of you can so unexpectedly match. In reality you just really, really  want this date to be perfect. 

Your fingertips brush against several different to the touch fabrics  before your eyes spot a darkish colour, wandering at the back of your drawer. You manage to grab it and you observe it closely. A dark green, sleeveless vest. 

"How about this?" - you turn around in order to show it to Eveline. 

"Oh, that's the same shade !" - she exclaims happily. And suddenly your confidence about how the date will go grows up, you can even bet it's going to be an amazing night. 

"I think i can style it with those..." - you pull out a pair of milky, white coloured,  fair pants along with nicely thick, dark belt. You place the two pieces of clothing together in front of your body , tilting your head towards Eveline - "What do you think?" 

"Try it on!" - she urges you, already pushing you to your bathroom door , making both of you to giggle. 

A few minutes later you come out with your freshly new outfit. To be honest you like how the colours go with eachother, the pants have always been one of your favourites , meanwhile the vest hugs your chest perfectly. You hope you look good enough for Miranda's taste. 

"Well?" - you shove your hands in your pockets. 

"Very pretty." - she gives you an encouraging smile which you return - "I'm sure mother will love you." 

"Yeah, I'm counting on that." - you grin , turning around to face the mirror. You do look good. You've decided not to go too big with hairstyle or makeup since you don't want to overdo it and force a bad impression of yourself in Miranda's mind. You don't want to make it look like you crave her praise and approval. Even though you're ready to have an inner battle with yourself if you actually do or don't - "Alright, i think I'm ready. Just let me grab a jacket real quick and-" 

"No jackets." - her voice comes out so harsh, yet unlikely for her panicked, it almost makes you shiver. But it definitely catches you off guard. 

"What?" - you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - "Why?" 

"It's going to be warm , no need for that." - she begins to explain, moving her hands nervously around as she talks - "Besides you won't go anywhere else rather the car , the restaurant and then back in the car , right?" 

"You have a point" - you agree with her , retreating your right hand that was just about to pull out a long jacket from your wardrobe. You give the mirror one last look before grabbing your purse and heading out of your room with Eveline. Downstairs, where Miranda awaits you. 

You stroke the base of your throat, already feeling nervous. A tug on your arm makes you stop and you look down at the little girl who lowers her voice to a whispering tone as she opens her mouth to speak. 

"Mother is not very good...at dating." - a pause follows with a concerned expression - "Well at romance, in general. But please, make sure to treat her right." 

Eveline quickly gets assured you will. Because that's your only goal for tonight. To show Miranda that you can and will treat her right. 

***** 

You can feel a rapidly burning sensation, starting from the tip of your ears and ending somewhere in the middle of your face , lost in starting sparks of a wild fire. It's not embarrassment, or shyness. It's a different feeling, unique type of admiration that fills  your chest, making it tight and vulnerable, as the air in the room is simply not enough. It's Miranda. 

She stands like a living statue, only good for worshipping. Your knees are eager to kiss the floor in front of her in order to give your hands the freedom to show her your devotion, perhaps your mouth will help as well. The exited look in her pupils hints she might order you to do exactly that. 

"How thrilling..." - the sound of her voice has always been a pleasant melody for your ears - melancholic, sweet, calm. And relentlessly rough when it needs to be. Miranda takes a step closer to you, moving away from the main entrance of the mansion and the little blonde girl with honey coloured hair that give you a sharp look. 

She observes you closely. Your clothes, your bare hands , devoid of fancy jewelry unlike hers , your legs, your chest, face...her eyes linger everywhere , boldly narrowing their focus in the parts of you Miranda finds the most alluring. Perhaps if you weren't so busy trying to ignore her staring,  you would have seen her tongue wandering over her lips. 

"We match." - you feel a tug on the edge of the green vest, the woman cunningly covers her gesture with the convincing lie that she wishes to fix your top a little bit, though both of you ignore how her fingers slip underneath the fabric , tender fingertips brushing against your abdomen - "What a lovely coincidence." 

"You look stunning, Miranda." - not being sure in what exactly to answer her , you decide to play safe and go for a compliment. There's nothing wrong with that , but your mistake is that you whisper it to her for some reason. Maybe too afraid her daughter will judge you. 

"Your timidness is adorable." - you like the way her lips spill in a curved smile , for the first time you feel unbothered by her mocking voice, yet something inside your stomach shifts in a tingling manner when she also leans to whisper, as if her words are sinful- "You're adorable, darling." 

The urge to pin her to the nearest wall and kiss her until she's breathless might happen to be greater than your will to take her on a nice date , in hope to learn more about her. You only thank the two girls that stare at you, in slight disgust, which prevent you from doing that. Eveline clears her throat, caughting both yours and Miranda's attention. 

"Me and Eva were discussing..." - she starts, arms folded in front of her chest. 

"Not this again-". - the blonde woman's eyes roll backwards in annoyance. 

"We both think we're old enough to be left home alone." - she continues to explain, meanwhile Eva nods her head encouragingly towards her mother - "You can trust us for a few hours, it's going to be okay." 

"We'll be safe , mommy" - the younger sister joins in the conversation - "I promise." 

"I'm not leaving you alone." - Miranda is determined to end this conversation rather harsh and quickly than having to explain to her daughters how she's insanely afraid someone will harm them while she's away , despite their home being kilometres away from the nearest person alive - "Alcina and her daughters are already waiting for you anyway, you don't want to disappoint them now , do you sweethearts?" 

Eveline wrinkles her nose , a completely different reaction from her sisters , which smiles from ear to ear, clearly eager to return to the said place. 

"I love going to the castle!" - she makes her liking to the old looking structure very visible - "And Alcina is so nice. She even lets us drink from her wine." 

"She does what now?" - you always admire Miranda's protective nature that awaken inside her over her daughters , even when it's unnecessarily needed, like currently. However, you're not exactly in the mood for another lecture of hers , about how alcohol is bad for them , as they are still children. 

Your fingers tug on her elbow, forcing Miranda to shift her attention back to you. You look at her from beneath your eyelashes, silently begging her to not start a scene. She furrows her eyebrows. You dig your fingertips into the green fabric of her sleeve, making sure she can feel the pressure on her skin from underneath. And you purse your lips, as she gives you another warning glare. 

She sighs in in a relenting manner after a few moments of a silent battle between the two of you. And you grin , counting the way she walks past her daughters ,ignoring them, as a win. She's hard to convince, yet for you she melts easily.

"In the car. Now." - it is a command for both the girls and you, included. Noone dares to argue with the lady of the house and the three of you follow behind her like lost puppies through the double doors, making sure to sit patiently in the car while she locks the main entrance. 

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.

.

The road trip to Alcina's castle seems a little bit shorter than you last remember it. It's either a different path you're taking or Miranda just drives more fiercely than you do. The fact that she's in a hurry to drop off her children and take you to the booked restaurant gives you hope that she's just as eager as you are for tonight's date. 

You enjoy the short conversation you manage to keep up with the girls from the backseat. They explain in details what they have planned for their current sleepover, turns out their ideas are quite interesting, you find yourself hyped to maybe spend more time within the strange castle and get to know the  residents. 

Miranda also tries to join in your little talks , however her attention is more focused on the road , as she's a careful driver. You can't help but notice she looks rather distressed, but you suppress the desire to extend a hand and hold  her leg, that has been shaking in anxiety almost the whole drive through. Is she nervous for the date or is she just mad about earlier? You find it difficult to decide. 

The trip to the restaurant, after she successfully delivered her children in Alcina's caring hands , is dead silent. In fact, so devoid of any sounds at all that you struggle to keep your eyes on the road in front of you. Instead you stare down at your lap , where you nervously play with your fingers , lost in thoughts of what exactly can you think of in order to  bring Miranda's mood back up. 

You don't even realise that it's been a few minutes now that the car hasn't moved , or that you're currently in an almost empty parking lot. The only thing  bringing you back to reality is the feeling of two eyes staring right at your soul and then a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

"Darling?" - you can't help the way your chest warms up when she calls for you, the hand on your shoulder brushes to the side , past your collerbone and ends up on your cheek, you lean into her touch - "Do you wish  to go back home?" 

It's only now that you acknowledge the fancy building in front of you, the shining title of the restaurant illuminating on the car's dark windows. You've already came this far , no need to go back to the lonely mansion. 

"No, I-" - you stop, because you're almost certain it's Miranda who is devoid of the desire to spend her evening in that place , judging by the expression on her face - "Do you?" 

She gifts you a smile, as she leans closer. Your lips are begging for hers , for her sweet lipstick on them , for a loving kiss. She doesn't do it. You feel disappointed when she just shoves you aside and you hear a click. Your car door opens. Miranda is tall enough to be able to stretch between her seat and your door with ease. Then she unbuckles  your seatbelt for you. 

You don't need any further invite, nor does she give it to you. You both walk silently into the restaurant, with the only difference that she takes the decision to take your hand in hers. And you make sure to tangle your fingers together. 

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.

.

"You're quiet , Miranda." - you voice out , looking at the woman across from you. The table between you and her is large , too large for your personal taste. You truly wish to be closer to her. No distance, however, can hide her motionless expression. You would say she's bored , if you didn't know better - "What's the matter?" 

"I'm feeling fine." - she assures you, dragging the bottom of her wine glass on the table, gently shaking it - forcing the red liquid to stir. She hums. - "My mind seems to be wandering somewhere else, that's all." 

You put your fork down. And you frown. You desire all of her attention focused on you. You stare at her side of the table. Empty. With only a half full glass of wine. 

"Order something." - you suggest, letting your eyes to wander around the different tables, in search for the waiter. Poor young boy , so terrified of Miranda, just for getting her the wrong sort of wine. - "Perhaps the food will help you?" 

"I'm not hungry, darling." - your lips almost instantly part to argue, yet you hesitate. The woman is unreal. She's in luck you're into her. And you can't stay mad for long at someone you like. 

"Look , if you're not keen on the menu they have here." - you tap on the surface of the table, making her head tilt towards you. - "We can always go to another restaurant and-" 

"I love this restaurant." - she declares, blinking slowly. Your eye twitches in annoyance. 

"Then why are you not eating anything?" - you feel uncomfortable being the only one to have a nicely decorated plate in front of you. The food is delicious, you don't understand why Miranda decided to have nothing of it. - "Why are you so-" 

Cold. Distant. Afraid even. It's clear to everyone that Miranda is slightly distressed sitting in this restaurant, on the large table with carefully detailed chairs. With you. She can't even look you in the eyes , let alone try to form a conversation. 

"A believe I've made a mistake." - she lifts her head , dark blue eyes glaring at you fiercely from beneath her eyelashes. She bites her lower lip. The expression on her face is an unfamiliar portrait of vulnerability. 

"What kind of mistake?" - her hand moves upwards and she wraps it around the base of her throat. You've noticed that is something she does when she struggles to find her words. 

"I do fancy this restaurant, i do..." - she looks to the side. Your table happens to be in one of the distance corners, yet still next to a large set of windows. Individual, cozy, calm. A perfect place for Miranda's nature. - "But i have forgotten how much sadness it brings me." 

Sadness. Is Miranda even capable of dealing with such an emotion? She drops her head down in between her palms. Gods , she looks miserable. You resist the strong urge to just wrap your hands around her and drag her back in the protection of her home. 

"I often visited this place before." - a pause - "With her." - there's no need for names to be summoned. You both know exactly who is Miranda talking about. Though your chest tightness at the thought of the blonde woman using you as replacement, now that her Mia is gone. - "I'm sorry, I should have chosen another restaurant, darling , I just-" 

"It's okay , Miranda." - you both breathe in and out, in attempt to calm the unwanted flames of emotions that began to build in. Part of you understands why she decided to bring you here. It's a natural place for her to be. And perhaps she thought she can get over her part issues if she faces the problem directly. She couldn't. 

She apologises again. You follow the uncalculated movements of her fingers down to her left hand , where she begins to fidget with her ring , one of many. But you recognise it as the precious silver circle that hugs her finger all day , every day. And then you manage to connect the dots. How much Mia had to hurt her to make Miranda be inseparable with a simple piece of jewelry?

"It was from Mia, wasn't it?" - you boldly asks , tilting your head towards her gentle hand. She forms a fist with it. 

"It was for Mia." - Miranda can't help the voice crack that escapes her throat as she dares to speak the name of her past lover , her nails dig into the table. - "A wedding ring she never...happened to receive." 

Oh. So Miranda was planning to propose to Mia, but... something stopped her. You find yourself more than Intrigued , invested in why did their relationship fall apart.

"You can tell me , Miranda." - you let her know while  dragging your hand across the table, then tenderly locking your fingers with hers, in an attempt to bring her comfort. You appreciate the fact that she tries , even though she fails, to form a smile - "If you think it's going to make you feel better." 

You're ready to sacrifice the idea of having a nice dinner with her in order to get more information  about her past relationship and perhaps learn from Mia's mistakes. 

"I don't think I've ever loved someone like this my entire life." - she sniffs , making you shiver. Gods, is she about to cry? You don't think you can handle tears rolling down her  pretty cheeks right now.Miranda is gifted a tight squeeze of encouragement by your careful fingers. - "Ten years, fortified by intertwined lies." - she grabs her forehead with her free hand , sighing slowly - "Ten years..."  

"What happened exactly?" - you lower you face down, hoping you take a better angle in order to see her expression. It is a mistake, as you spot a single tear ready to drop from the hill of her nose. Your jaw clenches. 

"She was one of my old colleagues, never to actually caught my interest...until we got a commun project" - despite her almost whispering voice, you're still able to hear and understand her completely. You wait in silent sympathy when she struggles to find her exact words. - "Among our other coworkers she sparked like a star , filled with joy from the fact that she was the only one to not feel... fear towards me. With her unique persona , weird yet thrilling interests and great passion for her work,  she... managed to bewitch me." - Miranda takes a deep breath in , then turns to you, her eyes slightly puffed - "She was perfect." 

Hope can be dangerous. Yet you cling to it. Mia was perfect. Miranda talks about her in past tense, you find yourself wishing she doesn't still perceive her as the person she once loved. It's difficult for you to understand how can someone leave the blonde woman in front of you. 

"Naturally, i allowed our relationship to expand. I... yearned to spend every possible moment with her. I even bought her this ring because-". - another voice crack, tears urging in the corners of her eyes while she blinks fast to prevent them. Tight squeeze on your hand. A pitiful look sent in your direction - "I wanted to call her mine. My wife." - she puts a palm over her trembling lips as she looks to the side , her voice barely a whisper - "That was before i found out she was already married." 

That was it. The thing that ruined their relationship. A man. Your thumb slowly strokes the path of her knuckles, showing her support while she processes to explain how humiliated she felt, only having the power to observe in awkward silence , while Mia's said husband showed up to their work place the day Miranda was planning to propose to her. Although she ran away from there , from them , from her, cutting any contact with her past lover , she was never able to throw that bloody silver line of metal away. It stayed in her life like a dark spirit following closely after her every step. 

"A few weeks later she contacted me. Asking to meet up." - Miranda's fingers clench around the green fabric of her dress , right above her heart, and she pulls, tilting her neck to a side, as if she finds it difficult to breathe. But you know that feeling well , her chest burns from sadness. You swallow hard , eyes still fixed onto her. - "I stayed...even after she made it clear she just wanted me  to satisfy the needs her husband couldn't." 

"She sees you as a toy, Miranda." - the words  bites her skin , both of you know your statement is perhaps the only truth feeling Mia has towards the tall woman. 

"How can i just leave the person I've loved for years?" - the tone of her voice is very different than usual, it sounds weak - "All this time and attention I've put into our relationship would seem-" 

"Pointless." - you cut her off , knowing exactly what she's trying to explain to you. The same flame has burned you too. - "Feels so unfair,  doesn't it? You give your best to save that special bound while opposite of you - there's a person that simply doesn't care." 

"Philip wasn't the best partner neither, was he?" - you force a smile when the waiter boy comes back to your table, you have to untangle your fingers from Miranda - though she doesn't seem very happy about it. Yet she surprises you by silently opening the menu and pointing to a chocolate piece of cake in the desserts dedicated pages of it. The man nods nervously and finds himself in rush to get away from your table. 

"Well he was...for a while , at least." - time flies fast , you can't remember the last time you two were nice to eachother in person. Have you even been on a decent date for the past few months? 

"How so?" - Miranda waves off the waiter the moment he places a small plate in front of her , the chocolate piece of cake looks almost identical to the picture of it on the menu. 

"As childhood friends we were always close, we rarely argued and we were just happy to be together." - you begin to explain as you observe Miranda, pleased she's finally eating something, even if she just decides to skip to the dessert. You can take a wild guess where did Eva get her sweet tooth from. - "Our other friends mocked us about still not dating eachother  in our twenties. So we decided to just give it a try. It worked out." - before you know it, she's finished with the cake.- "A few years into our relationship i discovered that he cheated on me , in the beginning, when he thought it wasn't going to last. Even though it was so long ago i felt absolutely disgusted with him.I grew colder, so did he. And our shared love slowly...died." 

Of course there are many other reasons as for why you decided you're finally done with Philip. However, you don't feel like digging into unwanted past memories right now.

"You managed to move from him quickly." - she voices out, eyes widening when you nod to her , her hand searches for your again, eagerly. - "How?" 

Miranda's inner self if desperate to know how to stop that aching feeling in her heart. Your lips curl up in a dream. 

"I believe i have found someone better." - her eyebrows twitch as you lean closer to her , still the table is a large obstacle, but you can safely whisper and know she will hear you - "Much better." 

Miranda laughs. You've never noticed that she has dimples , the tiny lines show up when her lips form a smile. Being this close to her has it's privileges. 

For a moment you allow yourself to be taken by her beauty. Your lips wouldn't mind being glued to hers for eternity , even when your palms give up, grey and bloody, from holding her too tightly, too firm. Your eyes will continue to chase the charming flame in her pupils, living as a candle that even the wildest of winds cannot blow away. 

"Darling?" - she calls out for you. 

"Hm?" - you mutter, busy biting the inside of your cheek. 

"I want to go home." - and you desire to fulfill her every need.

You are quick to call the waiter back to your table. And just like that the pill is paid and you find yourself in Miranda's car again, traveling back to the mansion. 

***** 

Your hand stays on the place it feared to touch before, during your whole path back home. Even through the fabric of Miranda's dress , your digits can still get a good example of how soft and nicely shaped for holding her thighs are. Especially your thumb , which dares to linger beneath the cloth , where the high slit in her loosen skirt starts. 

The trip is silent, however, both of you enjoy the fact that you don't need to share words in order to be pleased with eachother's company. Miranda drives carefully, but eagerly to go back to the mansion. A sigh of relief fills your chest when the tall , dark shadow of the building towers over the car. 

A low note of dying violin rings through the air as the grand entrance opens up. One of two doors is tenderly open for you to walk past it and into the mansion. When you do , another sound echoes behind you. A lock. Then you sense a hand on your shoulder. 

"I am...certainly thankful for tonight" - the touch disappears only for a moment, before it can appear again, this time at the back of your neck , slowly tugging on loosen stands of hair , forcing your head to tilt upwards. 

"I know it wasn't the date you expected, Miranda." - the unsureness in her voice is more than visible for you, she's not entirely pleased, yet she cannot say it was the worst experience of her life , nor can you. - "But I-...I enjoyed it. I enjoyed spending my time with you." - the smile you give her while searching to grab her hands in your is genuine.- "And I want you to know that I'd be happily by your side if your need me, when you wish to...calm down your thoughts...and feels." 

Though the usage of the perfect words for the situation doesn't come as easily, you're safe to say you mean each one of them. The merest thing you can propose to her is to be emotionally available. A trait Mia clearly doesn't possess. 

Your head bumps into something soft, tender and extremely alluring, which a sweet smell of... perfume, it's her perfume. You're able to so easily sense it , simply because your nose is currently rubbing against the base of her neck , where the smell is strong and intoxicating. Miranda has pulled you in a tight embrace, locking your face in her chest. She doesn't seem very determined to let go. Even after she moves and you find yourself pressed against the wall behind you. 

"How i wish to kiss you, darling..." - she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. It makes you tingle. 

"Do it." - your voice comes out too harsh, it can be almost  perceived as a command. 

"Not here , though" - she taps a few times on your lips with a slender fingers, robbing you from the chance to be kissed breathlessly. You only understand what she means by that when her lips tenderly connect with the skin of your neck. Meanwhile you allow her hands to run up and down your sides. - "Pretty darling... please don't let me be disappointed." 

"W-what?" - you barely murmur, feeling your knees giving up, influenced by the impact she forces on you. 

"I've made my decision long ago..." - about what? You wish to ask, but your words get lost in your throat when her fingers slide under your vest , just like earlier this night, with the only difference that the mansion is now devoid of children and she can add eager pressure to her touch. - "Prove to me that it wasn't foolish." 

A lower button of your vest flies open, giving Miranda more access to your abdomen, where her cold palms decide to wander freely. She sets a good amount of goosebumps runnings beneath your skin. Your lips slightly part , as you find it difficult to breathe, when the continuous slow kisses on your neck transform into careless bites. Her teeth have a familiar sharpness to them , when they dig relentlessly into your skin. 

"Miranda..." - you groan out her name, the sound is so casual at this point, it comes out as a habit. For your suprise she retreats to observe your face for a moment. 

"Forgive me, darling." - you nod your head , feeling the tender way her thumb rubs against the fresh bite mark on your neck. It's only when she lowers her head back down and you shiver at the coldness and wetness of her tongue also running over that specific place , when your mind clears up and you try to reason her, though your sentence comes out as a weak whimper. - "I tend to bite." 

Miranda tends not to bite , but to claim. To mark what she feels as hers. You're not surprised, because that is simply her nature. It's not the fact  she wants to show the world that she fancies you that bothers your throbbing head. It's the leg that firmly goes between your thighs as she continues to paint your neck in beautiful red marks. 

"We shouldn't..." - your hands seem too weak to push her away. You fear the daring decision to loose them lower , to let them explore her body the same way hers are wandering over your stomach. 

"Really?" - she mocks, clearly knowing about the inner battle you're going through right now, she takes a hold of these unsure hands and places them firmly around her waist, as she leans to whisper just below your ear. You're almost certain she can feel how wild your pulse is going. - "Don't you want to take that tight dress off me , darling?" 

"That's not what you want, Miranda." - not after tonight, it feels wrong. She doesn't seem convinced with your answer. 

"I want you." - she tugs your hair again, forcing your head up so she can roughly claim your lips in a good angle. You can't help but moan into the kiss when you recognise the words she uses. Your words , she only repeats them. - "Please don't make me say how badly." 

"Where?" - you pant out , looking around only to realise you're still pretty much next to the entrance. 

"My bedroom, darling?" - she proposes, trying to put your now fully unbuttoned vest back in it's original form. You feel the air around you shifting as she takes a step backwards, suddenly you can breathe normally again. - "it's the closest." 

You allow her to drag you to the said room. It definitely takes you a while , since she just cannot depart from your lips for too long. You did find yourself pressed against other walls or furnitures a few more times before reaching her bedroom, as you had to beg her to wait for a bit. Her eagerness is hard to tame. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of burning torture, she reaches her door and before you know it - she pushes you down on her soft mattress. You can barely take your time to sit straight and position yourself before she crawls on top of you, palms occupying your flushed cheeks while her lips crash against yours. The groan she lets out vibrates through the kiss , influencing you to wrap your hands around her. 

Her lower body shifts around until she positions herself right on top of one of your thighs. Then she slowly rocks her hips forward, another weak groan urges to escape her throat. It makes you so unsure in how to react that you decide to do the easiest thing - which is to push her , or at least try, off yourself. She's definitely not satisfied with your decision. 

"Kiss me." - she whispers, forcing your lips on hers. - "Touch me." - your hands are guided back around her waist, they even dare to go lower. - "Undress me." - the high slit in her dress gives your fingers perfect access to her heated skin below the green fabric, at this point half of the dress is raised and crumpled just above her hips, she's determined to drag your hands even higher, as they are currently running up to her breasts. - "Have all of me." - her outfit is already forgotten story, thrown lazily on the floor, along with her bra that your thumb just so happened to hook up together with her dress. - "Do everything else but stop, darling, i beg you." 

To say you're out of words is lame. And definitely not enough. Because your throat is completely dry. And you feel awful, having no idea what to do with practically naked Miranda, placed so lovely on your lap. 

"I don't know how-...what to do." - you finally confess, trying to ignore the constant embarrassment burning the tips of your ears. She gets a hold of your face again, eyes widened,  as she stares at you in surprise. And concern. 

"Is this your first time?" - her eyebrows furrow , yet you can't help but lean into her touch as she tenderly caresses your cheek with the back of her palm. Her knuckles feel rocky against your skin , but in a good way. In a way you love. 

"With a woman. Yes." - it's one thing to imagine absolutely wrecking Miranda and completely different thing to have her sitting on top of you, waiting for satisfaction, that you currently can't give. As you're unfamiliar with how exactly to bring pleasure to women, with having experience only with men. 

Miranda summons a large smirk on her lips. It suits her. 

"That's okay, darling." - she uses that sweet tone of her voice, which you've heard when she tries to comfort her children. So sweet, you can almost bet you'd taste honey if you dared to kiss her right now. What she does makes your breath hitch. Miranda grabs one of your wrists in an unbreakable cage of thin fingers, then guides it up to her mouth. She presses your digits to her lips , her eyes staying fixed on you and your heavy panting chest, then she slowly parts them, allowing your fingers to enter. - "I'll teach you." 

Her mouth feels different now that is not your tongue inside but rather your fingers, which can feel everything in much greater detail. Her lips press around near your knuckles, her sharp teeth adding a little friction to the overall experience. Saliva spills around your digits, nearly the same time as when her tongue decides to join and travel along the length of your fingers. Miranda closes her eyes, trying to concentrate and make sure to have your fingers completely soaked before you can pull them out. 

Good thing she decides to pull your hand away only after a few seconds, because you are absolutely sure your skin was starting to melt inside her mouth. Your digits come out with a wet popping sound , a thin line of saliva still connecting them to Miranda's lips , which she eliminates by kissing your fingertips. She observes her work with a smile , clearly pleased. Then her eyes fix on yours. 

"Lower, darling." - you blink, successfully awaking from the short trance that made your mind foggy. Another hard blink and you feel your nails scratching the edges of her underwear. She tugs your wrist down, until your hand goes directly beneath the last piece of clothing she's wearing, if you don't count her heels. Then her head finds a cozy, comfortable nest in the crook of your neck. And she sighs.- "I trust you know what to do from here , given your...past experience." 

Miranda finds a way to mock you even in a situation like this. It's absolutely hilarious for her to remind you of the night she caught you - hand in your jean , on her couch. Her little smirk cannot be missed. But she's good at hinting you she wants the same thing you did under her guidance to yourself now to transfer to her. So you have no choice but to obey. 

"You're so soft..." - you murmur somewhere close to her ear , fingers now beginning to explore her slick folds, the fabric of her underwear annoying the back of your palm so you gently pull it away with your oher hand , exposing her whole. 

"I know." - she says is proudly, scratching her teeth to your already bitten over and over again skin. 

"So wet..." - you continue to whisper, enjoying the way her hips parts so she can give you more access. You drive your digits upwards, the soft pads of your fingertips finding her clit, slowly rubbing circles right above it, not giving enough friction to the needy bundle of nerves. You take pride in your teasing when she growls in your neck. 

"I am..." - she answers weakly for you, in agreement. The familiar warmth of her tongue makes sure to present itself to your skin yet again. 

"Gods Miranda, you're dripping." - your middle and ring finger easily slide inside of her , due to how aroused she is. When your knuckles hit her slit you stop, allowing her to adapt to the feeling of your digits deep inside of her. Meanwhile your thumb presses to her clit , helping with her tightness. 

"Please..." - your nose wrinkles when her teeth decide to try their best to pierce your skin. Yet you stay still in surprise, not expecting to hear her beg so soon, or in general. You have more important goals than to wonder what role exactly she likes to play in the bedroom, however. So you just decided to give her what she desires. 

The two fingers inside of her gentle work upwards, testing the waters. When she doesn't show much of a reaction you pull them almost completely out , only to drive them back , and repeat. That seems to have a good effect on Miranda as her biting becomes more and more painful. Even if she decides to bite your whole neck , it wouldn't be enough to silence the moans urging from her throat. You feel addicted to these sounds. 

"Fuck- you're going to leave marks." - wounds even, with all that pressure she allows her teeth to give you. Your fingers are now moving with fair speed and enough pressure to make her hips buckle. The moment her mouth leaves your neck and she presses her forehead to your collarbone, the room fills with breathless moans , which she just can't seem to control. Is that why she bites so hard? 

People tend to avoid the fire that burns them. That doesn't work for you, her teeth might be painful, but your skin feels lonely without them. A weak whine escapes her lips as your fingers begin to move rapidly in and out of her , with little care for gentleness, while the heel of your palm presses firmly against her aching clit. It makes her hiss. Miranda lifts up her head to look at you with a sorrowful expression. 

"I never told you to stop." - she quickly gets what you mean, your fingers only care  to stop their merciless pounding when her mouth  finds its place back at the side of your neck. This time you groan out in pain , as her teeth break any skin barrier and both of you feel, while Miranda even tastes , the thick crimson blood that runs down from the bite mark, possibly ruining a part of your vest. She licks everything clean within seconds. Her tender kisses afterwards happen to be a good apology. 

Even though you take pride in making her whimper in the crook of your neck , your fingers don't exactly seem to do the job for her. Part of you stays disappointed when Miranda position herself in a way that makes it easy to rock her hips , as she begins to ride your fingers. Her back arches, forcing her chest to shove in your face. If your hands weren't so busy in holding her waist in support, they would definitely love to play with her breasts. 

She's close , you can feel the way her inner wall clench tighter and tighter around your fingers with every trust , with every desperate swing of her hips. She places her hands on your knees, nearly slipping and falling backwards as her now blood covered lips finally depart from your skin. Her eyes stay interested in the way your digits work her up , as she likes to not only watch others get pleasured , even when her orgasm hits her, hard. 

She's a whimpering, shaking, perfect  mess. You don't think you've seen someone that beautiful. 

The movements of her hips slowly die as she rides out the electric feeling that runs through her whole body. She squirms , knees glued together, preventing you from doing too much while she's still sensitive. She lets you know she's alright by shoving her face back in your neck , arms folded around it. You wait for her chest to stop rapidly going up and down before retrieving your hand from between her legs. 

Your fingers are damped with her , wetness dripping even down to your wrist. You lift them up, closer for you to observe. Miranda chuckles softly next to you, her head now resting on your shoulder. She parts her lips , expecting you want to shove your digits back into her mouth, but it's not hers that they end up in. Your lips close around your fingers before she can protest, or say anything at all.

At this moment you partly understand why Mia is still so obsessed with Miranda. The taste of that woman almost forces you to flip her over and spend the whole night buried between her thighs. However, you know she will want more than that. A tug on your vest confirms it.

"Undress for me." - she places a kiss on your temple, then the bed shift as her weight disappears from it. She removes her heels and underwear, standing now completely naked in front of you. Perhaps you've spent quite some time staring at her flawless body , because she clears her throat, catching your attention again. 

She doesn't need to tell you twice. The vest and pants are history already. And with your own underwear gone within seconds - you match her nakedness completely. Her eyes linger from your head all the way down to your feet. And she licks her lips. Gods. 

"Left drawer, open it." - she points to one of the two , not so large bedside tables, not even bothering to look at that direction, as her attention is stored specially and only for you at the moment. You stretch out to the drawer, swiftly pulling on the handle. It's empty. You turn to give her a confused look. She laughs, walking past the bed and next to the bedside table, her fingers press on the bottom and just like that , it shifts down - "Fake bottom, darling. Remember that" 

Inside the nearly exposed, secret department Miranda has a small collection of sex toys. Big part of you isn't surprised, not even the slightest. Various and colourful, each one of the toys looks designed to give the maximum amount of pleasure. Her fingers choose a black coloured silicone dildo, she also picks up a leather harness and works fast to connect them together in a strap-on. Then she proudly shows it to you. You swallow hard. 

"That's a bit..." - large, you're used to different sizes, there's no way that's going inside of you. Miranda gives the toy a confused look. 

"It's the most i can take." - she throws the fancy looking belt on the bed next to you. You sigh when she takes back her place in your lap. Now that you're both naked , her skin feels even softer against you. 

"Oh, you're going to be the one taking it?" - for some reason you thought it would be you. The other way around is also welcome, you'll definitely need more assistance with the straps, however. 

"I need you to forget any experience you've had with men , darling." - you love it when she cups your cheeks and looks down at you, those blue eyes can calm you with ease everytime you're nervous  , she places a kiss on your forehead. - "Because as i woman i demand more , much more." - you accept the lips that press to yours instantly, and the tongue that comes with them. - "Though I'm not that hard to please, once you learn how to work me out." 

She takes a hold of the belt next to you. When she commands you to stand so she can put it around your hips, however, you stop her. Your fingers points to her left hand, eyes locked on the silver ring that still sits awfully around one of her slender digits. 

"Take that off." - you frown, taking a step back when she tries to get closer to you. - "I don't what you touching me while wearing that ring." 

Another's woman wedding ring. 

"What ring?" - the sound of metal hitting the floor echoes through the air before you can acknowledge Miranda's hands on your shoulders. Then you just allow yourself to be lost in the sensation of her lips as you lick the many different layers of lipstick, wine and blood off them. 

Miranda helps you out with the leather harness , making sure the straps are not too tight for you , while in the meantime enough to hold the weight of the toy. When she's done , she grabs your chin in her soft palm , her thumb running along your bottom lip before she leans down to tug on it with her teeth. Then to kiss you - the two things she's into , pain and pleasure. 

"You like it when I'm under you , darling?" - though her tone hints she's asking this as a question, it stands out more like a statement. As if she's been in your head , through all the fantasies you've had about her. Below you. 

"I do." - in fact, you loved  it. Miranda works swiftly to change your position. It's almost like you're chasing her through the sheets. She positions herself somewhere in the middle of the large bed, her hand tugging you by the chin, forcing your lips on hers yet again. She's so very keen on kissing. 

"Then take me." - a command, a demand, a need. You can feel her lips curling up in a smile when your hands waste no time in running down her sides. Making her grin even wider when you squeeze her soft hips. 

The tip of the toy rubs against her slick folds once you crawl on top of her , she holds you close , her face yet again in the crook of your neck. Her nails, which she normally keeps short, now feel sharp against your skin as she drags them down your back. You enter her unsurely, strictly following her guiding commands, enjoying the way her breath hitches with every inch she takes. When the toy completely disappears inside of her, your movements stop, and you wait, letting her adapt to the feeling. 

Her arms unfold from behind your neck when you lift your torso up, straightening your back and placing your hands on her waist. You run your palms on the surface of her heated skin, taking a liking in how she shivers under your fingertips. You don't even realise when you manage to roll your hips, only acknowledging your actions when she whines below you. The sound echoing through your head, awaking roots of concern. 

"Miranda?" - you nervously call out of her, afraid she's in pain. The last thing you wish to do is hurt her. 

"Move, darling." - she voices out, her hand practically shaking as she moves it past her stomach, down to where your lower bodies connect, but instead of helping with something there she wraps it around your hip, eager to pull you closer. - "In and out - baby, please." 

You feel like it's her own desperation that moves your hips backwards, until half the length of the toy is out only to slowly disappear back inside of her. She crosses her ankles behind your back, locking you in the strong cage of her legs, to make sure you won't run away. You bottom out and she moans loudly, now that she has nothing to bite into. You enjoy the resistance of her inner walls as you drag the toy back out, with each slow trust she looses her tightness, while her volume increases. 

Your thumb finds her clit and fiercely drags the hood of it upwards, exposing the pink bundle of nerves to your greedy eyes. A few quick taps land on it, sending electric shivers through her stomach. She gets even more aroused when you begin to lay lazy circle on her clit, almost feeling it throb under the weight of your fingerprint. She throws her head backwards, her tight neck muscles catch your eyes as she swallows hard. 

"Good girl. That's- ..mm, darling more." - your cheeks burn at her praise , meanwhile your heart threatens to jump out of your chest, triggered by her arching back and messy sentences. She holds the black sheets in tight fists from both her sides as she stares at you from beneath her eyelashes. - "You can start m-moving faster... now." 

Your hips are more than ready to obey her. They change their tempo to a more rapid one , roughly stretching her out as you pick a pace that makes both of you groan in pleasure. You move her right leg up , her ankle on your shoulder, while her thigh hits her stomach and you rock the toy deep inside of her. The sound she lets out is heavenly. 

You like how she struggles to keep her eyes from rolling at the back of her head. While that pretty blue colour is one of your favourite things in this mansion, you can't help but feel a shiver running down your spine as you look at it now. Then your head begins to spin. 

Cold. It's so cold. As your feet are barely touching the ground because you're simply running too fast. From what? From who? Fear merges into anger the moment you see the dead deer in front of you. 

Miranda moans uncontrollably when you begin to pound relentlessly in and out of her. Your fingers were a child's play for her , but the thickness of the toy combined with your fast moving hips makes it impossible for her to think straight. 

Death has always been beautiful. But never gentle. Why does she hates you? You're not a bad person, it was an incident. The deer came out of nowhere. You're sorry for it but...

You lean closer , your head now resting in between Miranda's breasts, her teeth and nails are happy they finally have something to play with, something to bite and scratch. You don't acknowledge all the angry, left marks she leaves on your skin. 

Death is angry. Or confused. Or maybe too pleased. Death spends a lot of her time alone. Mother of many and daughter of none. She doesn't know how to show affection. She doesn't understand why you are running away from her , the woods are not friendly. 

Miranda calls out your name , voice desperate. You ignore her , head too foggy to pay her any attention right now. 

Death surprises you, thinking you would prefer seeing her instead of one mere corpse of a deer. At the moment you hate death, so you try to run again. Death acknowledges pain as a punishment. 

"Darling...?" - she weakly calls for you. You clench to her, never stopping the rough movements of your hips, at this point her back is more than simply arched. It hurts her, you're hurting her. 

Death is obsessed with you. Death hurts you because she has forgotten how love works. Her need to kiss you travels through her arm and instead of your lips - it lands higher, right into your nose. 

"Little deer, please..." - blood. Red staining blood drips from your nose , combined with awful pulsating pain - as if it's broken. The crimson colour drips onto Miranda's skin, it covers her chest, her neck , her stomach... You're both unbothered by that. Something is triggering you much more. 

"Miranda?" - your voice is full of concern ,as you finally answer her , lower body now completely still. Your palms cup her cheeks. Your eyes follow the colourless droplets that roll down from her eyes. Now those are tears you wouldn't mind licking off her face. 

"I apologise if I've done something to offend you.." - she murmurs, trying to keep eye contact with you. Her breath hitches when your hips slowly restart their rocking again, she tries to ignore the burning feeling inside her stomach- "But if you're mad at me ...oh, darling please-" 

"What are you talking about?" - you whisper out , placing loving kisses around her collerbone and the tender skin of her breasts - "I'm not mad at you, Miranda." 

"Then be more careful with me." - her nails drag themselves up your back before she decides to shove them in your hair , for the first time tonight she hesitates to claim your lips. - "Can't you see I'm shaking?" 

You wouldn't say exactly shaking,  though her thighs are definitely twitching with every new trust of the toy. You kiss her forehead, apologising over and over again. Not sure if you should continue or just stop. Miranda is the one ot take that decision. 

"Pull out." - she orders - "This position is not working out for you." 

Miranda works quick to flip herself on her stomach. She gives you a playful smile as she turns to look at you. But you stay completely still and confused. How are you supposed to fuck her now. Is she mad at you? You wipe the blood from your nose. Why is the world still spinning? Your hands, they search for her, your lips eager for hers , but Miranda seems like millions of kilometres away right now. 

"My hips, darling." - there she is , always ready to pull you out of your own mind. With her solutions for everything. Your fingers are scared when they tug on her waist, on the apex of her thighs. However, as her lower body follows your hand's demands and her ass forms a perfect circle you forget your hesitation. You break into her again, melting her back and forcing her face to press into the pillows. 

Her golden hair rolls down and around her shoulders, revealing her bare back to your eyes and the mystery that comes with it. You run your hand through the weird, black and curved looking lines on her skin. They even have texture. Strange. 

"Are those tattoos?" - you question, your other hand gently holding her waist as you continue to pound into her with a decent pace , which you make sure she enjoys. 

"No...yes...please don't touch.." - just as you are about to retreat your hand she grabs it and instead guides it to her hair, where she makes sure your fingers get a hold of honey coloured strands. It's funny how you spent quite some time trying your best to be gentle while bleaching her hair a few days ago and now both of you don't care if you leave her bald , with all that tugging. 

Miranda's body follows your desire to be lifted up. The pressure while you pull her by the hair upwards is painful but she handles it. Once her back presses against your chest and your force her legs open with your knees, she again lets out those filthy moans that blurb out of her mouth, with the new angle that manages to hit a very good spot inside of her.

Her head bends backwards, positioning itself on your shoulder. You wrap a hand at the base of her throat, feeling the vibration of every sound that eagerly travels through there, while your other arm stays firmly holding her stomach, you can almost feel where the tip of the toy is hitting inside of her as your forearm is exactly there. She tries not to break eye contact with you, though the nice blue colour is quickly replaced with snowy white as her eyes roll backwards. 

"So close..." - she murmurs, more to herself than to you, a few silent begs slipping past her lips while she guides the hand that holds her throat down, where she presses your fingers against her throbbing clit. A few strokes there is everything that she needs for her second orgasm to completely overtake her. This time she's silent, her mouth is opened but not a single sound comes out. You begin to fear she might have stopped breathing. But then she cries out and you smile , placing kisses against her shoulder. 

Miranda's body hits the mattress with a tud. And you let her lay down along her soft pillow, still and emotionless , limps twitching while she tries to came back to earth. And  you stay patiently inside of her , unsure if you should pull out or not. After a minute or two , she weakly groans , a finger taps on your hip. 

"Off.." - she whispers, tugging on the strap - "Take it off."  

You obey instantly. Happy to remove the fancy belt from around your hips. You're surprised with now wet exactly you've gotten. Miranda surely works her magic on you. Speaking of the woman she raises up like a champion and give you a vicious smile. The look in her eyes is clear - first of all she's not finished and second of all she's eager for more kisses. 

"Such a bad girl you are." - she easily consumes what is hers , your lips are quivering below hers , her handy cupping your breasts - "Making me loose control like that." 

"Miranda..." 

"Mira." - she corrects you, easily shifting positions so now you're the one pressed to the mattress - "Just Mira is fine. Easier to moan." 

Her fingers find joy in pinching and squeezing your nipples. She's sat on your stomach, making it hard for you to do anything else rather than just arch your back, which eventually gives her more access to your chest, and moan out her name. 

"How do you like it?" - she asks , moving backwards to pay attention to the heat between your legs, her fingers easily gather the wetness that drips from your lower lips. - "Anything you don't want me to do? Anything you absolutely crave  me to do?" 

"Just you." - you hiss out when she parts your legs, now having more access to your sensitive areas, which she almost instantly begins to tease. 

"All of me , sweet girl?" - she laughs, flicking your clit between her fingers, while rubbing comfortable circles on your inner thighs. - "Are you sure you can handle that?" 

"Yes , please...just-" - you cut yourself off , eyes widening when she decides to shove two of her fingers inside of you with little to no warning. They begin to plumb in and out of you, while she continues to torture your clit, all those sensitive nerves locked between her two hands. When she adds a third digit you can't help but whimper, feeling a hard to handle pressure building up inside your stomach. Her fingers are not thick, but gods are they long. Philip could never reach the places the tips of her fingertips are able to explore. - "It hurts, Mira." 

"It tickles." - she corrects you, almost instantly forcing you to believe her statement. A grin appears on her still stained in blood lips the moment she manages to hit that rougher type of skin inside of you, right after she curls up her digits. - "Feel that , darling." - she makes sure to rub that specific place with enough force to make you whimper. - "That's the place you couldn't quite reach when your fingers were inside of me." - is this why she practically rode you to her orgasm? - "Feels good doesn't it? I expect you to remember it for next time."

Next time...?  

Miranda lowers her head down. Her tongue replaces the finger on your clit and she begins to lick, making your eyes disappear in the back of your head.  Though that feeling is too short for you to truly enjoy it. Once you're able to see again, you glare down at her and the way she open her mouth to let a large drop of saliva drip from the tip of her tongue. 

"Don't you think I'm wet enough?" - you snap at her , feeling exactly how the tips of her fingers are starting fires inside your lower belly. You can't laste long with such a woman between your legs. 

"The messier you are , darling, the more you can take" - she proves that by spreading her saliva down to your slit where the three of her fingers easily gather it and when she shoves them back in , they do feel easier to handle. She's smiling because she knows she's right. - "And i plan to make a big mess out of you." 

Miranda proves herself yet again by making you finish under the next two minutes. With the help of her wicked tongue that decides to join for a second time , knowing exactly how to flick around your clit. Your hips buckle against her face , threatening to suffocate her , your fingers pulling roughly on her hair. All she does is moan into you , sending electric shivers up your veins that forces your head to tilt backwards and just like that Miranda makes you see stars again. 

"I've been thinking about something you said some time ago, it won't leave my head , little deer." - you find yourself almost begging for her fingers once they pull out of you. You don't even try to understand the following sentence that she speak out loud. - "Care to say that you still hate me?" 

If it will bring her mouth back to your aching core. 

"I hate you." - you hiss out , feeling her body crawling on top of you, she lifts one of your legs around her waist as she positions herself right on top of you. Wetness merging with wetness, your still sensitive clit kissing hers. - "I hate you so damn much." 

"So do I , darling." - one last sentence before she begins to rock her hips against you and you allow yourself to be lost into her touch completely. 

In really however, none of you are talking about hatred. 

.

.

.

Despite the fact that both of you were sweaty and breathless after literal hours of mindless fucking, as you had to beg Miranda to let you rest, you willing decided to cuddle, skin to skin , afraid the other might disappear if she wasn't hold properly. 

That's why you aren't surprised when you open your eyes , complete darkness surrounding you, and the first thing you feel is soft hair spread all over your face. Your hands are tightly wrapped around her waist, your legs still tangled together from earlier. You place a tender kiss to the nape of the woman sleeping in your arms. You resist the urge to shove your face in the middle of her shoulder blades and just go back to sleep. 

Unfortunately for you, the dryness in your throat is so bad you might start coughing if you don't drink a cup of water , or a few, to calm the storm down. 

You bare your teeth, hating how loud the mattress shifts when you try to move away from her. You stop in the middle of it , looking back at Miranda to make sure she's still asleep. Good , she is. Your feet make contact with the floor and you slowly, as to not bump into something and hurt yourself, begin to walk to the door. Or at least where you think the door is. 

A weak yelp urges past your lips the moment a hand raises from the darkness around the bed and locks its fingers around your wrist. You immediately jump to Miranda, who murmurs something quietly in her half-sleeping state. 

"Don't leave." - the sleepiest, cutest sounding warning ever. You can also picture her with pursed lips , finding yourself wishing you can somehow see her face in the dark hour. 

"Wasn't planning too, i just-" 

"Don't leave." - now she sounds desperate, unhappy even. She tugs on your wrist, forcing you to take a step closer to the bed. From here you can see how she sits up and blinks a few times. - "Stay with me , cuddle me." 

You're unsure how her arms perfectly wrap behind your neck. But you allow her to bring you closer. 

"I'm just going to get us water , Mira, it's okay." - you rub your nose along her skin, in attempt to calm her down and possibly convince her to literally let you go for two minutes. She's been with you the whole evening , surely you can depart without much of a problem. Not for Miranda. 

"She never stayed." - her unexpected sentence cuts you like a sharp blade. - "She knew how to tire me out so i couldn't move , let alone argue when she decided to leave right after we were finished." 

Your hatred towards Mia grows with everything Miranda reveals about her. You tenderly caresse the side of her face , your lips in a search for her - the first time they try, they hits her chin instead, but then she helps you out and you share a much needed kiss. 

"I'll just get us some water, okay?" - as you press your forehead into hers you realise you're not asking her to let you go down to the kitchen, but to trust you blindly that you won't leave like Mia did. 

"My robe should be somewhere around" - she spins your body in the direction she's thinking of exactly - "take it , it gets chilly at night." 

You're only now realising you're still naked. So is Miranda. Both of you don't seem to mind it. Yet you somehow get to the said night robe , still guided by Miranda. Then you continue down to the kitchen. 

When you return you note Miranda is already long lost in dream. So you finish your cup in one big sip , while you place her still full one on the bedside table on the right side. Then you slowly make your way back behind her , eager to snuggle next to her soft skin again. 

Your lips gift her with one last kiss , carefully placed on the shoulder, before you allow the cold night and lonely darkness to take you to distant lands of dreams. 

While you hold your favorite nightmare in tight embrace. 

What if I became homophobic?? WHAT'S HOW THEY ARE MAKING ME FEEL.

"I wish I could just hate you."

In The Eyes Of God - Part V

, and you cradle God in yours arms.

Mother Miranda x Reader/OC

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

You stare at him.

Benjamin.

The lifeless body.

There’s another body next to him. It’s yours.

The you that you leave behind, wide eyed and innocent, her blood-splattered face staring up at you with fear and betrayal as you cling to God.

You feel like the villain as you leave her there on the floor, this other you, weeping over the body of a man she doesn’t really know. But warm, solid arms cradle you away from her, bringing you comfort -bringing you love, as you are whisked away in a blur of feathered blackness.

You don’t even notice that you are somewhere else when the blur fades away, face still pressed against warm, soft robes, slender arms still embracing you, caging you in.

Caged. 

That’s how you feel. 

Suddenly disgusted by the situation, you struggle against the confines of your captor, bringing your hands up to press on her chest, to push her from you, to create some distance.

She doesn’t fight your struggling for more than a single moment and then the arms drop you, letting you topple to the wooden floor below. You wince sharply in pain as your elbows whack the lacquered maple, breaking your fall. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes. 

Mother Miranda strides away into the room, leaving you to see where you’ve been brought for the first time. Glancing around, your brows furrow at what you find. 

It’s a small living space, quaint with wooden floors and walls, much nicer in quality than the villagers’ homes. 

It would be cute… if it wasn’t damn near uninhabitable.

Vials and beakers are strewn about the counters, lost amongst the stacks -or rather, haphazard piles- of papers, diagrams, scrawled notes, and x-ray images. Small bits of surface that aren’t covered in science paraphernalia or odd looking trinkets that you’d also seen scattered about the village are covered in a thick layer of dust, except where there are finger streaks from where something had been snatched off the counter. The windows are covered in filth, both inside and out, and any possible seating space has been overtaken by… well you’re not entirely sure what that stuff is.

For a moment, you forget about the dead man you left in that cabin, the blood splattered all over your face, the horrible pit in your stomach.

“...Are you a hoarder?”

You can hear the pitter patter of rain starting on the window.

From her position at the far end of the room with her back turned to you, Mother Miranda lets out a half-confused, “what?” before she turns to regard you and your question finally registers. Her eyes roll.

“Don’t be silly, I have more important matters to attend to than cleaning.”

Oh, she has the audacity to be annoyed?

After what she just put you through?

Your brows furrow and you stomp to your feet. The priestess looks up from the paper she’s holding and tilts her head at your slanted eyes. With finesse -her movements are always so damn coordinated and smooth- she tosses the paper on the counter before stalking towards you, an amused expression on her face. 

“Do you have something you’d like to share, little crow?”

Your lips involuntarily purse a little in anger at how she seems to be taunting you. She stops a few feet from you and raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“I feel like everytime I have an encounter with you, I’m surviving the encounter with you.”

Her eyes flash and you can’t tell if it’s amusement or frustration. Neither probably bodes particularly well for you.

She takes another few steps forward, studying your face as she does and once again it makes you feel vulnerable. Naked. Like she’s reading your soul directly. She stops when she’s merely inches from you and it reminds you just how much taller she is when you have to tilt your chin up to meet her gaze.

“You know what I think, little crow?” Her voice is low, and it provokes the image of a feral cat crouching in the weeds, preparing to pounce. “ I think you like it.”

Your breath freezes in your throat. How dare she.

“No-”

“I think…” she continues, her eyes flaring as she stares intensely into yours, “you are impossibly bored, and that you enjoy surviving.”

“...That’s not-”

You can’t move. You order your mouth to open again, to protest, but it doesn’t.

Her head tilts again, slowly this time as she regards you. Her teeth begin to show as a small, dangerous smile pulls at the corners of her lips.

“I think that’s why you enjoyed befriending cannibals at the castle you were imprisoned by.”

You finally get your mouth to move.

“I’m not…” You mumble to a stop, your mouth still moving, but your voice seems to have checked out early.

Well.

It’s not your worst argument ever.

“And it’s why you enjoyed your evening,” she gestures to herself, wrists bent with delicate fingers pointed at her chest, “with a woman who was going to torture and kill you.”

Her smile widens satisfactorily as you run out of your stellar counter points. She leans back from where she’d been drifting closer, her expression smug. Her eyes float slightly down and a single hand comes up to wipe a speck of blood from your cheek, reminiscent of when she’d done the same after slitting Anabelle’s throat.

“That man drugged, trafficked, and sold you to a woman he knew would likely kill you. For money.”

That conflicting feeling returns to rumble in your chest as you picture Benjamin’s corpse on the ground, twitching as blood poured from his neck.

You hear a whistle as the wind picks up, a storm brewing in the village outside, and the rain patters louder.

“It was wrong to kill him.”

Are you convincing her? Or are you convincing you…?

Mother Miranda scoffs and her hand on your cheek slides back until two fingers are tilting your chin up to look her directly in the eye.

“Tell me, little crow, who’s to say what’s right and what’s wrong?”

Your brows furrow and you open your mouth to set her straight- to say ‘um, I don’t know, the law? The collective human concept of morality?’

But no sound comes out.

Her face is closer now, that sweet breath fanning your face once more as she continues.

“That man would have kept trafficking- dooming innocents such as yourself. Is it not good to have killed him to spare the many?”

Well now, that’s an interesting point. 

Deep down, you know she doesn’t really care about that, but does it matter if the greater good is still achieved?

Her hand slides forward again to cup your jaw. Her face is close.

Boy, her eyes are such a pretty blue…

“Tell me, sweet little dove,” Her voice is low and warm, and it does dangerous things to your heart. And your… well, lower than your heart. “Did you enjoy it?”

You notice tiny flecks of darker blue towards the inside of her eyes and you find yourself transfixed by them. And her hand is so soft and warm on your cheek. And her breath is so sweet against your face.

And…

…and there was a part of you that liked it. Just like how you liked it when she killed Anabelle.

It made you feel special. Powerful.

“...Yes.”

“I know.”

Her eyes are boring into yours now and you swear she’s nearly vibrating with the intensity she holds. Her voice is nearly a whisper, dark and full of heat.

“You know how I know all of this, my dove?”

There it is. My. That one little word you’ve come to love so much. It might be your favorite word in the English language.

Are you vibrating with her? Feels like it…

The tension between you is thick enough to cut through, and her voice comes out as a strained hiss when she finally answers her own question.

“Because we are the same.”

Oh.

Oh, her lips are so soft under yours, and the little squeak she just let out is too damn adorable.

Wait.

When did you get here?

(Who cares?)

You’re not sure who moved first -it all happened so fast, you crashed together so hard. It hardly matters now, though, as your hands cup her cheeks, holding her face to yours, as her tongue dominates yours in that firm way you remember from a week ago. Her one hand is still glued to your jaw, holding you just as close as you’re holding her, and her free hand has snaked down to your waist to squeeze and pull you into her.

You feel a pressure creep up against your neck, those delicate fingers wrapping around the column of your throat, giving a light squeeze, and you can’t hold back the low moan it pulls from you. You can feel it vibrate against her hand, and good god.

The two of you stumble sideways as Miranda leads you vaguely in a direction -you hope she knows where you’re going- neither of you willing to unglue your mouths from each other. Your shoulder smacks into a door frame and you know it’ll bruise, but you don’t even feel the pain as your feet chase after hers into a different room.

Your back makes contact with a wall and you glance to see a large bed next to you, but your eyes flutter back shut as the hand on your throat tightens, applying more pressure as the fingers that were on your waist slide down to dig into the meat of your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around her hip, and boy, you are glad there’s wall behind you because your. leg. is. a-wobbling.

It’s all heat and tongues and teeth and Miranda pressing you into that wall with her hips, her nails biting into the skin of your thigh under your skirt and it all just feels so fucking good.

You are hungry. 

Starving. 

You are absolutely famished for her, and you wish you could wrap your teeth around her entire body and swallow her whole. Consume her.

Breaking from the kiss, you keep on hand cupped along her jaw as the other snakes down underneath her arm to slide up her back, fingers splaying along her shoulder blade, and you drag your lips to her jawline, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along her soft skin. 

Mother Miranda sighs above you.

Fuck.

You tilt your head down to the junction of where her shoulder meets her neck and sink your teeth into her, grinning when her response is to huff and yank on your leg, bringing your center more snuggly against her hips.

You are a woman absolutely possessed. Your mind flashes back to a week prior- the first time you entered that room- the first time her teeth made contact with your skin. The thrill, the fear, the heat.

She was right. You had enjoyed it. A fucking lot.

You drag your lips up to the shell of her ear. “I bet those little maids never even tried to touch you, did they?” 

“No.” Comes the answer. It’s low. It’s dark. It’s husked. It is everything to you.

“Mmm, what a shame…” you murmur and tug lightly on her earlobe with your teeth, “you’re a masterpiece.”

A growl reaches your own ears and your head is slammed back against the wall. The hand that had gone slack against your throat clenches, squeezing tightly as the priestess’ eyes meet yours, her pupils so blown there’s only a thin ring of blue around the edge. 

A shiver runs up your spine and you bring your own hand up to wrap around her wrist, holding her hand firmly against your throat. 

Her eyes widen and her nostrils flare. The hand tightens and she lets out a breathy, “Fuck.”

Pressing into her hand, adding to the pressure, you lean closer, desperate to feel her lips on yours again. Your vision begins to swim a little as she cuts off your circulation. 

Hey, if you pass out, you pass out.

Miranda grins wide and dark, the sight of her pearly white teeth exposed reminding you of a wolf baring its fangs.

Your leg wobbles once again, and the blonde leans in, her lips brushing yours, almost giving you what you want, what you crave. 

“Look at you… so weak for me, and I haven’t even put you on your back yet.” She husks, low and sultry, and you whine, your hand digging into its hold on her shoulder to attempt to keep yourself upright.

She releases some of the pressure on your throat, allowing your blood to flow, and your vision to clear. You start a whine when she releases your leg back to the ground, but it’s cut off when she slots a knee between your thighs, and a broken moan is torn from your throat instead as she presses deliciously up against your core, her hand sliding around to grip a fistful of the flesh of your ass and pull you into her.

“That’s it, my little dove. Moan for me.” She commands, her voice ringing out through the room as she pulls her head back to watch you, her eyes drinking in your expression, drinking in the state of you as you begin to roll your hips against her thigh. 

The hand on your throat slides down to grip your hip, helping pull you back and forth, forcing you to move faster, as her mouth attaches to your neck, hungrily nipping and licking down your throat. 

Holy shit, she’s strong. 

Her hands are literally moving your hips for you, and when she jerks her knee up higher you almost yelp at the pressure. It’s so much- it’s too much. The pressure is damn near painful, but you literally cannot change it as her hands force you down hard against her leg.

Your shirt is ripped off, buttons flying and scattering across the wooden floor and you don’t even know how since both of her hands are still yanking you across her thigh and her mouth is making sure your entire neck is one giant purple mark. 

Her mouth descends, lips dragging down until they are at the top of your breasts, and when you tilt your chin down to look at her, you see her staring up darkly at you through her eyelashes before she sinks a bite into your soft, sensitive skin making you cry out, tossing your head back into the wall again.

The back of your head is going to bruise like a goddamn peach.

A familiar coil is tightening in your abdomen and you whimper as she works. She sucks where she bit, ensuring a nice, large mark will bloom before she slides back up to press her lips against the shell of your ear. “Such a nice canvas for me to paint on.” She purrs, nails digging into your ass as she works you towards your high. 

You don’t fight it this time. You wouldn’t be able to. There’s no room for argument.

“You’re going to cum for me, sweet dove.” She commands into your ear. “You’re going to give in to me.”

That tightening in your stomach is intense, you’re painfully right on the edge, already overstimulated even though you haven’t cum yet. Your hands paw at her, trying to anchor yourself as you shoot higher and higher.

“Now.”

Holyshitholyshitholyshit-

Your orgasm hits you like a semi-truck as you launch over the edge, screaming her name out like a prayer, though your voice is definitely sinful. White hot pleasure sears through you as wave after wave of painful pleasure crashes over you, and your body trembles in her hold, her arms wrapping around you to bring you up flush against her as she grinds her knee up into you, prolonging your high.

A pathetic whine bubbles past your lips as she continues to press her thigh up against you, adding to the shockwaves coursing through your entire body. She’s silent, as you come down from your magnificent high and you shiver when, after a few moments, you feel rather than hear a low growl vibrate against your face where it’s tucked into the crook of her neck.

Her hand slides firmly up along your back, up your neck, into your hair, where her fingers curl and grasp a tight fistful of hair. 

“Little dove…”

Oh. Her voice is downright sinfully low.

Your head is yanked back as you’re both spun around.

“On your knees.”

A bolt of lightning shoots down your spine and you drop to the floor so fast you wonder if you’ve cracked your kneecaps.

Or at least you would wonder if you cared at all.

You don’t.

You stare up at her through your eyelashes as you reach for the hem of her robes to pull them up, fumbling only for a moment when you find there are four layers to her robes.

Truly, far too much.

You disappear under the fabric and slide your hands up the outsides of her legs as you press your lips to the insides, dragging them from knee to hip on each leg.

You can’t see her from under her skirt, but you can feel her eyes boring into you as you finally reach the apex of her thighs, uninhibited by any sort of undergarment. A hand reaches under the fabric to tangle in the strands of your hair as you press a kiss to the sensitive skin you find there. Leaving you and her legs now exposed to the air.

When you look up you can see her staring down at you like a true predator and it sends a thrill through you.

“Tell me, Mother Miranda..” you whisper to God as you stare at her, your hands squeezing her outer thighs, “is this true worship? Or is it sacrilege?”

Her hand grips your hair tighter.

“Worship.”

(Then let us pray.)

That hand twists as you give one long lick along the outside of her core. Your clit throbs at the taste of her, at the way her nails scratch your scalp, at that slight jerk of her hips against your mouth. You repeat the action a little harder, again and again until you are overcome with a need to feel her jerk like that again, and you point your tongue to press in.

Her thighs clamp around your head and fuck does that fuel you as you work your tongue in and out of her, moaning into her heat to add to the vibrations.

If this is worship, you’re going to make sure she hears your prayer.

Her back arches away from where it rested against the wall and you can feel how she tightens around you, wrapping so deliciously against your tongue. 

“Do not- fuck- do not stop, dove.” She bites out breathily and you keen at how you’re able to make her lose her composure. Desperate to feel her lose complete control, you rip your tongue out of her to wrap your lips around her clit and suck. Hard.

You want her to see stars.

You want her to see her own damn God.

Her hand is so tight in your hair, you might lose some. Her thighs are gripping your head so hard it might crack. Her hips jerk against your mouth as she holds you to her, cutting off your ability to breathe as you hear her breath hitch and a wave of wetness coats your chin.

It’s glorious.

You give rough licks to her clit as she rides out the waves of her orgasm against your face, only stopping when she tugs your hair to pull you away from her. When you look up you can see her neck flushed, her chest heaving with breath, her eyes soft as they look down at you, and you feel your own softness come over you as you get another glimpse of the human inside of her.

She’s so beautiful.

Her hand releases its grip in favor of stroking your hair down where she bunched it up. The moment is so tender that you feel uncomfortable- like you don’t know how to handle a human Mother Miranda- so you take the opportunity to slowly stand on wobbly, sore legs, bringing your face to hers. 

That look is still in her eye, and funnily enough it feels alien because of the fact that it’s just so human. She seems so young like this- so vulnerable, and you feel like you’re seeing the panther’s soft underbelly.

Slowly. Carefully. Like you’d approach a small, woodland creature- you lean closer until you press your lips devastatingly gently to hers, your hands reaching up to softly cup her face. 

It truly surprises you when you feel her kiss you back, and for a moment you wonder if this has all been another one of your dreams since she kisses you so tenderly it feels like it might be someone else entirely. 

“My dove.”

The words are whispered out against your lips and it sends a shiver down your spine, not from the usual arousal, but from something else. Something soft. 

The wind outside shifts, and you cradle God in your arms.

Do y'all think Mother Miranda is in pain when her wings come out? 🤔 (Cuz they be literally tearing her flesh)

In The Eyes Of God - Part VI

The fields were ripe with blood

Mother Miranda x Reader/OC

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

When you wake this time, Mother Miranda is not marching through the room, not snatching up her clothing, not throwing you an annoyed look. Instead, she is pressed up against your back, her body completely melded against yours, and it feels so warm, so comfortable, so right. 

Small puffs of breath blow gently across the nape of your neck, and you can feel her hair tickling your cheeks where it has fanned out, covering both of you. You shift to turn in her arms so you can face her, but her hold cinches around your waist and she buries her face between your shoulder blades, her steel grip keeping you in place. Her hair falls over your eyes and you have to puff out a breath to remove it.

“Do not move.” She grumbles, her voice adorably full of sleep.

Ignoring her request, because how dare she deny you the image of her sleepy face, you wiggle around until your nose brushes hers. Your eyes travel her face, her long, blonde eyelashes, the slope of her nose, the puff of her lips– her top lip almost more full than the bottom, the two freckles that adorn her–

Ow!

“Did you just pinch me?” You ask incredulously, and a sleepy, satisfied smile pulls at her lips

“I told you not to move.”

Your lips purse, but you can’t find it in yourself to be too annoyed as she pulls herself into you, pressing her face into your neck as a single leg loosely slots between yours to entangle the two of you further. 

It’s oddly endearing, and you feel a wave of something new wash over you as you wrap one arm around her middle and snake one arm up to cup her head against you, cradling her into you. She feels so small when she’s like this, despite being a good half a foot taller than you, and you feel the need to shelter her from everything. 

How on earth was she able to make you feel that?

You’d seen this woman murder in front of you, and she’d killed how many countless before that? Christ, she’d overtaken an entire village for her own personal gain.

But here. Like this. In your arms… 

She was just a human looking for what we all want –to be loved.

She nuzzles her face further into your skin and–

Oh my godddd.

You want to cry with how unbelievably fucking cute it is. You feel like the Grinch at the end of that movie, your heart growing three sizes, swelling with this feeling.

Completely taken over with affection, you tilt your head down to press a kiss to the crown of her head before allowing your eyes to flutter shut, the warmth of her body lulling you back to a comfortable sense of sleep.

When your eyes blink open once more, your face is smashed into the crook of Mother Miranda’s neck, taking the spot she’d been in with you when you fell asleep. Your legs are tangled, your arms are wrapped around one another– you’re so hopelessly entangled you fear you may never be able to separate. 

Well, fear isn’t the right operative word…

You shove your face further down, trying to snuggle impossibly closer and a warm chuckle vibrates against your face before it reaches your ears.

“Comfortable?”

“Very.” You murmur, the words muffled by her skin. “I might never leave this spot.

You hear her hum in response and a single hand slides up from your back to gently card through your hair. You feel less perturbed by her actions this time, this new softness having settled in your mind and you sigh at the feeling of her nails lightly scratching your scalp.

Maybe… maybe it’s safe to be vulnerable…

“How long can I stay?” Your heart sinks at the thought of being without her once again. The week after your first night together had felt like a month of cold, sullen nothingness, and you weren’t looking forward to going through that again.

Mother Miranda gently peels you back from her by your hair and she looks at you with a pleased smile, though not quite as vulnerable as last night. “No need to worry about that any longer.”

You blink. 

“I’m not going back to Castle Dimitrescu?”

“Of course not. You belong here with me now.”

Wait. 

Hang on a minute.

She says it like it’s settled. Decided. Decided without you.

You blink again.

“Why?”

The priestess scoffs and fixes you with an impatient look. “Did you want to go back to being a maid?”

Frustration bubbles up in your chest. Obviously, no, you did not. The answer is that you very obviously want to stay here, in her arms, in her bed.

But what if you did want to go back?

Hmm?

Did she think of that? Or is she just making all of your decisions now?

“I want to be asked what I want to do.”

The blonde lets out a huff, her brows furrowed slightly, as though she had a script for you to follow that you were annoyingly deviating from. “I just asked you.”

You give a return huff. That hadn’t been a real question.

“So I can choose?”

Mother Miranda’s jaw works under her skin, and you can practically hear her teeth grind together. “Yes.”

You ponder your options for a moment. You want to stay here. To be near her– to see her– to touch her.

But your rebelliousness is winning. You can’t just let her control you. You weren’t one of those stockholmed villagers. 

“I want to go back to the castle.”

The air shifts.

“You want to go back to being a maid.” 

No. “Yes.”

Her grip in your hair tightens a miniscule amount. Fear begins to drip in your veins and you wonder if this is the last decision you’ll ever make.

But then her hand leaves your hair completely, not a strand yanked out, and she peels herself away from you, calmly striding out of the bed to pull on a gray robe and tie it neatly around her waist. You simply watch her with wide eyes as she crosses past the bed to her neat little work desk along the opposite wall.

She takes a seat and begins to shuffle through paperwork, and suddenly, you feel too naked. You cautiously crawl out of bed yourself to begin gathering up your clothes where they’d been discarded on the floor.

“Fine.” She gestures to the door without giving you so much as a glance. “Go then.” 

What?

You stare at her incredulously as you pull on your skirt. “...you’re not going to take me?”

“You want to go, you are free to go.”

She sounds bored. Indifferent. It stings.

“I don’t know where I am!” You protest, gaping at her. You’d never been anywhere but the village and the castle. How on earth were you supposed to find your way back? The two of you could have been transported to fucking Narnia for all you knew.

“That sounds like the problem of someone with free will.” 

It’s a dismissal.

Fine. 

Half-wounded, half-irritated, you take your free will with you as you stomp out the door into a heavily wooded area with nothing else in sight.

Great. So many landmarks to go by.

She wanted to be like that?

Fine.

You’d make it back to the castle just to spite her, if it was the last thing you did.

oOo

When you arrive at the castle door, wet and muddy –no, you didn’t trip and fall, that root reached up and grabbed you, thank you very much– you’re met with the pitious gaze of three cannibalistic women, staring at you from where they half hide behind the railing with big, round eyes, and you simply sigh, exhausted.

“I’m not mad.”

All three grin, and Daniella squeals as they swarm you, completely different from how they’d avoided touching you before you left the castle yesterday. It wasn’t their fault you’d had to make the four hour trek back to the castle, or that you’d been summoned to the village yesterday. Like everyone else, they weren’t exactly allowed to say ‘no’ to Mother Miranda.

Well, everyone except you apparently, as you stood there living and breathing.

Cassandra is the first to yank herself back and stare at you with a shit-eating grin. “Woof, you smell like sex.”

“Cassie.” Bela chides, flicking her sister in the face before pulling all three of them back from you.

“Welcome back, sweet girl.” A familiar warm voice coos and you turn to see the lady of the castle smiling down at you, though there is a twinge of concern in her eyes. “Girls, leave her be. There is much to do over the next few days, as you know.”

All three girls part from you, Cassandra pinching and poking at Bela as they go, making the blonde shove her so hard into the hallway wall that it leaves a dent.

You make to ask Lady Dimitrescu why there is so much work –you didn’t remember preparing for anything yesterday– but before you can, she ushers you down the hall and towards the maids quarters, insisting on a bath and a change of clothing for you, her nose crinkled up at your smell.

Which is so dramatic. You don’t smell that–

You lift your arm and sniff in a breath.

Okay.

Maybe you do.

You grouchily blame it on a certain Godly blonde.

By the time you’re done, the sun is lowering in the sky and you can feel the exhaustion from your past few days settling in your bones, beckoning you to sleep for the next week. You give into your bones begging and as soon as your face hits the pillow, you’re out like a light.

oOo

It’s strange, you think.

Your rag moves slowly and a bit aimlessly on the banner of the winding stair, missing the dust that’s collected there as you watch girl after girl walk through the door, led by a particularly buoyant Daniela. She throws a wink up at you as she dances towards the maids quarters with maybe twenty new girls in tow, and you simply stare at her open-mouthed.

“Wow, a lot of new maids today?”

Selene, the lady’s chambermaid, cleans with you today, having been asked to keep an eye on you for the time being.

“Mother Miranda made a great sacrifice yesterday– the harvest should be bountiful.” She retorts, her voice incredibly serious, and the way she delivers the information makes you cringe– like it’s a blessing.

“Many families lost their kin, but knew they could make up the cost by offering their daughters to the Lady Dimitrescu.”

Your brows furrow as you try to piece it all together.

“...Mother Miranda made a great sacrifice?”

You’d been with her yesterday. Why would she have gone off and–

Oh no.

“The fields were ripe with blood.” Cassandra’s raspy voice suddenly husks in your ear and you drop your rag.

“Fuck.”

“Language!” Selene chides and pinches your arm hard enough to bruise. You yelp and yank yourself away from her, wondering what on earth her fucking deal is, and it occurs to you briefly that if you pushed her over the railing, it’d at least maim her.

“It was a gift to watch…” The bloodthirsty cannibal lilts dreamily in your ear, reminding you of the way Daniela talked about romance novels. “I don’t know what you did, hot stuff, but it must have been bad.”

She giggles as she swarms away, leaving you with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Had Miranda really been so upset with you that she went on a murder spree?

“Pay her no mind.” Selene states, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You can see a sincerity in her eyes and… maybe you misjudged her. “Nothing you do could ever affect Mother Miranda.”

Okay. Nevermind.

Bitch.

Your eyes float down to the shiny, polished tile floor below.

Just one small push…

With a sigh you let it go.

It’s not Selene’s fault that you missed Mother Miranda, that you felt cold in her absence, that you made the decision to walk away from her. 

You almost regret it.

Almost.

But there’s no way in hell you’re to just let her keep you like some pet. She may be God, but you aren’t someone to be collared and leashed.

…

Okay. Maybe, in like, a fun and sexy way you might entertain the idea.

You sigh and resume your, albeit, shoddy cleaning job, now suddenly flooded with images of wearing a collar, yanked around by a certain cold, blonde priestess. Selene gives a few pointed huffs at your work, leaving streaks of dust pretty much everywhere, but decides to leave you mostly alone for the time being, and you’re grateful –a.k.a. worried that you might actually push her if she were to interrupt the depraved little play in your head.

Eventually, you slam your rag down on the ground, frustrated with only being able to visualize the woman, and stomp off towards the maids quarters, ignoring the indignant shriek of the girl behind you, irate that you just unloaded an entire rag’s full of dust all over the floor.

Whatever. 

You feel hot– both from the images and frustration at how things have played out over the last few days, and you need a cold shower. If Lady Dimitrescu decides to kill you for insolence –oh well.

The cold, hard water painfully pelts your skin, but you remain in the stream, the pain grounding you in the moment. 

For all your attempts not to, all you can think about is her. The way she looked at you so softly, held you so tightly. The blood and violence that comes along with her. You feel your heart squeeze, as though remembering a sweet moment. It’s an odd reaction, and it should probably bother you, but the murders themselves didn’t bother you much either. They excited you. 

You sigh again as you lean against the wall of the shower, sliding down to sit on the cold, concrete floor under the spray.

You wish you hadn’t left. All you want is to see her again. To see her roll her eyes, to argue with her, to feel her hands on your body…

Torn. That’s what you feel. Torn between wanting to give in, to be hers, the way she clearly wants you to be, and wanting to keep your grasp on the last shred of autonomy you have left. You don’t want to be some pet. You want to feel equal.

As equal as you can feel to God.

oOo

“Mother Miranda! Please–”

Maybe this will be the one that makes her feel better.

Another neck snaps. 

Another body hits the ground.

It doesn’t.

The wheat fields surrounding the village now have a pink glow in the late morning sun, yet the sight doesn’t fill her with the satisfaction she craves. There is still acid in her stomach and needles in her chest. 

Her head is filled with thoughts of you. 

Your face.

Your smell.

Your attitude– the one loathes to admit she likes.

A rogue young man, one about your age scutters away from her through the weeds, and her head snaps towards the movement. In a second, she is in front of him, fingers firmly gripping his head and jaw before she yanks it sideways and lets him fall to the ground.

(She wishes it was your neck she was snapping.)

The thought makes her feel a little better.

And yet.

Alive you were, back at Castle Dimitrescu. Neck intact.

Irritation blooms once again in her gut at the image of you walking out her front door, so infuriatingly defiant and independent, and her nail guards dig into her palm as she clenches her fist. It draws blood, though you wouldn’t be able to tell with how much of it she’s already covered in.

The sound of a woman’s cries reaches her ears and she turns to find a young woman collapsed over the body of her most recent victim. She looks up with big, round, watery eyes.

“Mother Miranda…” she sobs, “Mother Miranda, why have you forsak–”

She goes silent and there is more blood on Miranda’s hands. 

The priestess tilts her head curiously as she takes a good look at the woman. Her dirty blonde hair and soft skin reminds her of you, though not nearly as pretty. She lacks that special something you seem to possess. For the first time since she woke up this morning, a small smile pulls at her lips and she bends down to wrap her fist around the woman’s hair to drag her towards the forest.

oOo

A month.

It’s been a month since you walked out of Mother Miranda’s house.

A month since you’ve heard that cold, condescending, beautiful voice. Since you’ve seen those icy blue eyes. 

You almost want to stomp right back over there and demand her attention again –boldly assuming you remember the long trek from the castle to her house, and that you’d even make it back in one piece.

You dramatically sigh and tilt your head back against the wall where you lean, closing your eyes as you attempt to push away the headache that’s brewing behind your eyelids.

“Taking a little break?”

Your headache spikes.

Oh, come on.

Tilting your head to the side, lips already pursed, you glance upon a familiar face in the same maids outfit you’re wearing.

It’s Mouthy Mary from the kitchen. The one who ruined your dough.

You can feel your insides churn and fill with venom as she sneers at you, her own shirt buttoned far too low and her skirt riding far too high.

And she had the audacity to call you a slut.

“Yes.” You bite out, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. You were busy lamenting your own actions, couldn’t she just leave you alone?

“Looks like some of us get extra privileges these days…” She faux-coos at you, a smirk on her lips.

Oh, this bitch.

Something dark starts crawling up into your bones and you straighten your spine, stepping forward into her space. “What the fuck does that mean?”

She rolls her eyes, and boy, it is not cute like when Miranda does it.

“If any one of us were to be seen taking a break, we’d be dragged down to the cellar.” She responds flippantly, toying with a section of her hair, ignoring your closer proximity. “But I suppose when you’re a concubine…”

A con-

A concubine!?

Your. Blood. Is. Boiling.

What was this girl’s deal? What had you ever done to her? 

The dark thing inside of you is growing, snaking around your limbs, worming its way into your chest, into your head, and your eyes find the shiny, tile floor below once more.

So shiny.

Too shiny.

It might need a little something to take the shine out, you think.

Movement from the foyer doorway draws your attention and your eyes snap up to see– 

–God is watching you. 

Your breath freezes. Did you miss her so badly you were hallucinating? There’s no way she was really here, right? Your heart starts to gallop in your chest and your eyes are glued to her like you’re in a trance.

She tilts her head, reminiscent of the crows she commands, as her eyes survey the scene on the balcony.

The dark thing inside of you shivers and wraps around your heart as it grows, seeping into every nook and cranny, filling your insides completely. Much like the thoughts in your head, it feels comfortable– familiar. It’s meant to be there. Helping you. Guiding you.

“Did Mother Miranda take your tongue, too?”

You hear the words but you don’t see her mouth move. You only look at the blonde in the doorway. 

(You know what you want to do.)

Without shifting your gaze even a millimeter, you reach your hand up to place on Mouthy Mary’s shoulder and shove her hard, sending her tumbling over the railing, and your eyes remain on Mother Miranda as you hear the sickening crack below. 

She’s so far from you that it’s hard to see, but you’re pretty sure her eyes widen and you can see her lips part. 

That dark creature shivers where it rests, wrapped around your very being, and you don’t feel the same disgust from the act that you felt with Benjamin. You feel only pleasure.

A strong sense of satisfaction takes hold of you, too, like the one you felt before, but more prominent this time. You feel like you’ve made a sacrifice to her. An apology. A dare. A plea.

Please take me back. Please still want me. Please don’t abandon me now.

A blur of black begins to swirl around the priestess, crows cawing and flapping as they surround her in a blur, and in the blink of an eye, she’s gone. You feel your heart sink with disappointment –that was not the response you were hoping for.

Guess you’d really stepped in it when you walked out that door weeks ago. 

“What did she do to deserve that?”

Your entire body jolts at the familiar voice murmuring in your ear and your heart shoots up into your throat with excitement, your hair standing on end, even your skin buzzing.

Hot breath fans across your ear and neck and you can feel her robes brushing up against the fabric of your own clothing behind you.

You glance down over the balcony for the first time to see the freshly dead maid sprawled out on the floor, her limbs bent at an awkward angle, and the red that’s seeping out against the tile shines so pretty in the candle light.

“She irritated me.” You whisper and Mother Miranda chuckles behind you.

“Poor thing.” She faux-coos and her lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “Will you try to kill me, then?”

The question catches you off guard and you turn your head so as to be able to see her from your periphery. “Like I could.”

“Mmm, that’s not an answer, little dove.”

You turn your head back to look at the dead maid, using every ounce of willpower that you have to keep from spinning around and smashing your face into the blonde’s. “You’re different.”

“How sweet of you.” She taunts and you lock a slightly irritated look onto your face before finally spinning around to face her.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” You ask, trying to seem indifferent, if not annoyed, but the tone of your voice gives you away. You’ve missed her so desperately that you’re sure she can probably smell it on you.

Mother Miranda raises an eyebrow with a small smirk. “I have come to the conclusion that I need a research assistant. You are the only educated option.”

Your heart flips in your chest at the prospect, but you remain silent. She cannot continue to demand from you, and now that she’s here in front of you again, you find your resolve fortifying.

Miranda stares daggers into you as the two of you lock into a stalemate, and after a few moments, you raise a single eyebrow and tilt your head. She rolls her eyes.

God, you missed that.

“Would you…” The words are forced out, as though it takes a herculean effort, and you can see her clenching her teeth so hard it must be giving her a tension headache, “...like to come work at my lab as my assistant?”

“Yes.” Comes your immediate answer and a satisfied smile spreads across your lips.

Her eyes soften the tiniest bit, and you could be imagining it, but you decide to believe there’s a bit of relief in them at your response –but it only lasts a moment before she studies your smug expression and a wicked smirk crosses her face. “As my assistant, you will be required to stay in my accommodation, as I will need immediate access to you.”

“That makes sense.” You respond, elated at how you were asked, as well the idea of being around the priestess regularly.

“Perfect.” She smiles wide, and her teeth somehow look sharper than before. “Come along, dove. We need to get you settled.”