zeldathemes
Every beat of my hearts
For two centuries, he suffered, lost to the Time Lock, and it nearly destroyed him. He emerged from his prison a broken, vicious thing. He isn't healed, but he's found his life is not the ruin he expected.

((Singleverse Master roleplay blog. All new partners will be assumed to be mainverse. Please read the about page for any pertinent information. This blog will sometimes be NSFW. It will be tagged accordingly. If you wish to rp with me, please give some indication you have read at least this description and preferably my about page. It should help alleviate any confusion or incorrect assumptions, and I always read the pertinent info any potential partner puts out there. I'd just ask the same respect. Thanks!))

((In the interest of giving credit, the gorgeous artwork for the banner was done by the fantastic artist here))

amixofwords:

the blood will always
                              stain 
                                      my hands

and no matter
how much i
                 clean
                        them
the
     blood
             still
                   remains
                              under
                                      my
s   k   i   n

As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

It’s terrible, yes, but it’s a more manageable pain, though he’s filled with regret for what he’d pulled the Master into. He’s terribly sore all over, feeling the dull ache of bruises and claw marks alongside everything else, and has no doubt the Master’s feeling something similar. However he might feel, pulling away from the Master’s touch after all that is entirely out of the question.

Still guilt makes him flinch, and if they’re both a mess, it’s not important. Hesitantly he presses into the touch as the Master wraps around him, one hand reaching back in a way that allows his to brush his fingertips lightly across his lover’s skin, if he still doesn’t look up. It’s something though, and his trembling begins to ease, his breathing becoming a bit more even as he struggles to pull himself together.

Grief keeps him quiet. The whole situation is distressingly familiar, and he wants nothing to do with it but to forget. He aches too, though the pain is slightly less physical, and there’s nothing for it but to soldier on. 

He’s not trying to look at the Doctor anymore. The Master folds his arms around the Doctor, in an effort to soothe, but there is no light in his eyes, and his limbs hold no life of their own. He only ever means to be good to the Doctor after all they’ve both been through, but this isn’t good. This is only more pain and if he had it in him to be angry, he’d be furious or betrayed . 

  #andtheywillobeyme  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

If anything could heal the Doctor’s pain, it certainly wouldn’t be that, but it helps somehow and if nothing else, it’s worn him thin in every way, a strange sort of numbness settling over his hearts in the aftermath. It’s the only balm he has, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling ashamed as he collapses onto the mattress beside his lover.

It’s left him shaken and trembling, his breathing uneven, still unable to look his lover in the eye. He’s so ashamed, and alongside everything else as he settles, there’s the urge to flee all over again. Despite that he manages to stay put, albeit silently, and his face remains buried in the sheets near one of his arms to hide his expression. 

The Master frowns as he looks at the Doctor, not particularly pleased with the way his lover still won’t look at him. They’ve tried this the Doctor’s way, and he’s had enough of it to last a life time. All it’s left him feeling is terrible. 

Before the Doctor can begin to act on the urge to flee, the Master curls an arm around him. He doesn’t care about the mess or the pain in his hearts. All that matters is making the Doctor stay, and if he wants to shout himself blue in the face, he doesn’t. Ignoring how hot and sticky they both are, he curls obstinately around the Doctor, keeping him close. 

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw    #ish  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

There’s a stuttered, painful sound that he can’t quite hide, and it’s quickly quieted, the tightness in his chest loosening with every harsh thrust of the Master’s hips. It’s obvious what the Master’s doing, or rather it would be, but the Doctor’s too far gone in this to make any sort of protest, and his head bows further, allowing the Master further access to his neck, shivering from the overwhelming onslaught of sensation.

Climax hits him very suddenly, sharp and so acute it’s almost painful, wrenching a gasp from him that chokes off into something closer to a sob, and it’s all he can do not to slump forward, somehow managing to hold himself upright.

He isn’t far behind when it comes down to it. They are engaging in a means to an end, and the sound the Doctor makes only drives him on, eager to tip over  the edge and be done with it. His thrusts turn quick and shallow, and eventually his teeth stop digging into the Doctor’s skin. Instead, his forehead presses between his lover’s shoulder blades, breath coming is stuttered gasps. 

It’s a bit anticlimactic, but he comes, hard, buried inside the Doctor. The sound he makes teeters between pleasure and anguish, and he sags against his lover’s back briefly before gathering to coherence to pull out and slump beside the other Time Lord instead. 

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

It’s painful, a rhythmic agony and it leaves his breathing harsh and heavy as he tries to keep himself from crying out, or at the very least making any of this worse for either of them. The shift in the Master’s grip almost makes him lose his balance, and there’s a stuttered gasp before one of the Doctor’s hands slides forward on the mattress to keep himself upright.

The feeling of the Master’s teeth clamped down on the back of his neck brings a wash of pleasure along with it, however, heightening everything, and if it’s vicious, it’s enough to make him forget the rest, focusing entirely on the feeling of the Master inside him, against him. If it hurts, it feels good, too, and his teeth sink roughly into his lower lip as the ongoing, albeit odd mixture between pain and pleasure draws him closer to the edge.

Every movement seems harder and faster, as if the Master is trying to escape too, to forget the truth of what they’re doing. He’s mildly surprised the Doctor doesn’t pull away, but then again, maybe he’s not. The gesture is a demand of sorts, an insistence on submission that he’d never think to ask for these days. 

He asks for it now, shifting his angle slightly in an effort to tip the scales ever so slightly in the direction of pleasure rather than pain. It’s still rough and quick and terrible, but his mouth moves over the back of the Doctor’s neck, and there’s slightly more finesse to his movements as he divorces himself from his own distress. 

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

The Doctor allows the Master to pull him up, his own chest heaving because this is awful, and he hates it, but he needs this. A different sort of pain he can deal with no tenderness, no understanding attached. The Master’s viciousness is better, somehow, because if he doesn’t matter, if he’s nothing, he doesn’t have to feel anything other than what’s happening to him right at this moment.

The harsh intrusion is enough to make his eyes water, and he’s glad the Master can’t see his expression. Like this, he can’t consider anything else, and so he grips tightly at the sheets, head bowed and jaw taut as he bares his teeth, clenching them together to stifle any cries of pain.

He hates them both for this. It’s entirely too near what he suffered through, and he loves the Doctor so much that anything less than that feels wrong. The Time Lord doesn’t stop though. He pulls back only to snap his hips forward again, each thrust an angry, grieving assault on the Doctor’s body. 

It’s instinct or fatigue or any other number of things that make him lean forward. Steadying his hands on the Doctor’s hips, he doesn’t slow down, but he presses against his lover’s back. It brings his mouth near do the nape of the Doctor’s neck and there’s no hesitation before he bites down. It straddles the line between pleasure and pain more neatly than anything else he’s doing at the moment. The act is animalistic and aggressive, a claim entirely unlike the ones he normally lays on the Doctor. He means it though, in his own way, and though there’s a point, he gives no clue as to what it might be.

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  
  #andtheywillobeyme  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

The Master isn’t the only one leaving marks behind, and it’s horrible; his lover shouldn’t have to suffer because he is right now, but it’s as though it’s worn him down entirely, leaving behind only sharp ridges and valleys, glass and stone, and there’s no way for him to separate the pain he’s causing from what he already feels himself. 

The rough treatment leaves him gasping, and as his lover shifts away he understands, he knows what he’s doing, after all, and his hands fall away from his lover when the Master shoves at him, an angry, answering growl echoing in his throat before he rolls onto his stomach, hands fisting in the sheets.

He’s no victim. It’s an entirely willing sacrifice, and in the moment he can almost convince himself he’s not paying any price at all. After all It’s not physically forced, and if it’ snot the way he’d want things, aren’t relationships about compromise? It doesn’t feel like love or affection or even pleasure, but he always means to be what the Doctor needs, and if that means this… well here he is. 

There’s only a faint tremor in his breathing to give away his distress, the fact that no no, he’d stop if he could because they’re not supposed to be like this at all. They’re different creatures now, but he doesn’t speak up. The Master only yanks violently on the Doctor’s hips, forcing him to his hands and knees. Detached as he is from the act, his hands move of their own accord, dragging along his cock before he settles behind the Doctor.

It’s vicious. There’s no love or kindness when he cants his hips forward, and he can’t stop, can’t think, or he’ll focus too much on a terrible sort of familiarity. 

  #nsfw    #andtheywillobeyme  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

Were he in his right mind, he’d undoubtedly be appalled by the way he’s coerced his lover into this in such a way, for this reason. It’s distraction, but in a more twisted fashion, it’s a form of penance, and it’s so very, very wrong of him to use his lover this way. He knows that, especially after all the other ways he’s wronged the other Time Lord…and yet he can’t stop himself.

Still avoiding the Master’s gaze, he does the only thing he can think to do, and shifts to bring his lover’s lips again to his own and if it’s no less brutal, his touch no less demanding, there’s an apology hidden within it, too.

He can’t. He can’t, because sex is one thing, but there’s an intimacy, a vulnerability and affection he associates with kissing that’s completely devoid of this. To kiss the Doctor right now feels like a mockery of everything they’ve become. Instead, he pulls his head away to kiss the Doctor’s skin instead of his lips, leaving a crime scene in his wake. There will be bruises later, where his teeth found flesh or his nails found purchase, vicious red lines that criss cross the scars his other self left.

It’s not long before he pulls his fingers free, the motions more a means to an end than an intent to offer any sort of pleasure. The Master snarls as he shoves at his lover, trying to roll the other Time Lord over. There’s an ulterior motive, but in the moment, it’s hard to say if the motion is for the Doctor’s sake or his own. 

  #andtheywillobeyme  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

It’s the Doctor that wants this, that’s all but begged for this from his lover, but if it means he’s desperate, that doesn’t make him blind. This entire time he’s avoided meeting the Master’s eyes, and as much as he feels this is what he needs, it would be a lie to say he didn’t hate himself for it, too. 

His grip on his lover tightens at the intrusion, his breathing shallow and quick and if he recognizes the one tender gesture that’s happened between them, he gives no sign of it. Knowing what he’s doing, he’d only feel more ashamed. As it is, he turns his face away from his lover and into the mattress, fingers still gripping and sliding across whatever skin he can reach.

There’s a creature in him that’s buried deep, but not quite dead, even after all this time. It’s a soul deep bitterness that makes him think, just for a second, how painful he could make this. More than what he’s gotten himself into, more than the Doctor’s refusal to speak, he hates himself for that one, insignificant, momentary thought. Refusing to dwell on it though, he sets to work, working the Doctor open just enough. It will probably still hurt, but given that seems to be what the Doctor wants, he doesn’t worry too much about that. 

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  

Forward Unto You | anechooffour

purgatorydancer:

 

He shrugged lightly. “There is a difference between what I do, and what I have done,” came out thoughtfully, softly. But then Ze’ev was smiling at the Master with his head tipped slightly to the side in mirror to the older man. “At present, I am a dancer. Sometimes that means dancing on the floor with patrons, sometimes it means pole-dancing. A lot of the time it involves stripping for the crowd, and considering how infrequently my people are seen here, the club is virtually guaranteed to be packed when I have the stage.”

The Master would eventually have to know the whole. But…how do you tell someone? Generally one wouldn’t say at first meeting, ‘by the way, I was trained from childhood in the art of seduction, manipulation, and killing. I hope that doesn’t bother you’.

So Ze’ev left that for the moment.

"I know people have a low image of the intelligence of dancers, but the work is enjoyable. And it certainly pays well, even in a flagging economy. People need a morale boost during war." Ze’ev shrugged and sighed. A hand idly traced meaningless patterns on his soul mate’s side. "And sometimes they need companionship. I listen to them, and more. Does that bother you?"

Ze’ev was hardly the only one with secrets. The Master wasn’t keen on telling his soul mate how he’d come to be here just yet. After all, while the madness that plagued him wasn’t his fault, it was a shame he couldn’t bring himself to share with this stranger. More importantly, it didn’t make him an innocent party. He had still murdered and destroyed. His charm and warmth toward the Drell made him no less cold and cruel where the rest of universe was concerned.

"Are you asking if I’m willing to share you?" The Master gave Ze’ev a slightly crass smile. "My dear, I haven’t had you.”

It’s not an answer, not really. It’s more just levity to dodge what he guesses Ze’ev is truly asking. It remains to be seen if this soul mate bit is true at all, and though the Master isn’t prone to sharing, he wasn’t prone to superstition either until the Drell came along.

  #purgatorydancer    #soulmate!au  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

Necessary a step as this is, it doesn’t stop the Doctor from being impatient in his current state, and he bucks against the Master’s touch, hands dragging along the Master’s chest and shoulders, growling, teeth scraping against his lover’s lower lip.

His actions are ones that could’ve been familiar so very long ago, and yet they aren’t, sharp edges hiding the underlying distress as well as he can manage as he hastily urges the Master on. 

Physically pleasurable as all this is, the Master hates it. He hates everything about what they’re doing, but he does it anyway, because he loves the Doctor more that he hates his own discomfort. Maybe someday they’ll do this simply because it’s fun and not because the Doctor is running from something again. 

Whatever it is, the Master is compliant, willing himself to be swept up in the Doctor’s fervor. It works enough to throw himself into the moment at least, and he doesn’t tease or make this any easier on either of them. The only suggestion that there is any fondness in him at all is the way he presses his nose to the crook of the Doctor’s throat, not looking at his lover at all as he presses roughly in with two fingers.

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

It feels better to be used like this, albeit in a twisted sort of way, and whether he’s actually enjoying this or not is unclear, even to him. He thinks he is, but then, he’s not considering much else other than that it’s something different. Whether it’s truly pleasant or not is entirely a moot point. 

It’s what he wants though, he’s fairly certain, and now that his lover seems to be going along with this fully, he plans to let him take away until there’s nothing left of him, nothing left to feel the way he does. That doesn’t make him a passive observer by any means however, and his brutality with the way his fingers grip and pull at the Master, the way he arches up to sink his teeth in the tender spot between neck and shoulder carries so much of the creature was when they first met, back when this was his only real defense. There’s a muffled groan against the other Time Lord’s mouth when his lover touches him, the Doctor’s hips canting forward automatically in response before he’s left gasping, wanting; a puppet on the Master’s strings. 

Under any other circumstances, he’d probably revel in this. As it is, he simply loses himself in the sensation. There will be time to work out the rest later. He doesn’t spare the attention to what he’s doing, far more interested in catching the Doctor’s mouth against his own. 

He’s all teeth and rough touches, letting go only to slick his fingers before settling between his lover’s leg’s. He’s not gentle or seductive, though he drags his hand over the Doctor’s length a few times before shifting further back. 

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  
As the baby is sleeping. I propose popcorn and bad telly. It seems like that kind of night.


andtheywillobeyme:

andtheywillobeyme:

[There’s a quiet hum and a nod, though he doesn’t quite look up. It’s not often they have much time just to themselves, but he has quite a few things on his mind.]

'Kay. I'll go make some in a minute.

 

Under normal circumstances, it would be easy to get lost in this. It’s harder now, but that doesn’t stop him from trying, and he’s certainly getting there. As much as the Master was giving him before, he can still feel the change, and he moves with the Master’s rough handling, arching up and moaning against the other Time Lord’s mouth as he spreads his thighs further apart, relishing the blunt scrape of nails along the inside of his thigh before matching it with his own mark against his lover’s neck and shoulder, encouraging.

He gives in, a little and then all at once. There is nothing of the warmth usually directs at his lover. Instead, he is all sharp edges and rough touches, rutting against the Doctor as if he were little more than a plaything. It’s reminiscent of the creature he once was, in the beginning, and he hates himself, just a bit, for enjoying it on a physical level.  

His fingers find their way to the Doctor’s cock, and he palms at it for a moment, the gesture accompanied by a harsh, demanding kiss, barely giving his lover room to breathe. It’s a momentary action before he lets go, reaching for the bed side drawer. 

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw  

king-of-the-wasteland:

anechooffour replied to your post:xxx
((*all the hugs*))

((Thanks :) Though hugs of support aren’t necessary here, I appreciate it all the same. I meant me being a mess in happy and very surprised kind of way. Sorry if I confused/worried you))

((ehehe no. They were just in general hugs <3 ))