#brxssknuckld

[dragoonxdive]

@brxssknuckld​ said: “you want me to rub your back ’til you fall asleep?” :3

All of this was too much. Aranea had never been entirely fond of Niflheim Empire in the first place, but it was becoming worse with each passing day. They were DANGEROUS; they wanted to control everything and everyone, and working with daemons and turning people into them while experimenting was just too much. She had been forced to kill one of her men that day because of that, and she hated it.

She also hated showing VULNERABLE parts of herself, but she was also glad Jacob was at her side. She usually kept flirting with him, but right now, she wanted real comfort, and she was glad he was there to give her some.

“I want you to stay with me, pretty boy.” Aranea admitted, only half-teasing. “But rubbing my back would be a good start.” 

POST-TRAUMA SENTENCE STARTERS | ACCEPTING

[multimana]

@brxssknuckld​

    A laugh escaped her as she walked into the foyer. “My - and here I was expecting you later. Did something come up for you to be able to see me sooner? Either way, I am thankful for this surprise, Mister Frye,” Pearl smiled, closing the door of her townhouse behind her. “I see George let you in? Unless you slipped in from a window, of course.”

[thefifthtm]

@brxssknuckld​ liked this for a starter.

“Colour me a tad intrigued regarding these Pieces of Eden that your Brotherhood are so determined to acquire - how old are they, and where do they come from?”

[worldly-diversity]

   ❛   tell me. in your mind , what are we doing in that bed ? are we fucking nice and slow or are you making me sweat for it ?    ❜    — Jacob & Templar Arno — ( @brxssknuckld )

Arno regarded the other with a raised brow at that, his lips twitching in amusement. He'd been pointed in the direction of the large bed certainly, but Jacob had discounted the book in his hands and the fact that his attention was elsewhere. Naturally, it had been firmly caught now.

Ah, or perhaps that was his intention? Jacob did have lovely libido and stamina and Arno certainly enjoyed taking advantage of that even when he himself wasn't directly in the mood to play. That's what inspiration from the underground clubs was for, after all.

Calmly and deliberately he picked up his bookmark and marked the page he was on before setting the tome down and uncrossing his legs in what Jacob may well constitute as encouragement. He did so like it when the other came to sit on the floor beside him and leaned against his legs though… It was fun to rake his fingers through the other's hair and watch him melt beneath the touch.

Jacob is more lucky than he knows, he muses briefly, as had they been in Paris still, Arno would not have allowed himself or the other this reprieve from their respective lives. He would have taken everything Jacob had to offer, made him dependant, and then used that dependance to get his claws into the Brotherhood. Such betrayal… Ah but then the question remained. By that point, would the other even care? His lips twitched at the thought.

It's rare he gets in mindsets like these. Jacob is used to seeing him either tactile and vulnerable, or playful and commanding. The times the grandmaster he has become comes out to play are rare, far and few in between for it is a life he did not choose. But it is a part of him now, and the reports he was reading, carefully hidden among innocuous things and not giving them any special importance to keep Jacob from noticing them, had come from home which meant he always resumed that role by necessity of the situation. He could not afford to make mistakes, especially when he wasn't present to set the fools straight in person.

"Did you get excited watching me doing something so dull as reading a book, dear pet?" He hums, his smirk one of careful thought and calculation. He rather thinks the other will be thrilled by the sight of it, for it means Arno intents to own him quite thoroughly.

Eyeing the bed a moment longer he smirked and rose from his seat to approach the other and run his nails over Jacob's scalp. Once his hand reached the back of his head he pushed, causing the other to stumble in the direction of the bed. "Let's find out, shall we? Strip."

It had become a habit not to wear much when they were alone in general, but they'd established some base rules after walking around naked had caused several impromptu sessions that had kept the both of them from their respective work. A few rules really did wonders to keep order…

He smiled sharply as Jacob obeyed the order and settled on the bed out of well-trained habit. Arno himself meanwhile began undoing the buttons of his shirt before carefully setting it aside so it would not stain or wrinkle. Then he made his way over to what Jacob had once referred to as the play closet, a term that had stuck somehow. From it he removed his favourite broad leather cuffs and a mixed box of toys. He enjoyed storing them as such despite his desire to keep them organised because Jacob had memorised what was in each box and Arno didn't like it when the other predicted his actions, took the fun out of it a little.

Jacob would still know which toys were in the box, thus deducing the kind of mood Arno was in, without getting any specifics either; it was a handy arrangement that suited them both just fine.

Moving back to the bed he set the box down on the nightstand with the lid still closed and settled beside him, guiding his wrists up with light touches to his arm, attaching the first cuff with a contented smile and looping the chain that connected it to the other through the metal bar built into the otherwise ornate wooden headboard. "What is your safe word, dear?" He murmured, knowing the answer though always reaffirming before he considered restraining the other. The cuffs and chain could handle the other's struggles, which meant he did not want him to panic and hurt himself trying to get away.

Teeth peeked out to bite at his lip as he watched the other settle comfortably. Ah, the temptation to blindfold him was rising again but he pushed it back with the ease of practice. Now tied down, Jacob could not see the contents of the box directly and he lightly rooted through it. His fingers closed around one of the longer phallic objects, though the term 'dildo' still sounded vulgar to him. He set it aside out of view and opened the bedside drawer instead, which was always equipped with plenty of lube and condoms, though he didn't much care for the latter.

"Do you want me to walk you through what I'll be doing?" He purred as he settled between the other's leg with the bottle. Doing so would include everything he's got planned for now, from opening him up on his fingers nice and slow 'till he's whimpering for more, to filling him with that toy and keeping a lovely slow pace intent on making him feel every single bit of movement.

He intended to have fun with this and leave Jacob a beautiful begging mess before he finally took him. This would be fun~

[braverook-a]

@brxssknuckld​ asked: FrIsKy [cause why have only one jacob when you can have *two* xD]

training  with  jacob  and  fighting  with  jacob  were  two  completely  different  disciplines.  as  a  rook  being  trained  to  fight  as  a  team,  with  partners  and  friends,  under  jacob  meant  listening  and  taking  in  turns  ---  he  was  a  great  teacher  after  all,  and  usually  the  sessions  would  have  both  compliments  and  criticism  to  work  on  for  the  next  day.  a  lot  of  the  time,  jacob  would  use  defence  techniques  and  wouldn’t  fight  to  harm  the  others.

fighting  jacob,  on  the  other  hand,  meant  there  was  nothing  being  held  back  and  you  could  easily  be  out  of  action  for  months  at  a  time  ;  only  the  bravest  of  rooks  would  dare  to  take  him  on  especially  within  the  pits  of  the  underground  fight  clubs,  and  those  who  did  wouldn’t  be  seen  out  and  about  until  they  had  fully  recovered.  

it  was  never  malicious  from  either  party,  fightclubs  were  good  money  if  you  lasted  until  the  last  round  and  even  if  the  rooks  lost,  that  money  still  ended  up  around. 

danny  had  never  fought  against  jacob,  let  alone  in  an  area  he  was  an  expert  in.  hell,  they  hadn’t  even  realised  jacob  had  entered  the  same  match  as  them  until  they  had  spotted  him  while  watching  from  the  sidelines.  the  fight  was  a  simple  one:  whoever  made  it  through  the  usual  brutes  would  then  have  to  take  on  the  reigning  champion  ---  that  champion  had  been,  for  the  last  few  months,  danny.  and  of  course  who  made  it  to  that  challenge  ?  jacob.  the  fight  was  cruel,  difficult,  punches  landed  on  one  another  without  backing  down.  both  balanced  each  other,  when  an  arm  reached  out,  a  leg  would  mirror  and  strike,  they  both  knew  each  other’s  defense  techniques  and  how  to  bypass  them,  even  using  tricks  learnt  on  each  other  to  grab  that  title.

while  it  was  entertaining  to  watch,  it  was  evident  there  might  not  be  a  winner,  and  the  the  audience  getting  bored  topping  had  decided  for  the  best  to  make  it  a  tie  and  for  them  to  continue  it  another  day,  perhaps  with  more  opposition  and  new  rules  to  make  it  dirty.  but  man,  danny  saw  that  look  in  jacob’s  eyes  when  he  stopped  the  match  and  it  was  a  fire  the  young  rook  never  wanted  to  see  directed  at  them. 

so  they  weren’t  surprised  when  jacob  had  them  pinned  when  they  had  returned  to  the  rook  hideout.  the  height  difference  wasn’t  much  between  them  but  the  way  jacob’s  head  hung  above  them  and  the  way  danny’s  body  shrunk  into  the  wall  only  seemed  to  heighten  that  gap.  the  room  was  quiet  bar  their  heavy  breathing,  tensions  still  alert  from  their  fight  earlier,  adrenaline  being  the  main  culprit  of  both  their  behaviours.  jacob’s  hands  were  the  first  to  move  from  their  position  above  the  rook,  the  rough,  fast  touch  hoisting  them  up  onto  the  same  level  before  grasping  tightly  around  their  back  and  lower  half,  before  danny  felt  their  way  around  their  body  gripping  every  unmarked  area.  even  if  they  had  tried,  nothing  could  have  stopped  the  throaty  moan  which  forced  its  way  through  gritted  teeth,  nor  the  way  the  older  rook’s  own  hands  dragged  up  across  jacob’s  chest  to  his  hair  and  brought  him  down  into  a  heated,  tensed  kissed  fuelled  by  their  earlier  fight. 

[leadrook-a]

@brxssknuckld​  asked:  Jacob  merely  provides  a  spare  bottle  to  pass  to  his  double.  "Yeah.  I  know."

sullen  eyes  make  little  effort  to  remove  their  gaze  from  the  spot  on  the  bar  when  the  voice  of  his  double  perks  up.  the  bottle  which  passes  to  him  only  adds  to  the  accumulation  already  settled  &  emptied  in  front  of  them  both,  the  only  acknowledgement  jacob  gives  is  when  his  gloved  hand  reaches  to  fiddle  with  the  opening.  

maxwell  roth.  originally  a  thorn  in  starrick’s  side  jacob  had  been  ordered  to...  take  care  of.  but  instead  they  ended  up  a  team.  he’d  forgotten  what  it  had  been  like  to  rebel  every  so  often,  to  see  what  it  would  be  like  from  another  perspective,  templars  taking  down  templars  ---  the  way  roth  handled  it  gave  that  spark  of  passion  jacob  never  knew  existed  within  his  own  body.  the  manic,  chaotic  ways  of  a  flamboyant  madman  had  gripped  onto  every  fibre  of  jacob’s  mind,  always  clinging  on,  always  in  the  depths  of  his  emotions  wondering  when  their  next  meeting  would  be.  that  happened  for  months. 

taking  down  corrupt  blighters,  playing  for  the  other  team,  to  have  someone  who  acted  in  kind  to  him  and  respected  him  as  an  individual,  roth  was  someone  who  cherished  jacob’s  own  chaotic  ways  not  to  snub  them  ;  it’s  what  made  jacob  fall  for  him  that  bit  faster. 

around  roth,  jacob  felt  like  he  could  be  his  own  person,  not  a  bird  trapped  in  a  cage  of  people  making  decisions  and  choices  for  him.  he  had  found  someone  on  par  with  him,  someone  who  saw  through  the  corrupt  system  of  the  templar  order  and  wanted  to  take  it  down  for  peace  of  freedom  ---  and  one  with  the  same  violent,  romantic  urges  which  had  struggled  within  jacob’s  own  mind  for  years.  the  pet  names  of  dear  and  love  now  tainted  with  the  memory  of  what  true  freedom  may  cause.  

it’s  all  still  too  fresh.  the  burnt  oak  wood  which  stained  jacob  in  both  scent  and  on  skin  had  been  etched  into  the  form  of  scars  and  fresh  marks,  the  sight  of  the  fire  from  both  the  children’s  factory  and  the  alhambra  music  hall  could  still  be  seen  every  time  jacob  closed  his  eyes.  but  even  after  all  that,  and  the  nightmares  he  knows  which  will  haunt  him,  the  thing  which  tainted  him  the  most,  which  will  forever  paint  a  bruise  onto  his  lips,  was  the  kiss  that  roth  gave  him.  the  cold,  yet  warm  feeling  of  pressure  still  lingered  upon  his  own,  the  way  that  his  chest  filled  with  love  and  disgust,  with  anticipation  and  abhorrence  ;  the  final  note  of  goodbye  forever  locked  up  and  tormenting  him  for  the  rest  of  his  life.

the  worst  part  was  knowing  they  had  both  loved  each  other.

in  all  this  he  realises  how  much  he  and  his  double  have  in  common.  the  words  i  know  sink  that  little  bit  deeper  within  jacob’s  mind  to  slightly  bring  him  from  a  trance  and  his  gaze  finally  moves  to  where  his  double  was.  behind  those  same,  yet  different  eyes,  the  feeling  of  mourning  and  loss  was  still  there,  but  fired  with  something  a  little  distinct.  he  knows  his  twin  is  an  assassin,  perhaps  in  their  world  roth  had  the  same  ideology  and  was  able  to  reel  jacob  in  like  a  fish  with  bait.  whichever  it  was,  all  jacob  knew  now  was  he  would  be  the  only  other  person  in  the  world  who  understood  just  how  he  felt.  he  can’t  imagine  the  pain  this  jacob  went  through  if  he  had  to  struggle  alone.  

the  hand  which  fiddled  with  the  bottle  now  picked  it  up  and  clinked  it  against  the  other,  a  small  foreign  smile  making  an  appearance  as  he  does,  before  returning  it  to  the  bar.

[moltementi]

“You truly believe you were helping them?” [brxssknuckld to ardyn owo]

@brxssknuckld | AssCreed Asks! | Accepting

“Oh yes. I told you, dearheart, that the Military Commander could be quite… waspish. Moreso if those under his command do naught as they’re told.”

               “So I’m scaring them into their drills~.”

[onlyliberty-a]

@brxssknuckld asked:  “You’ve got a fever. Of course I’m not going anywhere.” LET JAKE HELP FEEL BETTER]

Anne doesn’t get sick often, but when she does it’s usually bad. 

As dirty as it was, Nassau had been fine for the most part. Those that were ill often spend their time in the open air and the cleanness of it had prevented from growing ill too often. London, however, was a lot more closed off than the pirate’s utopia had been with it’s narrow streets, it’s tall sloping buildings and the business of the streets. Jacob lands at her door to see if she was free to help with something and Anne was so light headed that she’d struggled to stand completely upright without leaning against the door frame.

In hindsight, she ought to have tried to not look so dead on her feet and he might not have protested at  her reaching for her coat. Jacob swats her hand away from the soft leather and Anne has the audacity to look mildly offended at the gesture. 

“Jacob, ‘m grand-- lessgo--!”

The Englishman gives her a look that’s equal measures of disbelief and amusement. There’s nothing more pathetic than how she looks now, her hair a mess of curls and its tendrils clinging to the sweat at her brow and as pale as a ghost (in comparison to her usual colour, she looks almost grey). 

“No you’re not, and I shan’t take no for an answer.” 

Hands rest against her shoulders and he uses a gesture to force her to turn on her heel and make her way towards the battered couch in her living room. The flat wasn’t much to look at, but she’d tried to make a home of it the best she could on a teacher’s wage, and making rent had been the utmost important priority. Then food, then heat. The latter of which hadn’t been sorted for a while because it was difficult to build a fire when she was so dizzy-headed when she bent down.

With a small huff, she sinks down into the cushions of it and tries to stop her teeth from chattering.

“I told ye I’m grand.”