#60% of male leads be like

[l1tw1ck]

In Exchange

Sub!Bottom!FTM Sam Winchester x Dom!Top!Male Reader

☆ Word Count: 3,617 ☆

AFAB Language Used

blacked out every time i wrote this like jekyll and hyde 😭 /j

CW: Non-Con, Sexual Coercion, Drugging, Blowjob, Cum Swallowing, Creampie, Pregnancy Mention, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Puppy Play (Collar, Puppy Sam), Nipple Sucking, Riding, Corruption

“Excuse me, are you [Name]?” Sam walks up to you as you're smoking outside a bar.

“What's it to you?”

“I’m Joseph Johnson. I'm a detective.” Sam shows you his badge just long enough for you to believe him. “I’d like to ask you some questions about the recent incident.”

“Then you’d better give up and ask someone else.”

Sam looks at you in dismay. “You're the only living witness, we won't be able to get anywhere without you!”

“I’m not sharing anything without something in return.”

He perks up. “I've got about 60 buc-”

“I'm not looking for money. I want you to get on your knees and give me a blowjob.”

He looks at you in shock. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. Make your choice, Sherlock.”

There is no choice. He needs this information in order to save the town. He has to do it. “Fine…Just don't make me swallow.”

You stub out your cigarette. “You're not in a position to make demands, sweetheart. You're gonna swallow it if you want me to talk.”

Chills run down his spine. You're so assertive, it's…..sexy. He almost slaps himself. He lets out a big sigh. “Okay.”

You smile. “Hold on.” You enter the bar and come out a few minutes later with a bottle of beer. It's already been opened. That makes Sam suspicious but in your defense, he doesn't have a bottle opener on him. Against his better judgment, he chugs the bottle.

He notices the chilling grin on your face but hopes it's not because you drugged him. You lead him to a secluded alleyway. “Kneel.” You unbuckle your belt.

“Here? Are you serious?”

“Didn't you hear me, pretty boy? Kneel.”

Sam frowns and gets down on his knees. He gulps upon seeing your hard cock. He’s never seen one in real life before, after all, he's never gone far enough for that.

“Open wide.” You tug on his hair. He looks at you with contempt but opens his mouth anyways. The feeling of your cock entering his mouth is completely foreign. It's way different than sucking on a popsicle or some other iced treat. It’s warm and pulsing. And it's thick, so thick his jaw hurts. “As I thought, you look much better with my cock stuffed in your mouth.”

Sam shivers. He can't believe that turned him on. His body suddenly begins to rise in temperature, as if he's come down with a fever. You don't seem to care about his reddening face as you slowly drag him back and forth on your cock. He stops worrying about it, even as he starts to feel more aroused than he should. He just closes his eyes and discreetly ruts against his hand as you do all the work for him. He feels so wet that his slick is probably bleeding through his underwear. He desperately needs to touch himself but he's sober enough to feel embarrassed about doing so. It's so hard for him to feel pleasure through his pants that he's started whimpering. You don't know why he's doing that but you're not complaining about the new sensation you're feeling.

“Shit- I’m already gonna come-” You moan. “Your mouth is amazing, sweetheart, you're better off selling it than being a detective.”

Sam moans as you come in his mouth. His mind is so hazy and high on whatever you drugged him with that he actually feels happy to swallow your seed. He’s completely out of his mind.

You pull him away from your cock and pry open his mouth with your thumb to make sure he's swallowed everything. “Good boy.”

He looks at you almost demurely.

“It’d be a shame to stop here, don't you think?” You run your fingers through his hair. The drug seems to have kicked in completely so you know he’ll agree.

“Mhm..”

“It’d be nice if I could fuck that sweet ass of yours...”

“Not there...” He shakes his head.

“Why not? I’d make you feel real good.”

“Isn't my pussy better?” Sam smiles, unbuckling his belt.

“It definitely is.” You smirk.

Sam shakily gets up on his feet and drops his pants and boxers to his ankles. He walks over to the wall and bends over, giving you a drunken smile. You look at his pussy and feel your cock immediately come back to life. He's so wet that his slick is on the inner corner of his thighs. You can't wait to dive into that.

You stick two of your fingers inside him, not caring for how that makes him feel, and explore his insides. He's soft, warm, and oh so fucking wet. Sam moans, too drugged to consider the fact that he's in public.

“Th- there!” His voice and legs are shaking. “Yes-yes-yes–”

“Already gonna come, darling?” You find his g-spot and immediately cause him to squirt. You watch in awe, painfully hard thanks to this mesmerizing display. You pull your fingers out and slowly inch your cock inside him. “Sorry, I just couldn't wait any longer. You don't mind, right, baby?”

Sam moans, eyes half lidded. “Mm- deeper~”

“The drug’s really changed you…or maybe it's just allowed your real personality to show?” You smirk, going deeper as he requested. “I might have to keep drugging you if it means I can fuck this sweet pussy of yours.”

He shivers, leaning further against the wall as you make him experience his pussy stretching to accommodate your girth for the first time. “Bi- big~” He bites his lip, absolutely blissed out.

“You like how big I am? Or how good your cunt feels stretching to fit me?”

“Ye- yes~ so good~” He answers both of your questions. “My pussy feels so good, [Name]~”

“Yeah? I’ll make it feel even better.” Once you bottom out you start fucking him at a rough pace. The warm and slippery feeling of his cunt is making you too aroused to control yourself. You cover Sam’s mouth with your hand, knowing he won't even try to keep quiet. Your hand quickly becomes drenched with his saliva, a constant vibration thanks to Sam moaning. You can still hear his moans, albeit muffled, but at a much better level that suits your location. “You're such a good boy, you know? Taking my cock so fucking well. If we were at my place, I’d be happy to hear you moan.”

Sam’s body reacts to being called a good boy, his cunt clenching around you once again.

“I wish I could have you, a cute puppy like you should have an owner. Although, I don't know if I have the strength to actually let you go.” You pull down the collar from the back of his shirt and bite him, making a mark that’s sure to last a while. You can tell just by hearing him and feeling the way his cunt reacts that he liked that. “How about you touch yourself for me, pup? I want you to feel extra good.”

Sam brings his hand down to his t-dick, gently stroking himself and accelerating the amount of time it’ll take him to have an orgasm.

“Look at you, following orders so well.”

He whimpers in response.

“You’d be better off belonging to me than some agency, don't you think?” You move your hand away from his mouth.

“Ye- yes- wanna be yours!” He moans, squirting again on your cock. In his current state of mind, he feels overjoyed at the idea of abandoning his dangerous “career” for a life full of pleasure and submission. He won't have to think or put his life on the line anymore. Right now, he doesn't have the ability to think rationally and being your dog is all he wants. “Tak- take me! I wanna be your puppy~!”

You bury your head in his shoulder, slowing down. “I’ll hold you to that. Gonna make sure you can't change your mind and leave me.” You come inside of him despite knowing he wouldn't want this if he was sober. At this point you don't care what he thinks, you just want him. Maybe the whiskey you had earlier is finally getting to you...

Sam wakes up on his motel bed, feeling something inside his underwear, a painful feeling in his neck, and a sharp headache. He closes his eyes and tries to recall what happened last night. He soon starts to remember everything, even after the drug kicked in. He should be angry but he isn't. He's horny. He sits up on the bed and looks around.

“Dean?” He calls out. No response. He leans back and brings his hand into his pants, sliding his index and middle finger down his slick cunt. He feels your cum and pushes it back inside him, fingering himself with your cum. He doesn't want to get pregnant but he can't help himself. Just doing this makes him so horny…He feels like a perv.

Sam leans back and moans, feeling extra sensitive. He remembers how you made him squirt for the first time and how it’d probably feel even more amazing if he could do it sober. He starts to think about all the compliments you gave him and how you wanted to make him yours. He knows he should be focusing on hunting, especially because of his powers, but he can't help but yearn for a safe life with you. He doesn't even really know you. He did a background check on you but he didn't look at anything that would’ve given him any information about your personality. He can't believe that a one night with you is making him feel like this. Making him want to relinquish his autonomy to a stranger.

He murmurs your name, absolutely enamored with you. Are you even human? You have to have some special power to make him so infatuated with you. Right?

Before he can reach his climax, the sound of the doorknob twisting stops him. Sam quickly takes out his hand and rubs it on his clothes. Dean opens up the door and immediately looks at Sam.

“Where the hell were you last night? And why are you in the same clothes?”

“I- I uh…got drunk.” He looks at him sheepishly.

“Why?!”

“[Name] didn't want to talk unless I won a drinking game…I won.”

Dean looks surprised. “That guy must be even more of a lightweight than you are.”

Sam laughs awkwardly.

“So what's the story?”

“I don't know–” Sam stops thanks to Dean’s expression. “Yet! I’ll call him today.”

“You got his number?”

Sam vaguely remembers you putting something in his pocket. He digs into his right pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He opens it up. I’ll talk. I left you hangover medicine, the morning after pill, and a pregnancy test. Let me know the results when the time comes. [Your Number]. “Yeah. I got it.” He turns to the bedside table and sees a bag with the logo from the local pharmacy. His heart flutters from your consideration. Which is ironic, considering what you did to him.

“Good. Take a shower and eat something, then call him.” Dean grabs the remote, gets onto his bed, and turns on the tv.

At around 11, Sam called you and now you're sitting outside a café with “Joseph” and his partner, “Francis”.

“There's two of you.” You raise your eyebrow. “Looks like you're not Sherlock, but one of the hardy boys.” You chuckle.

Sam laughs awkwardly. “This is my partner–”

“Wait, let me guess, Frank?”

“Francis. My friends call me Frank.” He smiles, impressed that you got the reference.

“Joseph and Franics. Interesting coincidence.” You’re tempted to inquire further but you decide not to. You're not too excited to recount the story but you’d rather just get it over with.

“And that was it.” You lean back into the chair. You noticed Sam was staring at you the entire time but you ignored it, you don't want to bring anything up with Dean around.

“Thanks for telling us. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” Dean stands up and shakes your hand. “Alright, let's go.” He turns to Sam.

“I- I actually have something to do, go without me.”

“What? What the hell could be so important?”

Sam looks away and doesn't answer.

Dean sighs heavily. “Fine. But don't let me find out you're trying to meet some girl or something.” He shakes his head and walks over to his car.

“So, what’s more important than your investigation?” You tilt your head in interest.

“I remember what happened last night.”

“I sure hope so, that's the whole reason I’m here.”

“No, I remember that you drugged me.”

You’re a little surprised, that wasn't supposed to happen. You know he won't turn you in though. You’re sure of it. “Are ya gonna turn me in, Mr. Hardy?” You smile teasingly.

“Not if you do something for me in return. It's only fair, right?”

You give him an amused look. “Of course, puppy, it's only fair.”

Sam blushes at the name.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Drive me to your place and you'll find out.”

“Alright, we'll have to make a quick stop though.” You grin and lead him to your car.

Sam enters your home, anxious for two reasons. One, because you went to a sex shop and told him what you bought is a secret. And two, because he's about to request something that nobody in their right mind would do after being taken advantage of in such a way.

He sits on your bed and watches you as you place the bag on your desk and reveal what you bought. A collar that closely resembles one for a dog, but clearly made to be worn by a human. Sam’s entire body heats up.

“Just a little something to remember me by.” You hand him the collar

He frowns slightly, he doesn't want to leave you. He doesn't know why he's so obsessed with you but he brushes away the thought and puts the collar on. He looks adorable. “Now you have to do my request.” He unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants. “I want you to eat me out.” He's been fantasizing about this in the shower. He can't leave this town without experiencing this at least once.

You lick your lips. “That's it? If that's what you want, I’ll be glad to do it.” You pull his pants and underwear off for him and kneel in between his legs. You slowly drag your tongue up his pussy, tasting him for the first time. You let out a soft noise of pleasure before wrapping your lips around his t-dick and slowly easing two your fingers into his cunt. Sam throws his head back and moans unabashedly as you suck him off, his body heating up. This is so much better than just fingering himself. Your mouth feels so good.

“Like that- yes~” Sam rolls his eyes back. It won't take long for him to come. “[Name]~!” He gasps when your fingers reach his g-spot. “Oh my God–” He falls back onto the bed, quickly climbing towards his orgasm. You add a third finger and continue to finger his wetness while sucking his cock more passionately. Sam can't even manage to get any words out, he feels too fucking good to even think about anything. He instinctively wraps his legs around your head and squirts, drenching you. He takes a few moments before letting go of you.

You pull away and lick your lips. “Now, how about a round two?”

Sam nods, removing his clothes. “I wanna ride you.”

“I’d love that.”

Sam hovers above your hard length, his left hand holding it in his place and his right on your shoulder. He lowers himself onto your cock, gasping when he feels you stretching him open. Despite his memory being mostly clear from that night, the pleasure he remembered wasn't enough to prepare him for this. “Fuck–!” He moans, continuing to lower himself down. Tears run down his cheeks thanks to the painful pleasure he's experiencing. “You're- so, so big-” He's breathless.

“You're adorable, puppy.” You hold his cheek in your hand. “I know you can handle it though, keep going.”

Sam moves further down until you're completely inside him. He looks at you, tears still streaming down.

“Good boy.” You kiss him. His eyes widen for a moment before closing his eyes and reciprocating the kiss. You briefly pull away to open your mouth and Sam is quick to catch on. You return to kissing him but now with your tongue. Sam considers himself a master at kissing, since it's the most he’s ever done. At least when it comes to receiving.

Sam finds himself grinding down on your cock, finding pleasure in the way you feel inside him.

You pull away from him and move down to his neck to bite and kiss it. You now move even further and wrap your lips around his nipple, happily sucking on it while your hand goes to massage his other breast. Sam whimpers and squeezes your cock happily. He could get used to this. Just being a dumb, slutty puppy for you to use sounds great to him. Sorry Dean and the greater good, Sam is giving up on being a hunter and choosing to become a simple toy.

You reluctantly leave his breasts and look at Sam with a smile. “Why don't you try riding me now?”

“Okay..” Sam places both his hands on your shoulders and slowly rises. He whimpers at the feeling. He never had the confidence to try using a dildo so he had no idea how intense this would feel. He quickly lowers himself, missing the feeling of your entire cock inside him. Even losing a few inches is upsetting for him.

“You don't want to do it anymore? Is it too hard for you, puppy?”

He looks away from you. “I want all of you inside me…”

“Aw, you can't even stand a few seconds? I promise you won't even feel it as long as you keep up a fast pace. It’ll feel much better than just having me inside you…although I do enjoy having you keep my cock warm.”

Sam tries riding you properly but he's still feeling weak and can't do it fast enough. He stops and looks at you.

“Let me help you.” You grab his waist and lift him up and down at a fast pace. Sam rolls his head back and moans in pleasure. “See? It feels good.”

“So- so good!” He cries. He feels so good that he barely even feels the painful slapping of his breasts against his chest. He can't even focus his sight, pain is nearly obsolete to him. He brings his hand down to his dick, stroking it as best he can. You can tell he's about to come.

“Come on, puppy, come for me.” You smirk. It doesn't take much longer after that for Sam to come. He squirts, making a mess on your body. “Good boy. Now it's my turn.”

Sam gasps as his body is suddenly pushed onto the bed, your hands squeezing his wrists tightly. “Just a little more, I know you can take it.” You roughly thrust into his cunt, indulging in the lovely wet warmth of his pussy. Sam doesn't mind, on the contrary, he’s happy to be used just to get you off. “You're so obedient, sweetheart, so perfect.” You start to act more like a dog than Sam, your horniness compelling you to rut into him like a wild beast. He can barely handle it thanks to the previous activities but he's fighting to stay awake. Seeing you in this state is much too arousing to miss.

“Tha- thank you~” He smiles stupidly.

Just hearing him say that with an expression like that makes you come. You briefly grip his wrists harder then loosen it as you come down from your high. “I don't want to let you go..”

“Me neither…I like being your puppy.” His eyelids start to feel heavy. “Wanna keep getting used…” He falls asleep. You kiss his forehead and pull out. You've never given an unconscious person a bath but it shouldn't be too hard.

Dean pounds angrily on your front door, a gun in his pocket ready to shoot you if necessary. Thanks to an eyewitness report from the café employee, he found out where Sam went. He doesn't know what's going on but he's furious. He hasn't answered his calls and he hasn't seen him since yesterday.

You open the door. “Ah! Francis. Here to pick up your partner?” You pause.

“What the fuck did you do to my brother?”

“Nothing he didn't like.” You reply plainly. “He's perfectly fine and drinking some tea. I’ll show you.”

Dean looks at Sam in shock. He's just wearing a big shirt and probably underwear. “Sam! What's going on?”

“I’m sorry, but I want to stay here. I love [Name] and I don't want to leave him.”

“WHAT?!” He's completely taken aback.

“You heard him. You’ll have to head back on your own. I’ll get his stuff for him.”

Dean doesn't trust you at all. He's going to be doing a lot of research on whatever monster you might be. He's convinced you're not human. “I’m staying longer. You probably did something to him…I don't trust you.”

“That's fine.” You smile. You have something else to worry about. “So…who's Sam?”

Sam and Dean both look at each other. Looks like they're going to have to reveal the truth, at least partially...

[bigfatbimbo]

holyyyy shitttt I’ve never run into a writing blog I agree with so much! refusal to write dom!male characters? you’re speaking my language here, seriously! the sub bill fic/concept was so godly too actually what the fuck?????

despite that — I actually came here to speak about Stanford lol. I’d just be so curious to hear any thoughts you have on sub! ford really, whether hcs, a drabble, or just you going on a general little rant over how you think he’d be like. sorry if this is too vague!!!

a/n — anon, your so real!! I literally cannot write dom!male characters without getting icked out — also i’m glad you liked the bill fic!

warnings — dom!reader, sub!ford, gender-neutral reader, mentions of various kinks

summary — [SMUT] headcanons of reader and sub!Ford

ᯓ★ I genuinely do not know why people would be think this man doms, he is such a bottom.

ᯓ★ He has very little experience, maybe he got lucky at a party in college or met a hot alien during his time in the portal, but he might as well be a virgin.

ᯓ★ He’d probably be very nervous your first time together, fumbling taking his clothes off, not knowing where to start.

ᯓ★ His confidence has come along way but he’s still a nerd at heart, and he’d get flustered so easily.

ᯓ★ His praise kink would be so unmatched.

ᯓ★ Call him good and smart while talking him through it, he deals with so many high tension situations, he’d love you to be soft with him.

ᯓ★ “Pretty boy” would ruin him. After being bullied for being a freak all his life, even if he is genuinely over it now, it’s still be jarring to be praised for his looks.

ᯓ★ He would literally feel such a relief when you tell him you’d be leading, like “ah, yes. perhaps that’s.. a good idea.”

ᯓ★ Ford is probably immensely touch-starved after everything he’s been through. He’d want you to touch him literally everywhere.

ᯓ★ He would probably be pretty vanilla, anything to crazy would freak him out.

ᯓ★ Not a fan of degradation, where is the pleasure in being openly mocked by a loved one?

ᯓ★ After a little bit, he would probably feel bad for making you do all the work, so he’d try to do things for you to make it up to you.

ᯓ★ However, only to realize he wants constant reassurance while doing that too. Even when he’s fingering you and treating you nice, a ‘good boy’ every now and then would make him fold.

ᯓ★ And it’s probably always deserved too.. He’s a genius and a scientist, it’s not crazy to say he knows a thing or two about anatomy. Things to enhance your pleasure.

ᯓ★ Would love pegging, probably already knows about it, but you’d still have to ask first. And even then he’d be incredibly nervous and not masking it well.

ᯓ★ Probably cannot go for a long time or do that many rounds. Look, he’s old… I don’t know what you people expect when you’re into a 60+ year old man.

ᯓ★ Will always help out during aftercare no matter how tired out he is. Even if you insist he rest, he’ll still get you glass of water at the very least.

[ateliersss]

Bandaids and Kisses

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: One part of motherhood seemed to be patching up your reckless pup after another adventure in the wild against his parents’ wishes. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: English isn't my first language Word Count: 2.885 Before the Blooming Family series

⇨ Hello, you Yautja lovers. With this, we are going back in time, before the happenings of the "Blooming Family" series. I hope you enjoy it! Comments are always appreciated!

⇨ You want to know something hilarious? A Yautja in their early twenties is the equivalent of a human in its 50's/60's, so Akail as a ten-year-old Yautja would be a minus something human baby.

“Oh my God, Akail! Again?”

You were taken to Yautja Prime about fifty years ago, Life-mated to Mi’ytiar for forty years, and an accepted and established member of his clan for ten years now. Ten years, the same amount of time your son had walked, talked, and breathed. Ruling alongside your mate and hunting for food weren’t enough to make your contribution. Giving Mi’ytiar a pup had apparently been the only thing that changed your role among them; from an outsider (and even a simple plaything for their leader to some) to what you were now — the female counterpart of a clan leader, the Matriarch.

You had heard of several Matriarchs on Yautja Prime. Like you, they were mated to the clan leader, but unlike you, they were the superior one in their dynamic, and even above an Elder or Ancient. You wouldn’t dare to assume the same form of authority for yourself and kept to the secondary leading role just as a queen consort on Earth would. You had much more freedom and control than you could ask for, completely content in the position you were holding right now, and you never felt the need to claim the power of a true Matriarch. The fact that the Females of the Yautja race were viewed much higher in leading roles than the Males was satisfying enough.

Nonetheless, you still had particular obligations and a certain appearance to maintain. You would take part in organizing the journey of the Un-Blooded to become Blooded, ensured the civilized coexistence within the clan by taking on the role of a judge in court on Earth, approved of every newborn pup that is presented to you and deem them worthy, listened to their requests and suggestions and tried to contribute as best as you could, and even had become a beacon of generosity and kindness to the clan for advice and consolation. The list went on and on, but instead of feeling crushed by the huge amount of responsibility, you relished in it. It was an honor, truly.

Another thing that was expected of you was joining the elder Females in their den and listening to their wisdom with other younger Females. Rather than a bothersome duty you had to force yourself to attend, you absolutely loved their company.

And the den was a beautiful place you loved to spend your time in, a flawless merge between ancient architecture and the futuristic Yautja influence, round in shape and with a high dome-ish roof that was held together by a construct of pillars and beams into which hieroglyphs were carved. Fire was burning in the hollow beams and illuminated the room above the heads of everyone present.

A week of adjusting to your new life had gone by without leaving Mi’ytiar’s home — your home the second you had crossed the threshold — before he decided it was time to introduce you to his people. And the place he had brought you to first was the den of the Elders. It had been a tough start, but they were surprisingly objective. Instead of seeing you for what you were, they saw you for who you were. Even if you were among giants, you had felt welcomed.

On this day and decades later, you had joined them as well, taking your place at the fire pit and opposite the entrance on the only chair in the round room. The Matriarch had her very own seat in the den, a throne-like construction made of something that felt like a mix of stone and metal. Meanwhile, the other Females sat on white stepstones on the mossy ground around the pit.

Matheih, the Female that held the unofficially highest rank among the Elders and had been the first you felt comfortable with, was just about to discuss the matter of a Bad Blood who had come too close to the clan's borders when you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head to the entrance and gasped.

Your shocked exclamation had cut Matheih off, causing her to startle. The rest of the Elders either looked at you, or your son who seemed to shrink under the intense eyes of the Females.

You immediately rose from your seat, the others following you swiftly, and you raced around them to Akail who anxiously fiddled with the charm attached to his loin cloth.

One day, you had noticed the longing gaze of your pup fixed to his father’s loin cloth and the trinkets and trophies swinging on his hips. Without further ado, you tailored him something new and decorated it with a thread on which various square stones and animal teeth were strung, the thread sewn into the front of the self-made cloth to the right hip. His eyes had been so bright when you presented it to him.

“Akail, my little warrior.” You sighed when you reached your son, kneeling in front of him to be on the same level as him.

You cupped his cheeks and examined his face. There were several cuts across his face — two on his forehead, one under his right eye, and one above his left eye — and fluorescent green blood was smeared around his wounds and coated his mandibles. When you checked his dreads, running your fingers through the short tendrils, he winced.

“My sweetling, what happened?” You asked when you grabbed his hands and scanned his arms up and down.

“I follow a tochi.” He mumbled and instantly avoided your stern glare.

A lie.

Placing your pointer and middle finger under his chin, you tilted his head up so he was looking into your eyes again.

“Were you near the borders again?” You pressed on and raised an eyebrow.

Akail pulled a grimace. “Yeah.”

Another lie.

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s dangerous?”

Akail looked down like a kicked puppy. “Sorry, Mama.”

No. No, you were not allowed to melt right now. You needed to be strong and determined to be angry at him for disobeying one of your and his father’s rules. You needed him to understand that running after an animal for the nth time and moving too far away from the clan’s land was risky without someone by his side.

But those damn puppy eyes of his, the same look his father sometimes used on you, they made you weak and yielding.

“Come on.” You softly smiled at him and stretched out a hand to him.

When you stood upright again, Akail wasted no time to grab your hand while his other arm wrapped around your leg, clinging to you. You turned to the Females, excused yourself, and apologized to Matheih for interrupting her before you and Akail left the den.

Hand in hand, you walked the short route to your home.

“Does it hurt, my sweetling?” You asked him when you entered the grounds of your home.

You whistled at Be'jaa who had started barking at the intruders, as well as the two other Hell Hounds Mi’ytiar owned, Vohtu and Gihn’tha, and signaled them that it was just you and to stand down.

“Not anymore, Mama.” Akail vehemently shook his head, putting on a brave face.

You smiled down at him and led him inside, lifted him into your arms, and carried him to the long table that stood in the center of the main room of your home. Behind it and opposite the entrance door, three other doors lead deeper into your home to adjoining rooms like your bedroom. Just like the den of the elders, this room was round with a dome roof made out of orange and light grey glass, but there was at least a meter of additional ceiling going sideways from where the dome ended and from which a ring of rock was hanging down, like a huge ring-shaped lamp circling the whole room.

Just like a routine, you placed him down on the surface, kissed the little space between his nonexistent eyebrows, immediately eliciting a merry purr from him, and got the Medicomp that was stored in one of the box-drawers under the long shelves where your mate displayed his trophies.

You placed the Medicomp next to Akail on the table, sat down, and quickly got to work crushing the plaster and melting it with the burner, adding the blue solvent and mixing it until you got a gel.

“You know the drill, baby. It’s going to hurt.” You warned him, taking one of his hands into your free one before you started applying the gel to the thin cuts on his face.

Immediately, Akail let out a sharp hiss and squeezed your hand as hard as he could. But he remained still, not wanting to ruin your already careful treatment. His eyes danced across your face, admired the color of your eyes that was so different from his, studied your smooth skin that wasn’t as rough or beige and green as his, scanned your mouth that wasn’t hidden behind tusks.

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could even utter the first syllable of his question.

“Be honest with me, Akail. What happened? You don’t just get wounds like that because you followed a tochi.” You questioned him and placed the spatula to the side before you grabbed the cloth that you had added to the Medicomp and dabbed the blood away from his already healing cuts and his mandibles.

“Stumbled over a stone.” He answered in a huff.

Another lie.

“I roll down a slope in a bush.”

Lie, lie, lie.

You hummed. “The bad ones near the stonehenge? I told you to stay away from there. Those statues are unstable and you aren’t yet strong enough to withstand their weight should one fall down on you.”

“Sorry, Mama.” Akail muttered and pulled his head in as if it would help him to escape the shame your words caused him.

You were melting once again at the sincerity in his words and reassurance washed over you. You may have had no idea how to raise a child as you never had the opportunity of doing it before, but you must be doing something right when he was capable of realizing his mistakes and showing remorse. But it wasn’t the kind of remorse you were thinking of.

“It’s alright, my sweetling. And you did so well in keeping still for me. You were very brave.” You cooed and kissed first the healing cuts on his forehead before you turned to the ones at his eyes.

But he wasn’t. If he was as brave as you claimed, he would tell you that it wasn’t the thorns of the bushes overgrowing the stonehenge but the still-developing claws of the older Younglings making fun of you that had caused the wounds. Akail had tried very, very hard to ignore their teasing and provoking snides, but when one of them — the tallest of all people — started talking about how glad he was that his mother was a respectable Female of the tribe and not some foreign, lowly pet that warmed the nest of the clan leader and probably pleased any other Male on the side, little Akail saw only red.

He had jumped the older Youngling and bit down on his neck while his claws inflicted as much damage as they were capable of. But due to his smaller size and frail strength, this advantage was turned against him in the next second when he felt his face being scratched open and his back colliding with the ground when he was pushed off by the older boy.

Luckily, before the situation could escalate even more, two Blooded Yautja neared the small group and Akail used the opportunity to quickly stand up and hurry to the den of the Elders where he knew his mother was.

It hadn’t been the first time and it will probably not be the last time, but he had promised himself to always protect you from anything that could crush your beautiful heart and kind soul that had showed him unconditional love from the moment he had opened his eyes to take his first ever look at his mother. It had been blurry and unfocused, but he remembered your smile. That smile.

“Mama?” Akail asked as he watched you packing up the Medicomp.

“Mhm?” You hummed and lowered yourself on one of the chairs around the table, right in front of him.

Instantly, Akail reached for your shiny hair and started fiddling with it, feeling how soft and silky it was. When he was a toddler, he would often play with it while purring, not being able to speak yet but his sweet chatter combined with his wide eyes was enough for you to be reminded how much he was his father’s son. Both were enamored, maybe even slightly obsessed with your human features.

Akail huffed. “Why you not look like me?”

“Hm?” You raised your eyebrows in surprise at the topic of his sudden question.

“Why you look like this? Why not like me or Papa?” He pushed further and curled a lock of your hair around his pointer finger.

“My sweetling.” You cooed, lifted him up by his waist, and settled him down on your lap, his legs dangling from each side of your thighs. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your chest close to your throat. “Do you remember the bedtime stories I sometimes tell you?”

You only felt vibrations against your skin and you took that as an answer, a cue to continue, “When I was little like you, your grandmama sat next to my bed and told me the same ones.”

Akail pulled his face from your chest and lifted his head to look up at you. “Grandmama?”

I nod. “Yeah. Mama’s mama.” You cupped his little face and peppered it with kisses. “Those stories are from the place I was born. Earth.”

“Are there more looking like you?”

“Yes. Many like me. Earth is similar to home. There are villages all over the planet and they speak different tongues, too. They have a clan leader called a major or a president and they have warriors, but also normal people who work jobs or go to school.”

“What is job?” Akail asked curiously and cocked his head to the side.

“A job is something oomans do to earn a living, to build a life. It is a little different here. For example, with a job you can earn money and buy food, but here, you just go into the forest and hunt. With a job, you can also build a house, but here, you just do it yourself with resources this planet has to offer.” You explained with a soft smile.

“What a ooman?”

“It’s what I am, my little warrior. Mama is ooman, a human. That’s why I look so different than you or your Papa.”

“But why I don’t look more like you?” Akail asked and his adorable face got even more precious when he pulled it into a frown.

You hummed as if you were in thought before you put on a bright grin and started to tickle his sides. “Because I wanted someone unique and extraordinary, and I hoped for someone who is as handsome and strong and chivalrous as your Papa. And speaking of your Papa, he was determined to have a pup like you, my sweetling.”

Mi’ytiar had been very determined indeed that his DNA took root inside you. It also hadn’t been the only thing that had completely dominated you.

“I know I’m not as big and strong and pretty as the other mothers-“

“You more pretty!”

“What?” You asked with raised eyebrows at his offended tone.

“You more pretty! More pretty than other mothers, more pretty than other Females! Say you more pretty!” Akail protested, immediately standing up for you even against your own words.

You had to swallow your emotions during his short rant. This boy had your heart, so precious and pure, and your emotional intelligence, already developed so far for his young age. You had no idea you were able to create something so beautiful and special.

“I’m more pretty.” You repeated his words with a smile, petting the top of his head, and kissed his forehead one, two, three times. “Why don’t you go and look for Papa, hm? I bet he loves to teach you a little something about leadership.”

Akail climbed down from your lap with a click of his mandibles and was already running out of your home. You had followed him, a little slower than the hazardous speed of his, and leaned with your shoulder against the entrance as you watched him in amusement.

You had hated the thought of becoming a mother. You had hated the thought of how children would affect your health and body. You had hated the thought of giving up your freedom for them. You had hated the thought of limiting your own life to adapt to theirs. You had hated the thought of abandoning every hope you had felt, every plan you had made, and every dream you had envisioned to tend to each of their needs.

God, never had you been happier to be wrong.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

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[srbachchan]

DAY 6005

Jalsa, Mumbai July 27, 2024/July 28 Sat/Sun 2:37 am

.. the body moves .. not quite as before .. but moves .. movements are an integral part of our living .. we are brought here in this Universe to move .. move out move above move about and around , but move ..

I sought the pt's of movement for us likes and are given the directions that pertain to the fact of how movement is the crucible of necessity ..

"For an 82-year-old male, maintaining movement is crucial for overall health and well-being. Gentle activities like walking, swimming, or tai chi can help enhance mobility, strength, and balance. Stretching exercises improve flexibility, reducing the risk of injury. Light resistance training can preserve muscle mass and bone density. It's essential to include regular breaks and avoid overexertion. Social activities like dancing or group exercises provide both physical and mental benefits. Consulting with a healthcare professional before starting any new exercise regimen is important to ensure safety and to tailor the activities to the individual's health status and physical capabilities."

.. and so I move ..

but enough of the 'i' .. it's time to bring in the 'they' .. 'they' are the necessity of the movement living .. for the simple reason that what 'they' induce you with , becomes the movement legacy .. 'they' may never feel so , but the fact is just that .. MOVE ..

blessed are we that are the face of public appearance .. and the 'they' comes in with immense intensity to justify our beliefs and aforementioned detail ..

when 'they' burst we explode .. when 'they' explode we hold on to their tails and travel where 'they' do or go .. 'they' go to destinations known to them but 'they' carry our destinations as well .. without them we have no destination .. our final peak is theirs .. and that is how we be ..

In a few hours from now .. well .. quite a few hours from now at the GOJ .. there shall be meets and greets and shares and givings and reciprocation .. that is life , reciprocation .. get one give two ..

and the interpretation be theirs as well .. we learn from them .. 'they' are the spirit that educates .. 'they' teach professionally .. we follow in the lead given ..

the mention of the 95% and 98% is ever adorned with great appreciation .. but 'they' teach us that there are those that achieve from the 50% to the 60% also..

are their achievements any less ..

they deserve the lead as well , to swell the encouragement to keep the growth ..

and growth is movement ..

SO ..

MOVE ..

MY LOVE CARE and my affection for them that strain .. strain to move forward .. a step or two may be and NOT a gallop .. but a step all the same ..

'take the strain .... HEAVE ' !!!!

Amitabh Bachchan

[deathbysnakes]

Don't you think it would be adorable that pierro plays hide and seek with an adopted child (y/n) while the other harbingers are in shock watching this scene??

The last part should be hilarious hahhahaha

Hide & Seek Catastrophe

Pierro & child reader (Platonic)

Side note:Sorry this took so long, I've been kinda stressed lately.

Warnings:You almost get experimented on

Pronouns:He/Him (All male harbingers + Dottore's clones) She/Her (All female harbingers) You/Your (Reader)

Fluff/Crack

Explanation:You have recently been adopted by the leader of the fatui harbingers, Pierro, and you've convinced him to play hide and seek with you, but you made the not so smart decision to go to the fatui headquarters to hide (I like to imagine that the harbingers houses are connected to the fatui headquarters)

!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!¡!

"Close your eyes, and count to 60, no peaking!" You chirped happily, as you watched Pierro follow your instructions. "60? Why not 30?" Pierro mumbled to himself nervously, something about having you out of his sight in such a dangerous place made him anxious, but he ignored his feelings, he wanted you to be happy after all, you've been cooped up in Pierro's mansion ever sense you've been adopted, it feels wrong to deny your request when you've been wanting to stretch your legs and have some fun for the past few days.

You immediately dashed off as soon as Pierro started to count, not only was this your chance to play, it was your chance to explore. You opened the mansions door and it lead out into a huge palace. You couldn't help but stare in awe for a few seconds before dashing off into the palace.

You squealed in surprise as you saw a intimidating figure as soon as soon as you turned a corner, the figure was tall, muscular, and had long black hair, but perhaps the most intimidating thing about him was his helmet, you couldn't see his face because of it, and it rightfully disturbed you. The man turned and looked at you, nothing more, just stared. "What is a child doing in a place like this?" You tensed up, the feminine voice was like a soothing melody, but there was something off about it. You slowly turned around and came face to face with a angelic woman with black and pink hair, and a strange cross-shaped white cloth that was kinda covering her eyes. "Let's get you back to the house of hearth~" She sang, reaching out for you, you squealed in fear and made a run for it. The woman watched you run with a amused face, not attempting to make chase, she'd just tell Arlecchino.

You eventually slowed down and attempted to catch your breath with tears in your eyes, who knew this place could be so terrifying? Clearly not you. "Whoa, you okay there kid? You look like you've just seen a ghost." You quickly whip around and before you is standing a ginger haired man with a kind but worried smile on his face. "Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you." The man crouch's down to your leavel. "My names Tartaglia, yours is?" Tartaglia says, his head tilting to the side to try and seem less threatening. "[Name]..." You answer, tears still clouding your vision. "That's a nice name!" Just as you start to feel relaxed, you hear footsteps behind you. "Tartaglia, about how much money you spent when you were in Liyue..." The man with glasses stopped when he saw your small figure staring up at him with scared eyes. "What is this child doing here?" He asked in a stern tone, crossing his arms. "Uh...I'm not sure, I kinda just saw it." Tartaglia responded, putting a hand on the back of his head. "No matter, Tartaglia you spent 7 million mora when you went to Liyue, what is the meaning of this?!"

As the two argue you heard a voice "Psst! Hay! Over here!" You turned to see a red eyed and blue haired child that looked about 10 motioning to you to come over, you walk towards him hesitantly, being cautious not to catch the attention of the two arguing men. "Do you want to see something cool?" He asked, there was a curtain cunning look in his eyes that made you uneasy but you nodded hesitantly. "Then follow me!" The boy took off into a sprint, and you followed behind, he was surprisingly fast for a child his age. You froze as you arrived at a scary looking lab. "What's this, Alpha?" You gasp in surprise when you hear someone's voice behind you, you turn around and see a tall red eyed and blue haired man, the boy, that's apparently called Alpha, and the man looked related. "A new test subject!" You're eyes widened in terror as you heard those words. "How kind of you." The man walked over to Alpha and ruffled his hair, then turned back to you. He started to reach out towards you. "Now, let's be going now-" Before he could finish his sentence you felt yourself being picked up from under your arms and being dashed away.

You felt yourself being put down on a bench, and when you looked up you saw a short purple haired man looking down at you with a angry look on his face. "What were you thinking?! Weren't you ever taught not to go with strangers?!" You started to tear up at his harsh words and he let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you ever see someone with red eyes and blue hair, don't go near them, don't engage with them, go the other way, you got it?" You nodded, and the man started to walk away.

You got up off of the bench and heard something crunch beneath you, you looked down and saw a little robot, then you heard a gasp. You turned around and saw a green haired woman looking down at the little robot you just crushed in shock, then her face quickly shifted into anger. "You little brat! Look what you've done to little Tom 5.8!" You teared up at the woman yelling, but she still didn't give up. "Do you know, how much blood and sweat I put into making him?! Of course you don't! You're a dumb little child! This is why I hate children, they ruin everything!" You broke into a full on break down, crying loudly as the woman continued shouting insults at you. "Sandrone that's enough!" Sandrone let out a "ow!" When she was hit in the shoulder with a cane. "You've done enough, leave the poor child alone! " Sandrone angerly stomps off while mumbling angerly.

You felt a gloved hand on your head as you continued crying, as you started to calm down and wipe the tears from your eyes, you see what looks like a friendly old man with an elf like appearance standing in front of you. "There, there little one, she's like this all the time, there's nothing to feel guilty about." You started to calm down at his soothing words. "Would you like a pastry?" He asked, reaching into a basket, you nodded as your tears started to stop. He pulled out a few macarons and you hesitantly took them from him. "Try to avoid Sandrone, she's always in a bad mood and takes it out on the poor soul that comes in a 10-foot radius of her." The old man said as you ate. "I'll be off now, keep yourself safe little one." The old man said as he started to walk away.

"Don't cry, it makes you look ugly." You turned around and saw a tall blond woman in a white and black dress in front of you. "Why are you staring at me like that? Fix your face." The woman said, crossing her arms. You started to tear up again and the woman's eyes widened. "What did I just tell you?" The woman leans down, takes a handkerchief out, and wipes the tears off of your face. "Don't. Cry." This strange way of trying to comfort you actually made you feel better. "You're only getting this treatment because you're cute." The woman huffed. "There you are." The both of you turn around, a woman with white and black hair is walking towards the two of you. "Come to me my child, it's time to go back to the house of hearth." The blond woman in the black and white dress gets up and steps back, letting the black and white haired woman approach you. You backed away anxiously as the woman got closer, and then another person came into your vision, a man with blue hair and a bird mask. "Hands off Arlecchino, this one wondered into my lab, there for it's my test subject now." Arlecchino gave the blue haired man a mean look. "You will not be taking one of my children." You noticed, behind her, the same black and pink haired woman was watching you, well, it looked like she was watching you, but her eyes were closed. "Both of you will not be taking my child."

You felt yourself being picked up, and when you turned around, it was Pierro. "Your child?" You turned to see the ginger guy with the same black haired guy with glasses. "You have a child?" Tartaglia asked again. You noticed familiar faces gathering around. "Sence when did you have a child?" The short purple haired man asked as he leaned against a piller. "One week ago, Scaramouche." Pierro answered and turned back to you. "And why do you have meringue on your lips?" You're eyes widened and you looked around, you've already had your daily sweet for today, you weren't supposed to have another, and you had mutable macaroons. "That would be my falt." The little old man spoke up. "I found your child crying so I gave [preferred pronouns] some of my pastries." Pierro frowned at this. "Why was my child crying?" The little old man looked over at Sandrone, and Pierro followed his gaze. "We'll have a little, chat about this later, but now, we're going back home, and let this be known, if my child has a single scratch on them, you all will be punished." Pierro started to walk away but you whined and tried to get out of his grasp. "What is it now?" Pierro asked with a sigh. "I want to play hide and seek again, but this time, I want to be the seeker!" It was silent for a moment before it was broken by a chuckle. "I don't see why not?" The little old man spoke. "I want to play hide and seek!" The little red eyed and blue haired boy called Alpha you saw earlier chimed in. Pierro sighed again. "Alright, but this time, you count for 30 seconds." Pierro said in a series tone, but there was also a hint of softness in it. "I want to play too." Everyone turned to see who was talking, it was the intimidating man with the helmet you saw earlier. "Really, you of all people?" The blue haired man with the bird mask spoke, giving the intimidating man a judgmental look. "Yes."

[aquadraco20]

Bearded dragon substrate, humidity, and diet.

Inspired by @kaijutegu's recent post, let’s talk about calcium sand.

So, calcium sand, and substrate in general, has been attributed to impaction in bearded dragons (and other reptiles, but for this post, we’re just focusing on dragons.) However, while some substrates are more natural choices than others, and as such are more digestible, substrate itself is typically not the root cause of impaction. Improper husbandry such as dehydration, improper lighting, diet and supplementation all negatively impact the digestive system as well as the body in general, and the problems only compact when these factors are stacked together.

Firstly, lets look at a bearded dragons natural habitat. This video courtesy of the veterinarian Jonathon Howard, known online as the Beardie Vet, shows the texture of the substrate that wild dragons live on. The sand is loose on top but packed underneath. The grain size is about 96% fine sand.

Next, lets look at this map.

This map courtesy of Claire Jaworski overlays wild bearded dragon sightings from iNaturalist over a soil composition map of Australia. Note how many of the sightings are found in Calsisol zones. Calsisol (also known as calcarosol) zones are characterized by containing 15% or more calcium carbonate. We know that bearded dragons engage in geophagy, or intentionally eating substrate. This is likely a natural behavior that they would perform in the wild to fulfill their biological need for calcium. We provide calcium as a supplement so that they do not perform this behavior in captivity (however this is not the only vitamin we should be providing!!!)

Next we should consider humidity, as there is not much standing water in their natural habitat, as well as diet, which they also obtain water from.

Contrary to popular belief, the natural habitat of bearded dragons has a very wide range of humidity, both throughout the day and throughout the year. When they are found basking, the humidity typically ranges between 10-30%. However, the morning after rain can be around 60%.

According to these maps, which measured the humidity of Australia over the course of 30 years, many dragons would be found in areas that range between 50-70% humidity in the morning and 20-40% at 3 in the afternoon.

It is also important to note that dragons are frequently found in burrows when not out and about. In these burrows, the humidity can be higher than the surrounding air.

As far as diet, this entire post is just a fantastic resource, again, courtesy of the Beardie Vet. In the wild, adult female dragons would be ingesting 48% plant matter in their diet, with males ingesting 68%. As far as moisture content, “Most plants/herbs are around 85% water – herbage 80% water, flowers observed eating >90% water; Insects are about 65% water – Termites 60% water, crickets 67% water.”

Bearded dragons, while they do not spend a lot of time drinking, are dependent on both the natural humidity cycle and their diet to stay hydrated. It is not natural to maintain a humidity of 30% or lower all year round, and compounded with poor diet and lack of access to water, can lead to dehydration, which in turn disrupts the digestive system’s ability to do its job.

So let's bring it back. Bearded dragons are naturally found on substrate with calcium in it. If you look at Zoomed or Fluker’s calcium supplement, for example, you will see that they are calcium carbonate. If you look at the ingredients for T-Rex, RepTerra or Komodo’s calcium sand, all are made with the exact same calcium carbonate.

So what’s the problem? The problem is, in the absence of poor husbandry, the ratio. Remember that Calsisol is 15% or more calcium carbonate. Well, most bags of calcium sand are 100% calcium carbonate. They should not be used straight, instead mixed together with other safe substrates such as children's play sand, excavator clay, and pesticide and fertilizer-free topsoil to create a natural and safe substrate mixture. The proper substrate will not only allow them to create burrows like they would in the wild, it will allow females a safe place to lay eggs (which they can do even without the presence of a male), help retain heat, and keep humidity at normal levels, as well as provide natural enrichment.

Thank you for reading.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Faye Dunaway (Bonnie and Clyde, The Thomas Crown Affair)—iconic diva, incredibly beautiful and made a name for herself immediately

Lauren Bacall (To Have and Have Not, The Big Sleep, Key Largo)—"Just put your lips together...and blow" excuse me ma'am i'm briefly going to turn into a kettle. She's the quintessential Femme Fatale who may betray me in the end but I'd let her it'd be worth it

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Faye Dunaway:

"Watch Bonnie & Clyde"

"I know she is more known for her later works, but she did a few good films in the 60's and she's VERY hot so..."

Lauren Bacall:

"She is soooo neat. And hot. And everything. That one scene in To Have and Have Not where she says "you know how to whistle don't you? You just put your lips together and blow" altered my brain chemistry during media archaeology class and here we are."

"The VOICE, the SLINK, the EYES. Woof."

"Lauren Bacall was a major lesbian awakening for me. Every picture of her makes it look like she’s about to destroy you physically and emotionally (why is that so hot, I may need help). She had incredible long running chemistry with her husband, Humphrey Bogart, but was an absolute star in her own right. I’ll never be over my crush on her."

"She's got that confident, no-nonsense air about her. She's a boss babe who knows what she wants and gets it DONE. Staunch liberal Democrat her whole life. Campaigned for RFK. From Wikipedia: "In a 2005 interview with Larry King, Bacall described herself as "anti-Republican... A liberal. The L-word". She added that "being a liberal is the best thing on Earth you can be. You are welcoming to everyone when you're a liberal. You do not have a small mind."" Beautiful hair. Beautiful eyes. Beautiful lips. She's just beauty. LISTEN TO HER VOICE. TELL ME THAT'S NOT THE STUFF THAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF."

"HER VOICE. Like yeah, she was absolutely stunning but oh my god, I'm obsessed with her voice"

"A gorgeous lady inside and out. One half of an absolute power couple with Humphrey Bogart, tended to him and other actors suffering from malaria whilst filming the African Queen, generally radiated grace and poise throughout her life. Also her last role was in Family Guy so she needs justice for that"

"She was stunning. Tall and beautiful with a distinctive voice and able to carry her own in a male dominated field. She won the heart of millions, including one of Hollywood's most iconic leading men, Humphrey Bogart. Their story was the stuff of legends, and the chemistry between them was apparent in the multiple films they started in together. She personified the film noir dame and yet she also adapted as Hollywood changed. Her career spanned decades, and she was honored multiple times."

[moosesarecute]

Part 15: The Shadows Sing

Part 14 The Shadows Comfort

As soon as Azriel landed in the training clearing not far from your cabin, he knew something was wrong.

The air felt tight and he started to feel drained, drained of his magic.

“Faebane,” he stated and Feyre nodded in agreement.

A loud shriek caught their attention and a raven flew through the sky.

“This is not good,” Azriel said, remembering what you had told him.

“Drop your weapons,” a voice said behind them.

Feyre and Azriel turned around to see a group of 15 illyrian warriors. Some of them carried siphons and others didn’t.

“Drop your weapons or I’ll have your dear son killed,” the same illyrian spoke.

Azriel and Feyre shared a nod before they let their weapons fall to the ground with a loud thud.

They stayed calm as their hands were bound on their back with faebane handcuffs.

Azriel knew they had to tread carefully. They had to cooperate so that Nyx wouldn’t get hurt, but they also had to make sure they could fight if needed.

Luckily, your shadows were there to help. They were jumping from tree to tree, shadow to shadow, so that they were hidden, but still could get every detail with them.

“Now, come with us,” the same illyrian said once more. He must be some kind of leader. The male had three siphons. “Or your son will pay the price.”

Azriel both heard and saw Feyre freeze beside him, before he noticed the fear turned into anger.

They started walking deeper into the forest. Towards the biggest clearing, Azriel realized. The one where you usually met with your group.

Azriel spent the walk trying to rememorize the way. But he soon only saw trees. They were walking in circles, to confuse them.

After a while, Azriel once more heard the shriek of The Raven. The Illyrians heard it too, and soon they were leaded in a different direction than before.

“Where are you taking us?” Feyre asked. Her voice was confident and Azriel was sure he was the only one that was the mountain as emotions she was carrying.

Fear, anger, disappointment and irritation was only a few of them.

They ignored her question, but they got their answer anyway.

Behind the enormous trees, they spotted illyrian wings, many illyrian wings. As they got closer, Azriel concluded that there probably were 100 of them plus your hunting group. It was a lot more than what they thought. They had concluded on 60 rogues.

They were leaded to the middle of the group of people and then thrown to the ground. Azriel’s knives were laid on a nearby table.

“Where’s my son?” Feyre asked with a poisonous hiss.

“He’s being taken care of.”

“What do you want from us?”

“We want justice!” A male hissed.

“Justice for all our lost soldiers!” Another one continued.

“Then I would recommend you talk to us instead of kidnapping our son,” Feyre answered calmly as death.

“Where’s the fun in that?” The leader of the Illyrians answered.

“Just give me my son back and then we can sit down together and find a solution to all these problems,” Feyre tried.

“No, that would be too easy. We would anyway like to speak with the High Lord, not his whore.”

“Careful,” Azriel hissed. Both to alarm the illyrian, but also because he in the corner of his eyes could see your shadows move closer.

The illyrian laughed at him.

“We lost many during the war,” he continued. “We helped you and we didn’t get anything back. We had to come to The Middle to find anyone that wanted to help us.”

Coming from the group of Illyrians came your leader and the rest of your hunting group. Azriel felt his blood boiling at the sight of them. He really wanted to hurt them, hurt them because they hurt you.

“We have someone that really wants to meet you,” your leader said.

He stepped to the side and one of the twins, Sole, threw you forward. You tried to step one food in front of the other, but you still hadn’t been able to fix your prosthetic. You fell to the ground and let out a small cry.

You had bruises all over your body and you had a black eye forming. Azriel could see your hands shaking, but he could see it wasn’t from fear. You were shaking from the pain.

“Get up, bastard,” the illyrian leader shouted at you.

Azriel had to hold back a snare, but his eyes never left you.

You slowly stood up, strongly leaning onto your prosthetic. You quickly let your eyes meet his before you looked away.

“I wanted you to meet the female that let us all down, not as bad as her mate of course, but she still betrayed us. The High Lady of the Night Court.”

You carefully put your gaze onto Feyre. Azriel saw that you didn’t act with fear, but with caution.

Slowly you lifted your prosthetic of the ground. You moved it a few centimeters behind you before you let it onto the ground once more. Then you leaned down into a curtsy, your head facing the ground.

Azriel has never smiled a more smug smile. He was so proud to know you.

“What the hell is she doing?” The illyrian leader asked Master Raven.

“I’m curtsying my High Lady, Adrian. She did after all save us all.” You spoke with total calmness and you straightened your back. “She never betrayed me, you did. Almost all of you.”

“Stand back, Y/N,” Master Raven spoke. Even Azriel felt the shivers that went down his spine.

You didn’t move.

“You don’t punish a child for something their parents did, especially if you haven’t even tried to explain your feelings to their parents.”

You slowly turned back to Feyre.

“They don’t have your son,” you said. “They did kidnap him, but they lost him earlier this day. I don’t know where he is, but they can’t hurt him.”

You sent a small look towards Azriel. You definitely knew where he was. The look told Azriel everything he needed to know. Nyx was safe, you protected him.

“Thank you,” Feyre told you with a small nod.

You once more gave a small curtsy.

“She’s lying,” the Illyrian, Adrian, continued to talk moving towards you. “I’m going to kill you, bastard. You’re going to get as deserved.”

He kept on coming with threats, but Azriel no longer spent attention to him. His gaze was only at your hand.

Your right hand was open, then you folded in your thumb, and then another finger, and then a third one.

You were counting down. Adrian was closer than ever.

“You’re destroying everything,” Adrian continued to speak.

You folded down your last finger and your hand was now a folded fist. Adrian lifted his arms.

You moved faster than Azriel had seen you before as you punched Adrian in the jaw and seconds later the entire forest was filled with darkness.

“Think you can do it?” You asked your shadows.

“Yes, mistress,” they replied quietly. They were quite far away.

“You spread around and I’ll count down. I can’t do it aloud, but I’ll use my fingers.”

“Five.”

“I’m going to kill you, bastard.”

“Four.”

“You’re going to get as deserved.”

“Three”

“Two.”

“You’re destroying everything,” Adrian said as he stood before you.

“One.”

You forcefully closed your hand into a fist.

Adrian lifted his own fist, but you were faster and you smashed your hand into his jaw.

“Now!”

Your surroundings were filled with darkness as you sprung into action.

You ran to your best ability towards the High Lady. With the help of the screw that was going to fix your prosthetic, you managed to open her handcuffs within seconds.

“We helped Master,” your shadows informed you.

“Disarm as many as you can, kill only if you have to,” you commanded them. “Listen to the High Lady, Azriel and I, but no one else.”

Most of your shadows left you to fight, but two stayed behind to help you.

One of them twisted themselves inside your prosthetic and you immediately felt your mobility get a little better. The other one helped stabilize you as you walked into battle.

“Take this,” Azriel’s smoothing voice told you and a knife was pushed into your hand. He was gone before you could answer.

Three illyrians. He was fighting three Illyrians at once. And he definitely had the upper hand.

Loud steps behind you drew your thoughts away from Azriel.

You turned around and faced an illyrian twice your size.

Your shadows were immediately at your side as you started to fight.

After you had disarmed six illyrians and killed two, you felt your injuries catching up to you.

The shaking in your hands made it hard for you to hold the knife properly. And your broken ribs made it painful to breathe.

You tried to look around, but caught no sign of Azriel. However, you did see the High Lady. She was fighting Adrian and he played dirty.

After Feyre got the upper hand, he backed away a little just to pull up the rest of their faebane powder and force it onto her.

Feyre fought good, but the faebane made it almost impossible to win.

“Move me directly behind him,” you told your shadows.

They did as you told them and that just in time.

As Adrian lifted his sword, you sent your shadows to hold it in place. Adrian stopped in confusion for just enough time for you to stab your knife into his back.

He fell to the ground with a grunt.

“Thank you, Azri-“ Feyre started, but her eyes turned wide as she saw you and not her friend.

You moved to fight the next illyrian.

The battle ended quickly. Most of the illyrians left as soon as the fighting began, others left after they got disarmed. About a quarter of all the illyrians laid dead on the forest floor.

It quieted down.

“So you’ve hidden your magic this entire time?” Master Raven asked you.

“You’re talking to me about hiding things?” You asked him back. “How many of our debts have you lied about?”

The rest of your hunting group stood behind him. You looked at Hazel and Sherry as you spoke.

“He’s been lying to me. I finished paying back five years ago, but he told me I still had thousands left!”

You heard flapping wings and felt your chest humming with calmness as Azriel landed behind you.

“Why should we trust you? You hid your powers! You’ve probably cheated the entire time you’ve been hunting,” Sole alleged and pointed in your direction.

“Says the male that doesn’t even share his food with his twin sister,” you answered back. Sherry froze a little from your words, but quickly started to nod. She told the others you were telling the truth.

“You’re still a traitor,” Master Raven said.

Seconds later, The Raven flew forcefully towards you. You prepared your shadows to brace for impact. You had multiple times seen The Raven carve the eyes out of someone’s face.

You heard Azriel’s movements behind you, but you knew he would be too late.

The Raven got closer and closer, its claws were flexed towards you. You turned your head to the side, not daring to face the claws that would soon hit your head.

However, they never did.

You slowly opened your eyes and turned your head towards the bird. It was flying in place a small meter away from you.

You looked directly at it and it started to fly upwards. It started to descend as it was directly above you.

With its claws tucked in, it carefully landed on top of your head.

It let out a loud shriek and took flight once more. It flew away and you didn’t see it again.

“You’re free of your debt,” Master Raven said.

“She paid it all back!” Hazel argued.

“She’s not free from it, she paid it!” Sherry continued.

“You’ve paid back your debt,” Master Raven said with a sigh. “Leave, I don’t want to see you here anymore.”

You gave Hazel and Sherry a small nod before you turned around to finally face Azriel and Feyre.

As Feyre opened her mouth to tell you something, both you and Azriel were covered in shadows.

“Nyx, help, fire.”

“Shit!” You said and shadow walked away.

You arrived in front of your cabin, only to see it emerged in fire.

You didn’t hesitate as you ran inside to front door to get to Nyx.

Azriel and Feyre landed on the outside of your cabin just before you were entering it.

“Y/N, stop!” Azriel screamed, but you didn’t hear him. Or, you at least didn’t do as he said.

He ran after you, but your shadows held him back.

“Let me get her!” He screamed.

They didn’t let him go.

He turned to Feyre and saw her in a similar situation.

“Let me go, Azriel!” she yelled looking at him with fire in her eyes. She was just as desperate getting to her son as he was getting to you.

“It’s not me.”

Feyre understood what he meant.

Time stood still as they were forced to wait for you to come back.

Azriel watched as more and more of your cabin fell apart.

Feyre let out a scream as the entire roof collapsed.

Azriel didn’t really believe in any gods, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“Please, please let her be okay.” He whispered.

“MAMA!”

Both Azriel and Feyre turned around in the speed of light as the young boy screamed from behind them.

Feyre immediately ran and picked up her son, but Azriel could only watch you.

You looked awful, covered in cuts and bruises, but Azriel had never before been as attracted to you.

It only took two steps for him to finally have you in his arms again. His left arm was around your waist and the other one held the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest.

He didn’t bother holding his feelings away from the bond between you.

“I’ve saved us all, lovely. You have nothing to apologize for,” he told you. But he knew it would take some time before you believed him.

“Azriel, we should go home,” Feyre told him. Nyx was safely held in her arms.

“You go first,” Azriel told her, his eyes not leaving you. “I’ll come soon.”

Feyre hesitated, but did as he told her.

Azriel loosened his hold of you and pulled away a little. Only for him to see your face properly.

“Did you say no to come to Velaris because you didn’t want to? Or because you couldn’t leave?” Azriel carefully asked you.

Azriel expected you to spend some time thinking, like you always did when he asked you questions.

“I couldn’t leave before I paid back my debt,” you answered him immediately.

“Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes.”

For the first time, both of you opened the sides of your mating bond.

Relief was flowing from both sides.

Azriel’s shadows covered you both and soon you stood on the balcony of the River House.

Azriel turned to you. Your eyes were wide as you looked at the city.

“Wow,” you whispered.

“Welcome home,” Azriel quietly whispered back.

He spent some time just observing you, before he could force himself to go inside.

“Do you want to stay here or come with me inside?”

“Stay,” you answered, your eyes still not moving from the view.

Azriel walked inside to face his family.

You had sat down on a nearby bench when you heard steps behind you.

The view in front of you was too mesmerizing for you to turn around and face Azriel.

“It’s beautiful,” you spoke.

“It truly is,” a voice answered, but it wasn’t Azriel.

You quickly stood up only to face the High Lord of the Night Court.

You immediately started to move to a curtsy.

“Stand up, no need for that,” he said.

You hesitated as you did what he told you to do.

“Azriel told me a lot about you. That you steered the naga saving many lives on the battlefield, that you saved him when he got poisoned and most recently how you saved my son and mate’s lives.”

He took a break as he moved towards you.

“Ever since Azriel mentioned your hunting group, I realized how I let you down.”

You started to protest, but he lifted one finger to silence you.

“I knew about your struggles Under The Mountain. I knew you fought daily to survive, but I still didn’t help you when I should have. And you anyway helped me, saved the most important people in my life. I owe you everything.”

You almost gaped at him.

“I’ll let you to discuss things alone,” The High Lord said as he walked away from the balcony and Azriel showed himself.

He quietly walked towards you and slowly grabbed your hand.

“Let’s just enjoy the view a little longer,” he said and followed you to the bench.

As you both sat down, your shadows arrived carrying cups of hot chocolate.

Azriel’s shadows gave you a cup and your shadows gave one to Azriel.

Before they ran off into the shadows.

“I’m not sure if they leave to give us privacy or to be alone themselves,” Azriel commented.

“Definitely to be alone themselves,” you answered. “My shadows at least are too curious to leave me alone without a reason.”

Azriel turned his head towards you. His hazel eyes glowed as they met yours.

“They remind me of myself.”

A year later

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Azriel asked you.

“No,” you answered truthfully. “Not at all.”

You had soon spent a year in Velaris, a year of happiness, relaxation and safety. It was time to go out of your comfort zone.

You had gone out to eat, explored some book shops with Nesta and even gone flying around with Azriel.

But now it was time for you to do something for yourself and yourself only. The most important lesson, according to multiple people in the Inner Circle.

Azriel moved towards you. He laid a hand on your hip and used the other one to gently lift your chin. He slowly lowered his head and his lips met yours.

“Now?” He asked jokingly.

“Much better.”

The kissing thing was new. Only a week ago did you share your first kiss, but it soon became your new favorite thing.

“You can do it, lovely,” Azriel encouraged you. “And if you want to stop, you can go home whenever!”

You gave him a small glare.

“If I go home before they’re finished, I’ll look horrible!”

“You can just call for me and I’ll fly you home, no problem. And there’s no way you’ll look worse than you did when your shadows did it.”

Your shadows immediately started to pull on Azriel’s hair.

He only laughed them off.

“Good luck, lovely. I’ll be in the area.”

He lifted his arms and squeezed your shoulders as he turned you towards the door. With the help of an enthusiastic push, you walked inside the door to get your first ever professionally done haircut.

Finally, life was something you lived and thrived with, not just something you survived.

Thank you so much for reading!

@i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @saltedcoffeescotch @rcarbo1 @mrsjna @kitsunetori @thecraziestcrayon @blessthepizzaman @mybestfriendmademe @scatteredstardustt @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @topaz125 @miadialila @ivy-34 @goldenmagnolias @bwormie @animalistic0

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

how are men victims when men are straight up so powerful, women feel inferior next to them

Well, first off, thanks for the compliment.

What you describe is actually part of how we got where we are today, because just as men evolved to be bigger and stronger than women, so we too evolved to put the safety of women (and children) before men. That's just how the human race adapted to best survive.

But women did not evolve to put the safety and well-being of men before their own. This turns out to be very important, so keep that in mind, because we'll be coming back to it later.

Once (a minority of) women began demanding the vote, more than a hundred years ago now, men - seeking to aid women in whatever way they could - gave into their demands, and women became more and more involved in political changes and lawmaking over the following decades. This resulted in laws that favored and gave special provisions and protections to women, all in the name of "equality", and usually at the expense of men, who, as before, went along with it because we are hardwired to want to aid and protect women over men.

With the rise of the second wave of feminists, around the turn of the 1970s, this massively intensified, leading to a relentless demonizing of one half of the human race as a class of, well... demons, essentially, and perpetual demands for more aid and special advantages for women. Any man who pointed out that this was not in any way "equal" treatment was tarred and feathered as a "misogynist" and never heard from again. The Marxists infiltrated feminism and the feminists infiltrated the courts, the media and the political and education system, and they all promoted the hell out of this agenda, and women en masse went along with it because of all the free stuff it promised them, and felt no innate drive to see that the other half of humanity was being cared for and treated as well and fairly as themselves.

So now, 50 years on, we live in an age in which 80% of the homeless are men, 80% of the suicides are men, and 94% of all workplace deaths are men. And no-one cares. Universities all across the western world are now 60/40 female/male, and it's common corporate business practice to refuse to hire people for a job simply on the grounds of them being white-skinned and/or male.

So, while I would not want to label men as a class "victims" (the pursuit of victimhood as a political goal and path to success and popularity is another of the biggest problems of today, and another one which likely attained such prominence due to women's increased involvement in political discourse), it's certainly true that men are now systemically disadvantaged in many ways that women are not, and women as a class have many rights, privileges and special protections written into law to advantage them, while men have none.

[misfitmiska]

Something I noticed on my latest Spy x Family re-read:

Berlint in Love (the soap opera that Becky likes) is implied to be pretty popular (it almost seems like it’s the only TV show in existence besides Spy Wars). It’s also heavily implied to feature a romance between a man from Westalis and a woman from Ostania (the male lead Vincent is said to have an arranged engagement to a woman from the west and the show’s theme song is apparently called “Hearts of East and West”, which by the way was broadcasted on the radio during chapter 60).

I guess what I’m saying is, in a Cold War-like context where both countries’ governments are doing everything in their power to maintain a ‘them vs us’ mentality among the population through heavy propaganda, having a seemingly mainstream TV show depict a romanticised, forbidden love-type story between two likeable (?) characters who come from two different sides of the conflict seems like a pretty efficient way to have the masses root for peace between the two countries, actually!

Do you think Donovan Desmond ever complains about Berlint in Love being woke?

[tigerpeachs]

Business or Pleasure - Okkotsu Yuuta

-`ღ´- tags: 18+, fem reader, pet name usage, sex worker, pwp, dub-con (just to be safe), transactional sex, cum shot, choking, shoe licking, fingering, alcohol consumption, oral sex (male receiving), praise, slapping, shoving, tw: assault, scummy yuuta

-`ღ´- wc: 5.6K

-`ღ´- a/n: ya know - I totally skipped over one Yuuta project to flesh this out, but here’s to hoping the other one comes soon as well. also this is my first time trying something like this so hopefully it came out well! if you have any request or comments, my inbox is open  ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_ 

-`ღ´- synopsis: You receive an odd request as a sex worker from a mysterious client. When a large sum of money is provided for your services, you decide to play along, even when things aren’t in your favor. 

It was uncomfortable. You felt uncomfortable. There was something different about this meeting. You were used to sex work and selling yourself. It all came easier to you than the rat race others put themselves through. There were people miserable from working a 9-5, going home to their empty homes, and barely living their useless lives. You didn’t want that. You adjusted your dress and rocked your feet in your high heels, looking up at the elevator numbers change. 

Top floor, penthouse level. You knew the man must be professional from the way he requested you. First, you were sent an NDA before you were even given access to who the client was. You were still allowed to decline if you decided to forgo seeing the client. Once you sent your signature back, which had to be approved by a notary, you received a care package and an invitation to meet your new client along with some instructions. 

Hair must be styled, fresh professional makeup, waxed, shaved, oiled, and moisturized skin. You were to wear a clean-scented perfume, a fresh set of nails, and a tight black dress with red bottom heels. You accessorized with pearls, a black clutch, and a long wool coat. Everything else before this felt like practice. The attempts to look pretty, finding the most flattering dresses, saving up for pretty shoes, and soothing yourself by taking care of your body. 

As the number got closer to the top floor, you pressed your shoulders down and back, then straightened up your posture. You chewed at your bottom lip slightly before the door opened. There was an older gentleman standing before you. He wore a suit and had perfect posture. His hair was greying and his skin was loose, letting you get a read that he must be in his late 60s. 

You began to wonder if this was the person who you’d soon be working for. Not that you haven’t done it before, but you’d rather not sleep with older men again. There were too many awkward silences as they rutted a softening cock against your entrance. 

“Right this way ma’am.” He spoke, leading the way down a lit hallway. You both stopped at a door and he placed his arm out. You looked at him inquisitively before realizing you were still wrapped in your coat. You smiled and thanked him, taking off the material. You felt a chill fall on your exposed back which lacked the warmth from your black dress. He stood in the same position and looked down at your clutch purse. You closed your eyes, smiling one more time; rather more at your stupidity than his kindness, and gave him your bag as well. 

“Please enter the room and wait for the head of the house and me to return.” He departed before you could acknowledge what he said. You walked into the room with the release of a tight sigh. You immediately took in your surroundings in order to become more acclimated.  There was a large table with two chairs, one on each end. There was low lighting and no apparent area of the lightbulbs location. You grabbed a seat and raised your eyebrows as you sunk in. The level of comfort it provided made you want to slouch and drape yourself over the material. How does one make wood feel soft?

Minutes ticked by and you grew bored of the room you were kept in. That thought of slouching from earlier became more delightful as time passed. Your head drifted as you sat. What might you have for dinner tonight? When was your nail tech available again? Maybe you should finish that book on your nightstand that seems to be collecting dust bunnies from neglect. Your mind drifted to worse places. Although the wait was long, it couldn't be worse than some of your previous clients.

Worst case scenario, you were about to be brutally murdered. Though, with this line of work consisting of mostly male clients, that meant there was always the possibility of assault, rape, or worse. Neutral scenario, the client might be into some shady stuff and just wants to have some fun on the side. Best case scenario? Maybe retiring for life and never having to look at your bank account again. Yeah. That sounds pretty good. 

Your daydreaming was cut short by the rustling of the doorknob. You sat up again, back erect, shoulders back, neck straight, with your chest perked up. Your hands remained on your lap instead of the table and you sucked in a slow easy breath. Your eyes glossed over as you got ready to perform. 

“My Apologies, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for long.” You looked over to see…a young man in front of the elder gentleman from before. If you were shocked, you didn’t show it. He was handsome with an almost playful and youthful flare to him. He wore a suit as well with the tie slightly undone. A few buttons were already opened up and his hair was out of place. 

He walked over and eased a hand over his hairline, pushing it back and fixing his side part - almost as if he could feel you analyzing him. 

“No need to apologize. I assure you, it wasn’t long at all.” You were intentional with your words. Although it wasn’t long, it was still a wait. 

As he got closer his scent hit you. Warm and sweet. Something with an amber flare that danced across your senses. His natural scent still came through. It entered your nasal cavity and spread through you like a shot of whiskey. You could almost taste him even from his professional proximity. You stood as he reached his hand out to shake yours. You made sure to apply the same pressure and he gave you a charming smile.

“Yes, well then. Thank you for your patience.” You knew he was trying to get a read on you as well. His eyes quickly did a once-over. The only thing that caught his attention was the mess up of your lipsticks. A mark from your restless teeth during your arrival. Nerves getting the best of you took away from the prestige you tried to showcase for him. 

“Is there anything I can get you?” He questioned as he moved to take his seat “Perhaps a drink?” He sat down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as he interlaced his fingers. His pace was smooth and his voice soft. Yet his presence was still demanding. It left a sense of unease in the room. 

“No, thank you.” You spoke. He nodded at you but spoke his next words to the older gentleman standing by the door.

“Glenlivet Winchester, neat, please.” He moved after acknowledging the young man’s words, “Oh, and water, please. Just in case she’s parched during our meeting.” The older gentlemen paused.

“Yes, right away Sir.” 

He left the room and all the attention was back on you.

The man smiled again, “My apologies, I never gave you my name. Okkotsu Yuuta. Although I’m sure you read the paperwork, you know what to address me by right?” He paused and gave you a moment to prove him right. You did read the paperwork. You memorized every line to secure the opportunity in front of you.

“Yes, Sir. That is correct.” He wanted a clean woman who was obedient in every sense of the word. He wanted you to listen to him. It wasn’t uncommon for CEOs, presidents, lawyers, doctors. They all either really liked control or being under control. 

He sighed with relief, sitting back. He seemed happy. Pleased with himself to have you across from him. His hands smoothed across his thighs, fixing any wrinkles in the material of his slacks. His leg bounced slightly with excitement. You didn’t say a word, waiting for him to break the silence. 

“I’m sorry if I seem improper. I’m just so…” His eyes landed on you again and it felt different this time. His gaze darkened, the polite smile before becoming a condescending smirk. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of what was about to become a reality. Yes, he did his research to find the right type of woman for this. He was happy to see your polished and pristine appearance. Not a hair out of place on your head. But more so, he admired how vigorous you seemed. Your body language, your handshake, hell even your tone was unassailable. 

Yuuta loved money. Very much. But if there was anything he loved more, it was seeing what money did to people. How powerless they became over it. How powerless would you become for it?

“...So excited,” He finished.

The older gentlemen from before came back in with various items. There were fat cigars, a straight cutter, an ashtray, a gold-encrusted liter, two glasses, and a pitcher of water. 

He moves to open the bottle of scotch but your client stops him. 

“Have you served before?” You nod your head, knowing what must be coming next. Yuuta gave the older man a look of dismissal, leading him to walk out the door.  

“C’mere,” He smiles, beckoning you towards him, “Pour me a drink, Sweetheart.” You stood up and walked over to him. He didn’t pay you any mind, opting to cut open one end of his cigar. Your hands smoothed over the bottle and then you twisted the top off. You grabbed the old-fashioned glass as you listened to the wheel of his liter spin. Once. twice. Then a flame sparked on the third attempt. 

Pulling a few puffs through, he relaxed in his seat, leaning back and letting his head fall over the top of the chair. His neck, long and elegant, strained as he pressed the smoke out of his lungs, letting it dissipate above him. He hummed in contentment before pulling his gaze back up to you. You poured him a perfect serving. Two fingers worth. You held it out to him. He gripped your wrist, making you jump slightly from his speed and strength. Your skin burned under his hold. 

He kept his eyes on you as he brought your hand to his mouth. 

You knew better than to look away. His gaze told you everything you needed to know. Keep. Your eyes. On. Him. He sipped from the glass, once, twice before releasing your hand. You shifted your weight on your heels, holding the glass closer to you as your joints ached. He sits properly on his throne and offers to take your hand. You set the glass down and place your hand in his. He spreads his legs a little bit.

“Take a seat for me,” You didn’t have to guess that this show of dominance and your submission did something to him. You could tell from the strain of his pants that he liked playing this game with you. You liked playing games too. 

You stood between his legs as the start of his little competition began. You opt to sit on one leg and drape your legs across the other, knowing it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. You crossed your legs and rested one hand on his chest, the other draped across his shoulders. He grabbed at your waist whilst holding his cigar in his mouth. The expensive smell of his cologne was washed out by thick ringlets of smoke. He removed his smoke for a second.

“Grab the glass for me, baby.” 

You did as you were told, leaning over, slightly out of his embrace. When you returned he took another sip, making you hold the glass for him. Although you knew he was somewhat fit, the seat you took changed your perception of him completely. While you saw a skinny man, his suit worked well to hide the heavy expanse of muscle underneath it. His fingers skimmed across your hip, making your body trust his touch. 

“You listen very well.” He starts to talk. “I like that about you.”

You remained silent following his cues for another sip of alcohol. His hand came up to toy with the shoulder strap of your dress. This moment felt slow, as though you both were moving through molasses. His eyes ran over you, and he took a tentative touch to your collarbone. He pulled you in a bit closer and you did your best to remain still. Sitting pretty. Like a well-trained dog. 

He dragged his nose across your neck, inhaling your scent and groaning in approval. The sound he made caused you to press your thighs together. Thoughts of eliciting that noise out of him again cluttered your mind.

Yuuta felt hungry. His hand dropped to your hip, palming it with excitement. You smelled raw and sweet. It was like a mix of vanilla and brandy. He couldn’t help but press his lips against your neck in a wet kiss, moving up slightly to nip at your jawline. You felt a wave of desire run through you, causing your hands to become unsteady. You retaliate by tightening your hold around the glass and adjusting yourself to press against his erection. 

“Mmm, you taste damn good,” He groans against your skin. You could feel his arousal, heavy against you. You arched your back, enjoying the compliment, and quickly discovered the accumulation of arousal in between your thighs. His hands felt rougher, the drink in your hand rippled as he hitched the fabric of your dress up. Your panties were already damp from his light teasing and he was soon to find that out if he kept inching his fingers up. 

“Too bad you’re just some trashy prostitute.” 

Your rushed hands slammed against his chest, and you quickly moved out of his lap in the process. The scotch fell from your hands, spilling over the rim and onto your client. His cigar ashed out from the process, falling onto his expensive slacks. You swallowed hard as he stared down at the mess you made on him. The glass remained on the floor beneath the two of you. Cracked - just like the facade between you both. 

The room is suffocating in silence and time seems frozen. 

His eyes stayed down for a minute.

Or a few.

Right as you open your mouth, he takes a stand and tsks in disapproval. The cigar drops into the ashtray and he swipes across his slacks to get rid of the ash. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t come out of the fabric well. Yuuta grabbed at your elbow to position you well. He takes one large deep breath. 

A sting spreads across your face. His large hands push roughly at your shoulders, forcing you down so fast that your knees slam against the floor. The sharp pain makes you cry as you hunch over trying to comfort yourself quickly. Yuuta smooths his hair back once more before taking a seat again. He sighs out of exhaustion before taking a look at you. You’re still bowed over, registering the fact that he struck you.

“Hey,” He says plainly.

You look up at him with disdain. No. Disgust. 

He tilts his head at the look and then gives a sweet laugh. He views your pout as comical. Sort of like when a child throws a tantrum or a dog is upset at its owner. He leans towards you and his finger slides under your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“I paid a lot of money for you. I know you’ve been in this line of work for a while and you promote yourself well.” He tilts your head to look at the red mark across your cheek. He whistles at the sight, thinking maybe he was a little too heavy-handed on his brand-new toy. He still wanted you to look presentable after all. “You’re a good businesswoman, right? You come up with your end of the deal typically and men, like me, find that admirable. Girls like you work really hard don’t they?” He forced you to nod before letting go of your chin.

He sits back up, creating distance between the two of you. 

“You can always leave if you want,” He takes his eyes off of you, looking unamused with the thought. He gives you a moment as if it was the respectable thing to do. As if you could pass up a payout like this. While tears brimmed your eyes, you mentally reminded yourself of that. 

“Or,” He drags his eyes back to you and smiles politely. He knows your answer already. It was apparent in the sick look on his face. “Can you be a respectable partner? Do you want another chance to be my good girl?” He leans in a bit, resting his forearms against his thighs.

You knew what he was thinking. 

And that's what made you feel so pathetic when you said -

“Yes, Sir.” In a broken tone. 

His smile grows before he sits up. He grabbed your face with the same brute strength he used before. Although it hurt, he smoothed his hand over the mark on your cheek, gently touching the skin and leaving a burning sensation in its wake. The look in his eyes was tender, endearing, and loving.  

His touch didn’t stop. He slipped a hand under your chin again, holding you in place. The other moved to your mouth, where he pressed his thumb against the seam of your lips. You slowly opened up, allowing him to violate the new expanse of skin. He didn’t have a look of arousal on his face. It was more inquisitive. Like he was examining you with care. 

He dragged his fingers across your gums and against your teeth. He stretched your mouth out before he slid his fingers down your throat. You tensed as you suspend your gag, curious if he would prefer for you to fight the intrusion a little instead. He doesn’t switch his body language up to showcase what he wants. Instead, he runs his thumb across your lips once more, impressed that your lipstick doesn’t smudge. 

“Stand for me,” You didn’t bother verbally responding, only raising up on shaky legs in front of him. He warms up to your obedient nature, leaning back a little as he pulls you forward just a step. 

“That’s my good girl, you’re being so sweet for me.” He sucks at the finger that was just inside your mouth, sending a chill down your exposed spine. 

“Strip for me. Keep your undergarments on.” He sat back more and started to relax in the chair. He didn’t bother watching as you stripped. The dress fell smoothly off your skin as he decided to glance at his wristwatch.

He put his hand up, curling his fingers towards him in a beckoning motion. You step out of the dress, moving towards him. You notice that he grabs at his cock, possibly to adjust himself or maybe to alleviate his erection. He tightened his jaw as he concentrated on your form. You were beautiful. Warm skin and a voluptuous body. Prim and proper. Sweet and ripe for his taking. His eyes glazed over in admiration of such a woman. He could jerk himself off in a matter of seconds from watching you. The thought entertains him, but Yuuta was never greedy. He could hold out for something better. 

He grabs at your waist, pulling you towards him. His hands skimmed over the thin fabric of your underwear, skimming over your sex. His fingers dragged down your thighs and took in the expanse of your skin. He put some weight against one palm, and lightened the other, making you turn in his hold. 

Your back faced him. You wish you could see him but you elected to keep your posture facing away from him. Again his hands skimmed and examined your frame. Light touches pressed against your skin as he felt your spine. He skimmed at the dip of your back, petting over the area as images of you bent over, struggling to take him filled his mind. 

You felt his face come near, the hair from his head slightly tickling your lower back. His hands found their familiar place on your hips once more. He couldn’t control himself.

There was no verbal instruction. Instead, you felt his hands bend your forward. You made sure to fold your body over for him, sticking out your ass, waiting to feel his hands explore your frame once more. But he found what he was looking for. You're soaked. The fabric stuck to your cunt, a silhouette of it forming through beautiful threads of fabric.

His touch didn’t come. 

He cleared his throat, unable to look away from the sight in front of him. 

“Stand up straight for me,” He instructs, leaning back. You slowly raise and you peak at him over your shoulder. He’s covering the bottom part of his face, his unnerving smile gone, and his eyes flit over your frame, landing on your expensive pussy covered by a pathetic excuse for underwear. His mind is still on the place between your thighs. 

“Drop to your knees for me,” He says, rubbing his hands together, working to soothe himself. You do as you are told. You drop down and look back at him, giving slow blinks to him. He wraps a hand around the back of your head. You follow his lead as he pulls you forward. You brace yourself against his knees but continue to follow his motion. 

Your cheek meets his upper thigh, laying against his hard-on. You can feel how big the mass is through the thick fabric of his dress pants. You take a deep breath as he reaches over you, dragging his fingers from the bottom of your spine upwards. 

Once they catch over the latch of your bra, he lightly prods at the fabric. You exhale as he undoes the garment. The lacey piece falls from your skin, your breast chilled from the air in the room. Yuuta pulls the piece off the rest of the way before allowing you to lean back. 

You sat pretty for him.

He smiled at you. You smiled gently back this time. Possibly from his warmth. 

Possibly from his uneasy nature.  

He lifts his shoe towards you. You look down, noticing an amber liquid lightly spread across the leather of his dress shoes. He doesn’t bother playing into your confused nature. Instead, he places the shoe across the warmth of your chest, right over your sternum, and presses in slightly. 

“Be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” 

Silence filled the room once more. 

You didn’t have to do this. You could get up and leave. You looked over to the table to see if any napkins were present. There weren’t. You assumed he wouldn’t be happy if you used your dress or bra to wipe his shoes clean. You looked up at him once more, uncertain. 

He frowned, tilting his head to the side.

“C'mon, lick it up.” You felt frozen in time. That's disgusting. Foul. You don’t know where his feet have been this whole time or how long he’s worn these shoes. You stare at the amber liquid once more and he gets impatient. He grinds the balls of his feet into your chest, annoyed. 

You grip at his ankle to alleviate the pressure. If you thought his hands felt heavy, the weight of his foot was unfathomable. It felt like he was crushing your ribs. You had to press into the ground just to stay upright underneath his dirty shoe. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale through your nose. The money. That large sum of money could easily keep you from doing work like this again for a while. Plus, you supposed you’ve licked worse…

Yuuta smiled as you pulled his shoe closer to your mouth. You ran your tongue across the rich leather, the scotch mixing with the unique earthy flavor. You made sure to suck it up, just as you did your ego. You gazed up at your client, his eyes were hazy and his mouth hung open slightly. You noticed a slight movement from his hand and dropped your eyes to see him palming himself. 

After sucking up each drop of scotch, the man leaned over. You held the liquid in your mouth as he pulled your head closer from the nape of your neck. 

“Don’t swallow yet,” He instructs and you listen. You brace your hands on your thighs, intimidated by his lustful gaze. He leans in more and pulls you in as well. His lips press against yours with hunger and urgency. You moan into the kiss, opening yourself up to him. His tongue pursues yours, and he suckles around it, taking the scotch and grime off his shoe into his mouth. You expect that to be it. Just a kiss for his game. He didn’t relent. His mouth was bruising and demanding. It was a message. You wouldn’t win against him. 

You gasp as he pulls away, seeing such a serious look on his face.

He hums in approval. His thumb slides across your spit-slicked lips for a moment before he grasps at your chin. He pulls you closer and you follow his lead. Your face is close to his again. 

“Can you be a smart girl for me?” He asks before leaning back. He doesn’t bother waiting for your response. Only one glance down at his erection and you understood what he meant. Your hands slide up the expanse of his thighs, skimming over his cock. He jumps lightly at the touch, forcing his gaze back to you. You meet his eyes, expert hands undoing his belt without a single glance away. He chuckles lightly at that and grabs at the cigar on the table. 

You ease your hands into his slacks. Gentle touches, slow moves, teasing in every sense of the word. You tug his pants down just enough for the outline of his cock to no longer be trapped beneath it. There’s a slight light coming from the cherry of his cigar, helping you see the precum that's left a wet mark on his briefs. 

Before removing his underwear you lean over him and press your lips right against his covered tip. He stalls, watching you with his interest piqued. You suck gently at his leaky tip, savoring the taste of him. You had to admit… it tasted better than most of the cum you’ve swallowed down. He pulls gently at your hair and you come up only to take his underwear off. 

His cock slapped against his button-up, his swollen head leaving a bead of cum on the expensive cotton. He watched intently as you took him in. His cock was pretty in every sense of the word. It was flushed pink at the tip, with a base a bit more tan than his milky skin tone. The veins running down his shaft were thick and continued around his pelvis. He curved upwards slightly and once you grabbed at it, it felt warm and heavy in your hands. Most importantly, it was big. 

You got into a proper position, letting your back arch as you leaned forward. One hand braced yourself in between your folded legs and the other led his tip against your lips. He didn’t bother speaking, but you could tell he was excited from the way he scooted his hips forward in his chair. You pressed open-mouth kisses to the underside of his tip, getting the sensitive area wet. 

You can hear him inhale the smoke right as you open your mouth more, letting the head of his cock slip in. Both hands rested against the ground now as you leaned forward, taking more of him inside of you. You suckled around the skin, moaning slightly as you pulled back. Soft breaths fell from his lips as you got into a rhythm. He felt heavy on your tongue. Your jaw ached from the weight and stretch of trying to accommodate him. 

You persisted in taking all of him, flattening your tongue and sucking more of him down. It hurts. A lot. Your nose finally touched the hairs against his pelvis. You purposely clenched your throat around his shaft causing him to grip at your hair. A broken moan fell from his lips that made your arousal feel heavy. The cigar was long forgotten as he used both hands to lead you up and down his dick. 

You kept the pace he set, only breaking it to hold all of him inside you again. Once more, you tightened your throat while licking at his balls. His moans were broken by a slight laugh. He dropped his hands and allowed you to play with him as you pleased. You moved back to his tip, sucking harshly before licking his full length and mouthing at his base. 

You couldn’t help but feel smug at the look on his face. He was ruined. His hair was a mess, the shirt he wore had more buttons undone. And the drunk look on his face told you everything you needed to know. You brought one of your hands up to stroke him and sucked at the under seam of his tip. He shut his eyes, restraining himself. It was too much. Feeling the pressure you forced out of him along with seeing your angelic figure pleasuring it. It made you happy to see him working so hard against you.

You tightened the grip on your stroke and sucked just a little harder causing his hips to stutter. You moved to take his whole cock in again but he moved faster. He grabs at your shoulder and forces you back. Your grip was replaced by his and you watched as he rutted his cock into his hand. More moans fell from his sweet lips as he watched you. 

Swollen lips and tear-brimmed eyes. Your chest heaved and your skin was wet from his precum and your drool. He liked seeing you ruined beneath him. He liked the mark he left on you. He liked seeing you be his mess. The thought of having you again and again and again plagued him. The images flashed before him as his cum shot out across your tits.

Warm cum dripped across your collarbones and breast. It mixed in with the previous mess you made from sucking his cock. The sight was absolutely vile and yet, both of you couldn’t get enough.

Your break was short-lived. 

Yuuta immediately grabs at you before laying you across the table. You try to sit up on your elbows at the very least, but he pushes you back down, shaking all the materials on the surface from his force. 

“Fucking hell,” He grunts, laying his still-hard cock across your pantie-clad cunt. 

“Look at what you do to me,” You don't have to look through. You can feel him. You can feel the heavy weight of his cock prodding at your lower lips. You can feel the sticky drip of his cum still easing out his tip. You can feel how slick he is against your pelvis.  And you wanted to feel him more. 

While you’re anticipating the thought of what that delicious stretch inside you would feel like, Yuuta collects some of the cum across your breast and rushes to press it in your mouth. You don’t hesitate to take his offer. You slide your tongue across his digits as he pumps them in and out of your mouth. His cock jumps at the feeling, tensing with the need to be inside you. 

You’re being so good for him. You take every drop he gives you and you’re looking up at him like you're thankful to be here with him. Thankful to have his cum on your lips. 

And he smiles. 

It touches his eyes for once. 

“Atta girl.” His eyes drop, taking in your naked frame once more. He ruts his cock against your slick-covered folds one last time, squeezing at your hip to control himself. “Thank you for this.” He leans back, tucking himself away.

He helps you sit up and slowly move off the table. 

“Get dressed, then please help yourself to any refreshments.” 

He then walks out without a word to you. 

You slowly get dressed and the moment you straighten yourself up completely there was a knock at the door. You didn’t bother saying come in, instead, the older gentlemen from before walked in. He doesn’t say a word to you. He holds out your coat, purse, and a special envelope. Once placed in your hands you could tell it was filled with unmarked dollar bills. 

You’re led back to the elevator and descend to your normal life.

A few weeks pass by. Life was good. There was no need to schedule new appointments due to the surplus of money Yuuta provided you. You lay across your couch wondering what you could possibly do with your day. There was a new café in town you could try. Or maybe you could hit the farmers market and take a walk into the city. Just go with the ebb and flow of life for a little while. A knock interrupts your daydreaming forcing you to sit up. 

You didn’t dare to answer the door right away since you weren’t expecting any guests. A chill ran over your body as you thought of who it might possibly be. You slowly moved towards your door and listened to hear if anyone was out there. Once the coast was clear you creaked open the door slightly. You look around, not seeing anything until you gaze downward. There stood a letter. In the same envelope.

 The same type of special envelope you recalled receiving from your last client.

[thotsofadepravedwoman]

Serpentine Nights Ch 1,

Ridin’ with James Dean

Pairing: Benny Cross x Fem!Biker!OC

Fandom/Universe: The Bikeriders

Word count: 1105

Summary: As a last resort, Azzie calls in a favor to help keep her people safe.

Trigger warnings: smoking, drinking, this chapter takes place in the bar, borderline harassment, Its the late 60's what'd you expect?, this chapters' pretty tame. compared to the rest of the series.

Series masterlist Main masterlist

___

Lakeside Inn had always been dingy, clouded in smoke and smelling of bourbon. She had come to associate the unique electricity thrumming through the air from the loud music and rowdy patrons with home, the biker bar back home, owned by her father, had always been the same way. She had parked her bike, kicked down the kickstand, taken her gloves off, and popped a cigarette in her mouth before taking the few steps to cross the street and enter the bar.

She could tell they were in the middle of a meeting of sorts, the entire bar filled with bikers in their colors, the leather on her own back worn from years of wear and slightly sunbleached. The men around her looked at her, many catcalls were levied her way, and she wouldn't even want to know how many men were eyeing her backside with lust. She had a simple mission, one goal, one objective, and she would achieve it, even if it meant knocking a few heads.

“Hey there pretty thing,” she could nearly taste the alcohol on the mans breath, his obviously inebriated state leading to him slurring his words ever so slightly. “What's a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” 

“I'm looking for Johnny.” her words came out blunt, but still twinged with her mothers southern accent. “Where might I find him?”

“What’d you wan’ with the big man?” a man beside the first one asked, his eyes beard bamp from what she could only assume was alcohol of some kind.

“That's none of your concern.” she had thrown an uninterested glare at the men blocking her path. “Either point me in his direction, or move so I can find him myself.” 

“Alright, alight. No need to get all feisty on us sweetheart.” The first one had slurred again, bringing his bottle of beer up to his lips, taking a swing while unabashedly raking her figure up and down with his eyes. 

She pushes past the two, shoulder checking both of them, the leather jacket on her arms shifting as she rolls her shoulders, scanning the bar for the dark hair and signature unimpressed grimace. She had spotted a few women inside the bar, the few she saw either hanging off of a biker's arm, or wearing a jacket herself. It took her a second to spot Johnny through the haze of smoke, but when she had found him, she wasted no time in making her way over, taking mental note of the few men he was sitting with.

Johnny had barely noticed her until she was a mere step or two away from the table, her eyes nearly blank, only a dark sense of emergency pulling at the hues in her eyes. He had barely recognized her, having not seen her in quite a few years, the last time being at her mothers funeral nearly 10 years ago. It had almost shocked Johnny to see her after all these years, a full grown woman dressed in her own jacket and not borrowing her fathers. 

“Well, look who we have here.” Johnny said, setting his glass of whisky down, sitting up a bit taller in his chair as he regarded the woman in front of him. “What bring you to-”

“We need to talk.” She hadn't even let him finish his sentence before she grabbed the only empty chair in the establishment, pushing herself in between two bikers, one with black hair, and the other with sandy blond hair, a look of surprise flashing across both males’ faces.

“Right to the point then,”Johnny took a drag from his cigarette, the burning end almost glowing in the low-light., “just like your father.”.

She didn't say anything, just continued to stare at Johnny as he stared back, her conviction almost startling her, where had that sweet little girl gone, the one that had almost cowarred behind her father. He had no clue, but he was interested to know where this new persona had come from. 

“What’d you need?”

“We need to talk.” Her words had conveyed enough of her intent, the blaze in her eye only deepening into a near glare. 

“Alright, alright.” Johnny waved the boys off, only the blond one next to her remaining stationary. “Yall go get a drink or somethin’.” 

She had looked over to the one still sitting next to her, her eyes determined as she looked back to Johnny with a quizzical look in her eye. 

“He stays.”

“My father is dying.” her words were concise, she had no time to dawdle and she knew it. 

“I'm sorry ‘bout that,” Johnny picked up his glass, downing the remainder of his drink in one fell swoop. “He's a good man.” 

“I'm calling in the favor.” she said. It didn't take long for the boy next to her to look over confused. His gaze flickering back and forth between her and Johnny. She was too young to have garnered any favors with Johnny, he could tell, but by the way Johnny had stiffened, his eyes growing concerned and determined, he knew something had to have gone down. 

“What’d you need?’ was all Johnny said as he stubbed out his cigarette. 

“Pigs’ll come circling, we’re gonna need some extra muscle.” the exchange was succinct, nearly formal as such few words were exchanged, yet each sentence carrying an heavy, near grave, importance. 

“We’ll ride out in the mornin’. Take Benny with ya back home till then.” Johnny had nodded towards the man next to her, his deep blue eyes scanning over her leather jacket. 

“Thank you.” That's all it took for her to stand, making eye contact with the blond man and walking out of the bar. She had gathered the man next to her as the Benny that Johnny had offered, seeing as he took out his riding gloves as he followed behind her, kicking the bar door closed with his boot. 

“Where we headed?” Benny had said, his gloves now on as he swung his leg over his bike, kickstarting it as he pulled the kickstand up. 

“North Indiana. Small town.” her words were short, as she kickstarted her own bike, the deep emerald green color standing out from the other bikes around her. 

“Can I atleast know your name before we hit the road?” he asked, his head tilted to look at the undeniably beautiful woman in the pulled her bike up next to his own. 

“You can call me Azzie.” was all she said before she pulled out, her bike roaring as she took off down the street with a barely perceptible smirk. 

[phoenixtakaramono]

I swear to god you were on demon mode when you wrote the multiverse conclusion. My jaw is literally on the floor. I have to compose myself otherwise I’ll just keyboard smash my phone in hysteria.

The way you write makes it so easy to envision the scene in my head, like word for word you set it up so perfectly that I’m like oh okay so I’m really seeing all these Butchers take on one Homelander. That’s ace, that’s juice, that’s every single compliment I can think of.

I can’t wait for the sequel oh my god oh my GOD. All those HLs with one Butcher? HL on HL? The possibilities are endless. Thank you again for sharing this with us!!

This Ask is regarding this 🔞 butchlander multiverse oneshot threadfic on twitter (tumblr read version: parts 1, 2)

Thank you very much for reading! I had The Name of the Game (AO3) thoughts in my brain that are unrelated to the main story so, whilst that 135ch monstrosity is gonna take its time, I might as well offer some unofficial post-main story or during-main story spin-offs—but as threadfic oneshots so they won’t clutter AO3 and/or taint the reading experience when more chapters are added. The brainworms were strong this time, so I might as well tap into that creative surge of inspiration instead of letting it gather dust and maybe never see the light of day.

Re: the threadfic ending. I’d always planned to have the vice versa switcheroo in this threadfic (where it turns from 7 Butchers + 1 TNotG HL into 7 Homelanders + 1 TNotG Billy 😉) but I had initially been uncertain whether to include it in this threadfic itself or allocate it to a separate sequel threadfic. I saw how long this oneshot threadfic was becoming and, well, after having to essentially retype 60% of what I could recall from memory after the last unsaved 58 tweets were lost to the void, I guess you can say the universe helped make my decision, hahaha.

Fun fact: I’d mentioned this in Part II’s comments, but making it the 5 HLs from 5 of my threadfics + the 1 HL from the Truce universe transmigrated into the TNotG universe is us having mercy on Billy. Because, imagine, you’re the scummy Male Lead who has quick transmigrated (world hopped) into 6 parallel universes, and had a relationship with each parallel dimension’s version of Homelander. And upon returning to your own world, you schemed to to get together with your own world’s destined lover Homelander—and it happened, although probably not how Billy had envisioned it with HL taking initiative into his own hands drugging him and making him participate in a seven-way 0rgy to seduce him. But bam! Murphy’s Law struck, and now Billy has to contend with seven jealous Homelanders. They’re the prideful trophy wives who are reunited with the husband they’d thought they’d lost, but he’s alive, and in their eyes they equate it as him “cheating” on them with a new hot floozy (TNotG’s HL). *laughs*

It’s a lot more dramatic if I made it a reunion, so instead I decided to be merciful on our Male Lead service top and instead make 6 of those Homelanders from my other fics, so the narrative is easier to handle not that TNotG HL wouldn’t also be down for a fun time with TNotG 6 other HLs.

Essentially I am willing to serve y’all the Homelander f*cking doppelgänger Homelander scene that we never got to see, Amazon you cowards. But ramp it up a notch, and toss our somewhat nicer to HL TNotG Billy Prime into the sweaty pile of clingy, needy, h0rny affection-craving Homelanders (but ofc Billy has to pay TNotG Homelander the most loving attention and endearments to smooth his ruffled feathers because hoo boooooy, imagine the cocktail of jealousy, insecurity, entitlement, and competitiveness in that one room alone y’all this is a grownass man who’d canonically gotten jealous and had a one-sided beef with a baby).

Like^^^ tell me this man wouldn’t enjoy a seven-way selfcest g@ngb@ng 0rgy session with himself, and with a very willing diabolically handsome V-ed up British Supe patiently servicing them in that pile. TELL ME IT WOULDN’T BE ONE OF HOMELANDER’S WET DREAMS.

[gwynethshadowsinger]

Gwyn and Azriel Connections Pt. 2

Continuation of my last post, and this will be long as well due to me including text from the book itself and my thoughts I jotted down as I was reading.

Ch. 59 of ACOSF - I loved this part with the Valkyries. The friendship bracelets were a good bonding moment between them, and I love how each picked out colors that suited the others spirits. Nesta, in particular, picking out the colors that she did for Gwyn stood out to me.

What do these colors signify? Do they signify anything at all? Colors in question: Blue, White, and Teal.

My thoughts? Blue could be for Azriel and/or her Invoking Stone. White could be for the healing/protection aspect of said stone, or maybe Gwyn has some unknown power that still needs to be revealed. Teal, I could see Nesta picking for the color of Gwyn's eyes 🥹🥰

Ch. 60 of ACOSF - Gwyn cutting the ribbon was a BIG deal. Cassian looking over to notice Azriel attention fixated on Gwyn with "admiration and quiet encouragement shining from his face." How Azriel goes wholly still as if aware of larger forces. The particular wording Sarah uses to describes Gwyn's movements "swift as the winds off the Illyrian mountains, her entire body working in singing harmony." Gwyn becoming the 1st Valkyrie.

Has Azriel attention shifted towards Gwyn? I love the way he is looking at her in this scene and how he went wholly still.

Does he sense a potential threat to Gwyn?

Has his fixation on Elain finally started to wane, and he's realizing Gwyn might become more important to him, but not sure why exactly?

Ch. 60 (still) of ACOSF - The competitive banter between Gwyn and Azriel is 😘. I LOVE that the shadows are dancing around Azriel during this scene & Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge with "we look forward to proving you wrong."

The shadows dancing has to mean something here. They haven't danced around Azriel while he's conversed, joked, or bantered around with anyone else. Maybe they sense Gwyn would be good for Azriel and like her themselves? Instead of appearing to react to Azriel emotions like in other scenes they've appeared in.

This scene also reminds me of Sarah's endgame couples. I think she's planting evidence for a Gwyn and Azriel endgame.

Ch. 60 (still) - The "See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger" toss over Gwyn's shoulder. AZRIEL STARING AFTER WITH AMUSEMENT & NESTA SAYING HE'S THE NEW RIBBON!!!!

AHHHH!!!!! If this whole scene isn't endgame foreshadowing, I don't want it. There is no way Sarah laid this down and wasn't kicking her feet with glee.

Ch. 60 (still 😅🤣) - She wanted to be the first. Wanted Nesta and Emerie and her to be the ones who wiped the smirks from Azriel's and Cassians faces. Especially Azriel's....

Why does this read as if it's from Gwyn's POV specifically?!? Did Sarah unintentionally, or intentionally, give us a little excerpt from Gwyn POV because she already has plans to write Gwyn's story and wanted to give us a little something beforehand?

Ch. 60 - Gwyn was grinning so wildly that her teal eyes glowed like a sunlit sea, and she extended her battered hand to Azriel. And Azriel alone.

I wonder what Azriel was thinking at that moment of Gwyn's teal eyes glowing like that and her reaching out her hand to him 👀

What's also interesting is the theme of the book seems to be "keep reaching out your hand," and we have Gwyn reaching out hers to Azriel specifically 😉

Also, sheesh. In ONE CHAPTER ALONE, Sarah has put a lot of meaningful Gwyn and Azriel content.

Ch. 67 of ACOSF - The Blood Rite. Gwyn kept to the trees for two nights and watched the beasts. She learned where the beasts slept during the day and that they got angry when awoken. She used that knowledge to then lead one of the beasts to the male and his companions camp just in time to help save Nesta and Emerie.

That sounds like spy work.

Gwyn is cunning and great at biding her time for the right moment.

Ch. 68 of ACOSF - Near the beginning of this chapter, we get this scene from Cassian and Azriel in which Azriel talks about spying and Cassian mentions how unspeakable things could be happening to Emerie and Gwyn as well as Nesta. Azriels shadows appear to deepen around him, and his Siphons are said to have even gleam like cobalt fire.

It's nice to have confirmation Gwyn was indeed doing spy work like I had thought while she was waiting and watching those beasts. Maybe she'll become a spy as well and go on missions wit Azriel? They'd be one dynamic duo.

Azriel's shadows deepening and his Siphons gleaming like cobalt fire.. could that be a hint somehow? Because I don't remember his Siphons ever gleaming like cobalt fire in the series when anyone else is in danger of "unspeakable things" happening to them...

Trusting in the training they gave them? Sounds like mate behavior. Endgame couples tend to trust each other to make it out alive, even in dangerous situations where they are separated. I like this new side of Azriel trusting in the girls, maybe even Gwyn specifically.

Ch. 68 of ACOSF - Gwyn is talking to Nesta and Emerie. She mentions how she is tired of being in the library and wants to take a new road. A road that will forge them into something new. And after Gwyn's done speaking, "A cold wind blew off Ramiel's side. Whispering. Murmuring." Gwyn goes on to relay her side of the story of what happened to her and how Azriel saved her by slaughtering all the soldiers within moments & went on to give her his cloak as well as wrapped her in it.

Yessss Gwyn!!! I'm so proud of how far Gwyn has come. She is truly a warrior, a survivor, a woman to look up to. I can't wait to read about her own journey because there is NO WAY we won't get her story told after this.

Um... Azriel didn't hesitate? AND HE GAVE HER HIS CLOAK AND WRAPPED HER IN IT?!?

ISN'T THAT ALMOST EXACTLY LIKE WHAT LUCIEN DID FOR ELAIN (minus Lucien killing anyone given that circumstance)?!?!? And Elain and Lucien are mates soo....

The rest of the story.. I was a blubbering mess.

But Gwyn became Carynthian. Just like how Azriel is Carynthian. Which is just another point that led me to think Sarah is going to have Gwyn and Azriel as endgame. Mates are equal after all.

And while Gwyn might have went back to the library, I just feel and know her story is far from over. Her journey is coming, and Azriel will more than likely be her endgame.

[writeshite]

Puppy Love

Summary:

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace. “I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” You chuckle, “I should say the same; wolves are equally as captivating."

Pairings:

Robb Stark x Male Reader

Tags:

Targaryen Reader | Fluff | Smitten Robb Stark

Words: 2122

Author's Note:

I have not actually watched the show or read the books fully 👉🏾👈🏾 I know things, but most of my knowledge is sporadic and random; it'll be like 60% accurate, I think....in my defense, I want dragons, and I also want Robb Stark, so like what else am I supposed to do 💀. Also, sorry if the High Valyrian in here is shit; I'm very behind in my Duolingo course.

“The dragons have taken back the Iron Throne.”

Robb didn’t quite know how to react to the news; his battle had been for the North, and the workings of the other kingdoms and their squabbles had never immensely mattered to him as much as he knew they should. The ball had been his mother’s suggestion, correction insistence, “As king, you should set an example and get ahead of the other kingdoms.” 

The Targarayens arrive on dragon back - each on a separate one - the beasts shake the ground when they land, thunderous roars echoing into the skies. Her Majesty, Daenerys Targaryen, is poised, expression calm as she descends her dragon; another figure follows behind her - the Queen's Hand Missandei - the other dragon rider, steals more of Robb’s attention. Expression perhaps more joyful, you appear rather ill-equipped for the weather, furs less than satisfactory in Robb’s opinion. Your attire appears snow-touched, with little color - a touch of red on the collar of your coat - and dragon detailing on the lapels. Your silver locks are platted back in a simplistic rider’s style, held together by an intricate golden band.

Your company trails behind, arriving just moments later. Robb is accompanied by his mother, Sansa, and Arya, the latter of the three stares in awe at the dragons. Robb picks up a bit of conversation as you approach them, dying down when you come to stand in front of them; the words are of another tongue - High Valyrian, he thinks. “Your grace,” he greets, “welcome to Winterfell.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” she gestured to one side, “you know of my wife and hand, Missandei,” Robb nods, and she gestures to you, “and my cousin.” 

“A pleasure,” you greet him.

Robb had yet to follow etiquette, and in the spirit of that, he responds to your greeting and awaiting handshake with a kiss - placed on the back of your hand. Your skin trembles in the cold, cool to the touch; he rubs his thumb along it in an effort to create some heat. The purple of your eyes was entrancing, deep pools that drew his gaze easily. His mother’s cough draws him back; her disapproving and mildly irritated glance is counteracted by Sansa and Arya’s amused ones. The servants lead you to your temporary quarters, and Robb’s linger on your retreating form; his mother’s lecture drifts elsewhere in his mind, barely settling before it’s tossed aside by the glee of seeing you once more at the welcoming banquet.

Winterfell was colder than you expected. 

The invitation had seen no hurried response - with the rebuilding of King’s Landing, a new Dragon’s Pit, and many other matters - coming to Winterfell had primarily been driven by the need for a break. You rode on Morghon, Daenerys, and Missandei rode on Drogon, with Rhaegal and Viserion following and a company of Dothraki followed from the ground. The cool weather had been the first thing you’d noted, the second being the admittedly attractive King in the North. He donned a thick fur cape overtop his attire, a ringlet crown surmounted by iron spikes, and three wolves at the central front.

“Dubāzma,” you shrug at Daenerys’ warning tone; you hadn’t done anything; you simply glanced at the man.

You counter such, “Eman gaomagon daorun, ivestragon zirȳla Missandei.” 

Missandei shakes her head, amusement in her tone, “Iā bughegon isse suvion iēdar kostilus,” she jests.

You shake your head, and the conversation breaks off as Lord Stark welcomes you to Winterfell. Daenerys responds with light introductions for both Missandei, then you.

“A pleasure,” you say once introduced, hand held out, ready for a handshake. Lord Stark does something far different. Taking your hand, he turns it over and lays a peck on the back of it, causing Lady Stark’s eyes to grow wide in surprise and his sisters’ expressions to morph into grins.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replies, eyes locked on yours as he does so. His hand remains with yours for seconds longer, thumb caressing the skin, and when her ladyship breaks the brief haze with a cough, he leaves behind a phantom warmth.

The temporary chambers are cozy, readily warm, and stocked with furs; you set your luggage by the bed and don’t dwell too long on them - furs, a bed, fire, and comfort - as the welcome banquet requires far more attention. You replace your traveling coat with one more suitable for festivities - dark with gold embroidery and light fur trimming on the bottom. You exit the room to find Lord Stark’s figure leaning against the wall opposite, and a smile lights his face at the sight of you.

“Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?” you inquire.

“If you’d allow it,” he responds with a hint of hope. You chuckle and nod, drawing out a broader smile on his face. The hall is not as far off as you’d imagined; light chatter filters through the open doors as people mill into the open-spaced hall. Far from the entrance sits a horizontally set long table - the Starks on the right, Taragrayens on the left - the other tables line the sides, leaving the middle empty. 

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the announcer declares, drawing attention to you both; he announces you next, “...of House Targaryen….” It had been your idea to drop your name of Velaryon, “...Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” The latter of the titles stood more as a slight mockery, with your old life on the remnants of Old Valyria, those that had spotted you and Morghon had called you that in whispers.

You take the two remaining seats at the long table, Robb near the center, you near the edge, close to Missandei. The food is wonderful; meats, deserts, ale, and various Northern delicacies are brought to the tables - the honeyed chicken may well become one of your new favorites. People begin to mingle after the main courses as music fills the halls in steady beats; you follow suit at Lord Stark’s request to dance. 

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip, circling each other at a slow pace.

“I would agree.” His arm moves up, and you meet it, wrists side by side, “dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.”

You chuckle, “I would say the same; wolves are equally as captivating,” your arms turn, both palms now against the other; he laces his fingers with yours, a cheeky grin on his face. You turn to circle in the opposite direction, the crowd around you filtering out as you remain fixated on each other. You draw back, hands still intertwined; coming back again, he places his other hand on your shoulder as yours goes to his hip. A few paces and you should separate from the other, turn to another person and carry on the dance, but you don’t, remaining in each other’s grasp as you drift across the floor. 

The music changes and a joyful beat begins; the formality is lost as the crowd of dancers switches to more upbeat and expressive movements. Lord Stark tugs at your arm, head tilting towards the doors; you turn briefly to glance at the long table - Lady Arya is immersed in conversation with Daenerys; Missandei and Lady Sansa are the same; Lady Stark herself, however, appears to have swallowed a lemon, eyes glaring daggers at his Lordship. You return your attention to said man and allow him to drag you away from the hall.

Robb hadn’t paid much attention to his mother’s lecture; her words went in one ear and out the other; she wasn’t angry, not truly, merely cautious. The interest seemed mutual to some extent, though the matter of marital affairs would be complicated - gods know the Lords of Westeros would turn their noses high in disgust - his almost engagements had all fallen through when he’d paid them little mind. 

“Robb Stark!” His mother’s voice cuts through his thoughts, “I understand your attraction circumvents what the realm would regard as suitable, but that is no excuse, do not trifle with him; we don’t need them setting our lands ablaze.” 

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Sansa comments after their mother leaves. 

Robb purses his lips; a wise man would take the words to heart and cease whatever he was doing - even if this interaction bore positive fruit, there was no certainty it would be in the best interest of the North. Her Majesty could have him abdicate his throne in favor of moving into the Targarayen household, or she could disapprove of him and feed him to her dragons. Robb was a man of heart, the kind that intercepted the servant at your chambers and took it upon himself to escort you personally to the dining halls.

Your previous coat has been replaced by a darker one; golden dragon heads decorate the cuffs, and it sits tighter on your person, with the fur trimming at the bottom fluttering delicately as you walk. “Have you come to escort me, Lord Stark?”

“If you’d allow it,” he responds, and gods, he hopes you would. He feels himself smile wider at your agreement, arm threaded with yours; the short walk to the dining halls leaves him ecstatic.

“Lord Robb of House Stark, King in the North, Lord of Winterfell…” the declaration echoes in the hall; brief glances become more fixated on your intertwined arms. His mother’s eyes squint, a frown on her face, “...of House Targaryen, Dragonheart of Old Valyria, and Prince of The Ashes.” 

Robb thanks the gods; his mother’s seat is further from him; if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d have died at the entrance. “You’ve taken to my cousin quite quickly, Lord Stark,” Her Majesty’s voice draws his attention.

Her gaze is steady as she regards him, “I suppose, your grace, is that a problem?” 

It’s no secret that certain parts of Westeros and their rulers disapprove of other attractions; Robb’s not quite sure where his father would have stood on the matter - he imagines him supportive - he knows his mother prefers he be less expressive on the subject. Queen Daenerys had been quite clear on her stance, disregarding the disapproval of her new laws and marriage, though that’s not to say she would like to have him as her in-law.

“Not as long as he is happy, and well,” she answers, “I have little family left; I cannot help my worry.”

There is an underlying threat to her words, and Robb nods in understanding, and it satisfies her enough to turn away from him. The food is brought in just after - honeyed chicken, venison pies, cod cakes, ale, candied bread - the music begins near the tail end of the feast. Some sway to the tune, conversations carrying in the air, as the music changes to something more befitting a dance. He stands and moves down the long table towards you, “Care for a dance?”

“One would think you’ve become besotten with me, Lord Stark,” you quip. 

“I would agree; dragons are a rare sight in the North; anyone would be enamored.” Your arms meet in the middle, level to your heads, as you circle each other; even as the other dancers switch partners, you remain together. Up until the music changes and a less formal tune carries in the air, you follow suit, hand in Robb’s as he drags you from the hall. You stroll idly through the halls, hands held together and swung lowly and sharing idle chatter.

“What do you call your dragon?”

“Morghon,” you respond, “it means death, a fitting name. Would you like to see him?” Robb pursed his lips, and you chuckled at his hesitation, “Don’t tell me you’re scared of dragons,” you teased; coming to a halt, you tugged him closer, “certainly not after flirting with one.”

He can feel the heat creep up his neck and imagines his skin pinker at the moment, “What if he bites?”

“He won’t,” your graze drifts a little lower, “but I could.”

“Is that an invitation to your bed, my prince?”

“If you’d like, you could show me how warm the North could be. I’m sure a few hours of demonstration should suffice.”

“The demonstration will have to wait for another time, your grace,” his mother’s voice cuts in. You both jump apart, hands loosely held together; she grabs Robb by the arm, “I apologize for the interruption, your grace, but we have some familial matters to attend to.” His face pinches into a frown as his mother leads him away; he remains turned enough to send you a brief wave and a smile and is thrilled to see you return it.

End Note:

Hope you enjoyed this mess. Stay hydrated.

[tackletofset]

If I had to choose one word to describe "Dark Heir," it would be 'OTHERWORLDLY.'

[There will be NO SPOILERS in this Review, only vague hints]

“Critiquing the idea of a classic hero and a reclaiming of the queer villain”

These words are written under the blurb of the very ARC. Sadly, most people are still missing the point.

Dark Rise is my true love in the form of a book series. 

As a queer person who grew up sympathizing with villains (who are often queer-coded), this book series undoubtedly serves as a great form of escapism. I feel seen and understood. I found a home here.

Reading Dark Heir was a surreal experience, almost like a sudden storm hitting me all at once. It was like being pulled into a whirlwind. It is everything I could ever wish for!!!

I devoured this book in just TWO DAYS, which is unexpected given my typically SLOW reading pace. It's worth noting that Dark Heir is considerably longer than Dark Rise (with Dark Rise comprising 34 chapters and Dark Heir containing 51). It is also fueled by my eagerness to continue the story after a two-year wait, particularly following that cliffhanger!

Will has always been my favourite character since "Dark Rise," and this sequel only amplifies it. I perceive his struggles with the truth of his identity, as a metaphor for internalized queerphobia. Many queer youth, including myself, have been told that our queerness is evil and abhorrent, leading us to hide and deny our true selves in the pursuit of acceptance from others. Will's yearning for his friends' acceptance, especially from Violet, his best friend.

Many of us would be delighted to see that James has POV chapters in this book! It's great to see his perspective on not only his feelings about Will or Sarcean but also about his family history.

I'm equally excited about introducing the new character, Visander, and I'm thrilled that he can be interpreted as trans. Knowing that CS Pacat identifies as genderqueer/non-binary, I would like to see him writing more trans-coded characters. Visander is a character who fascinates me, as there are times when he can be both lovable and yet totally frustrates me.

Praise Pacat (again), who has been so generous to give us the “Surprise POVs” which made me scream and jump up and down at 2 a.m.

I seriously love the parts where we got to explore more of the Old World. The twists within them are both surprising and, in a way, expected. I've always held the belief that history was written by the victors, and as a result, the truth about the Dark King and the Betrayer was also lost in time. It was also very gratifying to see that the characters that were once hailed as the paragons of virtue were not so saint-like after all.

I hate classic heroes. I despise them and I won't even try to hide it.

Doubtlessly, the Old World chapters are my favourites. And I yearn to have even more of them in Book 3 because I want to know more details about how Sarcean came to power- and his downfall, and the full truth about his relationship with Anharion! I wouldn't mind the book stretching to 60+ chapters to accommodate it.

Pacat has indeed delivered on his promises to infuse this sequel with even more "on-page gay" content, so readers need not fret about the shortage of romance. They are plentiful, to say the least.

Now, returning to my initial point:

!!!Dark Rise is not a story about escaping an abusive male partner!!!

While numerous stories tackle this theme, and it is worth telling, this is not one of them.

This is a story about queer people reclaiming their identities. It speaks to those who have been vilified, demonized, alienated, and even disowned from a young age by the very individuals who should have shielded them—their parents and guardians.

They are continuously taught that their queerness is immoral, abhorrent, and despicable, leading them to believe they must conceal and deny their true selves, often feeling as though they are harbingers of evil and thus destined for condemnation. It sheds light on how queer youths grapple with internalized queerphobia due to an environment that refuses to accept them for who they are.

The accusations hurled at the "villainous figures" within this story mirror the stigma that the bigoted society frequently directs at queer individuals: that we’re lewd, vulgar degenerates, disease-spreaders and a danger to children. 

Dark Rise and Dark Heir underscores our society’s twisted morality that the only available paths for queer individuals are either to deny their queerness or face the gravest consequences. In other words: be converted or unalived.

For those of us who have been demonized and alienated by the people who were supposed to protect us—we are not evil. We do not deserve the abuse directed at us, and it is not our fault. There is nothing wrong with us. We deserve happiness, love, safety, and acceptance.

We should all be unapologetic and unafraid of our true selves, like James.

And oH MY GOD. THAT ENDING!!! You think the prologue was crazy??? You wouldn’t LIVE to see that ending.

I have fantasized about *that* final line before, but I thought it was cheesy and that it might be something more like Prince Gambit's "The King! Damianos! He lives!" but it was not like that at all 🤣🤣🤣

It's my dream cheesy line 💜💜💜