#And the powerful but kind wife with her cool powers

[fortunatefires]

Am I about to get a vampire hunter x hot vampire couple threesome in my book right now? AHHHH is this a fucking why choose??!?

[oozeandgoo-art]

everyone is sooo in love with vakori on account of le is so cool and smart and deeply pragmatic and is also completely batshit insane

[inkoutsidethelines]

Thinking about how I would write an adult Scooby-Doo series, because I think it can be done.

The first thing I’d do is make the characters actually be adults.  Still young, but adults, in the mid to late 20s range.  Mystery Inc. is a private detective type business that they run together.  In this universe, the supernatural/ghosts/etc are real, but not necessarily common, so when they take on a case, the culprit might be a person disguised as a monster, or it might actually be a real ghost.  The stakes can be higher; sometimes a bad guy is legitimately trying to kill them.  Sometimes the mystery they’re trying to solve is a murder.  Sometimes they actually get hurt on their cases.

Fred: the core of Fred’s character should be that he’s incredibly kind.  Like, give a stranger the shirt off his back kind.  The “Fred can’t talk to potential clients because he might take a case for free and we need to eat” kind.  He’s an honest and good person and sometimes gets himself into trouble because he assumes other people are too.  While he’s not very good at reading people or noticing ulterior motives, he’s brilliant when it comes to mechanical or engineering type stuff, so he’s the one who keeps the mystery machine running, builds their gadgets, and of course, designs the traps.

Daphne: she comes from old money, and her parents absolutely despise her life choices, to the point where they haven’t officially disowned her, but they have basically cut her off, so she doesn’t actually have access to any family money.  Growing up wealthy has granted her a variety of skills, including speaking multiple languages, horseback riding, and fencing.  She’s very into fashion and jewelry (even if she can’t afford it anymore) and has extensive knowledge of both that can occasionally provide a vital clue in a case. And even though her parents have cut her off, Daphne still has a wide network of contacts she can ask for favors sometimes, because she’s personable, and people tend to like her.  Daphne is also very emotionally intelligent, and is usually the one who can spot when someone is lying to them.

Side note - I ship Fred and Daphne, so I think I would start them off as an established couple for this universe.  Dating, engaged, married, I don’t care.  They are stupidly in love, ride or die for each other.  There’s no will they, won’t they, no worries about cheating.  They are in a healthy, happy, loving relationship, and no one (not even Daphne’s disapproving parents) are going to mess that up for them.

Velma: she is the forensics nerd who sometimes gets super excited about the wrong thing at the wrong time (”He was mummified in seconds? That’s so cool!” “Velma!  His wife is standing right there!” “Oh.  Sorry.”).  She’s not purposely insensitive, she just gets laser focused on her work and forgets to filter herself sometimes.  She’s also the one who can get so fixated on solving whatever mystery they’re working on, she’s willing to bend or maybe break laws.  Is breaking and entering really so bad?  Not if it gets them answers.

Shaggy: he is still the comic relief, but he’s the comic relief by being the only person in the group that actually has common sense.  He manages the business’s finances, he’s the only one who knows how to cook, and the others tease him for being a coward sometimes, but Shaggy maintains that if a ghost with an axe is coming for you, running is the only sensible option.  He should also have a range of random knowledge that sounds useless, but sometimes saves the day (ex ventriloquism, origami, the history of spoons, etc).

Scooby: as this is a universe where supernatural creatures exist, Scooby is an ancient eldritch type being that took a shine to Shaggy when he was a kid, and took the form of a talking dog to befriend and hang out with him.  Aside from the talking dog bit and not aging, he never uses his powers in a way that anyone notices.  The audience is not told upfront that Scooby is an ancient eldritch being; it should slowly be hinted at throughout the series so the audience put it together, but the characters never realize it.  Scooby genuinely considers Shaggy to be his best friend, and cares about the rest of the gang too.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

If your taking requests can you please do Yandere Tengen uzui and his wives with a reader who died and was born as Tengens wives. ( a bit like recantation mawhnas)

Reincarnated Wife to be | Yandere Uzui Tengen + Wives

Being reborn into the world of shinobi is hard

Your higher intelligence is helpful for somethings but it still doesn’t compare to strength training before you can properly walk

Not to mention its the Taishō era 

Everything is different 

No plumbing 

No typical school

And on top of all that demons are alive and well

In your new lifetime demons don’t physically appear until your early teens

“That man…”

“Yeah a demon. Those overpowered slugs got to our target before us.”

It’s brutal 

That the clan you come from was just so nonchalant of an epidemic on humanity

That was arguably much more brutal then sending a shuriken before an unsuspecting person’s eyes

You only realize they intend to give you away when you hear whispers of the arranged marriage

“He’s the only one who’s survived…”

“Ah he must have the best genes…”

“....or the only one who actually can learn from those graves on their property.”

“What are they at….six?”

The final nail in the coffin is when your prepped to meet with your fellow wives

“Make sure you take note of their weaknesses. It’ll make all the difference when it comes to his favorites.”

Your hesitant

By now you recognize the venue, your sister wives, his surname

But despite how cool it is you don’t want to marry the future sound hashira

You know how it goes 

And your not sure if you’d survive with your addition to the other wives

So you run

Using your built up skill and knowledge to get as far as you can from your family if you could call it that

Your plan is to hide in someplace until you can gather enough wisteria to give yourself a private sanctuary

In the meantime you try to find the mineral of nichirin

Enough for you to craft a decent weapon that bodes well when demons occassionaly attack you

For years you’re sure your scott-free 

Able to slowly widdle at the demon’s population in your little sanctuary 

That is until you stop at the sound of jingling chains from the roof

“I heard there were talks about a mysterious ninja outside of demon corp! To think it’d be just who I was looking for!” 

You barely escape a young but powerful demon slayer who you can’t seem to decipher

Is he trying to kill you? 

To catch you?

Why does he keep following?

You hold up pretty well for a while unil you narrowly dodge a star thrown in your direction

“We really liked you (Y/n). Why’d you choose to run away?”

If it wasn’t worse already all three of them seem to arrive from the shadows to continue their assault

You try to reason with them 

“Can’t you understand?! I didn’t want to be forced to marry some guy I didn’t know!”

“But you knew us! Doesn’t that make it better?!”

“No it really doesn’t!”

It’s getting overwhelming 

So unless you’ve mastered some kind of style of your own

They’ll overpower you

“Yack!” 

Your strength is preying on their care for one another 

Sending an unusual violent kick toward Hinatsuru 

You take advantage of them running to help her

Easily disarming a distracted Tengen, you run off 

But you aren’t home free 

For whatever reason your ex-fiancees are just so hung up about you 

And between Uzui’s new occupation he’s aiming for your capture

“You’re just as flashy as I’d hoped! When I do win, there’s sure to be fireworks.”

[thoughtsandmusingsandideas]

Dehya + Arlecchino Forgotten!Creator AU

A proper response to @ninjacomix sorry for the wait!

Dehya

You woke up in the deserts of Sumeru when you first arrived in Teyvat, so it’s no surprise that the first people you met were Eremites 

Unlike the Traveler, you are not immediately attacked- half because of your divinity subtly making them more docile, and half because you’re covered in sand and dressed in foreign clothes and practically melting under the sun- and yeah, you look too pathetic to rob

They end up taking you back to Aaru Village, and that’s where you end up meeting Dehya.

Well, technically you meet Dehya the day after you arrive, when you rush outside during a sandstorm and spot her fighting monsters

It’s a bit surreal, watching an actual fight like this, and you’re frozen in awe

At least until you notice the Rifthound sneaking up on her

You’re panicking as you lunge forward, feeling something begin to expand inside you, and-

Everything is still

Both the storm and the Rifthounds are frozen in place, and Dehya is looking at you, extremely confused

“What is this?!?” “HOW SHOULD I KNOW?!?!” “YOU’RE THE ONE DOING IT!!!!”

Dehya dispatches the Rifthounds quickly, and the sandstorm resumes

And the next day, the both of you set out towards the Akademiya, wanting to figure out what your deal is

(You don’t realize that now the gods are remembering the creator, the Akademiya is Scrambling to find any and all information on you and why they forgot you)

During the journey the both of you grow close, and a few weeks in, the both of you wrapped in a blanket to protect from the chill of a desert night, you turn to her.

“Hey, let’s get married.”

And after choking on her water, she agrees to it

Congratulations! You have a wife!

The Creator, showing up hand in hand with an Eremite is not what an Akademiya scholar expected to see at four in the morning on a random day, but that is what he saw- and he thinks the subsequent panic is very understandable

Before you know it, you and your new wife are sitting in the acting grand sages office as Nahida uses some kind of Archon communication to page the other Archons

It takes about an hour for them to burst through the door

(In that time you’ve taught Alhaitham and Dehya how to play Rock Paper Scissors, Go Fish, Uno, and you’re in the middle of teaching them slapjack. Alhaithams hands are suspiciously red and Dehya is smirking)

They’re instantly fretting over you, apologizing for forgetting you and generally praising you, completely overwhelming until Dehya pulls you away

“Hey! Who are you supposed to be!” It’s Venti, disappointed that his god has been taken from him

“That’s my wife!” You state proudly.

And then everything clicks

“Wait, I’m a god?” 

The room explodes in noise, but Dehya’s hand never leaves yours

Arlecchino

When it comes to Arlecchino, instead of taking you to Aaru Village, you ask them to take you to the border of Fontaine

You’ve only made it to the end of Sumeru in the Archon Quests- maybe if you head to Fontaine now, you’ll get to see the Archon Quest in person!

It’s only once you’ve taken the Aquabus to the Court of Fontaine that you realize you do not have a single mora on your person. 

It’s after a day of exploring that you end up near the sea, and after being startled by a giant crab appearing from nowhere (It was Very Scary I promise) you end up tumbling into the water, you’re trapped under, and-

Wait… you can still breathe!

You light up with excitement, diving deeper, and that begins your life as a diver.

You end up becoming a collector, selling cool shells and oddities to anyone in the Court who’s willing to buy them (You’ve built up a pretty good rapport with the supply manager of Chiori’s Boutique)

It’s also underwater that you discover you’re the creator- finding an old abandoned temple with murals of a god that look just like you, helping you make sense of the power beneath your skin

But hey, if no one else was gonna bring it up, you wouldn’t either

And it’s underwater that you end up meeting your first Fatui member: Freminet

He was surprised when he first saw you swimming around- but now he’s grown pretty accustomed to you, and sometimes you guys even interact

Admittedly, sound doesn’t travel well underwater, so most of your communication is via charades, but the two of you end up growing close

Freminet shows you cool diving spots, you collect valuables from the ocean floor together, swim together in blissful silence, and play with all the friendly ocean animals you seem to attract

It only takes about a month for Freminet to begin mentally referring to you as mother (This boy is starved of a parental figure)

And after that it only takes a week before he slips up

He’s waiting in Father’s office, looking around as he waits for him to arrive

It’s pretty sparsely decorated- but there are a few ornaments still left around.

“Mother would like this…” Freminet muses, looking at a small model boat, delicate and intricately carved.

A flash of heat at his back. “… What did you just say?”

After a very long and frantic explanation, and a slightly shorter lecture on stranger danger, Arlecchino demands to meet you.

You first meet the harbinger after a day diving with Freminet, and he shoots you an apologetic look as you both surface to find a harbinger on the shore

And then you make eye contact

Your thoughts: That is a harbinger. From the Fatui. Huh. I’m going to pretend not to know that.

Arlecchino’s thoughts: That is the Creator that The Tsaritsa told me to look out for. They have the exact same appearance. I will pretend not to know that.

Arlecchino asks you to tea to get to know you better, and it devolves from there.

At your tea party, she introduces herself as a completely normal orphanage matron, and you’re polite enough to not point out that her brooch is a tiny Fatui emblem

You introduce yourself as a normal diver and she ignores the fact that your spoon has been stirring sugar into your tea without you even touching it

Your relationship continues in a similar fashion, with the both of you pretending to be a completely normal couple

After a few months, when both of you are getting married, you both ignore the oddities of your guests

“Ah, darling, the Fatui are here.” “Oh yes, they sponsor my orphanage, how polite of them to come.”

“Angel, Morax is here.” “Huh. Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” “Yes.” “Well, I’m glad he could make it.” 

The both of you continue with intense purposeful ignorance

Venti: Your grace, do you really want to marry the harbinger? Is she threatening you?

You: What harbinger? I’m marrying a completely normal and totally average orphanage owner. So kind and generous she is.

Arlecchino, in the background, kicking Childe for trying to start a fight at her wedding, pausing to turn and wave: Hello.

Also Freminet is the flower girl

[novaursa]

For your short stories, can you please do one with Cregan Stark and wife reader where he catches her trying to lift The Ice and use it, but it's too big for her. He finds it amusing but he ends up helping her.

The Weight of Ice

- Summary: You try to lift Cregan’s ancestral greatsword which he wields with ease. It doesn't go as planned.

- Paring: wife!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, and is married to Cregan. For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

The great hall is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the hearth. You find yourself alone, the faint echoes of footsteps long gone. The evening sun filters through the high windows, casting slanted rays of gold across the stone floor. Your eyes have wandered to the far end of the hall, to the place where Cregan’s Valyrian steel greatsword, Ice, rests upon a stone rack. It’s a weapon of legends, a relic of the ancient Starks—far too large for any man who wasn’t of their bloodline, far too heavy for anyone who hadn’t grown up under the weight of it. 

You’ve heard stories about Ice from Cregan himself. How it sang through the air during battle, cutting through armor and bone with ease. You’ve never dared to touch it—until now. 

The steel calls to you, shimmering in the dim light, and before you realize it, your feet are carrying you closer. There’s something in your heart, a mix of curiosity and something deeper. A desire to feel its power, to understand a piece of the man you’ve married by holding what he wields so effortlessly. Your fingers brush the hilt, cool and unforgiving under your skin. A sense of anticipation builds in your chest as you wrap your hands around it.

You try to lift.

Nothing.

You shift your stance, planting your feet more firmly. With a grunt, you attempt again, pulling with all your strength. The sword barely budges from its resting place, its weight far beyond what you anticipated. You can feel your muscles strain, your breath catching in your throat. 

Still, it refuses to move.

A low chuckle fills the hall, rumbling like distant thunder, and your heart skips. You freeze, fingers still wrapped around the hilt of Ice, and turn to find Cregan standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with amusement gleaming in his grey eyes. His mouth curves into a smile, the kind that never fails to make your pulse quicken. 

“Were you planning to fight someone, my love?” His voice is deep, warm, laced with affection that softens the teasing note in it.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you can’t help but return his smile, though a bit sheepishly. “I was only curious,” you admit, releasing the sword and stepping back as if it had betrayed you. “It’s… heavier than I expected.”

Cregan walks toward you, the sound of his boots echoing softly across the stone. His presence fills the room, as it always does. “Ice was forged for a Stark’s hand,” he says, reaching past you to grasp the hilt with ease. The sword lifts smoothly, effortlessly, as if it weighs nothing at all in his grip. “But you wanted to feel its weight, didn’t you?”

You nod, slightly embarrassed by the admission. He steps closer, towering over you in a way that should be intimidating, but never is. His expression is soft, full of affection, and something deeper that you can’t quite name. 

“Let me help you.” His voice is low, intimate, and before you can protest, he guides you to stand in front of him, your back pressed lightly against his chest. The warmth of his body seeps into you as his arms slide over yours, his large hands engulfing your smaller ones. You can feel the strength in him, the controlled power that comes so naturally to him. 

“Ready?” he asks, his breath warm against your ear.

You nod, your heart racing at the closeness, at the sensation of being enveloped by him in every sense.

Together, your hands on the hilt, Cregan lifts the sword again. It’s still impossibly heavy, but with him guiding you, the weight seems more bearable. Slowly, he moves your arms, guiding Ice through the air in a slow, deliberate motion. The sword hums faintly, the Valyrian steel singing as it cuts through the empty space, and you feel a thrill rush through you.

“You see?” His voice rumbles through his chest, and you can feel it vibrate against your back. “Ice isn’t just heavy. It’s balanced, precise. You don’t fight the sword—you move with it.”

You focus on the way his hands guide yours, the ease with which he controls the greatsword, and yet… there’s something deeply intimate in the way he teaches you, in the way he holds you so close. Your breath catches as he leans his head down, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck as he murmurs, “You don’t have to be strong to wield it, Y/N. Just… in sync with it.”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you at his touch, his words. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, his grip loosening on the sword as he lets you feel the weight of it again, just for a moment, before taking it from your hands entirely. 

The sword clatters softly back onto the rack, and you turn to face him, your chest rising and falling with the remnants of excitement and something more. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. There’s an understanding between you, a shared moment that lingers in the air like the afterglow of a storm.

Cregan lifts a hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek with the same care he used to guide your hands just moments before. “You don’t need to wield Ice to be strong,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours. “You are fierce in your own way.”

You smile at that, leaning into his touch. “I wanted to understand,” you whisper, “to know what it feels like, the sword you carry.”

His lips curl into a soft smile, and he pulls you into his arms fully, holding you close. “You already do, my love. Ice may be a part of me, but so are you.”

The words wrap around you, grounding you in a way that the sword never could. His arms are your fortress, his heart your shield. And in this moment, standing in the warmth of his embrace, you realize that the weight of Ice pales in comparison to the depth of the bond you share with him.

“I’d say you’ve done well for a first attempt,” he teases lightly, brushing a kiss across your forehead. “Though perhaps next time, you should let me handle the Valyrian steel.”

You laugh softly, resting your head against his chest, content in the warmth of his arms. “Next time, then.”

And as the fire crackles softly in the hearth, the great hall feels a little smaller, a little more intimate, with just the two of you standing together, wrapped in each other’s warmth.

[rs-hawk]

NOBLEMAN MINOTAUR! NOBLEMAN MINOTAUR!!

Part Two

Minos was a tyrant king and DESERVED to be murdered. His wife's bastard son did just that, and freed his mother's people. She did not want to be a ruler, instead wanting to stay with her new husband on Olympus, but neither did Minotaur. He was a frightened thing, afraid of what his hands and done, and could do again. He could not trust himself to be a ruler. Instead, Pasiphae searched for someone who never cared for Minos, but would be a fair and kind ruler.

Despite her previous cursed madness, she still loved her son and wanted him to be happy. He was not the first monster born of a God's cruel joke, and he would not be the last. She would not place anyone on the throne who would not ensure her son was cared for. So many rejected even the power she offered them as she refused to budge on that. Her son would be taken care of. He would be seen as a person. She hadn't had the power to ensure it now, but she did now.

It took much longer than she expected, but she found a man to take over her husband's throne. The son of a knight who had decided to become a merchant. He was older now, with grown children of his own, but he still had many good years left to rule. He could guide you, his daughter, or maybe a future son in law to rule. When he saw Minotaur, he didn't flinch. He smiled, asking how he was, being even kind with his small talk. He offered the monster a position on his court. His mother's blood still ran in his veins, so it was the least your father could do.

After your family moved in, you were amazed by everything in the palace. Especially the monster of a man who lived in one of the smaller dwellings on the palace grounds. You would watch in awe as he roamed the grounds. How could someone so huge be so gentle? He took even great care not to step on the flowers.

You didn't know that he watched you too, wanting to approach you, but afraid of his own strength. So instead, he would creep into the main palace at night, taking peeks of you in your thin nightgowns as you wandered out to the balcony to overlook the garden, or snuck a snack from the kitchen, going back to his own to fist his throbbing cock to the sight of your nipples poking through the thin fabric in the cool night air.

[inkspiredwriting]

The Day of Swapped Powers

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

In the dimly lit basement of the Umbrella Academy, Five Hargreeves and his wife Y/n were elbow-deep in an experimental project. Y/n, with her ability to read minds, and Five, the seasoned time traveler, were working on a device designed to enhance their powers temporarily. It was supposed to be a simple test, but, as with most things involving the Hargreeves family, things quickly spiraled out of control.

"Are you sure this is safe?" Y/n asked, eyeing the array of wires and glowing components skeptically.

Five, ever confident, waved her concern away. "Of course, it’s safe. I’ve triple-checked everything. What could possibly go wrong?"

Those words hung ominously in the air as they activated the device. There was a blinding flash, a strange crackling noise, and then silence.

When the smoke cleared, Y/n and Five blinked at each other in confusion.

"Did it work?" Y/n asked, touching her temples.

Five glanced at his watch, which now displayed an array of random dates and times instead of the usual readings. "I’m not sure. I don’t feel any different."

Just then, Five’s head buzzed with an overwhelming wave of thoughts—Y/n’s thoughts. "Did he forget our anniversary? What if this messes up our abilities permanently? Why does he always have to be so reckless?"

Five’s eyes widened. “Y/n, I can hear your thoughts!”

Y/n stared at him, her eyes widening in shock. “Wait, what? I can’t hear yours anymore!”

Five glanced at the mess of equipment, realization dawning on him. “I think we’ve swapped powers.”

Y/n’s mouth fell open as she processed this. “You mean I can time travel now?”

Five nodded, grimacing. “And I get to hear everyone’s innermost thoughts. Fantastic.”

The next few hours were a comedy of errors as Five and Y/n bumbled through their new abilities.

Y/n stood in the middle of the living room, attempting to blink across the room. She scrunched up her face in concentration, only to find herself standing on top of the coffee table, much to the dismay of Pogo, who was quietly sipping tea.

“Try focusing on where you want to go!” Five shouted from the other side of the room, nursing a headache from the mental chatter of his siblings.

“I’m trying!” Y/n replied, a mix of frustration and determination on her face.

With a deep breath, she managed to blink to the other side of the room—right into a wall. She slid down with a groan, rubbing her nose. “I think I broke something,” she muttered.

Five winced sympathetically, while also struggling to keep Klaus’s incessant mental babble out of his head. "I wonder if I left my sandwich in the fridge or if Luther ate it. Maybe we should have a séance later. Ooh, what’s Five doing?"

Five squeezed his eyes shut. “Klaus, could you please shut up?”

Klaus, lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything!”

“I heard you thinking,” Five snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And I don’t care about your sandwich.”

Klaus blinked. “Whoa, you’re reading my mind now? That’s… actually kind of creepy. Cool, but creepy.”

The rest of the day was no less chaotic. Five, now unable to block out people’s thoughts, found himself avoiding crowded rooms and anyone remotely agitated. He fled from Luther’s worries about him being a bad Leader, Diego’s brooding thoughts about his love life, and Allison’s musings about her career.

Y/n, meanwhile, was discovering that time travel was far more complicated than it looked. She tried jumping back to the living room, only to end up in her parents' bedroom. Her Mother's screams could be heard throughout the neighborhood

She reappeared in the living room, panting and wide-eyed. “You didn’t tell me there were so many things to consider when jumping!”

Five, who had taken refuge in the kitchen with a pair of noise-canceling headphones, looked at her sympathetically. “Welcome to my world.”

By evening, they had gathered in the living room with the rest of the family for dinner. Five was trying to block out the cacophony of thoughts, while Y/n was gingerly sipping on a glass of wine, hoping to steady her nerves.

“Are you okay?” Viktor asked, noticing Five’s pained expression.

“Just fine,” Five lied through gritted teeth. "When will this dinner end? If I hear one more thought about mashed potatoes, I’m going to scream."

Y/n shot him a sympathetic look. “We need to figure out how to reverse this,” she murmured.

“Agreed,” Five said, wincing as Klaus’s thoughts about unicorns and rainbows floated into his mind.

After dinner, they returned to the basement to work on the device. Y/n, with a newfound appreciation for the complexities of time travel, meticulously followed Five’s instructions. Five, on the other hand, tried not to get distracted by Y/n’s focused thoughts and their shared determination to fix the mess.

“Okay, try activating it now,” Five instructed, holding his breath.

Y/n flipped the switch, and the device whirred to life. There was another blinding flash, and then everything went silent.

They blinked at each other again. Five tentatively tried to blink across the room and succeeded without ending up in a wall. Y/n reached out with her mind, relieved that she could hear the thoughts of the people she loved.

“We’re back to normal,” Y/n said, exhaling in relief.

“Thank God,” Five muttered, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know how you deal with all that mental noise.”

Y/n laughed, stepping forward to hug him. “It’s not easy, but now I understand how much you handle with time travel. I’m impressed.”

Five returned the hug, a smile tugging at his lips. “I have a newfound respect for your abilities too.”

The next day, as Five and Y/n lounged on the couch recovering from their ordeal, Klaus sauntered in, a mischievous grin on his face.

“So, how was your day in each other’s shoes?” he teased, plopping down next to them.

Five rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say, never again.”

Y/n chuckled, squeezing Five’s hand. “It was definitely an experience.”

Klaus’s grin widened. “Maybe next time you can swap bodies instead. That would be hilarious.”

Five and Y/n exchanged horrified looks before bursting into laughter. No matter how crazy things got, they knew they could always count on each other, even if their powers were temporarily on the fritz.

As they cuddled together on the couch, exhausted but happy, Five realized that their love and partnership could withstand any challenge—even a day of swapped powers.

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

[wolverigrl]

Hormonal

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: I can't anymore with this man. I'm not quite sure with this part, bit I still you enjoy it!

Warnings: mentions of Body Dysmorphic Order, angsty, a bit of fluff

Enjoy!

Previous Part

---------------------------------------------------

It had been almost two years since Hugh and I started dating, and life had finally settled into a wonderful routine. After the initial whirlwind of being labeled Hollywood's Power Couple, the constant media attention had finally calmed down. But even though the paparazzi had shifted their focus to new drama, we were still very much the couple that people looked up to - whether we liked it or not.

Hugh and I had been filming The Greatest Showman together, and it had been a dream come true for both of us. Playing Charity Barnum alongside him as P.T. Barnum was not only a professional highlight but a personal one. Every day, we got to share scenes, rehearse, and spend quality time together on set.

I'd also gotten close to his kids, Oscar, who was 15, and Ava, who was 10. Oscar was a typical teenager - sometimes distant but warm when it mattered. We bonded over our shared love for movies and music, and I had taken him to a few smaller premieres, which was pretty cool for him. Ava, on the other hand, was full of energy, always dragging me into whatever creative project she had going on. She loved to ask me about the costumes on set, always asking if I could sneak her something "cool" from the wardrobe department. We'd grown really close, and I adored being part of their lives.

Even Hugh's ex-wife, Deborra, had been nothing but gracious. I was worried about how our relationship might affect things with her, but she was kind and supportive from the start. We'd even had a few chats over coffee, which eased any awkwardness. There was no competition or resentment - just a shared love for Hugh and the kids.

But lately, something had shifted inside me. It started with the paparazzi photos. They had caught me in unflattering poses or oversized sweaters, and suddenly, the media was speculating that I might be pregnant.

One morning, while Hugh was making coffee, I decided to make light of the rumors.

I sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling through my phone and looking at the latest article headline: 'Is y/n pregnant? Signs Point to Yes!' I rolled my eyes.

"Hey, babe." said casually, glancing at him as he poured his coffee, "Apparently I'm Pregnant."

Hugh, mid-sip, immediately choked on his coffee, sputtering as he tried to regain his composure. "What?" he coughed out, his eyes wide in shock before a laugh escaped him. "What are you talking about?"

I snickered, showing him the article. "According to the tabloids, we're expecting!"

Hugh’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but then he tilted his head, a hint of concern creeping into his expression. “Well, your period’s still coming, though... right?”

I froze. The smile on my face faltered for a moment, and I realized, in that split second, that my period hadn’t come. It was late. Very late. I hadn’t even thought about it properly until now.

I must’ve looked shocked, because Hugh’s smile faded slightly, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Right?”

I snapped out of it quickly, forcing a nod. “Yeah, of course. It’s just late.”

He stared at me for a moment, searching my face as if trying to figure out if I was serious. Then, with that signature Hugh charm, he broke into a grin, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me close.

"How do they come up with this stuff?" He came over and kissed the top of my head. "You think they'd run out of things to speculate about?"

I laughed along, but something about the rumors hit closer to home than I was letting on. My body had changed recently. Despite working out regularly and eating well, I had gained a little weight. It wasn't much, but enough to make me feel insecure. And with the tabloids dissecting every detail of my appearance, it had started to eat away at me.

Hugh didn't seem to notice - or, if he did, he never mentioned it. He was as loving and affectionate as ever, but for the last few weeks, I had started pulling away from him, especially when things got intimate. I couldn't help but think about my body every time his hands roamed over my skin. I wasn't the woman I was when we first met, and I hated that it was getting to me.

That night, after we'd finished filming, we finally had some quiet, time together. Hugh was in a playful mood, and as we curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in my hand, I could feel him inching closer. His fingers brushed lightly along my thigh, and I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine.

"I miss this, love." he murmured against my ear, his voice deep and sultry. His lips trailed soft kisses along my neck, and I shivered under his touch. His hand slowly slipping under my shirt, inching up toward my skin.

My breath hitched, and for a moment, I wanted to lose myself in him. But as his hand started to lift my shirt, I tensed

"Hugh.." I whispered, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He slightly pulled back, his brow furrowed. "What's wrong?" I swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. "I can't right now."

His frustration was palpable as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. "You've been pulling away from me for weeks, y/n. Every time I try to be close to you, you shut me out."

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not you." I said quietly. "It's me."

Hugh sighed, his expression softening as he reached for my hand. "Then tell me. Talk to me. What's going on?"

I hesitated, my heart racing in my chest. I didn't want to burden him with my insecurities, but I couldn't keep bottling it up either.

"I've gained weight." I admitted in a small voice, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. "I've been working out, eating right, doing everything I'm supposed to, and my body's still changing. I feel.. different. And every time you touch me, l just.. I don't feel like myself."

Hugh's face softened as he pulled me into his arms. "Y/n." he whispered, his voice full of love, "you're beautiful and I don't care if your body changes. I love you, all of you. always will."

Tears slipped down my cheeks, and I buried my face in his chest, grateful for his warmth, his understanding. "I know." I whispered, my voice breaking. "But it's hard. The media the comments, the expectations.. just don't feel like I measure up anymore."

Hugh tilted my chin up, his eyes locked with mine. "You don't have to measure up to anything. You're enough, y/n. You've always been enough."

I nodded, wiping my tears away. His words brought comfort, but the insecurities still lingered in the back of my mind. I knew I had to work through them, but having Hugh by my side made it feel a little less scary.

The next morning I woke up feeling lighter as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I decided to take control of the narrative. If people were going to speculate about my body, I will be the one to set the record straight.

I grabbed my phone and took a deep breath before snapping a photo of myself in my workout clothes. I wasn't hiding anything. No filters, no posing to hide the weight I'd gained. Just me, as I was.

I opened Instagram, uploaded the photo, and typed my caption:

>>y/n instagram: Alright, let's clear some things up. No, I'm not pregnant. Yes, I've gained some weight. And honestly? That's okay. Bodies thange, hormones do their thing and sometimes despite working out and eating right, your body just decides to go through a phase. I've been feeling insecure lately, and I know I'm not alone in that. But here's the thing - I'm still me. I still love my body, and I'm working on being kinder to myself every day. So if anyone else is out there feeling the same way, just know you're not alone. We're all more than our appearances, but we're allowed to love ourselves in every stage we go through.

Now, if you'll excuse me, l'm off to eat a piece of cake. No guilt, just love.😋<<

I hit post, my heart racing as I watched the comments flood in. The outpouring of support was immediate.

>>logan1noir: Thank you for being so real! You're beautiful no matter what!<<

>>celesty634: This made me cry, I've been feeling the same way, and it helps to know I'm not alone❤️<<

>>dcxmrvl22: You are GORGEOUS! Keep shining, girl🫶🏻<<

>>chrisevans: Proud of you!!❤️<<

>>blakelively: How do you look good in everything??<<

>>vancityreynolds: As your humble friend, I demand you to stop setting impossible standards for the rest of us!<<

>>zendaya: QUEEN👑<<

>>thehughjackman: Always proud of you my love❤️<<

Later that evening, Hugh and I hosted a small dinner at our house. Just a few close friends - Blake, Ryan, Zendaya, Zac Efron and some other close cast members were there.

The wine was flowing, and the laughter was contagious. But all day, I had been feeling a little off. I was moody, switching from happy to sad in the span of minutes, and I was feeling unusually hormonal.

Hugh noticed, of course. He always did. And I couldn't help but tease him throughout the evening. Little touches here and there, suggestive whispers when no one was looking. His reactions were priceless, the way his jaw would clench, his eyes darkening with desire.

"You're playing with fire, darling." he whispered in my ear, his breath hot against my skin as we stood by the kitchen island.

I smirked, leaning closer to him, my lips brushing against his ear. "What are you going to do about it?"

Hugh shot me a look that sent a chill down my spine, his hand resting on my lower back, his fingers teasing the hem of my dress. But before he could answer, Ryan came strolling over, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Ryan teased, raising an eyebrow as he eyed the two of us. "You two seem a little preoccupied tonight."

I laughed, pulling away from Hugh slightly, but not before I felt his hand give my waist a playful squeeze. Hugh shook his head, his expression amused but clearly flustered by the interruption.

"Just enjoying the evening." Hugh replied with a chuckle, trying to act casual, though I could see the heat still lingering in his eyes.

Ryan leaned in, lowering his voice dramatically. "I hope you two are careful, though. With all that tension, you might just end up giving those pregnancy rumors something real to work with."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could respond, Blake sauntered over, a knowing smile on her face. "He's right, you know.: she said, her eyes twinkling with humor. "You two have that look - like you're up to something."

Blake's eyes lingered on me a little too long, and I noticed her frown slightly, as if reading something in my expression that I hadn't yet figured out myself.

Later in the evening, after dinner was served and the conversation had flowed naturally from movie projects to family gossip, I excused myself to the kitchen for a moment to gather my thoughts. I was feeling off - moody, emotional, and kind of disconnected.

Blake followed me, her eyes sharp as she leaned against the counter, crossing her arms. "Okay, spill it."

I blinked at her you talking "What are you talking about?"

Blake tilted her head, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "You've been acting... odd tonight. Are you sure you're not pregnant?"

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head. "Blake, no! I'm definitely not pregnant! I even joked with Hugh about that this morning."

She studied me for a moment, her gaze still concerned. "It's just... I've been pregnant three times now, and I can spot the signs. You're giving off all the vibes."

I sighed, leaning against the counter and rubbing my temples. "I don't know.. I mean I've been feeling weird lately, but I just thought it was stress. l've gained some weight, my moods are all over the place, but I don't think I'm pregnant."

Blake softened, placing a hand on my arm. "If you ever wanna talk about it, you know I'm here, right?"

I smiled at her, appreciating her concern. "Thanks, Blake. I think I just need to figure out what's going on with my body."

The night ended on a good note, with everyone laughing and chatting as they left. Ryan, of course, couldn't resist making one last joke. "Don't go making any little Jackmans tonight, okay? Or at least wait until we're gone."

I rolled my eyes, waving them off, "Shut it, Ryan!"

Once the house was quiet and the dishes were done, I finally let out a deep breath, grateful for the silence. But as soon as I sat down on the couch, I felt a familiar cramp in my lower abdomen.

I froze, my eyes widening. "No way!"

I hurried to the bathroom, and sure enough, there it was. My period had arrived. I wasn't pregnant.

Relief washed over me, mixed with an odd sense of joy. After all the speculation and confusion, my body had finally given me an answer.

I returned to the living room, finding Hugh still in the kitchen, cleaning the last wine glasses. He looked up as I entered, and I couldn't help but grin.

"What's with the smile?" he asked, setting the glasses down and coming over to me.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him softly. "You're going to laugh." Hughs brow furrowed slightly. "Why?"

"Well I just got my period!"

Hugh blinked, then laughed softly, pulling me closer.

"Well, that's good to know. l'm glad you're not stressed about it anymore."

"Me too!" I said, leaning into his embrace, feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

He kissed my forehead, his hands resting on my hips as he looked down at me, his voice soft and teasing. "So, since you're really not pregnant and everything's fine.. does that mean we can stop avoiding each other now?"

I looked up at him, biting my lip playfully. "You know I was thinking the same thing."

Hugh's eyes darkened with that similiar heat, and before I knew it, he had me pinned against the kitchen counter, his lips crashing into mine.

His hands roamed over my body, pulling me closer, and this time, I didn't stop him. I didn't feel the need to. I felt confident, desired, and most importantly, loved. As his hands slipped under my shirt, his touch igniting a fire inside me, I let myself give in to him completely.

"Hugh..." I whispered, my voice breathless as his lips trailed down my neck.

He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, his own filled with love and desire. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

I smiled, my heart swelling with affection for the man in front of me.

"I'm not going anywhere."

And with that, we lost ourselves in each other, the weight of the past few weeks melting away as we found comfort and passion in each other's arms. The insecurities, the rumors, the stress - it all disappeared as we reminded each other of what really mattered.

In the next morning, the world felt a little brighter. I've got an overwhelming support after my post and Hugh was by my side through everything. We spent the morning lazily wrapped up in each other, laughing and talking about the future.

Hugh kissed me softly, his hand gently tracing patterns on my skin.

"You know, I love you just the way you are, right? No matter what."

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"I know and I love you too. Always."

Our love had been tested, but we came out stronger than ever. And as I lay there in his arms, I knew that no natter what life threw our way, we would face it together.

---------------------------------------------------

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sylviavf @bethexo07

Next part

[songsofadelaide]

"Hey, Platoon Leader, are you guys trying to be the next Shinomiyas?"

You looked up from your plate of food and gave Kafka an incredulous look from across your shared table. "...What?"

The older officer raised his hands in defence when he caught the strange look on your face. "O-Oh, you know! The Director General and his wife, the former Captain of the Second Division. They were a power couple. I just thought you guys were similar is all..."

"Kafka-san, you better clarify whatever it is you're saying," you chuckled at his statement. "Though I definitely do not mind being compared to the Second Division Captain Shinomiya Hikari, the gods rest her soul. She was brilliant, after all! A shining example to so many young women, myself included. We could have stood to learn a thing or two from her..."

It was a tragedy, you thought. The Director General had always been a serious man, but the unexpected death of his wife made him all the more. And now that Kafka mentioned it, the weight of the idea rested even heavier on your mind. The higher you two rise in the ranks, the more will be expected of you. The more numbered Kaiju appear, the more you will have to set out in their field.

The higher the danger risk, the more skilled personnel will have to be deployed. And seeing how the top brass acknowledged your fiancé's most recent accomplishment— subduing and neutralising Kaiju No. 10— the likelihood of him being assigned even more dangerous missions will only increase—

"You think the Vice Captain would consider growing out a beard too when he becomes Director General? Like Director General Shinomiya. I mean you did mention once that his old man was grizzled and all..." Kafka asked aloud as he helped himself to his lunch.

???

His question was so left-field that you couldn't help the laughter that escaped your stomach. "Pfft— What?! Kafka-san, wh— Hahaha!"

"I-I'm serious, though, Platoon Leader?! A beard would make him even more menacing!"

"Haha! N-No, okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'm sorry for bursting out laughing like that! I-It's just— Soshiro grows stubbles at an alarming rate and he always shaves because he hates being told he'd look like his father with a beard," you said, nearly breathless and tears prickling your eyes. You continued to speak as you calmed down, the seriousness of your expression prompting your lunchmate to pause his meal. "I might not be able to achieve Captain Shinomiya's legendary level of coolness or renown, but I think as long as I continue accomplishing orders, that's good enough for me."

Arriving at your table not long after your fit of laughter were the Vice Captain and another recruit— one who happened to hear your conversation right from the start.

"I—" Kikoru started, her plate slightly trembling in her hands as you met her earnest gaze. "I think you're just as cool as Captain Shinomiya, Platoon Leader! More importantly, I'd like f-for you and Vice Captain Hoshina to always be safe while in the battlefield so you can both live long and fulfilling lives! Th..."

The kind her mother never got to live.

Soshiro took his place next to you as Kafka gestured for them to sit at your shared table.

"Thank you, Kikoru-chan. I am honoured you think so highly of me. If there's anyone feels the loss our amazing Captain Shinomiya the most, that would be you," you said as you reached for the younger girl's shaking fist from across the table, giving her a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. "If Soshiro and I ever do become the Defense Force's next power couple, I can only hope we have a child as talented and dedicated as you are."

"That's assumin' we're actually still a couple," Soshiro quipped. "I could hear you laughin' at Kafka's joke from across the building. Whatever did he tell you that was so funny, sweetness?"

"Kafka-san here was just saying how cool you would look grizzled with a beard all over your handsome, handsome mug," you shot back at him as you gently gripped his chin to force him to face you. "But don't worry, sweetness, I like you just the way you are now."

Kikoru's hands flew to her mouth as her face suddenly flushed. H-How lovey-dovey of them!

"You're already plenty menacing with that sly look of yours," you continued, before slapping the table so hard that it surprised both Kafka and Kikoru, who were staring in awe at just how affectionate their superiors were being. "Now eat, eat, eat up, our little fledgelings! Eating right, getting enough sleep, and exercising are key to living long! Let's not miss out on even one of those!"

Soshiro smiled as you ate your fill along with your favourite new recruits, though he'd never hear you say that out loud. Being a power couple never appealed to him because all that mattered to him were saving lives and staying alive— to be able to live in the future you were all so earnestly fighting for.

I suppose having someone to proudly stand next to isn't such a bad idea.

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

[giuliettagaltieri]

A Hundred Sleepless Nights

Pairing: Husband!Coriolanus Snow x Wife!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Beloved

Warning: perversion, explicit smut, unprotected sex, sexual euphoria

Word Count: 3988

5 of 7

Coriolanus thinks he might have made a mistake in choosing your honeymoon destination.

Mrs. Plinth apparently owns a private beach down in the south. She insisted that you spend your honeymoon there as it was more private.

Private.

A scowl made it to Coriolanus’ face the moment you arrived in the secluded beach town. He was still in his suit and you were still in your wedding dress.  Anybody with eyes can see that you were just married.  But the locals knew no shame.

The men, their skin bronze from being on the coast, fit from constantly moving, their faces sculpted manliness. And they seem to have taken a liking to you.

“May I help you with that, Miss?” A man asks you for the third time that night, referring to the handbag you carried. It has your personal effects, you would not trust anyone with it.

“That would not be necessary.” Coriolanus quips, his arm circling around your waist.  The man straightens up and looks Coriolanus up and down before he grins

“Her other baggage, then? You won’t be able to carry them all.”

Coriolanus scoffs and you politely smile at the man. You know Coriolanus is more than capable of lifting baggage but there is too much of it, it seems unreasonable to make your husband carry them all.

“Oh, we have more than enough help. Thank you.” You say sweetly and as if on cue, peacekeepers and porters appear to start putting your bags in the yacht.

The man frowns, his mind whirring before he comes to a realization.

“You’re those politicians who just got married.”

Coriolanus looks at him, his eyes now sharp.

“Does the Capitol news not reach this part of Panem?” He raises a brow.

The man chuckles as he rubs his stubble. “Nah, just don’t watch any of that bullshit.”

“You watch your words very carefully.” Coriolanus grins, the iciness in his tone not matching his charming face. “The Capitol is not very kind to those who call our affairs ‘bullshit’.”

You look at the man with much fascination. You have to commend how he stands his ground, now sizing Coriolanus up, but his lax posture was breaking apart on the surface. Ignorance really has a feeble power to it.

Despite the burliness of this person, you are not too worried about Coriolanus as he had his fair share of training. And the peacekeepers are just waiting for the man to cross that fine intangible line, their postures tight and ready to spring.

“Now, if you’ll excuse us. My wife and I have other places to be.”  Coriolanus leads you to the yacht where your luggage has been placed.

“The impudence of some people.”  Coriolanus spits.  “He does not even recognize the President.”

“I will talk to the mayor.” You attempt to soothe him but he clicks his tongue.

His jaw tightens before he takes a deep breath. “We agreed not to work while we are on our honeymoon.” He says but you can see how excruciating it was for him to say.

You grimace before breaking to a smile.

“If you say so, my love.”

You glance behind you and see the man still staring at you. You turn away when he sends you a boyish smile and a wink.

Coriolanus grunts when you cling to his arm tightly.

“Hurry, Corio.”

He straightens his back and slows his pace. “I see no purpose in rushing.” He’s not running away from anything.

It makes you roll your eyes but you match his pace anyways.  You enjoy the night stroll, the cool breeze refreshing your skin that is trapped in your wedding gown. You wanted to get out of it the moment the reception ended but Grandma’am almost dropped her turban when you mentioned a change of clothing.

Perhaps it was an old Panem tradition but she said only the groom must free you of your bridal gown.

Again with the superstitions but Coriolanus and you both decided you’d listen. A way to apologize after that stunt you pulled in the middle of the reception.  Coriolanus tightens his hold around your waist as you board the yacht.

“I’m hungry.” You tell him. 

He nods. “So am I.”

With the pressure of the ceremony and reception, you did not get to enjoy the food served despite them being of the finest qualities.

“I’d love to have that filet mignon again.”  You sigh as you sit on a sofa.  Coriolanus watches you with a smile.  Your face was full of disappointment and you looked adorable as your poofy gown swallowed you. “And posca.”

“Mhh, agreed.”  He sauntered over to the glass windows. Watching how the hydrofoil cuts the waters below.  The ruffling from your gown makes Corio turn to look at you once more.

You have occupied the entire sofa, now lying on your back as you stared into the tall ceiling. Your eyes have glazed over and he can see how your fingers picked at your gown.

“Tell me what you are thinking.”

Sighing, you close your eyes. He’s always so commanding.

“Nothing.”

He walks over to sit on the armrest. You look up to meet his glacial eyes with your own.

“There is definitely something in there, wife.”

Wife

You bite your bottom lip to contain your smile. Coriolanus raises a brow, his lips quirked up.

“Wife?”

You giggle as you reach up to pinch him but he easily swats your hand away.

“Are you regressing to your teenage self?” He pulls you up and slots himself under you so you are sitting on his lap.

“No.” You answer quickly. Too quickly.

You play with your ring as he watches you, still waiting for you to talk.

“I will hold you the entire night if you refuse to tell me.”

You shrug.  “I’m comfortable.”  His nimble fingers slip to your waist and your breath hitches.

“Yeah?”

You nod hastily.

“Tell me what is going on in that head of yours.”  He whispers against the shell of your ear, sending a shiver to crawl up your spine.

“Corio!”

“Yes?” He flashes you that charming smile again.

“Stop it.” You say, your cheeks are now bubbling.

He tilts his head to the side.  He is fooling nobody with this pretense.

You try to get off but he keeps you in place with a hand.  He is looking around the room now, acting nonchalant to your struggle.  He looks at you with his face passive and you eventually settle.

“Stop making me flustered.”  You raise a finger at him and he grins lazily at you.  The glint of those rather sharp looking canines had you retreating your finger back.

He sets a steady bounce of his leg, jostling you and you click your tongue at him.  “What are you doing?” You grab at his coat to steady yourself.

“Trying to calm your tantrum.”

“I am not a child.” 

His eyes return to the carpeted floor and now just leans back on the sofa.  “I can see that.” You ignore how his eyes roam to your bosom.

“If you must really know, I was thinking of having a new signature.”

A perfect blonde brow was raised. “Signature.”

“I want to keep my maiden name in it but I also wanted to add yours.”

“Ours.”

“Ours.” You echo as you smile at him meekly.

“You are a Snow now.” He reminds you sternly and your cheeks warm up as you nod.

“I know that, Corio.”  You shift in his lap and he rubs your waist.

The air shifts, making it difficult for you to keep still. 

A knock pulls your attention to the door.

“Mister and Missus Snow, we have arrived.”

Coriolanus looks at you and raises both brows briefly as if making a point.

You roll your eyes and get off, he lets you this time.

The private beach.  Well, more like a private island.  It was like how every beach shown in brochures is.

The staff is already waiting by the docks, standing tall and in uniformed clothing.

“Don’t worry, Missus Snow.  The staff will be here only until seven in the evening.”  The head butler tells you as he escorts you and your husband off the yacht.

“The security?”  Coriolanus looks around the island, taking in every face that was present.

The butler nods, a proud smile on his lips.

“Stationed just in this dock and on the ocean.”

You would love to have privacy but not if it meant compromising you and your husband’s safety.

“Peacekeepers are also stationed on the coast.”  The head butler reassures you.  “This island is also being covered by the most recent security offered by District 3.  We have sonars covering the waters.  There is no need to be uneasy.”

It was these kinds of over the top operations that reminds you that it is the President you have married.  His security can easily topple the peace that the retired President Ravinstill tried so hard to maintain.

“The staff will come to prepare your meals and leave after the dishes are cleaned up.  The day after tomorrow, the cleaning crew will take care of the linens and your laundry.”  The staff bows at you as you pass by them.  “Should you need something else.  We are a call away.  We are stationed in the ocean to respond right away to your every need.”

You share a look with Coriolanus.  It was a bit overkill, you both can agree.  But nothing less for the Presidential couple.

“Food is being prepared right at this moment.”  The head butler continues.

The villa is nice and airy.  Spacious and a perfect place to relax in.  And the smell of food, oh it is divine.

“The gods heard you.”  Coriolanus jests and you scan the table to see a glistening filet mignon.  Coriolanus pulls a chair for you and you thank him.  The head butler pours you a glass of posca and you smile gratefully.

Coriolanus and you eat your dinner quietly.  Giving compliments to the chefs who are standing in anticipation behind you.  You are generous in your praise, just to help in easing their anxiety.

You bid them goodbye as they all board a boat to take their leave.

When they are a considerable distance away, you and Coriolanus are able to drop the pretense. 

“Ugh.”  You groan as you grip your gown up to head inside the villa.  “I refuse to see anybody for twenty-four hours straight.”

Coriolanus follows after you, his hands clasped behind his back in a relaxed manner.  “Does that include me?”

You look at him briefly.  “What a stupid question.”  You link your arms to his and he glances at the clam expression on your face.

Now that he is standing so close, he notices just how much your childhood features remained in your face.  Your eyes and lips stayed the same.

“There was this one time I found you under the tables during a banquet held by our fathers.”  Coriolanus tells you and you don’t look up to him.  “I accidentally kicked you.”

You only hum to acknowledge him.

“I slipped under the tablecloth and joined you.”  He recalls.  “And you stole my first kiss.”

“Corio, stop talking.”  You groan.

“You told me you will be my wife.”

You purse your lips, not knowing how to respond.  

Sighing, you finally say,  “You were distraught.”  

“I was five.”

“In the Academy.  You hated me.”

“I envied you.”

Coriolanus opens the door and lets you pass first.  You continue to walk until you find the bedroom and he follows suit.

“Is that why you preferred Clemensia Dovecote’s company?”  You say sharply and Coriolanus looks at you as he leans on the vanity to undo his coat.

“She was pretty.  A nice accessory.”

You walk over to him, throwing your arms on his shoulders as you look deeply into his eyes.

“You think she’s pretty?”

He shakes his head.  “Not anymore.  She’s more of a snake than a dove now.”

“But you thought she was pretty.”

Coriolanus places a hand on your waist to steady you.

“That was because I did not want to admit my attraction to you.”

You pull away, doe eyes looking up at him meekly as your brows raise hopefully.  “You were attracted to me?”

“I am attracted to you.  How could I not be when everything about you tells the entire Capitol that you are mine?”

With utmost shyness, you focus your attention on his tie, not quite able to meet his eyes.  “You didn’t care.”

“The rosettes you used to wear in your hair were pretty.”  He smiles as he tucks your hair to the side.  “And so were the rosette patterns on the lace of your panties.”

Your movements have gone still.  Your eyes wide as you feel like a bucket of ice was dumped on your head.  Your eyes are frantic as you look up at him.  His face was passive, not betraying him.

“You think you were sneaky?”  He taunts as he starts to pull at your dress.  “You thought I would not know about your naughty little secrets?”

You gasp when he rips a stitch of your dress as he tugs it.

“Corio.”  You say breathlessly.  “How did you-”

“That initiation we had in our first year.”  He says gruffly as he pulls your gown once more until your breasts come spilling out.  “You were to exit the academy with just your skirts and blouse.”

Your face flushes.  “Y-you saw?”

“Everybody did.”  He tells you and you bury your face in his chest.  “It worked in my favor.  No boys came after you in the Academy.”

You cursed the wind that day.

Coriolanus pulls your gown and his fingers hook on the dainty fabric that cupped your innocence.

You place your hands on his shoulders as he tugs them down.  You cover your face as he gets the fabric off.

“Oh, will you look at that?”  He chuckles as he examines the lacy fabric.  “Still adorned with rosettes.”  He twists the fabric in his long fingers and you swallow as your throat has gone dried up at the sight.  You grab his arm when he brings it up his nose.  He looks at you sternly.  “Smells like roses too and feminine musk.”

You have had enough.  After securing your gown, you turn your back to him and head to the closet, muttering angrily but he chases after you and pulls you to the lounge instead.

“You are a…a sick man!”  You say angrily as you pull away.

“If I am sick, then so are you for liking it.”  He laughs as he finishes his work with your gown until your torso is bare but he never quite got it off you just yet.  “Come here, my love.”  He sits on a plush chair and beckons you by patting his thighs.

You attempt to sit sideways but he clicks his tongue and with much reluctance, you straddle him instead.

He keeps his eyes on you as he holds your hips, his fingers digging in the large poof of your gown.

“You look so bridal.”  He says.  “I’d want nothing else but to ruin you while you still have the dress on.”  Coriolanus noses your cheek. 

“You’d let me, won’t you?”  He asks in a deeper voice, making you nod your head with your eyes closed and lip caught between your teeth.

He chuckles at your startled gasp as he prodded at your petals.  His fingers spread to your lips, creating a wet noise that had you wrapping your arms around his neck once more as you hid away.

“She’s wet.” 

You buck your hips against his when his thumb presses flat on your pearl.

“You like it?”  He smiles against your hair and you hum.  “Words, darling.”

“I do, Corio.”  You murmur against his chest.  “More please.” 

He swallows thickly as he lets a finger slip between your folds and he winces lightly when you bite his shoulder.  His finger was met with resistance but he pushed it further, willing you to relax.

“There you go.”  He says as you start to grind against his hand.  You throw your head back as your hands grip his shoulders.

“Mmh!”  You mewl, your eyebrows pinched as hot puffs of air escape your lips that have bloated after being nibbled.  “F-feels sooo good!”

Coriolanus watches your face as you move above him, his fingers dripping with your sweet honey.

The thickness of his fingers nudged at your quivering walls, it had soft sighs spilling from your lips.  He curls his fingers upward and you melt as it massages the sweet spot inside you.

You suddenly gasp, bowing your head as your hands grasp at his hair.  “C-Corio…I’m-…Oh!”

Your body seizes up as you pull him close, your walls pulsating around his fingers as you cum.  Your honey stains your thighs and he revels at the look on your face.

Coriolanus carries you to your bed as he dips his head to kiss you.  You are mewling his name through the kiss as his fingers keep massaging your walls.  He gently slips his fingers out of you, the sensation most frustrating.

He slips out of his coat and you admire him for a while before trying to tug your gown off but he glares at you and your hands retreat from doing it.  The gown is soon tugged from you and you find yourself covering your feminine parts as his eyes roam around your body. 

Warm rough hands cup under your knee to part your legs further.  You whine in embarrassment and you make an attempt to pull your knees together.  Still so shy from him seeing your body.

“Don’t.”  He warns and your bones turn weak, you feel shameful with how much your body responds to him.

“I’m sorry.”  You say meekly.

Both of you are thrumming in anticipation as he unbuckles his pants and you wait with bated breath as he frees himself.

Coriolanus grunts as he grips his cock, pumping until you feel a warm dribble land on your stomach.

You watch his face contort with concentration as he guides his leaking tip on your entrance and you bite back a moan as the tip catches, the head slotting itself between your petals.

“If you hold back on your sounds, I would get upset.”  He says pointedly and you nod at him, your hand running on his arm to soothe him and to get him to hurry.

Coriolanus hooks your legs over his arms, he holds your waist as he slips himself inside you.

Your pained gasp had him gritting his teeth. 

“Just a bit more, darling.”

But that was a lie.  He was barely in.

Your nails are biting at his arms, forming red angry crescent moons.

“Almost there.”  He groans and you let out a choked sob, feeling the burn from the tight stretch.

Coriolanus inhales sharply as your tightness keeps him from filling you.  He places your legs back on the mattress and he clicks his tongue at how your walls reject his size.  He glances at your face before he tongues his cheek.

“I’m sorry, my love.” 

You don’t get to ask why when he crawls on top of you, his corded arms slipping under you so he can grip your shoulders.  He pulls back slightly and your juices, now painted pink with the mixture of your broken innocence, slips to coat your inner thighs.

Coriolanus murmurs apologies on your hair and makes shallow thrusts, your hands gripping his nape with the conflict of pleasure and pain, making you wetter and wetter.  And in one full thrust, he sheaths himself.

Your eyes shot open as you clawed on his back, feeling yourself tipping before you came crashing down.  Your flower clenches as it pulses around him, your slick overflowing with his tip kissing your cervix.

You are making noises that Coriolanus never thought you were capable of.  Your words were more of like babbles as wet sobs spilled from your lips.

The sight of you, so debauched, makes Coriolanus laugh.  “You come from just being stuffed full?”

Your glare up at him but your tongue is still unable to form words as pleasure makes tears leak from your eyes.

“Yeah, feels good, doesn’t it?”  He chuckles while he rocks his hips against yours.

He watches with amusement at how you throw your head back when he pounds on you.  He can see your pulse jumping and he wonders if you know how vulnerable you are right now.  He grazes his teeth on the thinness of your skin and to his surprise, you mewl wantonly, only tightening around him.

“Naughty girl.”  He chuckles but you look at him, offended.

“I’m not.”

He kisses your pouting lips.  “Hm?”

You shake your head.  “I’m not.”

“You’re not naughty?”  He snickers and you nod.  You are acting no different to a drunk.  “That’s right.  You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?”

Coriolanus wonders if the look you are giving him are what they say heart eyes are.  

He realized that he feels most powerful when he is on top of you and making you feel good. 

Your feet absentmindedly slide to caress his leg and he smiles at your adorable display of affection.

Nobody would believe the sight of you right now.

So docile, so submissive.

The damp fabric under you was uncomfortable and it was too warm, but such tiny discomforts flew over your head when Coriolanus was making you feel too good.

Your big teary eyes look at him as your brows curl in pleasure, you were too adorable he had to kiss you.

You break the kiss with a whine, your heels digging on the mattress as your back arches off the bed.

Coriolanus understood and fucked into you rougher, trying to keep a steady pace but it was getting harder and harder for him to do when your soft wet walls rub against his sensitive cock.

“Corio, Corio please!”  You beg him as your hands cupped his face in desperation.

He seethes through gritted teeth, his hands leaving a red print on your shoulders as he crushed you with his weight.  You were sobbing, just needing him all to yourself.

And you cum once more.  You are lost as every coil in your body snaps.  You are unraveling beneath him and Coriolanus grunts, chasing his own high and he slots the tip of his manhood deep inside you and spills his seed.

You wince at the warm spurts of his spend and you pull him to share another kiss.

Coriolanus breathed heavily against your lips.  He felt invincible yet ready to go down on his knees for you.  No wonder why so many empires collapsed for women.  He would gladly die if you asked him to at this moment.

Your sob pulls him from his thoughts and looks at you with concern.

Coriolanus tucks your damp hair to the side as he kisses your cheek.  “What’s wrong, sweetheart?  Did I go too rough?”

You shake your head as you pull him closer, your legs crossing over his posterior, burying him deeper inside you, making him groan, the tendons on his arms popping in an attempt to control himself.

“I love you.  I love you, Corio.  It felt so good.”

He chuckles at your words and he nods, dipping low to kiss your lips once more.  “I love you too.”  He looks deep into your eyes and starts moving his hips once more, determined to make love to you again.

You give him a tired smile but you encourage him by tracing his nape sensually with your manicured nails.

You share a look of pure fondness, so in love and lost in pleasure.

It was then you realized that you need nothing else but each other and you would do everything to protect this love you found.

Quest for Happiness

[colourstreakgryffin]

*holds hands out for alms*

Reincarnation content where wife!s/o of Muzan who cared and loved him during his sickly heian days (who died either natural causes / accident, and he didn't get to appreciate her enough and is kind of an a-hole at that time) reborn as a hashira? And he stumbles upon her?

*coughs aggressively* i need bittersweet pining Muzan to cure my desperation

Wooowwww! I like this idea so much! This is actually very cool and I absolutely love this! Once again, thank you all for this incredible concepts! Muzan is quite the common powerhouse for this blog so let’s give him more attention

Kibutsuji Muzan- Loop-Around

Muzan knows those eyes too well… those beautiful, colourful eyes on a woman so pretty and loving. The flashbacks, the memories, the tragedy and the anger he feels over his past. Over his own failure and his own mistakes over what he did during Heian Era, during his life as a human. Those awful, painful drawn-out days where all he could do was sit in a bed and watch people come in and out of his room

The person who arrived the most was his assigned wife, Dokusha. A kind, patient, sophisticated woman of wealth, and she always spent so much time to take care of and love Muzan, all whilst looking around for the right medicine to cure his terminal illness. Muzan, during this time, couldn’t care less for that woman. She was just a useful tool to make him comfortable, feel validated and save his life but through the weeks, as he grew even weaker, he got real tired of waiting to be rescued by so many incompetents.

When he gotten given a type of medicine that worked, that odd concoction from a rather viable doctor you had bought in for Muzan, and when it shaped him into the first ever demon. He could finally walk for the first time in his life

And he walked out of that room… in perfect health, with razor sharp fangs, with a blood-thirst for human flesh, with his muscles clenching and strong. However, as he explored. He ended up finding something else as tragic as what he caused to his rescuer. His assigned wife mauled to death by wild Ussuri Brown bears in the forest, all whilst clearly trying to find absolutely any medicinal herbs that could possibly do anything to save Muzan

Muzan never really appreciated nor cared for Dokusha, he didn’t see her as much of a person and whilst he looked at the mangled body of that woman… he felt… almost nothing. It wasn’t disgust but it also wasn’t anger, it was just�� emptiness and after that day. He suspected he would never see a human woman named Dokusha ever again, foolishly unaware of the fact he truly did love Dokusha and truly did feel a deep pit of misery-fuelled fury at her death. She did so much for him and he did nothing for her

Even after learning the fatal accident that caused her death was entirely centred around trying to recover Muzan from his birth sickness

Currently as the high and mighty Demon King, the first ever Demon in existence. Kibutsuji Muzan, has been confronted by the newest Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in Asakusa, the Tashio Era when walking back to his ‘family’, and she has the eyes and the voice of his real wife. 10,000 years after her death, she’s back in a entirely new form and just knowing his dead wife has been reincarnated as his moral enemy is making Muzan’s undead heart throb in pain and outrage. Why does he feel this way looking into this Hashira’s eyes?

10,000 years after her death and now, Muzan has finally realised he has missed his wife so bad that he has grown desperate to see her again. He never noticed it, he always thought about locating the Blue Spider Lily and spreading over his ‘gift’ of demonicism around to every human he can find to gain the power he desires, to concur the Sun. Now, he notices how aggressive he is over the idea of love and how he is so repulsed by the six other wives he has pretended to marry throughout his life

Muzan stayed silent, blood red slit-pupiled eyes glaring at his reborn Hashira wife, taking in her features to every corner and constantly seeing glimpses and flashes of her original self… she’s so beautiful and he didn’t even notice how beautiful Dokusha actually was. How she didn’t deserve to die for his sake, if he could, he’d have ordered Dokusha to stay with him when she left upon calling that doctor in, as to save her life so then, he could have turned her into an demon too

Made her his Queen of Demons but no… he failed and now, he is beyond bittersweet. Pining, angry at his own blindness, upset he let the only woman who actually genuinely cared about him go… if he could reverse time, he would

Muzan, now, cannot bring himself to be the cause of his wife’s death once more… he can’t. He’ll just have to figure out another way to get her back, all without hurting her so before Dokusha could even think to begin attacking the Demon King with all the strength she has within that branded Nichirin Katana. Muzan fades away into the pitch black night, his glowing red eyes providing the only semblance of light for him when he retreats from that Hashira and those magnificent eyes, disappearing several streets down from her in a way she can’t track him down

He loves her

He knows he loves his wife and he can’t believe he had to wait for 10,000 years to recognise the mere fact that he did love Dokusha. Even if he didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend, her optimistic compassionate nature and the right to admire that personality was drowned out by Muzan’s own bitterness and desire to remain alive. He messed up royally with the first Dokusha, he won’t mess up with the second Dokusha

And he will make her his queen… even if it includes spending hours following the Ice Hashira around. He’ll do it and he already has a plan devised in his mind. He won’t hesitate to find some method to transform into a powerful immortal being like himself

All because he wants you back so bad

[wileycap]

PALPATINE: My dear boy. The only thing that we are discussing right now is what you want.

ANAKIN: Hm. Okay, world peace for Padmé, a Best Jedi mug for Obi-Wan - no, that's not me being bitchy, he literally will not accept a bigger gift...

PALPATINE: Yes, you shall have it all. Just -

ANAKIN: Oh, I'm not done. A billion... no, you know what, a trillion credits for Ahsoka, rights for the clones plus backpay and overtime for the war, full rights to their own genetic code, a special vode-only tribune that will investigate Kaminoans and natborn officers for sentient rights violations...

PALPATINE:

ANAKIN: ... slavery is to be abolished across the galaxy, I and any vode who want to join me will be sanctioned by the Republic to hunt down slavers, starting with Tatooine, hair cream for Windu - okay, that one is me being bitchy - and, well, I guess I'd want a fleet of the absolute best ships for me. As a treat.

PALPATINE: I see. Are you done?

ANAKIN: I guess. How soon can you deliver?

PALPATINE: Well. As it stands... it might... take some time.

ANAKIN: That's cool. You can get all the legal stuff done tomorrow, just call in a special session of the Senate, but I get that commissioning a fleet will take some time. I didn't even give you a list of models or anything.

PALPATINE: ... yes. I can't help but to think that you're disregarding your wife's safety here.

ANAKIN: Oh, no. I'm being smart.

PALPATINE: You are?

ANAKIN: Yup. Padmé is a completely healthy woman. Her pregnancy is very low risk. So, if she's going to die in childbirth, it's got to have something to do with the war, right? If we end the war, there's no danger to Padmé.

PALPATINE: Have you forgotten what I told you about Darth Plagueis the Wise?

ANAKIN: No, but if I use Sith Magic to save her, she's probably going to turn into a zombie or something. Trust me, Chancellor, I've seen it before.

PALPATINE: I'm afraid to ask, but where have you seen zombies?

ANAKIN: Eh, you can check my mission reports. Anyways, if you just hand me your credit chit, I can get to buying Obi-Wan that mug, giving Ahsoka the trillion and all that.

PALPATINE: Well, I...

ANAKIN: And if you don't want to go through with this, I'm definitely going to murder you right now. You being a Sith Lord and all that.

PALPATINE: Oh.

ANAKIN: Yeah.

PALPATINE: Well, here's my credit chit.

ANAKIN: Thanks, Sheev! Just one more question. What are you getting out of this?

PALPATINE: ... I'm going to declare myself Emperor and bring about the age of the Sith.

ANAKIN: Okay, that's cool.

PALPATINE: It... is?

ANAKIN: Sure. I mean, you basically are an emperor already, and we have freedom of religion. Just make sure that your Empire is strictly democratic, or else Padmé's going to be mad at me.

PALPATINE: I... what? The purpose of an Empire is to do away with democracy! Cut away the rot of bureaucracy!

ANAKIN: Chancellor, do you remember the conversation we had just now about me murdering you?

PALPATINE: Yes, but you hate the Republic too!

ANAKIN: I know, but work stuff can't come between me and Padmé. One of the rules of a successful marriage. Anyways, get it done. I gotta go buy a mug and some hair cream.

-------------------------------

BREAKING NEWS!

PEACE! Supreme Chancellor / Emperor-Elect Sheev Palpatine has announced the immediate cessation of hostilities between the Republic and the CIS along with a slew of other groundbreaking proposals. The Supreme Chancellor stated that with the death of General Grievous...

The Coruscant Herald spoke with Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, also known as the Negotiator.

"I've got this mug." said Master Kenobi, before launching into a protracted rant about the state of our democracy.

"I got back from Utapau, and Anakin tells me that he 'kind of' turned to the Dark Side. How do you 'kind of' turn? But now we have galactic peace. But we also have an Emperor. Well, in three days we will have an Emperor. But the Emperor is going to have less power than the Supreme Chancellor has right now, and they're the same person. Not to mention that he's the Sith. My entire life has turned into a philosophical nightmare on whether the ends justify the means, and it's all being personified by this blasted mug." ...

Senator Padmé Amidala of Naboo had a brief conversation with the Herald.

"Well, I think of it like a retirement present. A lifetime achievement award. He is an older man, and no doubt he'll abdicate in due time. This will be an interesting footnote in the history of the Republic." ...

Spokesbeing for the Shmi Skywalker Foundation, Anakin Skywalker spoke at length with our reporter.

"Well, we at the Shmi Skywalker Foundation offer only two things: freedom to slaves and death to slavers. And sometimes imprisonment to slavers, because Obi-Wan and Padmé were pretty adamant about that. And also financial aid, legal aid, housing, therapy, et cetera. For the freed people. So I guess we offer more than two things, but they're all good things."

"Sheev? Sheev is great. A nice old man. I think he's going to abdicate in, oh, three years or so? [Editor's Note: Transcript is garbled due to the Emperor-Elect coughing suddenly.] [...Yo]u need a glass of water, Sheev? Get him - yeah, one of you red guys, get him a glass of water. You're not a young man anymore, Sheev. Yeah, I think he'll abdicate within three years."

Emperor-Elect Sheev Palpatine declined to comment at this time.

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay okay. I saw you write “lesbian Janet Drake AU” AND I HAD A THOUGHT

Normally I’m team ‘Janet Drake was always a Drake and Jack took her last name’ BUT

I think it would be really cool if in this AU

Janet is a power hungry woman (perfectly normal) so she marries new money Jack Drake to get ahead in life.

She has a kid to secure the Drake legacy (hello baby Timmy)

And then she hires someone to off Jack!!!

The wonderful assassin lady she hired said that she’d do it for free (first assassin step mom, pick your favorite villainous woman), thus opening the door for baby Timmy to start picking up skills from his mom’s villainous girls friend of the week

So yeah, origin story of how we got Jack Drake out of lesbian Janet’s life and opened the door for many a morally grey/black step moms for Timmy to learn “life skills” from

I fucking love this so much, my lords.

In this AU specifically, Jack is an asshole rich guy who viewed Janet (smart, cold, calculative, charming Janet) as a trophy wife.

Janet was fine with this. She's not a good person (Jack was an asshole, but not overall a bad person. Killing Jack was a wee bit fucked up, but fuck yeah. Good for her), but she is a good mom. She loves her kid and does everything she can for him. She has her own life outside of being a mom (which is healthy), but her kid does come first.

Tim gets many many stepmoms.

The stepmoms are kind of charmed by Janet's morally grey BAMF MILF vibes