#CABBAGE MAN YOU'RE NOT HELPING

[muffinlance]

Opening my old story notes and finding "The Crossroads of Fuck You" as a plot arc is DELIGHTFUL, let me tell you

Anyway outlining for the next Dark Night in Ba Sing Se is going, I've fleshed out a rough outline for the entire series

Except for the part I'm actually supposed to be writing

why brain why

[a-hazbin-reader]

Hello, happy day, first of all. Secondly, I would like to see how Alastor would give the talk to his children (the talk about how babies are made) or what would happen if his children asked him how babies are made.

😳

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

✅️Parental

TW: Shenanigans!!

Description: ☝️⬆️

His kids don't really even think about where they came from, they just know that they come from their mother and father

They don't really think about how they came to be until...their mom is suddenly pregnant again

Alastor sits down the kids, holding the youngest little girl in his lap while you hold the twins at your sides

They can't help but notice the happy look you're sharing with your husband, knowing that you two are about to announce something good

Alastor adjusts the toddler in his lap and gives his twins a sharp grin, obviously unable to contain himself

"Now, my little ones~ Do you remember how you've been asking for another sibling?"

You can't help but laugh as the twins look at each in confusion then look up at their father, the little girl shaking her head

"No-"

"Well, your mother and I have good news! Due to sheer luck and absolute carelessness, your mother has managed to spawn another baby!"

You can't help but gawk at your husband, he's trying to put all the blame on you for getting pregnant!?

You don't even get a chance to speak before your husband is kissing you, chuckling at the pout on your face

"That's not entirely true, but yes, we're having another baby."

Your twins lean on you and rub their cheeks against you, their little tails wagging in excitement

The youngest girl is still too young to understand, but she copies her siblings anyways, bleating and wiggling her tail to the best of her ability

It's a sweet moment that you wish you could take a photo of but you're too busy hugging your babies and snuggling up to your husband

It's not until later that night that it becomes a problem as Alastor is putting the twins to bed and you stand in the doorway to watch

He tucks them in and kisses their foreheads before wishing them goodnight, just about to turn out the light when it happens

"Papa, where do babies come from?"

The look on Alastor's face is enough to make you laugh, hiding it behind your hand as your husband freezes in place before regaining his composure

"Why! From mommies and daddies of course! Just like your mother and I!"

The little boy sits up fully, his sister soon following after as they give him an annoyed look

"Yeah but HOW did you make us?"

The rational part of Alastor's brain tells him that he should just tell them the truth and be done with it

But when he looks at his twin's innocent faces staring up at him expectantly...he absolutely fumbles it

Alastor lies lies and LIES through his teeth, every baby myth known to man comes to his mind as he weaves some crazy tale of how babies come to be

The stork, cabbage patches, water sprites and berry bushes-ANYTHING BUT THE TRUTH

You have to leave because you can't stop laughing at your husband, barely calming down before erupting into laughter again when Alastor climbs into bed with you

"Don't laugh..! What was I supposed to say?!"

He lets out a pathetic bleat and hugs you to him tightly, rubbing your stomach in an attempt to soothe himself

"Oh I don't know...maybe just a PG version of the truth?"

You look back at your husband to see the shocked look on his face, pulling away to see if you're being serious

"Are you telling me you could look them in the eyes and tell them what we do in bed?"

You start to get up, laughing at him

"I can go do it right now if you want-"

His arms suddenly reach out and grab you, careful of your stomach even though you're not showing yet

"NO!"

He's dragging you back into bed and rolling on top of you to keep you from getting up, fixing you the most pitiful puppy eyes you've seen yet

"Please don't...let them stay innocent..."

You can't help but roll your eyes and pet his head, leaning in to kiss his forehead before laying back

"Oh, you sappy man of mine...~ I won't...~"

You keep your promise and don't tell your twins the truth, but it's all for nothing because Angel is the one who tells them

To be fair, he didn't realize it was such a big deal at the time, he just wanted to correct some misinformation

Angel was eating with the twins, holding the littlest girl in his lap while he half listened to the older two ramble on about the new baby

"So you squirts excited for another baby in the house?"

The little boy hums in thought as he munches on his snack, ears flopping as he bounces in his seat

"Yeah but I wanna know when we'll see the stork deliver them!"

"I thought the baby was gonna come out of a cabbage?"

"What about the berry bush?"

This is where Angel might've messed up...

"What!? Don't tell me your parents fed you some lame story about where babies come from! Listen, you two most certainly didn't come from no bird and this little cutie right here?"

Angel holds up the baby girl, the toddler happily kicking her feet in the air

"Didn't come from a cabbage or nothin'! You all came from your mom because your parents had sex!"

"...what is sex?"

Now Angel sees where he fucked up, sucking in a breath before looking around the room nervously

"Okay, I'll tell you, but you guys better not tell your father I told you this!"

Angel leans in and starts whispering, the twins hanging onto his every word and forgetting their snacks

Alastor is hugging you as you sit in his lap, taking the moment alone to kiss and snuggle you, gently caressing your slight baby bump

When suddenly your little girl comes running in and points at Alastor accusingly, her brother rushing in not long after

"Papa, you lied!! You had SEX!"

You have to cling to your husband suddenly as he jumps up, looking shocked and gasping dramatically

"I did NOT! Who taught you such a word?"

The little boy giggles and runs out of the room, his sister chasing after him as they chant Angel's name

"Angel did~!"

"You little brats! You promised not to tell!"

It's all you can do not to laugh, burying your face in Alastor's shoulder as he sputters out nonsense about his children and their innocence

"Oh honey~ It's not that bad, they were bound to find out anyways..! And Angel isn't the worst person to tell them..."

You gotta act fast if you want Angel to have a chance at surviving this-

"My innocent babies..."

"It's okay, darling, you still have two other babies you can lie to about how we made them~"

He visibly perks up at that, sitting back down and resting his chin on you as his tail wags

"You're right, it's not too late to lie to them..!"

This one was so much fun!!

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[hazashiovo]

Hiiii! I just saw you’re taking requests could you do some bolin and/or mako relationships hcs with a badass/cool/badgirl kind of s/o please? Thx so much in any case!

I gotchuuu 😉

Bolin and Mako x reader (separate) with a badass s/o

A/n: keep the requests coming people

When Mako first met you he knew you were trouble. From the way you were talking to how you acted,he knew.

You're the kind of person that says ACAB,very loudly, near a police station just to piss him off,and don't deny it.

Becoming friends was unusual to him,only for him to realize you're a really good friend but have odd ways of showing it.

One time this dude went off on Bolin, yelling something about his cabbages,until you appeared in front of him.

He swears he never saw someone go quiet that fast before. That's the first time he felt something for you(or so he thinks).

Mako would be reluctant in confessing to you. He would be worried you don't like him back or laugh about it in his face.

But it was nothing like that, because he didn't confess. You did. During a fight with the equalizers.

It was sorta funny really,for a few minutes mako thought he got knocked out and he was dreaming.

"Hey mako?" A punch in one's face, "What is it (Name)?" He dodges an attack.

"I like you!" You wink at him,after knocking an enemy out.

Oh and the expression on his face 😭

Yeah after you got rid of Amon's followers,Mako looked at you like you asked him to marry you.

It wasn't a shock when you got together, everyone shiped you.

The two of you are an amazing duo,bad ass boyfriend and even more bad ass girlfriend.

When he joined the police department,you joined him.

Now Mako knows your beautiful,and strong,but he still hates the way his colleagues undress you with their eyes.

God forbid anyone to try to ask you out without knowing you and Mako date.

It would sometimes create arguments between you two, Mako would say some harsh things,things he didn't mean. Of course the next day you'd make up.

But if it was for a girl to flirt with Mako, you wouldn't get all defensive because you trust him.

Now, leaving that aside.

One thing Mako noticed is that you can take good care of yourself,so you never were in need of help in combat.

But if it ever happens ,his whole world would crash,like if you're a bender, imagine Amon taking away your abilities.

Even without your bending you would be confident and strong,which makes Mako admire you more than before.

On top of it,you're great together and most of the people would say so.

Now Bolin here? Oh Bolin, when he first saw you his pupils turned to hearts,and I'm not joking.

Like,you would be over there with your cool car or cool motorcycle,and Bolin would gawk at you from across the street. He almost fainted when you crossed the street to start a conversation with him.

Of course Bolin would be a flustered mess every time you flirted with him.

Frankly all you wanted was a soft boy to match with your tough personality. The people who don't know you would think you'd prefer a boy with the same personality as you,but no, Bolin is the perfect boy.

Some people think you're intimidating,but not Bolin.

He knows you're badass,but he could never see you as scary.

He likes when you stand up for yourself,and for him.

One time Bolin happened to trip over this guy's cabbage stand,and he just flipped! Started yelling at the poor boy and all.

Until you came,you gave that man the coldest glare which made him shut up so quick. He couldn't lie to himself that he found it really attractive, especially in you.

I like to think that he confessed his love to you while you were saving him from Amon with the Krew. Imagine him just jumping on you , bawling his eyes out and telling you he's in love with you after he almost lost his bending.

Of course you accepted and returned his feelings,wich got the two of you in a long term relationship that is still strong.

.

.

This one was cute 😽

[kneelingshadowsalome]

this is so farmer!könig & off the grid!könig 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://www.tumblr.com/gauloiseblue/746443017434595328/this-is-price-you-cant-change-my-mind

Link to the original post

yes, farmer!König will impregnate his farmhand girl through a huge peephole if he can, promises to pull out but never does... begs for forgiveness on his knees afterwards, apologizing profusely at your door, saying he'll never do it again! he just got carried away, he hasn't been with a woman in ages (if ever), you must understand... please, let him hold you for a while and maybe put it in again? you tell him he's too desperate, he wouldn't last a minute out there in the real world, but he just bullies his cock back inside you with a pathetic whine. he's the loneliest man in the universe here at this godforsaken farm so good luck with getting rid of him now that you allowed him to climb into your bed...

and off the grid!König is no better, sneaks up on you when you're tending to your silly little garden, picking up a cute cabbage completely unawares. it falls from your hands when he picks you off your feet, big arms fast around you and a stubbled, sweaty face buried in your hair. he was supposed to haul some wood into the shed but here he is, telling you he's in the mood if you are... hands sneaking up your shirt, plucking and pinching your nipples, he knows you wear no bra :( you can't say no to him even if the cabbage is now dirty and soiled and you're annoyed—König just tells you he'll help you with your veggies and flowers if you give him this one little treat... soon he's spreading your legs under the sun, inspecting you in full daylight while the ducks quack in the distance and sweet crickets chirp in the hay. this is what he brought you here for, to be bred and loved like the silly woman that you are ❤️🌿!

[phoward89]

Masterlist

Jealous!Coryo x Reader, Odair!Ancestor x Reader.

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. That man is a walking blood red flag waving heavily in the wind! engagement (not reader), smut, infidelity, love triangle, manipulation, stalking?, gaslighting, fluff, Head Gamemaker!Coryo, District 4 Cruise Ship Heir!Odair OC. DarkCoriolanus, Jealous!Coriolanus

Chapter 2:

While Coriolanus is in his office, high up on the top floor of the Citadel, raging and having an internal meltdown about your relationship, you’re walking down a crowded downtown sidewalk, hand in hand with Odysseus. The two of you were heading to a cafe near the office for lunch.

“I'll cook you dinner tonight. How does that sound for a third date?” The bronze-haired man offered, his smile full of sunshine and dimples. Odysseus' smile was contagious: you couldn't help, but to smile widely back at him.

“Last time I had a man cook for me I was 18.” You honestly admitted as a fleeting memory of Coriolanus, all skin and bones, stirring a pot of cabbage popped into your mind.

“I know that it's rude to ask a woman her age, but I must know, how old are you?”

“I’m not offended, Odysseus.” You assured him before revealing your age. “I'm 24, by the way.”

Leaning in, as if he was going to tell you a big secret, he smiled- large and scandalously, and revealed, “I'm 28.” Bumping your shoulder lightly with his, Odysseus teasingly chuckled, “Guess it's time for me to bust out the wheelchair since I'm the Old Man of the Sea in this relationship and you're the youthful mermaid.”

You let out a laugh, a genuine laugh, at your boyfriend's words. You've only known him for a day, but so far he's proven to be nothing, but respectful and kind. He's unlike anyone you've ever met before.

Odysseus was very bubbly and it was refreshing. After being with someone so cold and calloused for so long, being with a warm soul was like a breath of fresh air.

“I don't know much about such things. Is it something common to District 4?”

Odysseus nodded, only to say. “The Old Man of the Sea is the water god, Triton.” instead of leaving it there, he decided to explain the legend of the sea god to you. “He's very wise and it's said that if you can manage to capture him and hold on as he changes into many forms that he can answer any questions that you have, about anything at all.”

“Had anyone ever caught him?” You curiously asked as the cafe came into view.

“Some claim to have caught him, no one really pays them any mind, now do they?” He chuckled.

Odysseus' smile brightly widened as he animatedly explained the lore of mermaids to you, “And a mermaid, according to folklore, is a mythological water spirit that's the most beautiful siren of a woman on the top half, while having a fish tail instead of legs for the bottom half.” Coming to a stop at the cafe, he held the door open for you while continuing his sea creature lecture with, “They can both wreak havoc by causing shipwrecks and can be benevolent by granting boons; some even forgo their own mermen and fall in love with human men.”

Guiding you to one of the bistro tables (since the cafe was on of those seat yourself and someone will be with you in a moment type places), he told you with a faraway look in his sea-green eyes. “My Pops says that my Ma was so beautiful that he's positive that she was a mermaid who struck a deal to gain human form.”

From the way his voice slightly quaked while mentioning his mother, you knew that she was most likely dead. How did you know? Because Coriolanus’ voice did the same thing if and when he ever mentioned his late mother (which was rare and far in-between).

“How old were you when she passed, if you don't mind me asking?” You tentatively asked, knowing that it might be a touchy subject, while taking your.seat at a windowside Odysseus brought you to.

“I don't mind you asking, honey.” The bronze haired man assured you, taking his seat across from you at the table. Grabbing the menus from the display rack on the edge table, near the window, and handing one over to you, he simply said, “I was about 9.” Opening his menu, he sadly explained, “There was a hurricane in 4 that completely flattened the beach side community her family's house was at. Even tho she was a strong swimmer, she drowned.” Staring a hole into his menu, he bitterly spat, “President Ravinstill refused to send help or aid, or to even evacuate that part of District 4 because Panem was in the early days of the war.”

“You and Poseidon were here, in the Capitol, while she was trapped in 4.” You concluded while scanning your own menu.

“Yes, that's how I ended up living a privileged life in Capitol City while my mother and her family’s beach house was swept off of its foundation; lost to the depths of Davy Jones' locker.”

“My father was an officer in 12 during the war. His commander helped him smuggle my mother, older brother, and me here, to the Capitol, during the Dark Days.”

“He was found swinging in the trees outside of 12 with General Snow, wasn't he?”

“Yea.” You nodded, only to change the subject by announcing what you thought looked appetizing on the menu.

Coriolanus was barely holding it together whenever he walked into his penthouse. As he went to hang up his coat and place his leather briefcase on the side table by the coat rack, he felt his Grandma'am’s eyes on him.

Her stare was scrutinizing, making him feel as if he was a little boy again- getting scolded. He hates that feeling. The feeling of not being perfect, of failing. He strives to be the best, at everything he does, so Grandma'am staring him down with thoughts of shame unnerved him.

Grandma'am didn't have to say it, he just knew that she was disappointed in him. But why? He's successful as the Head Gamemaker, he's going to announce his run for Senate, and he's engaged to be married to a young lady from a very prestigious banking family. He's well on his way to success.

On his way to becoming the President of Panem in a few years time. Something that Grandma'am has always wanted for Coriolanus. Shouldn't she be proud of him, not staring him down with shame?

“How have I disappointed you, Grandma’am?” Coriolanus asked the old woman, keeping his voice cold and even, as he shrugged out of his favorite maroon trench coat; hanging it up on the corner rack after placing his briefcase on the nearby sphere shaped side table. Made out of mahogany, of course. Only the best for the Snow family.

Which is why you feel like you're not a fixture in the penthouse anymore. You're not good enough to be a part of the Snow family; to be with Coriolanus. There's something better out there for him, but you've come to accept it and move on.

Coriolanus hasn't moved on, but he won't allow himself to admit that he's fucking up his life by listening to Strabo Plinth when it came to the affairs of his heart. Oh, yes, that's right, the platinum blonde man turned into a cold creature that destroyed his own heart; refuses to acknowledge love. All he knows now is hate, indifference, and lust.

Truthfully, he's in denial when it comes to you and his feelings. He just chalks it up to being possessive and lustful over you, but honestly it's love. A dark, twisted take on love since he's a broken man and doesn't know how to love, but it's love none the less that he feels for you.

“Your father would be ashamed of you, Coriolanus. I know that I am; so is your cousin, Tigris.” The white haired woman, dressed in all her fineries, told her grandson. “Most of all, your mother would be heartbroken knowing that her son turned his back on the love of his life.”

Grandma'am’s words cut Coriolanus deep as he walked over to the sitting area in the main room. Her words cut so deep, it felt like a long double edged sword piercing through the spot where his black, cold, dead heart is locked up in his chest.

His jaw clenched painfully as he stormed gracefully, thanks to his long legs, over to the open sitting chair across from his Grandma’am. He felt his soul bleeding in his chest as he sat down. The old Snow family matriarch’s words burned Coriolanus worse than if he bathed in gasoline and lit himself on fire with a match.

But Coriolanus Snow’s a very proud man; he won't admit that Grandma'am's words hurt him. That they rang true; made his conscious berate him. Made him feel a pang of self loathing and guilt.

No…

Coriolanus will act like he didn't do anything wrong, even tho he did.

“I didn't turn my back on the love of my life because I don't have one.” Coriolanus denied in a flat out lie.

Lie, lie, lie!

You're the love of his life and he knows it, but he's just too goddamn afraid to admit it. So fucking scared of being hurt, used, manipulated, and weakened by love. He’d rather deny his feelings for you then face them.

Coriolanus can face anything headon, except for his feelings. The man didn't do feelings. And that was such a shame, because he truly did love you.

Too bad he was too focused on his political ambitions; couldn't see how much you loved him and vice versa.

Grandma'am blanched at Coriolanus’ words. Those words hurt her deeply. She loves you, as if you were one of her own, and knew how large of a role you played in her grandson's life. And to hear Coriolanus write the love you too share so easily, as if it was nothing, made her wonder where she went wrong with him? Tigress turned out fine, so why was Coriolanus so…so cold and dead towards the girl that he's loved his entire life?

Watching Coriolanus as he reached forward to grab a piece of candy from the large 3-tier candy dish set in the middle of the glass coffee table, Grandma'am sadly wondered, “I didn't raise you to be like this, Coriolanus. How can you be so cold when it comes to Y/N, your sweetheart?”

“She was never my sweetheart, Grandma'am.” Coriolanus retorted coldly. The frostiness in his baritone even sent a chill down his own spine, but it was too late to take it back now. The glacial sharp sentence was now in the universe, floating around; sure to manifest and take hold.

The remark and the attitude that accompanied it would surely come back to bite Coriolanus in the ass; to haunt him. There's no way on earth, in heaven, or in hell those cruel and icy words won't find their way back to you. Because they will…

“I see.” Was Grandma’am’s clipped response. Those two words held so much sadness and disappointment in them. The old woman's wrinkled face turned sour as she informed her grandson, “I just hope that she didn't ruin her life sitting around; waiting for your love. She turned down quite a few wealthy suitors, even a General’s son, as I understand from Tigress- who felt that Y/N was wasting her time on you because you've changed- turned hateful and cold.”

What? You turned down opportunity after opportunity to get out of poverty; all because of your silly notion of being in love with him? Of wanting more than what he can offer you?

You willingly choose to work for scraps, having your ideas used by your boss- to be claimed by them as theirs instead- for advertisements and marketing plots, instead of being pampered on and made a socialite by a rich man. What’s wrong with you? Were you truly foolish enough to believe that love could pay the bills; could be more than enough for you? Were you foolish enough to want the insecurity of love over the security of wealth?

Coriolanus never took you for a foolish girl, but now…well he doesn't know what to think. Why would you hold out hope for him to love you, to pick you, to give you things he's incapable of if you weren't foolish. You knew as well as he did that he has to do certain things to climb to the top, to reach his political goals, and that entering a union of love with you isn't one of those things.

“Waiting around for me to love her; to propose a marriage that would only hinder my political aspirations, makes her one of the biggest fools in Panem, Grandma'am.” Heartlessly shot out of Coriolanus’ mouth before he could think twice. He didn't even recognize his voice, but it truly was his.

“I don't know what happened to you, grandson, to make you so hateful. That girl's loved you ever since the Dark Days and you seemed to love her back, but I now see that you were just using her. Using her like that little songbird of 12 used you up years ago during the 10th Hunger Games.” Grandma’am spat at Coriolanus, causing the hardened young man to just flash her a deadly look. A look that would make most people cower in fear. But, Grandma'am Snow wasn't like most people. She did raise General Crassus Snow after all and he had some of the most hateful pale blue eyes in the Capitol.

Coriolanus' face was cold as stone, his eyes flashing with fury, as he seethed, “Don't you bring up that dead district whore to me, you old bitch. I'll take any of your other ramblings, but not talk about that songbird.”

The disrespect and loathing in her grandson’s tone worried Grandma'am. She's never seen Coriolanus in such a light, but she didn't like it.

Her grandson was nothing like his father. No, Coriolanus was worse than Crassus. Despite being a strict man that believed in totalitarian rulership, Crassus Snow was capable of love. He loved his wife dearly and unconditionally. But his son, well, it seems like Coriolanus has closed himself off to love.

And that scares Grandma'am.

“I think, since you're newly engaged, that it's time for you to find your own penthouse to live in.” The Snow matriarch told her iciscle of a grandson while watching him lean forward to grab another piece of candy from the extravagant candy dish.

Popping the piece of candy into his mouth, Coriolanus simply said, “If that's what you want, then I'll move out.” Standing up, he said, “I'll go call the Plinths' realtor, see if there's any penthouses available in one of the new Luxe buildings downtown.”

No, Coriolanus wasn't going to see if there was a penthouse available in any of the new Luxe buildings, but in your specific building. Because, by living in your building, he'll be able to give you gifts without being stopped by that troublesome doorman with high morals. He'll also be able to fix things with you, get you to see his logic and agree to come back to him. Coriolanus will be able to break you and Odysseus Odair, the Capitol’s biggest manwhore, up before you become too enthralled by him. Before he loses you to him.

Despite denying his feelings for you and calling you a foolish girl for loving him, the thought of you possibly falling in love with somebody else terrifies him. It eats away at his soul, knowing that right know you're probably thinking about the date Odysseus took you on last night.

Coriolanus is jealous that you're moving on (after a damn month!) with somebody that he views unworthy of you. And he's going to put an end to things, make you return to his side.

And the perfect way to do that is living in your building. So, hopefully, Coriolanus can purchase the penthouse in your Luxe complex.

After a long day at work, you went home and got changed into something comfortable before going across the hall to Odysseus’. You felt a bit nervous knocking on his door. Yes, he did invite you over and said he'd cook dinner for a third date, but it's been a while since you've been invited to a man's apartment. In fact, the last time you went to a man's apartment was the night that you ended things with your ex.

When the door opened, revealing Odysseus in the doorway dressed in a simple tank and shorts, you felt your mouth go dry. His tan skin was glowing, bronze hair effortlessly framing his shoulders in waves. But it was the face splitting smile, brighter than the sun, that took your breath away.

How is it that he can always flash you that smile every time he's around you? Can he truly be that happy to see you? You last saw him a few hours ago for lunch, he couldn't have missed you that much- could he?

“Come on in.” Odysseus urged you, pulling you into the apartment with an excited look on dimples face. “I got shrimp and asparagus risotto on the stove.” He told you, gently closing the door as you walked into his place; taking in the decor.

The decor was nothing like how you expected a modern, upscale apartment to look like. The walls, instead of being the standard white, cream, or light grey that's standard in the building, were different shades of blue and green. Also, you noticed how a pair of hammock-like chairs made up entirely of rope and nets hung from the ceiling. Instead of a sofa, like most people had in their apartments, Odysseus had floor cushions that were shaped to resemble a couch. The coffee table was a chunk of driftwood with glass on it, while the TV was set on a table painted various shades of blue to resemble waves. And the wall decorations of various shells really set off the beachy vibe of the apartment.

“Is this how houses are decorated in District 4?” You asked, standing in the middle of the mainroom- taking everything in.

“Yea.” Odysseus nodded. “Wait until you see the kitchen, you'll love it.” He told you, only to grab your hand and drag you into the kitchen.

The kitchen, that was decorated with mounted fish all over the walls. The beautiful white cabinets had all of their doors taken off. The back walls of the cabinets were painted teal, creating a contrast with the white shelves and frame. And the once white marble countertops were painted (Yes, he painted over marble!) seafoam green. The kitchen island stools looked to be made out of a mix of driftwood and rope, which made you wonder how sturdy they were.

“Sit down, honey. The risotto’s almost done.” Your new boyfriend beamed, guiding you to sit down on one of the stools (that you were iffy about). “You're going to love this risotto; recipe’s a simple one from 4, but it's delicious.” Odysseus told yoy, going over to the stove and stirring the contents in the pan so it wouldn't burn.

“Do you eat anything other than seafood?” You asked, hoping that he did. Honestly, you didn't eat seafood religiously, so if Odysseus did then…well…guess you'll have to deal with it.

“Fish’s healthy for you, Y/N.” The heir to the largest luxury cruiseline out of District 4 told you while taking the risotto pan off of the stove and placing it onto the countertop.

Which was bad, because without a trivet to rest on the heat from the pan can ruin the counter. Does he not give a shit about ruining his counter? Hell, Coriolanus would be having a stroke if you pulled that shit- placing a hot pan on his marble counter without using a trivet.

Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait a minute, wait a goddamn minute! Why the fuck are you thinking about Coriolanus, your ex, when you're about to have a nice home cooked meal with Odysseus, your current boyfriend? What the hell's wrong with you?

What? Are you going to be that girl that compares apples to oranges in bed too?

Odysseus’ warm hands skirt across your body as his mouth leaves feather soft kisses all over your skin, but it feels foreign to you. Honestly, you're not used to soft caresses and lightly peppered kisses. Of lips pressing against yours firmly, but faintly. You weren't used to a man swiping the tip of his tongue along your lower lip in a way that was both sensual and questioning all at the same time.

No.

You're used to hungry, sloppy butterfly kisses which turn into bruising bites all over your skin. You're used to cold, rough hands squeezing and grabbing at you. You're used to lips harshly clashing against yours in hungry desperate kisses. Kisses that seemed to be from a man starved and he shoved his tongue down your throat without warning. Desperate kisses that turned into opened mouth ones, complete with spit swallowing, tongue sucking, and bottom lip biting.

You're not used to softness. Instead, you're used to roughness. But perhaps you could get used to softness.

Or at least you tell yourself you'll get used to softness as you lay naked underneath Odysseus, splayed out on the floor cushions, as he languidly rolls his hips against yours. His movements are reminiscent of ocean waves crashing against the shore. His thrusts were slow, but powerful.

You felt like you're going to explode as Odysseus’ mellow movements slowly worked passion into you. Your pussy begged to be pounded, craved for his cock to bruise against the spongy spot inside of it. But instead of brute force, your cunt got gently caressed by Odysseus’ large cock (well, he had the length, but not the girth you're used too. Oh god, are you really comparing your boyfriend's cock to your ex’s cock? Yes, yes you are and you'll probably go to hell for it.) evertime he dragged it against your tight walls, only to push back into you again.

You bucked your hips, whining out, “Faster, Odysseus. Harder, please.”

Odysseus just smiled lazily, making his dimples protrude deeply in his cheeks. Bringing one of his hands up to stroke your cheek, he said, “I see you're not used to making love, honey. But, you'll get used to being worshiped like the goddess you are.”

His words were sweet and sent your heart fluttering a mile a minute. And the smoldering look he gave you as he snapped his hips just a little bit deeper, a little bit harder, for you and your head spinning.

And soon, before you knew it, your cunt’s clamping down around his cock and your nails (no longer crimson, but now a simple French manicure) are digging into his shoulder while you whimper, “Odysseus.” over and over as you cum.

Odysseus after feeling you cum around his cock, coating it in your stick juices, quickly pulled out of you. The feeling of emptiness crashed into you harder than any storm wave hitting a pier ever could as Odysseus knelt between your legs, quickly pumping his cock until he cum with your name on his lips. The feeling of his warm cum spurting out onto your belly made you twitch in surprise. 

You weren't used to having hot cum shoot onto your body, you were used to being filled up with it. Was there a reason why your boyfriend didn't want to cum inside of you?

But before you could ask him, he was pushing himself to stand while announcing, “I'll get you a towel so you can clean up.”

“Okay.” You simply nodded, laying on the floor cushions while spent with white pearl like seed slowly sliding down your stomach.

After a few minutes, Odysseus came back with a towel. He gave it to you, before collecting his shorts and pulling them on. As you cleaned his cum off of your stomach, he gathered your clothes- which you thought was odd.

Coriolanus never gathered your clothes for you after fucking you. No, he used to pull you into his arms; pressing you to lay into his side, while carding his fingers thru your hair. Some times, after a particularly rough and hard fucking, he'd draw a bath for the two of you or he'd hold you in bed while telling you that you did so well; that he was proud of you for not using the safeword- only to remind you that next time if you need to use the safe word (red) that you can and he won't think any less of you.

But you're not with the platinum blonde man (who doesn't give a shit about you, who's engaged to the heir of Panem's biggest bank now) anymore, you're now with a bronze haired man who’s habits you'll just have to learn. Have to get used to.

Flopping down on the seat cushions, Odysseus handed you over your clothes. “I thought you might want to get dressed so you won't be could while we watch tv.”

“You want to watch tv?” You asked, finding it strange that he brought up tv instead of cuddling.

“Yea, there's supposed to be a fishing documentary on soon and I don't wanna miss it.”

A fishing documentary…Of course, he wants to watch something about District 4. Well, you can't fault him for that. He has a tie in a way to the district and just wants to learn all he can about it, since he resides in the Capitol.

Plus, you suppose that you can cuddle with him while watching the documentary together.

Coriolanus walked behind the realtor (a middle-aged man that Strabo Plinth had on speed dial) as he opened the door to the penthouse suite of the Luxe apartment building that you reside in. “You're in luck, Mr. Snow, that nobody's applied for this unit; that I was able to fit you in for an after hours showing as well.”

“Yes, Mr. Grand, it seems that I'm very lucky that I'm the only one inquiring about this penthouse.” Coriolanus told the realtor, a calculating line of a smile on his face, as he took in the vast space of the main room. 

It was twice as big as the Corso penthouse; surely you'd be impressed by it. This was your building, even if you did live on a lower floor (where the working-poor of the Capitol were), so Coriolanus knew that you’d like his new penthouse once he convinced you to see it. And, despite just starting the tour with the realtor, it was his place.

The platinum blonde master manipulator was going to move in as soon as possible, because it was the only way to get you back. He had to get you away from that peacock Odair before you did something stupid, like let him seduce you and get knocked up. You're not allowed to get knocked up by anyone, other than Coriolanus that is.

Yes, Coriolanus feels that he's the only one that can give you children. Nobody else better put a baby in you, unless they have a death wish.

But unknown to Coriolanus, Odysseus isn't ready for children yet (He may or may not have a few baby mamas and paternity test disputes floating around that his rich daddy Poseidon’s taking care of) which is why he practiced the pull out method with you while ‘making love’ on his floor cushions.

If only Coriolanus knew…well…he'd be having a coronary.

Not about the pullout method (no, that's something he'd be thankful for cause he's the only one allowed to cum inside of you), but about you making love to Odysseus on the floor. That fact right there would make Coriolanus made enough to kill. He's already jealous that you went to dinner with Odair, but if he ever found out that you fucked him…oh boy…it'd be like a throat punch to his ego.

It'd also be a dagger through his cold, dead, black, too small heart that secretly holds love for you. 

But what Coriolanus doesn’t know won't hurt him. Besides, he's engaged to Livia Cardew and should be worried about her, not you. But, no matter what, he'll always worry about you because you're the one he wants in his life- despite driving you away by entering an arranged match for money, power, and glory.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

[woncon]

➳ bunnytalk

➶ bunny!jungkook x owner gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ your hybrid is acting strange lately. When you're not enough to help, you call Seokjin over to check on Jungkook. The diagnosis is shocking.

➴ genre: hybrid au, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, vet!seokjin, shy!jk

: ̗̀➛ warnings: jk is a bunny hybrid, reader is anxious bc jk's sadness

⌨ :: 2.4K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ thanks to @wonsheep for helping me fix my grammar mistakes and for giving me advice how to convert a whole story into another language precisely °♡̷•.

➳ bts masterlist | main masterlist

You ran through the aisles of the store as if you were being chased. And you really were, but the thing giving you chase had already caught up: the gray anxiety was perched on your shoulders, pressing along your joints like a sloppy masseur.

Salad. No need for a doctor, just a salad.

This was your mantra, with which you tried to control the despair, to slow down the panic that insinuated into your blood. With trembling fingers, you shoved the right products into your basket, and then you were already scrambling for the next ingredient.

Carrot, lettuce, cucumber, tomato, purple cabbage, corn - as Jungkook likes it. As soon as you had everything, you hurried to the cash register. The marble screeched under your feet as you suddenly stopped to avoid bumping into the person in front of you in the line. The man turned to you in disdain, but that was the least of your concerns right then. You had to make the salad: that was the most important thing. The fact that you were dead tired, that you did not plan on coming to the store, what you wanted to do half an hour ago, or what the guy thinks is completely negligible.

The only person standing before you in line was that guy, and he didn't buy anything other than some yogurt, bread and beer, still, you felt that the slowing factors took too long. For example, the cashier boy who scanned the products you were about to buy with a broad half-smile.

"Light dinner?"

"Yeah. For my hybrid."

Before the boy could speak - forcing his phone number into your hand, asking for a date or keeping you there with questions or more words - you stuffed the last carrot into your bag, scattering the money in front of the other.

"Bye!"

You dashed out of the store into the early evening cool, and ran home.

You hoped something had changed, but no. Jungkook was still curled up on the sofa, unmoving. Taking one look at him was enough to increase your concerns. You threw yourself into the kitchen. The vegetables were scattered on the counter, the tools clattered from the drawer to them, and the water was gurgling noisly from the tap. Your hair and clothes stuck to your sweaty skin. Fear gripped your heart like a baby holding onto its mother.

No need for a doctor. I can solve it myself.

Although you worked hard, and almost cutting your skin in your rush, the encouraging thought meant less and less, your hope faded into inconceivability with the passing of time.

"Kook? What's wrong?" The boy could always turn to you with his problems, and this turned out to be valid the other way around as well. Jungkook's wise insight and cheerful attitude have helped you a lot since you started living together. In addition to the owner-hybrid relationship, you were also roommates and friends.

When you first saw Jungkook on the couch, you thought he was sleeping. In the beginning of you two living together, the boy often slept with his eyes open, closing them only after full trust had been established. By the way, this wouldn't have been the first time that he fell asleep on the couch. But this was different. You wanted to tuck him in, and the boy's gaze focused on you, then he stared ahead again, uninterested. He also blinked.

He wasn't asleep at all.

Jungkook didn't answer. You weren't freaked out yet. Jungkook had instinctive actions and behaviors, but he was unable to verbalize them. He once summed it up by saying that in such cases the rabbit is the master, who only communicates through action.

"If you can't talk about it, just nod or shake your head." You waited half a minute. "Did I hurt you with something?"

You were about to caress his arm, but Jungkook pushed you away before you could touch him. Then you understood, something really must have happened. Not only was the boy not in the mood, he didn't want any of your company either. This has never happened before. In addition, the warning signs were lining up: him cowering, ears flattened, rejecting your approach.

The boy's rabbit self emphasized his condition. You heard somewhere - in a documentary, from a doctor friend, or maybe from one of your exes, who knows - that rabbits can be sick and depressed if they show these symptoms and don't eat.

So you, as soon as you realized, you jumped up, pulled your coat back on as you had just taken it off, and whirled through the streets to make Jungkook's favorite salad. Because if he eats, you won't have to be afraid, you would be enough to help.

The meal was ready in twenty minutes. Sighing, you headed into the living room to regulate your breathing. You couldn't know if you were overreacting or if such intense distress was justified. You were sure of one thing: how important Jungkook is to you, along with his physical and mental health.

"Kook?" You knelt in front of the couch again, this time balancing the dish you prepared. The hybrid didn't even turn to look at you now. You felt your heart cramp up. "Please." You put your elbow on the edge of the couch, pushing the plate closer to him. "Eat up."

If something didn't happen then, you would have cried. But luckily, Jungkook reacted: his nose moved, crinkling sweetly. He smelled the salad. Then his eyes searched for the source of the scent, but his hands still didn't reach for it. You already considered this a big step forward, you were a little relieved: when you put the first bite in Jungkook's mouth, you felt better. Jungkook started chewing. The sounds of his munching was music to your ears.

You didn't speak, but the more the boy ate, the more lively he became. His black ears slowly rose, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position too. Jungkook put the last lettuce leaf and piece of carrot in his mouth with his own hand. You sat next to him and watched him happily. You didn't dare to touch him yet.

After finishing the meal and placing the bowl next to the couch, the hybrid crouched down next to you uncertainly, seemingly trying to say something, but in the end he just nudged your upper arm with his nose, pushed it, then ducked under, still poking the body part. Jungkook let you know in rabbit language that he needed care and caress. You smiled, running your fingers through the boy's hair, fluffy ears nuzzling your neck as Jungkook snuggled into your shoulders, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist, cuddling close. You caressed his face, his shoulders, all along his back. The bunny grinded his teeth in satisfaction.

Everything was resolved, order was restored, you thought.

You were wrong.

Whatever was weighing down on Jungkook's soul, the problem didn't go away, the salad was merely a distraction for him. You were confronted with this the next morning, as the boy curled up in a lethargic state on the edge of the bed. Somehow you knew that salad wasn't going to help anymore here. The boy's entire body tensed up as if he was an angry stone statue.

There was no question that you wouldn't go to work. You rang your boss in your pajamas to tell him you were taking the day off. The latter reacted with complete understanding. Immediately after the end of the conversation, you called your doctor friend to come over.

"Y/N, you know it takes two for a hybrid. A doctor specializing in humans and a veterinarian. I'm only the latter. Namjoon is currently operating, so you need to wait."

"You will be enough. I can't bring Kook in. He doesn't move, doesn't speak. I think he has more rabbit-like problems."

"Okay, I'll be there in twenty to twenty-five minutes. Stay with him until then."

"I'm not going anywhere."

You did as you said. You carelessly threw your phone on the couch and retreated to the bedroom, laying down next to Jungkook. You scanned his stiff back muscles, and now you were completely devastated because you didn't know how to help. You wanted to give him at least a comforting hug to let him know you were there for him, but your approach was rebuffed with a grunt. Jungkook didn't want any of your company again.

Seokjin arrived as he promised, but for you, time was slowed down by your own grinding agony and terrifying visions. Hearing the knocking, however, time jolted back a little into its place. You jumped up and ran to the door. The man came in a doctor's coat, carrying a bag.

"Come." You grabbed Seokjin's hand, who would've protested and said something about his shoes. "It doesn't matter, just come."

You basically dragged him into the bedroom. Like a melancholic painting, there Jungkook was: in rolled up blankets, just staring at the wall. No happy colors, just gray, black and sad blue.

"Please, help him!" You dropped onto the bed, whispering your plea to your guest, who nodded and approached the patient.

"Hi, Jungkook. I'm going to run some routine tests on you, okay?"

"In this current condition, he doesn't like to be touched." You warned Seokjin.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you." He put his hand on Jungkook's shoulder. The boy didn't react, just tolerated it.

Seokjin then checked his breathing, body temperature, and heart rate.

"That would be it, rest easy!" Seokjin headed outside and motioned for you to follow him with a jerk of his head. You obeyed. The man closed the door and settled down on the living room sofa. You sat down next to him, wringing your hands.

"What's up with him?"

"He's warm, but no fever. His heart rate is high, but that could also be from stress. I don't see any signs of sickness, but something really freaked him out. How long has he been like this?"

"I noticed yesterday when I came home that Jungkook was lying on the sofa and not moving. It's possible that he had been sitting like that for a long time. I made him a salad, then he got up and ate, but this morning he was curled up again."

"Didn't he get some sort of shock? Wasn't he acting strange before?"

You were about to say no when you remembered the past week and the incident the morning before.

"He pokes me a lot with his chin, bites me and licks my skin. Sometimes he even nips me. And after he got up yesterday, he ran around me like five times. In the meantime, he made a strange oinking sound."

You still remembered the boy's sparkling eyes when he stopped, his raised ears, his sniffing nose. His body stiffened with excitement. You didn't know how to react, so you just smiled and went to make your coffee.

And Seokjin started laughing. You stared at him in disbelief. The man snorted, still chuckling. You were about to punch him on the shoulder, but Seokjin - to his luck - spoke up.

"He loves you very much."

You knew that, you loved him too. But the way Seokjin emphasised his words somehow suggested something else.

"What do you mean?"

"You are his human owner. You act like one most of the time. To Jungkook, however, you are no longer just an owner. Biting and licking in rabbit language means a love confession. He also marked you with the scent glands under his chin as his property. And running means clear courtship. Since you didn't reciprocate that, he has to process that you rejected him, and it's hard when you're always around, wanting to touch him."

You had a revelation.

"I didn't know. If I had known - How can I undo it?"

"Why? You love him in the romantic sense?"

That was a pretty straightfoward question, but you knew the answer very well.

"Damn it! Yes! I'm head over heels for him. And yes, I do want to be with him. So how do I change my no to a yes?" All this flooded out of you: you were worried and nervous, you couldn't help it. You were at your wits end because of your own helplessness.

"Jungkook is not acting like a human right now. First, you have to make yourself understood by the rabbit living inside, only then you can tell the person your feelings. You have to become a rabbit and reciprocate the gestures with which he expressed himself to you."

Seokjin gave you instructions, then left. You were very grateful, but you couldn't express it properly yet, first you had to express something else to someone else.

You returned to the bedroom to confess to Jungkook with bunny talk. You laid down next to him again, this time taking care not to touch him with your hands, as you weren't needed as an owner or as a human. You swallowed nervously, then ventured closer to Jungkook's nape.

You bit him gently. Almost immediately after that, both of Jungkook's ears perked up, his body was tense in a different way: he was listening intently. Feeling thousands of butterflies with wings of hope in your body, you ventured further, licking along his artery. After this action, you moved away, blushing.

Jungkook sat up, facing you. His gaze was clear, peaceful, maybe a little disappointed, but mostly knowledge was visible in it.

"I love you."

"I know. Like a friend. I understand now."

"No." You scrambled to your feet, pulling him with you. You took some measurements to fit between Jungkook and the bed, moving him to the position you wanted to.

Then you ran around him several times, trying to imitate the strange sound that Jungkook also made, the kind of cooing.

When you stopped, your heart was pounding like a speeding train... Or like a rabbit hybrid who had just confessed their love.

"I love you," you whispered weakly. "I love you in this sense."

A huge grin appeared on Jungkook's face as he suddenly took you in his arms, spinning you around in the room and then finally threw himself along with you onto the bed.

In his happiness, he also did something that you as his owner and as a human immediately understood: he kissed you. Tenderly, softly, truly in love, and at the same time he held your face in the palm of his hand. As he leaned away, he covered his flushed face with his fluffy ears. He laughed.

"Kook..."

You were beautiful with a pleading blush. And your heart belonged to Jungkook.

So he kissed you again.

[megamindsecretlair]

Been an (Awful) Good Girl

Pairing: Rich!Tre x Babygirl!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

*This is separate from Mr. Black but with a similar style. Can be read as a future imagine for these two.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. This shit rated PORN. Established relationship. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering and oral (fem receiving), edging, orgasm control, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, size kink, daddy and breeding kink if you squint, roleplaying as Santa, all consensual.

Summary: Tre has taken you away to a cabin in the mountains for a romantic getaway. He roleplays as Santa so he can shimmy down your chimney.

Word Count: 4,653k

A/N: Chile, ya'll can blame this good ass edible and @planetblaque for this one! Sweet lordt. I had to take SEVERAL breaks. Don't look at me for this one. I'm not responsible for what the jazz cabbage provides. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist if you're interested about Mr. Black!

Tagging the folks who love Mr. Black: @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj @pinkpantheris @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov @mcdesij @kholdkill @blowmymbackout @theunsweetenedtruth @monaeesstuff @cocoeffects @soft-persephone @duckiesfairy @slippinninque @prettypink-princesss @westside-rot @the-crystal-one

A heavy thud made you gasp with excitement and fear as you headed down the stairs. A man dressed as Santa bent over near the Christmas tree, inspecting the presents there and leaving a few more. You tip-toed further down the stairs until you reached the bottom landing, placing your hand on your hips.

“I hope you’re leaving a good present for me,” you said. 

Santa straightened up and turned around slowly, revealing a thick ebony-skinned man. He wore Santa pants with unlaced black boots. Santa’s coat hung open revealing a wide expanse of sexy midnight skin. Rock hard abs was under a subtle layer of fat. There was a Santa hat hanging loosely on his head. He was a man. 

God and it killed you every day that you got to love on this man. That he was yours to do whatever you wanted with. 

“That depends. Have you been a good girl?” The deep timbre of his voice only added to how aroused you were. When he suggested this getaway to a mountain cabin, you thought that he was out of his rabbit ass mind. Black folk didn’t “do” cabins. 

However, you couldn’t resist all the things he’d been teasing you with all week. Every day, he’d whisper something else naughty that he was going to do to you leading up to Christmas. He detailed everything he was going to do as if it were its own treasured present.

All week, he had been edging you, playing with the outermost edges of your clit and pussy. He’d get you so hot and bothered that you thought you’d cum from his voice alone. No matter how many times you begged and pleaded, he refused to allow you to cum. He would whisper all kinds of dirty shit.

When you got to the cabin, he stayed true to his word. Except that he’d edged you more. You were sexually frustrated and you wanted dick right now. 

“I’ve been an awful good girl,” you said with a sultry grin. 

Santa absently rubbed his stomach as he crooked his finger and you walked closer to him. 

He had done a good job of getting the cabin ready for you both. He did all the research, ran it by you for approval, and set to work getting it set up for Christmas. The tree was understated and beautiful with copper and blue baubles. A Black angel in gold robes sat atop the tree with lights lit in her hands. 

He had a fire going in the hearth now, warming the entire first floor. It was a good thing too. You were not accustomed to the freezing temperatures in the mountains. The day time wasn’t so bad. But at night? You were shivering your ass off upstairs. 

Santa licked his lips as you approached, looking over your outfit for the day. You practically cackled while you were in the store, spending all his money on lingerie. Tonight, you chose a forest green teddy, with gold straps across your hips. It showed off the planes of your belly and connected in the back. It was flimsy and you felt incredibly sexy in it. 

By the look in his eyes, it was very much appreciated. He grabbed your hand and made you do a spin for him. You moved your hips dramatically, like a model to show him exactly what he’s been teasing all week. 

“Good girls usually stay sleep when Santa comes to visit,” he said. He pulled your hips backwards so that your ass could grind into his hard dick. You bit your lip and suppressed a shudder. You were so needy, you’d suck his dick till the morning if only he’d let you cum already. He grazed your left ear with his teeth.

“I’m too curious,” you said.

He chuckled and you felt the vibration down your back. Did this man have any clue how fucking sexy he was? He had to. He had to know that you were down bad for him. 

“Too curious about your presents? That’s very naughty,” he said, drawing out the word. His teeth on your ear were sending electrical currents straight to your pussy. You ached. You needed stimulation and you were tired of waiting. He was a mean asshole but he wasn’t typically this cruel. You didn’t know which side of the bed he woke up on, but he needed to switch up real quick before you got pissed and didn’t want to play anymore. 

You took a few deep breaths to calm down. You were too excited. Your teddy was already growing damp. That was just at the promise of dick. 

“I’ve been good all year. Can’t I take a little peak?” You asked.

“Hmm, how ‘bout you come sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want. Let’s see if Santa got it right this year,” he said in your ear. 

He stepped away from you and dragged a chair closer. The cabin was so quaint and adorable like all them cheesy ass Hallmark movies. The chair was antique, lovingly restored with a dark stain on it. You were nervous to defile it so crudely, but whatever. Shit wasn’t going to last forever.

He sat down and slapped your ass. You shrieked, not expecting the bite of pain. You looked over your shoulder at him and he gave you a saucy wink. He spread his legs wide enough for you to squeeze your luscious body in between. You sat on his lap, feeling his dick again. You were turned on, he was turned on, was all of this really necessary? 

You knew better than to question him. Once he got an idea in his head, it took damn near a miracle to get him to switch it up. 

The fabric of his clothes were plush. You settled on his lap and he pulled your hips back until you were all the way on him. He tapped your thighs to get you to hang them over his, leaving you just as spread as he was. More so, since your legs dangled outside of his. 

The heat of the fireplace slammed into you, fighting with the heat from inside of you. Your breaths were growing too ragged and painful in your chest. “Nuh-uh, breathe baby girl,” he said. “I ain’t even touch you yet.” 

He was right. He thought he was always right but in this instance, he really was right. You took deep breaths, looking into the real flames behind the black grate. Santa’s hands rubbed over your thighs and you gasped, jerking away from him. 

He continued to rub your thighs, getting you used to his touch. If you didn’t calm down soon, you were going to burst into little tiny pieces. His hands worked inwards, getting closer to your pussy and you began to grind on his dick. You used the arm rests for support.

You couldn’t help it. You needed to move, to ride. You needed some damn friction. “Tell Santa what you wanted this year. Anything that pops into that pretty empty head,” he said in your ear.

He returned to nibbling on it. You started and stopped multiple times. The heat began to duel in earnest now, sweat gathering on your forehead and in between your breasts. “Since I’ve been so good, I want a new car,” you said. 

He knew you had a really hard time asking for shit. He made good money and he liked taking care of you but every single purchase was a small battle of wills. You always lost, but he was getting sick of the guilt you felt over each purchase. 

His project this year was to get you to ask for the most outrageous things so that his gifts were “small” in comparison. Last year, his project was to make you rest. He whisked you away for an entire year and refused to let you do anything but sleep and hop on his dick. 

“What kind of car?” He asked. “Be specific.” 

You whimpered as his pinky fingers played with the very edge of your teddy. It skimmed the sensitive skin in the crease of your legs and you gyrated again, unable to stop. 

“I-I want a Range Rover Evoque, Black, 2024 model,” you said. He moved his fingers closer. If he went a bit farther, his fingers would finally rub on your clit. 

You were having a hard time breathing. You were out of air as your brain turned fuzzy. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen. Maybe it was how turned on you were. You weren’t sure and didn’t care to know.

“Tell Santa why you want it,” he said. 

You weren’t sure it was safe for a human body to contain so much heat. You flushed with it, as if it were a wall of pressure inside of you. You huffed. “It’s simple and unassuming. But has all wheel drive that I can take anywhere,” you said.

“Where you trynna go?” He asked.

“To our winter house in Northern France. A chateau with a huge green house I can visit and walk around all the new plants. Then it has to have a garden too. So big I could get lost in it,” you moaned.

He moved his fingers over the lace covering your clit. That tiny strip of fabric was all that separated you from his fingers. You wished the fireplace would leap out a tiny flame and burn the fabric away. You hated being teased and the bastard knew it. 

“That’s my girl,” he said. He moved his right hand and slipped it under your teddy. He groaned when he burrowed his fingers in between your soaked folds. 

“I don’t know. You still might end up on the naughty list. Do good girls let Santa play with their pussy?” He asked.

You nodded and shivered. Tingles shot up and down your thighs. Your toes curled around his calves. He was trying to kill you. He was actively committing murder and you were letting him. “Yes. Santa has to be taken care of too, right?” You asked. 

“What if I had a Mrs. Clause?” He asked.

“Then she’d be having a very lonely Christmas considering it’s my pussy you’re playing with,” you said. 

Santa chuckled and removed his fingers. “Wait! No!” You cried. 

He moaned while he licked his lips. Smacked his lips. “Good girls don’t have filthy mouths, baby girl,” he said. 

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’ll be good!” 

“Tell me what else you want and maybe I’ll go back to playing with it,” he said.

You grunted in frustration. You were going to get his ass back for this. When he least expected it. Maybe the next time he showered, you were going to drop to your knees and suck him to the point of cumming. Then you were going to stop and make him suffer like he made you suffer all week.

The thought helped you plan your next ask. “I want a private island. With a private plane I can take whenever I want,” you said. 

“A private island, huh? With on site staff?” He asked.

“Yes!” You ground into him based on that hit of gravel in his throat. He wasn’t entirely immune to what you were doing. He liked to act a big game, but he wasn’t made of steel. Although with that thing between his legs…

“What you gon’ do with this private island?” He asked.

“Walk on the beach naked,” you said with a grin. He couldn’t see you, but your words hit their mark. His hips slipped forward. He chuckled. 

“Oh, we got jokes tonight,” he said. 

You shuddered. “Fuck,” you panted. “I will walk around naked, get in the water naked. I might even lay on my beach and fuck myself with my fingers.”  You moved your hand to do just that. Fuck him. He pushed you too far this time. 

His fingers searched for your wet heat, pushing inside and you cried out. You leaned your head back, leaning on his shoulder. You were at an odd angle, your back curved a touch too far. You didn’t care. He was finally touching you.

Your pussy clenched around his fingers as he dipped three in at once. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck,” you moaned. Your right hand reached back to grip his bicep. The muscles squeezed and you held on by digging your nails in. 

“I can definitely deliver on some of them things. But I think what I got you is much better. That’s if I decide you’ve been good,” he said. 

You didn’t give a fuck what he said. You were grinding on his fingers while he pumped them inside you. Your arousal made you grip his fingers and he groaned at the extra pressure. “Nahh, you been too naughty. Talking back, disobeying orders, potty mouth.” 

You whined. “Please, I’ll do anything,” you panted. 

“Anything?” He whispered in your ear. You nodded, wiggling your hips. Fuck! His fingers weren’t enough! 

“Sit on my face then,” he said. 

Your hips stuttered as his words sunk in. He couldn’t be serious. “I don’t want to squish–”

“I die, I die,” he said.

You laughed despite yourself. “I’d miss you too much if you did,” you said. Fuck. You wanted his dick and he wasn’t going to make it easy. How did he know you so well? 

“Okay, okay,” you agreed. Fuck it. Santa chuckled as he withdrew his fingers again. He sucked on them, groaning at your taste. The small room was filled with the scent of your arousal. The thick musk tickled your nose. You felt naughty as hell. Okay, maybe there was something to this role playing business. 

You stood up and the chair scooted across the hardwood floor, grooves be damned. Before the hearth, there was a thick bearskin rug. On top of it, there were two other thick blankets with smooth downy fabric. 

You knelt down while Santa joined you. He got onto his back. The Santa jacket and boots had come off. His skin flickered with the light of the flames. Shadows played across his chest. You licked your lips as you straddled his chest. He scooted down while you scooted upwards towards his mouth.

Nerves made your hands shake and thighs quake. Your pussy moved over his face and he adjusted himself beneath you. He pressed his nose into your wet core and breathed deeply. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. He flicked his thumb over the thin material before yanking your teddy to the side.

“Shit’s so fucking creamy, baby girl,” he said.

You moaned while he pulled you down onto his face. You tried to use your knees to hover, but he was yanking you down anyway so that you literally sat on his face. His tongue started to move, flexing with his jaw. He was in it deep already. His thick beard rubbed your pussy and you moaned uncontrollably. 

“Oh my god,” you moaned. Your hands dropped to his head. Your body started to move, riding his face. You were flooding his face with your arousal. It practically dripped out of you and onto his chin, into his beard, and into his mouth. 

He moaned while he ate you out. The vibrations made his lips tingle. Pressed against your clit just so, you twitched and were shaking out your release. Your moans bounced in the cozy cabin. You screamed it all out. Such undiluted pleasure had you seeing through the roof and into the starry night sky. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned.

Santa continued to slurp up your essence. The loud sucking made your pussy flutter. “So fuckin’ creamy, shit,” he moaned. Harsh breaths escaped him and you felt slightly guilty. However, not too guilty because fuck that was amazing.

You didn’t have to worry about crushing him or wondering when he would tap out with an apology. Your head was silent for once. You were just a vessel for pleasure and at his mercy. 

“Roll over,” he said. 

You climbed off of him and flipped onto your back. He moved and leaned up onto his knees, scooting in between your legs and dropped his pants. He pressed his massive thighs against yours, pushing you nearly in half. 

He laid down into a push-up style position. His hands were on either side of you, pushing your thighs down even more against your body. He wiggled his hips and the tip of his dick swung lazily over your pussy.

“Oh please, baby. Please, please,” you begged with an edge of panic. 

Your feet dangled over his shoulders and you pushed them inward, wrapped around his head. He finally lined up perfectly, and began to sink in slowly.

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Fuck, me!” You moaned. 

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he moaned tiredly. 

He ought to be fucking tired from all that teasing he did! You bit your lip to keep from cursing him till kingdom come. He knew how long and thick he was. He knew he needed to get you sopping wet before even attempting this shit. But a week? A week of fucking teasing? 

Your tight hole squeezed his dick and he moaned, stopping about halfway in. “Breathe for me, baby girl. Breathe and let me into that sexy pussy,” he coaxed with a deep rumble in his chest.

You took deep breaths and willed your body to relax. You were just so excited, you didn’t know how you were still conscious. You relaxed enough for him to keep sliding in deeper. You jerked and moaned as he kissed your cervix. You grunted and groaned, a delicious burn working its way around the edges of your pussy. 

Fully seated, he stopped and let you adjust around him. He didn’t wait long to pull out and then slide back in, rougher. Your thighs slapped together like a thunderclap. You panted and your legs shook over his shoulders. 

Your hands flew to your knees to keep them closed around him. Otherwise, your legs would drop open and he’d split you in half. On second thought…

You let your knees fall open, opening you wider. Santa grinned, looking between your bodies at where you joined. His jaw worked, gathering spit, and spat on your pussy. An inhuman glint entered his eye as he fucked it into you.

Your moans continued to get louder as he slammed roughly into you. That long dick speared you from the inside out. But he was immediately hitting your G-spot. Your moans turned feral and animalistic as you felt indescribable pleasure. 

Your thighs made loud and filthy smacks the harder he clapped your pussy. You gushed on his dick and the sticky suction noise joined the symphony of filth. 

“I’m-I’m-I,” you couldn’t speak.

“That’s okay. You let me worry about that. Don’t you want me to feel it?” 

You nodded and blinked into his eyes. He looked down at you. “Aww, look at you letting me hit this fuckin’ raw. You been such a filthy slut this year,” he said. 

“Shit,” you moaned. 

“You hear how hard I’m beating this shit?” He asked. 

You could only nod. He licked his lips as he looked at your bouncing breasts, barely held in check by the teddy. “Pussy talkin’ hella loud.”

“Oh my god,” you breathed. You were shaking badly now, twisting and writhing beneath him. 

“Mhm, keep talkin’. Keep talkin’ to me.” 

You finally let go, the orgasm wrapping a giant hand around you and squeezed the very breath from your lungs. Your mouth worked, but all you let out was a strangled, incoherent moan. 

“There it is. Ou, feelin’ so fuckin’ good. You such a filthy little slut, ain’t you? Gettin’ dick from Santa this year. Let me hear that pussy screamin’ for me,” he said. 

Your chest continuously caved in as you screamed with pleasure. Screamed to the heavens above that you were getting phenomenal dick that constantly emptied your head of all thoughts. You operated on pure feeling now. The deep, long strong of his dick. The slap of his thighs on yours. His groans and grunts as he watched himself disappear inside of you. 

You shook violently on your way down. You pouted a bit. He didn’t cum. You stuck your bottom lip out and he grinned. He leaned down into the pushup, pressing his lips to yours. He dominated your kiss, running his tongue in a circle around your lips. Then he dived his tongue inside. You still faintly smelled yourself on his breath. 

“You think I’m done with you?” His lips hovered above yours and you whined, wanting to continue kissing him. He lowered but before your lips fully connected, he leaned back. You chased his mouth but he leaned too far away.

You turned puppy dog eyes towards him and stuck out your bottom lip again. He chuckled. He bit your bottom lip and pulled. His hips still worked roughly against you, fucking into you with reckless abandon. 

“You’ve been a naughty girl this year,” he began to kiss down your body. He licked certain parts of your skin, before zeroing in your nipple through your teddy. You hissed and jerked, moving away from it. He held on, getting the fabric wet with his spit. 

“Not even this sweet pussy of yours can make me put you on the nice list,” he said. 

“Shit,” you moaned. You threw your head back as another orgasm tugged on your core. He leaned up and licked this thumb, pressing it against your clit. You growled as your pleasure seemed to ramp higher and go further. You clutched onto his forearms, too weak to say or do anything. 

Your eyes crossed while his thumb furiously worked your clit. “Get that pussy talkin’ again. I ain’t hear her the first time.”

He slipped out of you while you were still shaking from the last orgasm. “Ohhh.” your lips moaned, a desperate echo making your voice warble. Your body twitched beneath him. He just watched as you squirmed. 1 

“How many orgasms does it take to get me to bust?” He asked.

His dirty words were activating a different switch in your mind. You became competitive and pathetic as you gyrated, trying to shove his dick back inside. You wanted his cum and you hated that he turned you into an animal, too fucked out to care about how you looked or what you showed him in your eyes. 

He scooted back and roughly turned you over onto your knees. You flopped around, your arms too weak to help yourself. “Get up on them fuckin’ knees.” 

You whined and whimpered as you slowly got into position. He pushed your thighs further apart with his knees and entered you in one deep thrust.

“Fuck! Baby! Too much!” You pushed your hand back against his broad chest. He slapped your hand away.

“Nuh-uh, move that hand,” he said. 

“Too much, Daddy!” You screamed. His strokes were hitting the deepest part of you and you were screaming the national anthem for all you knew. 

“Oh! I’m Daddy now?” He asked. 

“Daddy, please!” You whined. You slammed your ass on his dick with his help. His hand smacked your ass with such force that you fell back from the recoil. 

“Fuck! Look at that shit go,” he grunted. Your hand pushed against his body again.

“Move that fuckin’ hand, now!” 

Your wails were grating on your own nerves. You moved your arm. “You know what I wanna hear if you want me to stop,” he said. 

No, you didn’t want to use that word. The minute you did, he would stop and want to check in with you. You didn’t want words now. You didn’t want to reason and explain yourself. You just wanted to blow your hip out. 

You gripped the sheets beneath you and held on. “Yeah, that’s right. Good girls listen to Santa,” he said. 

You gripped his dick and rode him like your life depended on it. He landed a few more smacks to your ass. “Watching this ass shake, hmm, I’m ready to bust. You think this one gon’ be it?” 

You drooled onto the bed as your orgasm crested once more, putting pressure on your lower belly, and gripping him tighter. You bit the blanket beneath you as you groaned. Your eyes rolled and eyelids fluttered. 

“Hmm, don’t she talk so pretty,” he moaned. 

He grunted as he finally spilled inside of you. Fuck, there was so much of it. You worried briefly if you wouldn’t get fucking pregnant off of this. You were meticulous about your birth control and you weren’t ovulating.

But you could believe it if you ended up pregnant off of this dick tonight. If he had some type of magic dick that got you pregnant with a single thought. He fucked his cum into you, plugging you full of it. 

“Goddamn it, baby girl,” he grunted. His leg shook as the final pulse pushed into you deeper. 

He retreated slowly. His cum immediately pushed out in a thick, creamy wad. You groaned as it slid down your pussy and dripped beneath you. You wouldn’t be able to look at bear rugs the same. 

“Shit,” he panted. He spread your ass cheeks so that he could watch himself leak out of you. 

“Might fuck around and give you some kids, baby girl. Would you like that? You want my baby?” He asked.

He rubbed your ass as he continued to watch his cum leak from your body. You probably looked like a stuffed donut.

“Nahh, not yet. I’m not done spoiling you,” he said. 

You sniveled as tears ran down your cheeks. You were so full of love for this man. How he always took care of you and pampered you. You didn’t have to lift a finger when he was around. It was so intoxicating. You feared that one day you truly would let him spoil you and not give two shits.

He wiped your tears away and brought it to his lips. He moaned when he sucked your tears off. “Fuck, baby girl. You wanted some more dick, this is how you ask,” he said. 

He entered you again and you cried out. You fell face forward onto the blanket, your face facing the hearth. Heat waves warmed your face instantly. The light cast long rays in your vision as it swam with tears and bliss. 

Your fingers were too weak to properly hold onto the blanket. Your cheek rubbed against the damp spot from your spit. 

“She got somethin’ more to say, huh?” Santa asked. 

You nodded and moaned as your wails reached a new crescendo. You gripped his dick again, sucking him deep into your body. 

Santa moved his left hand to palm your scalp. He flexed his fingers and pulled your hair back. His right hand smacked your ass once and then he was pushing it into your anus. “Oh shit!” You moaned. 

“I’m gonna have to bring you more of these from the North Pole, baby girl,” he said. 

“I bought two of every color,” you said.

His hips snapped forward as he unloaded again inside of you. Hot splashes of his cum pushed against your G-spot and you cried out, sinking onto his dick with a powerful, gut-wrenching, mind-blowing orgasm that twisted you like a pretzel and folded you like a bagel. 

He lazily continued to fuck into you as he groaned and spent every ounce left in his balls. He leaned forward and bit your shoulder. 

“Damn, baby, thank you,” he whispered and kissed behind your ear. You were too fucked out to respond. You just softly moaned. 

He dropped a kiss to your cheek and you felt him smile against it.

“Wait till you see what I do to you on New Year’s.”

If you liked this, then you simply must know about Mr. Black! Masterlist

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace-2

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic.Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, tell me if I missed any

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics and @s-silk

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious

Word count: 2,8k

Masterlist

Part 1~Part 3

"What? Am I hearing this right? The Carlos Sainz, famous Ferrari Formula One driver approached you, in an alleyway, during your smoke break and paid you three hundred euros to hide in a cramped bathroom with you.” One of your best friends from high school screams into your ear. You can’t help but cringe, hearing exactly just how famous he is. You blow the smoke from your cigarette and gaze out across your balcony.  

You wish you could say the view is beautiful, with the Eiffel Tower in the background with music of the people in the background. It’s none of that though. The view is another apartment block, and you so wished the man on the balcony would close the curtains. You avoid the balcony in the fear of getting treated to a view of his wrinkled body. How you wish you didn’t have to deal with the gross apartment building.  

“Um...Yes...?” You reply, not really sure what to say. “Not only that, Jasmine, but he then gave her his number and said he would make sure he would see her again!” Your other best friend, Ilsa, on the group call squeals out. You facepalm, knowing they can’t see you, but still, your embarrassment is uncontainable. “What are you going to say?” Jas asks, you can already hear her plotting.  

Your silence says a thousand words. “You are going to text him, right?” Ilsa clarifies and they go quiet only to hear your sigh. “What would I say? Hi, mister million-dollar man, I really liked being cramped in a bathroom with you, and would love to do it again!” You scoff at the ridiculousness of it all and take another puff from your cig. “I mean...” Jas says but you quickly shoot the idea down.  

“Okay, okay, how about this? Address the elephant in the room. Tell him you googled him and then ask him what exactly he wants with you.” Ilsa suggests and it actually doesn’t sound that bad. Your stomach rumbles and as you open the fridge door you can’t help but sigh. Some old cabbage, one egg and a pack of cheap tomato sauce. Another hungry night.  

“Yeah, so that you can be prepared if he just wants a quick fuck!” Jas calls out and again you can’t help but cringe. “Jasmine!” You yell out, glad they can’t see you blush. Even that wouldn’t be so bad. It’s been weeks since someone touched you with any sort of kind intent. Much less how close you two were today. 

 You’d already given the full three hundred euros to your landlord. He just scowled asking where the rest of it is. Not to mention, the electricity is threatening to shut off. Along with the student loans, water bills, phone bills, and insurance, everything is piling up and you feel like you can’t pick up enough shifts to survive.  

I hear her groan, “Come on, Y/N, this could be a really great opportunity for you.” This time it’s Ilsa encouraging you. She’s right, maybe a little distraction from life is just what you need. Not to mention you’d do anything to look at that handsome face of his one more time. The photos and videos online don’t even come close. He’s so much more even just being near him makes you want to beg him to hold you.  

“Fine, but if he gave me a fake number, I’ll ignore you guys for a week.” It’s an empty threat as always. “Yes, of course, as expected.” Jas’ voice is dripping in sarcasm. “I’ve got to go, je vous aime les gars, au revoir.” Ilsa says goodbye, and with that, the call ends. Dinner, wouldn’t that be such a good idea? You open your banking up only to see but a meek two hundred left for the end of the month.  

While you’re on your phone, you might as well text him...right? 

Y/N: I assume you wanted me to google you when you gave me your real name?  

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: And, do I live up to the pictures?  

Y/N: No, you’re much shorter in real life 

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: A dagger in my heart! 

Y/N: 😝  

Y/N: I’m glad you didn’t give me a fake number then. But I can’t help but ask what exactly it is you want with me?  

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: How about this: I’ll explain it all to you on our first date 

Y/N: You intrigue me... 

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: When do you get off from work, tomorrow?  

Y/N: I work the morning, until lunch tomorrow. So I’m free from 16:00 

Carlos Sainz 🌶️: Send me your address, and I’ll pick you up at 18:00. Wear something nice.  

What on earth am I thinking? He could kidnap me! And yet you find yourself in front of your closet picking the one nice dress you bought for your first interview. It’s a simple black, form-fitting on the top but flares at the bottom with frills on the sleeves. It looks so boring to wear on a date with someone like him, but it’s all you have. 

 Along with the only heels you have, once more plain black chunky pumps. Your hair lays right below your shoulders in your natural waves and curls.

You can’t help but groan at your situation and throw a pack of cigarettes into your handbag. It’s a bad habit, you know and everyone around you has told you so many times to stop. But it’s so hard to when living in France and not only that it’s the only thing that seems to help.  

You finish it off with a red lip, hoping to add a slight bit of colour to the dull outfit. Not that you have much time to think of something else, at exactly six, there is a knock on the door. With your heart in your ears, you open the door to Carlos holding a bouquet of pink tulips. 

Not only that but he looks ravishing in black dress pants and a dress shirt, but of course with the sleeves rolled up. You bite your lip, already wanting to jump his bones.  

That tan skin of his has you imagining him, shirtless under the hot summer sun on a Mediterranean beach somewhere. Not only that but his hair seems to fall perfectly in place. So soft and silky and voluminous. Your hand twitches, wanting to rake through his inky black strands and then, of course, ask him about his hair-care routine.  

“How did you know these are my favourites?” You ask, walking inside and placing them in the sink before returning to him. He shrugs, “I have my ways. But enough about that. Querida, you look enchanting.” He takes your hand and guides you to a spin, showing off all of you. Your dress flows and his touch is like fire lighting in your body.  

“Really? I hope it’s fancy enough, it’s all I own, and I don’t really have the money to buy something right now.” You say with a blush coating your cheeks. Why would you tell him that? Now he’s going to think you want him to buy you a new dress. Or maybe you’re only going on the date because you know who he is.  

“Of course, niña bonita, I’m honoured to have such a pretty lady on my arm.” He then takes your hand and helps you down the stairs. And his words cause a blush on the tips of your ears. He helps you all the way to his fire-red Ferrari. “Woah....” You can’t help but utter out, you’ve never been so close to such an expensive car and the fear of breaking it looms in the back of your mind. 

“You like, niña bonita? Comes with the job, of course.” He winks and then opens the door for you, which of course opens upwards. You can’t help but let out a playful scoff, “Duh, of course!” He chuckles at your reaction. “You must tell me if I’m going too fast, no? I like speed of course.” His wink shoots electricity through your skin, not only that but that breath taking smile of his. 

 You don’t have a licence, you never needed one living in France all your life. Even in the smaller town where you grew up, you could walk everywhere. And yet the way he speeds down the freeway causes a thrill to tickle your toes.

Every time he switches the gears, his forearm muscles flex and you have to control yourself. Not to mention, he doesn’t even have road rage, every move, every turn, every gear shift is as smooth as can be.  

If it wasn’t for your culinary degree you’re certain you wouldn’t have understood anything on the menu. Even so, you’d been eyeing this place for a while and some of them you’re still unsure how to pronounce. What shocks you the most is the prices, some things on the menu are half the price of your rent. “What do you think of getting?” He asks, leaning back in his seat. “Um...the breadsticks?” He looks over his menu and raises his brow.  

“The breadsticks are free?” He clarifies, those luscious brows of his furrow in confusion and you nod with a smile. You try not to show him how nervous a fancy place like this makes you. And also how you yearn to be at home in a place like this. “Yes.” He sighs, “Niña terca, I am paying, pick what you want.” That actually makes you feel even worse.  

“Oh, no, it’s alright you don’t have to. I brought my wallet.” You reply, clutching your purse as a reminder. “It is not up for discussion.” He replies, going back to the wine list he’s holding. The guilt shoots through you. You desperately need to accept the money but stil your mother’s manners creep up on you. “Then the...salad.” He rolls his eyes and takes your menu and closes it for you. 

 You go to protest, but he calls over the waiter before you can. “The lady will have the Salmon Meuniere and I shall have the steak. With the Chilled Pinot Noir.” Again, he chooses your favourite option. “How did you....” As if he knows exactly what you’re about to ask, he just shrugs, “We must have similar taste.” 

The fact of these two choices being so similar doesn’t make you suspicion. Instead, it makes you feel warm and at home almost. How similar are you two already, and how much more can fall into place? You eye him, raising your brow as he too studies you. “What is it, estimada. You want to say something.” He guides with his hand to open up the conversation.  

“How do you know?” You ask, in awe of how much detail he sees. He chuckles and then leans forward and smooths out the area around your eyes by your temples. “You get this crinkle, when you are holding something back. I noticed it yesterday.” You can’t help but blush and cover your face.

“It’s my job, estimada. To notice the small things, in the car, in the track, in the ladies I like.” His words are smooth like butter and those dark eyes of his stare you down.  

The waiter comes and pours your wine and places down your food. You take a sip from the cool beverage. “You owe me an explanation.” You shrug, the only response you give. Not trusting your throat. His jaw locks tight and he leans in a bit closer to you. He bites down on the juicy steak and the way his jaw muscle flexes causes obscene thoughts to fly through you.  

“What I tell you next is not to be known by anyone besides you and me. Let’s put it like so, my managers believe that I should, how you say, casarse ya.” He switches to Spanish so easily. You have no idea what he said but merely nod along. All while savouring the taste of the perfectly cooked salmon and expensive wine that pairs so well.  

“I turn 34 next year, one of the oldest on the grid. They believe that I should stop wasting my time and just settle down already. My publicist also believes it would get more sponsors and boost my public image. So, I am coming to you with an offer.” I raise my brow; I knew this would be too good to be true.  

I should have known that someone like him wouldn’t bother getting close to someone like me. Clearly only there to entertain the people as always. Does he want pity points from his fans? Embracing a poor Frenchwoman from the slums. Doing some sort of charity work? I cross my arms and lean back; I can tell that he sees me retracting from the conversation entirely.  

But still, I allow him to continue. “I will pay you, any amount you wish, shopping, jewels, vacations, even something more practical like the rent or student bills. In return, you pretend to be my long-term girlfriend. You come with me to the races, show up in the paddock, and tag along in interviews. The whole deal.” He bites those plump lips of his and now you wish he’d be more hideous.  

For once he actually looks a bit nervous. You can’t help but scoff and roll your eyes at this. “So...like a sugar daddy situation...?” He senses your resentment towards the idea and is careful to reply. “I suppose so,” his eyes seem to panic and you can’t believe your ears.

You grab your purse, “I can’t believe you, Carlos! I thought I’d finally met a decent well-off guy, but no. Ces foutus garçons. Je ne peux jamais faire confiance aux hommes. Jamais!”  

You can’t help but switch to your native language. The translator in your mind fails due to your anger and you can feel tears prick in the walls of your eyes. With your purse in hand, you push your seat back and in a rage go to leave. But suddenly you’re forced back down onto your chair by Carlos’ firm grasp on your wrist.  

“¡Siéntate, niña testaruda, y escucha!” His translator too, is out the window. You pout and cross your arms, shocked at his audacity. “Listen here, and listen well, little girl, because I can clearly see you are in desperate need of some discipline. Mocoso.” He leans over you and the way he speaks with such a demanding voice makes your core ache. And yet you can’t help but want to defy him more.  

He sits down again but is clearly ready to catch again if needed. He then grabs you by the chin and makes sure you look him into those swirling brown eyes. So dangerous and ready to attack if need be. “I can see it in your eyes, dollface. I can see it in the way you eye the Porche that passes, the Louis Vuitton handbag in the window and the most expensive item on the menu.” 

Has your eye really been wandering so much? Or is his attention to detail so fine-tuned? If it weren’t for his hand clasping your chin, you’d long since would’ve looked away. “You have champagne taste and I’m giving you the whole vineyard. Don’t make another stupid choice and accept the offer. I won’t ask again.”  

His voice is strong and commanding and the way he speaks makes you want to get down on your knees and open your mouth for him. He lets go of your jaw, allowing you to speak. “And if I want something more?” You ask and can’t help but dial up the charm fluttering your dark lashes. He smirks watching you go from bratty to begging.  

“I can feel the chemistry too, estimada and I can see the need burning behind those eyes of yours. If this were to become something more, then so be it. And if you want this to be a quick fling and your intro into the limelight, then so be it. And if you want it to only be an exchange of money and appearance, so be it too.” He shrugs, watching your reaction to each option.  

Then he turns serious again. “That all can be decided later. What must be decided now, is whether you’ll join me or not. I must apologize that I can’t give you much time to think about it, I have an early flight tomorrow. You’ll have to join me.” I furrow my brows, I thought he had the whole week? Anyways a choice must be made....  

My taglist is open! If you wish to be tagged in this story alone, please comment or reblog with the words 'tag'. And if you wish to be tagged in all my posts please comment or reblog with the words 'tag all'.

[luveline]

can I request more bodyguard James? he’s just the cutest and I’m happy to read anything about it!!

thank you for your request! you and James go shopping and get mistaken for a couple ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

James looks like your boyfriend, sometimes. There are moments that he deems low risk in your life where he won't wear his radio or his utility belt, opting instead for plain black civilian clothing. In those moments, you aren't proud of yourself for doing so, but you like to pretend he is your boyfriend. 

He's looking through broccoli's for you. You hadn't asked him to. His hands sift through huge trees until he's found the most vibrant, holding it up for your inspection. 

"Perfect," you praise, opening your small paper bag so he can drop it inside with the rest of your hand-picked veggies.

The only thing left on your list is extra virgin olive oil, but you don't want to go home yet. You like the way people look at you and James when you're together,  awed and a little jealous. They might wonder how you nabbed a man like him, and of course you haven't nabbed him at all. That's your secret to keep. 

You meander down the vegetable aisle, your eyes skipping over snap peas and cabbages, bags of wonky carrots and parsnips. James grabs a bag of rooster potatoes before you can stretch over the crates for them. 

"Gotta wake up earlier in the morning to beat me, angel," he says. 

"I don't think I could." 

James wakes up at 3AM every morning, if he's to be believed. It makes sense. He wakes up, does bits around the flat, works out, has breakfast, and is waiting smiley and bright-eyed when you emerge from your room at 6:30. You're never as put together as he is, usually in your nightgown or one of those matching pyjama sets that make him look you up and down (though you both pretend he doesn't). 

No matter how bleary your vision is, it's impossible to miss the way he smiles at you every single day, like you're the sun coming up over the horizon. His pretty brown eyes squint, his thick crop of eyelashes threading together at their corners, and he says some warm variation of, "Morning, princess. Is it me or did you get prettier while I was gone?" 

"We could try it out. Of course, if you wake up at three, I'll have to start waking up at midnight," he says now. 

"I don't know how you do it," you say. Your voice is softened by genuine admiration. 

"I get to see you. Makes it easy." 

He's flirting, but with James you can never make out where the line is. Does he want you to flirt back? Does he want you to want him? You'd say without hesitation that James is your best friend in the whole world. He'd say without hesitation that his best friend is actually a duo, Sirius and Remus. That makes it hard. 

But it's okay. You don't need anything more than this: his hand on your shoulder guiding you across the aisle to the fresh fruit punnets, the smell of his cologne a familiar treat. 

You pick up a couple of things you like, mostly stuff you know you can convince James to share. He likes oranges best, so you grab a bag of huge ones and drop them in your basket with the veggies. It's getting heavy. You can practically see James' holding in an offer to carry it for you.

You're somewhere in the spreads and grains aisle when an older lady approaches you, or rather James, tapping him on the elbow gently.

"Hey, hun, you couldn't help me reach something?" 

"I'd be happy to!" he says cheerily. 

"Thanks so much. I've never been very tall, and every year I seem to shrink. It's just over here." 

James legally isn't supposed to stray from your side, so he threads his hand under your upper arm and pulls you with him. 

The elderly woman points to a box bragging organic, dehydrated strips of applesauce. "It's those right there if it's no trouble for you, hun." 

"No, of course not." 

James grabs her box with little to no effort expended. He doesn't even need to go on toes. 

"God, he's so tall," the elderly lady says to you. 

"He's super tall," you echo, your sunny talking-to-strangers voice in play. 

"And very handsome. You're a lovely couple." 

You fall into silence with your lips parted, not sure what to say. It isn't worth correcting and potentially embarrassing her for a harmless assumption, especially when you like that she thinks it, but you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of James by looking to eager. 

"She's the lovely one," James says, offering the applesauce with a huge beaming smile. 

She presses her hand to her collar, basket proffered until James places the applesauce carefully on top of a punnet of plums and a TV magazine. 

"Thank you," she says. "Getting old's no fun when you're short. And my husband was even shorter than I am! You hold on to this one, love, you never know when you'll need something from a tall shelf."

You and James laugh in a mirrored delight at her easy-going joking, his hand falling against the top of your shoulder, fingers spread and clasping. You swear, heat radiates like the sun from his touch alone. 

"I'm holding on about as tightly as I can," James says, "she couldn't get rid of me if she wanted to." 

You look at him, startled, and meet his earnest gaze. "I don't want to. I don't think I'll ever want to." 

James smiles. 

The elderly woman nods like this is something she'd suspected. 

"Good. You're a perfect pair," she says.

James rubs the space between your shoulders affectionately while he finally steals the heavy shopping basket from over your arm. You're too flustered from his touch to kick up a fuss. 

"I've been thinking the same thing," he says. 

[ghouljams]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C0PJoQ5oUFk/?igshid=ODhhZWM5NmIwOQ==

My first thoughts were that's so Love coded. She would definitely dress cabbage and ghost like that, just for laughs. It's so cute though!!

AAAAAAH IT IS!!!!

You pull the little sherpa lined coat tighter around your baby's bitty shoulders, fix her little hat, and kiss her tiny hands to warm them up before wrestling mittens onto her. She babbles excitedly, kicking her feet when you try to slide her shoes on. You look to Simon for help, and he raises a brow. Of course that's all the curious protest you get before he's beside you, cooing at his daughter and holding her pudgy little leg to cram her baby shoe on. She gums at her mitten with a smile, wiggling when his big hands wrap around her middle to pick her up.

Simon bounces her against his hip, his sweet affections spoken low. He kisses her cheek and she turns eagerly to try and eat his face. Wiggling her head to drag her open mouth against his cheek. Simon retaliates, of course, by holding the back of her head and kissing all over her tiny face as he dips her back. If you asked anyone what sort of father they thought Simon would be, you doubt they'd guess how absolutely doting he is. A monster of a man wearing the same jumper and knit cap as his baby. All match-y so you can take pictures of moments just like this.

"You're so cute," You whine, forgetting to take a photo in favor of wrapping your arms around Simon and leaning into him. He pulls Carmilla up against his shoulder and hooks his arm around your waist, holding your hip to hug you against his side. You tilt your head so he can kiss your cheek, laughing at the wet mark you're sure he's leaving.

"Come on ya big babies," He hauls you both towards the door as you scramble to grab the stroller, "Let's get your Father Christmas photo before you start whimperin'." You really don't know if he's talking to you or the baby, but he's right. As long as you're all dressed up you might as well get some holiday card photos.

[toomuchracket]

angsty part two hmm. well maybe it can have something to do with whatever the heck was going on at electric umbrella studios. maybe girly is there helping out bea (we can pretend maybe she’s doing stuff with jack and not matty for ease of everyone’s heart lmao) then there is that little listening party or whatever where taylor and matty are seen together but maybe girly’s heart couldnt stand to stick around for very long so she leaves early. maybe in this dream matty pulls his head out of his ass and decides he will do anything and be anything that girly wants him to be because this thing with taylor is not doing it for him either

ok! edited the request slightly. and it doesn't have a happy ending because actually i'm a messy bitch who lives for drama. please note: THIS ISN'T ACTUALLY CANON IN THE D WORD UNIVERSE IT'S JUST A COLLECTIVE NIGHTMARE. ok. lol. happy new year. enjoy <3

gone four weeks, part 2 (d word matty x reader angst)

“oh my god, hi! you came! oh, thank you so much!” taylor pulls you into a hug, which you reciprocate warmly; you've no problem with her, after all. “and you look amazing! your hair! those shoes! it's a new look for you. i like it.”

you smile. “thank you, i just fancied a bit of a change. and thank you for inviting me! i was so touched when i got your message.”

“matty said it was your favourite of my albums - i couldn't not have you here.”

what the fuck?

“oh, he did?” you try to keep your face and voice steady. “that was nice of him.”

taylor nods. “it was the first thing he said when i first wondered if anyone would even come to a 1989 listening party - you would, if you were around. thank god margaret ran into you last week and told me you were!”

you murmur a “yeah”, in response, too busy reeling from the sudden emotional pain in your heart to reply properly. blinking a couple of times, you look back towards the front door of the studio to see more people coming in. “taylor, i'll catch up with you later, yeah? let you speak to… oh my god, i'm at the same party as kendrick lamar? fucking hell.”

she laughs, squeezing your arm. “no worries, babe. i'll see you later! matty’s… somewhere, if you want to catch up with him”.

not bloody likely. “cool. see you!”

you smile politely at kendrick, who returns it (!!), before heading off into the busy room. there are people you recognise absolutely everywhere you turn, but nobody you really know, more just celebrities you'd be worried about embarrassing yourself in front of. no sign of jack, or margaret, or even matty - not that you particularly want to see him, to be honest, but a familiar face (one not from your tv screen, that is) would definitely calm you down.

of course, so would a cigarette.

pulling your cigs and lighter from your bag, you nudge the side door open with your hip and step out into the alleyway and still-warm evening air. and then, almost immediately, you wish you hadn't. because, standing with his back to you - although that makes no difference, you'd know those back muscles and that head of hair anywhere - is matty, talking to jack and margaret, all three of them smoking.

fuck. this was an awful idea. but you can't turn back to go inside now, because jack's clocked you; he’s beaming, waving at you, shouting “sprout! get over here and smoke with us!”

despite yourself, you smile, wandering over and allowing yourself to be enveloped in a hug from the man and his fiancée. “wish you'd stop bloody calling me that, jack.”

“never,” jack replies, kissing your head as he releases you into margaret's arms. “you're sprout, and he's cabbage.”

“whatever - hi, mags,” you kiss your friend's cheek as she breaks apart and settles her arm around your waist, before reluctantly meeting your ex's gaze. you're irritated to see that he looks good. like, really good, something-twinging-between-your-legs good. get a grip! “matthew.”

“alright?” matty smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “almost didn't recognise you. hair's shorter.”

you shrug. “wanted something different.”

“sounds like you.”

the snide comment slices through you. unlike last time, though, you don't tear up; you fire right back at him. “well, i'm at an age where i can afford to experiment.”

matty frowns, while jack and margaret burst into giggles. the latter kisses the side of your head. “god, you’re funny. i can't believe you were in the city all this time and you didn't tell us! i miss hanging out with you.”

“i was busy,” you place a cigarette between your lips, shaking hands trying and failing to successfully operate the lighter. matty wordlessly steps forward and does it for you - your cheeks burn as much as the cig does. “thank you.”

“don't,” matty waves it off, taking a long drag of his own cig before looking at you again. “so. you haven't been back home?”

“not since the last time you saw me,” you ash the cig, pointedly looking down at the ground. “there hasn't been any work for me to do, so there's nothing keeping me there, really.”

matty scoffs. “typical, you prioritising your job.”

“well, it's what you pay me for. you should be happy i care so much about my career, really, matty,” you smile, saccharine as summer peaches, before turning to jack and margaret. “anyway, how's wedding planning going?”

jack breaks into an excited soliloquy that you can only half focus on, hoping you're timing the oohing and aahing and awwing at his fiancée’s enthusiastic interjections right; most of your attention, you hate to say, is focused on the man opposite you, clearly - to you, at least - upset. the familiar guilt begins to gnaw at your ribcage, and you're thankful when margaret checks her watch and begins to usher you back inside.

matty, though, has other ideas. he touches your elbow, so lightly you barely feel it, and yet your body reacts as if he's punched you. “can i talk to you alone for a minute?”

panicked, you turn towards jack, who nods. “you still have a few minutes. i just need to go in to set up. see you in there!”

shit.

once you're alone with your ex, you move to brace yourself against the wall, folding your arms. “what?”

“why didn't you tell me you were in new york?”

“why would i?”

“well,” matty's voice falters; when he speaks again, it's almost a whisper. “i don't know. maybe we could've, like, gone for a drink. or you could've come down here to hang out.”

“again, why would i?” you tilt your head. “no offence, mate, but hanging out with my ex and his new girlfriend isn't exactly my idea of a fun time. or just hanging out with my ex full stop.”

“thanks for that,” matty grimaces.

you sigh. “look, i know you well enough to be able to read your cryptic fucking subtext. i've been alright, matty, i really have. i've been with friends.”

“you don't have any friends in new york.”

“and how the fuck would you know that? honest to fucking god,” you snap. “i didn't tell you everything about me…”

“i know that well enough.”

“...but, if you must know, one of my friends from home opened an exhibition in tribeca. orla.”

matty nods. “we went to her london opening together before… us, didn't we?”

the memory feels distant, as if from another life, but it hurts all the same. “yeah.”

“i would've liked to have gone to her show here, too. she's good.”

you smile genuinely for the first time, pride for your friend stronger than the fucked up pot of feelings you have towards matty. “it was really something. i helped set it up, actually. was fun.”

“really?” matty laughs; something cracks inside you when he does. “yeah, i can see you being good at that, actually.”

you look at the ground, still smiling, but less now. “been thinking about switching to it full-time. curation and stuff.”

“oh,” matty sounds crestfallen. you peek up at him to find that he looks it, too. “well… if that's what you want to do, i s'pose you should look into it,” he checks the time on his phone, while your heart sinks impossibly deeper. “it's starting soon. i'll head in now, and then if you-”

“wait thirty seconds before i follow you? yeah, i know the drill,” you smile lifelessly. “least you won't have to worry about that if i get a new job, yeah? you'll likely never have to see me again, let alone risk being seen with me.”

“i- anyway,” matty clears his throat, turning quickly away from you. “i should go.”

“okay,” the door closes behind him before you can even get the second syllable out, and there you are, alone again, in the suddenly-cold night air. you shakily exhale your cigarette for the last time, stubbing it out on the wall and stamping the butt with your high heel for good measure; once no trace of the flame remains, you go back inside.

for the rest of the night, part of you wishes you hadn't bothered. while hearing your favourite album is truly, genuinely brilliant, the experience is marred somewhat by your ex sitting in the seat opposite yours with taylor's head on his shoulder: you can't quite lipsync along to this love or clean or you are in love without your lips beginning to tremble, the new song now that we don't talk genuinely makes you nauseous when you figure out the lyrics, and actually hearing matty's voice on a vault track is painful beyond words.

but still, you clap, you fake smiles, you cheer for taylor and jack and the work they've put into the production. it's not easy, though, and you're thankful for the distraction when your phone buzzes with an invitation while you're alone at the drinks table grabbing another champagne.

“now i know you're not about to entertain a man who sent you an i miss you, come over text,” taylor’s voice sounds scandalised from behind you.

you turn, grinning, smile dropping slightly when you see she isn’t alone. “don't worry, i'm taking the piss out of him for it as we speak…”

“good.”

“...but i am gonna go and see him, in a minute,” you finish, looking down at your phone and giggling when you see a reply. “if that's alright, that is.”

matty raises his eyebrows the way he does before he opens his mouth, but taylor beats him to it. “look at you giggling at him! of course! go! but first,” she gently drags you to a nearby sofa and settles onto it, patting the seat beside her; you take it, while matty awkwardly settles himself on a footstool in front of you both. “tell me about him.”

“you really want to know?” you aren't quite sure which of them the question is directed at. taylor nods, and judging by matty's expression he's also curious, so you sigh and keep talking. “well, his name is michael. he's a playwright. we met through friends. he's lived in new york his whole life. he seems slightly obsessed with me, but in a good way - so far, at least. he's very sweet.”

“a playwright? that's cool,” taylor grins. “what does he look like?”

“a bit like andrew garfield, actually,” you laugh, looking down at your phone again. “and he's offering to meet me at a bar, so it's probably time for me to be on my way.”

“sure. have fun, stay safe,” she pulls you into a hug; you see matty wince, out of the corner of your eye. “thank you so much for coming. when do you go back home?”

“not until the end of the month. i don't know if i'm actually going on the festival run, yet,” you shrug. “but i'll go home before it, just in case.”

“it's a lot, isn't it?”

taylor, babe, you don't even know the half of it. “yeah. it won't be easy.”

she hums. “we should hang out before you go. nothing crazy, just dinner or drinks or something. like, something fun, before you have to go back to keeping a record label running,” she nudges matty, who smiles quickly but continues looking at the floor. “i'll call you, okay?”

“that sounds good,” you stretch. “right, i really should go - the bar is a twenty-minute walk from here and i said i'd meet michael in fifteen.”

matty tuts. “he's knowingly letting you walk alone to meet him at half ten at night? no. absolutely not.”

you roll your eyes. “for god's sake, i'll be fine. i'm an adult!”

“yeah, babe, but still,” taylor’s eyes are wide. “take a car! for our peace of mind, at least.”

our. you do your best not to shudder, and smile instead. “if you're sure…”

“she's sure,” matty nods. “get it to take you back to your… whatever it is you're staying in after your drink, too.”

“i mean, i'm going back to his,” you look matty dead in the eye when you say it, and the sadness that fills his is impossible to miss. christ, what is his deal? “but thanks. anyway,” you hug taylor before you stand. “thanks again for tonight. i'll see you soon,” you nod at matty. “and i'll… see you at finsbury, definitely. maybe sooner. i don't know. there'll be an email soon confirming what's happening. bye.”

much to your chagrin, matty stands too. “i'll walk you out. make sure you actually get in the car - i know what you're like.”

for fuck's sake. “alright. bye, taylor!” you wave as you move towards the door.

“bye, babe!”

you walk quickly through the corridors, trying to keep some distance between you and matty. annoyingly, though, he matches your pace, and speaks. “so… michael.”

the vitriol practically drips from his tongue. you scoff. “what about him?”

“tell me more about him. what’s he like?”

“he's my age,” you pointedly don’t look at matty when you say that, but you hear the way his breath catches in his throat. the guilt begins gnawing again; you keep talking to distract yourself from it. “he's ridiculously american, which means he doesn't get my sense of humour sometimes, but as soon as he found out i lived in london he took the piss and started calling me ‘princess’.”

the word leaves your mouth before you can stop it; as soon as it does, you bite the insides of your lips together, guilt spreading to every bone in your body. tentatively, you look round at matty, who's stopped walking in favour of looking at the ground and clasping his hands behind his neck. everything about him radiates hurt, and it only worsens when he quietly speaks. “he calls you what?”

you can't bring yourself to say it again. “you heard me, matty.”

“wish i fucking hadn't,” your ex looks up at you again, and you know he's about to verbally lash out; he looks exactly the same as he did before you split. “you really let him call you that? my name for you?”

“think you lost all rights to that the day you dumped me, to be honest, mate.”

“fucking hate it when you call me that. stop it.”

“well, i'm sure as shit not going to resort to what i used to call you, am i?”

matty laughs mirthlessly. it's the worst sound you've ever heard. “no, you've got michael for that now.”

“no, i haven't,” you're loathe to admit what you're about to say, but you really want him to feel bad. “haven't slept with him yet - or anyone, for that matter, since you broke up with me,” you glance at matty, who looks rightfully sheepish, and decide to just fuck with him even further. “but maybe i will tonight. s'about time i felt good about myself.”

“you know, you've been really fucking snide today. i don't know what i've done to deserve it.”

you stop dead in your tracks, turning to face him in total bewilderment. “well, aside from the whole, y'know, dumping me at the first sign of disagreement, you fucking started it with the arsey comments today, matty. sounds like you? fuck off.”

he shrugs. “but it does. you don't want what i want, so… why bother keeping this going?”

you huff, pushing the door to the staircase open. “i never said i didn't want to get married and have kids, by the way.”

“what? yes you-”

“no, i didn't,” you smile sadly. “all i said was that i was unsure, and because it wasn't me immediately saying yes to something for the first time in our relationship, you took it as a no.”

matty's shaking his head. “no, that-that's not-”

“yes it is, sweetheart,” the tears are beginning to prick at your eyes; matty's too, you can see. “that's what happened.”

“but you freaked out so much…”

“because you sprung it on me, out of the blue! come on, matty,” you can feel your jaw trembling. “you would've done the same, if a partner had asked you that question when you were my age.”

matty sniffles. “please stop bringing up the age gap, darling.”

the pet name enrages you; it's agonising how natural it sounds coming from his lips, and even more painful how automatically your body reacts to it. “well, i can't not, given that it's what fucked us up, in the end,” you take a deep breath, and walk out the side door onto the street. it's fairly quiet, you're relieved to see. “besides - i thought you liked it? that was my appeal, wasn't it? being young, and pretty, and naive, so fucking naive. a meek little toy, something you could play with however you wanted without fear of it rebelling against what you wanted. because that's really all that matters, isn't it, what you want? course it is, because when that was threatened, you stopped wanting me.”

hot tears are hitting your cheeks with increasing speed, but your voice somehow stays strong, unwavering, controlled; the same can't be said for matty, who's crying just as much as you. “no, no, that's not true, not at all, please don't say that.”

“but that's what it feels like,” your voice cracks into a sob. “you didn't even want to talk to me about it. you were just... fine with letting me go. i didn't think you could ever be so cruel to someone you claim to have loved, once, matty. especially not someone who loves you as much as i do,” sniffling, you wipe your eyes and open a car door, quickly telling the driver the address of the bar before turning back to matty. “i appreciate you getting taylor to invite me tonight, but i think it was a mistake; we can't be friends, you and i, we really can't. i'm sorry, it just… hurts,” you check the time. “i need to go. take care.”

it's too warm in the car. you roll the window down slightly. you can hear matty crying from halfway down the street.

[hellsslibrary]

✧･ﾟ:* NSFW Alphabet with Deuce Spade *:･ﾟ✧

DNI : minors.

#a.n. : ahem, I wanted to warn you that there will be something unreal in all these headcanons, just because this is the world of fairy tales, lol (I can give anyone an 8 foot cock and what will you do to me, like nothing).

!!Warnings : sub!bottom!Deuce, praise kink, kink for size difference, oral sex, soft sex, sub/dom dynamic, scar reference, romance, male reader.

Ace <————«« Deuce »»————> Cater

Heartslabyul. Deuce Spade.

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is the most tired boy in the world after sex. He lies all sweaty, fucked and tired, looking at you with his red eyes from tears. So this time, you have to take care of him forever. Finally praise him, tell him that he is a good boy, give him water, wash him and so on. He will appreciate it anyway.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He definitely likes yours hands (especially in the biceps area), and more if you have muscles there. It just turns him on that someone so strong (or just a little bit) is fucking him like this right now.

His favorite body part in itself is probably his mouth. What? He can suck you, kiss you, moan for you. Anything.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He finishes a little. Although his sperm looks quite thick. It is probably darker than normal semen, but nothing more unusual is imperceptible.

As for you, he doesn't care where you end up. Though he definitely prefers it to be his mouth or hole. Just because it looks and feels hot, literally and figuratively.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He always dreamed of a partner who is somehow right. Like imagine that he is dating someone correct, diligent and polite. Everyone adore him because he is so kind and caring. But he would like to see this man change beyond recognition behind closed doors, fucking him like his personal whore. (Although in a gentle way, he is still a softie. It simply implies that the reader is a pervert.)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He... Just the embodiment of innocence. He still thought that storks bring babies, they appear in cabbages, Santa brings them and all that ... So he has no experience in this matter at all.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He loves the missionary position! It's definitely too easy, but he loves to see your face. Though he prefers that you don't see his own face, so he covers it up anyway.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He is absolutely serious! He won't be joking, because for him this is the moment when both of you can be vulnerable, naked and enjoy only each other. While he doesn't mind a little humor from you if you're up for it, he'll definitely blush at it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Mmm, he definitely shaves/cuts them. I guess he has them prickly enough that it gets nasty and he decides to get rid of them there. They do not match the color of his drapes, they are definitely lighter, much lighter.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is a very romantic boy! True, he is not a fan of these clichéd aspects, like roses, candles and any other nonsense that you can imagine. But he will still try to do something less clichéd before your sex time to make you feel loved. Well, during sex, he is also quite romantic. Although it's just kisses, hugs, some kind of compliments or words of approval, and all that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He... He hardly does that. I think a cold shower will help him, because his erection goes quite easily and quickly. But he may rarely do this, for example, when you have not had sex for a long time and it is not expected in the near future. Well, or if you want to see how he does it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He definitely has a kink for the size difference. Even if you are the same height or shorter than him, it is very easy to call. How? Just the mere thought of his partner (no matter what height/size) hovering over him like that turns him on. He also probably has a kink to the whole dom/sub dynamics. Just because he wants to be a good boy for you. And of course a kink for praise, I think it goes without explanation.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He's embarrassed enough to do it somewhere other than outside your rooms. And he just finds it too intimate for prying eyes and ears. So bed, sofa, table top, shower and so on.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Quite easily excitable, but this excitation also easily disappears. One careless spot on one of his private parts like chest, butt or groin, some too well-thought-out praise from you no matter what, and he feels like butterflies start fluttering in his stomach.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He is definitely against something too rough and something that brings too much pain. He is a gentle boy, although he doesn't mind if you want to do something more rough every now and then, but he doesn't want it to cause you or him any great pain. And he is definitely against sex in front of someone's eyes and sex in semi-public places (although in semi-public places he may agree, but on the condition that you both know and are sure that no one will come there).

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves to give. He's a little clumsy about it, but he'll try to give you whatever pleasure you want, where and how you want.

He doesn't really like to receive since he's too sensitive to your mouth in any of his spots, but he loves it anyway.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely prefers a sensual, gentle and slow pace. He loves it when you cover his face/neck/chest/etc with kisses as you gently thrust into him and his hands rest on your back and gently squeeze it when you hit a particularly sweet spot.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he's not a fan of that. And especially not a fan of this if you are the kind of person who is not enough only one orgasm. He loves leisurely sex where both of you can enjoy each other without rushing anywhere. But if you are too desperate to fuck him, then he may agree.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Not very experimental, but he trusts you, so he will comply. If you want something that is not in his no, then he is willing to try it anyway.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

I guess Deuce is pretty tough. His maximum is about 5-9 rounds. Although, if you want to do a total overstimulation of him, then about 12.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He hardly has any toys. He doesn't want to buy them (and probably didn't know they existed before your relationship with him, lol). But if you give him something, he will accept it, not without embarrassment, of course, but he will accept it.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

He doesn't like to tease you. He wants you to enjoy his body and his activities as much as you want. Although he can tease you if that's what you want. But he would probably prefer you to tease him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It's not too loud, but not too quiet either. Something like 6/10, yes. He knows how to act without being too loud. But he can be more vocal if you enjoy his sounds.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

He has many scars on his body from his "dark" past, which he wants to get rid of as soon as possible and the best. But he loves when you touch them one way or another. Stroking/kissing/pressing lightly/etc. Not even in a sexual way, he can even tell you a couple of stories about their appearance if you want.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Slim but muscular body. Strong headcanon for having a tiny waist, yes. Also, as I said earlier, he has a lot of scars. As for the cock... I think it's a strict 6 inches / 15 centimeters, and his shaft is quite small in girth.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Below the average. He does not need to have sex too often, his body simply does not require it. Although he is ready at almost any moment if you want it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fell asleep afterwards)

He gets very tired after sex, so he falls asleep almost instantly. Especially if you hug him and snuggle up to him.

[oneatlatime]

The Tales of Ba Sing Se PART 1

Once upon a time in Ba Sing Se, the Gaang got Appa back. The end. Please?

This title sounds rather expositiony, but last episode was already a plot/exposition dump, and a rather dark one at that. So who knows? Not me.

Sokka hun I think you're supposed to shave with a blade slightly less substantial than that.

I am fascinated by the hair loopies. I always thought that they were braided in, but they clip in. Does she have a magnet in her braid that they clip in to? A lego type system?

CAT

Toph's morning routine is uncomfortably close to mine.

I know Toph likes being slobby to stick it to the man, but wouldn't it also help with her spatial awareness if she's always sporting a healthy coating of earth? Maybe she can sense where her limbs are better or something?

"Spa day!" "Do I have to?" UNCOMFORTABLY CLOSE GUYS.

That has got to be torture. How would you like a pumice stone to the eyeballs?

Now THAT'S a healthy coating of earth.

You're not usually into that stuff? You got dolled up last episode.

Are there voice acting awards? Because whoever voiced these guys needs one. I have never in my life heard such perfectly distilled middle school clique bitch impression.

That's cathartic.

Katara's smothering/mothering tendencies usually annoy me, but it's a good thing those means girls happened when Katara was around, because this calls for serious hugs. I almost want to say that it's out of character to see Toph not be 100% sure of herself, but I think it adds character instead.

Do you think anyone's ever told Toph before that she's really pretty? Ever?

That's a good hug.

Is this short stories? Like an anthology? TALES of Ba Sing Se. Like day in the life? Ok. I'm going to break this up for ease of reading/writing.

The Tale of Iroh

If Iroh hadn't distinguished himself by making the best tea in the city, he would have come to everyone's attention anyway by single handedly fixing everyone's personal problems.

Bending soccer. Why didn't I think of that?

His voice is funny in this scene. Also isn't honour a fire nation thing?

One of my absolute favourite things about Iroh is that his philosophical side is always balanced out by a practical side. He's always philosophising but he's also always grounded. Sometimes hightailing it is what needs doing. Sometimes your sister is crazy and needs to go down.

You know you're bad at crime when your poor stance actually offends the guy you're mugging.

I also like how Iroh really doesn't moralise. He'll teach this guy what conditions the moonflower likes; he'll teach this guy how to mug better. Knowledge is for sharing, no judgment attached!

Random mugger speedruns Zuko's arc.

So pretty. It's been a while since there's been good pretty.

oh shit

ok

Now I have questions!

The Tale of Aang

Writers take note: You see this sad face? You see what you've done to my boy? You can reverse it with one simple trick! GIVE HIM APPA BACK.

I love this. Can't help Appa, so Aang helps every other animal in Ba Sing Se instead.

I want to know what this is. Monkey panther?

I didn't realise until now how tall platypus bears were.

CABBAGE GUY! HI!

Actual dragonflies. Punny.

I love these. My nomination for cutest atla animal.

I hope that wasn't required agricultural land. Should have put the zoo near the drill instead. That land already looked close to salted.

This was some Toph level bending. Love to see Aang's skills progress.

Turtle seal's got competition for cutest animal.

Just call this portion the petting zoo and it's a win.

The Tale of Sokka

Something I don't talk about enough is Sokka's supernatural skill with that boomerang. The realistic explanation is that he's spent every spare minute since receiving it honing his skills by chucking it at random piles of snow, but I like to think he's a boomerang bender. Actually wouldn't boomerang bending be a manifestation of latent airbending tendencies?

I make this face at lasagne.

I may have to make another Sokka's Stupid Faces post.

There is nothing oaflike about falling out of a window and into a Haiku. He was even polite about it!

Somebody introduce Sokka to flyting.

Forget about being a warrior, Aang needs to end this war yesterday so that Sokka can go be a poet. Warrior poet. He's way too creative to waste on cannon fodder.

Poetry bouncer. The longer I think about that the funnier it gets.

Betrayed by hubris.

A Poetry bouncer. Who comes up with this stuff? How do you come up with that? I keep thinking about a poetry bouncer and I keep giggling.

I'm breaking this post here as I'm reaching the image limit. Part 2 coming immediately!

[analogwriting]

Star-Crossed

Chapter 10: Süda

Donquixote Rosinante x gn!reader word count: 1.8k next

“What in the everliving fuck just happened?” You turned, looking at Marco who started bursting into laughter. You were ready to deck him in all honesty. Though, your brain was currently focusing on the last thing that Law said. That Corazon even had a crush on you then. How the hell?

“That kid never ceases to surprise me.” You can never guess how he would react to something.  He had that stoic expression most of the time, which is why sometimes his bedside manner sucked ass. He only really expressed irritation or annoyance. His friends and Corazon seemed to be the only ones who could bring out the softer sides of him, it was a humorous thing to behold.

Marco looked at you with a lazy grin. “I told you that you're overthinking things. It's okay to be thanked for the things that you do. Like he said, some people meet their heroes and end up being ass anyway.” 

You rolled your eyes and folded your arms across your chest. “I guess I'll talk to Corazon,” you mumbled, shaking your head. Marco was right. You were terrible at letting people show you the least bit of gratitude. You just felt like you were doing what you were supposed to. You were doing your job. Nothing all that special. 

“Good. Cause he's actually here.”

The sheer speed in which your head snapped to Marco, you were surprised you didn't break it. “He had just dropped everything off when you showed up, so I told him to wait a bit. That I'd convince you to talk to him.” He stood up with a shit eating grin that made you want to punch him again. 

“I'll be right back.” 

You let out a loud groan once he left, covering your face with your hands. You weren't even sure what you were feeling right now. A migraine, for sure. You might have mostly cured your hangover but your entire body still hurt. Your original plan was to just come in and check in on everyone. A short and easy visit. 

Now it was all complicated.

You looked at the bouquet again, taking one of the chocolate “flowers” shaped like a heart and examining it closely. It looked pretty good, smelled good too.

“They're coffee flavored.” 

You jumped, looking up at the tall man in your doorway. You honestly felt your own heart almost leap out of your chest when you saw him. You didn't realize just how much you missed him until this moment. You had come to love his little visits and not having them made your life a little boring. 

He stepped into the office, closing the door behind him. You watched his movements carefully, trying to gauge his mood right now. Him closing the door made you a little on edge, but you tried not to think about it. He turned to you, bowing his head slightly.

“My name is Donquixote Rosinante.” What���the hell was going on? Did he hit his head? “I’m from the Donquixote Family. My brother gave me the title of Corazon and even though I have long since left, I still use the name mostly because Law just never stopped using it and I didn’t hate it so here we are.” He walked towards you and you couldn’t back up as you were already pressed into your desk.

“I am no contact with my family. As far as I know, my brother still thinks I’m missing. I have one kid that I found a long time ago riddled with disease. He’s long since cured now.” 

You still had no idea what was going on. What was this monologue? 

“Hearts are kind of my thing because I am full of so much love for others - at least that’s what Bepo says. I just like hearts. My favorite foods are lettuce, cabbage, and umeboshi. I don’t like pizza or bread. I’m incredibly clumsy and break almost everything. I-”

“Rosinante.”

The man stopped talking, looking at you with surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

He frowned. “Well, isn’t it obvious? I’m starting over. Being transparent. It’s…” He paused, losing whatever momentum he had.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Cute but unnecessary.” You took a deep breath. “However.” You looked up at him.

“My name is y/n l/n. I am from the l/n family. My mother died when I was young and I was set to take over my father’s family. I was never really about that life and didn’t get the courage to leave it until a small child and his clumsy father came into my life, giving me the final push to leave.” You watched as Corazon’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but you covered it with your hand to prevent him from saying anything.

“I took over this hospital and made it a safe haven for those who want to leave. And a neutral ground for those who need help. My best friend is Marco Newgate, son of Edward Newgate, or as you know him ‘Whitebeard’. We just call him ‘Pops’. I do enjoy coffee and coffee flavored things. The extra caffeine is something I always need.” You removed your hand from his mouth, looking up at him.

“We’re the reason you left?” It seemed he was hung up on that part. You nodded. “I had been thinking about it already and helping Law gave me that final resolve to do so. It seemed we both inspired each other.”

After a moment of processing your words, he finally spoke. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, y/n. I hope we can get along.” He smiled warmly at you, making your heart skip a beat.

“Nice to meet you too, Rosinante.” 

He paused for a moment before sighing. “I really am sorry, though.” He frowned deeply. “You did nothing but treat Law, the boys, and I with such kindness and patience. All I did in return was end up pointing a gun at you just because of who your father was.” 

“I did do the same thing to y-”

“But that’s not the same. You had just been attacked by my family and then you ran into me. You were scared and unknowing. In my situation, you didn’t do a single thing wrong. You did everything right and I still treated you like a criminal.” He sighed, resting his forehead on your shoulder. 

You could feel your face slowly setting on fire. Your heart was racing a million miles an hour and you had no idea what to do. You took a deep breath, finally speaking. “I knew you weren’t going to shoot me.” 

Corazon pulled away, looking at you.

“No offense, Ros, but you’re one of the least intimidating people I’ve ever met for one.” You watched his face turn red - whether it was from your comment or the spur of the moment nickname, you weren’t sure. “I don’t think you would’ve been able to pull the trigger. You thought I had lied to you and acted rashly, yes. But I knew that deep down you knew that I was right.”

“You disarming me in the least painful way possible and disassembling my gun before giving it back to me told me everything I needed to know. You don’t like hurting people and you trusted me. You gave me back the very thing that could kill you had I actually been determined to do so.”

You nodded, smiling. “Glad you saw it that way because that’s exactly the message I wanted to get across.” You sighed softly, shaking your head. “I was tired of all the violence. Of the killing. I hated doing it. That’s why I left. I wanted to help people.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again. “I should’ve never-”

“Rosinante.” You used your firm tone that caused him to tense slightly and his face turned even more red.  You had to keep that in mind. “I swear if you apologize again, I’m not going to forgive you.” His eyes widened in surprise, nodding quickly. “I’m s-” He cut himself off. “Uh…yes, doctor,” he mumbled. 

You snorted softly. “Law told me something very interesting,” you mused, looking up at him. Corazon blinked, tensing slightly. He narrowed his eyes. “What did he have to say?”

“That apparently you had a crush on me back then?” A sly grin appeared across your face. 

His eyes widened and he started to sputter. You watched as his mind began reeling as he tried to find something to say to you. You grinned. “Real interesting considering I hid basically all the features that could give me away from you. Must’ve been my radiant personality.” 

He only grew more red by the minute before he finally spoke. “I mean, how could I not? You’re literally the kindest and sweetest person I’ve ever met. Not to mention you’re incredibly intelligent and willing to help anyone no matter what, even if it reopens your own traumatic wounds.”

That shut you right up. This time you were the one going red and struggling to find something to say. You just stared at him with eyes the size of saucers. “I didn’t need to know what you looked like to know how I felt about you.”

“You sure that wasn’t just gratitude since I had just saved your son back this?” you tried to brush it off as nothing, but the look in Corazon’s eyes said something else. He shook his head. “I’m positive.”

Before you could get so much as another word in, there was a knock at the door. For fuck’s sake, could you not have fucking anything?

“Can I never have a minute?” You were mumbling and grumbling, folding your arms across your chest as you pouted slightly.

Marco walked in with an expression that immediately made you uneasy. “You know that I do not want to interrupt right now because no one has been waiting for this moment more eagerly than me. But…” He looked at you with a deep frown.

“Your father called. He wants you to visit the estate immediately. Didn’t say why.”

You just stared at Marco. What the fuck did your father want? Why now? He was just here. And as much as you appreciated him for contacting you in a more appropriate manner, you were annoyed that he did it right now. Didn’t he say everything he needed to the other day? Is the weird cryptic thing that Pops said earlier going to unfold now? Were you finally going to get some answers?

You looked at Corazon apologetically. “I-”

He shook his head, holding up his hand. “Just go. I’ll be here when you get back.” He smiled at you. “Marco said he programmed my number into your phone last night anyway, so call me when you get back.” You felt your face warm up. “I…” Man, you didn’t deserve a man with so much patience. You nodded. “Okay. Will do.” With that, you grabbed your coat and headed out of the office, silently cursing your dad for interrupting your love life not once, but twice.

[ageless-aislynn]

Aislynn's Absolute Screaming, Crying, Flailing Thinky Thoughts About Halo s2ep8

Under the cut since its the finale and I don't want to be That Person who spoils a finale for anybody if I can help it 💖

First thing: KAI, my baby, noooooooooo

Okay, do I love the Halo games? So much. So, so much. Did I know what actually adapting them would mean would happen in the live action show, especially since s2 clearly wanted to pull closer to the games? Yep.

Did I want to see characters I've come to love, appreciate or love to hate get infected by the Flood? HECK NO.

However, the fact that the Flood spores were much smaller than their game counterparts (Evil Cabbages with feet were my initial thought of them when I met them in Combat Evolved the first time 😂🤷‍♀️😉) was a definite win, IMO. Obviously they couldn't be germ-sized in game and you be able to shoot them. But just the visual of them being smaller and much more virus/germ-sized made them a bazillion times scarier because they felt more real in that way to me.

Why do I watch so many zombie things? Zombies FREAK ME OUT SO BAAAAAD, MAN. And the body horror, dude. Ohhhhh, I can't with the body horror and people getting mutated and... UGH. Yet I've made, like, half a dozen Alien/Prometheus vids. I AM A CONUNDRUM, what can I say? 🤷‍♀️😂

Now, ever since Vannak died, I've been trying to figure out how we can, you know, bring him back to the show. I still don't know how it could actually be done but one thing I do know is that KAI COULD TOTALLY BE FOUND INJURED BUT ALIVE. Her Mjolnir can protect her from deep space, so it could have totally protected her against a big KABOOM, too. Her body is intact, she wasn't vaporized or whatever, so that's my story and I'm sticking to it. *nodnods very seriously*

I think I'm going to have to either invent time travel or cloning to save Vannak, though. Give me a minute. 🤔😉

If we do get another season (or 2 or 5 😉), I'm wondering if they're really serious about Silver Team being gone, if we're going to get Blue Team, then? Mannnnn, I don't want Silver to be gone, though. I've fallen so in love with Kai, Riz and Vannak now, too!

I'm kinda glad that not-Thel!Arbiter wasn't Thel because that was a good ending to his storyline, with Chief's "I know what he said" and finishing him off. Obs, though, I don't want Thel to have met the same fate.

Makee's line about being a demon, too? That was a good one, yep. Still annoyed that John's first question to her last ep wasn't "Um, hi, nice to see you and how is it that you're alive?" That being unanswered was just one of those clearly "because we changed showrunners," things.

John and Cortana (now in his suit), together again, YESSSSS!!!

Hello, Guilty Spark! If this is Gravemind they're talking about, they NEED Dee Bradley Baker for the voice. Just, no question, don't even think of casting anybody else.

John doing that badass "fight through the smoke and haze to save the day" made my fangirl heart go pitter-pat, what can I say? I'm easy to please, lol!

In summary, I did love s2 in a different way than I loved s1 and I hope we'll get news of a renewal ASAP!

Also, Kai's fine, she's just having a little nap, no worries!