#Stripping Away the Clutter

[thealchemyofgamecreation]

Thinking Like Picasso: A Fresh Perspective on Game Design

🎮 Excited to share "Thinking Like Picasso: A Fresh Perspective on Game Design"! 🖌️🎨 Step into the mind of Picasso and discover a whole new way to approach game design🕹️ #GameDesign #Picasso #Innovation #AdobeFirefly

Section 1: Unleashing Your Inner Picasso: An IntroductionSection 2: Breaking the Mold: Shattering ConventionsUnleash Your Inner Maverick:Beyond the Comfort Zone:Thinking Outside the HUD:Redefining Progression:Dare to Innovate:Section 3: The Art of Simplicity: Less is MoreDiscovering Elegance in Simplicity:Stripping Away the Clutter:A Seamless Journey:Embracing the Zen of Gaming:Lessons from…

[defmaybe]

Sticky

ITZY’s Shin Yuna x Male Reader

1.9k words

Prequel to Party Police

See also: Not Shy

A/N: I write this in two sittings for probably the only mommy Yuna fic lol - BFH-type shit. No editing, no beta-reading, just pure lust again.

–

The clickings of the keyboards displace silence. Again, you’re stuck in the mundane cycle of doing another proposal for the project you’re going to lead. Sighs and sighs don’t keep you from drowsiness building up inside. Others don’t seem to do better even, some even folded on their desks already. The chilly breeze from the conditioner really is relentless right now, so damn perfect for a nap.

“Miss Shin wants you,” the secretary says, keeping you from falling into slumber.

You quickly get up from your desk, pacing towards the glass-paned office. You see your other co-workers dreading their assignments, clicking on their keyboards with blank eyes. On the opposite side, you can see, through the horizontal blinds, the vibrant office with your boss, Shin Yuna, doing the decorations inside. She’s tall (well, taller than you, at least), often confident, and so energetic, contrary to the department she just got handed over a few weeks ago.

You knock on the transparent door, seeing her putting on her Lady Bird poster on the wall. She’s wearing a one-piece raven black dress, one that hugs her slim, otherworldly curvy body so well. You can see her wide hips being so prominent, stripping away your fatigue.

“Come in!” she says, looking over her shoulders as she’s finishing the touch-ups.

You open the door, greeted with the scent of her air purifier—spring. The white fur carpet on the floor welcomes you with the sensations on your soles. Her office is spacious, and the colorful decorations fit her attitude and personality so much.

“Please, sit down,” she says with a smile, hand pointing to the seat in front of her desk. Even the cluttering trinkets on her table never look crowded, they are so meticulously placed to give her a perfect amount of space left for her work.

You accept her invitation, walking towards the seat. Yuna also retreats from her sprinklings back to hers, sitting down in her chair gracefully—a charming boss.

The air hangs heavy for a while, as Yuna takes some time to clear her desk. You glance around the room like the other times. The crucial difference being the Lady Bird poster, of course, and a few more band posters that you can’t quite recall from your listening history.

“So…” Yuna breaks the silence, tapping a finger on her chin, contemplating. “I see that you’ve been looking a little tired. Is that true?”

You blabber out, “N-No! I’m not tired a-at all.” You even put your hands up to deny the allegation.

“Those eyes don’t lie, baby.” The utterance of the last word alone freezes you. Is she flirting?

Let’s pause for a bit. Shin Yuna just got promoted to being your department’s manager—now three weeks in tenure. Her bubbly and kind personality receives multiple acclaim from your co-workers. And combined with her insanely high performances in projects, you cannot see how she wouldn’t get the position. 

Now, that friendly personality can be a bit, to say the least, slightly invasive. Yuna has always been so eager to fire up a talk with people, even if it means robbing someone’s silence. She’s also always happy to help those around her, no matter the methods. You’ve heard some complaints about her vivacious nature, but with the results saying otherwise, you just cannot dislike her for that.

“A-Are you suggesting I should go home or s-something?” you ask, unable to register how she’s getting up to close the blinds, as if she’s asking for some privacy from the outside right now. The room seems to shrink.

“Oh, does it look like that? Not at all, baby,” there it is again, baby.

“As your boss, I have to make sure that you stay productive for the day’s work!” Her smile lights the room up, as she walks towards her chair and sits down again. “I can’t have my employees dreading their jobs and expect a satisfactory performance.”

“Y-You’re very kind, M-Miss Shin,” you stammer out, and she seems to be happy with your words.

“Now tell me.” Yuna leans in closer to you, giving you the fine details of her face—doe eyes, minty breath, rose-colored lips. “Are you familiar with… mommy kink?”

You freeze, not expecting such a question from your manager. The gears in your head are working their best to seek the best answer you can give her, let alone making sense of the peculiar situation.

“A-Aga-”

“I’m certain of what I’ve said, mister,” she cuts you off, stern. Her expression reduces into an emotionless state. “Mommy kink, yes or no.”

“Uh…” That’s the only answer you can give her. The prospect of fully submitting to Miss Shin Yuna seems too enticing. Yet, perhaps it’s your inhibition that’s stopping your desire from falling into places.

“Come, sit on my lap,” Yuna instructs.

You glance around the room—left, right, back—as if to delay the inevitable of her pleasuring you.

“Now,” Yuna now commands, her voice steps down a few notes. 

“And there’s no camera hidden here, I promise,” she says with a smile, comforting you a little.

You slowly get up from your seat. What if I don’t do well enough for her? You walk around her table to land at your destination, your back against her face. She adjusts her position on her chair a little to accommodate your ass.

Her thighs feel… strong—definitely a result of workouts she has had after work. The images of those sweaty, skimpy sessions are making your mouth quiver—the fluid dripping down her body, just for you to taste.

Her hands start from grabbing the both sides of your slutty hips, earning a small whimper from you.

“So yearning for mommy’s touch, aren’t you?” Yuna giggles, moving her frisky fingers to unbutton your blue shirt.

“Y-Yes, mommy.” Your breath comes out in a false rhythm.

With your abdomen being gradually exposed, she uses a hand to feel it a bit, sending shocks and shocks through your faltering body.

“F-Fuck.”

“Hmm, so needy for mommy~” Yuna then continues her groping, until the last button is freed. Your upper body is bare under the cold air of the conditioner right now, as she brings the fondling hand up to your throat.

“Do you want my lips on you, baby boy?” Yuna asks, breaths warming the back of your neck. You can only nod at her.

Consented, she plants her lips on your body, and you are sure that the rosy prints are going to stick with you until the end of the day. Still, is it a fact that you should care right now? Getting groped by your goddess of a manager, with her being your mommy, on top of it.

You shiver at her kisses.

She frees your throat  before drawing her hand down to play with your raging bulge. She can definitely feel your cock aching to be freed right now.

“Need a hand, baby?” again, she asks, hand fondling the tent in your pants.

You become a stuttering mess at this point. “Y-Yes, m-mommy, please.”

“Please… what, baby boy?” She’s playing coy with you for sure.

“P-Please use your hand on my c-cock, please,” you utter out.

She whispers into your ear, “Good boy.” 

She unzips your pants, hand then slithering into the hole. The sensations are even stronger right now, with your underwear being the only barrier between you and her.

She keeps kissing your moaning neck, printing roses wherever she can reach. Her hand is stuck in fondling your cock through the slim cloth.

“Mommy, p-please,” you whimper, desire burning too brightly.

“Say please again, baby boy, and I’ll touch your cock.” Yuna giggles, enjoying how you’re submitting to your boss so damn easily.

“Please, m-mommy.”

Yuna wastes no time to push all of your lower garments down in a single motion, exposing your throbbing, twitching cock in glory. She hums in satisfaction at the sight.

“Hmm~, baby boy, so hard for me already?” she asks, finger drawing a line on the back of your cock from the bottom to the top. It twitches in response.

“Ngh, y-yes, m-m-mommy.” Yuna seems to be happy with your answer as she strokes your cock leisurely.

Her slender fingers only do what they have to do: sliding up and down to make you shatter under her touch. She starts at a slow pace, only teasing you about what’s coming. Her other hand roams under your shirt, moving down onto your juicy ass.

“Ngh, mommy,” you utter, pleasure building up in your loins. The sensations become stronger as seconds passed.

Yuna giggles at your whimpering, “Yes, baby boy?”

“I-I-, ngh,” you cannot form any words under her spell. Fuck.

Yuna cannot hold her chuckle inside, clearly satisfied with her baby boy melting under her touch. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Faster, please,” you finally respond, slightly out of breath from the overwhelming sparks all over your body.

Yuna listens to your plea, quickening the strokes, bringing you closer to the edge. Fuck, your slutty moans are probably heard by the people outside now.

The squelches of Yuna’s strokes are filling the room, along with your needy whimpers and her satisfactory hums. “I just wanna spend the whole day jerking this cock~” Yuna expresses, your heart flutters at her words.

“And I mean it, really,” she continues, still keeping the moderate pace of her hand from behind. 

“The size, the curvature, the thickness, god, I’m sure it can stretch mommy’s cunt out so well,” she whispers, and your length just cannot get harder at this second.

“M-Mommy, would you berate me i-if I- fuck.” you struggle to lead your words out, stuttering everywhere you can. She’s still jerking your cock, nursing you with another hand roaming over your body to over stimulate.

“Fast cummer, baby?” She chuckles at your apprehension. “You’re doing well, baby. I think this is the perfect pace for us.”

“T-Thanks, mommy,” you say, feeling the tightening of your knot already. “M-Mommy, where c-can I cum?”

“Ooh, that’s an interesting question, baby boy,” Yuna laughs. “I don’t think the higher-ups would mind a few stains from us~,”

“W-Wha-”

“Shh, let mommy handle this,” she affirms. “Just stay on my lap and let me milk your cock, okay?”

Your mind goes feral, aching for release. Her hand relentlessly stroking your length and another traversing your compact frame just overloads your mind. “Y-Yes mommy.”

“Good boy, now, cum for me, please.”

And it hits, you become undone at her touch, like a lightning. Your sticky cum is shot everywhere—on her desk, on the floor, hell, even on yourself. You moan in the pleasure of her touch and the mind-shattering orgasm. “Mommy!” you shout. Yeah, everyone is going to hear that.

“Wow,” Yuna pants, before planting a kiss on your neck. She doesn’t seem to mind the fact that your seed is on her precious report right now. “You came so much for mommy.”

You try to catch your breath, before speaking out, “Thanks, mommy.”

–

[ozzgin]

Monster kidnapper smut that's beneficial for the human: the king finally let's the servants in on *why* he's so fond of reader and lo and behold: the servants had bets on them and when they'll reveal the secret. At least of them had to know early on, right?

Or, alternatively;

Reader joins the monster king in on a meeting to discuss something dealig with war and reader teasing the king very subtly the whole time. Your pick

- 👁️👁️

Content: gender neutral reader, monster smut, NSFW! (exhibitionism, fingering)

You’re not supposed to be here. The last thing he needed to worry about was his own men gawking at you, yet he had no choice: he would’ve otherwise been away for too long. He feared he might’ve returned to find you gone, troubled by another rescuing attempt, or snatched shamelessly by some other monster looking for a mate.

At least now he can keep you under his watchful gaze. He breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that your safety is ensured, and that-

“What’s the circled area?” you ask the other monstrous officer, bending over the enormous desk in an attempt to reach the source of your curiosity.

Your beastly husband is immediately distracted by your posture. Are you messing with him right now? You can’t possibly be this oblivious. Your back is arched, pushing your bottom upwards. Whatever explanation his subordinate is currently providing you with is a mere blur against his ears, as his mind begins to wander. He can almost picture his large, clawed hand pinning you against the wooden surface, locking you in place as his other hand skillfully strips you of any clothing obstacles. His fingers trace your outline: you’re ready to be filled.

“Right, Sir?”

He coughs dryly and approaches the table, trying to sober up. Yes, it’s exactly as his inferior says. Whatever the hell that was. He was too busy folding you in half mentally.

“That makes sense”, you hum with feigned interest.

He knows that look. It’s the same innocent expression you make when your mouth is struggling to take him in, your small hands holding onto the base for support. He clicks his tongue, frustrated by your obvious attempts to tease him. He can feel the heat traveling downwards.

“Bring me the other documents, will you? They’re in the storage behind”, your husband demands, pointing at some furniture across. The officer scrambles to fulfill his order.

At the same time, your monster spouse marches towards the nearby sofa, nonchalantly pulling you after him. You can tell he’s upset and that he’s made up his mind. He pats the empty space next to him, and you hesitantly follow. Before you can sit, his hand swiftly cushions your landing. You gasp and squirm from the sudden intrusion, while his fingers fumble with your undergarments, searching for an opening.

“Oh, one thing I forgot to mention”, the officer remarks cheerfully, head buried in the paper clutter. He proceeds to narrate further explanations to your earlier discussion.

You can only nod quietly, biting your lips in a helpless struggle. How lewd, how outrageous! You tilt your head pleadingly, but the beast smirks back at you. You’re not getting out of this.

One finger is enough to noticeably stretch your entrance. You’ve no time to protest, nor to adjust to the foreign object currently inside you, as it begins pumping in and out.

“Ah!”

You slap a hand over your mouth. The subordinate returns with a stack of folders under his arm, chuckling at the sight. He never imagined his Lord to be the cuddly type, yet here he is, holding you in his embrace.

“No need to mock me, (Y/N). I know it wasn’t the most shocking fact.”

“Weren’t you very interested a moment ago?” your husband inquires with a wide grin, increasing his pace. “Ask him something else. Go on.”

[Monster Marriage] | [More Monsters]

[winterarmyy]

Steal Me Away

Glimpses of the grumpy chubby alpha!bucky's love life.

Summary: When Bucky was stuck in an unpleasant lunch with his co-workers; he thought about how nice it would be if someone comes and steals him away.

Navigation: Prequel || Main Story I || Main Story II || Main Story III

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Words: 2.6k++

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics. no plot, just fluff. low-key body shamming, bullying, bucky and his omega being adorable. (tell me is there's anything else I missed)

P/S: Impulsive writing at 3am in the morning because I couldn't sleep, then left the draft to rot for weeks, now posted. Also tagging @serendipitouslife90 because she's the biggest fan of this au. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this short fic and happy reading! 🤍

Read my other works here: Masterlist

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Bucky’s cubicle, casting narrow strips of light across his cluttered desk. The office was its usual sanctuary of muted tones and hushed conversations. Colleagues navigated the aisles like cautious explorers, their brief nods to Bucky barely concealing their unease.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he preferred it this way. Solitude was his comfort zone, and he relished the uninterrupted focus on his work.

Bucky tapped away at his keyboard, the rhythmic clacking serving as his meditation. His thoughts were like the lines of code he worked with; orderly, precise, and devoid of unnecessary embellishments. Socializing was a distraction he neither wanted nor needed.

The occasional murmurs of sympathy about his less-than-ideal body shape for an Alpha like him, or the prosthetic arm he wore to make up for his imperfection, had long since ceased to bother him. They were background noise in the symphony of his workday.

Two weeks had passed since Bucky had last seen y/n, their second date now a vivid but distant memory. Their time together had been cut short, both of them consumed by the relentless demands of their careers. Especially for Bucky, the high-pressure world of software engineering was unforgiving.

Ever since he was in school, he always had the knack for tech but as he grew up, his path lead away from it. Then after his abrupt release from military service, he was lost for a moment. He lost his position and quite literally his limb. After he was introduced to Stark Technologies for is prosthetic, his interest in tech bloomed once more.

Fast forward, he had transitioned to civilian life with a single-minded focus on his career. The transition from soldier to software engineer had been a challenging yet rewarding shift, one that demanded every ounce of his dedication.

His days were a blur of client meetings, coding marathons, and sleepless nights, leaving him barely enough time to recharge. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't escape the gnawing sense of guilt that tugged at him.

Y/n had been understanding, insisting that they could take things slow and that she was patient. Yet Bucky felt a pressing need to make up for the lost time, to show her that she was more important than the endless stream of work that consumed him.

His longing for her was a constant undercurrent in his daily routine, a reminder of the connection he cherished and the promises he hoped to fulfill, even amidst the chaos of his demanding schedule.

Lunchtime arrived with an uncharacteristic intrusion; Brock’s insistent presence. Bucky had settled into his usual corner of the break room, anticipating a quiet meal alone.

But Brock, with his usual smirk, plopped down across from him, completely unfazed by Bucky’s visible discomfort.

“You know, Bucky,” he started, his tone laced with false camaraderie, “maybe you should join us for lunch this time. Walk off that fat in your belly, and maybe, just maybe, might help you lose a few pounds and get that soldier body of yours again.”

The comment triggered a ripple of reactions around the break room. A few colleagues, particularly those who fancied themselves as superior alpha, snickered behind their coffee cups, enjoying the moment at Bucky’s expense. The rest of the room fell into an awkward silence; some looked away, unable or unwilling to get involved, while others exchanged nervous glances, wary of crossing the line with either of the alpha males.

Bucky’s mind raced with a mix of frustration and contemplation. Brock’s taunts were nothing new, but the timing was particularly irritating. With his packed schedule and the constant pressure of meeting deadlines, Bucky had barely had a moment to breathe, let alone deal with petty office politics.

The jabs felt like an unnecessary complication in an already strained day. His thoughts were a whirlwind of frustration; he wondered why he always ended up the target of Brock’s remarks and whether it was a reflection of his own choices or just Brock’s way of asserting dominance.

The palpable tension in the room only added to his mounting irritation.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his irritation simmering beneath a thin veneer of politeness. “Yeah, sure. Why not?” He didn’t bother hiding the grumble in his voice. His work would have to wait, and so would his patience.

The café buzzed with conversation and clinking dishes, an atmosphere of forced cheerfulness that did little to mask the underlying tension. Bucky took his seat with a sigh, his mind already drifting to y/n, the image of her smile a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Brock wasted no time in launching his passive-aggressive jabs, each comment about Bucky’s weight or his vibranium prosthetic arm more cutting than the last. Bucky could feel the rage bubbling up, but he forced himself to stay calm, focusing instead on the thought of y/n. The warm glow of her presence seemed to wrap around him, even in the midst of Brock’s taunts.

Brock leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “You know, Bucky, it's always something watching you eat alone. Maybe if you spent less time working and more time mingling; hit the gym with us after work or something. Who knows you might actually find yourself a date for once.”

The remark seemed casual, almost playful, but it carried a veiled sting. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s solitary lunchtime habits; it was a pointed jab at his single status, suggesting that his lack of romantic success might be due to his social ineptitude and undesirable body.

Bucky’s patience snapped. He leaned forward, his voice cold and controlled. “I don’t know, Brock. Honestly, it’s much better to be alone than to ‘mingle’ with someone who’s all bark and no bite.” He fearlessly maintained his cold gaze; eyes seemingly bore the words his lips never spoke. “…Like you”

Brock's face flushed a deep crimson, and his jaw tightened in a futile attempt to maintain composure. He muttered something about needing a smoke before hastily exiting the room, his pride stinging from the unexpected jab. The rest of the team sat in an uneasy silence, the tension almost tangible.

They watched as Bucky’s eyes bore into Brock’s retreating figure, cold and unyielding. There was something almost feral in his gaze, a silent promise of consequences that only someone with true authority and control could convey.

Everyone knew better than to provoke him further; Bucky's look was a chilling reminder that he played by his own rules.

Brock stepped out of the café, his frustration boiling over as he lit a cigarette. With each inhale of nicotine, he muttered darkly under his breath, cursing Bucky and grumbling about how that fat-ass loser like him had the audacity to undermine his clearly more superior alpha status.

His anger was a tempest, raging against the affront to his ego.

As he paced, his gaze drifted to the sidewalk next to the café, where a striking woman in a sundress was engrossed in her phone. The late afternoon sun highlighted the gentle curves of her figure, and her unblemished skin glowed softly, exposed at the back of her neck.

Brock’s eyes raked over her with a predatory appreciation, the male gaze undeniable in his scrutiny.

Her poised stance and soft demeanor hinted at an aura of femineity that intrigued him. A smirk curved his lips as he took another drag from his cigarette, already imagining how he might woo her, hoping that a little charm could be the distraction he needed from his bruised pride.

Back in the café, Bucky was still seated at the table, surrounded by the typical midday hustle, yet he remained ensconced in a bubble of tranquility. His attention was focused solely on his phone, where a soft, contented smile played on his lips. The noise of the café faded into the background as he read through y/n’s messages.

Each word from her was a thread that connected him to a part of his life that felt more real and meaningful than the relentless grind of his daily routine.

Y/n had inquired about his lunch, her questions laced with genuine curiosity. “How was your lunch?” “Was it any good?” “How’s your day been so far?” The inquiries seemed almost innocent, yet they carried a warmth that enveloped him.

And then, the message that tugged at his heartstrings: “I miss you.” It was as if her words had the power to reach through the screen and touch him directly, offering a solace that was hard to find amidst the chaos left from the prior event.

He missed her deeply.

The absence of her voice, the comfort of her presence. He wished that she could just steal him away; or perhaps he would be stealing her away?

Eitherway, he just wants to get out of here.

As he glanced at the time, noting that he still had about thirty minutes before he needed to return to the office, he made a quick decision. He would step outside for a moment, away from the unnecessary drama, and maybe give her a call.

The thought of hearing her voice, even if only for a brief conversation, was a beacon of light in his otherwise frenetic day. As Bucky stepped out of the café, his gaze remained fixed on his phone, where y/n’s last message glowed softly on the screen.

Unbeknownst to him, the scene unfolding just a few paces away was far less pleasant. Brock, still nursing his bruised ego from their earlier encounter by relentlessly flirting with the girl. “Come on, sweetheart, just one date.” Brock said, his voice low and laced with insincere flirtation.

He leaned in close, a smirk playing on his lips as his hand reached out, brushing against her exposed shoulder. Y/n recoiled slightly, her discomfort palpable. “I’m really not interested,” she said firmly, though her voice carried an undercurrent of unease. “and I have a boyfriend.”

Brock’s persistence only grew more insistent. “I doubt that. I can see you do not have his mark here,” he persisted, his hand lingering uncomfortably on her shoulder, close to where her mating mark supposed to reside. Despite her attempts to shrug off his advances, Brock didn’t relent. His touch was intrusive, and his words edged on harassment. And she can sense the scent of arousal coming from the alpha.

Y/n’s eyes darted around, seeking an escape from the unwanted attention. As her gaze fell behind Brock, she caught sight of a familiar figure; one that seemed to offer a lifeline amidst her distress.

“Bucky?” she called out, her voice tinged with both relief and surprise. The name escaped her lips before she could fully process the situation, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of Bucky walking toward them.

Bucky knew that voice. It was a sound that resonated deep within him, as familiar as his own heartbeat. He lifted his eyes from his phone, and the world around him sharpened into focus. The scene before him was both infuriating and unmistakable: Brock, with his sleazy smirk and inappropriate proximity, stood uncomfortably close to Bucky's omega, his hand hovering dangerously near her exposed shoulder.

A surge of primal fury shot through Bucky, a blaze of anger that burned through his veins and coiled tight in his chest. His eyes blazed with a fierce intensity, a low, guttural growl forming in his throat as he prepared to confront the intruder. His body tensed, ready to pounce.

But before he could make a move, y/n was already in motion. She leaped into his arms with a mix of desperation and joy, catching Bucky off guard. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, holding her securely against his chest.

Her arms clung tightly to his nape, her face burying itself into the crook of his neck as if seeking refuge; shamelessly scenting him. Her warm breath and soft sighs was a soothing cure to his simmering rage.

The anger that had been boiling inside him began to fizzle away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and love. The sound of her happy purrs, the feel of her soft body pressed against his, and her intoxicatingly sweet scent; all of it made his anger dissolve into a tender, protective affection.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his arms tightening around her waist as he relished in the comforting closeness. “Hi, sugar.” he whispered, his voice thick with affection and relief.

Bucky's hold loosen as he leaned down, his gentle smile never faltering as he closed the distance between them. His eyes softened with affection, and he pressed his lips against y/n's in a kiss so tender it felt like a whisper. It was a soft, loving caress that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

But before he could pull back, y/n’s playful energy erupted. She cupped his cheeks in her delicate hands, pulling him down to her level with a sudden, joyful enthusiasm.

Her lips attacked his with a flurry of kisses; quick, warm, and full of exuberance. Each kiss left behind a trace of her strawberry-scented lipstick, creating a trail of smudged rosy color across his face. The marks dotted his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and even his lips, a vibrant testament to her affection.

Amused laughter bubbled up from Bucky, the sound a rare and delightful departure from his usual stoic demeanor. His eyes twinkled with genuine mirth, his grumpy alpha persona completely melted away in the face of y/n’s loving onslaught.

He reveled in the smothering of her kisses, his initial tension and anger forgotten. A satisfied rumble vibrates on his throat, across his chest. The contrast between his earlier anger and the unrestrained joy he now experienced was stark; the shift was almost palpable.

Lost in their own world, the two seemed oblivious to their surroundings. Their display of affection was unabashedly public, a stark contrast to the earlier tension. Y/n looked up at him with bright eyes, her voice filled with eager excitement as she asked if he still had time.

“I want to steal you away.” she said with a playful smile.

Bucky’s smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. “Of course, sugar. Anything for you.” he replied, his voice tender and filled with genuine warmth.

But as Bucky’s gaze shifted away from y/n and landed on Brock, his soft features momentarily disappeared. His expression hardened, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. The switch in his demeanor was chilling; an instant transformation from the tender lover to a menacing figure.

The coldness in his eyes was a silent, yet unmistakable warning. It was as though a dark storm cloud had settled over him, a clear signal that Brock's earlier arrogance had crossed an unforgivable line.

The intensity of Bucky’s stare spoke volumes, a silent promise of retribution and a reminder of the strength behind his calm exterior. The abrupt shift in his demeanor was a jarring contrast to the affection he had just displayed, sending a clear message to Brock that any further provocation would be met with unspeakable consequences.

As Bucky and y/n walked hand in hand away from the café, Brock stood there, fuming and humiliated. His attempt to belittle Bucky had backfired spectacularly.

Inside the café, Bucky’s colleagues had their jaws dropped. They were astonished not only by y/n’s ethereal beauty but also by the sight of Bucky, usually so composed and reserved, smiling so openly. They were completely stunned by the unexpected display of vulnerability and affection from the grumpy loner.

The couple continued down the street, their hands clasped together. The afternoon sun cast long shadows as they headed towards their next destination.

Bucky’s smile was genuine, a rare and precious sight as he looked down; memorizing the way her hand perfectly intertwined with his. At that moment, he couldn’t help but think how much he wished y/n would steal him away more often.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for staying to the end of the fic. Hope you enjoy reading it!

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Summary: You are baking a cake for Bucky's birthday, but he is far more interested in the icing.

Word Count: 1,454

Warnings: nsfw, smut, oral sex (female receiving), slightly dom Bucky

“I’m not sure that you need to go through all this effort for me.”

“Of course you’re worth the effort, babe! Plus I promised everyone that they would get their favorite cakes, so now I have to deliver.”

“So essentially this isn’t for me, it’s for everyone else.” Bucky’s destructive thoughts getting the better of him, even on this auspicious day.

You put down all your baking equipment and turned to face your boyfriend, hands on your hips. “Now you listen to me, this party is to celebrate your presence on this Earth. I could not be more grateful for that. And if it means making cake to make everyone happy, I will do just that. Understood?”

Bucky nodded meekly, smiling.

The oven timer pinged letting you know that the cakes you’d baked were ready. It had been the aroma of said cakes that had attracted Bucky to the kitchen in the first place. You pulled out the fresh batch of cupcakes; they looked perfect. You were glad you’d hung out with your sister when she baked. She was a chef and made the most wonderful desserts. Bucky reached out to pick up one of the cupcakes, but you swatted his hand away.

“Not yet, you’ll ruin your appetite. Lunch first, cake is for the party. Plus you snack entirely too much and neglect your vegetables terribly.”

Bucky pouted. Why did he look so adorable when he did that? You weren’t sure if he knew how you felt about his pout, but he most certainly took advantage of that fact. You resisted his attempts at sympathy, with difficulty. Getting to work, you found the icing covering not only the cakes, but your fingers and for some reason, your face. Bucky watched you make a mess all over the kitchen counter, a mess you knew he wouldn’t help clean up. After a good half hour of creative icing and uttering a variety of profanities, you dropped two little sweets into the last cupcake.

“The sweets are meant to represent eyes,” you informed Bucky, admiring the little faces on each individual cupcake.

“I see,” was all he had to say.

“Buck, remind me never to offer to make a cake for anyone ever again.”

“I wish I were the kind of person who could stop myself from saying ‘I told you so,’ but I’m not. I told you it was a bad idea.”

If looks could kill, Bucky wouldn’t stand a chance in hell.

“Any chance you’ll help me clean this up?” You nodded at the clutter, hands held out in front of me, like a surgeon who had just scrubbed up.

“Of course,” Bucky said.

You were surprised by his answer, that is until you saw the smirk on his face. Bucky took your hand and placed your thumb in his mouth, sucking the icing clean off your skin. He worked his way across one hand, taking your whole finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your digits, sucking at the tips, the whole time looking directly into your eyes. Your breathing was heavy, panties already soaked with anticipation. Bucky leaned towards your face and you looked up in response, expecting a kiss. As he got closer, rather than aiming for your lips, Bucky licked your chin. You hadn’t even noticed that there had been icing there! He kissed you, hard, tongue in your mouth, you could taste the icing on his.

“Easy there, cream puff,” you said as Bucky pressed against you again. “You’re going to ruin the cupcakes!”

“The cupcakes are fine!” Bucky peered around you to check. In the process he noticed the tube of icing, which he grabbed excitedly.

“You’re not going to eat directly from that are you?”

“No, that wasn’t my intention. But my birthday, my choice!” Bucky quirked an eyebrow and looked you up and down. Your eyes widened as you realized what he wanted.

“Really?” you asked.

Bucky nodded and motioned you over to the couch where he stripped you of your clothes. It didn’t take long, you were only wearing shorts and one of his old t-shirts.

“Lie down.” It wasn’t a question, it was a command, a command you obeyed instantly.

Bucky climbed on top of you, straddling your hips. You noticed that his bulge was much more prominent than normal. He still had the tube of icing in his hand.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

You did.

Bucky squirted some icing onto your tongue, it tasted divine. Closing your eyes, you moaned, your chest rose as you took a deep breath.Bucky cupped one of your breasts and using the tube, drew a spiral of icing around your nipple. He moved over to the other side and did the same. You watched his eyes as he worked, they had a hungry, excited look which made you tingle. Bucky shuffled down your body until he was sitting between your legs. He disposed of his shirt and pants, leaving only his boxers and the clear signs of his arousal.

He leaned over your naked form and slowly licked the icing from you with the broad flat of his tongue. The sensation was almost explosive, even more so now that he had started to grind his hips against yours. You were starting to feel a little desperate for some skin contact. You ran your fingers through Bucky’s hair and tugged at it gently as he sucked on your other nipple.

“Bucky, is that all you’re going to be eating today?” you asked, breathily.

Bucky looked up at you and smiled wickedly, “not at all, Doll.” And with that he moved further down the couch, taking your legs in his hands and pushing them apart. He took one quick glance at your face before plunging his tongue between your folds and caressed your clit.

You cried out in pleasure, “Oh God, Bucky.”

“Doll, you taste better than the icing.”

All you could manage was a moan in response. Bucky laughed again and climbed up to your face, his whole body weight pressed against you.

“You’re not done already are you?” you asked.

“No, that was just the appetizer. I’m here for the three course meal.”

“Well you’ve certainly wet my appetite. Now get off me, I want a taste too.”

Bucky got up and pulled you to your feet. You stood face to face while you ran your fingers all over his body, placing kisses in places you knew got him excited.

“Do you want to try some of the icing?” Bucky asked as you pulled down his boxers.

“I prefer salty over sweet.” you replied, stroking him. “Why don’t we have the main course in the bedroom?”

Bucky took your hand and led the way. He lay down on the bed and you quickly brought him to his full potential with some well placed kisses and caresses. Before either of you knew what was happening, he was inside you, pushing gently at first, allowing you to adjust to his size. It wasn’t really necessary, you were ready.

“Hurry up Buck, I’m so ready for dessert.”

He was more than happy to oblige. Your hips clashed together as he pushed into you hungrily. Your hands seemed to be everywhere, greedily stealing every delicious sensation.

Suddenly Bucky slowed down. “You ready?”

His question confused you at first, but then you felt him throbbing inside you and realized that he was almost finished. You loved that about Bucky, he was always willing to wait for you, he wanted you to finish together. You shook my head. You were close, but you needed a little more stimulation. You reached down to help yourself, but Bucky got there first.

“Just tell me when, okay?” he said.

You nodded. It didn’t take much long after that, after a minute you were screaming at him that you were on the edge. He started pounding into you furiously. You clenched around him, waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Bucky threw his head back and swore as he emptied his load into you, ecstasy pumping through him with his orgasm. Bucky collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily. You lay together in silence trying to catch your breath, savoring the remnants of the bliss you’d brought each other.

Bucky spoke up first. “So you ready for dessert?”

You looked at him incredulously. “It’s your birthday, not mine!”

“I could really do with some cake.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows.

“Fuck, the cakes!” You’d forgotten to put them in the fridge. You practically fell off the bed as you rushed into the kitchen to make sure your hard work had not been a waste of time. You heard Bucky’s low rumbling laughter float after you.

[mawofthemagnetar]

The door to Doc’s lab squeaked open, and Etho shuffled in lazily. The man himself was standing at a lab bench, fiddling with something- on the bench beside him, a machine the size of a filing cabinet was whirring away noisily. Etho paid it no mind.

“Got the last of ‘em for ya.” He said, holding up a jar of blue slime and giving it a shake, “The last artifake.”

“Perfect,” Doc rumbled, peering in at something through a microscope.

“So, uh, do we have an answer? About the Iskallium eye?”

“Hmm? Yeah, we do. That’s definitely Iskall’s eye. Same materials, same composition, same power supply- matches all the diagrams he gave me when asked. Only difference is, all the artifakes are beat to hell. I don’t know what could possibly have caused these dents, man. Does Tango-?”

“Tango is saying the same thing Tango said yesterday, which is, quote, “they came with the dungeon!” Etho rolled his eyes, leaning up against a workbench that was cluttered with his hard-won artifakes, “So, ah, any luck? I’m risking my life in there for this, you know that, right?”

“You’ll respawn,” Doc muttered, holding a hand out and waggling his fingers. Etho dropped the jar of speedy slime into Doc’s metal palm with a clank, and Doc moved whatever he was examining off the microscope and set about preparing another slide.

“So,” Doc said, “There is a commonality, across all items.”

“Oh?” Etho echoed, hopping up on a bench and shoving a well-loved pickaxe out of the way, “And what’s that?”

“A dusty...residue...thing. Tastes and smells like spent gunpowder, like a rocket that’s just been fired,” Doc said, dropping a slipcover on top of the slide, “It’s fine, particulate residue.” Doc shrugged, and slid the sample of slime onto his microscope, peering in for a closer look.

“And it’s...EVERY artifake, you said?”

“And every artifact, I’ll bet. Keralis’ slippers were a goldmine- just choked with the stuff. Seriously. I put them into a bag and shook them and a ton of that dust came out.” Doc twiddled the focus knobs, and sighed.

“There's more of it. Man, and it's even, like, mixed into the slime! I’m gonna have to ask Jevin for a sample when he’s around next so I can compare.” Doc nodded, and Etho smiled behind his mask.

“Soooo... that’s it, then? The mystery of where the heck Tango got all these artifacts from is...magic dust, I guess?”

The machine dinged, like an egg timer, and printed something out on a long strip of paper. Doc extracted it, and started to read over his results.

And as his eyes scanned down the page, he went very, very still.

“Doc? What’s happening?”

“Etho. Composition of this dust...it’s rock.” Doc said slowly.

“...Rock dust? And?”

“Roughed edges. This rock has never seen water.”

“...Which means...?”

“This rock hasn’t been oxidized. Predominantly...reduced. No clay, no mica...which means...”

“Doc!” Etho sighed, “What are you trying to say, here?”

“Every single one of these artifakes is covered in moon dust.” Doc said flatly.

Etho swallowed.

“Wherever the dungeon is getting these artifacts-” Doc started, hands trembling.

“-Is someplace we didn’t get lucky last season.” Etho finished, "Ah. O...kay."

Both men stared at the jar of slime in silence.

“...Cool. Well, anyway, have fun with your crisis. I’ve got three more frozen shards left!” Etho said cheerfully, and he skipped out the door.

[inthepassengerside]

cockwarming with luke. he’s been wanting to try it and one day he gets the courage to ask you and you guys enjoy it for a little while before he whimpers and starts fucking into you and you enjoy that even more <3

can’t take it

warnings: cockwarming turning into eventual sex, dirty talk, mentions of overstimulation

a/n: this request had me shaking. it’s also veeeerrrryyy old so i’m sorry to the anon who requested this since it’s so late! the ending was hard for me to finish and it still sucks. hope you enjoy though! it’s not proofread

masterlist

It was a lazy Sunday for both you and your boyfriend Luke. You sat in the morning, enjoying your cups of coffee, watching the view from your shared apartment, and listening to a soft record spinning from the living room. It was ideal for the two of you, just being and taking in each other’s presence. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Your day continued to look like this until the evening. Sitting, watching shows, snacking, some house work. All things that didn’t require much energy, just the driven energy from each other.

The only thing was, you could tell Luke was a little on edge. It made your weekly routine feel different than usual. You were unable to pin what exactly was going on, so you let it go.

Currently, the two of you sat upstairs in your shared bedroom. You were putting away laundry and Luke was fixing up the clutter around your bed. “Gonna go shower baby,” you said to Luke, making your way over to the connected bathroom. He walked over to kiss your cheek, “Okay love.”

As you undressed and got under the warm water, you couldn’t help but try and puzzle some of the reasons why Luke was acting the way he was today. Not that he wasn’t normally affectionate, but he was kissing and hugging you more than usual throughout the day.

You just wondered if something was up emotionally. But either way, Luke had come to you about those things before, so what was holding him back now?

You stayed in the shower for about 10 minutes, washing your body and doing a quick shave before shutting off the water. You stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself before leaving the bathroom.

Luke was sat on the bed, in sweats and a tee, watching some reruns of How I Met Your Mother. Nothing irregular for the night time. You walked over and laid next to him starting to scroll on your phone.

About 5 minutes had passed before you got up and started changing, shrugging on some of Luke’s boxers and a tank top.

You had barely gotten the top over your head before you felt Luke’s arms wrap around you, burying his head into your neck. You didn’t even notice him get off the bed, but you melted into his touch anyway, “Hi baby.”

“Hi beautiful,” he whispered, pressing tiny kisses along the side of your neck and across your collarbone. You shuddered beneath him, throwing your head back, letting out a gasp.

Was this it? Was he just so needy?

You let him pull you back before your back hit the mattress and he fell over you. His eyes burning into yours and his chain dangling so close to your mouth. He moved down, kissing a trail down your stomach before shrugging off your bottoms. “Y’ love stealing my clothes, yeah?” You giggle, “of course.”

You pull him up by his chain, and his eyebrow raises tauntingly. You grab his neck and pull his head down to kiss him. The kiss is passionate, hot, and sensual. He pulls away to shrug off his shirt, throwing it somewhere along with the boxers to make a new pile of clutter he’ll have to clean up later.

Luke rolls you both over so you’re sat on his lap and you work on shrugging off his sweats. Once you do so, you press your palm against the obvious bulge in his black boxers. He lets out a whimper, “Oh fuck.”

You start to peel off your tank top, stripping until you’re bare and your boy lets out a groan. He brings up his hands to both of your tits, fondling them and pinching your nipples. You let out a squeak from the sensitivity.

He brings his mouth into the mix, running his tongue over your nipple, looking up at you. You push your fingers in his curls, “Fuuuuck Lu,” you cry.

He continues his actions, making you cry, the slurping noises that are coming from him feed into the heat of the moment. He repeats his actions on your other breast, taking his time.

When he’s done and your tits look more swollen and red than usual, he backs away and peers up at you.

Before both of you are aware, you start grinding into him. Luke lets out a groan, “Jesus christ.” You move your hips forward and backward, your clit nudging his covered length in such an intense way where you’re moaning too. You’re both starting to lose your breath.

You feel your cunt dripping. It’s soaking through his boxers, even the thick material, and you know he can feel it too.

You continue your movements, not slowing down, and it isn’t until you hear Luke gasp, “Slow down, baby, shit,” that you halt your hips. You pant too, looking down at Luke.

“Sorry, you’re just so fuckin’ hot sometimes. Can’t help myself,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m hot? I was about to come already from your soaked pussy.” His voice is deep and it makes your cheeks go red. You feel a faint smile creep onto your lips, in which he mirrors.

You rest your forehead against his for a little, silently agreeing to take things slow for the rest of the night.

Luke’s hands find your ass and palm your cheeks while you sit up again. “Can we try something tonight? I- I saw something online so I looked into it. It made me curious,” he spoke. Your eyes widened a bit. “Yeah, what is it?”

“I read about this thing… called cockwarming,” you let out a small noise at the name, “It’s just like, me inside of you..? I don’t move when I’m in,” he finishes. You notice his neck is pink and it’s creeping up to his ears. You don’t really say anything mostly because you were still thinking. Wasn’t the point of sex to release?

Luke takes your silence as a no, “Sorry, we don’t have to. I was just interested, I understand.”

“No, love, I want to try. Sorry, I was just thinking about it.” You speak quickly, hoping to calm Luke down. You could see his nerves become more visible, embarrassed. His eyes widen again, “Really? You sure?” He questions. You nod, “Yeah. It’s hot.”

You ask him about his off behavior today, “Is this why you were a little weird today?” Luke nods. You say nothing else, dragging your body down towards the band of Luke’s boxers.

You snap the elastic against him, eliciting a gasp. You tug his boxers off him, and immediately his cock springs free. Your eyes are filled with hunger as you make your way back up to stroke him. “Oh my fuck,” Luke whimpers. You smirk, unable to not notice the red tip leaking with pearly white liquid.

You drag your hand off of him and push it inside of yourself, letting out a pornographic moan. “Oh,” Luke breathes. You take your fingers out of your cunt and wrap your hand around Luke’s length again, your wetness serving as a lubricant. “Holy fucking shit, you’re so hot.”

You work him slowly, not wanting to get him so riled up before he gets inside you. You know you’ve already failed though. “Need you to sit on my cock now, love. Please,” he cries. You let out a breath and remove your hand from him.

You make your way back up his body and Luke’s hands find your ass again, caressing you and nudging you up slowly to sit on him. “Honey, you’ve gotta put me in. Can’t take it,” He cries. You reach down and grab is hard cock before pushing it inside of you as you sit.

There’s always going to be a stretch that you’ll never get used to. The burn of his long, thick member pushing inside of you. You slide down very slowly and peer up to see Luke trying his best to hold in his noises. Once your sat, Luke’s jaw is clenched as he tries to relax around you.

“Feel so good around me, honey,” Your boyfriend whispers as he grabs your waist with his hands. You clench involuntarily at his words, letting out a whimper, and he groans deeply. “F-fuck baby! Don’t clench like that, can’t take it.”

You mumble an apology, although it comes out as a moan. You try your hardest for your walls not to grip around him, but you’re like a vice. You can’t help it. His whimpers are becoming louder and louder, and you realize your ability to take the reigns.

“Bein’ such a good boy for me Lu,” your voice is shaky, trying to pretend that his cock inside of you, so deep, isn’t affecting you. But it is. His dick twitches at your words, “Mmmph,” he breathes.

Luke loved to be in charge. You both knew that. But when you were experimenting, he would always switch between between the two roles. Today, with the way he was behaving, you knew he wanted you to take power.

“Yes, yes baby. B-bein’ the best for you, yeah.”

You dig your knees further into each side of the bed, getting him to go impossibly deeper inside of you. Every movement made he swears it gets tighter. “O-oh,” he lets out in a small moan. You kiss his neck, trying to distract him from the pain that he’s unable to do anything—to use you to work himself to release.

Finally, you both are settled, truly feeling one another.

His breath is heavy. You’re able to contain yourself and stabilize your body, but Luke is the opposite. He really thought this would be easier. More enjoyable. Not that he didn’t enjoy being inside of you, but when he was so pent up, all he wanted to do was move.

Nonetheless you two sit like that for a while, kissing on each other, sucking marks into skin, and relishing in the other’s dirty words.

“Such a dirty boy for me, Lu,” you pant, your resolve slowly slipping. “So dirty for me. Your cock in my pussy, not movin’, mhmm feels so good,” you gasp, and he lets out a wail before letting his head fall atop your breasts.

He lays it there for a little longer, relishing in the feeling of you soaked and clamped around him. He focuses on trying to hold back, not to lose all his control and take you right here. But he realizes, he’s only be disobeying his own request, and while he wants to try that sometime, he needs to have you. Now.

Before you know it, Luke fucks his hips impossibly closer to yours, and you gasp. “S-sorry baby… feels too good.” He retracts his hips, pulling you up a bit, before easing himself back in.

Your breaths come out quick, certainly not expecting this, but thanking whatever compelled him to do it. Little did you know that it was you. Your little moans, your dirty whispers, and your soaked pussy. God, it had him in a spiral. If Luke could go now, he would.

His noises though, are what’s getting to you the most. Because even though he’s been bold enough to make his own decisions, he can’t suppress his little whimpers.

Luke’s eyes glass over, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, could sit here for hours.” You cry, “Y-yeah? Would you like that, love? How about I sit here… and I take what I want. Cream all over your cock over and over again and let you sit here and cry, begging for a little taste.” It’s like your cunt soaks him even more and your own words. And he feels it. “And then you’ll be so sensitive when you finally do get to cum, because i’ll just keep going baby. G’nna end up milking you dry.” You meet your hips with his, beginning to work against his thrusts.

But, your erotic words only make him fuck up into you harder, losing your rhythm you were attempting to set. His cries become louder, and all you’re hearing are his gasps and some slurred “Mmmphs.” You love him like this. Completely at your mercy.

You both get close pretty fast. Due to all the teasing, wordplay, and attempt to cockwarm, all of your feelings are heightened. Everything feels so much better than it usually does.

Luke grips your ass roughly, pushing you further into his grasp. His lips find yours, and it’s messy, yet passionate. His lips trail down from your lips to your jaw, suckling and licking. He slows his pace of fucking you, as he knows you both are close to your orgasms, and he wants to make this incredibly enjoyable for the both of you.

“Baby… I-I’m close,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. He pushes his crotch farther up into you, truly grasping onto the feeling of his cock inside of you because he doesn’t want to take advantage of it right now. It just feels too good for him to comprehend.

You sigh against him, “I know my love, me too.” He lets out a breath of relief. Thank God, he thinks, because if you weren’t right there with him, on the brink of release, he wouldn’t be able to last another few moments.

You unexpectedly topple into your orgasm first, a near scream tearing through your throat. The clenching of your cunt sends him right over the edge with you. You both express your pleasure loudly through words that humble together and loud breaths.

Luke feels your pussy soak his cock once more, and he swears you’ve never been this wet before. He’s never felt it. And he thanks himself for working up the courage to ask you to try something new because he never knew he’d get you this good.

His orgasm, along with yours, feels like absolute bliss. Pleasure tears through the both of you in insane amounts. You feel him paint the inside of you, and it will always feel impeccable. Nothing will ever come close.

“Oh my gosh,” you start to giggle against him as you collapse your body on top of his. “That was amazing, Lu.”

He kisses the top of your head once he regains composure, “Felt too fucking good. Always so good for me, my love.” He pauses. “Never felt you that wet before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever even been that wet before. Made me feel amazing, tonight Luke. Was so different.” You start tracing patterns along his chest, as he hums softly along your words.

He takes a pause and starts thinking before speaking up after a while.

“Im sorry about ruining the whole cockwarming thing, uh… got too impatient and it just felt too good,” He frowns, realizing he might’ve ruined it for you as well.

“You didn’t ruin anything for me, baby. Felt so good I don’t even care…” You pause, “Let’s just do it now? You’re still inside of me.”

Luke’s face flushes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And when we wake up, take me,” and as soon as those words leave your mouth, Luke swears he’s hardening again already.

And you feel it. “Luke!”

“We need to go to sleep… like now. If I’m conscious for another five minutes I can’t promise I won’t fuck you again,” his gaze finds yours and his eyes darken.

You look up at him, meeting his stare, returning the same energy. “Can’t say I have a problem with that, Luke.”

[witch-hazels-musings]

i'd know the difference

warning -> none, sfw, fluff <3 | happy birthday Diluc

diluc x gn reader | Anthology

His back was tired. Tense muscles ignited by the sunlight pouring through the window. Diluc rolled his shoulder, dug his fingers into his trapezius muscle, and squinted at the sharp pain that ran down his arm.

The forms on his desk hardly dwindled since this morning. He swore they multiplied each time he placed one neatly into an envelope and pressed his seal into the ruby wax.

A knock at his study drew his gaze. "Sir, Diluc, the barrels are ready for inspection." A muffled voice slipped under the doorframe, their movements silenced by the heavy wood.

"I will be there momentarily," Diluc responded as his father's fountain pen glided across the final page of a contract. Another seller from Inazuma. Requests from the sealed-away nation had increased substantially after the Raiden Shogun opened trade routes. While it meant the Winery was bound to see a profitable quarter, he was bound to see many more sleepless nights.

Diluc filed the contract away into a water-sealed container and dropped it into a small, wooden box meant for outgoing correspondence. Three other letters softened the container's fall. He hadn't even made it halfway through.

---

The halls of the Winery were filled with still light, the decorated walls made everything compact but he had grown used to the opulent clutter. As a child, he spent many hours staring at the picture frames. Distant lands he hoped one day to traverse; he did and found that each depiction served little justice to the actual thing. The ornate rug muffled his steps and he moved swiftly toward the stairs. He fussed with his vest until something soft grazed his arm.

A fresh bouquet of flowers was placed on a tall, rounded table near the balcony overlooking the lower floor. A rich, sweet, earthy aroma filled his nose. Shades of royal blue, amber, and honey mixed with lush green. He rubbed a petal with his thumb and index finger, the satin texture unaffected by the roughness of his hand.

The corner of his lips lifted.

---

"There you are," Diluc said from the garden's edge. He had a feeling you'd be out here. Hard at work preparing beautiful arrangements you'd later place in the Winery. If he wasn't careful, he'd be trapped here forever watching you weave through the swaying flowers. He thought to ask a painter to capture the scene, but, in the end, he decided against it - there were some things he preferred to keep to himself.

"Morning," you called out, rising from the flower bed. With the back of your hand, you pushed up your sun hat.

The metal click of the gate rang out as Diluc made his way into the garden, narrow paths made it difficult for him to see where his feet landed while you moved through them with practiced grace. "How long have you been out here?" he asked.

"About as long as you've been cooped up in your study. I figured once you'd ultimately emerged, you'd appreciate being greeted by something lovely," you explained as you shooed a bug away from the ends of his hair.

"So why were you not waiting for me then?" he asked, teasingly, but in his heart he was serious. Your face was the thing he enjoyed most.

You shook your head and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I'll remember that for next time." With ease, you turned down the path and made your way to a sun-bleached table holding several bundles of partially trimmed flowers. He followed after you.

Diluc watched you work. Skilled fingers stripping the stems of their leaves, the soft clipping of prunes as you, one by one, measured the height of each flower. He moved in, drawn to you like the bees to the flowers.

"You smell divine," he professed and reached to steal your hat so he could kiss your head. The sun clung to every strand of your hair and warmed his desperate lips.

"Are you sure it's not just the flowers?" you asked, chuckling softly, your hands busy with bundling a fresh bouquet.

"I'm sure." Diluc stepped closer to you, his chest pressing against your back, his fingers trailing down your arm and fixing the shawl that had fallen off while you worked. He kissed the space below your ear and breathed you in. "I'd know the difference anywhere."

You turned just enough to look into his eyes and the sight of your face made his heart beat wildly. He shielded you with your hat and, with a gentle hand he cupped your throat, his thumb held your chin so he could keep you still and let his lips linger against your own until he was satisfied.

Even in a field of flowers, none of them compared to you - none could ever compare to his favorite.

[ms-demeanor]

Okay but also putting the panic aside part of what is going on here is that I'm feeling stressed because I'm feeling helpless; I could be cleaning right now but I am at work so it's just a thing that's sitting there hovering over me and filling me with anxiety so ignoring the specifics of my weird timing and odd mess situation, here's the "So You're a Disaster Guide to Preparing Your Home for Guests"

Here are the things you should be able to offer your overnight guests:

A clean and comfortable place to sleep with clean sheets, pillows, and blankets.

A clean and sanitary bathroom with towels (and, optionally, toiletries)

Depending on the space you've got, a comfortable place to spend time outside of the area they will be sleeping in (this may also be your primary socializing or relaxing space)

Access to clean dishes and a source for (at the very least) water (and possibly snacks/drinks/meals depending on the length of the stay and your relationship to your guests).

Here's a quick guide to providing those things in the shortest amount of time possible based on order of importance.

Make sure that you've got clean bedclothes and towels for your guest; if you do not have these things immediately at hand your first priority is doing a load of laundry to get clean towels, sheets, and blankets for your guest [and wash bath mats if necessary].

Tidy the area they will be sleeping in by clearing away clutter. Your goal is to achieve an unobstructed sleeping surface (so if they're sleeping on a fold-out couch or a futon in a shared space make sure that it will require minimal effort to turn into a bed when they are ready to sleep; if they are sleeping on an air mattress move any furniture blocking the mattress out of the way and inflate the mattress then make the bed; if they are in a guest room make sure that anything stored on or near the bed is cleared away then make up the bed). Provide a space for your guest to put any travel bags and provide a place near their sleeping area for them to put their phone/medications/glass of water/etc. that they may need in the night. [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time. If you have lots of time, completely sweep or vacuum the floor of your guest's space, dust the room, and ensure that there is a power strip or phone charger handy for your guest]

Make sure the bathroom they will be using is clean and functional (it's actually a tossup for me about whether you clean the bathroom or the sleeping area first; I'm less willing to clean a bathroom while guests are present than a sleeping area so I'd say bathroom first honestly). My recommendation for this is to do things in the following order (make sure the space is well ventilated): - Spray a cleaning solution in the tub or shower, focusing on any problem areas. - Let that sit while you spray the same cleaning solution in the sink. - Let that sit while you use a brush and your preferred toilet cleaning solution to scrub the toilet bowl. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the shower/tub then rinse the shower/tub. - Use a brush or sponge to scrub the sink then rinse the sink. - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or a cleaning wipe to clean the exterior of the toilet - Use a cloth to wipe down any surfaces like the countertop - Place fresh hand towels in the bathroom - Sweep and spot-mop the floor then empty the trashcan and spot clean the mirror tada clean bathroom [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time do a full mop of the bathroom floor, clean the mirror, and dust any surfaces that need it]

Clean the kitchen in the following order: - Put away any clean dishes - Clear countertops of clutter - Wash any dirty dishes or load them into the dishwasher so that the sink is clear and rinse the sink - Use a cloth with a cleaning solution or cleaning wipes to wipe down countertops, dust appliances, and do a quick wipe-down of the range. - Place fresh hand towels in the kitchen - Sweep the floor and empty the trash [This is where you stop and move on to the next area unless you have lots of time, if you have lots of time mop the floor, do a deep clean of countertops, clean and sanitize the sink, check whether your refrigerator needs to be cleared of aging food or have any spills cleaned up, clean the kitchen range, and clean the oven door]

Prepare a living room for your guests in the following order: - Make sure there are clear seats available for at least every adult who will be in the household; pick up and put away crafts, toys, or projects that may be in the way of visitors. - Clear the surfaces of tables next to any seating options so that a seated person could easily set down a drink; consider placing coasters on each of these surfaces so they are handy if someone wants one. - Sweep or vacuum the floor as needed. [This is where you stop and move on unless you have lots of time; if you have lots of time consider vacuuming the creases of furniture, dusting shelves and surfaces in the room, and possibly cleaning the windows.]

My approach to this is basically "if you were picking someone up from the airport at midnight and bringing them back to your home, would they be able to get ready for bed and comfortably go to sleep right away?" which is why things are prioritized the way they are. Things would be different if I were cleaning in preparation for a party or if I were having people over for dinner, this is just the 'clean a house after you get off work and before you get in the car to go to LAX' list.

[myillicitaffair]

One of your girls | Carlos Sainz Jr

Summary: carlos and his lover being involved in a chaotic dynamic that comes crushing down after a misunderstanding.

Warnings: english not being my firsts language, smut, oral (f receiving), angst, toxic behaviors, swearing.

Notes: this is only the first part, lmk if you would be interested in reading the next one xx

Credits: the gif used belongs to formula one’s oficial giphy account and the inspiration for this fic comes from the song “One of your girls” by Troye Sivan.

MINORS DNI!

My sleep is interrupted by the rays of sunshine streaming through the airy window curtains, the intrusion forcing me to open my eyes.

I focus my gaze on the figure cuddled up next to me, laying on his side. The soft summer breezes playing with his already messy short waves.

I delicately watch his pacific state, the movement of his naked chest with each inhalation, his relaxed features matching the small opening of his mouth.

My fingertips search for the smooth exposed skin, slowly caressing his back, savoring the moment.

A guttural sound dies in his throat at my subtle touch, fidgeting as he feels the dissipation of his sleepy haze.

“Good morning”- i pronounce once he faces me, a small smirk forming on my lips.

“Good morning indeed”- he replies mockingly.

My torso nests in between his strong arms, finding comfort in the manly fragrance irradiated by his heat.

His lips start brushing my cheek, going down my jaw until he comes across my neck, where he starts placing wet kisses. A tingle runs through my spinal cords with anticipation.

I swiftly raise my hands to his stocky shoulders, touching every inch of his sun soaked complexion.

“I have to leave, busy day ahead…”- he says, untangling our limbs and getting up to hop in the shower.

I know this is my cue to leave soon as I hear the muttering of hot water hitting the bathroom tiles. If I didn’t know better, I would wait for him to come out the shower… past experience makes me grab my clothes, scattered all over his bedroom floor, and hurry out the door.

———————

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. After all, it´s only causing more harm than good, but a part of me can´t help but succumb to the despair of not having him near me.

Here I was, standing on Carlos´s doorway late at night; palpable tension as I knock on the all too familiar gate preceding his apartment.

There´s no denying it, I´m desperate for us to connect, even if it is at the sacrifice of my own feelings. Who cares if tomorrow morning I´m pushed away again? All that matters now are those big doe eyes staring down at me, pulling me towards him, making me ache all over for his touch.

“Wasn´t expecting you tonight”- he states while piercing me with his gaze.

“I´m sorry if now is bad timing, I ought to have an early night anyhow…”

Million feelings flashing through my mind, only one main character in all of them.

“No, it´s okay. Come on in!”- He interrupts my self-deprecating thoughts, inviting me into his house.

I look around while stepping inside, noticing papers cluttered all over the living room, scathed dirty mugs sitting on the coffee table, his usually flawless work attire bunched up near the corner of the chamber.

“Didn´t have time to tidy up”- he excuses himself while facing me.

I realize I failed to notice his fatigued demeanor, the dark circles framing his tired features.

Reaching out for his sharp cheekbones with my fingers, I try kissing his baseless worries away.

Innocent pecks rapidly turn into passionate making out, all tongue and touchy grabs that linger with time.

Still entwined in a fight for dominance, he leads me back to his couch, pushing every folder out of the way and placing himself on top of me.

His calloused hands streak down my skin, stripping me off of every piece of clothing they stumble with across the way. I find myself reaching for the collar of his white t-shirt, trying to free him of his garments.

Leaving behind a trail of heat, his touch reaches for my underwear, glancing at me through his eyelashes asking for permission. I nod frantically, eager to feel his attentions where I need him the most.

His mouth reaches for my sensitive nub, flicking his tongue while devouring my glistening slit. My fingers automatically tangle in his hair, bringing him closer.

His throbbing erection dry humping my leg while eating me like a starved man. The familiar crescendo starts quickly growing on my lower stomach, accompanied by desperate moans and grunts.

The tension surrounding his home´s environment snaps by the answering machine´s high pitched beeps, anticipating a new incoming message.

“Carlos, it´s me again”- a female voice announces- “You promised you´d call me back as soon as possible. I know you´re there, love, would you please just pick up?”

I sit back up against the couch´s headboard, indignation flowing through me as tears start accumulating on my eyes.

I cover my abdomen with my discarded top, getting dressed as fast as possible.

“I can explain”- he states, trying to get a hold on my wrists.

“I don´t want to hear another fucking excuse, Carlos”- I spit my answer back, filled with venom.

Reaching for my purse, I take one final look at his still naked silhouette.

“I´m sick and tired of being just one of your girls! I honestly can´t do it anymore… not when I spent the whole time we´ve known each other in love with you”- I confess, out of breath by the sobs torn from my parted lips.

“If you could just listen to me, I promise you I…”

“Save it!”- I interrupt, blinded by anger while I twist the doorknob on my way out.

Running down the hallway, I don’t even attempt to hold the uncontrollable whimpers that fill the unbreakable silence. Hopping on the elevator, willing to go back home with an unamendable broken heart, I can´t believe how I stupid I was to ever believe he could reciprocate my feelings.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 19

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: in the words of Miley, we won't stop.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You stare at the mirror, at the woman you don’t know. The faucet runs as you’re tempted to splash the water over your face and wash away the stranger. As another diner enters, you twist off the tap and shake off the trance. You grab a strip of paper towel and dry your hands, tossing it before you exit.

The interior of the restaurant is just as pleasant as the outside. The back wall has flowers and vines painted across it as all the others stand it bright pure white. The tables are thick wood and edged with matching benches and chairs. You’d almost rather be inside than out.

As you come outside, the sun glares in your outline. You approach the archway that opens onto the patio and stop short as another figure meets you there. The new arrival is only a tall silhouette as the daylight stands at their back.

“Pardon, ladies fir–” The nicety is swallowed down halfway and your name bubbles up in its place. You don’t recall Mr. Laufeyson even saying your name; it was always ‘maid’ or nothing else. “Ah, there you are.”

Silence. The light limning his figure shifts and he comes clearer. His sights narrow as he considers you and he runs a hand down his lapel. His lips part slightly as if he means to say something but his teeth snap shut at second thought. He flutters his fingers, speechless and you wilt. You know you look silly, like a little girl wearing her mother’s pearls.

“Uh, Mr. Laufeyson,” you address him awkwardly and glance around. You can feel him staring as you clutch the seams of the dress and rock on the balls of your feet, “we… we’re just over there.”

You point through the archway then follow the gesture. You step through as he follows, his soles softly touching the boards of the patio. You pull your fingers from around the fabric and ball your hands to fist.

As you near the table, he gets closer. You can feel him looming as a growl grits from his throat; ‘what is he…’ He doesn’t finish the question and instead clears his throat.

“Allow me,” he goes to step forward as your eyes meet Frigga’s glittering green irises and Thor cranes to follow her gaze. He stands as you close in, waving away Laufeyson’s reach as he grips the back of your chair.

“Lady,” Thor bows his head gallantly, “we were worried you got lost, rather you’ve found my brother.”

“I might have this seat,” Loki insists before you can sit, “why don’t you sit with my mother?”

“She’s fine as she is,” Frigga insists, “all her things are there.”

Your barely touched cranberry juice weeps in the tall glass and the shopping bags clutter under that side of the table. You peek at Mr. Laufeyson but only get a glimpse of his throat as it tightens. You quickly put your head down and sidle around to sit in the chair. Thor pushes it in under you.

“Well, sit, we’ve been waiting,” Thor insists as he draws his hand away to clap his brother’s shoulder. You only catch a sliver of Laufeyson shrugging him off before stomping around to the empty seat. “We’re starving.”

“And what is he doing here?” Laufeyson asks his mother as he ignores his brother.

“Loki,” she reaches to touch his sleeve, “please, you two are too old for this.”

“For what? You didn’t tell me he was coming. It’s only decent–”

“Brother, please,” Thor leans forward as he clasps his large hands together, “I’ve come to make amends. I’m not too sure what I’ve done, but whatever happened at father’s, I never meant to drive you out.”

Laufeyson lashes Thor with a venomous look. His jaw ticks and his cheek twitches. He's about to boil over, as if the apology is an insult in itself. He takes a breath and lets it out, unlocking his jaw.

“I apologise for keeping you all waiting,” Laufeyson evades a direct response, his eyes flitting over to you, “I lost track of time.”

Your eyes cling to his as the tension drains from his brow and he tilts his head slightly. Again, he seems as if he means to say something, and unlike himself, he restrains his thoughts. He looks down at the waiting menu and you do the same. You imagine there will be a lecture for overextending his mother’s generosity.

As you peruse the selection, a tense silence invades the table. You all focus on the listings, a necessary distraction. As you keep your eyes on the menu, hiding from the other diners, you feel a tickle along the side of your leg.

Thor’s hand rests on his thigh, knuckles pressing against yours as he sits wide on the seat. You try to ignore the touch, assuming it's unintentional and focus on the menu. He slowly shifts and turns his hand, brushing his fingertips along your skirt. You squirm and bend your leg over the other to elude him.

You settle on a simple dish; caprese on a croissant. You sit up and reach for your drink, Thor’s hand lingering on the edge of your chair. What is he doing?

Your ears are alight and you feel the sweet about to break through on your forehead. You sip and your eyes meet another pair. Laufeyson has a finger pressed to the menu but he’s unbothered by its contents. He’s watching you.

You bite your cheek and put your glass down. There’s a sheen of gloss left on the rim. You take the folded cloth napkin and dab your around mouth, paranoid of a smear. You ring the fabric as you lower it to your lap and glance over at Thor’s tapping fingers, crawling closer yet again.

The table jolts suddenly. Frigga gasps and Thor grunts. He sits up and rescinds his hand, his attention flashing across to his brother. The two glare at each other.

“Apologies,” Laufeyson makes a show of rubbing his thigh, “I had a cramp. Did I get your toe?”

“Eh, it’s fine,” Thor grumbles, his thumb circling against the side of his knuckle.

“You two,” Frigga tuts, “please, you’re making a scene.”

“It was an accident,” Laufeyson insists, “I was in a car for far too long and now my muscles are all knotted.”

“I keep telling you, you need a proper regiment,” Thor intones, a taunt in his tone, “at our age, we need to stay active.”

“I’m active,” the black-haired brother rolls his eyes, “don’t presume you know anything about me or my life.”

“Hm, your house may be big but roving the halls like a ghost isn’t exercise,” the blond chortles.

Laufeyson huffs and shakes his head. He returns his attention to the menu as you stare at the table. You don’t quite understand. You don’t have siblings so you don’t know where this kind of animosity would come from. While your dad isn’t entirely loving, you know why he is the way he is. 

But these two, they have everything anyone could ever want and they only seem bitter. They have a family, they have wealth and all that comes with it. All that and they expect even more.

“You know, Loki, it would do you well to get out more,” Frigga suggests, “it’s a lovely house but so… grim, these days. Perhaps you might consider an update. That might help–”

“I get out,” Laufeyson insists, “please, have I only been invited to be lectured?”

“Well, darling,” Frigga squeezes his elbow, “we didn’t see you for a whole year after the divorce. We worry–”

“Don’t,” he commands, “I’m fine. The divorce is well past done. I’m over it, so why can’t you move on?”

“Ah, but it is hard to get over a lady like Sif–”

“Shut up!” Laufeyson snaps at his brother, “don’t–”

“Loki,” Frigga girds, “please.”

“No, I do not want his opinion on my wife. On my marriage. Can we stop beating this dead horse, already?”

You make yourself as small as you can. You shouldn’t be there. You’re hearing things you have now business knowing. You look around and the image of running out of the restaurant glints through your mind. It’s tempting even if it would be a bit insane. 

“So let’s talk about something else,” Laufeyson sighs, “how was your day, mother? You two seem to have been quite successful.”

“I’d say,” Thor agrees as you feel him look at you.

“Oh, it was wonderful. Eliana took care of us, isn’t her hair lovely?” Frigga preens, “and she’s such a sweet girl, isn’t she? Everything looks so lovely on her. Dear, didn’t you have a good day?”

You gulp and peek up. You pick your nail and nod, “yes. Thank you. It was… very nice of you to include me.”

“Ah, she is so polite,” Thor booms as his hand once more goes to the back of your chair. “How do you put up with him, sweetheart?”

You frown and shake your head, “huh?”

“My brother? How can you do it?”

“She is rather adept at her work,” Laufeyson sneers, “I am the least of her tasks.”

“I wasn’t asking you, was I?” His brother retorts.

“I… I do my job,” you press your palms flat to each other.

“I’d call him hard work, indeed,” Thor guffaws.

“Thor,” Frigga hisses, “be nice.”

“I am,” Thor says defensively, “I kid. Gods, it isn’t my fault he cannot take a joke–”

He grips the chair as he lets his thumb stroke the back of your collar. You sit forward slightly, wiggling to the edge of the chair. You bring your hands to hug your glass. Laufeyson fidgets with the cutlery wrapped in a napkin.

“Jokes are usually funny,” Laufeyson utters and shifts in his seat, “where is the damn waiter?”

👠

No words are exchanged as you approach the car. Mr. Laufeyson is particularly dour as he opens the door for his mother, then you. He sweeps around to claim the driver’s seat and turns the engine so it whirs softly. He steers out into the lull of traffic, twisting his hand on the leather wrapped wheel.

“That was a lovely lunch,” Frigga breaks the frigid sheet of silence, “wasn’t it?”

“Food was good,” Laufeyson agrees.

She exhales as you shrink down, hoping to blend in with the shopping bags.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I thought you two could make up. After what happened–”

“Mother,” Laufeyson breathes and his eyes glance in the mirror, “we’ll talk about this later.”

“And what about your father?” She prompts.

“I said, later.”

“Mm, yes, sorry, darling,” she apologises again, “why don’t you leave me off at the house and take her home? It’s been a long day.”

“It’s only four-thirty,” he replies.

“Yes, well, we did a lot of running around. I’m certain the darling could use some time. She has her father to worry about.”

“It’s alright, I don’t–”

“No, no, you’re right, mother, it has been a very long day already,” Laufeyson interjects.

You clamp your mouth shut. You’re a marionette being pulled between their strings. It’s not about what you want. You’re not heard. They take you out and put you away like a toy.

“Dear,” Frigga chimes, “thank you so much for today. I had a lovely time.”

You don’t realise at first she means you, not until Laufeyson says your name. Again. Maid. Call me maid, that’s all I am.

“Oh, no, thank you, Frigga,” you say, “it was really nice of you to bring me. I…it’s really too much.”

“Not enough, dear, not enough. I hope the next time I’m in town, we might have another day out,” she trills.

“If you like,” you concede.

The rear view mirror stares back at you. Laufeyson’s snakish gaze makes you squirm as he idles at a light. Have you said the wrong thing? A honk comes from behind him as the light turns green and he quickly presses on the gas.

You sink back into silence, this one airier. You watch out the window as the car rolls through the streets and you take it all in. You’ve lived in this city your whole life and you haven’t seen half of it.

He arrives at his gates and opens the gate with the switch clipped behind the rear view mirror. He drives through and the doors unlock loudly. Frigga gets out and he does the same as he helps her sort through the bags on the other side of the back seat.

You’re startled as Laufeyson bends to peer through, saying your name a third time. You flinch and look at him as he holds a cluster of bags.

“I’ll be only a moment to get mother settled,” he explains, “feel free to move to the front.”

He closes the door and leaves you to mull his unprompted explanations. You could stay as you are but that feels weird. He would be like a chauffeur or taxi driver. That’s awkward and you’re already torturously strange.

You let yourself out of the car and slide into the front seat. Frigga’s perfume clings to the suede as you pull the seat belt down. You watch the leaves of a lush tree rustle as you wait. As the driver’s side opens, you let out a squeak.

Laufeyson swings inside and pulls the door shut. He adjusts himself as he fits his long legs under the wheel and grasps the wheel with one hand. You turn your head straight and stare off at the house’s facade.

“Thank you for driving me, Mr. Laufeyson,” you murmur.

“Mm, it is no issue,” he assures as he slowly shifts into gear, the car lazily following the arc of the driveway back to the gate.

You flick your thumb nervously against your index. Your foot wiggles and your knee jitters. You can’t sit still.

“I hadn’t a chance to mention…” he begins, pausing to consider his words, “you…” he leans forward to look both ways before continuing onto the avenue, “you look very… nice.”

“Oh,” you still yourself and focus on the dash, “thank you, Mr. Laufeyson. You’re mother’s a very kind woman.”

“She is,” he says, “I… I knew she would know best.”

“Um, if it’s too much, erm, you can take the clothes back–”

“Nonsense, keep them. They are for your work,” he rebuffs coolly.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He doesn’t reply. Only sighs. You carry on without speaking. You wouldn’t want to distract him from driving. You're still waiting for that lecture. You steel yourself for the words; ungrateful, selfish, lazy...

The car grows suffocating. He pulls into your neighbourhood and slows before your house. You swiftly hit the button on the seat belt, ready to run inside. 

“I could help with your bags,” he offers.

“N-no, Mr. Laufeyson, that’s… okay,” you say a bit too quickly. You wouldn’t want him to see more than he already has. Besides, your father was never fond of visitors. “Thanks.”

“Right, yes,” he accepts, “regular hours tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Hm,” he hums but does not comment. He sounds almost disappointed.

“Have a good night,” you say as you climb out of the car.

“You too,” he mutters so quietly you’re not even sure he truly spoke.

You open the back door and gather up the remaining bags. It’s awkward as you slide them out with a loud crinkle. It feels unearned.

“You know,” he turns, his hand on the headrest of the passenger’s seat, “I did tell you a dozen times about the clothes.” He looks you up and down, “much better.”

He unhooks his arm from the seat and turns back to face the windshield. You nod, struck dumb and mute, and elbow the door shut. You turn and head down the overgrown walk and climb the creaky steps of your father’s porch. You pause at the top and glance back as the car remains unmoved.

Through the tint, you can see Mr. Laufeyson’s shadow. It looks almost as if he has his head on the steering wheel, gripping it as he hunches forward. The light must be playing tricks on you. You turn and continue on to the front door.

You hesitate to enter as the dingy siding feels you with guilt. Here you are with a handful of shopping and a belly full of gourmet food. Don’t forget where you come from, it’s where you’ll always be. Fancy clothes or not.

[leaentries]

Please can we talk about Nico when his gf is having a bad body day, just feeling a little sad/insecure. (me atm)🥺

I love how your blog is for chubby girls btw💗

my heart ❤️ he would be so sad and his big ole brown puppy dog eyes would get so big

here’s a lil blurb to kick off my return to writing 🕺

also i’m writing this on my phone so the format might be slightly different…sorry😋

your mind was cloudy, the world just seemed darker today. something about the way your outfits clung to your body just didn’t seem right.

your floor was littered in different items of clothing, having tried on what seemed to be everything hanging in your closet.

tonight was the first night in a long while that nico was able to plan something nice for the two of you. making reservations at a fancy restaurant, booking a hotel room for the night, the whole nine yards. you should be happy, ecstatic that you are finally getting your boyfriend all to yourself, but, in this moment, all you wanted to do was cry.

tears threatened to spill as you stared into the mirror. the fabric of the dress hugging your body in all the ways you hated, you felt suffocated.

you choked back a sob as you violently unzipped the dress and threw it somewhere amongst the rest. sitting on the edge of your bed, clad in nothing but a bra and some panties, you looked helplessly at the tsunami of clothes. you wanted nothing more than to feel beautiful in your own skin. to feel worthy of going out with nico.

the salty drops cascaded down your face faster than you could will them away. you were lost, not knowing what to do from here. a loud knock echoed through your apartment, drawing a small, “Fuck,” from your panicked lips.

nico was here and you weren’t even close to being ready. dread filled your chest knowing how excited he is and how his beaming smile is what’s gonna greet you the second you open the door. you quickly grab the nearest oversized sweater, throwing it over your head as you make your way to the entrance.

you take a deep breathe before gripping the metal handle and carefully opening the door.

your heart melted and broke all at the same time. nico stood tall, dressed in his all black suit, the one he knew you loved, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you felt a new batch of tears quickly begin to build in your vulnerable state.

you didn’t want to ruin nico’s night with something a minuscule as being insecure. you wouldn’t hurt him like that. before your tears could fall, you plastered on a small smile, letting nico walk in the apartment.

his happy features dropped slightly upon seeing your sweater, “What’s wrong, schatzi? Why aren’t you dressed?” his tone filled with worry.

you shook your head, opting to give him a little fib, “I’m just having a hard time finding something that fits tonight, Neeks.”

He smiled cheekily, taking it upon himself to place the flowers in a mason jar, “Let me put these in water first, then I will come help.” You gave him a slight nod, before returning to your cluttered room. A deep sigh left your lips, realizing that Nico is gonna see the inside of your brain that now lays upon your bedroom floor.

“Oka- Whoa.” nico’s words died in his throat as he glanced around the space.

You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed at the mess. “I know, I know! I just couldn’t find anything to wear! and i felt like i needed to try on everything and nothing worked and-” Nico cut you off.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not judging. I think you forget I have a sister, i’m not new to this.” He walks in, eyes scanning the pile carefully. He picked up a black dress, once that just-so-happened to match his suit. “Here!” he flashed his dimples at you, “This is perfect. Put this on, f’me, schatzi, you’ll look beautiful.”

You gently took the dress, clutching it to your body.

He placed a quick kiss to your temple before walking out, “I’ll wait outside the door, just shout if you need anything.”

You stripped yourself of the sweater, pulling on the black dress. Normally, you’d admire the way the intricate details of the fabric or the way it tied gracefully in the back, but you only found yourself criticizing as you stood in the floor length mirror once more. Your eyes dragged over each spot you hated.

The way you thought your legs didn’t look quite long or skinny enough, or the way your tummy wasn’t flat. Even the way your hip-dips stood out more prominently in your opinion, it all just seemed overwhelmingly visible. Too lost in thought, you missed the door opening and a certain swiss making his way into the room.

Nico’s eyes focused on the way yours filled with disgust at your body, the way you were picking at every inch. He wasn’t oblivious to your insecurities, although he would never understand why you felt that way. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous and genuine woman he’d ever met. You were perfect and even better, you were his.

He took his place behind you placing his hands gently on your hips. You jumped slightly startled by his sudden appearance.

“This is more than just finding an outfit, schatzi.” His eyes meet yours through the mirror, “What’s really going on?”

His soft words broke the damn that you’d been trying so hard to keep from cracking. Your head dipped down as a sob left your throat. Nico immediately moved to stand in front of you, pulling you into his chest.

His hand came up to stroke your hair softly, as you cried into his shirt, “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby.” Nico tried his best to console you, whispering comforting words into your ears.

“C’mon, take some deep breaths for me.” He pulled your head from his chest, hands moving to cradle your face. He began to breathe slowly, encouraging you to breathe with him. One you had regained some air, you looked up at him.

“M’ sorry, Neeks.” You sniffled, “I’ve just been having a bad day and I kept putting on different outfits, but I just felt…” You trailed off, trying to find the right word. His big doe eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I just feel ugly.”

Nico felt his heart physically throb. How could his beautiful girl see herself as ugly? Doesn’t she know that he wishes he could see her for the first time, just so he could fall in love with her all over again? Nico was at a loss for words. He genuinely couldn’t grasp how someone, let alone yourself, could ever think you were ugly.

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the simple word that left the man’s mouth.

“…No?” You were confused.

“Listen to me,” He turned your bodies back to your original position, “You see these legs? These are the most gorgeous, most soft, most warm legs that I could ever want. The way they work as a perfect pillow,” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Or the way that they wrap around my head.”

Your breath began to pick up as he began to list off every part of your body and the reasons why he loved them. He picked apart your insecurities and replaced them with love and desire.

“But more of all, this girl.” His eyes rose to meet yours once more, “This girl is the most beautiful and precious person that I have ever had the privilege of knowing. This girl is my girl. My pretty girl.”

You felt a new flood of tears, this time because of the vast amounts of love radiating from Nico.

“Thank you, Neeks” You felt the need to thank him, thank him for dealing with you.

“Don’t thank me. I would give up anything just for the opportunity to tell you how pretty you are.”

His hands began to untie the back of the dress, only stopping when your hands came up to hold his in place.

“What about dinner?”

He smirked at you, “Screw dinner, let’s just go to the hotel room.” You turned in his grasp as the dress slowly fell to pool at your feet. Nico tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth at the slight of your exposed skin. “Because right now I want nothing more than to spend the night between my favorite pair of legs.”

[hummingbird-games]

2023 In Review (Indie Games)

Last year's! | 2021

I apologize in advance for how long this might be. As a reminder, I don't bash games here so even if I hated something with every fiber of my being...I ain't sharing. As a second reminder, my more in depth reviews and live blogging has moved to Gem's Game Gems so I don't clutter the HBG's main blog. Okay. ON WITH THE REVIEW!!

DEMOS

Diffraction (Demo)- A rainy day otome indeed. I love the quiet gentleness of this game, the two romance options, and the fact that our MC is a photographer and struggling with her art and stack of life "failures" (because...SAME!!)

Alaris - I was asleep and now I am awake: I came late for the advertised fae and dragon lore, stayed seated and waiting for Fenir zjgjdf. Oh, and I guess the mystery surrounding our MC's abilities LOL.

The Summit Library - When I say I was maaaaaad when I realized I blew through chapter 1 and would have to go back to waiting for more content??? LOL, I was very miffed. Anyhoo, check out this title for the gorgeous art, another intriguing mystery (like what is *up* with the magic in the poor library?? who or what is to blame?? 👀) and of course the lovely characters we've been introduced to thus far.

Of Sense and Soul - I'm a regency romance girl. Like after you strip away the other stuff, I am but a poor woman with simple needs: a good ass love story 🤧💛 It's about the yearning and the slow burn and the will they/won't they/PLEASEEE they...I've never been so charmed by a demo, and the full game is going to be amazing I just know it!

Made Marion - This project is a game I've been keeping tabs on for a hot minute but hadn't taken the time to sit and properly enjoy the demo. I'M SO GLAD I DID!!! It's in early access now, so I'm hoping eventually I'll be able to carve out some time to play, but guysss Velvet Cupcake is doing the Thing?!? No idea which love interest I'll go for first, but I had a fun time meeting the Nottingham peeps in the demo.

Herotome (Super Demo) - Oh gosh. Oh gosh oh gosh oh my GOSHHH. Where do I even began?? (Really the question is where the hell do I end because this is one of those projects I talk about a lot/think about a lot and surprisingly haven't run out of things to say zkjfksjd). Another game I've been following for a while, it 100% lives up to the superhero genre in its aesthetic, the characters you interact with, the music and sound design, and of course the slowly unfurling story. Jade and Mia had come out as my top faves, Warden is still there, like hovering in the backgroud, shhhh but I have a special place in my heart for Griffin too (that conversation we have with her?? I have so many screenshots just so I can go back and reread and sear the words in my brain. Like a weirdo. Yup.)

Celestial Crowns - Stats building, celestial royalty, dating sim where you fuck around and find out your choices directly affect your MC's personality?? I'm sat. I supported the Kickstarter and now I try to practice patience for the full game's release siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighh.

OTOME/JOSEI JAM

Please note this is a SUPER abridged list for my sanity and I fell a little more in love with these 2 jams with each entry I played...

Intertwine - As embarrassing as it sounds, I've never given much thought to the "red string" thing, and I consume more than enough romance media LOL!! But Van is suuuuuch a beautiful man, the UI for this game is so interactive and lovely, the music is ALSO lovely, just lovely-love all the way around teehee. (Also this game encourages replayabillity so like, do with that info what you will.)

Spring Boy [Demo] - I believe this game is going through a complete rehaul, so my thoughts and feelings refer to the original jam entry I played. The art is bright and cute and it's a super super short demo, but I was intrigued by the other student we meet on our mission to plead with our professor about our bombed exam lol!

Assignment Due: Project Blue - IRl group projects??? Suck absolute ass. Group projects with a guy name Asher?? Suddenly it's my new favorite thing in the world 😁

Cryptid Campaign Manager [DEMO] - Remember the last time I looked over a cryptid dating sim??? Remember how I was SUCH a fool?? Good thing I didn't make that mistake again!! The prologue is such a tease but you get an idea of what the full game is gonna be like, and I'm excited to see where my career involving love (and politics) goes!

Heart Cage [Demo] - Yoooooo I stay my ass far far far away from yanderes (could never get into the trope or the character type). WELP. Guess I just needed to keep searching because I really downloaded this off a whim--well, the whim being one of my fellow dev peers playing and rating-- and proceeded to get sucked in 🤧I thought being a detective would be the highlight, but I guuuueeesssss I was more into the romance options than I thought. Oops.

Evernight - I tried to explain what this game meant to me on the side blog, but words failed me. I still don't know what to say other than I loved it?? Which is like ummm I say I love everything, and yeah I'm easy to please BUT Y'ALLLLLL if you play no other game, play this one. Please. Date a werewolf. Or a vampire. Or a fae. Plz. Also figuring out the mystery of your MC's abilities and past is just delightful, ugh.

Bright Oak (demo) - Anotha one I wrote about on the side blog!!! Play this one!!! The writing is lush and atmospheric and the characters are all delightful and it's another game with a mystery to untangle!

The Faithfulness of the Universe- This one gets the award for most unique all around entry that I played. Theeeeee prettiest pixel art to bless my eyeballs, and this tasty mystery concerning Fate and witch Faustina's future (or lack thereof 👀) and what it all means. As a player I very much want to know what it all means!

A Cup For All Seasons - Another game that needs its flowers y'all. It's short but super healing and super cozy and the voice acting and music really tie the gaming experience together???

The Working Woman's Guide to Burning Bridges - DEMO - It's the way I played the demo twice and I've been thinking about it ever since 😭😭😭🙃 obviously life happens and things come up, plus this was a demo. But. BUT!!! I am on my hands and knees prayinnggg the team gets together again to finish the game. I love playing as a stressed, lowkey bitter hot mess who doesn't have her life together 😂somehow the fictional version is soooo much more entertaining!!!

Keyframes (Spring Demo) - After the game College Craze, this is legit THE college, slice of life visual novel of my dreams. I cannot wait for the updated demo next year, and the Kickstarter whenever that rolls around. And now that the developer is on Tumblr, I've definitely been stalking the account and reading each new post like it's my day/night/weekend job 🤧

Hello Counsel 💋 - Okay I take it back, Evernight is like a 20/10 but Hello Counsel is like an 100/10 👁️👄👁️ This game is necessary for my mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health, alright? The banter ✅ the character designs ✅ the music ✅ the sizzling chemistry between Poise and Salem ✅ I wish this game had more buzz because IT'S SO GOOD!!! (also the dev, Miseri, is who I wanna be when I grow up. I've made it through almost their whole backlog of games and there are no misses and EVERY game is different from the rest and it makes it hard for a toodler dev--ME--to cope LOL)

Candied Hearts - Isekaied into a candy themed game?? Sign me TF UP!!! (Peppermint I love you dearly, you must understand.)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

The Knight's Dilemma - I don't even know how I originally stumbled upon this??? I just know it had been in my backlog for a hot minute and I was intrigued enough to save it way back when. Y'ALL WHY DIDN'T I PLAY SOONER SKJFHFJFH! There's a couple different endings, I loved the voice direction, AND it's such a simple concept of a game that was just executed beautifully.

Trouble Comes Twice - If I had to make a top 5 list of romance VNs, guess who makes the list?? Guess. Guess guess guess. Have you guessed yet??? LOL! I have been in love with TCT since it's development days and with each passing month, waiting in anticipation, playing the Pateron beta builds, screaming on the main blog about every single thought I had about Jace and Hazel (shoutout to Jace for helping me figure out *me*) Lol if you're curious about said thoughts, those posts are on this blog and not the side blog.

Aelfric the Wondrous - 10/10 would love to forget my first play through JUST to have that experience fresh again 😭😭💛Cute and funny and a wonderful parody type game all around.

A Summer's End - Hong Kong 1986 - Goodness, there's no excuse for why this took me years to finish but anyhoo, I finished, I loved it, I recommend it! It's romantic and achingly authentic and the art is soooo gorgeous I literally can't stand it 😭

The Things You Do For Love - Unhinged yandere manages to entertain and garner sympathy and laughter from Gemini. And that poly ending is chef's kiss too????

Band Camp Boyfriend - There are a handful of games I found and loved before I began my game development journey, and this is one of them. BCB is so dear to me, because of the story and characters but also because of the Dynamic Duo creators and their team behind the scenes. I was never a band kid I was a chorus kid but just as the band geeks loved this game to pieces, us normal folks do too!! Even the boys who I didn't like I STILL managed to find joy in playing their routes (still have a few more to finish at the time of this posting lol, GOTTA GET THE FINAL ROUTE YO). Anyway, this game more than delivered for me and I hope more people keep discovering it!!

Belle Automata: Chronicle I [RELEASED] - While only Chronicle 1 is out at the time of this posting, I already know that the 2nd and 3rd parts are going to be just as amazing???? I wrote about this one on the side blog, so here's my copypaste that still rings true:  

I love TNP (The Nightmare Prince) but Victor’s route hit the sweet spot for me. Maybe it’s the slow(er) burn nature of this route, maybe it’s the reserved nature of Victor and watching him slowly start to care (AND NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THOSE FEELINGS TEEHEE) for me.

A Date with Death - I wrote about this on the side blog--again--. The demo. And then right after finishing a route. And then again where I was fully awake and still managed to sound deranged. No copypaste for that, I shall be nice. But yeah!! Another game where I was screaming at the sky about how much I love it and how I'll never know peace as long as I live.

Our Life: Baxter DLC - I need to offer an official apology to both Cove and Derek because falling head over heels, down the stairs, crashing into the parking lot, falling again but down a manhole for Baxter's infuriating ass was NOT on my 2023 bingo board??? HELLO???? I bought his DLC just to complete my OL collection. Was not expecting to love it this much. Was not expecting to be called to write fanfic and abandon all responsibilities to do this. WHILE DOWN WITH COVID TOO. Allow me to play the song of my people. *Send in the Clowns plays*

Our Cinderella - (this is so funny I'm taking about a side game before the main game LOLOLOLOL) Guys. Guysss. You guyyyysss 🥹if you're looking for a cozy, hilarious, equally oddly and wonderfully sweet short game, this is the one!! You may have your personal favorite Iggy ship (like me) but all the pairings are so amazing and just make sense lol!

Wylde Flowers - This is the only non visual novel game on here but it gets the spotlight because I did NOT spend 90+ hours on this game to gatekeep this beauty. No. It the coziest, the funniest, the funnest, the most addictive Switch game (after Teacup) I've ever played.

Fully Released (& still on 1st playthrough)

Garden of Seif: Chronicles of an Assassin - Life kicked my butt and then sat on me SO while I finally got my grubby hands on the full copy, I still have only played the entirety of the demo. But. We will return to this in 2024 and hopefully I'll have a full review for the next wrap up!

Our Wonderland - I looked back at the side blog and I can't believe it was only THIS year that I started OW??? Because I'd known of the game and the dev for longer than that??? So basically what I'm saying is that I was chicken shit for longer than I've been in love with this world that Developer Carrot has created kjzhhshggj. But OMG to get me, who is scared oh so easily to get hella invested in this clearly labeled horror game??????????????? And even with shit gets super absurd and hella disturbing, I cannot stop playing. At the time of this post, I'm only in Act 4, hence the category above, but it's only because I play each act in a sitting and lose track of space and time and myself. That's a compliment btw.

...

Okie!! That's 2023 in a nutshell! I played a looooot of really good games this year and while I would have liked to talk about them all, I think this list provides a nice overview.

Let me know if we share any favorites!

- Gemini 💛

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 2

I just could not stop thinking about this. Have some more. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Warnings!: Still none! Inexperienced reader! I guess?

Dracule huffed, nose scrunching at the taste of the shoddy peppermint tea that he'd chosen for the cabin boy to fetch him. Across the table, Sengoku raised a brow at the pirate.

“What? Not to your liking, Hawkeye?” He mocked lowly and is swiftly delivered a scathing glare from the yellow-eyed man.

Mihawk sniffs and sets the tea away, done with it, “Not my taste at all, Fleet Admiral,” he drawled. No. The only peppermint tea he wanted was yours, and it had been far too long since Dracule had laid eyes on you. Several weeks too long, in fact.

Sengoku scoffs and sits back in his chair. The warlord meeting had gone about as well as he had thought, with only Mihawk and Doflamingo showing. The pink idiot had shown his ass for half an hour before bugging out, stating he had more important matters to attend to.

“Whatever. Get the hell out of here, Mihawk,” The Fleet Admiral grouched, and the warlord happily rose and left without a word. Hawkeye went straight to his ship and hoisted the sail before turning east. It would take several days for him to reach your island.

To say that Mihawk is in a shit mond when he finally arrives at your island would be an understatement. The seas had not been kind to him, and it had left him soaked to the bone and desperate for a hot cup of tea.

The warlord doesn't waste any time, tossing his anchor and flashing to the shore. A permanent scowl is etched across his face as he stomps through the underbrush until he arrives at your quaint cottage. He shakes himself off any water once he stands under your stoop and then raises his hand to knock.

Dracule listens, sharp ears picking up the sound of Hank's nails on the hardwood and then the soft steps of your feet. The door is yanked open, and the furious scowl on your face disappears the moment you lay eyes on the soaked bird in front of you.

“Mihawk? Shit, come in here. You're soaked!” You grab his jacket without thinking and tug the warlord inside quickly. You flutter away and come back with a couple of fluffy towels that you hand over to him, “Gimme your hat and jacket. I'll hang it by the fireplace.”

Dracule huffed and found himself doing as you ordered. He strips off his hat and shrugs out of his coat to hand it over. His lips curl when he sees your eyes flick over his body and your face pink up. You turn and leave before he can decide to do something about it. He huffs and then takes advantage of the towels that you gave him.

You come back to see him stoking the embers of the fireplace, towel hanging around his shoulders, “Thank you, Darling,” he murmurs and hands you the one that he'd used to dry his hair.

You clear your throat, “Ah. You're welcome. Is everything okay?” You ask and take the towel back to the bathroom before you begin to clear away the seating, tucking away the gardening books you have spread out. You had not expected to see Mihawk so soon, not that you were complaining.

Hawkeye dips his head in a nod, “Fine. The weather was not kind during my trip here.” Dracule assures you and sits when you've cleared up a spot. He examines the books you've got scattered around, sharp brow ticking up in interest, “Botany?”

You nod, smile crossing your face as you nod, “Yep. I know enough, but there isn't anything wrong with wanting to know more. I had to teach myself a lot of this,” You gesture around your cluttered home and shrug. You weren't embarrassed about your life

“Admirable,” Mihawk rumbles. He grimaces when his boots squelch and raises a brow when you snicker at his scrunched face.

“I'm sure I've got some socks that will fit you. Let me go get some and then I'll make us some tea?” You offer, and Mihawk gives you what might call a pitiful look if the elegant mad made those. You snicker again and then walk off, “Make yourself at home.”

Dracule huffs at your retreating back and then reaches down to tug off his boots and then his socks. He feels exposed like this, but not unsafe or in any kind of danger. it's not a common feeling unless he was home, secluded away inside his room in his empty castle. He kicks back in his chair, warming his chilled toes by the fire.

You come back to your living room to see your guest lean back in his chair with his eyes closed. You take in his relaxed form, tiny smile playing on your lips as you watch him. He looks peaceful like this, the monstrous scowl gone from earlier. You jump when he speaks up.

“I can feel you staring, Darling,” he rumbles and cracks a yellow eye open to peer at the young woman he came all this way to see. He wonders if she understands how important such a notion was.

“Sorry! you just looked comfortable,” you tell him and then step into the kitchen to start the kettle. You slap your cheeks while hidden away from him, cursing yourself for being so rude to your guest.

Dracule rolls his eyes and stands to follow you to the kitchen. He comes to a stop behind you, reaching out one hand to place it on your hip. He feels you tense, and then the room drops in temperature as your devil fruit comes to life in response to the sudden touch. He ignores the cold and takes a half step closer, and you shiver at the heat radiating from his front.

“Don't be scared, Darling. You're safe with me,” Mihawk says quietly and then reaches past you with his free arm to gather the two mugs that the two of you used last time. He set them on the counter and then stepped back like he hadn't just rocked your entire foundation.

You swallow and turn around quickly, heart in your throat as you stare up at Darcule. He watches you, eyes intent, waiting for your next words.

“Which tea do you want?” You croak, and the tension in the air shatters when Mihawk snorts a laugh and runs a hand through his hair, fixing the black strands back in place.

“I'll take the peppermint, dear,” Dracule decides and watches the way you nod and quickly turns back to the counter. He leans in the doorframe, and by the time the kettle begins to whistle, the chill of the room has faded, and you face him with a relaxed grin on your face.

“One for you, one for me,” You intone and the two of you settle back by the fireplace in the living room. He takes his seat and you surprise him by settling on the floor by the open fire. You hand him his tea, and Mihawk sips from the chipped mug.

“Cold?” Dracule questions, and you nod, lips twisting in a weary smile. He finds that he does not like the distant look in your eye, as if recalling bad memories.

“Mhm, yeah. I ate the Yuki Yuki fruit when I was really young. You've seen it already. I'm always cold, so being warm is nice,” you admit casually, but Mihawk can still hear the strain on your voice. He frowns, curious for more, but unwilling to press for more if you did not want to speak on it.

“It is a formidable power,” Dracule murmurs and stands to set another log into the fire. His concern and curiosity for you grows, and he does not fight it. So, he settles back in his chair and parts his legs, “Come here, Darling.”

“What?” You demand, eyes wide and mouth growing dry. You can't have heard how correctly.

Hawkeye sighs, yellow eyes narrowing in on your befuddled form. The warlord knows that you aren't this dense. You're a smart girl, “Don't make me repeat myself, Darling,” he quips and pats his lap, “Come here. I'll warm you up.”

You find yourself standing on wobbly legs. In three short steps you stand between his legs, and Dracule finishes the job by grasping your hips and leading you firmly to sit in his lap. He sits you sideways, legs hanging over the side of his and pressing you into his chest. It's intimate, daring, and Mihawk has to look up to hide his smile when he feels you begin to relax against him.

You grin to yourself, warm and comfortable tucked up against your friend's? chest. You don't really know what's going on, but you like it. You like the squirmy feeling that blooms in your chest when this man who invited himself into your life looks at you.

“See?” Dracule speaks up, and you can feel the way his chest flexes below you when he curls one of his arms around you, “I told you I ran hot, Darling.”

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff

[deadlynavigation]

A Night At The Inn

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Light stalking, mention of gangs, only one bed

Author's Note: what even is season 2

Do not copy, plagiarize, or translate any of my works or their assets.

It’s a quiet night in Ketterdam.

Well- as quiet as it can be.

The occasional gunshot goes off, shocking the night air with the sharp noise. Drunk exclamations bounce off the cobblestones. And on the edge of it all, waves lap at their shores, washing away any trace of the day with murky saltwater.

This air, this atmosphere, is unbroken. It’s free to control the Barrel, free to control all of Ketterdam.

But like most things, its control is corrupted.

A pair of criminals stroll through the city, inviting an aura of tension that smothers the calm. The man seems anxious, his face set in a deep grimace. His steps seem uneven; perhaps a worry-induced tilt. The woman follows him closely behind, blending into the night as she drifts down the streets. However, she too is weighed down by an anxious air, her steps losing some of their stealth as she slowly gets swallowed by panic.

Meanwhile, a group of burly men take up the street behind the two. They’re dangerous-looking, the type to go after anyone who does them wrong. Gang members, too, if the matching tattoos on their necks say anything.

As they stalk closer to the pair, the woman turns to the limping man. He says nothing, only glancing swiftly back at her and picking up the pace. This does little to soothe her nerves. She glares at him, murmuring a worried statement while trying to gauge just how long they have before the gang reaches them.

He glares back, and after a minute of this staring contest, he nods sharply at an inn just down the street.

“Thank you,” she whispers. The man doesn’t say anything, opting to simply duck into the inn. She sighs, following him in.

They walk quickly towards the clerk situated in front of a cluttered desk. “One room.” Kaz Brekker stands in front of the desk, demanding and intimidating. His voice, though soft, instantly sends the clerk into a fearful state.

“O-of course, sir,” He responds, shuffling through the mess of documents for an available room number. After a moment of awkward sorting, he looks back up at the pair, holding a semi-rusted key out to them with shaky hands.

“Room 107 for the night. U-um, and the walls are thin, a-and you have neighbors-”

Kaz cuts the clerk off before he can finish insinuating anything that may make the woman next to him uncomfortable.

“Keep quiet about this, or next week you’ll wake to your family’s corpses surrounding you, their blood coating your bed. And your daughter- Anya, was it? Will be the first to go.”

The clerk’s face pales significantly. Kaz snatches the key from him, walking towards the stairs. The woman, Y/n L/n, once again follows Kaz, ascending the stairs with a deadly grace.

“They’ll still be after us in the morning, Kaz. This doesn’t change that.” She whispers.

“But it keeps them away from the Slat.” Kaz says, focusing on getting up the stairs without putting his leg in too much pain. Finally, he reaches the last step, turning onto the floor with a slight wince. She, of course, picks up on this.

“Your leg.” Y/n points out.

“It’s fine.” He asserts, effectively ending the conversation. She narrows her eyes before letting it go, stopping once she reaches Room 107.

Kaz fits the key into the door, unlocking it before entering the room. Y/n strides in as well, closing and locking the door behind her. The room is silent after that, the only sounds made by Kaz getting ready for bed. He removes his gloves, then strips out of his coat and shirt, stepping up to the large bowl of water to wash off what his cruelty can’t.

Y/n steals a glance at Kaz’s bare torso, watching his every move for a minute before shaking off her light blush and moving to the empty dresser. She drops her extra layers on it before moving to where Kaz still stands, unbuttoning her shirt as she walks.

It doesn’t escape her notice that Kaz’s eyes dart to her exposed skin before he remembers himself.

She washes Ketterdam’s filth off of her quickly, staying a comfortable distance away from Kaz. Once they’re both finished, they retreat back to the bed, ready to collapse after the long day. Before that can happen, though, Y/n places a small knife on the chipped bedside table. Kaz follows suit, laying his cane against the bed frame.

“Pick your side.” Kaz states. Y/n looks over at him, confusion knitting her brows. She would have never thought Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, would care for her bedroom preferences.

“I don’t have a preferred side of the bed.” She lies.

Kaz pins her with a disbelieving glance, then moves his dark eyes back towards the bed expectantly. He wants an answer - that much is clear.

“...I’ll take the left.”

Minutes later, the two are in bed, shuffling around until each finds a comfortable position. The lights are out now, the streets outside the inn are quiet, and the blankets are at just the right angle where it isn’t too cold or too hot or too bunched to be of any use. It’s not long before Y/n and Kaz are facing each other, both half-asleep.

“Y/n,” Kaz whispers into the night. He squeezes his eyes shut right after, bracing himself for what he’s about to do.

It takes a minute for her to respond, breaking out of the sleepy haze. “Yeah, Kaz?”

“...” Kaz stops, breathing in deeply. He decides against words, opting instead to reach his hand out to her side of the bed.

Y/n watches his every movement. “Kaz, it’s been a long day. Are you sur-”

“I know.” He breathes in once more. “I want this.”

“Ok,” And all sounds fade away, leaving only the silence of the night to reign.

Slowly, slowly, Kaz’s hand extends to hers. She leaves her own open and still, waiting to greet him.

He slides his hand into her palm, and the world stops. Then he wraps his fingers around her hand, squeezing ever so slightly before relaxing into a loose grip.

“Good night, Kaz.” Y/n murmurs.

“Night,” Kaz breathes.

Their hands stay in each other’s hold until morning.

(Navigation)

[theenchantresx]

Shadows of the Crown

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC Reader

Trigger Warnings: Violence and war (discussions of bloodshed, massacres), Emotional manipulation, Psychological trauma and guilt, Grief and loss (discussion of family betrayal, loss of loved ones), Mentions of past abuse and cruelty, Toxic relationships

Word Count: 3,500 words

All images are taken from Pinterest: credits to the original owners

The halls of the Red Keep were darker than usual, dimmed not just by the oncoming twilight but by the heavy weight of tension that seemed to seep into every corner. War loomed over the Seven Kingdoms like an ill-fated storm, and its cold winds had finally reached King's Landing. As Prince Regent, Aemond Targaryen was supposed to be the pillar of strength, but even steel cracks under enough pressure.

The fire of his kin was burning him alive.

You had been one of the few who could still approach him without fear of being dismissed. Though "approach" was a loose term—he never truly allowed anyone close, not since he had turned his back on his family. His eye, the one left unscathed, was hard as dragonstone whenever you stood before him. And the one that was lost, now replaced by the sapphire, seemed even colder.

Tonight was no different.

You found Aemond in the council chamber, the stench of conspiracies still lingered in the air. Maps, letters, and spilled wine cluttered the table before him, untouched since the maesters had delivered the latest reports. He stood by the window, tall and rigid, the flames of the fireplace casting flickering shadows against his sharp features.

"You’ve come again," Aemond said without turning around. His voice was like poisoned honey, slow, sharp, and dangerous. "I do wonder, have you come to scold me like the rest of them?"

You stepped forward cautiously, sensing the sharp edge of his temper beneath the calm. "I didn't come to scold. I came because you're alone, Aemond. And you know it."

He turned then, slowly, his single violet eye locking onto you. He was regal, tall, a figure that inspired both awe and fear, but the cruelty in his gaze had grown over time—thicker, more consuming, as if the loss of his family’s loyalty had stripped away the last of his humanity.

"Alone?" He chuckled darkly, stepping toward you with a deliberate slowness that made your heart pound. "It is a crown that sits heavy, not companionship I seek. I need no one."

"You've turned everyone against you," you said, keeping your voice steady despite his approach. "Your family, the council, even those who once supported you. What will your rule be, Aemond, if there's no one left to support you?"

He stopped just inches from you, looming over you like the shadow of Vhagar herself. His lips curled in a bitter, mocking smile. "You think I seek fairness? To be a king like my brother? Weak, foolish Aegon… he was an idiot, and where did that get him, hmm? I will not make the same mistake."

The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable, but you didn’t back down. "And what will your cruelty gain you? Fear? Power? They’re fragile things, Aemond. They slip through your fingers the moment you think you have control. There’s no peace in ruling with only fire and blood."

His smile faltered, just for a moment, but enough for you to see the weariness beneath the façade. Aemond turned away sharply, stalking back to the window with a frustrated exhale. "Peace?" he spat the word as if it were poison. "There is no peace, not for men like me. Only war and treachery. The time for peace ended when my family betrayed me. When they left me to burn in the fires of their ambitions."

"You’ve betrayed them too," you said quietly, knowing it was a risk to push him further. "Your mother, your sister, your brother… You abandoned your house loyalty for what? To avenge wrongs you suffered as a child? To prove you matter because having the biggest and oldest dragon isn't enough? And where did all this lead you?"

Aemond’s hands gripped the windowsill so tightly you could see his knuckles whiten. His back was to you, but you could feel the violent tension rolling off him. "They never saw me," he whispered, low and venomous. "Not truly. I was always the second son, the lesser, the shadow of Aegon. And now they would dare question my rule?"

"They did see you, Aemond. Perhaps not in the way you wanted, but they cared about you in their own twisted way. You still have time to make this right. You don’t have to—"

"Enough!" He whirled on you, his patience snapping. The rage in his eye was feral, unhinged, as if your words had struck a nerve too deep to bear. He advanced on you again, his tone icy. "You think I will grovel before them, beg for their forgiveness? I am Aemond Targaryen, the rider of Vhagar, the right ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. I will not be questioned by anyone. Not by my family, not by you."

His hand shot out and gripped your arm, firm but not painful, though the threat lingered in the air between you. His touch was cold, as though all the warmth had been leeched from him by the cruelty he had embraced.

"I am not here to question you," you said, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I’m here because I know you. Beneath all this, I know there’s a part of you that doesn't want to rule like this. You’re stronger than the hatred you’re clinging to, Aemond."

His eye searched yours for a long, agonizing moment, as if trying to find some weakness, some opening to crush. And yet, he hesitated. His grip on your arm tightened, but his face betrayed something you hadn’t seen in him for a long time—doubt.

For a heartbeat, you thought he might let go, that the cruelty might crack, but then he released you abruptly and turned his back once more. The coldness returned, the wall between you rising higher than before.

"You think you understand me," he said, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. "But you’re wrong. I will not bend. And you’d be wise to remember your place."

You stood in silence, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a cloak of frost. There was still a glimmer of hope, buried deep beneath his anger and pride, but it was slipping away, just as he was.

"If you continue down this path, Aemond," you said softly, taking a step back, "you’ll end up with nothing but ashes in your hands."

He didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The silence between you spoke volumes, and as you turned to leave, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had just witnessed the last flicker of light before the darkness consumed him entirely.

Perhaps one day he would see reason. Or perhaps, like his dragon, he would only ever know how to burn.

And if that day came, you feared even you might not be able to save him.

The door creaked behind you, the weight of your words still heavy in the air, but Aemond's silence held you rooted to the spot for a moment longer. You had seen the fleeting doubt in him, but that spark was suffocated as quickly as it had surfaced. His back remained turned, his gaze locked on the darkening horizon beyond the Red Keep’s windows.

You lingered by the threshold, hesitating. Leaving him like this—angry, alone—felt like sealing his fate. The civil war had already claimed too much; if Aemond fell further into his madness, there might be nothing left to salvage.

“I dreamt of Harrenhal,” you said softly, not quite looking at him. “Before the war… before all of this.”

Aemond stiffened, but he didn’t turn around. The mere mention of Harrenhal twisted something in him, something raw. You had struck another nerve, deeper than the last.

“I’ve seen the ruins in those dreams. I’ve seen you there, standing in the ashes.”

Still, no response. His silence was damning.

You took a breath and pressed on, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "That place… Harrenhal… it broke something in you, didn’t it?"

At that, Aemond finally turned, his single eye narrowing dangerously. “Broke me? Do not presume to know what I endured there.” His voice was a low growl, filled with a venomous bite. “Harrenhal did not break me. It forged me.”

There was a cold pride in his tone, but beneath it, you heard something else—something darker. You had heard the rumors, the whispers of what had happened at Harrenhal when Aemond had claimed the cursed castle. There had been blood, fire, and a cruelty even you had not imagined he was capable of.

“I know what you did there,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “The executions, the massacre. The blood on your hands… and for what, Aemond? What did it gain you?"

He stepped closer, the firelight catching the gleam of his sapphire eye. “It gained me control. Fear. Power.”

“Power built on ash,” you countered, your voice steady despite the cold dread pooling in your chest. "You didn’t need to kill all those people, Aemond. They weren’t your enemies; they were just… there.”

“They were in my way,” he said, as if that justified everything.

You shook your head, fighting the urge to step back from him. "The blood of innocents isn’t a price worth paying for your throne. Harrenhal… it’s cursed, you know that. It’s been a ruin since the day it was built, and now you carry that curse with you."

Aemond’s lip curled in a sneer. "Cursed? Don’t speak to me of superstitions. I don’t fear ghosts, nor do I fear the weight of my decisions. I did what needed to be done. And if I have to do it again, I will."

“You’ve become as cursed as the place itself,” you said softly, your eyes meeting his. “And it’s driving you mad.”

For a moment, his sneer faltered, and you caught a glimpse of something else—an unease that flickered in his eye before it hardened again. He was quick to push it down, burying it beneath layers of bitterness and pride.

Aemond turned away from you, pacing the room like a caged dragon. “I am not mad,” he hissed, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. “I see clearly, clearer than I ever have before. I see the weakness in my family. I see the cowardice in their hearts.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest, frustration swelling with each word he spoke. “This isn’t about your family anymore, Aemond! This is about you. You’ve let your hatred consume you.”

“Hate is all I have left,” he said, his voice a quiet, dangerous whisper. “What else do you expect me to hold onto? Love? Forgiveness?”

His eyes bored into yours with a cold, mocking intensity, and you could see the bitterness in them—the pain he refused to admit, even to himself. He was a prince surrounded by shadows, a ruler with a kingdom of ash beneath his feet.

But there was something else—something that hadn’t been spoken of yet.

“Helaena…” you said, and Aemond’s jaw tightened visibly at the sound of her name. “She saw all of this before it happened, didn’t she? The blood, the war… the destruction of your family. She tried to warn you.”

The mere mention of Helaena seemed to crack something in him. He turned sharply, his voice trembling with a barely-contained fury. “Do not speak of my sister.”

“She loved you, Aemond. Despite all, she tried to save you with her prophecies, but you wouldn’t listen—”

“Her words were riddles,” he spat, advancing on you again. “Nonsense! How could she save me when she could barely save herself?”

You could hear the agony beneath his anger now, the guilt he tried so desperately to hide. Helaena’s death had wounded him more deeply than any battlefield loss, and you knew he carried the weight of it like a chain around his neck.

“Helaena wasn’t mad, Aemond. You know that. She saw things none of us could. She warned you—she saw this war, saw the death that would come if you continued down this path. And yet you ignored her, even when you knew she spoke the truth.”

Aemond’s face twisted with grief, but it was fleeting, quickly replaced by a mask of cold indifference. “It’s too late now. Helaena is gone. And her words…” He trailed off, his voice low and bitter. “They mean nothing anymore: I faced death and I'm still here.”

“They mean everything, Aemond.” You stepped closer, your voice urgent. “You’ve become the one that destroys everything it touches.”

He recoiled at that, as if your words had struck him harder than any blade. For a moment, you saw the raw, wounded soul beneath the cruel mask he wore, the boy who had once been overshadowed by his brother, by his family. But that boy was long gone, buried beneath layers of hatred and vengeance.

“I am a Targaryen, a rider of dragons, a ruler by fire and blood. I will not be cowed by whispers and riddles.”

You could feel the distance between you growing once more, the coldness settling in the room like a thick fog. Aemond had buried his humanity beneath the weight of his ambition, and no matter how hard you tried to reach him, the walls he had built around himself were too high to scale.

“If you continue like this,” you said softly, your voice filled with a deep sorrow, “you’ll end up destroying everything, just like Harrenhal. There’ll be nothing left but ruins.”

Aemond stood in silence, staring at the darkened horizon beyond the window, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You could see the war raging within him—the battle between the man he had once been and the monster he was becoming.

But in the end, the shadows won.

“Leave me,” he said coldly, his voice distant. “There’s nothing more to discuss.”

Your heart ached as you looked at him, knowing that you had lost him to the darkness. There was no reasoning with him now, no way to pull him back from the edge.

With a heavy heart, you turned and left the room, the weight of your failure pressing down on you. You had tried to save him, but Aemond had already chosen his path.

And it was a path that led only to destruction.

You paused again at the door, Aemond’s cold command echoing in your mind. Your hand hovered over the handle, but you couldn’t leave. Not like this. The ache in your chest tightened, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled from your lips, raw and trembling.

"Am I nothing to you?"

Your voice cut through the heavy silence, and for a moment, it seemed to still the air in the room. Aemond’s back remained to you, his figure unmoving by the window, but the tension in his posture deepened, like a bowstring pulled too tight.

He didn’t respond immediately, and you took a tentative step forward, your heart hammering in your chest. "After everything… after all these years… do I mean nothing to you? Or am I just another piece to be cast aside like the others?"

Aemond’s head tilted slightly, but he still refused to look at you. You could see his fingers tightening around the windowsill, white-knuckled with restrained anger. His silence felt heavier than any response he could have given.

"I stood by you when no one else would. I tried to understand you when even your family turned away. And yet, here I am, begging for the smallest scrap of the man I thought I knew." Your voice trembled, but you pressed on. "Am I nothing, Aemond? Is that what I am to you?"

At last, Aemond turned to face you, and the coldness in his eye sent a shiver through your spine. The firelight flickered across his sharp features, casting deep shadows that only made him look more like the ruthless dragonlord he had become. But in that moment, there was something else, buried beneath the layers of cruelty—a flicker of guilt, of something he couldn’t admit.

“You presume too much,” he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. “You think your presence here makes you special? That your words can change what I have become?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. "I thought I was more than just another voice in the crowd, Aemond. I thought I mattered to you. But maybe I was wrong."

His eye flashed with something you couldn’t quite place—rage, perhaps, or regret. It was fleeting, but enough to make your chest tighten painfully.

"You do not understand," Aemond said through gritted teeth, his tone laced with frustration. "You cannot understand. There is no room for sentiment, not in this war, not in my world. Feelings, loyalty, love—they are weaknesses, chains that bind me to the past. I cannot afford them."

You felt the sting of his words, but you refused to back down. "You think you’re strong by pushing everyone away, by cutting yourself off from the people who care about you? That’s not strength, Aemond. That’s fear."

His expression darkened, and he took a step toward you, his presence looming like a shadow. "Fear?" he scoffed. "Do you think I fear anything? I’ve faced dragons, war, betrayal, and you think this frightens me?"

"I think you’re afraid of feeling anything at all," you whispered, holding his gaze despite the storm you saw brewing in his eye. "You’re terrified that if you let yourself care, if you let yourself be human for one moment, everything you’ve built will come crashing down."

Aemond’s face twisted with a mix of anger and something far more vulnerable. "You know nothing of what I’ve built, what I’ve sacrificed. My family, my blood, all of it—gone. I have no place for softness, no place for—"

"For me?" you interrupted, your voice breaking. "Is that it? You have no place for me in your life anymore, either?"

For a long, excruciating moment, Aemond didn’t respond. His eye locked onto yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw something—some hint of the man you used to know, the man who had once allowed you close. But whatever softness had flickered in him was quickly smothered by the cold, unyielding mask of the prince regent.

He stepped back, his expression hardening once more. “You are asking questions you don’t want answers to.”

The cold dismissal in his tone was like a blade to your chest, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall, not in front of him.

"So I’m nothing," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. The realization hit you like a cold wave, and you turned away, your hand gripping the door handle. "After all this time… I’m nothing."

You moved to leave, but before you could open the door, Aemond’s voice cut through the room, softer now, almost pained.

“You were never nothing to me.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, the room seemed to freeze. You stopped, heart pounding in your chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. His voice, so controlled, so cold, had cracked, just for a moment. But it wasn’t enough—not after everything.

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes as the weight of his words settled over you. “You have a strange way of showing it.”

And with that, you opened the door and stepped out, leaving Aemond Targaryen standing in the shadow of the crown he had so ruthlessly claimed, alone with the weight of the choices he could never take back.