#Where do I frickin begin

[shikai-the-storyteller]

[coconut530]

Here’s two doodles (late night edition)

[dungeonpuppykai]

|| Fiddle ||

Description: Curtis is a soldier from lands far away. Curtis loves to tease you. Curtis is a jerk. Curtis is your husband. You do your best to deny Curtis' existence. Curtis doesn't mind. Because Curtis knows you are a fiddle to his touch, whether you like to admit it or not.  

Pairing: Soft-Dark Army Chief!Curtis Everett | Spoiled Crown Princess!You. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Curtis Everett (sadly). This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark Curtis, he's kinda crusty dusty, forced/arranged marriage, power imbalance, fluffy smut with dark undertones that gets rough, groping, making out, dumbification, degradation, self degradation, ddlg undertones, he's intimidating, pet names, infantilization, play fighting, m!dom, f!sub, unprotected p-in-v intercourse, cock riding, overstimulation, doggy style fucking, spanking, choking, hair pulling, he's a man. 

Note: Was gonna post a Sy thing tonight but it's not done yet and I am extremely tired so here's a little Curtis piece I did the other day.

.

Curtis' eyes are closed as he leans his head against the edge of the tub, his huge body relaxed in the warm water while a content smile tugs at his lips. There is nowhere in this whole wide world that he would rather be than in this moment right here; relaxed after a long day of hard work and in the proximity of his dear lady. The contemptuous voice of said lady, although hostile, is music to his ears as it rings in the distance between them while she begrudgingly rubs away at one of the many dirt spots on his body with the use of a soft sponge. 

"Ugh, what do I, The Crown Princess, get?!" You are muttering to yourself like a typical naggy wife. "A fuckin–" your words lock in your throat automatically when your husband's eyebrows furrow in disapproval. "A frickin' no name foreign soldier!" You hate how he doesn't even have to open his eyes to get you to correct yourself. "While all my stupid friends– stay still!" You reprimand when one of his arms that you had extended in your direction to scrub the grime off of begins to get antsy in your lap for the sole purpose of annoying you.

Curtis chuckles and that irks you even more, as if your tiara placed on the opposite side of the tub on a little stool for whatever reason glinting at you isn't enough. 

Your husband is a jerk and he's probably rubbing your nose in the fact that despite being all-powerful after your father The King, you still have to bathe his stupid dirty body like a common wife. 

Ugh, you hate him.

"I am sorry, my love."

But you can't protest in the way that you want. 

Because your stupid father had issued a decree upon your arranged union to him. That you would only be able to keep your crown if you stayed true to your husband and kept him happy. Otherwise, the Army Chief -a stupid title held by your idiot of a husband- could usurp your future throne and do with the kingdom -and you- as he pleased. 

You hated it. 

But you loved your position more. 

However, your rascal of a husband made it even harder for you to stand him and keep up with the bargain when he asked of you cringy domestic services that made you want to punch him square in the jaw. 

But alas! 

How powerful is a damsel against her knight in shining armor? 

You continue when you have made sure that he won't try and reach for your breasts now. "... While all my stupid friends got to have dukes and nobles and aristocrats, I get a crusty dusty baldy from who knows where!" You hate how your boobs hang from the neck of your dress. 

Your depraved husband had them make a whole new wardrobe for you after your wedding. 

And the fittings and cuts on your home gowns made you want to kick him. 

He further irritates you when he lazily splashes some water on you in a playful fashion. You click your tongue at him and widen your eyes in warning even though he can't see you as you pinch his arm. "Stop it, baldy! Do you even know how long it takes to wash and style hair? Exactly!" You glanced at his buzzed head. "Stop splashing your stupid grimy water on–" you gasp, fully offended now as he remains unbothered with his eyes still comfortably shut. Water drips down your nose due to the hefty handful of the soapy water that he has just hurled right onto your face. 

"You–!" You toss the sponge into the tub angrily as you reach for his face with your claws. "You are DONE! I will end you today– AHH!" You screech when he manhandles you quicker than you can process it. The only thing you see is him opening his intelligent blue eyes before he gathers your offending hands in one of his much bigger, rougher ones and the arm that you had been cleaning wraps around your waist before you are pulled into the water. 

… You are in utter disbelief.

Your mouth falls open in shock as your eyes clench shut to suppress your rage. "How's this?" Your jaw ticks at his cocky tone. Warm water helps itself into your heavy gown and you're getting drenched by the second. You don't even struggle to try and get out because you are all too familiar with the unrelenting quality of the vice grip that he has placed on you. 

You stay quiet for a bit and just let yourself simmer in your rage while you try to think of all the reasons why you shouldn't lose your shit. 

But your husband is insufferable.

"Figured you could use some cleaning up too after a long, hard day of sulking around in luxury and jewels inside the castle" that seems to set you off in an autopilot and you begin to vehemently try and shake him off. But it's impossible to do so in the hold he has you in and that makes you even more passionate towards your resolve.

The bathwater goes splashing all around as you grunt and groan, wheezing a few seconds in by the struggle you have to put forth. Your eyebrows crease together indignantly and you kick your legs hard, pathetically weaseling against his chest with your hands locked above your head.

Curtis is no more than amused while you fume. He wordlessly holds you down with adoration in his pale blue eyes as a soft smile tugging at his bearded lips. He remains quiet and soundless until you open your mouth and then he's laughing at you. 

"Unhand me, fiend!" What? You read that in your literature lessons recently and thought it sounded cool. 

"Oh," your husband begins to shift forwards to press you against the edge of the opposite end of the tub, "but the big bad fiend fancies himself some little princess now" that's another thing you hate. 

He always tells you you're too small for big girl things and that's why you need to be taken care of. That that was also one of the reasons behind your father getting you, his only child, married to a man like him. 

That you needed a firm hand in your life that only he could provide.  

Absolutely absurd, right?! 

"I AM NOT LITT–" you suddenly freeze amid your struggle because your eyes have subconsciously flickered down to his pink chapped lips while his breath fans your mouth. You can't decide whether it's the way Curtis' chest firmly presses against yours or the way he has your arms suspended above your head in such a… big way that you inch your head upwards and mindlessly meet his lips, way too carried away by the memories of how good they feel to be rational.

As always.

The hungry way in which he kisses you back takes your breath away and both of you begin to claw and grope at each other everywhere you can like you are lovers who have met after being parted for years. The brawling couple is nowhere to be found, for a different kind of tussle has been initiated. 

Your access to him is less complicated and more pleasant because he's completely bare. But the way Curtis growls when he's kissing the length of your neck and the lovebites that he likes to leave on your tender skin indicates that he does not appreciate the barrier of your skirts between himself and you. 

"Up" he separates his lips from your jaw that he now nibbles at just enough to husk out his order. You quickly obey as you feel your arousal fill your already drenched undergarments, deciding that fighting could come later. You had the rest of your lives to do that, after all. Not that you liked to admit it when you weren't about to mount his cock. 

Curtis sits back and pulls you on his toned thighs to have no hassle access to you. You whine and grind yourself against his erection as he peels all your clothes off hurriedly, occasionally grunting under his breath when you get too rough because of your need. 

"Come here" he keeps your jewelry on but pulls and tears away everything else. Picking up your extravagant tiara from the stool, he places it on your head and you can't help but clench before rocking your hips harder against his. 

It's a silent assertion. 

An act of dominance. 

A paradox. 

You could wear the crown and have all the power in the Kingdom over every single person but your husband. 

Curtis was your regulator; your owner. 

The real master. 

You were the silly little puppet that he controlled with his cock.  

And while it never fails to offend you later, it always makes you even wetter when your bare body is pressed up against his. 

You whimper to yourself as realization dawns upon you; was this why he had the tiara placed here in his reach when you started? Did he know this was coming? Was this supposed to happen? Had your husband tricked you into becoming the wanton little thing that he always made out of you? 

You whine with a timid shake of your head as you place your hands on his broad shoulders to signal him to not move when he goes to place you under him. "W- Wanna ride…" You mumble like a baby and the tenderness of your tone has him roughly inhaling before he grabs your ass and squeezes it harshly, forcing your straddle to widen against him.

"Sure you can take it on your own, honey?" Even in your submissive state, you roll your eyes before puffing your flushed cheeks and that's how Curtis knows you are the one for him. 

"I think I know how to ride my husband's dick, thank you very much" he snorts.

"Oh, so now I am your husband, huh?" You groan and clamp one of your hands around his teasing grin as you reach into the water to position his tip against yourself. 

"I swear, you're so fuck– ow, Curty!" Your eyebrows rush to meet as you let out a high pitched throaty whine.

"Language" he warns dangerously as he glares up at where you're suddenly hugging his shoulders sensitively so his face is between your boobs. 

The combination of the apex of his dick twitching against you along with a punishing smack resounding against your wet ass had been too much for you to handle. 

You were just a fragile little baby, after all. 

"S- Sorry…" Your knees shake as you remain propped up on the top of his cock, too stuck around his monstrous girth to sink down and too needy to let go. "P- Please help, Curty" he has to raise one of his thick, dark eyebrows at that. 

"But I thought you were a big girl who knew how to ride her man's cock" shame nibbled at your blushing cheeks. 

"N- No… n- not big, Curty. P- Please… n- need you so bad" you uncomfortably shifted on the top of his cock. "P- Please help…" He hummed as he let one of his hands roughly fondle your ass cheeks, his beard feeling the soft cushions of your boobs. 

"Are you saying that you admit that you are my dumb little girl who can't do anything on her own and needs me for everything?" You nod so he moves you down but stops halfway to torture you just that bit more. "Say it" the slap he lands on your butt causes your cheeks to jiggle feverishly and you arch your back at the pain with a loud whine. 

"I- I…" You clench needily around him and feel yourself getting wetter at how great that one thick vein of his cock feels around your walls. "I admit t- that I am a stupid little girl and I can't do a- anything on my own–" you have to pause to recollect your breaking voice, the tension in your band of muscles that his rock hard cock stretches forming knots in the base of your stomach. "A- And that I need m- my hubby for everything" Curtis hums and he finally rests his back against the tub again as his hands aid your movements up and down his cock to get you to adjust to him. 

"Now thank me" you clench and feel your toes curl when he begins to pay attention to your erect boobs and his beard scratches the skin, chapped lips grazing your nubs in a way you can only describe as pleasurable. 

"Thank you!" It is breathless and erotic in tone as your hands curl around his shoulders. "Thank you for h- helping me, hubby" your hips start to work on their own now, the water that is beginning to turn cold splashing down on the floor as you slide yourself up and down his hard cock. 

"Wouldn't have been able to do it on your own, huh baby?" Curtis' teeth are sharp around one particular nipple that he had neglected the last time he was on you -which was a night before the last- and now he began his addictive mix of sucking and biting at the bud so you would be reminded of him every time anything brushed against it. 

"N- No, hubby…" The fact that your nails are digging into his hard pale skin -that doesn't get tanned no matter what, much to your confusion- but it doesn't seem to bother him as he rams up into you each time you land on his balls makes you reach for your pussy only for your hand to be smacked away. 

Uh oh.

It's a rule; your body belongs to Curtis and only he gets to touch it.

"And why is that?" Your vision gets dizzy as his tip begins to collide with your spongy bundle of sensitive nerves now, his girth having finally parted your walls enough. 

You feel yourself in a daze as you gasp down at him, one of your hands mindlessly stroking his sharp features. Curtis' body is the most stunning contrast of light and dark. His skin is white as snow -almost as though he has been carved out of frost itself- and his thick hair is nearly black. He hasn't yet disclosed to you his origins or the backstories of the many scars that litter his body. But the menace with which he wields a weapon -though he prefers not to be a soldier around you, unappreciative of you ever showing up on the field or anywhere near it- and the way your father trusts him with all of your lives sends the faintest chill of realization down your spine. 

Your husband is not as simple as the Kingdom Protector that he makes himself out to be. 

Because the ruthless way in which he shot down the person who tried to abduct you when you tried to flee your wedding makes you wonder if you even want to find out just what you open your legs to everytime you can. 

Or he wants. 

"Hm?" Curtis pulls you out of your fear inducing reverie. "Answer the question and I'll give it to you, baby" you feel your tiara slip to one side and go crooked on your wet hair when he gives you a particularly hard thrust. 

"Ugghhhheeee!" You gurgle as you throw your head back because of how he bites your nipple at the same time. You rake your mind to remember where you were, clenching hard around him when it does come back. "B- Because I am too d- dumb and my l- little pussy is too small to handle you all by myself, hubby" the profane words that would usually sting you tongue and appall you only further add to the pressure building between your hips.

You're so close.

Curtis growls and the way he begins to fuck up your pussy indicates that it's taking all of him not to change position and plunder you into the ground. 

But he never refuses the wishes of his Princess. 

His fingers finally creep to where you need him most. "That's fuckin' right" a loud moan escapes you when his thumb begins to swipe up and down your clit. "So remember that the next time you wanna argue with your man who works hard in the hot dirty field all day long so you can be a pretty little Princess in a protected Kingdom" your whole body is on fire despite the water that surrounds you. You're wet, dirty, desperate and on the very edge, the stimulation on your clit pulling at the knots in your stomach harder and harder. You're incoherent with your pleas and praises but Curtis isn't quite finished with you just yet. A firm tap thumps against the side of your head condescending as he readjusts your tiara. "Tell me you'll remember it" before he wraps his muscular arm around your waist to pull you closer again.

"I'll remember it, hubby!" You throw your head back as pleasure erupts up your womb and everywhere in your body. Your knees give out but you keep slamming yourself up and down his dick animalistically like a cock drunk nymph, placing your hands on the edges of the tub and using the grip to help move yourself. "Thank you so much!" Your ears are numb and hot, vision full of stars and neon shapes as you feel your breasts jiggle in a humiliating manner but you are too far gone to care.  

Your heart is still erratic and your hips haven't completely stopped moving when he decides to take back all the reigns of control. 

Being the simpleton that you are, you fail to realize that your husband didn't come. But that's okay. Curtis understands; little Princesses like you don't know anything but selfishness. 

It's a good thing he's a taker. 

"My turn" he breathily whispers in your ear when you have somewhat calmed down and now tiredly rest against his chest while lazily moving yourself on his cock. 

"... H- Huh?" 

A loud groan of protest escapes you when he suddenly rotates you on his cock like it's your axis, shifting onto his knees and moving you towards the opposite end of the tub. You open your eyes to see him placing your hands around the edge of the tub to hold on to, the realization of what he is about to do you causing your eyes to nearly fall out of their sockets as you sputter, too confused and fucked out to say anything substantial. 

Not that your husband would listen anyways. 

That is another rule; you are never to deprive him of anything, yourself being the top of the list of said things. 

Curtis adjusts your tiara again as he moves back to wrap his hands around your thighs to both handle you better and keep your legs that are trying to clamp together wide open for him. 

"Oh!" Your pussy clenches in defense when he begins to thrust into you.

And he isn't gentle about it either. 

"Tsk, comparing me, a husband who serves his wife with his blood and sweat to those sissy elites who have never seen a day of hard work in their lives and only know their fancy words" one of his hands pull back to come rapping down on your ass, causing you to jump with a loud whine, the action causing him to groan as well as it sends vibrations up his cock. "Well you know what, my dear?" He pulls you back by your hair to whisper in your ear. "If it comes to it, do you think those dukes and nobles and aristocrats of yours will be able to protect the honor of their ward like I did?" Fuck, another orgasm is about to force itself out of you due to the sensitive condition of your pussy. "Huh?!" Another slap has you yelling out a response as you get rammed like nothing more than a common whore.

"N- No, hubby! I am sorry, hubby!"

"You better fuckin' be" Curtis sounds fatally dangerous as he holds you to him by a new grip he has placed on the curve of your pussy from behind. "No real man ever wants the name of another on his wife's tongue" his balls clap against your ass in the most erotic way you've ever known. "Don't take my affections for granted" he begins to toy with your folds just to torture you that much more. "You're too spoiled and stupid to handle me when I get pissed, honey." 

He is breathless as he empties his load into you, cursing when the hot burst of thick liquid causes you to fall over again and you clench around him due to the sensitivity. "Look at this, baby" one of his rough hands clamp around your throat as he bends over you to fuck you harder, holding one of your thighs over his arm to allow himself deeper access. "You can't even breathe without my permission… how fucking cute" your lungs burn for air and your brain melts.

"Yes, hubby…" Is the only thing you can hear yourself muttering through the numbness as your body rocks back and forth. You can swear you knock out a couple times as your husband thoroughly fucks his orgasm out and into you. 

Then he pulls you in his arms and against his chest when he is done. 

"My hair…" His cock is hot inside your cavern as you cuddle into his chest, having been turned around again as the two of you snuggle now. 

Curtis has always told you that it's very pretty, just like all your other features. "What about it?" Your husband's own breathing is heavy as he reaches to push it out of your face. Your tiara is long gone and forgotten after it went missing during the fuck. 

"The soapy water ruined it…" You softly pout up at him. 

"I mean…" The warm and blissed out expression in his eyes is evidence that he doesn't agree nor care. Your beauty is something he always compliments with no hesitation and complete honesty. You are the prettiest sight my eyes have ever had the pleasure of beholding. It makes you roll your eyes everytime. "We can be the baldies, the two of us, hm?" You huff and glance at the ceiling tiredly. "The… baldy couple…?" He imitates the way you say it in your exact accent and you can't help but push weakly at his chest to express your dislike. "I mean," Curtis is grinning now. Uh oh, that can't be good, it never is. "Bet the tiara would look even cuter on your shiny cueball head–"

"YOU'RE SO OBSCENE, UGH!" He doesn't mind the childish fist that you land on his shoulder only to whine because his skin is too hard for your pampered little hand. 

Curtis snorts as he reaches for your hurting hand and kisses the top of it before slowly standing up with you safely tucked in his huge arms. "Only for you, honey" before he carefully removes you from his cock and hauls you over his shoulder, smacking your ass to make you squeak as he walks to the shower to get the now grimy bathwater off of the two of you. 

Your head maid shakes her head from outside your chambers as she motions for the rest of your helpers to excuse you for the day. It wouldn't be until morning that anyone would be able to get you two off of each other. 

"The Princess pretends like she doesn't know the Chief but he is the only one who has ever made her so… soft" one of the girls that basically grew up with you and was one of your good friends giggled shyly. 

"That's because she's a fiddle for the Chief, whether she wants to admit it or not" the other one rolls her eyes as they walk away from the group. 

"Perhaps that's what a comfortable marriage is" your friend muses aloud as the two girls turn the corner towards their quarters. "Being hopeless fiddles for each other in our own ways."

It was true, for it was not one sided by any means.

.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 11

Day Ten | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twelve

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Notes: This isn't technically Bruce and Shop Girl, but it can be read that way. That said, because it isn't technically them, it will not be linked on the masterlist for The Other Half.

Warnings: Blindfolding; hide-and-seek/prey-play adjacent; blowjob; cunnilingus; vaginal sex; unsafe sex; creampie

“You ready?” 

“You don’t need to ask,” Bruce argues.

You fold your arms across your chest, taking a good, long look at him. He’s just a few feet away—shirtless, wearing a pair of light grey sweatpants. The view you have of him is one that most of the women in Gotham would likely envy…Save for the fact that his eyes are covered with a bandana, wrapped and tied as tightly as he could stand. You take the opportunity to blatantly roll your eyes, turning toward the crate of bean bags. 

“I saw that," He warns.

Your jaw drops open in shock.

“Fuck off, there’s no way.”

Bruce laughs, and you huff, lobbing a bean bag at his head. He swats it away without hesitance, shifting and waiting for the next one. 

“Little shit,” You mutter, throwing the next one. He catches it, lobbing it back. You yelp, ducking out of the way. 

“Hey! That is not the point of the exercise.” 

“What is the point, again?” 

“You’re slowing down, old man.” 

You grin as Bruce’s jaw tightens. Christ, that’s a good look. You so rarely see Bruce stern like this. You almost never see him as Batman—at least, not up close. When you see him like this, it’s…Intriguing. You swipe your tongue across your lips, stepping as silently as you can to a different side of him. You watch him closely, wary of him showing any signs of catching on. You throw one at him underhand, and he catches it, then tosses it away again. Dangit. 

“How are you,” You toss one, “So,” Another, “Frickin’,” A third, “Good at this?”

You aim the final one directly at his head. He doesn’t miss a single one, either dodging or swatting them away as he inches closer and closer to you. Your stomach swoops with panic. You stop heeding your attempts to be quiet, hurriedly pelting Bruce with the bean bags as you scramble to get away. When you run out of them, you turn your back to him, scrambling to reach one of the discarded bags. You don’t get far. Your fingers just graze the fabric, scrabbling for it as Bruce’s arm hooks around your middle. You shriek as your back meets his hard chest, your heart pounding as he presses tightly against you. 

“Call me an old man again,” He murmurs low in your ear.  

“Why?” You fight to keep your tone steady. “Did it turn you on that much? Should’ve told me sooner.” 

He huffs softly, turning his head just a touch, his lips brushing against your ear. 

“Tell you what,” He murmurs, thumb sweeping along your side. “You run, and you hide, and we’ll see just how fast I find you.” “With the blindfold on?” 

“Of course.” 

You bite your lip, considering for a moment. 

“What happens if you can’t find me?”

“We can do whatever you want.” 

“...With the blindfold?” 

“Like I said,” He draws back with a pat to your hip. “Whatever you want.” 

“And what if you do find me?” 

“We do whatever I want.” 

-- 

You have to be judicious about your hiding place. The Manor is so vast, and there are so many rooms that you’ve never gotten around to exploring. Now isn’t the time to poke around. You need your hiding place to be strategic. You need a spot that you know well already—one with good cover and where you can fidget without making much sound. You’re awful at sitting still in general, and worse still when you’re stressed. 

You duck into the kitchen, looking around. Bruce gave you a two-minute head start, and you trust him to keep to it, and not to remove the blindfold. Still—with how easily he’d managed to defend against the bean bags, you’re not certain you’ll be able to hold out long. You look around hurriedly, beginning to panic. Shit, shit shit shit. Where can you hide? In a cabinet? In the pantry?

You turn, spotting the long table in the middle of the room. You hurry over to it, gently lifting the chair at the head of the table back. You hurriedly crawl under the table, sliding the chair back in as quietly as possible. You lay down on your belly and draw in deep, even breaths, trying to calm your pounding heart. It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fine. Bruce probably isn’t going to bother to look for you down here.

-- 

The padding of his feet makes your heart leap into your throat. Your hands curl into fists, and you swallow thickly. Keep calm. Keep calm. Deep, even, quiet breaths. You don’t dare move a muscle. You glance up, spotting Bruce’s feet as he walks deeper into the room. He’s moving slowly, with care. You can hear him sweeping his hand across the cabinets, knocking his hand across the countertops. You glance over, tracking his feet as he walks slowly around the table. Your stomach swoops as you hear him lifting away the chair at the other end of the table. You hesitantly lift your head, turning it slowly to look at Bruce. 

He crouches beside the table. If he didn’t have his blindfold on, you’d be almost certain that he was peering directly at you. It’s a long, harrowing, silent moment before he straightens up. You puff out a quiet, relieved breath. He’s missed you, thank god—

You scream as his hands close around your ankle, yanking you out from under the table. You pant, panicked as you roll onto your stomach, batting at his chest as nervous giggles burst from your lips. He grins, grasping your wrists and pinning them above your head. His smile is bright, giving you a good view of his dimples. You giggle again, shifting beneath him. 

“That was stupidly fast.”

“I didn’t cheat,” Bruce insists. 

“I know you didn’t.” 

-- 

Your eyelashes brush against the scratchy fabric of the bandana as you feel the cool marble of the floor against your bare body. You can’t see him, but you can feel Bruce all over you. You can feel his lips brushing against your neck, his chest pressed hotly against yours as his hips rolls against yours. He’s hard and hot against you, his thigh is tucked between your legs for you to grind up against. 

You whimper softly, pressing up against him as much as you can. His hands are grasping your wrists still, keeping you prone no matter how much you struggle against him. You raise your legs, hooking them around his, and fighting back a warming swell of embarrassment as he chuckles. 

“I didn’t think you’d get this turned on from a little game of hide and seek,” He teases. 

“It wasn’t that. At least—it wasn’t just that.” 

“Oh no?” He tips his chin up, nipping your earlobe. “You wanna tell me just what it was?” 

“Bruce,” You whine softly, grinding down against his hard, muscled thigh. “Are you gonna be a dick and drag this out, or are you going to give me what I want?” 

Bruce hums thoughtfully, and you feel his body lift away from yours. You can hear him shifting, feeling the grip on your wrists turn. 

“I thought that the deal was that if I won, I could have whatever I wanted," He reminds you.

“What do you want?” 

You wait for a few, harrowing, silent moments before you feel the brush of his cockhead against your lips. You part them, swiping your tongue across the head. You hear Bruce groan softly, feel him pressing more deeply into your mouth. You bob your head, taking as much of him in as you can with your neck craned in such an awkward position. Bruce lowers his hand to trace the swell of his cockhead as it presses against the inside of your cheek. His fingers trail down your neck, along your clavicle before delicately swirling around your pebbling nipples. You strain up into the touch, whining in frustration as he never quite makes the contact that you’re aching for. 

You pout as you feel Bruce draw back. Before you can complain, he slaps his slickened head against your lips again, groaning softly as you stick your tongue out for him. He curses under his breath, giving his hips one more harsh shove before he pulls away again completely. You frown as his grip on your wrists slackens, then disappears completely. Your stomach flips with anticipation and confusion as you feel him grip your thighs, spreading them wide.

The first hot swipe of Bruce’s tongue against your needy pussy makes you moan, your hands blindly scrabbling for purchase. You finally hook them in Bruce’s hair, using the grasp to steady him as you drive your hips down against his lips. You can feel the vibration of Bruce’s soft chuckle, chased by the tug of him drawing your clit between his lips. You pant softly as you drive into the sensation. You raise a hand from his hair, teasing your breasts and swiping over your tender nipples as Bruce laps hungrily at your folds. 

You press your heels down against the cool tile, thrusting your hips up against him. If he keeps it up, just like this, you could just—

You whimper, loosening your grip on Bruce's hair as he draws away. Before you can lower your hand between your legs to finish yourself off, Bruce catches hold of your wrist, using it to tug you up off of the floor. You let him maneuver you, straddling his lap. You can feel his hard cock nestle against your pussy, sending a wave of anticipation through you. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, following his guiding touch as you sink down onto his cock. 

Your eyelids flutter beneath the bandana, your breath catching in your throat as you adjust to the feeling of him. You wind a hand into his hair again, brushing your lips along Bruce’s cheek, then lips as you’re able to find them. Bruce curls his arms around your waist, holding you still as he begins to thrust into you. Your kisses turn to open-mouthed brushes and exchanges of breath as he sets a punishing pace. You can’t help the moans and whines that fall from your lips, uncaring of how loud you’re being. 

Bruce seems to care, though. 

Your world floods with light as he tugs the bandana down from the back of your head, using the hold on it to tuck it between your lips. You bite down on it, whimpering brokenly as he keeps a tight hold on the fabric. You take in Bruce’s face—his darkened eyes, the flush that’s risen up in his cheeks, his pinked, kiss-plumped lips. You watch him dip his head to your neck, feel the way his loving kisses roughen, turning to nips and bites and sucks. His pace becomes more frantic, his thrusts harsher, almost aimless. 

You gasp sharply as he tips the two of you, cradling your head as he lowers you back down onto the floor. He plants his knees and grasps your shoulder, driving into you at a relentless pace. You slip a hand between your bodies, swiping over your tender clit until you’re tightening around him, your muffled shout dampened by the gag. Bruce’s hips pound against yours until they stutter and slow. You sag against the floor as you feel him spill into you. He bows over you, resting his forehead against your shoulder, then slowly drawing away, settling on  the floor beside you. 

You reach up, gently prying the gag from between your lips, swallowing dryly as you peer up at the ceiling, your heart still pounding in your chest. You feel Bruce turning to look at you, hear his contented sigh before he asks, 

“What was that about me slowing down?” 

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021

[highladyjane]

Love vs. Fate

ACOTAR foreshadowed the whole love triangle with this

Which I believe is the background for this part of this interview - where sure, Sarah may try to play things off:

But I find that interesting, because TOG's ending clearly said this (Kingdom of Ash, Ch.98)

And CC's ending said this (House of Flame and Shadow, Ch. 98)

So isn't it funny that all of SJM's books are all about defying Gods, Odds, and Fate through acts of True Love, aaaand people still think that Elain, Azriel, AND Lucien are just going to do what everyone and that corrupted Cauldron expects and tells them to do in the end because "Sarah's a fated mates author", and because that's what they've been doing their whole lives prior to encountering each other?

Can't people connect the dots and see the real pattern of her books? Because it's pretty frickin' obvious to me.

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?" is just the beginning of fighting for that HEA.

And I am sorry, not sorry, because as of ACOFAS, ACOSF, and the bonus chapters, there's not a single hint of Elain wanting to bridge the gap with her Cauldron-given mate... But rather a lot of her initiating the bridging of a gap between her and a certain Shadowsinger/Spymaster who confirms in his very own POV that he has feelings for her, but has been trying to stay away because he struggles with feelings of unworthiness - especially because a damned Cauldron gave her to another on top of that.

So if Elain's choosing anyone, it won't be because of any mating bond. No, Elain...

I may be primarily pro Elriel but I'm also pro-Lucien, so I want him to be happy too. I just think he deserves someone who readily wants and chooses him back, mating bond or not... So I am pretty sure he's asking the very same questions Az is asking. Sure, Elucien can still happen -there's just going to have to be a great deal of retconning, including ignoring all the build-up and crumbs Sarah has scattered throughout her books to make it feel unforced. But just like with Rhys' or Tamlin's etc. parents, not everyone accepting their mating bond is going to guarantee a HEA. And once Lucien finds out about his true parentage and the truth about the Cauldron, now that he's an exile with no High Lord to submit to... I'm pretty sure he's going to start finally fighting about what he truly thinks is right and his own freedom to choose and to love - something he didn't get to do for Jesminda. And no, it wouldn't be through a Blood Duel for a mate that was "thrown at him".

So there's no need for "I just want ______ to be happy" or "_____ doesn't deserve ______." Because none of these 3 are going to end up without a HEA in an SJM book where a character can barely stay dead for longer than 3 minutes.

[blaiddfailcam]

Thoughts on the Shadow of the Erdtree's first trailer

You know I have to, lol.

I'm going to avoid anything that's likely well-trodden territory, so a lot of this will pertain to past theories of mine, or just general ramblings. It's not going to be all that organized, but here goes.

The "Ring of Miquella"

A loooong long time ago, I settled on a theory that the Great Rune of the Unborn was actually Miquella's rightful Great Rune, but given to Rennala in the form of the Amber Egg by Radagon before he was even born. The Great Rune itself matches the shape of his twin sister, Malenia's, albeit smaller and of pure gold, akin to Miquella's traits as an eternally youthful demigod of Unalloyed Gold. Miquella's role in the base game as a comatose Empyrean who failed to be reborn further relates to the Great Rune of the Unborn, as it is required to perfect the process, otherwise the reborn loses their memory as if to a deepening slumber.

I take this as a damning vindication, lol.

Possible insight into the Cuckoo

Some have pointed out this character's evident relation to Raya Lucaria. Already, many have jumped to the conclusion that she must be a Carian based on the crystals and bird cages strewn about their chamber, but I don't actually think this is certain. These could also pertain to the Cuckoo, the original headmasters of Raya Lucaria. (After all, some of the cages in Raya Lucaria even contain warbling cuckoo birds.)

The Cuckoo are a somewhat overlooked dynasty, but there are slight hints that they may be related to the Nox in some way. It would be very interesting if we got to see some semblence of their former glory, before Rennala descended from the Mountaintops and overtook the academy. Perhaps then we might glean more on the primordial current so coveted by Lusat, Azur, and Sellen?

Messmer the Impaler

Where to even begin with this latest addition to Miyazaki's divine freakshow.

The first thing that jumps out to me is their name, "Messmer." Given the context of Miquella, St. Trina, and the yet underexplored concept of dreams, I'm reminded of 18th century physician Franz Mesmer, the pioneer of hypnotism. Mesmer dabbled in astronomy, and believed all beings were connected to the inanimate world through "animal magnetism." In his practice, he developed the first inklings of hypnotic suggestion, then known as Mesmerism.

The use of serpents in Messmer's designs could relate him to the Eternal Serpent that wished to devour the Erdtree and the world, which later became Rykard's obsession. In fact, the red flame Messmer channels bears a striking chromatic resemblance to the Taker's Flames. Perhaps he could be related to the ancient heretical cult of Mt. Gelmir...? (I still wonder what the hell is going on with the volcano's peak, as it does resemble a gnarled tree.)

The red hair would relate this figure to the Fire Giants and/or the Fire Monks, which is particularly strange. Then again, we do find the Fire Giants impaled on briars, though these supposedly pertain to Radagon himself.

The most enthralling detail to me, however, is Messmer's sealed eye.

Eyes are diegetically symbolic, and thus far we've met two characters with sealed eyes: Melina and Lunar Princess Ranni. It's likely that both of these characters are Empyreans, and as we've never seen any other Empyreans' eyes (Malenia's are covered by rotten scales, and there's no official depiction of Marika with her eyes open or intact), I take it to be a cosmological signifier of their divine status. If so, might Messmer be yet another Empyrean...? Their open eye is golden and draconic, though I'm not sure what this could entail.

I'm sure I'll be mulling it over for a while, lol.

Other random thoughts

The wolf-lion-mage thing is frickin' sweet, but I like that it appears to be a puppet of sorts, and that whatever puppeteers it is relatively human.

HIGH MONK

CRUCIBLE WINGS

SPECIAL DUAL-WIELDED WEAPONS??

BUTTERFLY MAGIC (purple....)

That definitely looks like Deathroot crawling across the landscape

RUNEBEAR INCANT (so probably even crazier runebears lmao)

Just kind of gesturing at everything because what the hell how is this even the same game it looks insane and fuckin JUICY

June isn't all that far off...

[foxgloveprincess]

Pairing: DBF Ari Levinson x Female Reader [Second Person Narrator]

Word Count: 4,037

Summary: Outside your doors, things threaten the peace in your attic. Ari might need your help, but can he trust you?

Attic Wives Anonymous Masterlist

Warnings: Dark/Soft Dark, Dubious Consent, previous Kidnapping, Attic Wife Trope, Unreliable Narrator, Anxiety, Kissing, Smut (Groping, Dry Humping/Grinding, Finger Sucking, Thigh Riding, Vaginal Penetration, Unprotected Sex, mild Anal Play), Slapping (just one), Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Modern AU, Age Gap (Ari is in his 40s, Reader is in her mid-20s), Dad’s Best Friend, mentions of Strained Father/Daughter Relationship, Minor Character Death, Yandere Behavior, Obsessive Behavior, Crying, Pet Names (li’l dip, baby, li’l bear, etc). Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: Ari is my very favorite in this AU. He’s just so frickin’ soft and tender for his li’l dip. What I wouldn’t give to be locked in his attic. 🥰 I hope you enjoy!

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog/comment if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account. 

I don’t do tag lists, so follow @foxglovefics to sign up for notifications on my fics.

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

He stops locking the door. The first time you notice, you don’t quite pinpoint the reason why you’re unsettled. An absence simply needles at the back of your mind until Ari visits you again. 

But it keeps happening. The door knob turning under your hand each time Ari leaves. Temptation itches at you. To follow your captor out of your room. To wait for the right moment to sneak out the door. To escape. 

Yet you don’t. The mere thought of it sparks a panic that skitters up your spine and freezes you in place. What if it’s all a trap? What if he’s toying with you? What would he do if you were caught trying to run? 

It’s like he knows. The spirals of your mind keeping you more trapped in your room than any physical lock. 

“Where’s my li’l dip?” he asks, with a giant smile cracking his lips. 

You glance over your shoulder at his entrance. The door to the attic left open—wide open—right behind him. You stare at it a beat too long. Temptation a sharp prick that fades quickly. You turn back, bury yourself in your blankets, and tuck those thoughts away. 

Ari’s big, burly arms wrap around your waist and pull you from your cocoon. The solid wall of his chest presses to your back. He nuzzles against your neck and presses a kiss to your pulse point. You wriggle and he chuckles deep in his throat. 

“Oh, baby bear,” he coos. His hot breath brushes against your skin. “Don’t be like that. You know Daddy just wants some loving.” One hand releases you so he can trace his fingers across your cheek. “After all he’s done for you this week.” 

Images of his head between your thighs as you woke the past few days, the soreness that lingers at your core, the way your breath hitches at just the thought. Your eyes flutter shut and you try to hide from the embarrassment of it all. 

“No,” he says, letting his fingers wrap around your neck and tip your head back. He plants a kiss on your cheek and your jaw. “Want you right here with me.” His arm tightens around you and presses you infinitesimally closer. “We gotta talk, baby.” 

Your thoughts pause. His statement so incongruous to his actions. His wanting hands and intimate proximity do not signify a desire to simply talk. 

“About what?” you ask, trepidation turning your stomach. A thousand possibilities fly through your head. 

Ari sighs and tugs gently at your shoulder. He waits for you to turn over, face to face, before beginning. 

“I know we’ve been so happy together. That this has been the best thing we’ve ever had happen to us.” He smiles and the wave of affection and sincerity buffets you—somehow still unused to it. 

At his patient and silent prompting, you nod while keeping eye contact. Knowing it’s a placation—and wondering whether you can say it’s just that. 

“It hasn’t been easy,” Ari says, tipping his forehead to rest against yours. “There have been obstacles for us.”

“Obstacles?”

A muscle in Ari’s jaw ticks. His nostrils flare on a deep breath. He collects himself a minute before saying, “your father took our decision rather harder than expected.” 

A confused, “what?” croaks out of your throat before you can stop it. 

“You know how he is,” Ari says, slotting a thick thigh between yours. “Everyone has to play the part, the perfect family.” Fingers grab at the back of your pajama shorts, sinking into your plush flesh. “You never quite fit his standards, did you?” 

You blink at the tears that form on your waterline. But they drip down your cheeks anyway. Sniffing does nothing to stop them. 

“Hey, li’l love,” Ari coos in the softest voice, wiping at the stream of tears. “You know you’ve always been perfect for me.” Kisses land on your cheeks. The tickle of Ari’s beard so familiar now. The comfort he offers more tempting than an open door would ever be. 

He pauses a moment to wrap a blanket tighter around your shoulders and over your legs, his body a furnace. You bask in the warmth and sleep tugs at your eyelids. 

Ari leans back and tilts your chin up. “Stay with me, baby. There’s more,” he admits with a regret-filled click of his teeth. 

You blink away the sleep. Your eye catches the patches of grey at his temples and in his beard. Using them to pull yourself back into focus. You take a deep breath and swallow a yawn. 

“He went to the cops once he got back from vacation.” Ari sighs again, his brows tilted with sympathy. “They’ve been trying to poke their nose into things. I have a lawyer friend who’s been helping me out, but I still think they suspect I did something untoward with you.” 

A faint, “oh,” breezes past your lips. You’re not sure what to think. Obviously, there are some skews in Ari’s perspective. Probably some in yours, too. 

“I can admit I’m nervous,” Ari confesses with a duck of his chin. “What if they want to take you away from me?” He shifts on the bed, his thigh grinding against your sex through your pajamas. Your belly flutters with the friction. “The thought of you all alone. It drives me crazy. I can’t let that happen to you, not to my sweet baby.”

“If my dad wants to find me—” 

Ari cuts you off with a kiss, hands cradling your cheeks. You gasp again his lips and clutch at the front of his shirt. You melt into it, the softness and gentleness. Intoxicating. When he pulls away, his forehead finds yours again. 

“He suffered a heart attack about a week ago. He didn’t make it,” your captor whispers, sympathy lacing his voice like poison. “Candace moved to Majorca. There’s no one left for you, but they still want to take you away.” 

Speech eludes you. Your dad died.  Why can’t you figure out how to feel about it? So ambivalent to him being gone. Grief the furthest thing from your mind. Because it’s not like you can deny it. No other family above ground. An old job as a pawn for a giant corporation leaving you faceless in a crowd. You really would be alone. 

“You need me, don’t you, baby bear?”

You think a moment, gazing into Ari’s blue eyes. He waits for you, neither prodding nor rushing. Peering into your very soul, searching for honesty. 

When you part your lips to speak, you’re unsure what will come out. A dull part of you wants to claw out of his embrace and scream at him. Storm out the door and disappear into the surrounding forest until you find the nearest road. The other wants to agree and burrow into the safety of his chest. Find comfort in his steady heartbeat, sink and never resurface. 

“Yes, Daddy.” 

Ari’s eyes sparkle. He’s so gorgeous when he looks at you like you hang the moon and stars, you can’t help but swoon. Perhaps it’s true. You hadn’t been joking with Arielle those few months ago—you really did need this, want this, crave this. So easy your acceptance has been. 

Your throat dries, swallowing down the realization like shards of glass. Tears prick at your eyes once more. To hide from them, you tuck your head into the crook of Ari’s neck. 

He wraps you in his arms and strokes your back along your spine. His lips croon sweet nothings in your ear, whispers of admiration that just make you feel worse. Your head shakes, smushed as it is against him. 

“Does my sweet girl not feel praiseworthy?” 

Your head continues to shake and he hums. 

“Guess I’ll have to show you,” he says as if it doesn’t make him pleased as punch to have the opportunity. 

It starts with a slow grind and a heavy sigh. He rocks your hips, pinning you against his thighs with much more intention and intensity. A spark skitters up your spine, a whimper accompanying it up your throat. 

Your mind quiets to this moment. The way your captor is about to make you feel. Your eyes meet. Hunger exchanged between your gazes. His strong and bold, yours just as ravenous but tinged by hesitation. 

“Let Daddy take care of you,” he whispers with a quirk of his brow. He waits only for you to blink before devouring any other response in a passionate kiss. 

His tongue licks its way into your mouth, tangling with yours. Searching for the delicious sounds you produce with every sultry slide of your cunt. Still slow, controlled, but with that anticipatory promise of wild need. 

Your nails sink into his chest, catching on his chest hair and scratching along his pecs. He grunts and jerks his hips forward, his cock a hard press against you. Ready to bury into you like a sword finding its sheathe. Yet his restraint keeps every motion steady. 

The smell of his sweat fills your nose, mingling with his cologne. You inhale deeply. Addicted to the scent. Wishing to drown yourself in it. Ignore to whom it belongs. To imagine a world where the man feeling your slick soaking through your thin layers didn’t drug and kidnap you. That he didn’t catfish you and pose as a friend. A world where you met and fell in love like normal people. Even a world where he offered to lock you away and you agreed. 

Ari hisses as your teeth catch his tongue. But he doesn’t linger, trailing his kisses down your cheek to your throat. 

“What’s wrong, li’l dip?”

“Nothing,” you warble, hoping he thinks your pleasure affects your voice, not a deep cavern of dismay. 

He looks up and meets your watery eyes. You try to look away, but he enthralls you with the piercing certainty of his gaze and you can’t. For a long moment, he just stares, reading every thought running through your head.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, after a moment. “I understand.” His hands cup your cheeks and he presses a kiss to your forehead, his hips beginning to rock harder against your own. 

Your lips part. Ari’s thumb traces your skin and sinks between your parted flesh. Your tongue licks at the pad of his finger and you begin to suck. Soothing yourself with his digit. His other hand moves between you, groping your breast and kneading them one at a time. 

“I love you,” he says, your name a reverent punctuation to his declaration. “I love you more than anything.” 

You blink, but can’t respond with his thumb in your mouth. And he doesn’t move it away, not requiring one. Part of you wonders if he realizes that this isn’t real—not love. The other wonders if it is, if you could accept it. The answer blindsides you, plowing to the forefront of your mind and leaving you stunned.

His hips buck, a vigorous motion jostling you in the blankets. A moan spills from his lips and the last thread of his control frays, reveals a taste of the full extent of his appetite.

He strips his shirt from his body, a quick motion to replace his thumb between your lips as quickly as possible. With the one hand left, he pushes his shorts and boxer briefs from his legs. 

Hot and hard, his cock slots against your sex. He slides it between your legs and grunts. Friction eased by the arousal coating your thighs and dripping from the head of his cock. His free hand shoves your clothes out of the way. Seeking a clear path to your dripping entrance. Fabric bunching around your knees. 

The head of his cock taps at your clit. Your hips jerk and he finds your entrance, just that press and prod enough to send you reeling. Your fingers grab at him, needy. Your brain foggy with lust, you glance down to see him plunging into you. Slow and sure. 

“Fuck,” you whimper around his thumb. 

He seats himself fully inside you. A breath  rushes across your lips. Ari rolls his hips. You buck to meet him, skin sticking to the blankets beneath you, already worked up with so little provocation. 

“You fit me so perfectly,” Ari praises. 

You nod, bobbing your head without pause. Agreeing still as he starts to pull out and thrust back in. His spit slick thumb retreats from your mouth, trailing down your torso and between you to play with the throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. A satisfied hum vibrates out of your throat, though your lips seal shut to keep it at bay. Ari projects his sounds of pleasure, filling the room as he ruts against you on your bed. 

It’s a lazy dance that chases the high between you. Ari’s thrusts controlled, precise. Your own answering movements are less so, too focused on the feelings drowning out your thoughts. You need them. 

Ari keeps your eyes locked. Sometimes you think he can’t cum without that contact. Even when he’s taken you from behind. He needs to see your eyes. Needs to see them gloss over with lust and longing when you’re not sure where you end and he begins. 

He looks for it now. That haze that rolls over you. Consuming pleasure. Your leg trembles, hitching up to try to hook over him. Your shorts and underwear prevent it, stretched too taut. You whine and release Ari from your grip to push the offending material down to your ankles and kick them off the rest of the way. He pauses, reveling in the moment to lavish your tits through your shirt. He hikes it up and bends his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. 

“So sweet for me,” he says, switching to the other. 

Your back arches toward him. The sensation a plucking tease without fulfillment. You huff in frustration and roll your hips, fucking yourself on his cock. A hand falls to Ari’s ass, helping support the movement and push him deeper into you. 

“Please,” you beg, unhappy with his pause to focus only on your breasts, wanting more despite how good it feels. 

“Please what?” he asks, arching a brow and pulling away from your chest. ��What does my sweet baby want?”

You whine high in your throat. “Want you to fuck me.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Knowing how it peeves him. 

“You know that’s not what I want to hear,” he says with a slap to your left breast. It jiggles and stings from the impact. 

You hiss and pout, looking to Ari and seeing the serious set of his brow. With a blink, your eyes lower to the hollow of his throat. Hesitant fingers reach out and wrap over his biceps, scratching at his skin. 

“Please, Daddy, will you fuck me?” The words are a whisper, a secret that you can’t confess. That every time the title falls past your lips, the heat that rises up through your body, setting you alight, is not from shame but a burning captivation. 

“That’s my girl,” Ari coos. 

His hips clap to yours. No longer restrained undulations, but bold claiming thrusts that knock your teeth together and drive you out of your senses. He traces his fingers down your back, holding you in place for a moment. The way they sink into your voluptuous curves, imprinting him onto you. But they wander, yet to have found their true destination. 

They find your clit and fondle your lower lips, stretched tight around his cock, and continue to drift. They find their place back and around, finding the crack of your cheeks and the puckered rosebud between. 

Your eyes widen, hips bucking away in surprise. He’d never expressed any kind of interest before. Your gaze darts to his eyes, wary of upsetting him but searching for answers. Shocked away from the rising euphoria of climax.

“Daddy always takes care of you, doesn’t he?” he asks with a soothing kiss, circling the sensitive flesh of your hole. 

You hum in high-pitched affirmation, focused on his finger’s tender, slick prodding and all the more distracted by the grind of his pelvis catching on your clit. 

The tip of his finger breaches you, and you wince. Unused to such violation, you’re unsure how to feel. Delicately he pets, in and out, only the tip. Offering a feeling of fullness that you can’t quite grasp. 

“Been thinking about this,” Ari explains, working in rhythm to coax that smoldering glow into a wildfire once again. “I know you never mentioned it in our talks, but you did say you wanted to be all mine. Mind.” he accentuates the word with a thrust of both cock and finger. “Body.” He thrusts again, his digit sinking further into your hole on his retreat. “Soul.” Another thrust that hits just right. 

Rapture eclipses your mind, a white burst that consumes you and sends you reeling over the peak of your orgasm. A sound rips from your chest. Your nails scratch, drawing red stripes across his arms. At the sight, lungs heaving for breath, you release him and reach up to sink your fingers into his hair. You grip at the root and buck toward him. Entranced by the high that rushes through you. Your lips find his and you moan into his waiting mouth. Content as he is to drink it up. 

The aftershocks continue to seize your frame, even as Ari continues on. Steady in his destruction of your sanity and your propriety. 

“You’re so tight, li’l dip,” he says, heavier than before. His muscles strain as he talks, holding himself back from the precipice. “We can work with that. Got a friend, makes quality accessories.” He moans and squeezes his eyes shut for the first time, his hips stuttering in their rhythm. “The thought of you with a cute little tail plug and ears, frilly little bow around your neck.” He huffs and you whine before he kisses you with fervent force. “My own li’l baby bear to play with just how I want.”

His words cut short of a breath, unable to hold out any longer. He cums inside you, painting your walls. You mewl at the sensation. He breathes in relief with a few more weary thrusts of his cock. 

“What do you think?” Ari asks, with a sunny smile, pulling his finger from your ass but keeping himself seated deep inside you. 

“You’re aware of all the trouble you’ve caused, miss?” The officer—no sheriff—sits across from you, coffee cup by his hand and file open flat in front of him. 

You nod your head and look around the dismal, bare walls of the room. A cup of cool water sits in a glass by your hand, untouched since another officer brought it in. 

“I didn’t realize my dad would notice,” you say honestly. Your pulse spikes in your ear, a constant thundering beat. Teeth on edge, you look to the man across from you and meet his eyes. Your hands a ball of kneading fingers on your lap. 

“So, you claim that this disappearance was a spur of the moment getaway. No foul play.” There’s a southern drawl to his words, not something you’d expect to find here. You examine him. Brown hair styled in an overgrown crew cut, greying at the temples. His leather jacket strains over his shoulders and stomach. His face puffy but wrinkled, showing his age. He chews on a piece of candy, rattling it between his teeth while he waits. 

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused,” you say, reciting the words practiced with Ari. Your fingers dip into the collar of your shirt, pulling the knit fabric away from your throat. You wonder what time it is now. It seems an age ago that Ari escorted you into the local police station and explained the situation for you to the officers from the city. You’d expressed an inclination for a vacation, and he’d provided his private cabin. You’d been off the grid, getting some much needed rest. Hadn’t heard a thing about a search or your father’s passing until Ari had a chance to come get you. 

“Your father’s acquaintance seems very, uh, friendly,” the sheriff says with a suggestive wag of his eyebrows. 

Your cheeks heat. This is the moment, you think. If ever there were a time to cry out for help, for escape. Sitting across from an officer of the law, someone who can get you away. Already suspicious of the situation, ready to act. 

Your mouth dries, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “We,” you stumble over your answer, “you see, the thing is, we…” 

The sheriff’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing you. Tears threaten, born from the stress of the situation and the volley of thoughts filling in your head. You look to the table, hands clutching into tight fists on your lap. Your diaphragm expands with a deep breath. 

“After we met through my dad, we kept talking, even though I didn’t realize it was him at the time,” you explain as steady as you can, mind full of images of being completely alone. Without family, without friends, without Ari. “We’ve bonded.” 

The name tag on the sheriff’s shirt glints in the fluorescent lights. You trace the letters with your eyes and wait for him to say something. 

“What would that bond be, exactly?” Sheriff Bodecker asks. 

Your mind blanks on how to describe it. The tether almost visibly linking you to Ari. The thought a bittersweet one. That this was all inevitable. 

“He takes care of me,” you reply, tilting your head, ready to explain further.

But a sleazy scoff from the sheriff stops you. “I get it,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Couldn’t have your old man know about his friend being your sugar daddy on the side.” He closes the file and leers at you, a slow perusal at your figure over the table. 

“I—” you stop. Words fizzle on your tongue. No way to form an appropriate defense for yourself. 

He licks his lips and stands. One hand rests on his belt buckle, the other holds his file. He taps it on the table and says, “I guess you’re free to go, then. Your beau must be worried about you by now.”

Your skin crawls at his suggestive tone—every word from his mouth somehow dripping with innuendo. 

“Let’s get you home.” The door opens with his hand, and he directs you out with a nod. 

You scurry past him, a wary glance sent back over your shoulder. Your feet carry you quickly to the front of the station where Ari waits, lounging back on a wooden bench. His head lifts the moment your footsteps echo over to him and he jumps up. 

“Everything alright?” he asks in a whisper, hands grasping your shoulders and peering into your eyes. “Did you tell them what happened?” 

The heavier tread of Sheriff Bodecker’s shoes approach and stop by the front desk. 

“She answered all our questions. The city cops are all satisfied,” he says with a tip of his head. “She’s free.”

Ari’s arm wraps around your shoulders and he breathes in relief. He guides you out of the station and into his car, parked as close as possible. The shadows of night hang all around you. Owls hooting in the trees and not another soul driving down the street. How late could it possibly be? 

You find the passenger seat and Ari closes your door. Before you can blink, he’s backing out of his spot and driving away from the station. Your eyes still locked on the light shining from the glass panes of the door, and possibly your best and last chance at escape. 

Ari’s arm stretches over the back of the bench seat, pulling you close and tucking you beside him. You follow his silent direction and rest your head against your captor’s chest. The sheriff’s final words echoing in your head. 

Free. Sure.  

[papparinoo]

something i like about the blue eye samurai is that they let mizu be a woman. And i know thats ironic since shes had to instead be a man, or let ppl assume shes a man so she could be safe or taken seriously. If anything they dont let her actually choose. idk if that makes any sense, but when i didnt know anything about this show i immediately expected the protagonist to be a man. Usually men play those roles, or whatever. So when i heard her voice in the trailer, i got excited! I hoped that she would be a woman, bcuz i rarely see women who dont look perfect, who arent wearing like skin tight suits or whatever portrayed this way. For me personally i always end up wanting a woman to be in the “mans shoes” or whagever the fuck. I wish i could articulate myself better. Like fuck they actually let a woman look badass as fuck, shes treated with respect in portraying her skills (by the story), and she isnt like the epitome of beauty (for social standards or whatever, to me she’s absolutely frickin gorgeous)

They actually let her exist outside of this lens of what woman should look like or act like. I know its been done before or whatever, but fuck it i barely see woman depicted in this same lens as a man and not make some joke about it. Shes not degraded to a sex object, her appearance isnt perfect or the beauty standard, she gets to be a killer and skilled swordsman in the same light as taigen. It felt rlly great.

I personally struggle with my gender identity, i feel somehow someway im not woman enough. So seeing mizu sort of go through not fitting this sort of standard, having this idea of being a man forced upon her, its all so complicated and interesting and relatable. Maybe that says something about me, maybe it doesnt. But im so excited to see where they take mizu and her gender. Akemi feels like such a foil against mizu. She fits the beauty standard, shes observed as a woman and has her own power. She’s unfortunately the luckiest a woman could be in the story, her being married and such was better than being sold. But still powerless at the same time. It makes sense why mizu was dismissive of akemi at the beginning, to her it looked like akemi was just a brat, but even akemi struggles with not being taken seriously. Mizu on the other hand doesnt fit the standard, being mixed, seen less than human for not fitting the standard, not being “woman” enough (the whole husband thing where her actually being better than him immediately made her husband like dismissing of her and possibly ratting on her as well) the whole constant thing of her “mom” telling her she doesnt have good looks, it often felt like mizu was fighting against not only being mixed and “not pure”, but also fighting against what a woman could exist as..”not pure”. She could not just plainly exist.

Gender stuff is so damn complicated and its something ive struggled with. Ive tried exploring the idea that maybe im trans, maybe im a man or nonbinary. But it felt so relieving to see mizu as a character. Something that stuck out to me was when she was talking to her ex husband. He asked “u wanted to be a man?” And she said something along the lines of “i had to be one” and it felt sort of vindicating in the sense that damn idk.. like me and my siblings have struggled with our genders and whats expected of us, especially within our culture. Ive had conversations with my sister like about how sometimes we do wish we were men. To be taken seriously, to easily do things without feeling so judged. Maybe cis people dont do that, maybe they do, its okay.

I just love mizu, and im so excited to explore this story.

[dreamlifebunny]

Hi idk if this is a stupid question or not but I just want to know, I saw you had a gifts from the universe post or something like that and it talked about fictional characters and such, so with that does that mean I can manifest a fictional character into my reality? Like this reality? I was always told I couldn't do that and if I can omg I'm gonna cry happy tears haha 😭💖

hi hi! not a stupid question at ALL, seriously! you absolutely frickin' can manifest a fictional character in your reality! 🥰 isn't that so exciting!? your childhood dreams are about to pop off hehe. this is a much longer post than i expected because i kinda just rant, but i hope it's helpful.

so, i found reality shifting through the self-ship community, then i found law of assumption through the reality shifting community, and then found non-dualism through the law of assumption community. if there is ONE thing i want everyone to take away from ANY of these teachings/communities (regardless of which ones you follow and resonate with) it is that anything that you can imagine, you can experience.

we are the creators. we are the experiencers. we are. the thing about "fictional characters" is that, as the creators of our lives, we as humans have also created whole other worlds with lore and characters, right? if you are aware of the these worlds, their lore, their wonderful characters, then they absolutely exist, right now, because they were created by us. if you are holding them in your imagination, they are here, because you as imagination is all that there is. and that means, if you are imagining them to be in your "real world" reality, then they can absolutely show up here.

now if someone told you that you can't manifest fictional characters into your reality and they were in the law of assumption community, they do not understand what the law of assumption is all about. i mean, it's in the name of the teaching, "assumption," right? what you ASSUME to be true, will be true. if you assume that fictional characters can come into your reality, then that'll be true! eep i'm getting so exciting even just thinking about this, haha! i have nothing but respect and love for the reality shifting community because they opened up my societally-conditioned perspective to a lot of possibilities and changes, but a lot of people in the shifting community have many limiting beliefs about what is possible. the truth is, if you can shift your consciousness to be in a "fictional" freaking world, then you can do just about anything in this world too, right? people believe that they can shift to entirely "made up" worlds that they script, but they don't believe that they can alter their "current reality" with the same scripting techniques, even though they absolutely can and none of it is different from reality shifting to a "fake" world. it's all possible, regardless of the reality you are experiencing!

as proof from my own experience, i actually have a fictional character i brought into my life! in my case, i was hyperfixating on this fictional character who was an absolutely nasty evil dirt bag but i was sooo in love with him (classic lmao). in the beginning i wasn't even trying to bring him here, i was just trying to "reality shift" to meet him and come back to my "current reality" where i was safe because i knew he was a toxic man i should have no business being with haha. i knew i didn't want him in my reality because he was, well, evil, but i did wanna visit him and hang in a "different reality" for a period of time. i always told myself, "i wish there was a version of this character that would just love the shit out of me and not be so evil, one that i actually would love to have around every day..." and every night i would try to reality shift to a world to hang out with him despite this thought in my head. i never felt disappointed when i woke up in my CR because the joy i had was in visualizing hanging out before bed. it felt really real in the moment, just daydreaming and feeling silly and sweet, and it brought me so much happiness - as daydreams should!

i never ended up shifting my awareness to that reality, because something even better happened. since i imagined meeting him and spending time with him every night and persisted in the idea that i would eventually reality shift, i ended up manifesting a person into my life who had every quality that i loved in the evil character WITHOUT the evilness, and he ended up being my best friend and one of my partners! this person showed up in my life and completely flipped my world around, bring me everything that the fictional character had brought me in my imagination. like, everything, minus the bad stuff that i didn't want. it was the first case of manifesting that i had ever been super conscious of achieving, and it changed my whole perspective on the practice. i also immediately stopped caring about the old character i had been manifesting because i was so obsessed with this new person in my life LOL. it was pure magic!!

now, i realize that this is not at exact example of your question, as you're asking if you can bring a fictional character into this reality exactly as they are. and guess what? you absolutely can. the only reason i didn't bring this exact character into my reality was because i wanted a different version of him to show up, but if i had wanted him to show up exactly as he was, he would have! i wanted to give you this as an example of something like this so you can see the possibilities, but don't let the fact that it wasn't the exact fictional character deter you - my fictional person showed up exactly as i wanted him to, and yours can too! you can even make them better! 😎 hehe

this was a long-assed post, but i hope it brought some joy and excitement. please remember: you can do, be, and have any frickin' thing you want in this life, if your beautiful mind can dream it up! dream beautiful dreams and know that absolutely everything is possible! so much love 💗

[autumnmobile12]

Predictions for Nocturne

(some serious speculation, some silly)

Imagining that one scene from Symphony of the Night where Alucard ends up fighting the fake Trevor, Sypha and Grant (Greta.) Cause him being in a situation where he has to kill an enemy that looks, acts, and fights exactly like the people he loved three centuries ago seems suitably heart-wrenching.

Wondering if Nocturne's going to partially follow the plot of Symphony where Richter is captured and controlled by Shaft the dark priest, so Maria and Alucard are searching for him. I'm basing this solely off the female voice in the teaser (possibly Maria?) saying, "We're looking for someone called Belmont."

So Richter's character arc would be him attempting to regain his honor after all the harm he caused under Shaft's influence?

Part of me legitimately wonders if St. Germain is gonna be back. Yes, this is a nod to his Curse of Darkness design, but his clothes here are not medieval. (More Victorian than anything?)

Nocturne is supposed to take place during the French Revolution, the first of three beginning in 1789. The top hat is believed to have been invented in 1793. French gentleman wearing the latest fashion?

The series never specifically says St. Germain is from the same time period he wound up in after his first encounter with the Infinite Corridor. Is this why he knows about stuff like toilet paper and is constantly looking down his nose at all the filthy medieval people? Is he just being a whiny bitch about being sent back in time?

He tells Trevor that he knew his family. Is this because he met the descendants? (I suppose this could be his twisted reconciliation about betraying them since he's seen the 'future' and he knows the line endures and Alucard is still alive.)

This is wild speculation that probably won't be the case, but I kinda really want this to happen since Alucard's reaction to a human he thought was dead for three centuries just casually showing up out of nowhere would be priceless.

The French Revolution was the era of powdered wigs and shockingly fabulous courtly decadence and the Queen having a frickin' boat in her hair.

If we don't get at least one vampire (or Belmont) in a stupidly ostentatious wig, then what are we even doing?

Two schools of thought in my head:

Hoping Nocturne also does not include the Succubus as an overtly sexualized character in the interest of not objectifying women.

On the other hand, a discomfited Alucard looking the demon lady right in the eye and saying, "Madam, kindly remove yourself from my personal space," is a very humorous image.

On a more serious note, there is also the Nightmare scene in Symphony of the Night to consider where the Succubus shows Alucard a vision of his mother right before her execution in an attempt to trick him, so there's potential for a, "How dare you make me relive that!" moment.

Can these two come back? They did not get enough screen time in the first round.

Striga's last line to their soldiers is an order to ride west. France is west.

Also, is it really an accident that Morana's hairstyle in Season 4 is a French twist? Foreshadowing....

[ironicallypissedoff]

Icorect PJO/HOO quotes from this website :https://perchance.org/incorrect-quote-generator

Thalia: You seem familiar, have I threatened you before?

--------

Nico: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

-------

Percy: So according to the cease and desist order I got, apparently you can’t ‘legally’ be a lawyer if your license is ‘cut out of a cereal box’.

--------

Percy: Pros and cons of dating me. Percy: Pros. You'll be the cute one. Percy: Cons. Holy shit, where do I begin-

------

Grover: Yum, thanks!

Kidnapper: *puts more tape over their mouth* I said stop eating it.

-------

Nico: My aesthetic is "would be suspected of witchcraft by small town citizens."

-------

Annabeth in TLT

Annabeth: *trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark*

Annabeth: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?"

Associate: Well, I-

Annabeth: How about "You banged my mom?"

Associate: No...

Annabeth: You know what, I'll just get a blank one.

Annabeth: *writes* You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card.

--------

Leo: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."

------

Nico: You can't wake up if you never get to sleep.

-------

Piper, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

-------

Hazel: War is heck!

------

Jason: I have yet to encounter a problem where a sword didn't factor into the solution at least in some way.

------

Frank: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

-------

Will: Can we go to a haunted house?

Nico: What’s wrong with the one we live in?

Will: Wh-what?

Nico: Goodnight, Will.

-------

Percy: Shouldn't get stressed out, it's not good for the baby.

Annabeth: What baby?

Percy, crying a bit: Me.

--------

*The Squad is playing Chess*

Annabeth: *easily beats everyone because they know how to play*

Piper: *doesn’t know the rules, but wins anyway*

Leo: *doesn’t know the rules, and loses*

Jason: *knows the rules, but still loses to those who don’t*

Frank: Actually, you can’t do that, because I said so.

Percy: They named a board game after cheese?

--------

*when the Squad drops food*

Annabeth: Eh, oh well.

Piper: FIVE-SECOND RULE!

Nico: FUCK!

Jason: *just gets more food*

Percy: *drops to their knees and mourns the food*

Leo: *eats the food off the ground*

---------

Leo: Who else is hiding in the laundry room trying to listen to Hazel and Frank's convo?

Piper: Me. I'm in the laundry basket.

Percy: I'm in the washing machine.

Nico: I'm in the closet.

Jason: We accept you Nico. <3

Nico: No I'm literally in the closet.

Jason: Love is love. <3

--------

Frank: Are you trying to give me a frickin’ aneurysm?

Percy: Pretty sure we all are.

Hazel: I wasn't.

Leo: I was.

Jason: I was trying to stop them, for your consideration.

Nico: I just cause aneurysms naturally.

--------

Annabeth: Okay, I’m going to get the wedding cake.

Percy: Perfect, while you do that I’ll check on the ring bear.

Annabeth: ...

Annabeth: You mean ring bearER, right?

Percy: ...

Annabeth: Look me in the eyes and tell me you are not going to bring a dangerous wild animal to our wedding.

---------

Nico: I don't need to go to bed. I'm not tired, I'll be fine.

Will: But, darling, I'll be so lonely without you. Come curl up in my arms so I can feel whole again.

Nico: O-oh. Well. Are you trying to seduce me into healthy sleeping patterns??

Will: Is it working?

-------

BONUS MAGNUS CHASE

Mallory: Nothing in life is free.

Sam: Love is free.

T.J: Knowledge is free.

Alex: Friendship is free.

Halfborn: Self-respect is free.

Magnus: Everything's free if you don't pay for it.

The Squad: ...

T.J: Magnus, that's illegal-

Alex: No, let them finish!

sooooooo yep. Hope you enjoyed

[therkalexander]

Hey,

Do you have any Updates to the 4th Book of Hades and Persephone? I am sooo excited for this Book❤️

I am too! I think The Ineffable Seeds is going to be a pretty damn good yarn but like all my books it’s takes a while to drop 125k words onto a page.

I’m currently working on it, and mapping out the middle end of the story. It’s a book where I know where it starts and where it ends, but would kick myself if I left any mythological threads loose or stones unturned that deserve to be upended.

Meanwhile,

A lot of my available writing time has gone into screenwriting, a new venture for me, because a pilot script for Receiver of Many has been demanded and I really frickin’ broke myself on the wheel this last month making sure it was what I wanted to see on screen and had enough back story from the Titanomachy to round out the original prologue I wrote.

So! Things are moving quickly on that front, the TV Show is in development, should be in preproduction by the beginning of next year, and I’ll have a lot more concrete updates shortly.

[redwinterroses]

Boatem, on any given day, was probably gonna be two things:

Obviously, the first was “chaotic.” That surprises no one, yeah? Raise your hand if you’re surprised that Boatem was chaotic. 

See? No hands. It's a thing that is known. You got your end crystals and tree wars and mountains going up over night and ravagers raining from the heavens… Boatem was the home-sweet-home of chaos. And it lived there very comfortably.

But the second trait that Boatem had, on every day that end in Y, wasn’t quite as obvious. 

It was "secretive."

Hah. Yeah, I see your quirked eyebrow of skepticism. Look buddy, I had a bird’s eye view of the whole thing and I can tell you this for sure: the only reason none of those morons got caught out in their big secrets was that they were all too busy being cartoonishly self-conscious to notice literally everyone else doing the same thing.

That thing being, specifically: pretending to be human.

Yeah. You heard me. Human. Pretending. As in: none of that lot are human in any way, shape, and only occasionally in form.

Take Mumbo for example. Dear old Mumbo Jumbo, my personal nemesis—and also the member of Boatem I got to see up close and personal the most.

Lucky me.

He somehow managed to hide it right under everyone else’s nose, which I can only chalk up to years of trusting friendship mixed with a hilarious lack of awareness. His shapeshifting abilities have never been more unstable than they were in Boatem—maybe it was the chaos bleeding through, or the way that world was a bit unstable even from the very beginning… Either way, he turned into a living potato right in front of all of them and they barely blinked. 

A potato.

Night after night I had to listen to him pacing around in his storage room, muttering to himself about how dangerous it was to be a shapeshifter living with a bunch of humans. How he was putting a lot at risk and what fibs he was going to tell to play it off as some sort of joke or prank. I started keeping a scratch tally of how many times he said “Oh dear. Oh dear."

I ran out of space about two weeks in.

But it’s not like any of his neighbors were going to notice anyway. “Living with a bunch of humans,” my big wishbone. 

Human. Hah. Right, like “human” Pearl—the alien who ducked her feathery antennae in her hair any time someone came around, who floated around her base like gravity was frickin' optional? Pearl, who nearly got caught with her antennae out every time someone ran past and jumped like a skittish rabbit enough to raise anyone’s suspicions… Except her clueless Boatem pals.

Or “human” Scar, who never even hides his vexy teeth when he grins, but somehow everyone acts like they don’t notice. Maybe he uses some sort of glamor on them—not like I’d know. Magic is ticklish territory for my type. All I know is that for someone who loudly proclaims to be human—a thing no human has ever actually had to do—he didn’t go to much effort to act like one. 

And then there’s that Impulse guy. I’m not sure what he is, but the one time he got close enough to peck he nearly roasted my tail feathers. Plus it seemed like all you had to do was say his name and he’d just… show up.

Downright creepy if you ask me. Not like no one ever does. Don't bother talkin' to the guy who has a view of everything for 18 chunks--no, just blame him for your dumb redstone door breaking.

Anyway. The one Mumbo seemed most desperate to hide his “secret” from was… that other one. I don’t even like to say his name, to be perfectly honest with you but I know you know who I’m talking about. The wing-appropriator. The merry prankster. The one who watches you with eyes so dark you never know where he’s looking. 

And people say I have beady black eyes.

I don’t even know why Mumbo bothered trying to hide it from Gr… from him. Or why he was trying to hide what he was from the rest of them. Or how they never noticed the extra pairs of wings that would sometimes flutter about, or how he always saw when people were trying to prank him—even if it looked like he was asleep. 

But I’ll admit it was hilarious watching them dance around each other like a couple of hens avoiding a creeper—except both of them were hens and they each thought the other was a creeper. 

Somehow—somehow—none of them ever noticed the others. Who needs camouflage when you've got friends this oblivious? Anyway, come on—we all know none of them would actually care if they revealed their precious secrets.

I kinda hope they never do, though. Five best friends, none of whom are human, all convinced that they're the only alien-vex-demon-shapeshifter-thing-nonhuman in the bunch?

That's a joke even this bird-brain can appreciate.

[thatoneguy031]

Real talk? Real?? Real?!

Why on EARTH was the cast of The Owl House so drippy?!

(A sort of breakdown from someone that's only kinda sorta kept up with the show... Me, Guy.)

Spoilers too, I guess...

Look at our favorite witch-in-training, Luz Noceda. As we can all see here, she's wearing Eda's varsity jacket when she attended Hexside. Level with me, the jacket alone was enough to be a super-dope outfit, but she took it one step further and even wore matching pants, too! Heck, she even tied up her hair in a bun, for crying out loud! She kept the aesthetic of "I'm able to stay calm, but I'm not afraid to kick your butt when the time comes."

And here's another frame of yet another scene...

Luz dancing with Amity during that one Grom episode...

She wanted to look fancy while she boogied with her soon-to-be girlfriend(At the time, anyway), so she decided to wear what exactly? A tutu, and a frickin' tuxedo! Wonderful! Fabulous! It's all so wild, but you can see that not only did Luz have a plan, it worked danged-near flawlessly! And of course, she decided to wear dance shoes, as well.

And you know what?!

I'm still not done.

I'm going to be real with you here. This is where the spoilers for the end of the show REALLY, REALLY begin! If you really want to watch the show without witnessing the beauty of Luz during [REDACTED], I HIGHLY suggest that you stay away from this post, and move on with your day! Please, leave!

...Are you still here?

Are you sure you wanna be here for [REDACTED]?

Alrightie, then...

3...

2...

1...

...

Okay, you asked for it.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

Freaking. Bam. Meet Titan Luz.

This is near perfection in cartoon form. Luz looks like she told Amity's parents, "Your daughter calls me mommy, too." She looks deranged in the best way possible.

First and foremost, the cloak nearly perfectly displays everything she's done throughout the series. The glyph on her chest, the bones appearing along the tips and edges of it, referencing her "magic donor", Arin Hanson- I mean Papa Titan(...Is he just called Papa King by the TOH fandom, or am I being dumb? Since, y'know, he's King's dad? I don't know, but back to the comedic analysis).

For Hootie's sake, she even somehow has longer, puffier hair, giving Eda a wink-wink-nudge-nudge without saying a thing. Even further, her eyes turned a pitch-black with yellow irises, making sure that King himself is involved with references as well.

Y'know, this reminds me of a character that I've had written out for a while. Y'all won't see her for a long, long while, but just know that she's tied to this in a way. Backstory aside, she has this one... form, let's call it, where she kind of becomes a vampire. This aspect of her is derived from an art account I follow, I won't say who until the time comes, but she also likes using her legs as her main means of attack, not only calling back to Izuku from MHA, but to her friend who she loves dearly, like a family member.

Back to the main point, I love characters that reference multiple other characters they have a connection to without being overbearing, which is why I love Titan Luz's design. Above all else, this proves that Luz really cared for everyone that has helped carry her this far, and was willing to fight for them, even after her death. And Eda even teaches her magic the way she said she would as early as the second episode of the series, iirc. And, something even more wild, is that Luz sort of looks like Azura, as well, even using one of her quotes for the finishing blow on Belos...

"...NOW EAT THIS, SUCKAAA!"

Admittedly, I don't know much about Luz's palisman, but I do indeed see that they're a cute little snek dude! ...Like how Luz freaked out the school and her principal with those snakes in the first episode(At least, I recall it being the first episode)! Everything about Luz's design is just... It's all just. So. Good.

...Look. I originally wanted to make a fun little ha-ha post about how stylish the characters from The Owl House were, as I highly respect this show and loved it, from the moment I saw King, to the very end of the series where the Collector gave Luz and the Hexsquad the ability to travel between realms, but seeing this transformation and taking the time to dissect her Titan Form design... It really brought me to tears. Not just because the show's actually over, but because I loved it with everything I could give. The way the show handled its characters, even with the rushed development that Disney demanded(Those freaking warm toilet seats), was phenomenal, given the circumstances.

I'll make a post talking more about King and just... him, I guess, but this post is already long enough as it is. Maybe even Eda, Hunter, Gus and Willow as well, if this post really makes its rounds.

[avengersfantasies]

The Captain's Daughter - 3

Summary: You and Bucky start to get comfortable around each other.

What to expect: sass, fluff(?), beginning of some smut ;)

Series masterlist here

Taglist: @frickin-bats @pattiemac1 @justsebstan @winterslove1917 @crist1216 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @kandis-mom  @vonalyn  @mavrellover91  @natashasilverfox  @gojoismysensei @itsafamilyshow  @casa-boiardi @ilovetaquitosmmmm

You awoke a few hours after falling asleep in Bucky’s arms. You hated to admit it, but it was the best sleep you had gotten in years. For once, you felt safe. It felt like you could close your eyes and be okay. You were careful not to wake him when you crawled out of the small bed – going a few feet away to your bag and taking out your wireless router and laptop. You typed up an email for Steve.

Dad,

Phone was ruined during a storm. Still have my laptop and comms, though. I will make my way into the nearest town when day breaks and use the card to buy a phone. I know you’ve probably been trying to reach me, so I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay. Bucky’s been watching out for me. I’ll contact you when I can.

I love you so much, dad.

You sent the email and breathed a sigh of relief. You hated when he worried about you, and he did often. Not knowing where you were, which was something that gave you massive anxiety, you looked up your coordinates and wrote them down. According to your GPS, you were somewhere in central Russia. There was a small town called Bryansk Oblast a few miles away from where you and Bucky were hunkered down. Part of you wanted to venture out and explore the small town, but you knew deep down that doing so would cause some sort of rift between you and the only other person you could tolerate. As if he could hear your inner debate, Bucky’s eyes opened and greeted you sleepily.

            “Morning, darling,” he said, his voice thick with sleep.

            “Hey,” you smiled over at him softly. “We should get ready.”

Bucky sat up and stretched. “Ready? For what?”

“We need to go on a supply run,” you told him – fishing through your backpack to find a change of clothes. However, you soon realized your clothes had been soaked and smelled of dirt and sweat. “Seriously?” you groaned, throwing them to the ground.

“What do we need?” Bucky asked, looking in his bag and taking out some canned fruit before passing you one.

“Food,” you began to list as you opened the can, “clothes, a shower, phone.”

Bucky chuckled. “And how do you suggest we get those things?”

You took a card out of your backpack and held it up to him. “No limit, untraceable,” you told him. “My dad had to jump through a lot of hoops to get me this.”

Bucky pointed at the card with his fork. “If you have that, why aren’t you living a life of luxury?”

You chuckled incredulously. “That’d draw HYDRA’s attention in no time,” you answered with your mouth full of fruit. “I’m kinda on the run here.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask…why are you running?”

You sighed and rested your head against the wall you sat against. “I escaped from their little lab,” you told him. “They captured me and my mom, killed her, and I ran.” Your voice was numb – the pain being something you grew used to.

Bucky nodded in understanding. “And why not go to your dad?”

You shook your head and looked down. “Last thing I want is to bring those monsters to him and everyone else,” you confessed. “It’s easier just to run.”

The soldier went quiet momentarily – thinking of what to say next. “He can’t want this kind of life for you.”

“He doesn’t,” you confirmed – giving Bucky a soft smile. “It’s what I’m used to, though…the nomadic lifestyle, I guess you could call it. That’s probably why he tricked us into finding each other.” Bucky hummed and ate another bite of fruit. “Speaking of,” you continued curiously, “why were you in that church?”

Bucky chuckled. “You’re not the only one used to the nomadic life.”

“Even though I’m running…I feel free, ya know? Like I can be anywhere I wanna be.”

“You need somewhere to call your home, though,” Bucky argued gently. “You need to have someplace where you feel safe.”

You nodded and looked around the bunker. “I feel safe here.”

“This place is a shithole,” Bucky chuckled – finishing his can of fruit.

“So, let’s make it not a shithole,” you suggested. “There’s a town called Bryansk Oblast a few miles from here…I’m sure there’s stores or something.”

You both put your empty cans in a plastic bag and put it in the corner of the room. “So what?” Bucky smiled. “Are you saying you want to make this shithole a home with me?”

“Those are your words,” you told him. “I just think that if we’re gonna be here for however long, we could make it a bit cozier.” You grabbed a notebook and pen out of your bag and started to make a list. Bucky, on the other hand, went to look around the bunker – wanting to get an idea of just how small or large it was.

“Holy shit!” he called out – causing you to jump to your feet and run towards him.

“Bucky?” your voice echoed down the hallway. At the end of it, you saw a light turn on and Bucky standing in the doorway. “What’s wrong? Is there someone in here? We cleared it out!”

He didn’t respond, instead, he just walked into the room ahead of him. “There’s a whole fucking kitchen,” he told you.

“What the fuck?” you asked in shock – hurrying to the open room. It had been dark when the two of you cleared the place out, and you were only looking for other people, so neither of you realized that there was a full kitchen. “Holy shit.” You walked over to the wall and tested the stove. “Doesn’t work,” you said in a disappointed tone.

“We can fix it,” Bucky excitedly suggested. “Maybe this can be our little home.”

Growing curiouser by the second, you decided to open the next door. There, you found a bathroom attached to a small bedroom. “Hey, look,” you called out. “There’s a separate bedroom and a bathroom.” You tested the faucet to see if it worked. “That doesn’t work.”

Bucky looked in the rooms. “Well, now you don’t have to share the bed with an old,” he reminded you.

Hearing him say that caused an ache to your heart. Did he want you to sleep separately?

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Looks like I can have my own bed.” You looked down. For once, your mask of not caring was falling, and Bucky saw the real you behind it.

“If that’s what you want, that is,” he added on quietly.

You flashed him a flat smile. “Yeah, of course,” you chuckled. “Sleeping in the same bed as an old man was definitely not fun.”

He smiled softly and shook his head at you. “Let’s make that list.”

You and Bucky spent the majority of the day getting any and all necessities for the bunker and for yourselves. While Bucky worked on fixing the refrigerator and stove, you put the cans and boxes of food away and cleaned up the surfaces.

            “So, I had my dad look into this place, and apparently it’s actually abandoned,” you informed Bucky. “SHIELD put it under a pseudonym for us.”

            Bucky smiled to himself. “So, it is like a little home.”

“You could say that,” you chuckled.

“And that’d make us…” Bucky trailed off.

“Uh, roommates?” you quickly suggested.

“Sounds like a plan,” Bucky exhaled as he put the tools down and tested the stove. “Fuck yes!” he exclaimed when the burners turned on and started to heat up. “Next is the fridge and then the water.”

You took a beer out of the 24 pack you’d bought and offered him one. He took it and opened it – tapping his bottle against yours. “Cheers,” you said before taking a sip at the same time. Taking a few minutes to rest, the two of you sat on the run-down sofa.

“Need to get some new furniture,” Bucky stated as he looked around the room.

You nodded. “I’ll send some ideas to my dad and have him send them over.” Bucky nodded and stared off in the direction of the other side of the room. He was obviously thinking. “You good?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, still staring off into the room. “Do you know if Loki is still with them?”

“Last I heard he was,” you answered. “Why?”

Bucky finally looked over at you with a quizzical look. “Think he’d put a concealment spell on this place?”

You shrugged. “We could ask,” you replied. It was honestly a great idea.

            A few hours went by, and Bucky had managed to fix the water and electricity. This meant you could get a shower for the first time in over a week. You didn’t want to leave the comfort of the warm water, but you knew you had to save some for Bucky. It was the least you could to. After all, he was the one who fixed everything up, yet he insisted you took the first shower. When you got out and changed into a brand new pair of sweatpants and a tank top, you felt cleaner than you’d ever felt. You brushed your teeth before leaving the bathroom and went to find Bucky.

            “Hey, I’m out!” you called out to the soldier. “Saved you plenty of hot water.”

Bucky walked around the corner at the same time you did, and you were surprised to see his shirt off. The look of the beautifully built man surprised you, but when he spoke, you were broken out of the trance.

            “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to bump into ya.”

Maybe I want you to “bump into” me, you thought to yourself. “It’s fine,” you chuckled nervously before heading to the kitchen. “I’m gonna make some hamburgers. Want one?”

“Sure,” he smiled. “I’d love one.”

I’d love for you to join me in the shower, too, he added in his head.

You scurried away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed the bright red blush appearing on your face and neck.

            Bucky got into the shower and relaxed as the hot water rained down on him. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall in front of him. On his mind, however, was you.

            She’s so beautiful, he thought to himself. What am I talking about? She’s Steve’s daughter!” He tried to talk himself out of not finding you attractive, but it was impossible. He couldn’t help but replay your expression when he bumped into you. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were starting to find yourself attracted to him as well. He imagined your body against his, and his hand made his way down to his hard cock.

            You were sitting in the small living area eating your hamburger. You had left all the condiments and buns out for Bucky to make his own, so when he came out of the shower, he headed towards everything. Once he put his burger together, he came over and sat next to you.

            “Pretty good, if I do say so myself,” you chuckled.

            Bucky took a bite and hummed in agreement. “Fucking delicious,” he quietly complimented. Unable to keep his thoughts to himself any longer, Bucky decided he’d try and make a move. “Bet it’s not the only delicious thing you have.”

You chuckled softly and decided to flirt back. You slightly spread your legs and watched his reaction. “Bet you’d love to find out, huh?” Bucky bit his bottom lip – trying as hard as he could to turn his thoughts into words. However, he looked over at you and smirked instead. You took his inability to speak as a sign that he was getting turned on. “Bet you’d love a taste,” you continued to tease. You moved closer and let your lips ghost just outside of his ear. “I bet you’d taste even better,” you whispered.

Bucky turned to look at you. He wanted so badly to grab you, pull you into his lap, and kiss you as hard as he could, but you read his movements, and you decided that this little game wasn’t over. You winked at him and got up from the couch – making sure to sway your hips as you took your empty plate and soda can to the kitchen to clean and throw away. What you didn’t realize, however, was the super soldier lurking behind you. Before you could turn around or even notice he was there, his hands were on your hips, and his lips were gently planting kisses on the side of your neck – his breath causing goosebumps to spread all over your body.

“I’ll give you a taste if you give me a taste, baby girl.”

[ofstarsandvibranium]

My You-niverse: Marc

Fandom: Oscar Isaac

Pairing: Oscar Isaac's Characters x F!Reader

Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.

A/N: I will not be taking tags also, lets hope I actually follow through with this...

Series Masterlist

"Why. Won't. You. Stay. Down?!" you say with every punch to your opponent. He heads falls back with a thud and a groan. You sigh in relief as you crawl off him. You point your finger at his unconscious form, "Stay."

You hear a snicker and you turn to see Marc, donning the Moon Knight regalia, approaching you, "Good job, honey."

"Guys! Uh, help!" you hear America cry out a distance away.

You both sprint in her direction. You see her dodging hits from a man twice her size.

"Why did you leave the kid fight this frickin' giant?!"

"We were going to come back to help." you reply.

"Better late than never, yeah?" Steven pops in to add and then lets Marc back in control.

Your husband swoops in right before aforementioned giant lands a punch to America. The hit lands to Marc's chest, knocking him back to America, who flies into you behind her.

A portal suddenly opens up and the two of you fall back in.

You both land on the ground with a thud and watch as the star portal closes.

America groans, "Not again!"

She scurries up and tries to summon another portal. She continues to punch the air again and again and...nothing.

"Crap!"

You hesitantly rise to your feet, "That...doesn't sound good."

Her shoulders slouch, "It's not."

"I still haven't completely mastered the whole portal summoning thing."

You sigh in defeat, "Well, not what?"

"We can find this universe's me or Doctor Strange and see if they can help?"

"Sure. Let's do that." the two of you then take in your surroundings and, "Wait...where the hell are we?"

_________________

The giant man's body goes limp, falling back on a metal beam, impaling himself to death.

Marc, panting, looks around for you and America, "Honey?" he calls out, "Y/N? ...America? Guys?!" he removes his hood and mask, running his hand through his curls in distress, "Shit!"

Steven suddenly fronts, "Whe-Where is she? Where are they? What the hell happened?!"

"I don't know, Steven. One minute they were there and the next they were gone."

"Should we go to Doctor Strange? America's like his protege, yeah?"

"We have no choice. Shit, he's gonna be pissed."

_____________

"I TOLD YOU TO WATCH HER!" Stephen Strange hollered at Marc.

"We did! And she was fine until the giant douche tried to land one on her and I stepped in and then her and Y/N were gone!"

Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose, "Dammit." he begins to pace back and forth, "They could be in any universe right now. Guess I'll have to jump to each one and hope I find them."

Marc steps forward, "I'm coming too."

Stephen points a stern finger at him, "No. You've already done enough."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do while you look for them?" Marc asks as Stephen begins to ascend the stairs in the Sanctum.

Stephen's reply echoes, "Try not to fuck anything up further."