#feel free to send something more scenario ish

[tag-if]

Thank you for answering that last ask. You are the best and even with the vague answers I still am learning to love all the ROs and I know it's gonna be hella difficult to choose tho honestly leaning towards the physician and maybe the guard. Lord knows I torture myself enough in other IFs with angsty ROs. 🤦🏻‍♀️

So between my insomnia breaks and bottle feeds (i am a new mommy why i read so much to not lose my mind) scrolling tumblr apparently this is a classic RO ask.. I didn't know that till 4 minutes ago..

But what do the ROs each want to hear, need to hear and would hate to hear.

Again if it isn't too spoilery. I know this ask kinda gets very deep character wise. 😇

i'm so glad A.C (air conditioning? lol) is getting some love, they are one of my favourites to write >w<

aww, congrats on the baby! i'm honoured you're spending some of your (probably scarce) free-time interacting with me :D!

now, for your angst, i am going to give you a non-answer for all of them i'm afraid (you are very right about the spoilers, i think Marin is the only would that would be safe lol)

[restinslices]

.

Can I request a scenario where the lin kuei brothers, after rescuing the reader from an enemy who was torturing the reader, react to the hijacked!reader(idk, if you read/watched the hunger games especially mockingjay, if you didn't then hijacking in hunger games is a form brainwashing involving the venom of tracker-jackers(mutated wasps whose venom can cause hallucinations and can painfully kill a person) to alter the memories of a person in a negative manner), who reacts violently towards them and bring afraid of them, calling them a monster and verbally berating them.

I haven’t seen those movies in years but I watched some videos and looked at the wiki so I hope I got it right! I also added a Drabble for everyone as a “my bad” cause I took so long.

Also it is 5:09pm. The danger time (look at previous post. Weather shit) is until 7pm. I’m hoping we stay fine but bitch it’s raining and I hear thunder and saw lightning. Send help😭

Bitch I’m proof reading and my lights flickered-

Anger is much easier and better to feel than sadness or grief, so he forces himself to feel that instead 

The second he realizes that you've been taken by enemies, he's in a rage 

He's visibly more angry and harsh towards everyone 

He hardly sleeps or lets himself relax because that means he's not looking for you 

Someone could take a break to sit and he's asking why they aren't doing anything to help 

Once you're found he's relieved and wants to see you immediately 

All that stress slips from his shoulders when he sees that you're alive and safe 

That stress is immediately dumped back on his shoulders when instead of pulling him into a hug, you run at him and wrap your hands around his throat 

As you can imagine, he has no problem pushing you off, but he's thrown so off guard because why would he ever expect you to attack him?

You don't come to your senses and his confusion rises when you attack him again by jumping on him and trying to strangle him again 

If you weren't trying to murder him, he'd be impressed with how you hang on despite how many times he's hit you 

Having to knock you out takes a lot out of him mentally. I mean, come on y'all. You were missing for so long and instead of hugging and loving each other when you finally saw each other, you attacked him like a wild animal and he actually had to defend himself 

When he's told what Hijacking is, all that anger comes back 

Some sick fuck took you from him, tortured you in various ways and managed to change your memories to something negative. How could he not be angry? They destroyed you with such precision. It was sick. 

Bi-Han is advised not to see you again. Anyone could guess that he wouldn't listen 

He had hope that maybe you just needed rest, but that didn't seem to work 

You forgot you were strapped down and tried to run at him again. You fussed with your straps in an attempt to get free and yelled in frustration 

Bi-Han doesn't know what to say. In an attempt to comfort you, he says “we'll fix you”

“There's always something wrong with me, isn't there?” You sneered with resentment. 

He kept talking to you and it seemed like no memory was left safe. Every single memory was tainted. The image of him was tainted. Why? Why did this have to happen to someone as kind as you? Why not to him? Or, as dick head-ish it sounded, a random Lin Kuei member?

All his efforts go to finding a way to reverse it. And I can see him being angry at Liu Kang because he can't reverse it. It fuels a resentment he already holds for him

“Grandmaster, I have been instructed to not let you in this room” a Lin Kuei member said in his best stern voice. Bi-Han didn't have time for this. He had just been informed that somehow Liu Kang couldn't save you, which made absolutely no sense to him. Liu Kang, this powerful god that created the universe itself couldn't fix this one person in the universe? Someone who deserved to be saved the most out of everyone?

“Your Grandmaster didn't give you this order, did I?”. The Lin Kuei swallowed hard and tried to stammer something out, but Bi-Han pushed him out the way and went inside the formally blocked room. 

You looked over at him, still with hate in your eyes. Your brows were low, your mouth in a deep frown, your arms and legs strapped to the bed. Your face was less bruised than it was when you first arrived, so he guessed he was thankful for that. 

“You look like shit” you said. 

“I've been worried about you” he answered honestly.

“Bullshit. You lie. You always lie”

“Who told you that?” he stepped closer to you although he knew he shouldn't. “Our enemies made you think this. They lied to you. They tortured you because they knew it'd hurt me. Because I love you”. He wasn't sure he's loved anyone as much as he loves you. But you wouldn't believe him. You kept saying he was lying and you had no idea how much it killed him to see you, but not have you. 

You stared at him blankly while thinking. You smirked at him and motioned for him to come even closer. He didn't though. The various wounds he had kept him from keeping hope of you changing. 

“Do you think your father let out a sigh of relief when he realized he was dying and getting away from you? Your mother as well? Being around you is the worst torture imaginable and I can't wait until I'm set free too”. 

Kuai Liang vows that he'll find and bring you back home no matter what 

He's also uneasy and on edge the entire time 

No stone is left unturned. He's checking every possible area and is suspicious of everyone 

He knows you'll have some sort of trauma, so when you're found, he tries to give you space 

Just enough time for doctors to look you over 

When he visits you the last thing he expects is for you to do is scream and try to get away from him 

He tries to get closer to you and comfort you but you keep screaming and accusing him of trying to hurt you 

He's confused. He would never do such a thing to you. He hardly even play fought with you because he was so worried about him accidentally hurting you 

You keep clinging to the doctors and yelling at him to stay away 

He just doesn't understand how something like this can happen. He keeps trying to comfort you but you're terrified of him

He has to be dragged out because he doesn't wanna leave at all 

When he's told what's happened to you he's confused how this is even possible and he wonders if he can ever get you back 

It's not necessarily just “I want my partner back”. It's also “they didn't deserve to have their light taken away”

You stay terrified of him so he tries to stay away from you 

He checks in when you're sleep and he peeks at you when you're not paying attention 

A two way mirror is a way to watch you as well 

Honestly he'd rather have you angry at him than afraid of him

You look so broken and shaken and it's killing him 

The same way he vowed to find you is the same way he vows to save you 

Meanwhile he has other people talk to you for him. He's trying to see if maybe someone else can make you realize that he's not some monster that you've been brainwashed to believe 

It doesn't seem to work, but he keeps trying. He refuses to give up on you. 

Kuai Liang was warned that this could possibly be a bad idea, but he didn't care. What was he supposed to do? Not try? Just let you sit and rot? No. Maybe he didn't have any magical abilities that could cure you, but he could still try. 

He watched through the 2 way mirror as Tomas approached you. You were a lot nicer to him and more comfortable around him. As bad as it sounded, it made him feel awful that Tomas was your comfort instead of him. 

Tomas tried to ease you into a conversation about Kuai Liang and he watched you tense and sit up. Did you think he was going to rush in and attack you? No. There had to be some parts of you still in there. 

“Kuai Liang isn't a bad person. You've been lied to-”

“He killed your family”. 

Tomas cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Kuai Liang was too young to-”

“They’re all killers!” You snapped. “They'll kill me! He'll kill me! Did he send you in here to weaken me?!” You looked around the room in fear and Kuai Liang stupidly ran in there to comfort you as a reflex.. He realized his mistake when he caught your eye and you fell out of your bed trying to get away. 

“HE'S HERE!” You screeched like a banshee and crawled to the farthest wall. “HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!”. Tomas gripped Kuai Liang’s shoulders and pushed him away. He knew he shouldn't have been in there, but a part of him still fought back against the younger man. 

“GET AWAY! GET AWAY FAST! HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE! HE'LL HURT ME!” You kept screaming and clawed at your face. 

Tomas closed the door in Kuai Liang’s face with a remorseful look. The man stayed there and listened to you scream and destroy things around you. He didn't move or cover his ears. He deserved to listen. It was his punishment for not finding you in time. 

This is gonna sound bad, but when you go missing, he already assumes you're dead 

Hope for the best but prepare for the worst type shit 

He's no stranger to death and obviously he doesn't WANT you to be dead, but he prepares himself for if that's the case 

Don't think he's not searching tho. He’s always looking for you. He's not even eating 

When they find you he's so relieved 

He has the doctors tell him how you are because as much as he wants to see you, he knows he gotta let them do their job 

He feels so bad because all the reports he's getting are terrible. Each bruise he's told about shatters him 

He brings flowers when he's finally allowed to visit you 

When you attack him he's thrown completely off guard 

He doesn't even really defend himself at first because he's never had to defend himself from you 

At first he thinks you're angry with him because he failed to protect you. When he's told what really happened, he wished it was the first one instead 

He blames himself for not protecting you, so he'd understand that 

You being tortured and your memories being toyed with? It was terrible. He'd say he wished the tables were turned and he was tortured, but he'd never want you to feel how he feels 

He keeps trying to communicate with you but you keep screaming and trying to kill him 

Honestly he'd deal with all of that without any complaints. He just keeps being told it's not a good idea and not good for your recovery 

The insults, the foul language, the physical attacks, none of it hurts as much as the knowledge that there's a possibility he won't get you back 

He has gifts sent to you but never says it's from him 

He has old pictures sent to you too hoping that it'll spark something 

He'll keep trying to save you even if it kills him 

Tomas’ heart thumped hard and rapidly in his chest as he walked to your room, bouquet in hand. He knew flowers wouldn't solve whatever happened to you, but he hoped it'd cheer you up somewhat. He had finally been allowed to visit you after what felt like forever and while he wasn't happy to see how bad you looked, he was happy to see you alive. 

He pushed the door open and your frame came into view. Bandages covered the bruises on your face and body, but thankfully you had showered since you arrived. He hoped feeling clean gave you a sense of relief or peace. He just hoped you felt better. 

You saw Tomas and your brows furrowed- no. That couldn't be. You wouldn't look at him like… nah. 

“Tomas?” You said. 

“It's me”. He turned to set the flowers down and immediately heard people yelling your name. He turned, scared he'd see you having some sort of medical complication. What he didn't expect was to feel you shove him against the wall then onto the ground. 

“MUTT! POISONOUS MUTT!”. He screamed as he felt something pierce his shoulder. It was a scissor. He hadn't even seen you grab it. How were you that fast and why were you doing this?

“Stop!” he shouted. You stared at him with loathing and hatred, which was something he couldn't wrap his head around. He winced when you pulled the scissor out. 

He blocked you from stabbing him in the chest. You looked angered and pushed on your hand to try and stab him. “What's wrong with you?” he whispered, his eyes wide in fright. 

The scissor was ripped from your hand and you were pulled off him by multiple doctors and others who heard the commotion. He got to his feet and watched as you kept trying to break free from their grip. 

“MUTT! POISONOUS MUTT!” You repeated. “HE KILLED HIS FAMILY! HE'LL LEAD US TO OUR DEMISE! POISON! TOXIC!I HAVE TO KILL HIM!” You screeched and kept struggling. He held his bloodied shoulder in disbelief. 

What had happened to you?

Once again, apologies it took so long. My writing break was timed POORLY

[seradae]

I block ageless blogs on sight. No warnings. "18+" is not enough.

(Putting it at the top so hopefully more people see it 😾)

About me:

I'm 36 years old

I'm someone's mommy but not yours

I write erotica for the gays and theys

95% domme, 5% sub, 100% top

My DMs are open for chatting, but if you make things sexual or RP-y without enthusiastic consent, I will block instantly

I'm married to @sleepydelights and poly but not looking

If you DM me, include "ghost" in your first message or I'll likely ignore it

If you're a minor: do not follow me, do not like my posts, do not pass go, do not collect $200. I will block you and tell your goddamn mom.

DNI: minors, TERFs/transphobes, racists, fascists, detrans fetishists, sissies, zoophiles (sigh, I hate that this even needs to be said. IF YOU FUCK SOMETHING OR SOMEONE THAT CANNOT OR DOES NOT CONSENT, IT IS RAPE AND IT IS WRONG), anti-SW or "don't pay for content"

I block ageless blogs on sight. No warnings. "18+" is not enough.

Feel free to send me asks! Requesting stories is encouraged. Requests with the most detail (specific kinks, genders, scenarios, etc) always get priority

Please check my list of kinks and limits!

If a story of mine helps you cum, I will always appreciate hearing that 👉👈 (you don't need to share details, I just have a praise kink and want to do good)

All of my stories:

I wrote a book about lesbians in space!

Strapped In [TF/NB] [bondage]

Relaxation [TF] [drugs] [breeding] [mdlg] [somno]

Soft Touches [FF] [soft] [mdlg]

Remote Touch [F/NB] [long distance] [somno]

Hide And Seek [FF] [TF] [primal] [breeding] [puppy play]

"You Can't Beat Me" Always Works [FF] [breeding] [CNC] [She-Ra/Catra]

Attitude Adjustment [FF] [brat taming] [edging] [overstim]

Wait For It [omorashi] [watersports] [FF] [TF]

The Club [MF] [slavery] [ddlg] [kidnapping] [human auction] [rape]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Bunnie Tales [MF] [kidnapping] [NONCONSENSUAL!] [ddlg] Part 1 Part 2

Blanket Fort [DDLG] [somno] [CNC] [breeding]

Shopping Date [FF] [CNC] [breeding] [MDLG]

I Told You What Would Happen [FF] [TF] [public] [breeding]

Control [MF] [breeding] [bondage] [total power exchange]

Guided masturbation for femmes

Breakfast In Bed [FF] [somno]

Role Reversal [F TF] [somnophilia] [bondage] [breeding]

Slumber [TF/NB] [somno] [breeding]

Risky [FF] [TF] [breeding]

Roulette [FM] [TF] [TM/NB] [breeding] [CNC-ish]

Entry [FF] [TF] [intox] [breeding] [somno]

Take Your Medicine [FF] [TF] [mdlg] [breeding] [somno] [intox] [manipulation]

Comfort [MF] [ddlg] [soft romance] [loving]

A New Life, Part 1 [NB/TF] [kidnapping]

A New Life, Part 2 [NB/TF] [kidnapping] [medical fetish]

A New Life, Part 3 [NB/TF] [kidnapping] [bondage] [medical fetish] [overstim] [breeding]

Shell Time [bondage] [puppyplay] [D/s] [non-sexual]

Entwined Hearts [TF/NB/NB] [medical fetish] [overstimulation] [bondage]

Prescription [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [D/s] [non-sexual]

A Day At The Park [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [breeding]

Ice To See You [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [piss] [ice] [sensation play] [bondage]

Housebreaking [FM] [femdom] [omo] [piss] [puppyplay]

Virtue: Patients [FF] [bondage] [medical fetish]

Sleepy Little Princess [FF] [TF] [mdlg] [breeding] [somno] [intox]

Keys to the Castle [FF] [TF] [kidnapping] [bondage] [intox] [somno] [breeding]

Sleepy Cuttles [FF] [TF] [soft] [mdlg] [intox] [breeding] [somno]

Sleep Study [FF] [TF] [MDLG] [intox] [medfet] [somno] [breeding] [sensory deprivation]

Need [FF] [TF] [mdlg] [breeding]

A Room With A View (Part 1) [FF] [TF] [petplay] [bunnyplay] [breeding] [mdlg]

Tethered To You (FINISHED) [F/NB/TF] [bondage] [space lesbians] [lesbian breeding] [overstim]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Trust [FF] [vampirism] [blood]

My Queen [FF] [monsterfucking] [naga] [alcohol mention]

Werewolf Bait [FF] [TF] [monsterfucking] [breeding]

In My Arms [two people (gender is dead)] [tentacles] [puppyplay]

Breaking Dawn [TF/TF] [edging] [breeding]

Goo Listener [NB/unknowable? F?] [goo] [breeding??] [monsterfucking] [alcohol mention]

Distraction [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [breeding]

Eggcelent [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [breeding] [bondage] [goo] [sensation play]

Patch Tuesday [TF/agender] [robotics] [hacking] [sex mention but no sex]

Moving On [F/TM] [romance] [D/s] [breeding] [The Spire]

Stress Relief [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [impact play] [D/s] [mild degradation]

Jump Around [F/NB] [SFW] [cute date] [The Spire]

Transplant [TF/agender] [TF/TF?] [robotics] [trans feels] [robofucking] [The Spire]

Taken Puppy [TF/NB] [CNC] [!!ROUGH!!] [puppyplay] [negotiation and aftercare] [breeding]

New Toys [TF/TF] [robofucking] [tentacles] [soft domination] [The Spire]

Birth of the Unintended [sci-fi] [AI] [technological body horror?]

Umbilical [FF] [sci-fi] [Spire universe] [SFW] [thriller]

Needs [FF] [breeding] [My Dragon Girlfriend] [Callie/Olive] [witch/vampire]

The Drift [sci-fi] [SFW]

You Said You Missed Vines [TF/NB] [breeding] [sensory deprivation] [werewolves] [virtual reality] [monster fucking] [primal]

You May Feel Some Pressure [TF/NB] [breeding] [technophilia] [total power exchange] [medical fetish]

I Heart You [TF/NB] [blood] [primal] [knife]

Fallen Angel [F/agender] [angel torture] [extreme sadism] [immortal] [knives] [blood]

Hour of the Hunt [NB/NB] [cult] [ritual] [breeding] [cryptid] [cryptid impreg] [primal]

Lunar Patrol [NB/TF] [werewolf] [breeding] [bondage]

Not Teasing, Preparation [TF/NB] [true story] [somno] [breeding] [overstim]

Witch Way [TF/NB] [werewolf/witch] [breeding] [(C)NC?] [primal]

Dream Of Me [TF/NB] [somno] [intox] [LDR?] [medfet]

Good Girl [NB/TF] [intox] [teasing] [breeding] [D/s] [slapping]

Triangle Challenge [TF/NB/F] [edging] [overstim] [bondage] [polyamory] [breeding] [cucking?]

Restraint [F/NB/TF] [SFW] [poly romance] [soft] [drug mention]

Pacing [TF/NB]

Robopup [TF/NB/more] [group] [robot? mecha?] [puppyplay] [breeding] [free use]

Hostile Takeover

Chapter 1

Virtually Mine [F/NB] [technophilia] [VR] [hypno] [bondage?] [sensory deprivation]

Toymaker [NB/TF] [breeding] [anonymity] [hypno]

The Summoning [no genders] [demon teasing]

The Mask [TF/NB] [puppyplay] [intox] [breeding] [breathplay/oxygen deprivation]

[another-lost-mc]

hello my dear jes!! ive been lurking every now and then, i love your ocs sm 🥹🫶🏽 so sorry if this has been answered or is a silly question but would it be okay if we draw/commission art of our mcs with your ocs?? sorry if this is a weird question, thank you in advance! with love, anon!

Thank you so much for taking the time to stop by, I'm glad you enjoy the OCs! 💖

It's not a silly question at all! I've had some questions about it recently and it's so considerate of you to ask. 🤗

Fan art with your MC or OC is completely fine! A link back to the blog as a form of credit/acknowledgement would be appreciated.

Suggestive or NSFW-ish art (couple/poly or selfships) is okay as long as it’s not full nudity/explicit R18 material.

I have reference sheets for most of the OCs (and written descriptions of the demon/angel forms) so feel free to ask for those if that info would be useful.

Please tag me if you post the artwork publicly or send me a DM if you’re comfortable sharing it! I have my own blog tag #jes.favs for any fan art/fan writing featuring the OCs.

If you have your own MC or OC lore/canon AU story and would like some ideas about how the OCs might meet and interact with your character, you're welcome to send an ask or DM about that too. I answer a lot of hypothetical scenarios for specific MCs/OCs and selfship stories on the downlow for members of the fanclubs already. I don't mind offering some personalized insight or providing more info than what I've publicly shared, in case there's something you're curious about that I haven't discussed/answered before.

I hope this helps!

[nebulousbrainsoup]

‼️ nebulousbrainsoup's 150(ish) follower event is now closed ‼️

This doesn't feel real. I'm so grateful and stunned that so many people enjoy my silly little thoughts enough to follow and hope for more. So, as a little treat for all of us and some inspiration/practice for me, here's this!

THE EVENT:

Send an ask with either a prompt (or two or three) from one of the lists below or a prompt you've come up with yourself (see my request guidelines) and a member (or more) of ATEEZ or Stray Kids, and I'll write something for you!

THE RULES & REGS:

Please remember that my blog is 18+. Requests from minors will result in a block.

You don't need to be following me to participate, but requests from followers will be prioritized.

Anonymous requests are allowed!

Any and all smut prompts must be sent off anon so I can verify your age.

For smut prompts, feel free to specify dom/sub reader or member, as well as reader gender!

Unless otherwise specified, reader will be gender neutral (with female anatomy for smut).

If the prompt doesn't specify a genre, you come up with your prompt yourself, or you want a headcanon/scenario, please provide a genre!

Please try to refer to the prompt lists as what I have them tagged as here!

THE LISTS:

fluff & angst dialogue smut dialogue headcanons/scenarios

I'll hopefully start writing Saturday or Sunday! No limit on the number of requests, but I'll update this post when things close down. Thank you all so much again. Ash being sappy under the cut :)

holy shit, you guys. i've been on tumblr for a decade, lurking, too scared to post my works. and the second i got the guts, you've overwhelmed me with love. i'm stunned that 180+ followers, over 250 reblogs, and over 1k likes are stats i have achieved. i don't care if every work i create after this point flops, i've enjoyed even just this little stint so much. the ideas i've come up with, the interactions and feedback, the friends i've made, all of it is more than i ever expected or thought possible. thank you, a million times, thank you all. love, ash <3

[vampromantic]

Pinned. August 2024.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I CHECK AGES.

nico | 21 | it/he

trans nonbinary, queer, polyam, vers, switch, posts will reflect this.

DNI: minors, any kind of bigot (terfs, swerfs, racists, zionists, transphobes, fatphobes etc.)

This is a sideblog, I won't like/reblog a lot from main. I'll consider us mutuals if we interact on a frequent enough basis, we're all besties here.

EXTRA INFO

(tags, triggers, misc.)

the rating of nsft vs nsft ish is based on my own interpretation of the post and can vary.

most kinks are untagged, but my recurring tags are:

🐾.txt : pet play (puppy edition)

🐰.txt : pet play (bunny edition)

💤.txt : somnophilia / sleepy nsft

👑.txt : regency play

💭.txt : reblogs where I add personal tags

🐺⛓️: rougher persona (often involves more violent/dubious content if you want to avoid that)

pretty boy: softer persona

misc tags not in featured tags:

fav / polyam content / t4t content / public / skirts / yearning hours / mythical nsft / autistic nsft / nsft funny / texts

photos / videos / gifset / art

(this isn’t all of them, but I wanted these listed somewhere.)

if anyone wants a trigger tag added feel free to dm or send something to my inbox.

current trigger tags:

tw consent issues / tw physical injury

tw guns / tw knives / tw drug use

tw slur use / tw religious mention

the consent issues tag does not mean the scenarios are non-consensual, only that consent may appear blurry to some people (eg posts about/implying cnc or intoxication). consent is always mandatory - if you think that isn’t the case, Fuck Off.

in terms of the slur use tag, I completely support slur reclaimation, I’m literally a faggy tranny dyke who has faggy tranny dyke sex. but I will not expose people who don’t want to see slurs to those slurs without an option to avoid them. we can have our pride and our freedom using those words while also acknowledging that people in our community have trauma related to them and don’t want to see them used in this context.

this blog used to operate using a queue set to post throughout the day, now I’ll reblog something immediately, but when the queue is used again #not queued will indicate any posts reblogged outside of it.

tags are added manually after a post goes up.

If you know me irl and find this blog, I don't really care but I'd prefer if you let me know.

anyway! have fun - be safe - enjoy your stay

[rowanberryprinxe]

intro post

greetings

i thought i’d rewrite my previous introduction post since it felt a bit unnatural; i would also like to clarify certain things as this blog has been getting attention lately.

so:

the name’s Rowan or Ale, he/they, masculine terms only (!)

i will be posting 18+ content here, minors GET OUT NOW. this has been your final warning, i will block you if you don’t have your age CLEARLY displayed in your bio.

i’ve created this blog mainly to post nsft royalty/regency content, but i can and will occasionally post other things relating to religion (i am religious, christian, to be precise), my queerness (especially concerning transing the gender, nonning the binary and and queering the platonic). my studies (i am a philology student) and whatnot. however, i must repeat once again: this is, for the most part, a kink blog, please leave if you are uncomfortable with it.

unfortunately, most nsft royalty-related posts on tumblr make me quite uncomfortable, so i decided it’s high time i take it upon myself to create content that i myself could properly enjoy — i would be glad to share it with anyone who happens to enjoy it as well.

i enjoy writing from a soft dom perspective, i might someday post something more switch-like, but PLEASE do not put me into a position that would make me sub. as much as i adore subs in general and prince subs specifically, it’s simply not what i am into and i am severely uncomfortable with such scenarios. thank you

you may call me: prince, lord, your highness. i am (usually) t4t, mostly into femme-ish people, but i would never turn down a servant who knows how to ask politely and properly address their superior. <3

i am into: honourifics, degradation and praise, (light) choking, (light) bondage, body worship, dirty talk (specifically the more sophisticated kind that goes beyond ‘good _____’ — though it’s not like i won’t call you that from time to time if you prove yourself to be worthy).

my HARD LIMITS: scat, vore, ddlg, MISGENDERING, literally any and all mentions of afab anatomy, cnc, violence (causing actual injury)

feel free to send asks and dms, lovelies. behave and be proper and i will make sure to reply.

welcome to the realm <3

[nikinikinikinikiiii]

❁blog info and masterlists❁

╰┈➤ hello !! my name is yuyurin, or yuyu for short, and welcome to my blog ! this account has been around for a while now so i decided to turn it into something and start writing ! (note: this blog contains 18+ content, so minors and nameless/ageless blogs, please dni, or i will have to block you :333)

✎ im 20 years old and i go by any pronouns, and i can write for both male, female, and gender neutral reader, just to be fair to everyone.

✎ im also autistic so please keep that in mind !

✎ im comfortable with writing almost anything, so feel free to request(if requests are open) whatever topic you want, though i might say no if its a bit too much for me !  (another note: i will only write sfw for ni-ki for the meantime!)

✎  i can write one-shots, scenarios/imagines, series, and hard/soft thoughts !

✎ i dont have a specific schedule for uploads, so i only post whenever i finish writing something

✎ i wont be opening requests too often because im lazy♨︎_♨︎

✎ updates will be slow-ish, so please bear with me, i get distracted easily :[

✎ if you have any questions, feel free to send an ask or a private message !

Masterlists:

Enhypen

.・。.・゜✭・come back later・✫・゜・。.

Stray Kids

.・。.・゜✭・come back later・✫・゜・。.

Genshin Impact

.・。.・゜✭・come back later・✫・゜・。.

Tears of Themis

.・。.・゜✭・come back later・✫・゜・。.

Ensemble Stars

.・。.・゜✭・come back later・✫・゜・。.

Honkai Star Rail

.・。.・゜✭・come back later・✫・゜・。.

(will possibly add more in the future !)

[titanicsimp]

Could I get a scenario modern day au where eren is on the phone and he makes his S/O ride him while hes on the phone

Yes you can, Thank you for sending in a request!!♥️

Eren Yeager x fem!reader - Having you ride him while he’s on the phone

cw: Vaginal sex, sex while on the phone, light choking, brief blowjob-ish

a/n: not me struggling to write this because I’m beefing with a dude called Eren irl 👹

“You’re kidding me?! The one time I don’t go I miss all this?”

Eren chats and laughs loudly, his phone pressed against his ear. He’s sitting next to you on the couch, his free arm resting leisurely over the back of the couch, his fingers teasing your neck and his nails scraping past the sensitive skin now and then.

Why did Armin have to call right now? Just a few minutes ago Eren’s lips had been on yours and his hand up your shirt, grinding the bulge in his pants against your panties eagerly. You had been so ready to have him shove his cock into your wetness, but then his phone rang. When he got off of you to pick up the phone, you had expected it to be a short call, but you were unfortunately wrong. Jean had gotten shit faced the night before and Eren wanted to hear all about it from Armin, leaving you pouting next to him on the couch.

You tug at the end of your skirt impatiently as Eren continues calling next to you. Your core still throbs with need, it’s not fair that he got you all fired up to just leave you like this.

His hand grabs your chin, making you look at him. ‘Come here’ he mouths, flashing you a grin. You raise your eyebrows in confusion, but do so nonetheless, his hand sliding over your arm and guiding you onto his lap.

You can hear Armin still talking on the other end of the call, a second voice joining in now and then in the background which you are guessing is Connie. Resting your hands on his shoulders, you cock your head to the side, questioning him silently about what he wants.

“Please tell me you took pictures.” Eren tells Armin while his hand slides up your stomach, your breath hitching when he reaches your chest.

He gropes at your breasts eagerly through your top, the lustful intention behind his request now showing in his eyes.

Seems like Armin is searching for pictures as Eren quickly mutes himself. His gaze locks onto yours and he smirks. “I want you to ride me.”

Your eyes widen, this is new.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that impatient look on your face. Come on, baby.” He tells you, his hand only leaving your breasts so he can push your shirt up. He groans at the sight of your lacy bra, the swell of your breasts looking incredibly tempting. “Ride my fucking cock.”

You nod your head and grind yourself against his crotch, feeling how hard he already is. Guess you weren’t the only one still worked up despite the interruption. Armin’s voice returns and Eren unmutes himself. He presses a finger to his mouth, warning you to be silent.

It’s odd to hear him talking so casually while you unzip his pants, the emotions on his face flashing past fast as he focuses on both you and the conversation.

“Why did you let him take pictures? He’s a shit photographer when he’s sober, nevermind drunk.”

He breathes in sharply when you stroke his length through his boxers, a sly smile showing on your face. You grip onto his clothed cock, stroking it till you feel him throbbing through the material.

You wet your lips when you free him from his boxers, precum dripping from the tip of his cock already. You want to taste him.

As soon as you move down slightly, Eren grabs your chin, raising your face back up. ‘Focus’ he mouths at you cockily. You pout in disappoint, but follow his direction regardless. Grabbing onto his hard cock, you position yourself over him, allowing your slick to drip down onto him when you move your underwear to the side. His hand finds your hip and his fingers dig in harshly as he braces himself.

Teasing him is a tempting thought. He seems to catch the look of mischief on your face, pushing you down onto the head of his cock easily with the single hand on your hip. You bite your lip as you let him sink you down fully onto his length.

This is what you wanted and you wish you could sigh at the relief of having him stuff your throbbing cunt. His jaw tightens as he tries to hold his own sounds back, his lips parted and letting out heavy breaths.

“What? Nah I just caught a cold, can’t breath well through my nose.” Eren says into the phone, Armin apparently having questioned him on his breathing.

You giggle softly before you start moving your hips, slowly dragging his cock along your walls. He feels so good, stretching you out so perfectly.

He lets his head hang back, eyes squeezing shut as you ride him. He’s has to fight the urge to pick you up and fuck you into the couch, knowing that much faster than you are going right now will be noticeable, your cunt already making enough wet noises like this.

You aren’t focusing on the conversation anymore in even the slightest. All you need to hear is his strained breathing and the slap of your body against his. You want to go faster, take him into you deeper, but Eren’s hand squeezes in warning whenever you change your pace.

Looking at him with his head thrown back, neck all exposed, you can’t help the urge to touch him more. You lean forward, placing your hands on his chest as your lips find the exposed skin of his neck.

“Shit.” He mumbles, letting it slip.

You know you should probably slow down as he quickly whips up an excuse for Armin, but you won’t. He wanted you to ride him and you won’t be stopped by this phonecall again.

When you lick and suck at a sensitive spot on his neck, his hand suddenly finds your hair. He pulls your head back by it roughly, away from his neck and making you face him, a moan slipping past your lips as he keeps the hold on your hair. His cheeks are flushed a deep red and his eyebrows are knit together, the strain he’s putting on himself apparent. He thrusts up into you hard, breaking your pacing and causing you to clench around him wildly. Your nails dig into his t-shirt, gripping the fabric as he continues to fuck up into your heat.

The mischievous look in Eren’s eyes sends a shiver down your body. He’s caring less and less about being heard. He doesn’t even notice that Armin has gone quiet on the other side, so focused on the way you suck him in.

Sorry Armin. The embarrassment of it is present, but only as a little whisper in the back of your mind. Your main priority right now is slamming back against Eren’s thrusts till your eyes are crossed from cumming.

“I need to help y/n with something, hold on.” Eren announces to his friend before quickly putting his phone down further away on the couch.

He grins as his hands move under your skirt and to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh and making it jiggle in his hands with every collision of your bodies. “He’s going to hear your messy pussy like this, baby.” Eren croaks out, leaning closer so he can say it softly.

You shake your head. “H-he won’t.”

“Hhmm, are you sure?”

Your body shakes with pleasure and you feel the coil in your abdomen starting to build.

One of his hands leaves your ass to grab onto your neck, holding his big hand around it loosely. “Are you sure he can’t hear, or do you just not care?”

All you can do is shake your head again, your eye crossing moment coming so close that you don’t want to slow down. His hand lightly squeezing your neck only makes more of your slick drip down his cock and you can feel his heavy breath on your neck now, his face so close to you. “You just don’t care huh. You don’t care as long as I keep on pounding your little hole.”

He kisses your jaw as his grip on your ass tightens, his fingers painfully scratching through your panties. “Tell me that you don’t care, or you won’t get to cum.”

A surge of ecstasy and desperation flows through you, your lips quivering. “I don’t care. God, Eren, I don’t care, please just keep fucking me.” You whisper out fast, scared that if you part your lips for more than a few seconds moans will start pouring out.

His chuckle resonates against your skin before he moves away from it. You bite your lip harshly when Eren stares down at you, his intense gaze going straight to your core. He catches you off guard by moving his hand from your neck to over your mouth, the other leaving your ass and seeking out your clit instead. Your eyes widen as your walls spasm around his length when he starts rubbing your clit. “Cum and show me how desperate you were for my cock.” He whispers.

You whimper against his hand, moving your hips becoming increasingly harder, but Eren is more than happy to pick up the slack. His fingers send sparks through you at every circle they draw over your sensitive nub. His hand becomes more of a blessing with each second that passes, keeping your noises repressed becoming nearly impossible.

Beads of sweat form on his forehead, and you can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek in an effort to hold back. His cock starts twitching as he rocks himself up against you, his end quickly approaching. Shit, it had been hard to pry his hands off of you when he got the call, but after he kept on seeing your impatient, lustful face from the corner of his eye, he couldn’t wait any longer. As he watches you bounce on his cock, your eyes watery and rolling to the back of your head, he knows he made the right decision. Even Armin couldn’t blame him for being tempted by a sight like you.

You mewl his name out against his hand, ass smacking down against his thighs repeatedly at a desperate pace. So close, so close you can feel your legs quiver from your impending orgasm already.

Eren pinches your clit, catching you by surprise and violently pushing you over the edge. His hand cups your mouth more intently as whines slip past your lips and your cunt spasms around his cock. He curses under his breath, continuing to thrust into you even after you fall slack against him, little shocks rocking your body. Having the walls of your heat milk him so tightly makes sure that his orgasm isn’t far behind yours.

Hot spurts of cum fill your insides after a last shallow thrust, Eren having purposely pulled his cock out almost completely so cum instantly starts running out of your cunt. Your thighs and his pants become stained even as he’s still pumping you full.

When he pulls out with a sigh, he quickly snaps your panties back in place, covering your heat back up. Within seconds you can feel your panties becoming soaked with his cum, your hole still heavily spilling from how much he filled you up.

Eren’s hand slowly leaves your mouth before he pushes your weak form away from his chest. “Come on, baby, get off. Armin’s waiting.” He whispers cruelly in your ear. Heat immediately rises to your cheeks as your fucked out mind registers that he’s still on the phone.

You force yourself off of his lap on wobbly legs while he looks at you with smug satisfaction. Before you can get away from him, he pushes you down on your knees by your shoulders, your legs easily giving out. You raise your eyebrows at him, but he simply picks up his phone from the couch. “Hey, I’m back. Y/n needed some help moving boxes.”

You bite back a yelp as he forces your face against his cock, his free hand holding the back of your head. With a half glare, you part your lips and start cleaning him off. Your combined juices feel tingly on your tongue as you lick up and down his length.

“Y/n? Yeah, she’s doing great.” Eren looks down at you cockily as you lap at his half hard length. “I’ll have her say hi.”

Your eyes widen at him, your tongue falling still. “No she’s fine with it. I’ll hand her the phone right now.” He tells Armin before reaching the phone out towards you. You give him a full glare now as you take the phone out of his hand, a grin showing on his face.

Your hand shakes slightly as it wraps around the phone and you bring it to your ear.

“Hey y/n...”

Shit, you can tell from the tone of Armin’s voice that’s he’s flustered, and right now that can only mean one thing. You bite the inside of your cheek in embarrassment at being confronted with the fact he heard. Your eyes flick from the ground to Eren, who catches your gaze and raises his eyebrows like he has to clue why you are hesitating.

Swallowing heavily, you try to keep your voice steady even as Eren pats the back of your head, his cock still smearing against your cheek. “H-hi Armin..”

You think you did pretty good, not having heard the light slurring of your words and heightened pitch of your voice. Both men heard it though, and both felt a twitch because of it.

[kyberphilosopher]

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck. 

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky. 

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same. 

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment. 

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position. 

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two. 

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close. 

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself. 

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you. 

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual. 

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him. 

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it. 

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes. 

“You promise?” Conner urges. 

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise. 

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for. 

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position. 

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair. 

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear. 

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking. 

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing. 

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right. 

“Why not?” Conner questions. 

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast. 

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable. 

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it. 

You answer with a snort. 

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants. 

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left. 

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind  you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence. 

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time. 

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence. 

Say it. Say it. Say it. 

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it. 

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie. 

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever. 

[teddy06writes]

Doodles

requested by @a-simp-for-block-people ">:) You have unleashed a monster (/j) I have so, so many ideas lmao. If you ever need requests, i will be here (/hj) For this round tho, I have two that you can choose from, or, ofc, you can do neither, that's perfectly fine! Anyway. 1) Dreamnotfound x reader? Like maybe the king and his spouse is George and Reader. Do what you will with this. 2) Perhaps a chaotic soulmate au between karlnap or smthn---Sorry for the long message, I rant a lot 😓 Obviosule, feel free to ignore this message. Irdm!"

Sapnap x Karl x reader

trigger warnings: some swearing

premise: hcs for soulmate karlnap au, where any drawing or mark or whatever shows up on your soulmates skin.

{I was gonna do a full scenario but I had too many ideas so its just hcs}

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

So, obviously in this world, ever since you were young you'd been able to talk to your soulmates by drawing or writing on your skin

you'd never thought much of it at first, because obviously as a kid you don't really understand the concept of soulmates

so you don't pay attention that much for a while, generally not caring all too much because you were still just a kid, that wasn't a huge thing you know?

but then junior high, high school ish age, your sitting in your history class one day, and you watch as a flower just sort of starts appearing on your hand.

sudenly your interested, so you draw a smiley face next to it, and then a heart apears

this goes back and forth for a long time, just doodles back and forth, because words have never appeared and your too scared to be the first to actually say something

but one day you look down to find a tiny, 'hi' written on your ankle

so naturally you write back 'hello!'

and a mini conversation is struck up and you learn your soulmates name is karl

you figure thats all and continue on vibing

but across the world or whatever, sapnap gets back from football practice to find a whole conversation written across his skin

and for some unknown reason, things like this contiue where the only one to fully put together that theirs three of you is sapnap

but then one day one of your friends looks down and writing on your wrist and goes, 'hey, how come you have two different handwritings?'

and you blink, look at them, then down at your wrist, and then back at them and go 'holy shit'

que frantically scrambling for a pen and you write all the way across your arm, 'HOLD UP THERES THREE OF US????????'

'yeah? you, karl, me'

after that its a rush of writing down your phone number, and gettting into contact other ways and planning meet ups and things

generally, when you met karl and sapnap for the first time, it was like everything felt right, cause you like ran at them in the airport and they were hugging you and :') it was so sweet

but then you also have to half scold them for drawing dicks on your arms

after that, you all finish school, sending each other doodles of encouragement

(it was decided that words got too complicated, and someone could be left out so they stopped)

i feel like karl would be the one to always draw flowers or cats or something like that, and sapnap would just like, doodle random things as he thought of them

there was defintly a time where you woke up on valentines day to find your arms covered in millions of little hearts

i also feel like instead of getting properly matching tattoos the way normal people do, you each got one that represented yourself, and then becuase of the connection, the others would apear along side it

so like a little flame, a little swirl, and maybe a star or something for yourself

doodles all the time at all hours of the day

sometimes you like blink and suddenly there will be more somewhere

thats all I've got

[doobnnoob-tf2]

( pinned )

Daniel / Aster

he/vamp/bat, gay-ace transman

28, ( 6 Oct. )

TF2-centric & headcanon blog

Ask the Mercs sideblog: @ask-the-tf2-mercs

CARRD

⛧ HEADCANONS ⛧ INCORRECT QUOTES ⛧ FICS ⛧

⛧ MY TAGS ⛧ MY ANONS ⛧

(for app users trying to view tag / anon links, use the links in my bio)

may update more in the future.  would prefer not to be reblogged.

( more under cut )

General

I have no preference on what you call me.  Aster, Daniel, Dan, Danny - all are perfectly acceptable

I’m a freelance furry artist

my fursona is a cheetah with a hat too big for his damn head

my TF2 OC is a RED Sniper named Mike (his profile is incomplete but I’m too lazy to update it)

please don’t refer to me as girl/queen/babygirl/whatever.  I know people see “gay man” and think that stuff is okay, but I’m also a TRANSman and that stuff is not okay and very much is misgendering

I am open to RP tho only with people 18+ bc I’m an adult myself and it’s just more comfortable for me that way

TF2-Specific

I REALLY love Team Fortress 2, I’ve had a major hyperfixation for this game since it’s initial release, it’s a huge comfort thing for me

Sniper is my favorite, I love him, he’s my husband, but I also just wanna be him so SHRUGS

SniperSpy is my biggest ship, my OTP, if I’m gonna get gay and talk about two men being in love it’s gonna be about them 90% of the time

SniperSpy is the only one I’ll go absolutely feral over, but I also really love HeavyMedic and Engineer/Soldier/Demoman, I actually have very few ships I don’t like

Blog-Specific

I really would prefer people DON’T tag my headcanons with things like “me” or “kin” or “self ship”. it just kinda makes me uncomfortable to have people do that with my headcanons

I don’t answer asks pertaining to Merc x OC / Reader / generic S/O sorta stuff, I’ll consider doing ficlets with those topics however I’d prefer to be paid for those since there’s a lot more involved with making them

"//mundeez nuts" is my non-tf2/general tag

I am free to pick and choose what I want to answer.  sometimes I read something, and while I like the concept I just don’t think I’ll have the words to answer it so I’ll delete it.  this is to keep myself from getting overwhelmed trying to answer things I genuinely can’t, thus causing myself to stress out and be unable to answer other asks

I used to have a headcanon blog, so if some posts seem familiar it’s because I’ve resposted them here

I’m very dyslexic so don’t expect my text posts to be perfect

for personal reasons, I don’t do genderbent asks

I don’t really answer asks pertaining to kids, the reason being I don’t have much of an interest in them and therefore I’m just not the best person to ask

if you’re gonna reblog one of my headcanon posts to “correct” it, just make your own post.  it’s weird and rude and I certainly did not ask for your opinion, especially if someone was asking for MINE

chances are if I post anything focused on Sniper and Scout, it’s NOT a ship thing.  I would prefer people not tag it as shipping but I know people probably won’t see this / won’t care lol.  but if you see your reblog has been hidden from the post, know that that’s probably why

I don’t really want my blog/headcanons/asks/etc associated with TF2 Twitter.  they make me EXTREMELY uncomfortable with the way they treat transmen as fet/ishes

BYF

I personally cannot get into most 10th class / fem merc things, I won’t shit on people who do enjoy it.  it’s just I’ve had the concepts for both ruined for me and I can’t separate the bad feelings from them anymore.  there are VERY specific scenarios where I can find myself enjoying either

I don’t actually dislike SniperScout as a ship.  I just tend to veer away from it these days because the people who do ship those two are super fucking toxic towards others who ship Sniper with anyone else

also if you’re gonna send anon hate over me shipping SniperSpy, don’t waste your own time and instead do something productive with it.  I’m just gonna delete it anyway

I do not under any circumstances ship Spy and Scout, not even if you claim it’s “not canon”, not even if you use OCs (bc it feels too close to the “but it’s not canon” excuse)

if you’re a proshipper: you’re disgusting, and I do not and will NEVER like you.  stay the fuck away from me and my posts, they are not for people like you.

I block transphobes who f..eti..shize transmen by only portraying us as s/ubm/ssive b/ttoms and don’t see transmen any other way

in general, I block pretty freely.  I’m here to enjoy MY experience and I’m tired of putting others first when they hurt me or make me uncomfortable.  TF2 is a huge comfort thing for me and makes me happy and I’m not gonna let people ruin more aspects about it for me than already have been

[viperbarnes]

The Tie That Binds – [One of Eight]

[B. Barnes, Soulmate AU]

Summary: HYDRA took everything from you, your life, your future, they even burned off your soulmark to make sure nobody would go looking for you. Now the man they forced you to fix reappears in your life, to make amends and to be ‘of service’.

You know that they made him do all those things, that James 'Bucky’ Barnes is not The Winter Soldier, that he’s innocent. You don’t blame him. But that doesn’t make seeing him again any easier.

Warnings: Panic attacks, language, talk and depiction of home invasion and abduction, canon level violence, HYDRA levels of torture, angst, fluff, slow-ish burn, friends to lovers.

<- Prev / Next ->

Nothing felt real until you saw him again.

It was as if ever since 2015, you’d been living your life in some kind of limbo, nothing mattered, the same old routine day in and day out. The world seems to move in slow motion around you, everything slightly lagging behind.

Like you can only see in black and white.

Like you were numb.

And then all of a sudden, in one brilliant flash of light everything speeds up, colour blinds you and the numbness disappears, replaced instead by pure, unadulterated fear.

He walks slowly down the hallway of doors, his eyes locked on yours like he knew you’d be here, knew exactly when to catch you. That in itself sets off a million other fears in your brain, and no matter how many times you’d gone through this scenario in your head, how many times you’d stayed up formulating a plan for escape, you can’t seem to move. Your body is frozen in place, the only movement available to you is the shake in your hands as he gets closer and closer.

You can’t even seem to cry.

He stops several feet away, looking for all the world like he wanted to be anywhere but here, but he squares his shoulders anyway and takes a deep breath.

“Hi.” He greets grimly, voice more nervous than you’d imagined, though deep and distinctly tainted by a Brooklyn accent you might’ve found endearing if not for everything else.

You realise suddenly that you’ve never heard him speak before.

You only stare, unblinking. He takes another deep breath and continues.

“My name is James Bucky Barnes. I am no longer the Winter Soldier–”

The mention of him, the name itself, makes you drop the thick set of keys and the small stack of letters you hold, sending them clattering to the floor. He stops speaking and blinks down at them, then back at you, before he crouches down to collect them.

“… And I’m here to make amends.” He stands slowly and holds out your keys and letters, lips pursed tightly as he waits for you to say something, or react at all. But you’re still staring at him, still unable to tear your eyes away until he waves the items, making your keys jingle a bit, and you snap out of it.

“I’m sorry.” He says, seemingly sincerely, but your voice is gone, and you can only nod as you carefully, hesitantly, take your things back from him, thankful when he steps back again. He stares at you with a sad frown, and you want so desperately to open your mouth and to say something, anything, but you just can’t.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and takes another step back.

“I’m… I’m going to go home now.” He tells you pointedly, and you can only nod once more. He turns his back and begins to walk.

You take that moment to shakily shove your key into the lock, quickly heaping yourself inside and slamming closed the door.

Making sure you lock your door once again, you can’t stop the sobs that wrack your body, sliding down the heavy wood and curling yourself into a ball.

You don’t hear him stop at the end of the hallway, you don’t hear the way he curses under his breath.

-

You laugh wildly and wave off your friends, shaking your head as you enter your apartment building. Even as the doors shut you can still hear them talking and laughing loudly as they return to their own buildings, but let the first peaceful sounds of quiet hit you as you jab the button for the elevator and make your way up to your place.

The alcohol buzzing through your veins amplifies reality and you ponder what an odd sensation it is to be so cognisant of yourself when you’re finally alone after a night of being surrounded by others. You lean heavily against the elevator wall and pull your graduation cap from your head when you realise you’re still wearing it.

It wasn’t the first time you’d graduated, but it was the last.

Excitement bubbles in you once again as you exit the lift onto your floor, all the possibilities and futures that lay before you making you feel unstoppable. You were going to be big, the things you were going to do were going to be big and now that you were fully and properly accredited, you couldn’t wait to prove to the world what you could do.

You unlock your apartment door on the third try, and stumble as you throw your cap and purse on the counter. Tomorrow you would call back Stark Industries and formally accept their offer, but for now, you needed water, a shower and bed. In that order.

You don’t bother turning on the lights in your apartment as you stumble through it, moving for your bathroom, however, when you reach the main hallways that lead to your bedroom, you pause and frown, switching the light next to you on as you stare down the passage.

You could have sworn you’d shut your bedroom door… In fact, you’d made a point of it before you’d left that morning… but here it was, wide open, and even swinging slightly like it were caught in a breeze.

In your drunken haze, you only frown deeper and move further down the hall, tiptoeing as quietly as you could, as if you were going to catch a ghost or an intruder off guard, but when you reach the doorway and switch the light on, you’re greeted by nothing.

A breath of anxiety leaves your lungs. It had been a busy morning, you could have easily forgotten that you’d gone back in after you’d shut it.

You relax, and kick it open further, shuffling forward before closing it behind you, but it stalls, refusing to click into place. A little frustrated now, you push on it harder, looking down at your floor to make sure there was nothing stopping it from shutting, but everything was clear. With an annoyed growl, you tear the door open again, intending to inspect the door frame itself, but you’re stunned frozen.

A man stands before you, completed shadowed in black, all but his eyes covered. You don’t even have time to react, you open your mouth to scream, but his hand shoots out, grabbing your jaw, the noise dying out before you can even make it.

Your body trembles, tries to back away, tries to run but he already has you, a grip stronger than what seemed real pulling you by where he holds you.

“Pack only essentials.” His voice is monotone and dark, and from his free hand, he throws a black duffle bag at your feet between you. His words left no room for argument, no terms for negotiation and yet your inebriated mind throws this out the window. You manage to latch onto the nearest item, a small lamp on the cupboard next to you, and with strength you didn’t know you had, you smash the thing into the side of the man’s head.

He releases you, hissing, and you run, somehow past him, your sloppy, drunken movements tamed somewhat by the adrenaline coursing through you.

You make it to your kitchen, to your purse and your phone, but then he’s there, hand grabbing yours and squeezing so hard your phone breaks under his grip. Intense and unrivalled pain lances through your fingers and palm, joined by a strange burning sensation. You become acutely aware of the snapping sound of bones until he lets go.

“Do not run.” He warns, though it sounds more like a threat, and with his body now bearing down over yours, and the pain in your hand, you lash out with your other, trying to push him away, maybe injure his eyes. Your fingers catch on something hard though, and you only manage to dislodge his mask, revealing his full face to you.

You don’t know or recognise him, and there was something so cold and unfeeling about his expression despite the situation you were in that makes your skin crawl. It was like the lights were on but nobody was home, like his brain was completely disconnected from his body and actions, right up until his eyes narrow, and he lifts a fist.

You can’t help but glance at the appendage before it crashes into your face, something catching your eye about it as the moonlight pouring in from your living room window hits it, and you realise, it was silver.

The last thing you remember before he knocks you out is the strange, but all-too-familiar whirring of a mechanical arm.

You wake up with a start, air trying to claw its way out of your lungs desperately. Your wide eyes search the room, and momentarily you see nothing but four grey walls, slowly closing in on you, before your senses begin to return, and your familiar bedroom fades through the nightmarish vision.

Sounds of the city waking up outside serve to ground you, and you slump back against your pillows for a few seconds, allowing your breathing and heart rate to calm down before you peel yourself out of bed slowly, cringing at the way your hair sticks to your clammy, sweaty skin.

The cold Brooklyn morning is comforting to you, and although you’d usually sleep longer than this on a work night, you know you won’t be going back to bed any time soon. You make your way to your small, cramped bathroom and switch the lights on, quickly discarding your clothes.

When you reach for the tap, you pause, eyes fixated on your hand, the one you hand remember clear as day being all but crushed in his grip. It had healed, but the broken bones weren’t the worst of it.

They’d taken your soulmark.

You don’t know why they did, you guess it had something to do with making sure there were no loose ends as far as your abduction went. They’d cut the mark from your hand, burned the wound, until it healed into just a lump of scarred, white skin.

Out of all the things they’d taken from you, it was this that hurt the most. They’d taken everything and left you with nothing, not even that which you were fated for. Knowing that somewhere out there, your soulmate would be waiting, wondering where you were, but you’d never be able to find them, never be able to know for sure if they were the one...

The first blasts of cold water shock the thoughts from your mind, and you immerse yourself, basking in the feeling against your hot skin, before the water finally begins heating, fogging up the room.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to close your eyes, leaning your forehead against the white tile.

“They’re gone. You’re free, and they’re gone…” You begin repeating softly, the familiar mantra only just audible over the running water.

You hadn’t had a nightmare in months, not one so vivid anyway, not one that made sense, that was more a memory playing itself back than a dream. You didn’t sleep well as a rule, but normally your bad dreams consisted of other things.

You know it’s not a coincidence, not when he’d shown up at your door a week ago.

You knew he was innocent. You knew that. He’d been brainwashed and tortured and he was innocent… But that didn’t make everything you’d experienced less real. Coming to terms with the fact he wasn’t some monster was hard when all you wanted was someone to hate.

You suppose you just never thought you’d ever see him again in the flesh.

It was easier to fear the memory of something, but when it showed up at your door, apologising and wishing to make amends…

Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop thinking about him. What had he meant about making amends? Why had he sought you out after so long? What did he want?

Maybe that’s why when he shows up at your door again, you aren’t so terrified.

He definitely gives you a fright, but no more than anyone would seeing as you’d opened your front door just as he’d raised a fist to knock on it. A momentary flash of fear makes your eyes widen, but you’re rather surprised when it seems to pass over you, settling down into something more like unease.

For his part, Barnes looks a little bewildered, like he’d been caught out, and you wonder briefly, with no small amount of discomfort, how long he’d been standing there.

You both stare at each other, until he finally forces open his mouth and speaks.

“I can go, if you want,” He blurts, eyes darting over your features quickly, but always returning to your eyes.

“But I just came to ask if there’s anything I can do for you?” He nods slightly after speaking, as if he’d been practising the words and had delivered them just as intended.

You blink at him, completely taken aback, but somehow managing to find your voice this time. Is this what he’d meant by ‘making amends’?.

“I… I don’t know…?” You shuffle from one foot to the other.

“My… My friend told me that I should seek out people I hurt… to be ‘of service’.” He tells you quickly, as if he suddenly felt the need to explain himself. Honestly, it’s helpful, helping you put together more pieces of whatever the hell this puzzle was.

“You didn’t hurt me.” You say carefully, trying not to sound like you’d been practicing. You see his brow furrow, and his lips pull into a thin line.

“HYD– They were the ones who did it…” You take a deep breath, adjusting your hold on your reusable shopping bags. His eyes flicker to them briefly, but are back on your face in a blink.

“I read about you… after, I mean… I know you weren’t…” You lift a hand and tap your temple, though immediately cringe.

Barnes lips quirk, but any semblance of a smile disappears soon after, his eyes turning strangely soulful. With his haircut and altogether more well-kept look, it was hard to see why you’d been so scared of him the other day… he didn’t even look like the same person anymore.

“Sure. But I still did those things… I still owe you.”

You stare at each other again for a long while, almost like you were both just reacquainting yourselves with what you looked like. You weren’t exactly put-together yourself right now, but you can’t imagine you look any worse than when you were a literally prisoner of HYDRA.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” He asks again a moment later, and you suddenly remember that you were standing in your doorway, disrupted in your task.

“I– I don’t know, I’m sorry, I have to go,” You shake your head, and attempt to dismiss him for now. The store was only open for another hour before your shift started.

“I need to get my groceries before the shop closes.”

Barnes steps back, gives you plenty of room as you pull your door shut behind you, locking it securely. But when you turn back to him, his face seems to have perked up. It’s odd to see on him, honestly.

“I can carry them for you.”

You stare at one another again, and you find for some reason you can’t say no.

Perhaps you just wanted to see the former Winter Soldier carry your groceries.

The thought almost makes you laugh.

Not as much as seeing him trail behind you in the aisles does. You wonder if your sudden ease at his presence is similar to the ease you have when there’s a spider in your bathroom… You don’t want it around exactly, but if you’ve got your eyes on it, at least you know where it is.

You keep to your short list of needs, mostly trying to ignore the fact that this was very, very strange all things considered, and when you’ve finished and gone through the checkout, he grabs all six of your bags and waits for you to lead the way.

“Do you… do you live in the city?” You can’t help but ask him on the walk back. He looks at you, almost surprised, but nods, and averts his gaze again.

“In Bed-Stuy.”

It’s your turn to be surprised.

“That’s only a couple of blocks. I’ve never seen you around before.” You marvel. He doesn’t look at you, keeping his eyes trained to the pavement.

“I know.”

Silence falls between you again, and prevails until you reach your building.

“Thanks. This has been… weird.” You tell him truthfully, watching how his lips quirk in that almost-smile again. He hands you your bags of groceries and then looks about.

“You do this every Thursday?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No, I just forgot all week, and I really needed milk.”

He hums under his breath, frowning slightly again as he digs into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad. You watch him scribble something on a page, before he rips it out and holds it out to you.

“That’s my number… if you ever need anything, call me. I’ll come.” Barnes says seriously. Nodding, you reach out to gingerly pluck the paper from his fingers, but he keeps a hold of it for a moment longer, locking eyes with you.

“Anything.” He reiterates. Swallowing, you nod again, and he releases the page.

“Thanks, uh–”

“–Bucky… Please just call me Bucky.”

You watch him with a strange feeling filling your chest as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets and steps away from you. It takes you a few seconds to build up the courage to actually say his name.

“Thanks, Bucky.”

---

Bucky waits until you’ve disappeared inside your apartment building before he quickly pulls his hands from his pockets, hissing in discomfort as he finally attends to the searing, itching burn that had suddenly begun attacking his soulmark.

A few good scratches does the trick, but it leaves him with an entirely different sensation.

Bucky stares up at your apartment building, despair and dread settling deep in his belly. Realisation spurns on a hundred memories, a hundred memories now with a new context, a worse context, and Bucky feels completely nauseous.

You were his soulmate.

And HYDRA had made you afraid of him.

If you enjoyed, a comment or reblog would be greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading!

[weenwrites]

Hello, I’m Ween, I write fanfiction! Please read my rules underneath the cut before sending in a request! If you’re interested in a matchup, the rules for those are on a different page.

If you wish to block my content, please blacklist the tag #weenwrites

With that in mind, please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask me in a DM first!

Requests: OPEN Matchups: CLOSED Inbox: 50-ish requests

Rules

Things To Keep In Mind

(These are also part of the rules, please do not just skim or skip over them.)

1. You aren’t paying me to write this for you.

I am just doing this as a hobby and you are simply sending in a request and asking me to write this for free. I am not guaranteed to complete or even do your request even if you send it in and follow my rules. The least you could do is make it easier for me to write for you is by following my rules and sending in a detailed request.

If I do not reply to your ask, I am either busy with something else, working on it, or it did not come through, so please don’t send me asks about when I’ll get it done. You can ask if I’ve received it though.

TLDR: I’m writing whatever you want for free. Writing is hard, it takes up a lot of my time. Be patient and please follow my rules.

2. I DO NOT WRITE FOR GENDERED READERS

The reason I had to put that up in all capslock is because many people still disregard this when sending in requests.

I do not write gendered readers/inserts /(i.e. male/female readers/inserts) because I generally write in second-person-pov which doesn’t use gendered pronouns for the reader/insert, only for the character. However in scenarios—where I write in third-person-pov—I will always default to using they/them pronouns regardless of what you ask for.

The reason why I don’t write gendered readers/inserts is because I want my writing to be inclusive. A majority of x reader fanfiction I’ve seen on the internet typically features female or femme inserts, and for the people like me who do not identify as female and want to imagine themselves in the place of the reader insert, this can break the immersion (or in my case it makes me feel dysphoric and uncomfortable). I feel the same can happen for people who read fics with a male or masc insert, so that’s why I don’t write male inserts either.

You could also use a browser extension like InteractiveFics (if you use firefox) if you want to change the name and pronouns on a fic.

TLDR: I don’t write gendered readers because I want my writing to be inclusive. If you ask for a femme reader or a gendered reader, I will write the fic in the third person rather than the usual second person.

3. Specify what you want in your request.

Human or cybertronian reader? Or is the reader something else completely? S/O or friend? Or is the reader a stranger to the character? Headcanons or scenarios? What characters would you like me to write for? If you want me to write for transformers, what continuity do you want me to write for?

Or if you send in a request about someone who has superpowers, and you’re using a character from a different media as reference, and you don’t tell me anything about said character, I’m not going to do any research on that character, and you might not get a lot if I don’t know anything about that media you’re referencing. Having to do research for every single ask would take up a lot of time, so I would appreciate it if you told me more about the reader insert, their powers, what they’re like, etc.. so you can give me more to work with.

Unless you’re sending in a request about something like mental illness, disease, disability, etc., then I won’t do any research about it.

TLDR: Please be very specific in requests. Don’t be afraid to write a whole paragraph detailing what you want, because chances are that you’ll give me more to work with. Leaving things vague does not help me. I will research mental illness, disease, and disability if your request includes that, but I won’t do research on anything else you mention if you don’t explain it in your request.

4. I have a character request limit.

I only write headcanons for 3 characters. I will only write scenarios for 1 character. If you surpass my limit, I’ll most likely just choose one character.

Need Help With Writing Your Request?

If you’re not sure what to include in your request, here are some questions you can think about to help write your request:

What Continuity?:

Do you want headcanons or a scenario?:

What Characters? (No more than 3 for headcanons, 1 for a scenario):

Human, Non-human, or cybertronian reader?:

What is the reader insert’s relation to the character?: (e.g. friend, s/o, enemy, etc..)

Please include a brief description on how you want the reader insert to act:

What is the plot/premise of the request?:

And if you don’t know how to fill it out or answer them, here’s an example:

What Continuity?: RID 2001

Do you want headcanons or a scenario?: Headcanons

What Characters? (No more than 3 for headcanons, 1 for a scenario): Skybyte

Human, Non-human, or cybertronian reader?: Human reader

What is the reader insert’s relation to the character?: They’re a close friend who has a crush on him.

Please include a brief description on how you want the reader insert to act: They’re talkative with him and they joke around with him, but they’re anxious about confessing their feelings to him.

What is the plot/premise of the request?: Skybyte and Y/N confess their feelings while they’re hanging out.

And so you would fill out the request as follows:

Hi can you write headcanons for RID 2001 Skybyte with a human reader? The human reader is a close friend who has a crush on him and they’re very friendly and talkative to him, but they’re nervous to confess their feelings. Skybyte is also nervous, but while they’re hanging out, they confess to eachother.

Fandoms & Characters I’ll Write For

I WILL NOT WRITE FOR ANY CHARACTERS THAT ARE NOT ON THIS LIST

Transformers: Prime

Any of the Autobots ( Except for the humans. That means you cannot send in a request about any of the humans. i.e. Raf, Jack, and Miko turning Cybertronian etc. etc. ) Any of the Decepticons ( Encase anyone is wondering, yes. This does include Predaking and the other predacons. )

Tranformers Armada/Energon/Cybertron ( Unicron Trilogy Series )

Any of the Autobots Any of the Decepticons

Robots in Disguise 2001

( I’ve only watched the English dub, and for those who don’t know, the characters in the Japanese dub act different in the English dub. In the English dub, the dialogue and some of the characters had to be re-written to appeal to an American audience. )

Any of the Autobots Any of the Decepticons Any of the Predacons

Transformers Earthspark

Any of the Autobots Any of the Decepticons Any of the Terrans ( Platonic only )

What I WILL write

Fluff

Comfort

Angst

Minor Injury ( i.e scrapes, cuts, broken bones, no graphic descriptions of gore )

Dark Themes ( Suicide, Self Harm, Depression, Abuse. I’ll tag it with trigger warnings i.e #suicide, #suicide tw, #self harm, #self harm tw, etc ) 

Platonic Relationships

Queerplatonic Relationships

Romantic Relationships

Parental/Mentor-Student Relationships (Nothing related to/implying sparklings though)

LGBTQ+

Polyamorous Relationships ( Counts as one character slot )

What I WON’T write

NSFW

Pregnancy

Major Gore

Yandere

Politics

Homophobia (The Character being homophobic)

Racism (The Character being racist)

Pedophilia

Stalking

Crossovers (!)

Character x Character

Transformers Sparklings

Humans are cute AU

(!) Requests that ask for a reader that’s similar to a canon character from another show will count as a crossover. However some crossovers are acceptable.

Here is an example using a request I’ve received that breaks my rules, and why I would have to decline it:

“can you make TFP x Reader who has a WandaVision situation, like all of her family had died and grew distance from Team Prime and in a mental breakdown, she has Scarlet Witch powers and accidently created an alternate reality bubble where her family is "alive" in Jasper Nevada and never wanted to leave ? (either the kids are in there or not, like the hostages mind-controlled on the show if you want to write this part) and outside of hex creation, Team Prime are trying to find a way to help her to get out of her fantasy delusion.”

1. The reader is very similar to Wanda. They have her powers, and the premise of the request seems similar to the plot of the movie Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness.

I’ve never watched WandaVision, but then again they’re saying that the reader is in a similar if not the same predicament that Wanda is in. So in my opinion, they’re asking me to write Wanda in a way.

However, if you were to only use Wanda as a point of reference for the reader’s powers and nothing else (e.g. backstory, etc..), that would be fine and acceptable as long as you aren’t asking to put them in the same predicament.

An example of an “acceptable” crossover would be the following ask:

“TFP Optimus Prime, Bumbleee, and Shockwave with a human S/O who just casually mentions they've been to the Backrooms? Like they would always/sometimes mentions their past dangerous 'adventures' through countless Levels of the Backrooms, and would refuse to elaborate further (for fun, of course. The human would tell stories regardless) and the human is so deadpan/casual about it.“

This is a crossover because it features aspects from another media and the anon is asking me to have characters from TFP react to this, yet I’m perfectly fine with writing something like this. The reason it’s acceptable is because the Backrooms is a place, not a person. I find it more difficult to write about characters or concepts that I’m not well familiar with, but this simpler and easier for me to write.

TLDR: If you’re asking me to write a crossover for a character that isn’t from the media you’re requesting, I won’t do it. However, if it’s a concept, a place, or a thing that isn’t from the media you’re requesting, I may or may not do it.

Then again, if you aren’t sure if your ask counts as a crossover or not, just send it in and ask!

                                            Thanks for reading

[hansoulo]

lay back in cloying sin

part three of “Pillar of Salt”

Pairing: Boba Fett/Princess!Reader (she/her pronouns, no Y/N)

Warnings: NSFW-ish; references to marks and bruises, kissing, probably inaccurate descriptions of ballroom dancing, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.3k

Gif Credit: (x) by @/ktfhett

A/N: boba & reader: [tyler the creator voice] oh no i hope i don’t fall 

༓ series masterlist ༓ 

Dinner was a tedious affair, filled with hollow pageantry. It was one last hurrah before the send off of the honored guests, one of which you’d never talked to and the other who was nowhere to be found. The former, Lord Vader, sat at the head of the long table and made for very unamusing company. You had the distinct impression that he’d rather be anywhere than here, having to listen to his uniformed subordinates squabble in grating voices and your father simper about mining collectives. That made for two of you.

But the cavernous banquet hall was always beautiful, if a bit ostentatious, and the food never disappointed, so you consoled yourself with a loosened corset and the promise of a second dinner by servants who pitied your forced small portions.

You floated into the large room, shuffled through by the compounding procession before an older man offered to help you into your seat. The ornateness of your evening wear made you grateful for the help, watching in sincere thanks as he pulled out the high-backed chair.

“Thank you, um…” the color of his robes and the softness of his hands signalled high rank and you chanced a guess. “Duke...?”

“Sagcock,” he finished for you. “Jovron Sagcock.”

He has got to be joking.

Evidently, he wasn’t.

If the man saw you choke on a laugh, sputtering it into a hiccup as you sat down, he pretended not to notice. After all, princesses knew better than to be unbecoming or crass or know why any part of that exchange could be fodder for humor.

Fighting down one last cough, you attempted to regain some sense of decorum. What a wonderful start to the evening.

The arrangement of persons on this particular night was strange though, even disregarding the title of the man now seated beside you. There were more people than usual filling out the hall tonight, all fancily clad and buffed to shining. Boba wasn’t anywhere to be found.

The supposed importance of the occasion probably necessitated a shuffling of seats to soothe egos and encourage conversation, but you weren’t used to being so close to the head of the table, near parallel with your mother. Usually your elder sisters sat higher and provided you the benefit of distance. Of course, they were all gone now. Your brother was still too young to be at evening dinners, so there was no buffer between you and your parents’ ire.

Maybe this was the Maker’s way of getting back at you for your tiny tryst. Maybe they all knew about what happened in the garden and were just waiting for the shoe to drop, branding you as a harlot and finally letting you free. Vader’s static words travelled down the table and mingled with your father’s but you were too busy entertaining worse-case scenarios to understand conversation.

People were observing you, you realized partway through the first round of courses. Watching you with strange eyes as if you were the last scrap of halfway-spoiled meat for imperial officials and all the nobility that had come to pay their prostrate respects. No one had really given half a damn about you before, which made it all the more strange.

A heel foot softly kicked at yours underneath the table, breaking you out of your glazed thoughts. The fork you had been mindlessly moving across your plate stopping mid-swirl. Looking up, you met the quiet glare of your mother and cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you asked. Your question was punctuated with a smile too large to be genuine. The queen’s head jerked towards the grizzled man seated to her right and you turned towards him at her behest, face open in trained invitation. “Oh, hello, General.”

General Enes, current commander of the army of Quas Killam. Not strictly Imperial, but aligned close enough to have him in the king’s good graces and to reside permanently at court. He was also a Duke and probably a cousin thrice removed, but who was counting?

“No need to stand on pleasantries, your Highness,” the gray-haired man assured you, one large hand resting over his stomach as servants replaced the dirtied plates in front of you with new ones. You only sipped delicately at your algarine as he chortled and remembered, “It seems like yesterday that you were running around the palace with your sisters. A little sprite of a thing, weren’t you?”

Was he drunk already? “Yes, I remember,” you tread pleasantly; carefully.

The general settled and let out one last chuckle before his eyes grew hawk-like again, trained in the jewelry and accoutrements that signified your being old enough to marry but young enough to have not yet been taken. Like a prize. Or a charity donation. “You’ve grown into quite the young woman, you know.”

So that’s where this was going. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and tried to look gracious. “Thank you, sir. That’s a high compliment.”

“How old are you again, dear?”

Masking your surprise at the forwardness of the question, you supplied your age to a nod of approval from both him and your mother.

“A good age, I’d say. ‘Round the same as my youngest.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” you shot a look down the table and caught a glimpse of cropped flaxen hair, its owner sitting enough seats down to prevent any shared conversation. You counted your blessings for it and smiled, tight-lipped. “Your son and I shared company when we were children.”

“Well that’s very nice,” the queen interjected quite loudly and looked around the long table with a light laugh but cold eyes. “Isn’t that nice?”

Your father looked at you for the first time all evening as if on cue, boring a hole into your face with the words he seemed to be telepathically trying to put in your mouth.

The taste of bitter wine on your tongue made your thoughts fevered, though not borne out of alcohol so much as the memories of someone else’s touch in the same places. “Yes,” you repeated vaguely. “Very nice.”

Darth Vader apparently didn’t remove his helmet. You wondered why he came to dinner at all.

The remaining evening hours had been whittled away by dessert and drinks. Everyone who cared to stay shuffled into the ballroom, a behemoth of a thing filled with inky windows and sparkling artifice. It was a blur of waltzes and predetermined couplings with boys you’d been ignoring since you were old enough to kick them in their shins, but you didn’t care enough to go to pains to avoid it. They broke up the monotony of introductions, at least, and let your mind and body be somewhere else for a while.

All compounded, the night left you flushed and tired. You needed alcohol. Or air. The latter was probably the more reasonable choice of the two.

Being in the midst of ballroom theatrics allowed for an easy enough escape, and a side entrance to a balcony overlooking the palace grounds became the object of your attention.

The tall double doors lay open in their glass encasings and spilled out lamplight refractions on the guests’ gaudy clothing and gaudier jewelry, everything sparkling and warm. But you were far enough away from it to still be chilled by the night air, a balm for your flushed cheeks and fizzling temper.

Usually guests ignored it in favor of staying indoors, so you were fairly confident in the promise of solitude and an undisturbed breeze.

But someone apparently had the same idea as you.

“Hello,” you ventured out a greeting to the silhouette not yet fully in your vision. You stepped closer and the heels of your shoes echoed on clay tiles. “I’m sorry, am I bothering you?”

Royal Highnesses shouldn’t really care about whether or not they were disturbing strange party guests, you could make them leave if you felt so inclined, but something in you was feeling magnanimous tonight. You tried not to think about why.

The figure didn’t turn back towards you, still facing out towards the blurry glitter of urban lights far off in the distance. It looked pretty this far away, all glowing masses and amorphous buildings that scraped the sky. You’d never  been close enough to see all the dinge and smog that made its home in places not populated by princesses. Marble felt more familiar than metal.

The man wore metal too, and his voice scraped at your chest when he answered. “You’re not bothering me, princess.”

Oh.

You ventured cautiously towards the balcony’s edge, next to the man you now could recognize as Boba. The thick stone railing was cool to the touch. “Hello.”

His helmet tipped to the left, which was probably his way of saying it back.

“I didn’t see you at the dinner,” you noticed quietly. Would it be presumptuous to assume he was avoiding you? Intellect said yes, but ego didn’t listen. You leant forward, the speckled marble digging into your elbows as you mirrored Boba’s sightline out into the city. “You know, you wouldn’t have needed to make conversation. Lord Vader was the guest of honor and all he did was sit there.”

“I don’t like crowds.”

“Ah.”

A silence lapsed between you, awkward as if you were strangers. You were though, weren’t you? Strangers. Not friends. Not lovers. Not really.

But if he asked you to crack yourself open for him, you would. You would rip apart every satin petticoat and snap the boning in your corsets until your hands were raw if it meant he would touch you; skin to skin. You’d run away and cite a hidden fountain as the reason why.

You didn’t know what he’d give up for you, if anything. Boba didn’t seem like the type to have much in the first place. Either by choice or by necessity.

The garden afternoon nagged at you after having time to form coherent thoughts, and the fizzy shine of palace lights reflecting off his helmet reminded you of what you’d been meaning to ask.

Night made you softer-spoken. “Why did you let me take off your helmet?”

Night made his edges sharper. “Why did you want to?”

“I asked first,” you volleyed back as reason enough to get an answer first.

Boba wasn’t a Mandalorian in the true sense of the word, at least that’s what gossip told you, so it didn’t really matter if he took the helmet off or not. But he kept it on in front of everyone else.

The hunter gave you visor-silence and your impatience made you concede. “I just wanted to see you,” you breathed out, still not looking at him.  The admission sounded much more naive than you intended.

His words held their characteristic aloofness but were edged by gentle teasing. “What if I said the same?”

That he wanted to see you?

You still didn’t understand half of why he did what he did and what he wanted, but you turned to face him head-on anyway. Cold moonlight fell on your neck and the air cracked with fever. You tried to reply in jest. “Then I’d say that you were being stupid.”

“You’d be right.”

A swallow bobbed in your throat. He always seemed to take up your vision; fill it and suffocate you with seemingly no effort. “And then I’d ask you to do it again.”

“Do what, princess?”

He knew. He just liked seeing the words come out of your mouth.

“Let me take your helmet off.”

This time, he guided your hands up himself. They were slow and almost careful running across your palms, placing them on the mechanisms your fingers found in quick memory. Set on the balcony railing, the helmet seemed to be a prop. An upside down bucket filled with all the things you had yet to say to each other, spilling out onto the ground in a fog.

“I like you better without it,” you decided when he turned back towards you, his weight still resting on the railing with one cocked hip. Everything about the way he looked was dark: inky black curls and scarred brown skin and eyes that pushed the air in your lungs with a stall and a catch. They looked even darker next to tan clothes and green armor.

His voice wasn’t entirely lacking in humor. He did that. Humored you. “Do you now?”

“Mhm.” you nodded with fake seriousness, slightly giddy and slightly too brave. You blamed it on an excess of wine and good company. “Better-looking.”

He only scoffed, a flash of pearl-white canines serving as one half of a smile. A smile that had been wider when it was against your collarbones, your neck, your mouth. A smile that you wouldn’t mind being in other places.

You nudged Boba’s shoulder with your own when a waltz kicked up in the background, faint through the open ballroom door. “There’s music,” you implied, half-joking and half-expectant. There had been this whole time, of course, but acknowledging it now seemed better than never. “You should ask me to dance.”

“I’m not one for dancing, your Highness.”

The title made you roll your eyes, a commonplace formality that you usually insisted on but now found overly facetious. Coming from him, that is. “Clearly not,” you almost snorted. Pushing away from the marble ledge with a finality that seemed almost comical, you held your hand out and waited, eyebrows raising and fingers beckoning. Well? your face seemed to say, Are you coming?

His sigh was bone-deep and settled in your chest like chunks of black plaster, but it felt good. “You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”

“No, I’m not,” you replied, as if it’d be ridiculous to expect anything else. Princesses danced with men at parties. You were a princess. Boba was a man at a party. In a roundabout sort of way. “It’s easy, I promise,” you assured, wrapping your hand around his wrist and pulling him away from the balcony. His glove slipped down a bit; just enough that your thumb could press one soft circle against the tan skin over bone.

Uncomfortable wasn’t really the correct word for how you thought he felt. You doubted Boba could ever be uncomfortable. No. No, the right word would probably be… bemused. Like he was in a menagerie watching a creature, something exotic and pretty, with mild interest while it still had his attention. But you did have his attention. That was something.

“You put your right hand on my waist,” you moved to reposition the large fingers more accustomed to blasters than they were to bodices. Boba smirked, almost boyish, when you caught his hand wandering someplace else. “Not that low,” you chided with quiet exasperation, placing your palm atop his and guiding it back up.

The pale leather was warm underneath your skin and you bit down a smile, almost awe-struck at how strange your hand looked next to his. Yours was polished, weighed down by heavy gold bangles and softened by years of idle play. His, you suspected (for you didn't actually know; hadn’t yet actually seen), was anything but.

“That’s good,” you supplied lightly. “And then I do this,”your other hand reached to rest on Boba’s shoulder. “And then- no, no you give me your left hand. Hold it out- good.”

Still looking down, you were careful not to trip over your skirts or his boots. “And now we just-” you breathed out and glanced up, surprised to find his expression strangely careful. Almost tender. You gulped down the quiet notch in your throat. “-now we just um… sway. Like this.”

You eschewed complication in favor of a simple rhythm, just letting your feet fall wherever they liked so long as they didn’t tangle in themselves. Now wasn’t the time for anything laborious; you didn’t have faith enough in Boba’s footwork. But he actually wasn’t too bad all things considered. A bit stiff and a bit gruff, but those were part and parcel. It was a bit like dancing with a tree trunk. A very handsome, very broad, very taciturn tree trunk. It was easy to let yourself sink into it a little with how solid he felt.

The man arched an eyebrow when your fingers stretched to thread together with his. “Just sway?”

“You’re welcome to do a jig instead if you’d like,” you replied wryly as your weight shifted from foot to foot. The hand around your waist stiffened at the prospect and a grin escaped your face.

“Nevermind.”

The amusement that had previously only been in your throat escaped in a quiet laugh. “Thought so,” you whispered, victorious. Tension, bunched up in your shoulders and collected in your bones, melted completely when he pulled you closer and let your head fall against the space of his neck. Sinew fit against silk like puzzle pieces and warmed the quiet moment that followed. Neither of you spoke for fear of disturbing the fresh peace.

You found yourself dwelling more and more on hypotheticals. Unrealistic and stupid, you knew, given who you both were. But still you dwelt, unable to fathom a reality outside of the last nine hours and inside a reality within which Boba was gone.

Would he fit here, with the stucco and plaster and ivy? With all the sheltered society of an insignificant court? With you?

You wondered if he dwelt on hypotheticals, too.

Swallowing cold air as Boba thumbed the collar of your dress, you felt the light scatter of broken blood vessels from hours before smart again. Your cheek pressed against the pauldron of his beskar, but neither of you were really dancing anymore. “I- I wanted to talk,” you began quietly. “About earlier.”

“Did you not like it?” Did you not like me?

“No! No, I…” you shook your head, trying to rid yourself of his assumption. The crystals hanging from your headpiece tinkled with every soft movement. “No, I… I liked it. I like…” The lump in your throat seemed to travel down back into your stomach. “You,” you finished, swallowing the final word and leaving all its implications to settle in the night.

He could feel the rise and fall of your chest; delicate and airy and resigned. You spoke again. “But you’re leaving tomorrow and... and we could’ve been caught. And the more I think about it the more I really am not looking forward to the idea of some court scandal or being cloistered up like a nun because I—”

He called you your name.

He’d never used your name before.

You lifted your head off his shoulder, desperate-eyed and looking for answers you both knew he couldn’t give. “Yes?”

“Kiss me.”

You barely breathed out an okay before the arm around your waist tightened, crushing you against cold metal and a warm body.

He kissed you how a lover would. Like how a first kiss should’ve been.

It was gentle. Warm. Tender-mouthed and aching, placing promises down your throat with a soft hand and closed eyes. It was… It was…

It was broken up far too quickly.

A voice called out your name from somewhere far-off, regally accented and not at all welcome. It called your name again, first middle and last with all the titles in between with much less patience. Your mother, queen consort.

The groan of displeasure that escaped you was muffled in Boba’s mouth and swallowed up before it could give either of you away. He recovered much faster than you did, peeling back from your body with eyes already alert and scanning the shadows for passersby. There were none. For now.

“It’s my mother,” you whispered, letting your eyes roll seemingly out of your skull. “They’re probably doing some send-off for Vader’s entourage.”

Neither of you mentioned the fact that Boba was part of that entourage too.

Your last words were rushed before the footsteps became too close and the mercenary pulled away. You didn’t really want to stay to hear the answer. “Will I see you again?”

Boba Fett, you’d come to learn, wasn’t the kind of man to offer more than what he knew he could give.

The helmet went back on. “I don’t know.”’

[cozy-the-overlord]

Masquerade

Part 2 of Cozy’s Fluff-To-Angst Fun and Games

@loki-hargreeves said

Here's a fluffy-ish prompt for you,

Dancing together (anything between ballroom dancing or just dancing in the living room at 2am together) 💚

Summary: It didn’t have to be bad, Loki told himself. His parents were married through such an arrangement, and they were happy together. 

He would be happy too.

Word Count: 1,659

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: I feel like if you’ve read any of my other stuff, you’ll know how my favorite trope is childhood friends to lovers. I thought I’d try a twist on that formula. Not sure if it worked, but here you go!

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: None? I think? It’s just Loki being lonely

Tags:  @lucywrites02 @silver-lupines @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname @electroma89 @lokislittlesigyn @moumouton4 @theredrenard @justdontmindmetm

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Loki had always loved dancing.

Alfheim balls were a little different from the ones he had grown up attending on Asgard, but the dancing was similar enough. It was a comfort, little scraps of familiarity floating in a frozen sea. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be swept up in the rhythm.

Rowan was radiant, as always. She laughed as she spun in his arms, the skirt of her dress flaring around her legs in a sparkling golden blur, and when he pulled her closer he found himself laughing too. It was impossible to resist—her smile was infectious.

His wife was a brilliant actress.

Loki hadn’t known what to expect from the arranged marriage laid before him. He had been granted only a month to attempt to straighten his thoughts before being sent away to Alfheim to meet his bride. It didn’t have to be bad, he told himself. His parents were married through such an arrangement, and they were happy together. Happy enough at least. He would be happy too.

And … he could almost feel happy here. Dancing. Drowning in the music. Letting the cacophony of the ballroom wash over him. The two of them swooped across the floor, so smooth they might have been flying, all eyes on them. It almost felt like the life he had always expected to lead.

It almost felt real.

Loki felt lightheaded. Before his wedding, he had never cared for Elven wine, but now he had been finding himself warming up to the drink a little more with each banquet. It made everything seem distant. He liked that.

Rowan twirled again. Her gown was silky green, swathed in gold—his colors, of course. She had been wearing something similar when he first arrived. Really, between the dress and her dark curls, she could have been mistaken for Loki’s sister. It was something Thor had been quick to point out, smacking his shoulder with a boisterous laugh as soon as they stepped off the Bifrost.

Loki missed that laugh. Everything here seemed too quiet. The highlight of his wedding feast had been watching his brother drunkenly frolic his way through the night, challenging men he didn’t know to duels over women he had just met, spilling wine all over himself when a pretty girl brushed up too close to him. His mother had been mortified, but Loki found it endlessly entertaining.

He had nearly cried the next morning, when he came down to bid his family farewell. He hid it, of course. It wouldn’t do to have a son of Odin bawling like a baby over a goodbye. He even managed a weak laugh, when Thor clapped him on the back and congratulated him for surviving his wedding night, although he was curious as to what his brother would say had he known Loki spent it on a couch.

But he really felt it rising, that frozen knot of panic in his throat, when his mother gave him one last embrace. He wondered if she could hear the frantic, childish plea he left unsaid.

Please don’t leave me here.

But as powerful as his mother was, she couldn’t read his mind, and so leave him they did.

He didn’t blame Rowan. He couldn’t—this was no more her fault than it was his. In fact, he had tremendous respect for her. The speech she had given him that night, when they returned to the apartment they were to share as husband and wife, had been straightforward and concise—perhaps a little rehearsed, but not so much that her conviction was unclear.

Still, it had startled him.

“I’ll be your wife. When I’m crowned Queen, you’ll be my Crown Prince. You and your realm will have the power and control you so desperately desire. But you won’t have me. You’ll never have me. Understand?”

Loki nodded. What was he supposed to do? Of all the scenarios he had run through his mind, over and over again until he could barely focus on anything else, he had never prepared for such an abrupt dismissal. When she disappeared into the bedroom, slamming the door with a swish of her emerald gown, he could only stand there like the great gaping idiot he was.

She was swishing that gown now, as they circled the floor once more. She stretched her hand out to his, his hand grazing her waistline as they turned to the music. The crowd of nobles watching from the edges of the ballroom seemed to have drawn even tighter around them since he last looked. The muscles in Loki’s neck tensed, but he held his easy smile. He had learned to dance through these maskless masquerades, and he danced them quite well.

Rowan wasn’t bothered by all the eyes on her. She peered across the assembly, scanning the faces even as she fell back into his arms beaming. Loki didn’t even have to look up to know who she was searching for.

He had met him once. The Other Man. His name was Ari, and he worked in the royal stables. For banquets such as this, however, he was occasionally called in to aid the overworked staff. It was a station he had been born into, it seemed—his father had served as groom, his mother a kitchen maid. Ari had served alongside him as a stableboy in his youth. He and Princess Rowan had known each other since they were children.

Loki had met him when he discovered him lounging in the very rooms he shared with his wife. It was a rare occasion—usually Rowan was smart enough to keep her extramarital engagements outside of the palace—but it seemed that she had to step out for a moment and asked Ari to wait for her. They shared several minutes of stilted conversation. Loki tried to be polite, but the stablehand was clearly uninterested in friendship. They were both exceedingly relieved when Rowan returned to whisk her lover away. The foul-eyed smirk Ari shot at him as he left made Loki feel sick.

He thought about asking Rowan not to bring him back to their apartment. Surely that would be a fair request. If Thor had been in his position he would certainly have no qualms about making it. No, he’d demand that Rowan never do such a thing again.

But … Loki had never exactly been the demanding type. He didn’t want to be the demanding type. It was her life, her love, and he was the intruder from another planet butting in and turning it upside down. It didn’t bother him that she wanted to be with someone else. He wasn’t jealous. He didn’t want Rowan, not like that. He didn’t love her, and she certainly didn’t love him, and Loki was perfectly fine with that. He wanted her to be with Ari, if that was what brought her happiness. They both deserved to be happy.

But … he found himself thinking about them a lot. He had precious little else to do here, besides nod along in meetings where he had no real say and reread books that no longer offered him escape. Loki’s mind would drift off, and he’d wonder how they met, the princess and the stableboy. Maybe Rowan had been lonely as a child—after all, she had no siblings, and the Alfheim court held precious few her age. Maybe she had come to the stables to hide away from the weight of royalty. Loki had done that when he was little—hide in the stables, or the wine cellar, or anywhere safe and secluded where it felt like nobody was looking at him.

Maybe she had hidden in an empty stall, and Ari found her when he came into clean. He imagined Ari had been quite lonely too—there couldn’t be a lot of conversation to be had when one spends their days mucking after horses—and so when he came across the princess huddled in the corner, her silk skirt carefully tucked under her knees, he sat down next to her.

Loki imagined them talking, not about anything in particular, just bouncing from topic to topic the way children tend to do. Maybe Rowan brought up her favorite book. Maybe Ari showed her his favorite flower. It didn’t really matter. But Loki pictured them growing closer, meeting up in secret again and again, their endeavors growing wilder with their childish glee. He saw them sneaking away to the roof of the palace to watch the sunset and count the stars, laughing at the ant-like people scurrying by below as they snacked on stolen chocolates. He saw them creeping away to practice dancing in the moonlight, with nothing but the nightingale’s song to count their steps. He saw them slowly begin to look each other in a different light, nervous lips brushing against each other for the first time. He saw them hatch plans of escape—long, intricate schemes that called for stolen ships and falsified identities—before they came to their senses and realized such plans would never come to fruition. He saw himself enter their story and felt their loathing.

Loki wished he had that. That closeness, that bond. He wished he could talk to Rowan, really talk to her and trust her to listen. Not in a romantic sense, but as something else. Friends. Weren’t there stories like that, where the husband and wife in arranged marriages grew to have a friendship more powerful than anything romantic?

But somehow, Loki knew that to his wife, he’d only ever be the man trying to rip her from her beloved.

The music was reaching a close. Rowan pulled away in a graceful curtsey. Loki let her go with a bow. The crowd rippled with polite applause, devoted and empty as always. Loki kept his smile, blithe as can be.

His wife wasn’t the only brilliant actor in the room.