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[kinemaster-editing]

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[nouearth]

breaking news.

bruce wayne x male reader headcanon.

summary: bruce has been making national headlines once again, but this time, you're caught up in it.

warnings: bale!bruce, panicked!reader, media frenzy surrounding relationship with bruce!

dating bruce wayne in public included explosive media coverage when the news of your relationship first leaked. for weeks upon weeks, it was all every news outlet and the public could talk about—gossip about. people couldn't flip through their tv, or scroll through their phone without seeing:

THIS JUST IN: BRUCE WAYNE, MULTI-BILLIONAIRE PHILANTHROPIST AND PLAYBOY, CAUGHT IN ROMANTIC RENDEZVOUS WITH... A MAN?

it all started with a photo; a voyeuristic shot that framed you and bruce sitting in one of the restaurants that he'd invested in, holding hands and laughing by the candle light. it was one of the many dates where he closed business for the night for privacy reasons—to keep you safe from the public's eye. and judging from the angle, it was evident that it was one of the employees that had managed to stay back in the building.

to be honest, it was tasteful. nothing scandalous or even remotely explicit, especially if you had to compare to the scandals of men of bruce's status. as much as you felt like your privacy was invaded, you couldn't help but feel relieved when you saw bruce's smile in the photo. the way he looked at you with such doting eyes, his thumb caressing over the bridge between your index and thumb, the plates of food left cold because you were addicted to his company, and vice versa.

it was an intimate moment that was ruined by selfishness—greed.

for a brief moment, you felt... scared. the windows in your apartment were immediately shut and blinded by curtains; the locks in your doors were triple-checked; your passwords were immediately changed to new ones you'd probably forget in the future. you felt eyes on your back, pierced through the walls, watching your every move even if they hadn't.

and as much as you teased bruce about leaving him after your fifteen minutes of fame, you needed him more than ever.

"bruce, what do i—what's happening?""alfred's coming, you're at home, right? i'm talking with my security team right now and—"

it wouldn't be long until people found out who the 'mysterious man' in question was.

in less than an hour, your social media presence had a tenfold increase. photos on your feed received more comments and likes you could ever count. many of them ran with the narrative that you were simply an object of bruce's undisclosed desire for men, his boy toy. and before you knew it, the news outlet began reporting the same, including their own findings of your life.

dating bruce wayne in public included him hugging you as soon as you arrived to his manor. it was a protective instinct that had been brewing since he heard how panicked—how afraid you were—on the phone. while multiple phones rang off the hook, bruce took the time to let you breathe into you, to find a sense of peace as he held you, comforted you with affectionate words in your ear, affectionate touches that rendered you calm and ultimately safe again.

dating bruce wayne in public included bruce addressing his relationship with you in a press conference. it was silly that it had come to this point, but he made sure his feelings regarding how the news outlets had turned a relationship between two men into a media frenzy were known.

"yes, i am in a loving relationship with (M/N)." "no, i am not dating a man for relevancy." "who wears the pants—really? security, let's escort him out, please?" "no, my fiancé is not what those rumors have suggested." "and yes, (M/N) is my fiancé. be kinder, and i ever so might have the fleeting thought to invite you all to my wedding."

dating bruce wayne in public meant that you were advised to keep your answers as vague as possible when you were approached by paparazzis. there were few times where you could escape, but they came in massive groups, bombarding you, and the security team that bruce had hired to protect you, with questions that would guarantee the tabloids massive engagement, but you wouldn't falter.

"ah... yes—he's doing very well, thank you." "oh? my coat? bruce gifted it to me on my birthday a few years ago!" "what do i like... uh, cooking! i make a mean burger—ask bruce yourself!"

and as the public began to know you more, through your timid answers, to the wary and tired smile that only emphasized the dark circles on your face, you were rather... charming? compared to bruce, they've quickly fallen in love with how personal you could be at times. where bruce was always stoic and formal in his answers, you stuttered and answered with a laugh, unexpectedly cracking a joke in between.

it didn't take much interaction before the public realized what made bruce fall in love with a man like you.

dating bruce wayne in public included you becoming quite of a celebrity yourself. alongside bruce's, your day was documented from the very minute you stepped onto a sidewalk and started your day. what was your order at the local coffee shop? what did you like having for lunch? your favorite movie? your favorite thing about bruce?

you were a hot commodity and everyone wanted a piece of you.

though, that never stopped your weekly dates with him. golfing, swimming, hiking, eating; you'd hear the clicks of photos being taken from the shadows, and it was bruce who always held you closer, by the shoulders or by the hand to remind you that you were safe with him.

"they'll get tired of us eventually.""hopefully..."

with him by your side, it wasn't so bad that the camera flashes never failed to blind you whenever you two shared a sweet kiss.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[its-opheliasgarden]

Bayside Terrace View |  A Sims 4 Download (UPDATED FOR RENT)

Nestled in the center of the bustle of Anchorpoint Wharf is Bayside Terrace View. Bayside reflects the perfect blend of San Sequoia's historic fishing roots and vibrant modern downtown. There you'll find 'Bungalow', the family owned café, that has become the iconic and go-to brunch spot for San Sequoia locals. Situated right above is 'The Roxie', a co-op renovated from an old hotel. With serene marina views and premier downtown location, Roxie is the perfect place to call home in San Sequoia.

Lot Type: Residential OR Residential Rental (+ Café/Restaurant) Price: §415,236 +/- Size: 30x20 Packs: See icons below (+ Modern Luxe) Location: Manzanita Terrace, San Sequoia Play Tested: ✅ (not for residential rental) Download (Residential): ⬇️ With CC OR ⬇️ CC Free (.ZIP Files) Download (Rental): ⬇️ With CC OR ⬇️ CC Free (.ZIP Files)

Recommended Mods: These mods are NOT included. If you'd like to use this as a multi-functional lot, I would recommend one of the following mods: (1) Spawn Refresh (@zerbu) / (2) Auto Employees Lot Trait (@littlemssam) / (3) Scarlet Free NPC Hire (@Robin) / (4) Auto Hire NCP on Community Lots (@Zero).

Notes: Enable bb.moveobjects before placing in your game. CC-lite (~25MB) and CC-free (390 kB). You can view more preview photos in these posts: exterior, townhouse, and cafe. See more under the cut!

@mmfinds @maxismatchccworld @pancakesrealty @sssvitlanz (Thank You!)

And finally, it's here! I mean I'm shocked I started building this in March and releasing it in September. Nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy this build and please do tag me if you use it!

See more pics of the apartments as I had fun decorating 4 of the 6 included in this lot. I even created an apartment perfectly staged for 'moving in' gameplay photos!

-d.

Apartment 201

Apartment 202

Apartment 401

Apartment 402

[kinopio-writes]

Hi!!!! I’d like to request Vox and a reader who just refuses to get like new technology at all because they’re like “I don’t wanna waste money when it still works!” Like their phone case could literally be hanging on by a thread and they’d still refuse to get a new one

You don’t have to do this request if you don’t want to, take care of yourself and drink water❤️

A/N: Thank you. I keep forgetting to drink water every day. The only time I remember to drink is whenever I eat. Take care of yourself, too. And I’m the same as the reader you’re describing, lol. I still have an iPhone 6 and it’s still working. The battery drains so fucking fast though.

Warnings: None

———

Vox x Reader who’s a minimalist

• while Vox is someone who owns (I think is) a multi-billionaire company and never had to think of not buying things he needed or wanted, he might agree with you about the money part

• he’s like Grunkle Stan from Gravity Falls or Scrooge McDuck (rich as hell but doesn’t like wasting money)

• but the thing is, he owned technology

• if it were any other stuff, he would be okay with it (it’s your money, after all. You do you)

• but it’s literally what his brand is built around

• he could just…give you a new one

• “No! I don’t want a new one.”

• he’d take offense to that

• because he already put all of your personal information in, from the apps you downloaded to your photos and, heck, your passwords, too

• and he did all of that without syncing it with your old phone (yeah, he knows everything—it’s not creepy at all)

• he knew you were complaining about the darn thing and decided to give you one

• so…why didn’t you want it???

• “Because it still works.”

• he’d just give you the deadest pan (not a word) ever

• your phone was old as hell, so the battery is pretty chemically fucked up

• it was also a device that he no longer puts any new updates in (because everyone else already moved on from it), so your phone was pretty outdated

• like, extremely outdated

• all of which meant that there would be some slight difficulty with communication

• and this man thrives from Facetiming you (he’s a busy guy)

• there would probably be more times you Facetime him than actually seeing him in person (assuming you don’t live with him. He probably has cameras there regardless)

• you’d keep complaining about how he keeps bugging out after a certain time has passed in the call or how it’s already gone down to 5% or how your phone is overheating because you’re charging it while calling him or how it’s just searing hot in general every time you use it—speaking from personal experience, lol

• it’s the reason why he decided to give you a new phone (he wanted longer calls without you having to hang up every 20 minutes because you needed to charge it)

• but noooo—your stubborn ass still insisted on using it because ‘it’s still working’

• ...yeah, no, he’s not taking any of that shit

• he’s still going to give it to you whether you like it or not

• his proposition is that, okay, you can use your old phone, but you have to use the new one for calls

• that’s all he’s asking for, really

[faerycross]

a little snippet from the fic i'm working on. enjoy :)

“You okay there, Rem?”, Peter asks.

“Fine, why?”, he brings the cigarette to his lips. He still hasn’t moved his eyes.

“It looks like you’re eye-fucking him from across the room.”

“Well, that’s because I am.”

James almost spits his beer, then chokes on it. That manages to bring Remus’ attention back on him. He starts patting his back, and he’s anything but gentle.

“I’m fine, fucking hell!”, if he’s not gonna choke, he’s sure gonna have a few broken ribs.

“Easy there, Jamie. Don’t get too excited, it’s just a beer”, Remus dares to say. James glares at him.

“Jesus James, I didn’t take you for such a prude.”

“Just because I’m not deprived like you, it doesn’t mean I’m a prude”, he deadpans.

“Don’t act so innocent, it’s not like you were looking at his brother any differently the other day.” It’s Peter’s turn to choke on their beer.

“What?”, he almost shouts. “Our Jamie? Experiencing the feeling of lust? And I missed it?”, and they're pouting. The bastard is fucking pouting.

“First of all, fuck you”, James points at Remus. “Secondly, no. I wasn’t lusting after Sirius Black’s brother. And thirdly, it was a fucking photo, that would be weird.”

“Oh yes, because the multi-billionaire porn industry is definitely not based precisely on that”, Remus says, unimpressed.

___________

this fic is currently a work in progress, but i might start publishing it very soon. my ao3 account is faerycross. for any update, see the pinned post on my profile.

UPDATE: i started posting it :)))

[hazelnutsforellie]

pose for me | e. williams ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

PAIRING— ellie williams x afab!reader

SUMMARY— ellie finds a polaroid camera while on patrol and asks you to model for her.

WARNINGS— smut [18+], language, taking nude photos, established relationship, fluff, implied consent, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), top!ellie, bottom!reader, multi-orgasm [2], nipple play, praise, dirty talk, fingering (r rec), oral (r rec), face riding, the works, just ellie wanting to please reader, not proofread.

WC— 2.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE— i'm not sure if anyone has already come up with this idea but i couldn't hold myself back. there's not much build-up but i tried to make it lengthy xx enjoy!

Despite finally having an off day from patrol, you couldn't help but miss it. Not patrol itself, but being with your girlfriend, Ellie. Sure, you enjoy time away from each other every now and then, but you had to admit that you were dependent on Ellie's company.

You seemed to have lost track of time, your head spinning in the direction of Ellie's door when you heard the knob squeak. It was louder than the music you had playing in the background, startling you as you sat on her bed, drawing in your sketchpad. You had your own place, but most of your nights were spent in Ellie's makeshift home in Joel's backyard.

"Hey," you warmly greeted the auburn as she made her way inside, closing the door behind her. You noticed a peculiar glint in her eyes, a gentle smirk playing on her enticing lips. "What's that look for?"

"I have a surprise," Ellie hinted, not fully explaining herself. You hummed, your eyes narrowing at her in curiosity as she pulled her backpack off her shoulders, tossing it onto the bed beside you. You folded your sketchpad closed, tossing it on the bed on your other side, along with your pencil.

"Go on," you smiled, your hands folding in your lap. Ellie thought you were so cute, so innocent. Ellie pulled her jacket off, tossing it on her desk chair before standing in front of you, her knees hitting the bed. She leaned in with her eyes closed, expecting you to reciprocate her greetings kiss, to which you did. "You're killing me now, spit it out."

Ellie leaned over to unzip her backpack and moved it to the floor after pulling out an old polaroid camera. Your eyebrows raised at the object, knowing of polaroid cameras but never seeing one before.

"Found this while scavenging a house," she explained, examining the front of it. "I'm sure its owner won't mind."

You playfully rolled your eyes at Ellie's humor, smiling, "That's quite a find. Does it work?"

"It does, actually. I took a picture of Jesse. Look," Ellie pulled a polaroid picture of Jesse out of her back pocket, angling it so you both could see it. He was clearly caught off guard, looking confused as hell. You stifled a laugh, which made Ellie roll her eyes before tossing the picture to the side. "Anyway... I was wondering..."

Ellie would be lying if she said she didn't have rather indecent thoughts her entire way back from patrol after finding the camera. Immediately, in her nature, she thought of you, which then further progressed into... rather mature thoughts.

"Wondering..." you trailed off to mock her, but she ignored you to gather her words. She wasn't sure how to ask you, let alone bring up that she wants to take provocative pictures of you for her to keep.

"Pose for me," she said nonchalantly, shifting her weight onto her right heel as she eyed your form. She took in your appearance, admiring your loose sweatpants and white wifebeater tank. She could see your hardened nipples piercing against your tank, which only made her want to say fuck it to the camera.

You were slightly caught off guard, having expected her to ask you a question, but it was more of a suggestion.

"Pose? Or... pose?" you inquired, unable to hold back a teasing smile, which Ellie returned. You both quickly reached the same page, your eyes locking with hers as your thumbs hooked beneath the waistband of your sweatpants to ease them off your form.

Ellie's gaze was solid, her eyes blowing with excitement as she watched you tease her. She was surprised that you were so willing, but then again, you would do anything she asked and she knew that. She wouldn't ask you to do anything that would put you in an uncomfortable position, and that is why you had so much trust in her. You finally tossed your pants to the floor, regaining her attention.

"Want one with my shirt on?" you innocently asked, looking up at her as you rearranged your sitting position to sit on your knees. You noticed Ellie's jaw clench as her eyes danced up your thighs before finally reaching your face.

She gently gripped your chin with her thumb and index finger, pulling you in for a kiss before saying, "Who could say no to that?"

Your lips curled into a smile as Ellie took a step back, turning on the camera. She raised the camera to her face, peeking through the lens with one eye while she closed the other.

"Just like that, baby."

You obliged, continuing to sit on the back of your legs, your knees pressing against the bedding. You tilted your head to the side, slightly widening your legs apart with an innocent smile, knowing that Ellie was going to have a hard time holding herself back much longer.

Ellie took a sharp intake of breath, pressing the button on the camera. The flash illuminated her room for a split second before the polaroid was ejected from the front of the camera. She murmured, "So beautiful."

"How does it look?" you asked, placing your right hand on the bed in front of you to stabilize yourself before leaning forward.

"It won't show up just yet," Ellie explained, showing you the blank polaroid before gently placing it on her nightstand. "We'll have to wait until after."

"After what?" you asked, to which you received no answer other than Ellie's damned smile. Ellie circled the bed until she was on the other side, directly behind you. You didn't break eye contact until she was too far behind you, not wanting to break your position. The tension was thick, a known tension that was bound to be broken at any point.

As Ellie walked, her eyes trailed from your face, to your shoulders, all the way down your body until they landed on your cheeky panties. Ellie hummed in satisfaction, her finger grazing your skin before hooking onto the hem of them, dragging her finger across the thin strap.

Your breath hitched in your throat, the feeling of her finger grazing your skin causing you to clench around nothing. You knew how it was going to end, awaiting Ellie's orders.

"Bend back a little," Ellie tenderly ordered, watching as you arched your back to oblige, still using the space in front of you to stabilize yourself. Her finger released from your panties, dragging up your spine until she reached your midback, applying pressure with her hand to help you.

"Oh my god, so fucking perfect," Ellie admired to herself. You then heard the click of the button being pressed on the camera, followed by a bright flash. You smirked to yourself, knowing that Ellie was loving every second. You heard the sound of the camera and polaroid picture hitting the bed beside you, and as you tried to lean back up, you were stopped by Ellie's hand remaining on your back, firmly holding you down.

Before you could utter a word, Ellie's fingers tenderly glided down your clothed slit, a faint chuckle escaping her throat. She noticed the dampness, slowly tugging your panties to the side to expose your sticky folds.

"Seems you're enjoying this," she teased, the warmth of her fingers ghosting your slit nearly causing you to gasp. "Maybe even a little more than me."

You couldn't try to deny it, even if you wanted to. How could you possibly remain calm when your girlfriend practically admitted to you that she wanted such photos, let alone wanted to take them herself? The way Ellie looks at you, at all of you, it drives you mad. In a good way.

"Fuck," You whimpered, ducking your head down. Any touch from your girlfriend would have you melting between her fingers.

"You want me to touch you, sweetheart?" Ellie purred from behind you, and you had to hold yourself back from frantically begging for it. A waft of cool air brushed against your sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling a gasp from your lips.

"Yes," You nearly whined, your itch for her touch causing you to be impatient. Ellie smirked to herself, pulling your panties off your lower half. You felt the tip of her fingers glide down between your folds before slowly sinking them into you, leading you to let out a soft moan from the contact. Her other hand was still firmly placed on your lower back, now using it to her advantage to hold you down against her hand.

"Fuck," Ellie drew out a groan, feeling your warmth hugging around her fingers perfectly. The way her fingers slid in with ease led her to instantly curl them, unable to hold herself back. The sounds of your slick were not helping either, causing Ellie's jaw to hang slightly agape, heavy breaths falling from her lips. Her fingers curling inside you pulled another moan loud from you, and at this point, you looked pitiful.

Ellie had barely touched you, and to see you so eager was making it difficult for her to remain composed. Ellie wanted nothing other than to flip you over and take you, but she didn't want to rush your pleasure.

"Does that feel good, babe?" she cooed from behind you, earning a desperate "mhm" in response as her fingers thrusted into you at an even pace. "Yeah?"

"Yes, yes!" you answered eagerly, knowing that she would've pried out a verbal response one way or another. "Feels s-so good--"

Even though she couldn't see your face, you were very verbally responsive. Your moans grew louder as the pace of Ellie's fingers grew faster, and much harder. Ellie wanted to see you struggle a response, lightly biting her bottom lip as she watched you quiver.

"Take this off," Ellie barely uttered, pushing the back of your tank up your spine. You obliged her order, using one hand to pull it off while you used the other to continue stabilizing yourself. You threw it elsewhere, leaning down to stabilize yourself on your forearms instead, gripping the bedsheets for support.

Ellie continued to skillfully pump her fingers, your wetness coating her hand as well as her toned forearm from how vigorous her thrusts were. With her free hand, Ellie began palming your left breast and press wet kisses on your lower back, expanding up your spine as she massaged your sensitive peak.

"Just like that, just like that!" you cried, your grip on the sheets tightening to the point where your knuckles were turning white. You could feel the coil within your lower stomach beginning to tighten, knowing you were inches away from your release. Ellie knew it, too. She could tell you were close in many ways, especially by the way you frequently clenched around her fingers, sucking them in further.

"Are you close? Hm?" she purred, her lips ghosting your ear from behind you as she spoke.

"Mhm," you hummed with a nod, feeling your thighs begin to tremble. Ellie relished in the sounds of your moans growing louder and louder, nearly pornographic as her fingertips brushed your sweet spot, pushing you over the edge. "F-fuck, I'm coming!"

Your warning was Ellie's sign to continue with the same pace, watching your orgasm crash over you as you faltered against the bed, chest heaving as you clenched around her fingers subconsciously.

"That's right, baby, come for me," Ellie praised, working you through your orgasm. Once you seemed to have caught your breath, Ellie slowly pulled her fingers out of you, and you could faintly hear a pop sound come from her mouth as she sucked them clean. "So sweet."

You turned around and sat up, finally facing Ellie as your legs continued to shake. Your eyes met hers, noticing her eyes were dark and blown with lust. Her lips were slightly wet from previously sucking her fingers, small beads of sweat trailing down her temples.

You reached out for her with your hand, batting your lashes the way she likes it. Cute and innocent, only for her.

"Your turn," you said, knowing that it was a known practice for Ellie to go after you. What surprised you, though, was that Ellie merely shook her head, kicking her boots off so she could join you on the bed.

"No, I'm not done," she said, climbing onto the bed to lay on her side of it. She reached toward you, grabbing your waist. "Sit on my face."

"Wha-- Ellie," you attempted to protest, her hands gripping your thighs to pull you toward her. Not that you would turn down such an offer, you just didn't want to skip her turn. Because of this, your words were contradictory to your actions as you followed her movements, allowing her to move you onto her lap.

"I just want to make you feel good, sweetheart," Ellie convinced you, her fingers delicately grazing your jaw as she cupped your cheek. "Is that okay?"

You nodded, melting under her stare once again. Ellie leaned in to capture your lips with hers, exchanging a wet kiss before she laid down and began pulling on your thighs, urging you toward her face.

Ellie didn't waste any time dipping her tongue between your folds, gathering your fluids before you could fully rest against her face. Her arms tightly wrapped around the top of your thighs, pulling them down to give herself more access, if it were even possible.

"Oh f-fuck!" you cried, your hands flying to grip her white headboard to hold yourself up. Ellie smiled against your skin, swirling her tongue against your sensitive hole once more before dragging her tongue up to your swollen clit, closing her lips to gently suck. Her eyes never left your face, watching it contort in pleasure.

"Shit, baby," you moaned, your left hand flying to her auburn locks while the other remained on the headboard. Before you knew it, you felt another orgasm quickly approaching. The overstimulation seemed to only enhance what you were feeling mere minutes prior.

Ellie continued to suckle on your bundle of nerves, coating it in her saliva as her fingernails dug into your thighs, holding you against her. She could feel you beginning to tremble again, dipping her tongue back between your folds.

You tipped your head back, not having a care in the world for how loud you were being. Ellie didn't care either, in fact, she loved it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the polaroid camera, a sly smile spreading across your agape lips.

As you continued to ride her mouth, you let go of Ellie's hair and leaned over to grab the camera, holding it up to your face to take a picture of her. You peered into the viewfinder, seeing her looking right into the lens, her mouth visibly attached to your core. All you could see was your lower stomach and her face from the nose up, followed by a flash after you snapped the picture.

Ellie's eye contact was edging you toward the edge, along with her moans against your core that sent vibrations up your spine. You knew you weren't going to last much longer, still using her headboard as leverage as you grinded your hips forward, feeling Ellie's nose ghost your clit with each thrust.

"I-I'm gonna come," you whimpered, staring down at your girlfriend while she absolutely devoured every drop you could spare. In Ellie's eyes, you were nothing less than captivating... legs trembling, pitiful moans, desperately forcing yourself onto her to reach your release.

Ellie didn't need a warning, fully knowing that you were seconds away from your second orgasm. Knowing this, she began giving all of her attention to your swollen clit, softly suckling on it.

"Oh, oh, oh-- fuck!"

A loud string of moans fell from your lips as your second orgasm crashed into you, your thighs tightening around Ellie's face. Ellie loudly moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to tremble even more. Ellie refused to waste a drop, lapping at your hole as you came down from your high.

You used the headboard and the pillow beneath Ellie's head as leverage to shift from her face to her lap, leaning down to capture her lips into a passionate kiss. Her lips, cheeks, and chin were glistening from her saliva and your fluids, and you attempted to speak, but nothing came.

"Tired?" Ellie smiled, her hands finding your waist to roll you onto your side of the bed as gentle as possible.

You nodded in response, your lashes fluttering rapidly as you tried to keep your eyes open. Two orgasms on top of your exhaustion only pushed you closer to a slumber.

"Come here," Ellie softly murmured, arms open and inviting. You tucked your back into Ellie's chest, holding her hand after she wrapped her arm around your waist.

"What about your turn?" you asked, your voice growing quieter the more you spoke. Ellie softly smiled against your ear, pressing a gentle peck on the shell of it.

"Another time."

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Three

Summary:

Astarion surprises you by inviting you to his place... for a real date? The evening doesn't go as expected when you uncover the darkness in his past.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.4k Tags/Warnings: mentions of Astarion's past, vampire bites, blood drinking, blow job, p in v sex, fluff with a very small side of angst, Shadowheart being a bit of a manic pixie dream best friend

Since y'all are insistent on encouraging my worst tendencies, here, have the longest single thing I've ever written. I think about Professor Astarion at all waking (and sleeping at this point) hours. I have other things planned, I will eventually write something else, I promise. But also... this one is now becoming a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. I'm half-considering rewriting the first few chapters so it's in third-person? I don't know though, let me know what you think.

H1ghVoltage and Zaria were both invaluable betas for this one, I appreciate you both so much. And Zaria for always providing the most perfect screenshots at the drop of a hat. This literally would not exist without you.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Excuse me? The one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she tucks her feet underneath her, holding up her wine glass so it doesn’t spill. The two of you met while moving into adjacent apartments a few years prior; it turned out you had both just been hired at the university, her at the Divinity School and you at the College of Arts and Sciences. Since then you’ve become fast friends, and you’re finally filling her in on all of the details of the whirlwind that has been the past few days. You hide your chagrin behind a sip of wine.

“Okay, listen, yes, but hear me out. He looks like this.” You hold out your phone and show her the English department faculty page.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. “Okay, you didn’t tell me that.” 

“I think I was in denial,” you whine as you drop your head onto the couch cushion. “I focused on how much of an asshole he is to distract me from how hot he is.”

“And now? Will you see him again?” She tosses your phone at your feet and you lift your gaze.

“I don’t know? He made a joke about having sex in my office but I don’t think he actually meant it.” You cast a sidelong glance at Shadowheart, trying to gauge her expression.

“Scandalous,” she smiles into the rim of her glass before taking a long sip. You pick up your phone, looking at his portrait. It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

You drop your phone again and angrily sip at your wine, letting the dry red flood over your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. You notice Shadowheart eyeing you suspiciously.

“Do you want to?” she asks, and you put your glass onto the coffee table and curl your knees into your chest further.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” you add under your breath, and Shadowheart looks at you salaciously as your cheeks flush. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” she carefully asks. You glare at her, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. You drop your less-than-menacing expression and cover your face in your hands. You let out an exasperated sigh before suddenly gasping and looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Nine hells, did I tell you what else happened? At least one student knows. I saw her coming out of his office and she made some comment about ‘We all see how you look at him.’” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion once again.

“Well, I suppose that answers your question, at least,” Shadowheart says reassuringly, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean if you like him enough that your students are noticing, then you have to pursue him. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll break up and you can go back to hating him.” She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described a literal nightmare.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” you gape at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” she grins at you, and her teeth are tinged purple from the wine. You kick your foot out at her.

“Man, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” you tease and she groans.

“Listen, you just told me that you got railed twice in three days, it’s not that good out here for most of us.” Now it’s her turn to cover her face and you laugh. You pick up your wine and stretch your legs out to nudge Shadowheart’s calf.

“Who knows, maybe there’s some hot chick in the English department that he can hook you up with.” She pushes your leg back and rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

You have no idea what to expect when you inevitably run into Astarion the next day. You're tempted to just work from home since you don’t have any classes, but you have another damn season selection committee meeting that you can't miss, and you'd rather be around for students to drop in if they need to. 

You're on your way to the bathroom at the end of the day when you finally see him. You almost don't, at first, since you're looking down at your phone and you stop short of barrelling into him. You lock eyes and smile politely, then step to your left just as he steps to his right. You two share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes you by your shoulders and moves you to the side. You give him a thankful grin and quickly move past, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way your arms tingle where he touched you.

You get to the bathroom and close the door behind you, leaning against it to brace yourself. Your stomach is roiling, though whether it was from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, you can't quite tell. You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cool water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to will yourself into stoicism. It's a losing battle as the image of him having you bent over the sink pops into your mind. You shake your head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He’s pressed you up against the bathroom door and he's got your wrists pinned together above your head.

No, stop, you scold yourself. But the second you banish that image another one comes flooding in, your leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking your clit with his fingers curled inside you.

You're dizzy with the mental image and you try to wrest it from your mind. You focus on the visual stimuli around you, the white tile, the fluorescent lights, the small blue stain beneath the soap dispenser. Eventually you find yourself back in your body and you massage your temples, trying to focus. 

Your head is still reeling slightly as you make your way back to your office. You unlock the door, completely unaware of his presence behind you until you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You yelp and in an instant he’s towering over you with your back up against the wall. 

“Almighty gods, Astarion,” you swear breathlessly, your heart pounding more from the scare than the proximity for once. The proximity doesn’t help, however, when he tilts your chin with his knuckle and smiles devilishly. 

“Come to my place, let me cook you dinner,” he purrs, and your breath quickens. But when his words finally break through the seductive tone, something in your brain stops.

“Wait, cook? Can you- do you even- how-” You still haven’t fully recovered and your mouth struggles to form words. His smile widens and you know he’s enjoying watching you splutter.

“What, do you think in all of my 350 years I've never bedded a mortal? Besides,” he trails his hand down your neck and strokes it gently with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine, “I have other ways of getting my fill.”

You instinctively tilt your head for him, almost like you’re inviting him to bite right here and now. You manage to recoup your senses just enough to quip, “I’m sure you have plenty of experience luring cute mortals back to your place.”

You think you see his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then?” He pulls away and adjusts his glasses, his fingers sliding into his hair. You nod, not trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and tucks it into the neckline of your shirt, a move that would have been unbearably corny coming from anyone else.

“See you then… lover.” He winks and glides out of the room as silently as he came in. You take a breath to steady yourself, a voice in the back of your head grumbling because of how much he has you wrapped around his finger. But admittedly, he seemed equally flustered when you almost plowed into him a few minutes ago.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

You pull the piece of paper out to see an address, date, and time. Tomorrow at 7. 

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

Now you just need to occupy yourself for the next 26 hours and not completely lose your nerve.

***

Occupying yourself isn’t terribly difficult with Shadowheart around. She keeps you busy all day with various errands, shopping, anything to keep you from spiraling.

Nevertheless, when it’s finally time to get dressed, you find yourself overthinking every tiny element. You stand frozen in front of your open underwear drawer trying to decide between the black lace or the pink satin.

“Shadowheeeaaaarrrrrtttt,” you call out to her in the other room. She pops her head in and gives you a pitying smile as she sees your anxiety-ridden face.

“Alright, sit, let me help,” she clinks her glass down on your dresser and nudges you until you’re sitting on your bed, fidgeting with the belt of your robe. 

“Black lace, it’s sexier,” she says sagely, tossing the panties at you and you slide them on under your robe. She pulls the plaid skirt out of the shopping bag and flings it onto the bed. 

“Put that on because we both agreed it’s adorable. It might be warm enough to go without tights?” she muses, then glances at you mischievously. “And since he has a track record of destroying those, maybe go with these instead.” She throws a pair of thigh highs at you and they hit you in the face. You wrinkle your nose.

“Careful,” you warn, but she ignores you. She floats over to your closet and sifts through the hangers. She pulls out a top, shifts her gaze between you and the garment a few times, then drops it on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulls out a blousy cardigan, throwing it on the bed next to you.

“Don’t put that on yet, I’ll be right back.” She disappears before you can say anything. You’re left sitting on your bed in just your bra and skirt, and you rub your feet together with a restless energy.

Shadowheart returns just a few minutes later holding a lacy top that reads more as lingerie than an actual shirt. She returns your skeptical frown with a giant grin.

“Shade, I'm not wearing that,” you gripe, and she throws it in your face.

“Put it on before you judge,” she chides in response, and you roll your eyes. 

“Fine, but it probably won't fit,” you say as you take off your bra and don the sheer v-neck cami. Other than straining around your chest slightly, the fit is fine. You put on the oversized cardigan over it and look at the full effect in your floor length mirror.

“See, told you,” she says smugly as you admire your reflection. And it's true, the underwear-as-outerwear really does bring the look from glorified schoolgirl cosplay into something a bit more refined. You give her a disgruntled sidelong glance but otherwise say nothing.

“Alright, get going. Go put your shoes on and chase that Ph D.” She pushes you out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment. “Don't worry about me, I'll be here drinking your wine and masturbating all by myself while you get fucked through the end of the tenday.”

You slip on your black suede ankle boots and pleadingly look at Shadowheart one more time. You're still not convinced that this whole thing isn’t just a trip into the lion’s den.

“Go! I look forward to hearing all the gory details,” she says and plants a smooch on your cheek. She then smacks your ass as you head out the door, your yelp earning a satisfied smirk.

Sure enough, when you find yourself outside his apartment door, you can feel your cold feet catching up with you. You're about to take out your phone and text Shadowheart that you're going to leave when his door opens.

“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, and the syrup in his voice makes your mouth go dry. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up and the first few buttons are undone, leaving his collarbone exposed. The black vest tapers in his waist and flows seamlessly into his well-tailored trousers. But the first thing you notice is his glasses.

“Your glasses are different,” you blurt, internally cursing your bluntness. His eyebrows pop up above the thicker plastic frames.

“Is that a problem?” he asks without a hint of malice in his voice. You blush and quickly shake your head.

“No I- I like them. They look good,” you stutter, looking away from the heat of his gaze. He smiles and takes your hand almost like he's leading you in a courtly dance, pulling you inside.

You look around his apartment, noticing the similarities to the hominess of his office. Big overfull bookshelves, warm-lit lamps dotted around the space, papers and other junk littered across every surface. It still surprises you that he doesn’t keep a tidy space, but at the same time you find it oddly charming.

You spot a hairless cat sitting on some mail on a table in the corner, delicately licking its paw. 

“Aww, who’s this?” You approach the cat, holding out your hand for it to sniff. It hisses in response and you take a step back.

“That's His Majesty, and you're best to respect his wishes,” Astarion calls from the kitchen.

“You named your cat His Majesty?” you ask, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

“No, he named himself His Majesty,” he replies, returning from the kitchen with a spoonful of risotto. “Taste,” he commands and you obediently open your mouth. The steaming food coats your tongue with a tangy, savory taste. You nod at him, barely trusting yourself to speak. It tastes incredible.

You turn back to His Majesty, and you notice an empty potion of animal speaking tipped on its side near him.

“Well I'll just admire such a handsome creature from a distance, then,” you say and His Majesty preens slightly. You can hear a hum of approval from Astarion as he retreats back into the kitchen.

This man is full of contradictions. Pristine, clean cut outward appearance with a cluttered, disorganized space. Cool and disaffected, but he loves his cat enough to use potions to communicate with him. He doesn't need to eat, but somehow he’s an incredible cook? You frown to yourself; it feels like something doesn't add up.

You start scanning one of the bookshelves, wondering what else you can learn about him. If there was an organizational system, it wasn't clear. 48 Laws of Power, History of Modern Sexuality, On the Genealogy of Morality, Gender Trouble… Ayn Rand sitting next to Octavia Butler?

What the fuck does he like?

“How is my collection of books holding up in your estimation?” Astarion’s sudden presence behind you makes you jump. He presses a wine glass into your hand and ghosts his lips across the crook of your neck, sending a swath of goosebumps down your arms.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely delicious?” he murmurs into your skin, and you can already feel yourself getting lightheaded.

“You're one to talk,” you say on a dizzied exhale, and the breath from his laugh tickles your shoulder. He puts his hands on your waist, running a finger along the inside of the waistband of your skirt. He gives it a gentle tug and you unconsciously move in the direction he’s pulling.

“Come eat,” he says, guiding you to a table with one place setting. You sit, feeling awkward as he sits across from you, a wine glass in his hand.

“Are you just going to watch me eat?” you laugh nervously. He smiles into the glass, glancing at you above the rectangular frames sliding down his nose.

“Well if you're insistent, I can have my dinner as well.” He's not subtle about leering at your neck, sparking a flicker of heat in your belly. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the risotto, which somehow tastes even better than what he fed you before.

“So what do you experience when you have… food?” you ask, trying to shift his attention off you eating. He looks up as he thinks, and you find your gaze tracing his jawline.

“It’s… sour. Like it’s spoiled. But when something is cooked well, and with high quality ingredients, it’s more bearable.”

You look down at your food, the taste dancing across your palette. It's certainly better than something you could make for yourself. But you know so little about cooking techniques besides the basics that you don’t know what the difference would even be.

“And you're drinking wine. What does that taste like?” You try not to stare at the dark red liquid collecting on his lips, but it’s hard not to when his tongue darts out to lick it up.

“Alcohol has a higher threshold for quality, so it's generally more palatable. It usually means a higher budget for these things, but it's not as though I'm spending much on groceries.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you can't read his expression. 

“Well go on,” he continues, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Ask the question that you really want to ask.” Your heart starts beating a little faster and he smirks. Gods, you really hate that he can read you like that. It would be nice to keep at least one emotion private.

“What does blood taste like?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's clear that he hears you. His smile widens just enough to show off his fangs.

“It depends on the person,” he replies just as casually as if you had asked him about his taste in music. “Some are sweeter, like a nice rich port, while others have a bit of a burn, like whiskey. However, you?” He places his glass on the table and stands, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He crosses behind your chair and sweeps your hair to the side, lasciviously inhaling your scent behind your ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Yours is smooth with a hint of spice, like a fine aged brandy. But the finish has an addictive quality, like absinthe.” He nips lightly at the base of your neck without breaking skin.

“Such pretty words,” you exhale on a breathy moan, reaching a hand up behind you and running your fingers through his hair, pulling him toward you ever so slightly.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes into your ear, and you arch your back in your seat, panting. You can barely get out the “yes” before he sweeps you out of the chair and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you on the counter and pressing your knees apart with his torso. You whine and the cool tile pressing into your ass reminds you of his touch. He slides one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

The initial pain surprises you every time, and your yelp is followed by his satisfied groan. You grip the back of his neck as he drinks, and you can feel the muscles working with each swallow. The feeling of your blood coursing through both of your bodies gets you high, knowing it's your blood that flushes his lips, cheeks, and ears. It's your blood flowing to his cock. The reminder of it makes you clench instinctively.

He pulls away just as you're teetering on the edge of passing out. He’s always panting after he feeds, his glasses slightly askew and a ravenous look in his eye that makes your mouth water. You pull him into a heated kiss, the metallic tang on his lips becoming a sensory reminder of the post-feeding bliss. 

You pull him closer with your feet, aching just to feel him pressed against you. Your hands scramble against his back, tugging at his collared shirt. He’s wearing far too many layers and he hasn’t even blessed you with the sight of his gorgeous sculpted chest yet. 

You slide a hand into the back of his collar, desperate for his skin, when your fingers brush over thick raised scar tissue. He pulls back faster than you do and your hands immediately go to cover your mouth.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t–” you begin but the pained look in his eye makes you stop short.

“No it's… it's fine. I've had those for a very long time. I… ah…” he stutters, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably, and you've never seen him so flummoxed.

“What are they from?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You're about to retract, tell him he doesn't need to answer, when he speaks quietly.

“They're from… the man who turned me. He kept me as a slave for 200 years. It’s something written in infernal, but I never found out what it said. And his death ensured I never would.” He speaks while looking down at the floor, his distant gaze indicating that he's somewhere else entirely.

“Astarion…” you breathe, and you cup his face in your hands. He smirks and snakes his arms around your waist; the mask is back on.

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he says with a composed smile, “it was a very long time ago. I’m more concerned with tonight.” He moves to kiss your neck again but you put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No- well, I mean yes to tonight, but… let me take care of you,” you say softly, and his careful expression slips again.

“I- well if that’s what you want.” He crinkles his brow, unsure of what to make of your proposal.

“Is it what you want?” You stroke his cheek, and it suddenly feels like this is an entirely different man standing in front of you. Hesitant, vulnerable, his usual swaggering confidence replaced with an uncertain tenderness that makes your heart pound in a way that feels wholly unfamiliar with him.

“I’m not sure,” he says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” you offer quickly, “we can just fuck up against a wall or something.” The joke breaks the tension and he lets out a little giggle.

“What do you have in mind?” He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and you ease off the counter and gently nudge him backwards toward his bedroom. He follows your lead, his doubtful look shifting into something of excitement and mischief. You guide him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and you push him to sit. 

You straddle his lap and run your fingers through his silvery curls. You kiss along his jawline and down his neck, placing a particularly tender kiss on his bite scar. He exhales heavily, sliding his hands up your thighs and resting them on your lower back.

You begin carefully unbuttoning his vest, followed by his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants. You slide it down his shoulders and onto the bed behind him, letting your warm hands run over the cool planes of his skin. His eyes follow your movements carefully and you take your time, tracing over every divet, every freckle and mole. You delight in his gasp when your fingers dance over his navel and down to his belt buckle.

You slip off his lap and drop between his legs, your hands continuing their journey along his hips. You plant increasingly hungry kisses above his waistband as you remove his belt and unzip his pants. He leans back on his hands as his breathing quickens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

You’re struck with the irony that the last time you were between Astarion’s legs like this it was to get revenge, to make him feel flustered and speechless the way he always does to you. Now you have him, flustered and speechless, and all you want is to worship him, make him feel warm and safe.

You slide his pants down under his ass, pulling them all the way off so he’s sitting on his bed fully nude. You run your lips along his inner thigh as you palm his growing erection. 

“Ah- wait,” he stammers and you immediately look up and pull back.

“Yes?” you ask, frozen by the fear that you’ve gone too far.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, nudging your cardigan off your shoulder. “All of you.”

It’s hard to believe that someone sitting naked in front of you can make you feel so exposed. You shiver as you drop the cardigan off your back, the sudden exposure to cool air making your nipples poke through the lacy top that Shadowheart gave you. You stand and he watches intently as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. His expression gives little away, but his cock doesn’t. By the time you’ve removed the black panties, thigh highs, and cami, it stands at full attention. His knees squeeze around your legs and his arms pull you in close to him, pressing his nose against your belly. You card your fingers through his hair and down to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

“Better?” you breathe, and he nods, his eyes round and wide. You bend down to kiss him, slow and languid, before dropping to your knees again. When you pull away his mouth stays open, suspended in the shape of your kiss.

You settle between his knees and lightly kiss the head of his dick. You flick your gaze upward, monitoring his expression as you lazily run your fingers along his shaft. His glasses balance on the tip of his nose as he looks down at you, transfixed by your ministrations. You open your lips slightly, not quite taking him into your mouth yet as you softly cup his balls in your hand. You can hear his breath growing ragged, and he rewards you with an almost inaudible moan when your tongue finally wets his cock.

You wrap your lips around his tip, gently working the underside with your tongue. You run your hands up his thighs, squeezing his hips as they buck into you. You take more of him in, the warmth of your mouth contrasting with the cool, sensitive skin. He groans and tangles his fingers in your hair, a gesture that feels closer to petting than pulling.

You pull your mouth off his cock, wrapping your hand around the now slick shaft. You run your thumb along the slit, and his responding shutter makes you smile.

“Ah- enjoying yourself?” he murmurs, unable to keep his voice steady. You look up at him and drag your tongue along his entire length.

“I am, are you?” you hum, taking him back into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. His leg quivers beside you, his toes curling inward.

“Mmph,” he grunts in assent, his hand twisting into your hair a little more. You slip your hands under his thighs and slide your mouth further down, letting him fill you up. His hips jerk, wanting to thrust into you, and you relax your jaw to let him. His little pants and disjointed moans send a jolt of heat down to your core, and you can feel yourself becoming wet with desire for him. 

You reach down and slip your middle finger between your slick folds, your groan vibrating into him. He hisses and pulls you off his cock and into a fierce kiss. The two of you tumble backwards onto the bed, your hair encircling you like a curtain. You press your bodies together, the smoldering heat spreading into a raging wildfire. He lines himself up with your entrance as you continue your desperate assault on his lips. He slides in with ease and your cry into his mouth accompanies him bottoming out. 

You push yourself up, bracing yourself on his chest as you grind into him. He plants his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your hair cascading down the length of your back. You increase the pace of your rolling hips, each breath growing more voiced as you approach your peak. 

“Oh gods, Astarion,” you babble, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He realizes you’re getting close, he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tight. He latches onto your nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking to send your pleasure to staggering heights. You arch your back into him as your arms hook over his shoulders, brushing your hands against those awful scars. Your hands splay across his back as if to say no one will ever hurt you like that again. 

You pull his face to yours so that you can taste his lips as you crash over the edge. The kiss is broken up by your cries and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grunts in time with his pulsing seed. You stay still and connected as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow and finally settle. The only noise left in the room is both of your heavy panting, and the telltale sound of just your heart pounding.

His hands slide down your back as you carefully pull yourself off him and you shiver as his now-soft cock falls out of you. You kneel next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he reaches over to stroke your jaw.

“Thank you,” he hums softly, and you press another sweet kiss to his neck. His scar.

After a moment you let out a contented sigh, then you say, “Well, I should probably gather my things and go, then.” You begin to stand to dress, but his hand closes around your wrist. You turn to him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Or you could… stay. If you want.” He looks up at you through smudged and sweaty glasses and a smile tugs at your lips.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you watch him shift uncomfortably with a question that he’s not used to answering.

“I want…” he begins, hesitant. “I want to watch last year’s Globe production of Much Ado About Nothing with you. You said you like that one, right?” Your ears grow hot as you realize the extent to which he actually paid attention to you, even before you were sleeping together.

“I do, yeah. One of his best,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you repeat his words back to him. That interaction feels like it was eons ago, when in fact it was less than a tenday. 

He smirks, some of his confident charm seeping back into his demeanor. He scoots back on the bed until he’s resting against the headboard, and then he reaches out to you, inviting you to curl in next to him. You oblige, and he turns on the TV across from the bed, pulling up the pro-shot. You sink in next to him, appreciating how his chest cools your flushed cheek.

A single word gnaws at the back of your mind and you banish it quickly. 

No, that’s the oxytocin talking.

It’s just been a long time since you’ve slept with someone more than once.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the gnawing grows more insistent.

…

Fuck.

[escherbug]

YEAR OF THE GRUB: JANUARY

Project: Needle Felting with Wire Armature

CRAFT STORE RUNS: 2

(The sleepy but patient Lt. for scale)

This year I started a Master's Degree program in Entomology. I wanted to make sure I was still making fun things while I'm so busy (mostly reading papers and books), so I arranged a set of media-based projects centered around my favorite insect (scarab grubs), trying to complete the project by the end of the month.

I didn't quite make it this time because I ran out of supplies a couple times and made the project a good deal harder for myself than I thought, but I think that's okay. This is just for me, after all.

STEP BY STEP:

First, I used sculpting wire and a pair of pliers to twist the skeleton of the grub. I wanted to be able to move all the legs and the main line of the body. I thought I'd be able to get an easier anchor in on the felt if I covered the hard wires with pipe cleaners, but I was pretty much wrong about that.

Next, I felted a bunch of spare roving into the general shape I wanted, and felted the head and the back end of the grub on in brown. I also hand-sewed six little socks to cover the wires on the legs and secured them as well as I could to the rest of the body so they won't fall off at random. This came out messier than I'd have liked, but I think also that I should cut myself some slack for having designed and patterned most of this on the fly.

Next came felting on the bulk of the fatty, cream colored body of the grub. Part of the reason I didn't end up making my deadline was that I ran out of white/off-white wool roving, and was unable to find it in stock at any stores, so I had to order it online and wait for it to arrive in the mail (it absolutely did and honestly, the new stuff from Shepswool.com is way softer than the wool I was using and a softer color, so it was well worth the wait).

From here, mainly all that was left was detail work. I didn't get a ton of photos of this because all these steps ended up being my Sunday (day of posting), but I used a finer wire, the same pliers, and super sculpey to make gently posable antennae, mandibles, a clypeus and labrum (as well as a pair of maxillae that absolutely did not show up in the end, just much too small), baked the clay on the wires and then affixed them to the existing framework I'd set up on the head for most of the face. The mandibles are attached to the antennae, so they move together, and the clypeus/labrum and maxillae are held on by the wires supporting the mandibles. I also glued on some cute little eyes that came standard with my felting gear.

All that was left at this point was final detail work-- I didn't feel like embroidering on a ton of hairs in the end, but I embroidered on some spiracles and felted those little sclerotized buts near the head.

And voila! A needle-felted beetle grub about the size of a small ferret. Wouldn't it be nice if we had more grubs around this size?

Further notes:

1) it's nice to be making something big enough for once while felting that I didn't stab my fingers constantly! I only stabbed myself like twice.

2) I bought a multi-needle felting tool for this, but I didn't really find it helped much beyond having a safety cover. It was also super noisy to work with, so I ended up going back to using a single felting needle halfway through.

Catch you at the end of this month, hopefully having completed my February project: WATERCOLOR ILLUSTRATION!

[everythingelseisextra]

Everything Is Fine

Request: No Description: Tired of being stuck in the same life every day, you decide to face your anxiety and go into town. You spend hours going unnoticed, until someone, finally, speaks to you. Warnings: idk there's mentions of alcohol? also the reader has anxiety? Word Count: 1547 Author's Note: This will be a multi-chapter fic slow burn Tommy x horse trainer reader. I am absolutely begging people to read it. I'm putting a lot of myself into this and hopping people like it. I'm a little nervous to post it, to be honest. Please lmk whether I should continue or not.

It’s been weeks. You do your work, lifting bales of hay and dragging buckets of water to and from stalls. You exercise the horses and deal with the insanity that comes from off-the-track animals. You go until you’re dizzy and sweating and then finally take a break to breathe and drink and eat. And then you go home, and you sleep in your tiny bedroom, and eat breakfast in the gray light of dawn, and it’s fine. Everything is fine. And your whole life is just a constant cycle of fine. Trying to shake it from you feels like trying to swim to a shore you don’t know exists, while the sea expands around you, endless. There’s nothing wrong with it, you think. There’s nothing wrong with the act of treading water, unless you start to drown. But you can stay afloat. You can always stay afloat. And everything is fine. 

It’s been weeks since you moved here, and, for the first time, you decide to go into town. You take your time, body heavy, weighed down by the faint storm in your mind, and duck your head as the cab pulls up. You can’t afford a car. Silence fills the small interior as the driver moves off, heading towards the faint outline of the city on the horizon. The countryside looms, pale green hills cut through with brown and gray paths, and you’re small, insignificant, because there’s so much around you and so little inside you. Soon, the hills smooth into flat, paved sidewalks and roads, and the car wanders through the wreckage that is Small Heath, the closest town to your property. Around you, shouts and the murmur of other vehicles, flashes of dark-dressed people, children running amuck on the streets. 

“Where to?” The driver asks, their voice quiet. 

“Wherever’s closest and serves alcohol.” You place your hands in your lap, staring out the window at the black and gray around you, the shadows dancing across stone walls, the flicker of lamps as being lit as night draws close. 

The driver nods.

After a few minutes, you’re greeted with a dark exterior, matching the rest of the city. Nothing special, but you didn’t ask for anything special. You asked for alcohol. You pay the driver and step out of the car, looking up at the words The Garrison resplendent in gold above the entrance. Some light in this city of devils. You shake your head, questioning your own sanity in setting foot in a big city like this. You’re from the country. You’re made to live small days and dream small dreams, stay in the quiet outskirts. And, yet, here you are. 

You enter, with some trepidation, and quietly make your way through wooden tables to take a seat at the bar, eyes on the grayed photos decorating the wall in front of you. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, and let your thoughts flow freely, trying not to judge yourself. The chatter of voices surrounds you, and the creak of chairs as weights shift, the clatter of glasses on tables. You’re dressed differently than everyone else in this bar. You hadn’t changed after work. Jodhpurs and a tight, tucked-in shirt, no overcoat. You release a tense breath and look up as the bartender approaches you. 

“Gin, I guess. Last Word, if you can do that.” You hate how shy you make yourself sound. You can face off a twelve-hundred pound animal with no fear, but become timid at any form of social interaction anywhere but your property. It makes you cringe. 

The bartender, a young blond woman, smiles faintly and nods at you. You go back to looking down at your hands in your lap, ears tuned to the noises around you. You catch phrases from conversations, little sayings, the chatter filtering in and out like a badly tuned radio. You receive your drink and sip slowly, waiting for the alcohol to find its way into your system and calm you, if only a little. The hair on the back of your neck raises; there are eyes on you.

As the night goes on, you find yourself in a cyclorama of constant movement, with you in the center. People come in and out. Shouting, standing on tables, making drunken toasts. Chairs get knocked over, thrown, laid on. The bartender calls to some of the men, smiling her little smile, and, at one point, sings a lilting tune that you faintly recognize but don’t know the words to. All the while, you’re still, silent, your own anchor in the blowing storm of the sea. 

No one sees you. No one cares. You finish your drink and sigh. Maybe part of you hoped someone would notice you, come over and speak to you. Maybe part of you wanted something more than fine. Maybe part of you thought you were some kind of special, some kind of chosen, the main character of your own story. Maybe part of you—

“Never seen you here before.” A voice next to you, low and gravelly, but soft enough that you don’t jump. 

You open your mouth to speak. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t seem to let them out. You shake your head, frustrated. The words are there. You can feel them burning on the inside of your throat; never been here before. You can’t speak them. You can’t even look at the man beside you. 

“Who are you?” His accent is different than yours, stronger. The softness starts to dissipate from his words and you grow tense, trying to breathe, trying to hold it together. 

Again, you try to speak, but can’t find the words. 

“I asked you: who are you?” He steps towards you. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch icy blue flicking over you, dark, high-quality clothing, and a cap held loosely in his hand on the bar, glinting in the golden light. That gets your attention, and you turn your head slightly, trying to get a good look without actually looking. Slim slivers of silver line the brim of the hat. 

“When I ask a question, I expect an answer.” Now there’s a threat in his voice and you pointedly look away. 

“I’m not from around here,” you say. You don’t want this man to know you. You don’t want a man who carries hidden weapons and threatens on the first meeting to know who you are. 

His head lifts slightly, so he’s looking down at you, and his mouth opens a bit, his tongue at the inner edge of his lips. Thinking. When he speaks, the threat is gone, the faint burn of his words completely erased. “You race horses?” 

You shake your head. 

“Why are you dressed for riding, then?” His arms cross, the cap on his left side. You track it silently, still not looking at him.

“I train them.”

“For racing.” He nods to himself, starting to look away from you, seeking his next target.

“No. After.”

He looks back, those piercing eyes back on you. Half of you wants to shrink into nothing, and the other part— well, the other part is fascinated with the idea of being someone else for the night, slipping into someone else’s skin and walking around, of being brave and social. His eyebrows raise slightly, a request for more information. 

You sigh, turn yourself in your seat, and face him. Brave. “I rehab horses that injure themselves on the track. Instead of shooting them, they give them to me.”

“Never heard of that.” You’re caught in his gaze, trapped there, and the most you can do is stare back. He sounds dismissive. 

“It’s real. You can come see it for yourself.” The words escape you before you ask them to, before you have time to think them through. Inviting a stranger to your property, where he could do anything he wanted to you in the middle of nowhere, where your screams would travel over the hills and reach no one. 

“Who are you?” He asks again. 

You shake your head. “I’m no one.” 

“Where are your stables?” 

You bite the insides of your cheeks for a moment. There’s no way of getting out of this. You already invited him. “A straight shot into the Northern countryside from Small Heath.”

He gives you a single nod. “Expect me tomorrow morning.”

You close your eyes, a faint burning sensation in the back of your throat. “Okay.”

You hear him start to walk away, heavy footsteps on the wooden ground, then, they stop, and your blood goes cold. 

“Thomas Shelby,” he says, and you open your eyes to find him looking over his shoulder at you. You get your first, non-panicked look at him. Small, well-muscled stature, with the posture of a man who doesn’t mind taking up space. Pitch black hair, shaved in the typical anti-lice style, with pale, porcelain skin and sharp cheekbones. And those eyes. Those eyes that look with such pointed intention, like every glance is a web of planning and strategy. 

“What?” So distracted by his appearance, you don’t catch his words. 

“My name. Thomas Shelby.” His head turns away from you, and his next phrase is faint. “Remember it.”

Part Two: Commit to the Bit

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Everything has been appropriately labeled, please do not read the ones marked 18+ if you are a minor

Multi-Chapter Series:

HEART OF THE FAE: The forest is full of mythical creatures, and you unwisely trespass on their territory. What happens when you become the ward of a handsome, blond, high Fae? Teaser Chapter 1 - The Forest

SECOND CHANCE SORCERER: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape? Chapter 1 Chapter 2

One-Shots/Scenarios/Drabbles:

Hell Hath No Fury (18+ #bhmf event) A night of lost tempers leads to Nanami contemplating certain (sexy) choices. Braiding Nanami's Chest Hair (13+) Basically the title. Fluff. Lipstick Test(18+) Reader gets creative when showing Nanami her different lip products. Vacation (18+) Nanami and a balcony in Paris. When The Cat's Away(18+) The mice do not come out to play as the reader patiently waits for Nanami to come home and relieve her from his previous edging. Can't stay away from you (13+) Ask box prompt. You can't stay away from him, no matter what. Lazy Saturday Mornings (18+) Morning sex with Nanami. Nanami's Baby Photos (E) Reader and Nanami are moving in and she finds a cute surprise when she opens one of the boxes. Promise Me (13+) Teen! Nanami. Reader is Nanami's high school sweetheart. When faced with a solo mission, she contemplates her life and choices as a Jujutsu sorceress. Angsty, fluffy. Nanami x Clueless Virgin Reader(18+) Ask box request. Shy!Virgin!Fem!Reader. Nanami introduces her to first orgasm. Secure In Your Lap (13+) Implied Desi!Asian!Reader, but good for anyone with difficult family dynamics. When reader gets an unwanted phone call from her mother, she's reminded of all the ways Nanami has made her feel loved and secure. Bridal Shop (18+) A final dress fitting leads to something else when the bridal shop owner, Nanami Kento, takes over your appointment. I’m Never Too Tired For That…( 18+) Fem!Reader. Reader is frustrated when her husband keeps coming home too tired for intimate activity. His Perfect Girl (18+) Fem!Reader. You'll do anything to be his perfect girl. Slight praise kink. A Little Jealousy (18+) Fem!Reader. You find out what happens when Nanami gets jealous.

Nanami Thoughts/Headcanons:

Nanami Secretly Dances Teen Nanami's Favorite Songs Fae! Nanami Nanami Needs Advance Notice Me Flirting With Nanami as a Barbie Doll Nanami as a minion Nanami Loves it When You Annoy Him Laughing During Sex Nanami is Bad at Showing Interest Nanami Hates Libraries Me Flirting With Nanami as a Biotechnologist Nanami as a kid Nanami is a polite lover Nanami's housewife or an independent sorceress Nanami Soft Lover Original Post Nanami and boobs ask box Nanami X Desi Reader Nanami Kento Headcanons(partially MDNI) Random Nanami NSFW Thoughts Pt 1 If I was dating Nanami 1 If I was dating Nanami 2

Ask Box/Conversations/Misc:

Calling Nanami a Dumb Blond Nanami MBTI Ask Nanami is Nurturing Nanami's Lap Nanami Soft Lover Ask Box

WIPS/Requests:

Fae! Nanami collab with @actuallysaiyan (multi-chapter)

Entry for @/ bleach-your-panties Blondes Have More Fun writing event

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2

Nanami somno (ask box request)

Husband Nanami fluff/smut

Reader getting attacked by a Taylor Swift curse now can't stop singing her lyrics (include Shake It off)

[deathbypufferfish]

It's finally done cooking, my sims gameplay ideas list! After scouring all types of sites, generators, lists, and my brain for ingredients, I've come up with a list stew that hopefully will spark some inspiration for your sims gameplays!

This non exhaustive list consists of ideas that are applicable to sims gameplay/things to do in-game. AKA things that can be played out in the sims or half pretended. If you're looking for less-gameplay story ideas, I recommend my story/conflict idea list. Most of the conflict and love ideas are on that list. Please feel free to send asks to add to the gumbo! Just note in your ask that it's for the gumbo and keep it applicable/feasible for gameplay. (To keep the post from getting too long I'll make a contributor list into a compressed image later on for those who send off-anon.)

If you are looking for more complex, in-game story ideas check out the Story Soup list here!

🍲 Gumbo below the cut! ⬇

Single Sim Gameplay:

Learn an instrument

Learn a new skill

Start a seashell collection (Island Living)

Have a sim get a bad haircut

Enroll an Adult/Elder sim in university

Use a skill you don’t usually play with

Become a mountain climber

Build a Servo

Take care of local strays

Use more likes/dislikes

Conflict:

Drop out of or fail university

Drop out or fail out of highschool

Talk badly about another sim in your house to other sims

Sim loses their job

Failed retail business

Family:

Foster a child

Parties for children

Have a baby shower

Have a slumber party

A grandparent/other family member moves in with your main household

Have a specific family holiday tradition besides the in-game ones

Family bike rides

Game night

Parent trains child in their sport

Family hikes at Granite Falls

Family volunteering

Bake sale (entrepreneur table)

Have a family photoshoot

Have teens study at the library

Have your teen go through a bad fashion phase

Host an exchange student

Make school picture day photos (Teen poses, children poses)

Have an arts & crafts day

Go fishing as a family

Have a specific weekly meal (spaghetti night, a fancy meal)

Make ice cream together (Cool Kitchen Stuff)

Wear matching pajamas for holidays

Have a bake off

Play with voidcritters (Kids Room Stuff)

Granola family (camping, hiking, low tech, simple living)

Play in a multi-generational household

Adopt

Family reunion

Unexpected baby

Have siblings share a room

Social/Activities:

Sports party night (e.g. watching the superbowl, world cup, etc)

Start a book club (with clubs)

Have a themed kids birthday party (Here’s a helpful website for ideas)

Have a potluck (buffet tables)

Garden party

Neighborhood party

Neighborhood holiday decorating contest

Host a haunted house in your home

Picnic

Barbeque party

Go to the arcade

Go regularly to restaurants (Dine Out Reloaded Mod to make restaurants tolerable)

Have an out of control party (maybe a teen party)

Go camping

Go to an Ice skating rink/roller skating rink

Spa day (at home or at a spa)

Make an army of snowpals

Movie night

Stargazing night/camp out in the backyard

Weekly bowling night

Museum trip

Karaoke night at home

Campfire night

Pool day

Weekly meetups with friends at a cafe

Try on wedding dresses with a bridal party

Have someone stay over (Growing Together)

Love:

Hook up with a service sim

Have a vacation romance

Have a “meet the parents” moment

Have an affair

Divorce

Marital fight

Rejected proposal

Throuple/Open Relationship (Open Love Life Mod)

Left at the altar

Use fear of commitment, jealous, or unflirty trait

Create a rocky marriage

Challenges:

Spend too much money on a vacation

Play with lot challenges

Use simple living (only cook with ingredients and do grocery orders)

Don’t clean up after sims (don’t drag plates, laundry, trash)

Use the Reduce and Recyle lot challenge for realism

Use the Filthy lot challenge to make cleaning harder

Lose a large sum of money

Randomize your sims’ traits as they age up

Household:

Have puppies and kittens

A serious house fire (either with cheating or with fireworks. There is also a mod for more intense fires here

Spring cleaning

Garage sale

Visit houses before you move into them

Create a storage room/attic (Eco Living boxes, Discover University chest, toy chest, treasure chest etc) Use this for old heir’s items if you are playing a legacy

Start a garden (herb, vegetables)

Renovate the house

Watch what your pets are doing

Adopt a stray animal

Teach your pets tricks

Upgrade objects

Have a home bar/rec room

Go on a vacation

Play with roommates (additionally have them be odd, difficult, or a romance option)

Have an always messy home

Hire a live-in butler

Hire a regular maid

Location:

Play in a sustainable community on one of the islands/isolated areas. (community farm, community space, homes)

Play in a tiny home (Tiny Living)

Play in a haunted house residential (Paranormal Stuff)

Become an Archaeologist. Live in Sulani and regularly visit Selvadorado for work

Career/Business:

Bookstore

Art gallery: sell your paintings or buy them off Plopsy/Buy Mode

Bakery

Play a career you don’t usually play

Winter sports store in Mt. Komorebi

Own a farmstand for your produce (Eco Lifestyle entrepreneur table) You can even build a small building for it on your property!

Pet supplies store 

Plant store

Tourist gift shop

Mattress/Bed   store

Florist shop (Flower Arranging Skill)

Juicery (Juice Fizzing Skill)

Yoga studio (host classes at a retail business or at a home studio)

Start a Bed and Breakfast/AirBnB with the roommate system

Become a celebrity in a path besides Actor/Actress (Author, Chef, Video Creator, Skier, etc.)

Food truck (Restaurant)

Fish stall (Entrepreneur table)

Make a living on Plopsy

Wool store (Cottage Living)

Natural health store (Herbalism)

Resources Used

ADAM DRIVER GIF DISCLAIMER: YES I KNOW IT'S A STEW

[lovelyiida]

bakugou and reader being seen as a power couple by the media!

you're my favorite writer here btw

☔

❥: omg I’m your favorite? GUEHEHUEHE

bakugo x (gn) reader, swearing, mentions of suggestive content, protective partner, mentions of arguing

At first, it was mutual trust between the two of you that propelled you to where you are today. Bakugo knew you were a hard worker; you took your title seriously, and most importantly—you kicked ass.

Both of you were paired at Best Jeanist Agency back in high school and only spoke here and there. However, when you both made it to the big leagues, you saw each other more often. Due to the familiarity of being around each other years ago, you began to form a strong bond.

And some strong unknown sexual tension...

When you fought side by side, you were an invincible duo, your quirks complementing each other seamlessly. With your somewhat "healthy" communication (besides a snide comment here and there) skills, you both maintained a very business-friendly relationship.

But the both of you easily saw through that.

Of course, both of you noticed the drawn-out gazes, protective hand placements, and the subtle brush of hands during patrols. It wasn't until sooner or later that the media would catch both of you in a rather steamy slip-up.

A star duo was born!

The relationship was embraced positively by both the media and the general public, particularly during interviews.

“So, Mr. Dynamite…how did you know (hero name) was the one for you?” the bright and bubbly interviewer asked.

Harsh florescent lighting, tight hero suits, a raging headache, 3 hours of sleep, and a single cup of coffee was all it took for Bakugo to snap. Which was impressive because the interview passed the five minute mark.

“Look at them and tell me you wouldn’t wanna [REDACTED] them? That’s why, nothing else, nothing more,” the blonde stated matter-of-factly.

A beat of silence washed over the room, the interviewer left speechless, gazing back at the camera with pleading eyes for a live cut.

Turning towards the interviewer with a smile, you shrug your shoulders with a quick motion and nod.

“Yep, I’d agree with him.”

Boom, 10 million views, an increased paycheck, a higher position on the hero chart, and a multitude of sponsors to choose from.

The people loved both of you.

You were raw, unscripted, intense, and caring. What more did the people not want to see?

Your profound connection was evident to everyone. From the way you seamlessly covered each other on missions to the tender hand squeezes and kisses on the cheek, such as when Bakugo accepted an award at the hero gala.

Publicly and privately, the two of you were a power couple, a dynamic force that some found almost too good to be true. Certain individuals, often claiming to be fans, went to great lengths, attempting to psychoanalyze every move in an effort to discredit your relationship as a mere PR stunt.

These obsessive "fans" even went as far as paying a multitude of hidden paparazzi to spy on both of you, desperately trying to unearth a flaw, a hiccup, or a mistake to exploit. However, whenever it seemed like they might succeed, both of you swiftly shut down any rumors with quickness.

[BREAKING] PRO-HERO COUPLE found arguing at MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR HOME

Yikes, the header photo did appear somewhat convincing.

Bakugo was pictured bellowing at the top of his lungs, and the expression you pulled back wasn’t the sweetest. But, of course, context is key.

Soon, you were sat in front of a camera to do an embarrassing PR apology...

“Just making it clear for all you weirdos out there, Dynamite and I were indeed having an argument... and I apologize that you had to witness a grown man getting worked up over discovering that Iceland is, in fact, not a land covered in ice. It's quite the opposite.”

Later transitioning smoothly into another interview, both of you now share a laugh about it. “I had to explain it to him for almost 20 minutes, and he was genuinely upset. Yelling at me like I'm the crazy one!” You chuckled.

Glancing over, you see Bakugo rest his hand on your thigh and let out a chuckle. “Yeah, and I still think you're [REDACTED] wrong.”

“Language!”

Oh, the power couple you were…

YAY IM FINALLY BACK!

❥: @xo-evangeline , @nar00 , @king-dynamight , @gold24fish , @lovra974 , @bakugospartner , @gaby-11 , @akqsa-xxi , @jolynegf , @goldenglow149 , @aliruuiz , @zukowantshishonourback , @ilovedenk-i , @atsushiki , @smolbeanzzz , @lem-hhn , @stevenknightmarc , @ryumiii , @idontevenknowlolls , @lyn07 , @kennshifts , @ackerman-suck-3-r , @elegantvoids , @thecurlyhairedgoddess , @sunyrose , @thisbicc , @thekookiecorner , @snxwycloud , @skylardarling

[lonleywriters-blog]

Hi! I love your headcannon posts and I was wondering if I could request one with the Gotham villains reaction to their s/o doing skincare/makeup on them? No pressure of course!

YESS I've been waiting for this ask!!

Gotham villains with s/o doing their makeup/skincare

He's liked makeup since the circus.

He most likely saw it in a movie or something then asked you to do it.

He will ask if you want to do it so it seems like your idea.

Literally won't stop fidgeting while you do his makeup.

You have to grip his jaw while you do his eyes so he won't move.

Kisses you all over leaving lipstick marks.

Taking a billion pictures and he posts them

When you do his skin care he jokes that he is a princess

He will feel so pretty

He will flaunt around in his gold facemask sipping a tea

He makes it a mandatory date night once a month now

He does his own makeup daily, but one day he was too tired and asked you to do it.

He stays completely still and will try not to talk much

Asks you if he needs to move his head and if you are comfortable with the position

He will praise your skills admiring himself in the mirror

Will let you do his makeup anytime now that he knows you are good at it.

Calls you his mini stylist

Now skincare is different.

He usually just washes his face with water and soap

Shocked when he finds out about multi-step face care

Honestly so into it, he will let you pamper him

He loves sitting and chatting until the face masks dry and you can't talk well

He always grunts and complains when peeling his mask off because it hurts.

He will now be doing a skincare routine with you everyday

Likes to flaunt how good his skin looks now

He is hesitant to let you do his makeup

He will tye his hair back for you.

Has to sit while you stand because he is super tall

Flinches every time a brush touches his eye

You accidentally poked him and he was really sweet about it even though his eye was watering

Loves a grunge or rockstar girlfriend look

He will strut his stuff when he is glammed up

Will compliment your work 10x over

He gets frustrated with face masks because they always get in his hair

He will pout if you don't use the right color mask

He always shivers when you apply the cold skincare

He will wash the mask off because peeling it hurts too bad

Laughed when you first asked

He will sit and be still, sometimes he will just admire how you look while being focused

Asks for it to be mostly black

He will get so pressed if you draw on eyebrows

He will let you take a photo but won't let you show anyone because of his reputation

He already does skincare but let's you do it for him sometimes

He will research any product before putting it on his face

He laughed every time you tried to talk and the mask won't let you.

He ends up actually getting into it and buying new things every week.

[beyondspaceandstars]

Relationship Quizzes

Relationship: Carol Danvers x Reader Warnings: fluff!!!! Summary: Based off a random prompt: Person B and Person A taking couple quizzes on the Internet. A/N: I just saw The Marvels today and I am HAVING THOUGHTS. This is a short little thing. I was a little tipsy when I wrote this but I had fun. Also - I did take these quiz titles from actual Buzzfeed "relationship" quizzes I found so if they sound fun, they are out there. and it just so happened to work out really cute. You'll see. And I'm not lying about the quiz result in this one shot.

Masterlist

"What are you up to?" Carol asked as she approached your sitting form. She had just finished some maintenance on the ship while you were cuddled under the one blanket on the bed in her ship. Your laptop was sprawled up on your lap.

"Did you ever used to take those couple quizzes that would come in magazines?" You asked while your eyes remained on the webpage in front of you. You had been browsing some social media when you came across one of those silly but cute Buzzfeed-like quizzes. An idea immediately popped in your head

When Carol asked if you'd like to spend some time in her world, you had eagerly agreed. When you met your girlfriend you hadn't been ignorant to the fact that she wouldn't be like the other girls you had been with and you were constantly amazed by her skills and dedication. So, taking some time off Earth to really see everything, see the galaxy, you were so pleased. But a couple of hours into your adventure you realized you were missing something: WiFi. The internet. Connection. It had taken you a hot minute to figure it out but you got it. And you were quite proud. Carol was a wizard with fancy space technology but when it came to your dedication to the internet, she didn't quite get it.

"Couple quizzes?" Carol repeated and thought for a second. "Like, those ones you'd take to figure out if you and your crush would be together?"

You nodded, eagerly. "I found some online that looks fun." You shifted over on the bed to make room beside you. "Come take a few with me."

Carol laughed and threw down a dirty towel she had been using during her ship maintenance. "What, are we twelve all of a sudden?"

You rolled your eyes and patted the space next to you on the bed. "Babe, come on. Humor me."

Your girlfriend sighed and finally caved. She slid under the blanket, your legs pressed against one another. You shifted the laptop so it was half on your thigh and half on Carol's.

Carol immediately started reading the page pulled up on the computer screen. Her brows furrowed. "'Create An Outfit From Urban Outfitters And We'll Reveal What's Missing In Your Relationship.' Honey, are you being serious?"

You couldn't help but laugh a little at your girlfriend's expression. "Yes, I know it's silly but come on, it can be entertaining."

"Fine, fine," Carol sighed as she took the helm and clicked the 'Start Quiz' button. The first question popped up.

Question 1: Let's start off with picking out a bra.

"Seriously?" Carol smirked.

"You read the title," you pointed out. "You know what you were in for."

"Fair enough," your girlfriend agreed. "Let's go with the white one. Keep it simple."

You agreed and made the selection.

Question 2: Pick a pretty dress.

"Oh, that's cute," you said as you pointed to an off-the-shoulder multi-colored dress.

"It's not bad," Carol agreed, "but you'll be able to see the bra straps and I don't think it'll work with those patterns. We should go with the white one, it has thick straps and it's flowy. Could be comfortable."

Your jaw went slack as you processed Carol's words. "You're taking this seriously now, huh?"

Carol laughed. "If we want to know what's missing in this relationship—as the quiz promises to tell us—we gotta be realistic here."

"Alright, alright," you caved. "White, flowy, thick-strapped dress it is." You selected the photo and moved on to the next question.

Question 3: Won't you need a jacket? Pick one.

"I don't know, will we need a jacket?" Carol asked in somewhat disbelief.

You shrugged. "Maybe it's fall time in the midwest. They didn't really set the scene for this outfit. I say we go with the leather jacket."

"I won't argue with that."

Question 4: Pick some comfy bottoms.

"What? Are they going under the dress?" Carol asked in confusion.

"I mean… Maybe?" You frowned at the computer. "These aren't very scientific."

"I need to manage my expectations. Go with the jean shorts, they should be fine."

You agreed and clicked the high-rise jean short photo.

Question 5: Of course, you can have the shoe of your choice.

"Oh, how nice of them, of course I can have shoes," Carol laughed.

You scoffed. "Stay focused, it's almost over. I think the black slide-ons will work."

Carol nodded. "Ties in with the leather jacket."

Question 6: Lastly, accessories make the outfit, so pick one.

"We are in the homestretch," you announced. "I think we should complete the look with sunglasses."

"Not the purse?" Carol asked.

"We have pockets on the leather jacket."

"You're so smart, babe."

You blushed as you selected the sunglasses and held your breath dramatically for the reveal… And there was nothing.

No results populated. It was blank. Whoever had made the quiz had apparently missed a crucial component.

Carol gasped. "We did all that for nothing?"

You bit your lip to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. "Maybe it means…nothing is missing. We're perfect."

Carol sighed and turned to face you. "My little optimist."

You giggled. "Well, what did you make of these results? Or lack thereof?"

Your girlfriend shrugged. "Maybe it means we're both cursed."

Now you could laugh again. "I actually think we're perfect."

Gently, Carol leaned in for a kiss, which you happily reciprocated.

"Should we try one more?" You asked after your lips separated. "These are really ridiculous."

"But you were right, they are kind of fun."

You smiled. "Awesome, one more it is then."

Carol agreed and gave you a full reign of the laptop. You typed and clicked away with Carol watching you closely. She liked your laptop, probably even like the idea of having it on board, but she never really used it when you offered it up to her.

After some browsing, you finally settled on a neutral but interesting-sounding quiz. "This one could be fun: What Relationship Type Do You Have With Your Partner?"

"There are different types of relationships?"

You nodded. "The quiz says so."

"Well, if the quiz says so," Carol smirked and motioned toward your laptop. "Let's go."

Question 1: How much do you and your significant other talk?

You and Carol both skimmed the options. And settled on the exact same one.

"We talk at least 100 hours a week."

"I can't get enough of you," you admitted and made the selection.

Question 2: How far away does your partner live?

"Oh, this was so not made for us," you laughed.

"Hey," Carol said in faux defence but she started laughing as well. "We make it work."

"Would you say we're in a long-distance situation? Or do we just live far apart but make time to see each other?"

"We make time, right?" Carol asked. Her tone dropped significantly. "I make time to see you."

You gave her a soft smile. "Of course you do, babe. You go beyond what I expect. I mean, I'm in space, right now. For you. With you."

Carol grabbed your hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Question 3: What do you and your partner have in common?

"I want to say loyalty. Or everything."

"Yeah," you nodded, " but you don't like my music taste. Or my food preferences."

"I'm sorry I'm not into jazz or eating ketchup on scrambled eggs."

"Loyalty it is," you decided.

Question 4: What's one thing you'd change about your partner?

"Kind of a rude question," Carol mumbled. "Absolutely nothing, right? Unless you're going to take this as a chance to admit to me what I don't want to hear."

You shook your head. "Nothing." You could worship Carol. "Nothing at all. I'll take all of you. Flaws, perfections, and everything in between."

Question 5: What's something you'd leave your partner for?

You both read through the responses.

"Communication could ruin us," you pointed out.

"You're always right, babe."

Question 6: If your significant other was sad, how would you cheer them up?

You let out a light laugh at the options under the question. "You either shower me with so much affection when I'm upset or don't know what to do."

Carol lightly bumped her shoulder into you. "I like the more flattering option. You also shower me with affection. I almost have to peel you off me."

"You never peel me off you."

"I love you too much."

Question 7: Your significant other is working themselves way too hard. What do you do?

"Oh, this is so you," you point out to Carol. "All work, I swear."

"I am not-,"

"I am in your bed and you spent hours working on this ship."

Carol humphed. "Well, I'm here now."

"I would say I try to express to you how concerned I am about your…working habits."

Carol agreed, reluctantly. "You are allowed to express them."

"I am. And I will."

Question 8: Oh no – your S.O. is sick! What do you do?

"Soup," you decide as you read the options. "You do like to me soup when I'm sick. And watching movies. I love watching movies with you even when I'm sick."

You saw Carol's cheeks get rosy. "Do you enjoy my soup?"

"Your soup?" You smirk. "I didn't know you owned Campbell's Soup."

Carol laughed.

Question 9: How well do you think you really know your partner?

"'I feel like I know every facet of,'" you read off the webpage.

"Yeah," Carol agreed. "That one."

You placed a quick pack on her cheek. Her skin was still rosy and pink.

Question 10: And lastly, do you see a future with this person?

"Of course," you whispered. "I never want us to be apart even for a second."

Carol said nothing but gave your thigh a tight squeeze. You could've pounced on her then and there.

As you made the final selection, you once again held your breath and waited on the edge of your seat for the result.

This time, it actually worked. A confetti animation decorated the screen as your quiz result populated.

"'The super-love relationship,'" you read off the computer screen, "'Wow, your relationship is like one of those whirlwind Hollywood romances that everyone dreams of having! It's like some sort of fairytale, but it's clearly not fiction.'"

Carol let out a surprised but pleased yell at the results. "We actually are perfect," she noted. "You were right."

You hummed in agreement. "Like some sort of fairytale. That sure does describe how I feel."

"Really?"

You nodded. "Sometimes I can't believe you're real. And that I'm here. And you're mine."

Carol subtly intertwined her hand with yours. "I'm always gonna be yours, babe."

"We're so cheesy," you muttered. "I love us."

Carol smiled. It was so genuine and intriguing. "I love us, too."

[unforgivable-miracles]

【I】 PUNKER WORK

a green punk/magazine style edit. it is recommended for single muse only. though, with a few adjustments, it could also be used for multi-muse with the max. of three. it includes the muse's name, a title and a short description. the objects in the psd can be moved around.

the psd can be edited using a free website called photopea — simply go to PHOTOS > MAIN and place your desired images in the right folders — dm me if you have any questions

[rookthorne]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑶𝑾𝑬𝑬𝑵

》 𝐀 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

It had come time for the final chase. Halloween had loomed in the back of your mind, until the night finally came. The Soldat’s promise from your first encounter rang true as you prepared — a promise that terrified and excited you in equal measure.  Time would only tell, and you had to hope you were ready for the final hunt.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 》 Scare Actor!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 》 3.2k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 》 Fluff, consensual stalking, primal, knife play, implied spice, use of a mask in an unorthodox situation, possessive behaviour

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 》 The conclusion to my first published multi-chapter fic and it has been some of the most fun I have ever had. 》 Thank you all so much for the love and interaction. 》 Happy Halloween, my chaos kittens!

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 》 @smutconnoisseur

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 》 @rookthorne's Fright Night — Masterlist

》 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

》 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

Halloween night loomed, rushing closer and closer as you worked feverishly. The hours flew by faster than you could catch them, and you were growing desperate to gain a semblance of control over the chaos that was your costume. 

The moniker of kitten had inspired the last minute changes to your outfit – soft, fluffy, white ears sat on a headband, while the rest of your outfit followed the theme, too. 

By some miracle, you had found gloves that resembled white paws, and white boots that shone under the light of your bedroom. It was a comfortable fit – easy to move in, which would serve you well, and you had a very strong feeling that Bucky would love it. 

Since he had dropped you home that morning, you had texted one another non-stop to the point he had to put his foot down and tell you to switch off your phone to sleep. You had cursed him out with numerous, foul emojis, and said goodnight. He had laughed and wished you sweet dreams. 

Later that morning, when you finally awoke, you found he had texted as he prepared for that night’s celebrations. There were photos of his costume, stripped and cleaned, hung up on a coat hanger to dry with the caption attached: battle ready, it’s going to be insane tonight. I can’t wait to hunt you down.

The words had made the butterflies in your stomach roar and pitch such a fit you had to sit on the edge of your bed to get your bearings back. Texts followed on from that promising threat, and he said that he would not be wearing kohl that night, but he would be carrying more prop weapons – his favourites, as he so giddily stated. 

It was an odd situation to sit back and think about. With such a fast connection, unlike any you had developed before, you had grown to crave his presence and his touch. Bucky was a man that had his head on straight, prioritising respect and kindness – a feat most couldn’t even be bothered to achieve. 

With that thought, and realisation, a strange, foreign feeling settled in your stomach – the butterflies that fluttered there seemingly becoming lighter, as though they would take flight and carry you with them. 

Nightfall arrived quickly once you had finally sorted and dressed in your costume, and the moon was high in the sky as you journeyed to your haven.

The sheer amount of people that crowded the entrance of the park was astonishing. Every single visitor, of all ages, were dressed head to toe in costumes that ranged from expert to home crafted. Colours, props, and contrasts made few stand out amongst them. 

An hour prior to your arrival, you received a text from Bucky – he was on shift and he was now in costume. Since his suit had no viable pocket for his phone, that meant that he would also be unreachable from that point on. With that announcement, he had also doubled down on the threats of being hunted from the moment you would step foot in the park. 

If you were honest, you weren’t sure whether he was given help to find you via a comms device in his ear, or if he truly was that skilled in tracking and finding you in the crowd. 

Music blasted from the numerous speakers that lined the entryway and fogged billowed from machines as you neared the entry booth. It was almost unrecognisable from the first night of your visit, and compared to the night before, the decorations were even more intense. 

The park pyrotechnics lit up the fences and buildings in beat with the music, a song you recognised to be a tune similar to something resembling Rob Zombie – though it was hard to tell over all of the yelling and screaming from those already in the park. 

You watched as actors stalked up and down the lines, jostling visitors and riling up the try-hards, when a familiar face came into view. 

“Ah, there she is,” they said, and your eyes widened as they approached. If you weren’t mistaken, this was Bucky’s best friend, Steve – the man clad in black that you had bumped into the night before. “I was told a little lamb would make it back tonight. A certain Soldat has passed on the message that you were to…” He looked up and down the line, gesturing boredly. “Skip the crowds. C’mon, no point waiting out for your slaughter.”

Steve offered his hand, and you hesitated in taking it. “This isn’t a ploy to corner me, is it?”

He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest. You couldn’t help but stare at the blazing red insignia there. “No, no, I think I’d end up dead if I decided to target you myself. He’s a bit ruthless, not to mention territorial over what’s his.”

You blinked and looked at Steve, he only shrugged. “His?” you repeated, walking side by side with him. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughed. He led you between the booth lines and waved to the worker as he walked past. “It seems our Soldat has taken to the little lamb that ventured out of her depth. I can’t blame him, though,” he said, arching a brow as he looked at you from the corner of his eye. “You are sweet–feisty, too.”

“You flatter me,” you deadpanned, and Steve barked a laugh. “So, where is he?”

“Oh, he’ll find you, lamb. Run along–get a head start if you want to make it out alive tonight.” With that last threat, Steve turned and strode off, leaving you in the entryway of the park between the arches of the rides and food court. 

Pyrotechnics and fog plagued your vision – yellow and orange flames followed by glowing green and purple smoke that roiled and rolled at your feet. The lack of any markers like there had been the previous nights left you feeling disorientated; lost and scared for your fate at the hands of the one that hunted you. 

There was a crowd of people moving past you when the first scare of the night overtook you. A middle-aged man pointed up towards the top of a prop building. “He’s there, look!”

Your stomach swooped and your heart rammed against your ribs. The implication of him sent a harsh shiver up your spine, but you still looked to the sky, searching the top of the surrounding buildings. 

A blast of fire silhouetted a crouched man on the building furthest to your left. He was crouched on the edge, perched with a rifle in his hands; the scope was pointed straight at you. Time slowed as you stared, taking in the way the man’s hands flexed over the trigger before there was a shot, not unlike the sound of a cannon blasting off, and the ground at your feet was splattered with red. 

Tendrils of it landed over your shoes and pants, splattering over your white costume and marking it for all to see. You yelled in shock as you rapidly stepped back, treading on the shoes of passersby in an attempt to get away from the scene. 

“Sorry, sorry! Shit-” you hissed, stopping only once you reached a few paces from the splattered red. The state of your costume was alarming – it was as though you had been an extra on the set of Carrie. 

Instinctively, you looked up at the prop building to find that man standing tall on the edge. The gun was pointed down towards his feet, and the strap was over his chest. You watched as Soldat tilted his head, long hair swaying to the side with the movement, and he pointed directly at your chest, then your feet.

The message was clear. You had been marked – marked for the hunt, and he was after you. 

“Fuck.” 

People parted quickly as you rushed off, running in a random direction to get some semblance of a head start against him. Your feet pounded against the pavement in time with the beat of the music and it fuelled your adrenaline – a game of chase unlike any you’d experienced before. “Excuse me, move,” you shouted over the music, shoving the people who didn’t move in time. 

Actors called and whoop after you, the signature bloody mark over your clothes a sign they evidently knew well. 

“And there goes our little lamb,” Widow called as you dashed past. “Run, run! He’s after you!”

“Thanks!” you yelled over your shoulder, and you took a sharp turn towards the amenities. There was a small building to the side, it was shrouded in the dark and considering its distance from the main crowds, you wouldn’t be discovered. At least, not by a bystander – Soldat was another beast entirely. 

The stitch in your chest pulled you up short and you stumbled to the building, putting your back against it with a gasp for air. Muffled sounds echoed from the grounds; screams, music, and pleas to be left alone, but there was not a single sign that Soldat had followed. “Maybe I’m safe,” you mumbled, looking from left to right. No moving shadows, no shrouded figures…

You moved off the wall, stepping slowly and deliberately towards the lights of the overhead spotlights. The pad of your shoes squelched with the wet substance that coated them – of which you prayed was in fact, just paint – and you peered around the corner. No one was there, and you released a sigh of relief. 

“You really must learn to be better aware of your surroundings, kotenok.”

The scream tore from your throat before you could clamp your mouth shut, and you whipped around to find the source – Soldat was leaning against the opposite wall, foot propped up against it while he flipped a knife in his metal hand, ignorant of the glint of the blade as it flashed. “Bucky!”

Soldat tilted his head. “It is not that easy, little one. I promised that by the fall of this night, you would know just who you belonged to–as far as I can tell, you still do not seem to understand that you are in my world now, and at my mercy.”

“You son of a bitch,” you groaned, putting your hands on your hips. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” He pushed off the wall. The graceful way he moved entranced you and you flinched as he stepped in front of you, head tilted the opposite way; grey irises shrouded with shadowed intent. “Oh, kotenok–if only you knew just what I plan on doing to you when I catch you in our little game. You would not be so petulant.”

“Game?” you blustered, staring back at him with indignation. “This is a game to you? Making me run for my life, this act all for fun?”

Soldat leaned in close, his breath hot over your lips again – if he had not been wearing the mask, you would have taken the chance to kiss him. “Run, kotenok, run.” 

The implicit danger of his words made a shudder of fear ripple down your spine. You turned and bolted, not caring as you passed by crowds that stared; pointedly ignoring the whoops of actors that watched your progress with sneers of amusement. 

Your legs ached with exhaustion but you didn’t dare stop for rest. There were shrieks and calls behind you, each of which sounded more exhilarated and fearful than the last: “It’s him! Look!” and “Soldat’s here!”

“You are not fast enough,” Soldat rasped behind you, his voice trailing all the way down to your last nerve. You shrieked and jumped, pushing your tired legs harder, the pounding of your feet on the pavement quickening. “If you concede, little kotenok,” he continued, this time from right next to you, “I will go easy on my prey. Just this once.”

“Bastard,” you huffed, and with all the strength you could muster, you pushed forward and darted between two food stands, forcing him to fall back. “Can’t catch me now!”

Your bravado soared when you glanced back over your shoulder to see he was no longer tailing you. The ache in your legs reached such a pitch that you stumbled to a choppy walk, limping as you panted for breath and frantically thinking of where to run next. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you huffed, and you sat down on an empty bench, careful to not have your back against the shrubbery, lest he surprise you again. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

For a second, you closed your eyes and breathed deeply, collecting your scrambled thoughts, when a hand covered your mouth and another cupped your throat. “You can, kotenok. And you will.”

You jumped and looked up. Soldat was looking down at you, eyes narrowed playfully. A cold, metal thumb brushed against the front of your throat, and to an onlooker, it would appear as though he was adjusting his grip. He bent down so his hair tickled your cheeks. “Are you alright, doll? Do you need to stop?”

The words were quiet, but assuring, especially while dressed in character. You shook your head and looked into his eyes. “I’m okay–promise, you’re just giving me a run for my money.”

He chuckled and stood up straight, the brightness of his eyes completely out of character. “Why don’t you walk with me?” He gestured around at the crowds, and he pulled out his knife to flip it. “I have been told I can make an appearance and stay out in the open tonight–keep the myth alive.”

“Why not,” you replied, getting to your feet with a groan. “I could do with just a walk.” 

“That is fair,” he hummed. “I must admit, our game of cat and mouse has grown to be such a rush. You make it far too easy for me, though.” You looked over at him and narrowed your eyes. He shrugged indifferently and walked ahead of you, still flipping the knife. “Stay with me, kotenok. You can watch these people lose it.”

“Okay,” you laughed, and you kept a steady pace, careful to stay behind Bucky – the distance allowed you an opportunity to stare at his ass while he walked, which led to the discovery that the tactical canvas pants of his costume clung to his thighs just as well as his jeans. “You have a nice butt.”

You heard a snort of laughter that was covered by a cough, and you watched him shake his head. “What? It’s true.” 

“Do not distract me,” he growled lowly – just audible over the pounding music. “Or you will pay for it.”

“That a threat or a promise?” you fired back, and you could have sworn you had flipped a switch in his mind by the tense line of his shoulders and sudden rigid posture. 

The look he fired you over his shoulder made your legs turn to jelly, and you vaguely filed away that tidbit of information away for later – much, much later. 

At a small distance, you followed Bucky as he walked through the crowds. There was one instance where, like you, a man must have signed the waiver to be handled by The Soldat, because Bucky pinned him against the wall and stared into the stranger’s eyes as he stared wide-eyed back. 

Music boomed to the right of you so you couldn’t make out the whimper or the words that escaped his lips, but Bucky pulled back off of the man to watch him slump down onto the floor. 

With his back turned and the stillness of his body, you took the chance to take in his costume. High on his back, between his shoulder blades, a gun was holstered with a magazine attached, while holsters on his thighs and hips were full to the brim with other props. The rifle he had used on you at the beginning of the night wasn’t strapped to his back, but you took note of the large knife strapped to his belt where the scope would have sat. 

The outfit did something to you, something that you couldn’t understand, and you filed that away for further thought at a later time – unable to think with the heat that settled low in your hips at his intimidating stature. “Stop it,” you muttered to yourself quietly, shaking your head once. “Get it together.”

Soldat turned towards you and you baulked at the glint in his eye – on an ordinary man, you would have described it as anger, or fury. On him, while in costume, it looked as though he had been possessed by the Devil himself. As he neared, he arched a brow in question, when you realised you were still staring. “Nothing, nothing,” you rushed, stepping back. 

“No. Move,” he ordered, gesturing for you to walk forward. 

Hesitantly, you stepped forward and started to walk, glancing over your shoulder at him. He continued to stare at you, then flicker his gaze to a passerby and flipping his knife. It sent a rush of power to your head to have someone as dangerous as him walk behind you – seemingly in a guarding disposition, but that went out the window when you felt a knife on your throat. 

“You did not think I would be that easy on you, little kotenok–hmm?” Soldat purred, his mask cold against your ear. Your breath hitched and you moved to pull away, but he snarled and grabbed your throat with his other hand. “Stay where I put you or you will regret it.”

“What-”

“Nyet. Quiet.” The crowds moved around you, staring transfixed as he manipulated you into standing against his chest, just like the first night. “I think my trophy deserves to be shown off. They need to know that you are mine.”

Fear pulsed through your body, confused with his words, you didn’t know what to expect, when cold, hard plastic covered your mouth. You furrowed your brow as he stepped back from you, then clipped something behind your head. “What–? Buck-”

Your hand moved to your mouth, and your eyes widened. A mask, identical to his own, covered the lower half of your face and it fit perfectly – not pinching or pulling at any point of contact or movement. “You gave me–?”

“My trophy,” he edged carefully, bringing the tip of his knife to your chin and tipping your head up. “Mine.”

The possessive behaviour made a thrill of arousal sing through your every nerve, and you gulped. “I do not think they would dare go after you now, my little kotenok. And, look at that,” he said, directing your face to the sky. The night had lightened and dawn had approached, much faster than you had anticipated. “The final night has now fallen, and you belong to me–just as you should.”

You blinked owlishly, the cogs of your mind freezing and clunking into place. “Is this you- Are you-” The words were muffled by the mask over your mouth, but the glint in his eyes were as knowing as ever – vulnerable and open. 

He stepped closer so he was in your space, his breath coming in slow, deep pulls. Ever so quietly and out of character, Bucky asked, “Be my girl, kitten?”

The world fell away, the music, the screams – all of it fell to the background and became non-existent. You had hoped, after the night before, with how fast you had developed a connection with Bucky over those milkshakes, that this would happen. It felt reckless and otherworldly, saying yes to such a proposition in the middle of a haunted attraction to a scare actor dressed in costume.

But what was a little rebellious adventure?

You looked into Bucky’s eyes – not The Soldat’s, and smiled. “Hell fucking yes.”

nyet = no

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁