#strong and gentle...that is what I am!!!!

[snowstormarts]

Hi!! Since you’re taking Date Everything requests, could you please do some cuddling headcanons for Jean Loo, Cam, and Tony?

[I will try my best, I sadly have only gotten Cam's Friendship route and the other two I have gotten the hate routes sadly ú^ú But I am confident that I can write something up for all of them, especially our dear Trashcan!]

Cuddling Time 2 [Date Everything x GN Reader]

[Feat; Jean Loo, Cam & Tony] [Divider Credit]

🗑 Cam 🗑

- He acts rough and tough, even leaning on mean on some occasions but once you two get to know each other? He's a real cuddle bug, he loves having you close by and on hard days he asks to be the little spoon for the night. Don't tease him about it, it's a sensitive topic for him to be vulnerable just hold him close and enjoy having him there

- He pulls you on top of himself, arms wrapping around your hips as he lets you use him as a personal mattress. Which is the perfect opportunity to play with his face or poke his face, he will huff and playfully try to bite your fingers until you tire yourself out

- He smells quiet nice actually for someone who's a Trashcan, he would never admit it but he is a bit self-conscious over his smell. Especially since some others be it in your home or outside would complain about it often, so he always makes sure to get some perfume or get a shower if Johnny lets him

- If you ask him about it he will answer honestly, though it might take some time to convince him even a little that you aren't that bothered by his natural smell (which is often a mix of take-out, papers & the occasional deodorant/perfume bottle, it oddly enough smells quiet nice actually?)

🚽Jean Loo 🚽

- He's very busy with his rapping career, be it from working on another rap for his album or because of an upcoming performance but do not fret, Jean Loo always makes sure to have time for you even if it means sneaking in when you've already fallen and asleep and cuddle up to you, holding you from behind until you wake up the next morning to find him drooling onto the pillow

- But when he has time get ready to sit somewhere comfy and have him between your arms as he tells you his upcoming rap ideas for hours on end. If you wanna stop it just kiss him on the cheek and watch the master of crap freezes up for a minute but be prepared, Jean Loo never goes down without a fight, especially if it's a fight of affection and love

- When he's a big spoon he will take off his jewelry, even his trusty necklace with the Ballcock. He wants to make sure his muse is comfortable in his arms as you both hold onto the other, eyes closed as your foreheads gently collide against one another with a shared short laugh, he will whisper sweet nothings in french to you

🛠 Tony 🛠

- He thought for sure that he would nail your first cuddling session but to keep it short, he got a bit too excited and confused a gentle hold with an intense bear hug, say what you will but his arms truely are strong and muscular

- And speaking of them, he will carry you to a spot to cuddle with you if you even so much hint at it, nothing will stop him to share some quality time with you (except maybe if someone needs fixing immideantly and even then it's only if it's an emergency. But while he reluctantly goes he will make sure everyone hears his long sighs as he promise to come back soon as fast as he can)

- Tony in general is very muscular, his arms aren't the most comfortable to rest again but his chest? A perfect spot, especially when his arms snake around you and he holds you in such a secure grip. You ever need a slight, gentle squeeze? He can give you it and it feels almost like a weighted blanket but better since you can hear his heart speeding up whenever he hears you sigh and relax further into his hold

[myrleius]

unscheduled — aizawa s.

aizawa s. x detective fem!reader│wc: 4k

synopsis: It's late. You're working. And Shota brings fast food.

cw/tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, suggestive themes

The office is quiet, save for the low hum of your laptop, the occasional creak of old plumbing, and the steady scratch of your pen across paper.

The overhead lights are off, replaced by the soft glow of your desk lamp and the blue light of open tabs—city surveillance footage, license plate databases, a paused video from a bodega robbery.

You’d been reorganizing your notes for the last hour, half out of necessity, half to keep your mind from spiraling after thirty-two hours with little sleep.

You’re mid-sentence, scribbling something about time discrepancy, when you felt it. A warmth at your back, a slow exhale ghosting over your neck.

Arms eased around your waist. Familiar. Strong. And oh-so gentle.

You stiffened for a breath, instinct prickling—but then you melted.

“Detective,” Shota murmured, voice low against your ear. “A word?”

You sighed, letting your eyes flutter shut as the pen slipped from your fingers. “Mmm… you’re going to say two,” you murmured back, your lips quirking into a smile. “Probably ‘go’ and ‘home.’”

“Funny,” he said, pressing a kiss to your nape. “I was going to say ‘come’ and ‘here.’”

A quiet laugh bubbled from your throat. You slowly turned in his arms and there he was—tired eyes, dark circles, hair tied back loosely. Stupidly handsome, as always.

You leaned up to kiss him, soft and quick, before wrapping your arms around his waist. Tucking your face in his shoulder, you breathed him in. He smelled like clean soap and night air.

It had been two months since you last saw him.

Your gaze caught on a plastic bag resting on one of the tables behind him. That hadn’t been there before, and the red logo was unmistakable.

“You brought dinner?” you asked, knowing full well it’s past 2 A.M.

He shrugged, the barest of smiles tugging at his mouth. “I figured you hadn’t eaten. Or slept. Am I wrong?”

You pinched his cheek, shifting slightly to at least pretend to hide the chaos on your desk. “You haven’t either,” you muttered, gaze flicking to the shadows under his eyes.

He chuckled, then nodded toward the couch in the corner. “Come on. Before it gets cold.”

The couch creaked beneath your combined weight as the two of you settled in. Shota set the takeout bag on the coffee table, unwrapping its contents. He handed you your portion without a word.

You accepted it with a small smile, the wrinkle of wax paper loud in the quiet room. “So,” you started, peeling back the wrapper of your burger, “what’s the occasion?”

You took a bite before he could answer, humming in content. It was only then that you realized how hungry you were.

“Your cholesterol wasn’t high enough,” he replied dryly, popping a nugget into his mouth.

You laughed, stealing one for yourself. “How romantic.”

“I try.” He smirked, nudging the nugget container closer to your side.

“But seriously, didn’t you have patrol tonight?” you said around a mouthful. “And it’s a school day tomorrow too.”

“I switched shifts,” he said. “And I’m not staying long. Just for a few hours.”

Your heart warmed at that. Of course he’d trade rest for this. For you.

You ate in silence for a few minutes, but you didn’t mind. It felt nice to share a meal like this again, a sliver of normalcy in your sleepless world. You didn’t realize how much you’d miss this. How grounding it was to just be next to him.

You glanced at him.

As you chewed, a few strands of your hair slipped loose, falling over your eyes. You tried blowing them away with a breath, though unsuccessfully.

Then, without a word, Shota leaned forward. Fingers brushed your hair back behind your ear, the backs of them lingering against your cheek for a beat too long. You felt the warmth trail after them like a tide pulling back, slow and reluctant.

“What?” he said, but his mouth curved into that lazy, knowing smile.

“Nothing,” you murmured, and turned away.

Your eyes dropped to his mouth and found a smudge of ketchup near the corner, barely noticeable.

Without thinking, you reached over, wiped it away with your thumb, and licked it clean like it was second nature.

And it was. You’d done it before, countless times.

But the way he looked at you, you’d think it was the first time.

“That was kinda hot,” he murmured, voice amused but soft.

You huffed a laugh, gently nudging his shoulder. “That’s all it takes to get you going? You’re more sleep-deprived than I thought.”

His chuckle vibrated against your palm, but that look—that wasn’t him getting turned on. Not even close.

Then, without warning, he said, “I missed you.”

You paused, the words landing somewhere deep.

Shota never said things like that first. 

You usually had to tease it out of him, pull it loose behind a wall of dumb jokes and half-hearted grumbling. And even then, he’d deflect, tossing some excuse like, “The cats keep looking for you,” or “The bed’s too cold.”

Yet, here he was, handing it over without a fight.

You put your food down slowly, more carefully than needed, as if sudden movement might startle the moment away. After a pause, you wiped your fingers with a napkin and shifted closer to him.

Then, you leaned in, resting your head against his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt was warm, soft from too many washes.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you exhaled, long and quiet, letting go of something you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“I missed you too,” you murmured, cheeks warm. “Even when you’re here right now.”

There was a brief silence. Then came the low rumble of his voice, deadpan and almost fond.

“You always get like this when I say nice things.”

But he didn’t pull away. If anything, his shoulder stayed steady beneath your cheek. He tilted his head, just enough to rest his cheek against yours. The bristle of his stubble scraped your skin, and something fluttered low in your stomach.

You snorted. “Wow. Groundbreaking observation. What’s next? ‘Water’s wet’? ‘Sky’s blue’?” 

You leaned back just enough to meet his eyes, already rolling yours. “Yes, Shota, when you’re nice, I like it. I know. Shocking.”

His lips twitched, trying to hold back a grin. “Damn. With this level of skill, I think I deserve a promotion.” 

His hand slid up your shoulder and gently pushed, guiding you back into the cushions as he shifted to hover above you. His weight didn’t press—but the suggestion of it was there.

“What’s above a detective again…?”

You burst out laughing, half at awful innuendo, half at the ridiculous way his eyebrows wiggled. “Oh my god. That was so bad.”

He didn’t budged, still caging you in, but his smirk softened. “Worked on you, though, didn’t it?”

“Barely.” You shoved at his chest—half-hearted and not really trying. His presence was solid, familiar. And oddly comforting. “And the answer is nothing, because you’d be a terrible boss.”

“Oh, really?” he murmured, dipping his headcloser. “You weren’t complaining when I bossed you around in bed last time.”

You squinted. “Perv.”

But you didn’t move. And neither did he. Until his mouth found yours.

The kiss started slow, gentle. His lips moved with unhurried certainty, like he had nowhere else to be, like this was the only thing on his list tonight. You curled your fingers into the front of his shirt, already halfway to dragging him closer when—

Your stomach let out a loud, traitorous growl. It sounded halfway between a snarl and a dying cat.

Shota froze, lips still hovering close. “... Wow.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, pressing a hand to your face. “I’m hungry, okay?”

“Clearly.”

He stayed where he was for another second, intentionally putting his weight on you just to be difficult. And your stomach made another dramatic complaint.

He chuckled, finally easing off you and helping you sit up. “Alright, alright.”

He reached for the abandoned takeout, pressing it back into your hands like it was a peace offering.

“Here,” he said. “Eat. Before you start chewing on me.”

As you both settled back into the food, the conversation drifted easily into life updates. You told him bits about the case, nothing sensitive, just the parts that frustrated you most. He listened the way he always did, never offering solutions unless you asked for them. Just letting you talk, until you didn’t need to anymore.

You rolled your eyes but took the burger anyway, biting into it with a vengeance.

Then, as if on instinct, you kicked him lightly in the shin.

He didn’t even flinch.

In return, he gave you updates from U.A.—small things, subtle milestones, the kind of stories that made you realize just how far you’d slipped from the normal rhythm of life. And how much you’d missed it.

“Oh, right,” you said as the last of the wrappers were balled up and tossed into the bin.

You crossed the room to your desk, rummaging through one of the drawers until your fingers closed around a white envelope. It was pristine, elegant, embossed with delicate swirls that shimmered faintly in the light.

“Kaede and Ren got engaged,” you said, offering the envelope as you returned to the couch.

The words came out too carefully, like you were reciting a report rather than sharing news.

Shota raised an eyebrow, fingers brushing over the embossed edge. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sent us an invite. It’s next spring,” you said, watching him too closely as he opened it. “She says she’s thinking of quitting the field too. Maybe start a consultancy firm instead.”

He nodded slowly, skimming the invitation before sliding it back into the envelope and leaving it on the coffee table.

You bit your lip. Why was this so hard? You weren’t asking for a promise. Not even a plan. Just a thought. A possibility.

But the fear was there, coiled tight in your stomach.

What if he hadn’t considered it at all? 

What if you were the only one letting your mind wander there?

You didn’t talk about these things. Not unless they were buried under sarcasm or deflection. And even then, only when you were brave enough to pretend you weren’t serious.

But tonight, with that envelope glowing white against the dark wood, and with his warmth pressed beside you after too many nights apart, the words just hung on the tip of your tongue, desperately wanting to be said.

You glanced at him sideways, heart hammering. “Does that… ever cross your mind? Stuff like that?”

He didn’t answer right away. 

But he didn’t look away either.

“Sometimes,” he said at last. “Lately, more often.”

You nodded, your fingers toying with a napkin, twisting it slowly. 

“I never used to think about it,” you said. “I was always focused on work. And I thought… what we have, it’s enough.”

And then, with a rush of panic, you waved your hands in front of him.

“And it is,” you rushed to say. “It still is. I just—”

You exhaled shakily. “I’m starting to realize how temporary everything is. How one day you’re this invincible twenty-something and the next you’re watching everyone move forward while you’re still…” 

The sentence crumbled under its own weight, the rest of the thought too vulnerable to voice.

Your gaze dropped, voice softer. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if wanting more than what we already have—on what we agreed on—makes me… selfish.”

The word tasted bitter in your mouth.

You hadn’t meant to say any of it. These were just silly thoughts, the kind that came in waves after too many hours at your desk, when you passed a bridal shop and your reflection lingered in the glass, or when you found yourself staring at high chairs in restaurants, imagining a tiny hand reaching for yours.

Just stupid yearnings you tucked away before it could take root.

You shook your head, trying to laugh. “No, forget it. That was dumb,” you muttered. “I’m probably just missing you too much.”

The attempt at humor didn’t land, not even with yourself.

Shota shifted closer. His hand found yours, threading your fingers together.

“I don’t think wanting more is selfish,” he said, his voice low but certain. “And it’s not dumb.”

You stared at your hands, at the way his thumb moved in circles against your skin. “But we agreed—”

“We agreed on what made sense then,” he cut in. “That doesn’t mean we can’t want something different now.”

You fell quiet. And then, softly, almost as if he wasn’t sure you’d believe it—

“You’ve never asked for more than I could give. Not once. Even when you should have. So… be selfish. It’s okay.”

Your chest tightened. 

Of course he knew. 

Of course he’d noticed all the ways you held back. The weekends you gave up without complaint. The way you buried your feelings when his schedule didn’t align. The way you told yourself—and him—that you didn’t need anything else.

You thought you were being understanding. Strong. Low-maintenance. 

But he’d seen you. All of you.

And now, hearing it out loud, hearing him say it, had you remembering all the words you’d swallowed. But for once, they didn’t taste so bitter.

He exhaled. “I know I’m not easy. My job, the hours, the unpredictability… And yours is just as bad.” His eyes searched yours, steady and dark. “That’s why we told ourselves this was enough. Because we used to think people like us weren’t meant for that kind of thing.”

His fingers curled tighter around yours, guiding you gently into his arms. He pulled you in, tucking you beneath his chin.

“But right now,” he murmured, “it doesn’t sound so far away anymore. Doesn’t sound so foolish. Even if it’s messy. Even if we’re scared sometimes. If it’s with you… it’s something I’d want. And—”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

You felt it in the way his fingers stilled, in the subtle shift of his breath. For all the steadiness in his voice earlier, this part had been harder for him to say.

Your heart softened. 

Shota never fumbled his words, not even under pressure. Apparently even he had his limits.

So you tilted your head toward him, voice no louder than the hush between heartbeats. “And?”

He looked down at you, gaze steady. Open. “And I wonder,” he said quietly, “if it’s something you’d want… with me.”

You almost laughed, but it came out as a shaky breath instead.

Not because it was funny, but because the weight you’d been carrying—years of quiet yearning, careful restraint—suddenly felt so light.

All that time spent tiptoeing, stuffing those dreams into the corners of your mind, convincing yourself not to need too much… and he’d been thinking the same things all along.

You’d both been afraid. Overthinking the same silences.

But here you were.

Asking the same question.

And finally wanting the same answer.

“Of course I do,” you whispered, words thick with emotion as you hugged him tighter. “I always have.”

Something in you finally let go.

It hadn’t broken anything. Saying it out loud hadn’t made it fragile. If anything, it had stitched the two of you closer—tightened something that had already been strong for years, but now felt even more solid. More real.

“I mean,” you added, blinking quickly to fight the sting behind your eyes, “I wouldn’t stick around for eight years with your grumpy ass if I didn’t want to.”

That earned a small huff against your temple. The tension in his shoulders eased all at once, and you felt the exact moment his smirk formed.

“Grumpy, huh?” he murmured, mock-offended.

“You scowl, like, constantly.”

“I’ve saved cities with this face.”

You pulled back, snorting. “Yeah, by making villains think you’re one of them.”

His hand dragged lazily up your arm, warm and familiar. “You’re not exactly sunshine yourself, detective. Didn’t you threaten to arrest me the first time we met?”

You scoffed, indignant. “You were covered in blood and refused to answer any questions.”

“I did answer,” he said. “I told you it was mine.”

“After fifteen minutes of silence,” you shot back. “And only when I blocked the exit.”

You could still remember that moment with startling clarity—the way his capture weapon had twitched when you stepped into his path, the way your quirk had hummed under your skin, ready to activate. A standoff between two overworked, underslept people with too much pride and no patience.

“I was trying to avoid paperwork,” he muttered, but there was no edge to it now. Only warmth and a hint of amusement.

“And I was doing my job,” you said. “Some scruffy stranger ducking out before forensics arrived? Covered in blood? Yeah, forgive me for finding that suspicious.”

A beat. 

Then you both cracked.

Soft laughter spilled out between you, warm and unguarded.

He shook his head, his eyes crinkling faintly at the corners. “We’re so stupid.”

“Mmm. Speak for yourself,” you said, smirking. “I’m delightful.”

Shota rolled his eyes, but his grin gave him away. “Sure. That’s why I keep coming back. For the delight.”

“Damn right.”

Your smirk barely had time to settle before he leaned in. His lips ghosted over yours, not kissing, just letting you feel the possibility of it. It was enough to steal the smugness right off your face.

“Oh, screw you,” you muttered, and kissed him first.

He chuckled against your mouth, the sound low and warm, vibrating between your lips as you tugged him in by the collar. It started off soft, familiar, but the way he gripped your waist told you exactly where this was headed. There was no rush, but no hesitation either.

“I love you,” he murmured in between kisses, just barely.

Your breath hitched. Fingers stilled against his shirt.

But before you could say anything back, he took advantage of the pause—your lips parted and your guard down. He kissed you deeper, rougher. Tongue sliding in, stealing the words right out of your mouth.

By the time you pulled back, flushed and breathless, his hands had already started roaming. One arm circled your waist, pulling you flush against him; the other palmed your chest through your blouse. He gave a squeeze, and you let out a startled snort, half scandalized, half amused at the sheer nerve.

“Are we really doing this on my couch?” you breathed, not quite stopping him.

He glanced around, casual. “There’s a desk right there.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you mumbled, swatting at his arm.

“What?” he said, unbothered. “You were complaining.”

“Shota—”

“So the desk thing’s a no?”

You narrowed your eyes, already fighting a grin. “I thought you already knew I like it when you take charge.”

He laughed hard, his hand sliding beneath your thighs. 

You barely had time to react before he lifted you, strong and steady, his breath brushing your cheek as he carried you the short distance across the room. Mischief burned in his eyes. You could’ve walked, but that wasn’t the point.

He set you down on your desk with a soft thud, knocking over a pen holder in the process. Neither of you cared. Not when his fingers were already working open the buttons of your blouse, slow but practiced, like he knew the exact rhythm that would drive you just a little crazy.

The fabric slid open and his mouth followed—shoulder, collarbone, a scrape of teeth that pulled a quiet sound from your throat.

You arched into him, gasping, and tugged at the hem of his shirt in return. Your hands slipped underneath, dragging your nails lightly up his back.

He shivered. And you smiled.

You loved that. How easy it was to unravel him. How willingly he let you.

You tipped forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I love you too,” you whispered.

And just before things went further—before more clothes hit the floor, before the night dissolved into heat and motion—you cradled his face in your hands. 

You kissed him one more time. Gentle. Devoted. 

A seal on all the things left unspoken yet deeply and undeniably present.

Whatever the future held, you’d figure it out.

Together.

The lights were off, save for the faint glow of a desk lamp behind them—left on, probably, as an afterthought in the mess they’d made of the office.

The couch cushions shifted beneath his weight. 

Yn lay draped over him, her bare skin warm against his, cheek pressed to his chest, her breath slow. One leg curled between his. A hand rested lazily over his ribs. She was heavier now than she’d been an hour ago.

He wasn’t tired. Not yet.

His fingers moved through her hair, slow and steady. She liked that, or at least, she didn’t ask him to stop. Maybe she was asleep. Maybe not. He didn’t move to check, not wanting to disturb her. 

The silence was soft here, and they didn't get much of it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, just breathing with her. Letting the heat between them fade. Letting his body cool and settle.

She smelled like him now. Like night air and sweat and something sweet beneath it all.

He liked that more than he probably should.

They’d done this before, more than a few times. On couches, in beds, cheap hotel rooms. Hell, once on the floor of the dorms, curled up in his sleeping bag after she’d shown up past midnight with exhaustion in her voice and dirt on her boots. They were good at this—at catching up, making space, carving time out of whatever cracked hours they had left.

It always meant something.

But tonight felt different.

Not because of what they did.

Because of what they said.

His eyes opened again and he looked down at her.

Her lashes cast faint shadows across her cheekbones. Her lips were slightly parted, breath brushing warm against his chest. She looked… relaxed. Completely.

That was new.

Even asleep, yn was usually tense—wired from caffeine and adrenaline, her body half-braced for whatever new emergency might pull her from rest. But now… now, she was still. And Shota wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her this peaceful before.

His hand slipped from her hair, tracing slowly down the line of her spine. Not sexual, he’d done that plenty earlier. This was just… feeling her. Like he was mapping something fragile and didn’t want to leave a mark.

She shifted slightly, murmuring something in her sleep he couldn’t quite hear. Her face nuzzled further into his chest.

And that’s when he saw her hand again, splayed over his ribs. Unguarded and vulnerable.

He reached for it gently, cradling it on his own.

His thumb brushed over her knuckles, then down toward her ring finger.

And paused there.

Shota had never been a romantic. He wasn’t built for that kind of thing. Marriage had always sounded like too much noise, too many expectations. He didn’t think he had space for it in his life, and he didn't want to be someone else’s obligation.

He knew what it meant to be loved with conditions.

And worse, what it meant to love in spite of them.

But yn… she never asked him for more than he could give.

Never once made him choose.

And now, with her asleep on his chest, her hand in his, her ring finger bare beneath his thumb—he wondered, not for the first time, if maybe he could give her more.

Not because she asked.

Because he wanted to.

Not now. Not tomorrow. But someday.

When the world was a little quieter. When the nights weren’t quite so short.

He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to that ring finger. A soft, fleeting brush. Nothing she’d feel. But maybe something he’d remember.

She stirred faintly, but didn’t wake.

He exhaled through his nose, then tucked her hand to his chest. His other arm came around her, drawing her in closer, as if to shield her from the weight of everything outside this room.

He closed his eyes.

Sleep came easily now.

[fandomnerd9602]

Water Park Day

Wolf!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

It was a scorcher of a summer for you and your wolf hybrid mate at the Westview Animal Hybrid Sanctuary.

You were trying to keep all the hybrids and faculty members cool as the temperature neared triple digits.

Natasha was working with her adoptive father, the bear human hybrid you knew as Alexei Shostakov, on the A/C unit.

Alexei, his brownish-grey furred tail poked out from his reddish slacks, had his face shoved up the ventilation shaft, trying to fix the broken unit.

Alexei was muttering to himself in Russian. Due to hanging out with Natasha you understood parts of it. “Damn air conditioning unit…not problem in Siberia…where did I leave my vodka?”

Natasha looked to you as you approached. “It’s not looking good my hunter” she huffs. “A brand new unit completely shot”

“If I had some duct tape and a spool of thread I could fix it” Alexei mutters, his bear tail wiggling as his upper half was still stuck in the ventilation shaft.

“Papa you are many things,” Yelena says as she passes under him, “Macgyver you are not”

“I could be!”

“Alexei, it’s fine” you say softly, trying to reassure your future in-law. “We’ll just take a day trip somewhere”

“Where to? Siberia?” Alexei chuckles.

“How about a water park?” Tony asks with a swagger as he walks in. “Sorry about the unit, guys. I booked a water park for you guys just in case”

“Thank you Stark” Natasha says before pulling you close.

Your wolf mate whispers in your ear, a soft purr to her voice, “I finally get to show you my newest outfit, my hunter”, she tops it off with a little wink.

“Water Park Day it is” you manage to say as your face went bright red with a blush. Natasha’s tail began swishing playfully as a small smile made its way across her lips.

You, Natasha, Tony, Yelena, Kate and Alexei guided your entire sanctuary full of hybrids into the water park. You never saw their faces light up so quickly. Several took to the pools. The younger ones immediately took to the water slides. Kate and Yelena took the kid and infant hybrids to the splash zones.

Natasha gave you a little smirk, holding her beach bag close. “I’ll be right back,” she gives you another wink and walks into a nearby restroom.

Your eyes were locked on Natasha as she sauntered away. Your focus was broken when you felt the strong bear like hands of Alexei grab you by the shoulder and gently shake you.

The bear hybrid laughed softly as he got close to you. “I remember when Nattie first brought you home for Thanksgiving”

“You thought I was her mate”

“You denied it and now you are her mate. I am excellent judge of character” Alexei laughs.

Alexei stares into your eyes, “please take care of my little Nattie. She is grown wolf yes but to me…she will always be the little cub that I found”

“Yes sir” you give his hand a gentle shake.

“Good” Alexei grunts “I will be at poolside bar. If Stark is paying…” he laughs and heads over to the poolside bar.

Natasha taps you on the shoulder. “What do you think, my hunter?”

She stood before you in a scarlet red bikini that fit her perfectly, accentuating her already perfect curves. It didn’t help that her reddish wolf tail was gently swishing with her eyes locked firmly and seductively on you.

“I-umm…” you tried to say, “beautiful”

Natasha giggles, “thank you malysh”

That night you held your wolf girl in your arms, carrying her bridal style into your apartment. She giggled softly, just happy, tired and very content.

“I had a great day with you, my hunter” she yawns

“I had a great day with you too, my wolf”

You laid her down softly on your bed. Her tail wrapped around your leg. “Stay” she quietly whines

“Oh alright” you roll your eyes playfully before laying down and pulling her close.

“I love you, my hunter”

“I love you, my wolf”

Tags @lifespectator @supercorpdanbeau @pinklawyerwinnerzonk @multi-fandom-enjoyer @marveldcfandom @ma1egamer @russianredassassin @texaswolf23

[hoiststowline]

_ultra magnus x reader

distraction is scarcely a term within Magnus’ vocabulary. while he may be momentarily pulled from the task at hand due to unanticipated circumstances, he’s never found himself sidetracked by conversations or situations beyond his control. he’s learned to cast any and all doubts aside for the sake of the mission, consistently and constantly in search of the same goal he’s chased for many years. 

you’ve mostly, if not entirely disrupted and turned upside down his definition of adhering to a straight-lined, point a to point b schedule. in normal circumstances, such an interruption would have him seeing red, infuriated with himself that he was so easily cornered and strong-armed into yielding to such uncontrollable emotions.

how he’s ever previously labeled you a distraction was in poor judgment, and something he’d take back immediately if ever granted the chance. you don’t know he’d internally called you such, perhaps you never will- but it still carries guilt each time the memory crosses his path. you are a welcomed change of pace, a well received relief that has breached his gruff exterior and stiff personality. others cannot see what lies beneath, accustomed to his bluntness and unable to bypass his anti-social mannerisms. 

the harder he pushed you away, finding himself undeserving of your kindness, the more you retaliated and laboriously persisted. always gentle, but standing firm in trying to breach his armor to find the long stowed away compassion. little did you know, it was always there, reserved for someone special, never able to deny you in the minutest of situations. 

“That is now the fourth time you have woken yourself up,” Magnus rumbles somewhere above you, the servo that was draped over your legs curls a little more protectively around your form. “If you are tired, rest.” 

it’s extremely difficult to not succumb to the desire of sleep when he is so warm, the hum of his systems practically coaxing your eyes to slip shut. this always appeared to be the end result after a well-deserved reunion, exhaustion consuming you after setting sleep aside for a prolonged time, if only to spend the maximum amount of hours awake with him. last time you checked, it was nearly three am, and if Magnus was aware of the hour, he’d certainly be lecturing you on the importance of a good night's rest, even if his desire to remain by your side is just as potent.

“Are you going to?” you whisper, wondering if he purposely turned out all of the lights to his room, a ploy to drag you further into the clutches of sleep. 

there’s a blink of silence before he answers. “Am I going to what?” 

after poorly stifling a yawn, you attempt to tilt your head rearward to catch his expression. as expected, he’s peering down at you curiously, a simple raise of his brow alerting you all you need to know. 

“Sleep.” you return, head now resting on his upper torso as your palm splays overtop the servo at your front. “When’s the last time you got some rest?” 

a curt ex-vent is answer enough, but he still responds. “I hardly can discern how that is correlated to the matter in question.” 

“That probably means it’s been a while,” as your words begin to meld together, your focus returns to its original spot, the seams of Magnus’ digit as he draws absentminded shapes across the length of your leg. 

“A deal, then?” he hums, and you can feel him moving behind you, carefully lowering himself in full to the berth. 

you find yourself heavy-lidded once more as he runs his lips over your shoulder, then up to your neck, and lastly placing the third kiss at the crown of your head. every time, as if like clockwork, he always deposits the same three kisses in the same three places, an endeavor to try and get you to sleep. 

“I will,” he mumbles, nearly stumbling as you bundle into his side, impossibly tiny fingers grabbing at any plating that was within reach. as if he wasn’t quite close enough, needing him to be within reach at all times. “If you do the same.” 

“Oh…okay.”  and when he finally presumes you’ve drifted off, you slip a little deeper into his slide, kissing the top of his servo in one last unspoken good night.

[xuexing-lumi]

What’s Your Inner Calcifer Trying to Say to You? (Theme: Howl's Moving Castle)

(feat. Sophie, Howl, and everyone's favorite sassy flame)

If you’ve ever felt like your spark flickering, or like you're stuck honoring promises you don’t even remember making then this reading is for you. Inspired by Howl’s Moving Castle, this tarot journey channels your inner Calcifer.Your inner fire has something real to say.

Pick your pile. Let Calcifer talk.

PILE 1

PILE 2

🔥PILE 1: Sophie holding Calcifer.

✦ TAROT CARDS: Strength, Page of Cups, Eight of Pentacles

The Strength card shows that you’ve been soft when it was easier to harden. You've tamed your impulses, calmed your own storms, and kept going through grief and burnout. Your inner fire honors how you’ve protected it even in silence. Page of Cups tells me there’s a dream you’ve secretly been feeding. Something small, shy, creative maybe a story, a soft love, a new self-image. Calcifer says: “I know you’ve been scared to believe in it. But I’ve seen the way your heart glows when you imagine it. That’s your truth.” The Eight of Pentacles affirms you’ve been working on yourself steadily, even if no one sees it. This is the card of spiritual craftsmanship. You’re building your inner castle, brick by brick And guess what? That fire you’ve been carrying is the thing that’s lighting every room.

What does Calcifer want to say to you ?

“You’re like Sophie. You think you’re just ‘average,’ but you’re literally holding me....your fire.....in your own hands. You’ve been nurturing your spark even when you didn’t believe it was valuable. That quiet care? That fierce gentleness? That’s power.”

What is Calcifer's advice for you ?

“You don’t have to be loud to be strong. You don’t need to shout to burn bright. Keep nurturing that gentle flame. Hold it like Sophie.......with love, patience, and a bit of stubbornness. You’re not weak. You’re wise so don't listen to the stupid things they say and don't even bat an eye to their stupid actions.You are me, I am you”

🔥PILE 2: Howl holding Calcifer.

✦ TAROT CARDS: The Devil, Knight of Swords, Four of Cups

The Devil here screams of energetic entanglement. You’ve promised yourself to something that keeps you drained whether that’s perfectionism, emotional avoidance, or even love that isn’t reciprocal. Your inner Calcifer is tired.

Knight of Swords is the panic energy.....constantly doing, thinking, chasing, reacting. You’re stuck in a mental loop. Your inner fire is overheating. “You’re running so fast you don’t notice I’m flickering,” Calcifer says.

and Four of Cups? You’ve stopped enjoying the things you once loved. That’s a major sign your fire is low. You feel disconnected. Apathetic. But it’s not because you’re broken. It’s because you’ve left yourself behind.

What does Calcifer want to say to you ?

“You remind me of Howl......beautiful, chaotic,and hiding behind glamours. You’ve bound me to something out of fear. Maybe a relationship, an identity, a hustle. You’re burning yourself out to keep up a pact that your soul outgrew long ago.”

What is Calcifer's advice for you ?

"Break the pact. You don’t need to keep your fire chained to fear, ego, or expectation. Let yourself be reborn. You’ve glamoured yourself into someone else’s idea of ‘worthy’ but you were already magic. Choose freedom. Choose rest. Choose you.”

✦ do you want a personal reading like this?

🌸 I offer:

Celebrity Tarot Reads (K-Pop, BTS, Actors) SP Manifestation Guidance Future Love + Shadow Work Spreads Moon-Coded Letter from Your Twin Flame Channeled Audio Readings + PDF Summaries ✧ First reading? Ask for a free pull!

—

📩 DMs Open: @xuexing-lumi Tumblr inbox

🖤 closing words from Lumi:

We ride or die, even through the mess. 💅 — Lumi, the Moon’s Bride 🌕💋

—

(ignore):

#tarot#tarot cards#tarot reading#tarotblr#tarotcommunity#pick a deck#tarot pick a card#pick a picture#pick a photo#pick a card#spiritual warfare#spiritual awakening#spiritual growth#spirituality#chanelling

[cynthia39100]

Merlin rewatch -- S4E1: The Darkest Hour1

"You're not scared?" "Oh, I am, Merlin. Maybe more than you."

Amazing scene! Gorgeous from start to end. This post is going to be long.

Context, Merlin's magic was useless to the Dorocha. He dropped a candle and he was too terrified to retrieve it from the dark corner.

"Just, pick it up."

Love how gentle Arthur's voice was. His expression showed clearly that he wasn't impatient or anything. He looked puzzled. I think he didn't expect Merlin to be so visibly shaken. He thought Merlin was the bravest man he knew because Merlin always seemed unfazed in crisis (no more than Arthur, at least).

The lovely thing is that while he didn't expect Merlin to be as scared as he was, he didn't look down on Merlin just because of it. He told Merlin to just pick the candle up, not to mock him, but to make the situation more casual and less scary.

"Do you want me to get one of the maids to do it for you?"

Same here. Arthur saw how tense Merlin was and tried to lighten the mood by some light teasing. You can see Arthur didn't really mean it from his deliberately performative movement and quiet voice, like he was pushing himself to be funny.

"It's not a joke." "Yeah."

When teasing doesn’t work, Arthur was quick to concede and flip back to serious mode! It's so beautiful. He didn't look shock or offended, or even guilty, just quietly resigned, showing his understanding.

Then he goes to pick the candle for Merlin!! Truly a knight in shiny armour~~~

"You see, Merlin, I could never be like you. I could never let myself look so spineless."

They returned to banter, and I love the self-awareness in this sentence, a hint of Arthur's burden. He can never look afraid because he has to give the people confidence. In contrast, Merlin can (and most of the time, need to) show his fear because people don't look to him for courage (well, maybe Arthur does), and looking harmless is how he survives.

Lovely smile🥹Love these moments when their faces melted into a soft, genuine smile at the end of some jibing match.

I love how clear it was in the two actors performance that they were very much still afraid (and tired), and were only pretending to be casual. You can feel the effort they put it to keep their voice light and cheery.

A sudden noise had them both tensed up again. Arthur's face here!! At first glance he seemed relax and uncaring, still, only the tiny furrow of his eyebrow betrayed his calm exterior. So subtle yet so strong.

"You're not scared?" "Oh, I am, Merlin."

Then! Arthur admits that he’s scared!!! Out loud! The vulnerability on his face here was wonderful. I love how easily he said it. He couldn't show his vulnerability to his people, but Merlin was different. There was also a sort of comfort or validation in his admitting fear, like he was telling Merlin it's okay to be scared.

“Maybe more than you.”

Bradley was doing some amazing thing here. There's this tiny shift on his face after he fully turned and before he talked, that made him look incredibly soft and... indulgent? There was sadness too. Just, so many emotions there in his eyes and they were all directed to Merlin. So beautiful.

The smiles ahhhhh 🫠🫠🫠

What I imagine, Merlin was prompted to smile by the realisation that Arthur wasn't as calm/unfearful/oblivious as he appeared to. Arthur was smiling as a reassurance "yes, I'm the same, you're alright", and maybe also because Merlin finally smiled.

Colin’s face at the end is wonderfully complicated. It's returning to reality from a moment of break. But also, I wonder if a part of him was absorbing the realization that this was what Arthur always felt. This hopeless. It was probably the first time Merlin experienced what Arthur always had to deal with. And still, Arthur appeared calm and confident each time, giving his people hope. Merlin had known how strong Arthur was to be able to do that, but here he actually experienced it. It’s very, very lovely.

[S4E1] [other episodes]

[reijisteacup]

What if the boys had a sacrificial bride that had avoidant attachment issues?

uh oh...

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

He immediately recognizes your pattern — because he’s the same. He sees himself in your distance: the way you fake indifference, pull away when touched too tenderly, or dodge conversations that inch too close to emotional honesty. He doesn’t push. Not at first. But it kills him. You’ll be close for a second, maybe a rare quiet moment when you let your head rest on his shoulder—and then it’s gone. Walls up. Cold tone. And he’ll whisper lazily, “Do you really think I can’t tell you’re scared of loving someone?” He’ll use silence as a mirror. He doesn’t chase. Instead, he lets the weight of his stillness settle on you until you realize you miss his presence. And when you do? He’ll be there — slowly, consistently, unwaveringly. “I’ll just stay here. Until you believe I won’t leave… even when you do.”

Reiji Sakamaki:

This infuriates him. He views relationships as contracts of obedience and order — and your emotional distance is a disruption. He thinks, at first, that you’re being disrespectful. But when he starts seeing the pattern — how you flinch when praised, avoid eye contact during arguments, shut down when overwhelmed — a memory flickers. Of Cordelia. Of the emotional chaos he never understood. “So… you’ve been taught that closeness is dangerous. That needing someone is weakness.” He won’t coddle you. But he will protect you — with rules, structure, and quiet gestures of safety. He’ll notice you hide your vulnerability, and he’ll praise you when you don’t. He leaves notes like “You are permitted to speak your mind. I will listen. I am not your enemy.” He teaches you slowly, with fierce devotion, how to stay when it’s easier to run.

Laito Sakamaki:

He tries to laugh it off. “Aww~ You’re so mean to me, Bitch-chan~ Afraid I’ll break your little heart?” But it hits too close. He knows what it’s like to keep people at arm’s length because they always end up hurting you. And when he sees that in you? It rattles him. He flirts harder at first—testing you. But when you pull away too fast? His smile drops. “You’re like me, huh? Touch makes you flinch. Love feels like danger. That’s why I’m addicted to you.” He becomes serious in private. Gentle. Uncharacteristically patient. He’ll kiss your wrist and say “You don’t have to open your heart all at once. Just give me one crack. I’ll slide in and stay.” It’s terrifying. But he never leaves. Even when you shut down. Especially when you shut down.

Kanato Sakamaki:

At first, he takes it as complete betrayal. How dare you pull away when he needs love? Why won’t you sob in his arms the way he does in yours? Why do you go quiet when he screams for your affection? “Why won’t you cry with me?! Don’t you love me?! ANSWER ME!!” But the more time he spends watching you, the more he understands. He sees the trembling hands under the calm face. The way you soothe him instinctively, even when you’re dissociating. His obsession twists: he becomes gentler. He starts whispering instead of screaming. “You don’t have to be strong around me. I’ll cry for both of us… but please… don’t disappear.” He begins to treat your avoidant patterns like fragile glass — wrapping you in dolls, softness, lullabies. You don’t have to show him your pain. He’ll feel it for you. But if you try to run…? He’ll break the world to bring you home.

Ayato Sakamaki:

He takes it personally. So personally. You dodge his kisses? You avoid eye contact after you laugh together? You sleep with your back to him and pretend it’s just “habit”? He starts spiraling. “Tch, what? You think you’re too good for Ore-sama?” He lashes out, accuses you of playing games — but he doesn’t leave. Never. Eventually he sees the pattern — that your distance is fear, not malice. That you’re afraid of being seen and left. That’s when he gets quiet. “You know I’m not gonna disappear, right?” Ayato becomes loud in love — obnoxious even — because he wants to overpower the silence you carry. He yells “I love you!” until it forces its way into your bones. He pulls you close and won’t let go, even if you’re stiff in his arms. “You can’t scare me off, Chichinashi. So stop trying.”

Subaru Sakamaki:

“Tch… figures. Of course you don’t want to be close to someone like me.” At first, he believes your distance is disgust. That you’re afraid of his rage, his claws, his brokenness. So when you avoid cuddling, or tense up when he says something sweet? He implodes. He punches walls, mutters “I knew it. I’m too much.” But then he sees it — how you shut down when he cries. How you leave the room when things get emotional. Not because you don’t care — but because you care too much and don’t know what to do with it. So he starts knocking before coming near you. Speaking softly. Sleeping on the couch until you whisper, “You can stay.” He’ll never stop trying. Because he knows what it’s like to be scared of love. “I won’t hurt you. Even if you don’t believe it yet. I’ll stay until you do.”

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

He recognizes your pattern immediately. He reads you like a novel he’s already underlined. The stiff shoulders when he gets too close. The deflection when he asks about your past. How you smile and say you’re “fine” every time he catches that glassy look in your eyes. He doesn’t scold you for it. But he won’t let it go. “Livestock. You are not fine. You are surviving.” And that infuriates him — not at you, but at what made you this way. He becomes more structured with you, more protective. He won’t force affection, but he sets consistent expectations — morning tea, afternoon check-ins, nighttime reading beside each other. So when you inevitably try to withdraw, the world he’s built around you stays still. Solid. There. “You fear abandonment… so I will become something permanent. Until your silence becomes safety.”

Kou Mukami:

“Ohhh? Playing hard to get~? No kisses today, M Neko-chan~?” That’s what he says on the surface. Playful, teasing, flirty. But under that mask? He’s aching. Kou thrives on attention, on being wanted, and watching you pull away — no matter how soft his tone — hurts. He starts spiraling: “Is it me? Am I too much? Or do you just not care?” But then… he realizes. When you flinch, it’s not hatred. It’s fear. When you avoid eye contact, it’s not apathy. It’s protection. And Kou gets that. He’s lived it. So he starts putting the games down. Becomes softer with you. Quiet moments with music. Resting your legs on his lap even when you don’t talk. Letting his fans think he’s “busy” just so he can stay close. “You don’t have to perform for me. I already love the version of you that hides.”

Yuma Mukami:

He’s pissed at first. “Oi, why do ya keep runnin’ away every time I get close?!” He thinks you’re being stubborn. That you don’t trust him. He yells. A lot. But the first time he sees you sitting alone in the greenhouse, crying in silence because your heart can’t handle how much you want him but don’t know how to show it? He freezes. Yuma drops everything. He crouches beside you, big hands gentle on your back, voice low and gruff. “...You don’t gotta talk, okay? Just… lemme be near ya.” He starts showing up in little ways: placing warm food in your hands, letting you plant your own corner of the garden, brushing soil from your cheek instead of kissing it. He’ll wait. Even if you never say it. “I don’t care if you never tell me you love me. I’ll know it when you start stayin’.”

Azusa Mukami:

He never takes it personally. He sees the fear in your flinch. The heartbreak in your silence. Azusa has known pain longer than he’s known peace — and in your avoidant walls, he sees a reflection. So he doesn’t push. Doesn’t force. He simply sits with you in silence. Offers his hand, palm scarred, waiting. “You… don’t have to love me today… I’ll wait… until you feel safe.” He brings you soft bandages, warm tea, plushies that look like you. Talks to you about the pain in him, so you feel less alone in yours. When you pull away, he whispers, “I know. It’s hard. I’ll be here… when you come back.” And when you cry? He doesn’t ask why. He just holds your hand until you stop shaking. “You don’t scare me. Even if you leave… I’ll always be… where you can find me.”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

He is... confused. You’re meant to be his Empress. You were chosen. Why, then, do you flinch from his touch? Look away when he praises you? Shrink into the walls of the palace like you’re just another shadow? He tries logic at first. “You belong to me. You are safe. What is there to fear?” But when he sees the tears you hide behind politeness, the way your voice shakes when you try to thank him for kindness instead of just accepting it — something in him cracks. He softens. Carla begins to speak to you with almost reverent quiet. He stops demanding obedience and starts offering devotion. “I see the pain in your silence. You will not lose your worth by leaning on me.” He starts reading to you at night. Touches only your hand until you reach for more. When you finally collapse into his arms — trembling — he whispers, “Now… you begin to understand. You were never a prisoner. You are my heart.”

Shin Tsukinami:

“Tch. What, you think I’m gonna bite you if you get soft on me?” He takes it like an insult at first. You dodge affection? Pull away when he praises you? He thinks you don’t trust him — and that hurts his pride more than his heart. He snaps. Gets loud. Says something like, “Don’t act like I give a damn anyway!” But later, when he sees you sitting alone, hugging your knees, trying so hard not to cry — he realizes. You’re not rejecting him. You’re scared to need him. So the next time he sees you pulling away, he doesn’t yell. He just steps closer. “You wanna leave? Go ahead. But I’m not lettin’ you pretend I don’t matter. You’re scared. I get it. I’ll still be here when you stop runnin’.” Shin becomes the kind of gentle he swore he’d never be. Just for you. “I’ll wait. Even if it pisses me off. ‘Cause I want you. Not just when it’s easy.”

[charlie-shmarlie]

Steve Rogers with a chubby lover: headcanons

How Cap would treat his chubby lover ♡

Fluff ☁️

I am currently taking headcanon requests <3

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱✮▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰

You were always a little worried about what Steve thinks about your body, being that he's from a time when it wasn't generally accepted or seen as desirable. But let me tell you, you have nothing to worry about, and he will make that fact known to you as many times as needed until you believe it. He won't give up on you.

His favorite thing about your body is likely how soft it is-- hear me out. Steve is constantly on the go. His missions are long and taxing, usually leaving him dirty, sweaty, and exhausted, both physically and mentally. So, to be able to come home to his favorite woman in the world and lose himself in her soft, comforting warmth is heaven to him.

He'll just lay there with you wrapped up in his arms as he intently listens to you talk about your day, silently reveling in your presence.

He's very supportive. He will always encourage you to wear what makes you feel happy and comfortable. Don't think even for a second that he would try to steer you away from clothing options that "aren't fit for your body type."

Steve will NOT tolerate people talking down to you. He's not an ill-tempered man, but if he hears someone say something negative about you like that, he won't hesitate to bite.

You can always tell, too, just by his hardened expression and clenched jaw alone. Then he'll say something that makes the insulter feel like they've been pinned against the ground like a bug and can't answer without taking responsibility for their disgusting behavior.

"Wanna repeat that for me?" / "What's that supposed to mean?" / "Did you say something?"

His tone says he's calm, but his eyes are saying otherwise.

It doesn't really matter where you are, if he's sitting next to you, his hand will be on your thigh. It's a comfort thing for him. You'll occasionally feel a gentle squeeze now and then when he needs that extra bit of support. To feel you beside him a little more.

Loooves hugging you from behind and pushing his face into the crook of your neck, feeling your soft curves press against him.

He can pick you up with ease. All those other dudes with their weak little muscles ought to be ashamed cause this man can and will pick you up and carry you over his shoulder without any strain whatsoever.

Many of your nights will be spent curled up next to him, his strong arms securely wrapped around you and his chin resting atop your head while he murmers every little thing he loves about you in your ear. His hands roam your plush body, not in lust, but rather in a loving caress that perfectly translates his feelings in a way that surpasses even his words.

There's something about your stretch marks that almost fascinate him. If you'll let him, he'll spend a bit of time just tracing them over, enjoying the feel of them beneath the pads of his fingers

Steve is a gentleman. However, that man is not immune to seeing your shorts do that thing where they ride up your thighs a little when you sit down. He tries very hard not to let it take his mind to disrespectful places, but MAN--

Cellulite? He loves it.

Squishy sides? He loves that, too.

Plush arms? Can't get enough of them.

If you were to ever tell him that you wanted to lose weight, he'd support you all the way, so long as your motivations aren't harmful to yourself, physically or mentally. He would even help you get started, showing you better food options and some basic beginner level workouts.

But, when it comes down to it, Steve loves you because you're you. Whether you're chubby, mid-size, or slim, he loves you, and nothing could ever change that.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱✮▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

Neglected

A/N: Rafayel smut, p in v, mentions of masturbation, edging, little bit of Raf being a scent freak.

'Hey, cutie.'

'Uh oh,' said his muse as her back was pulled against the solid muscle of Rafayel's chest. 'I know that tone…'

'What?' he asked lightly, nipping at her earlobe. 'Am I not allowed to greet my bodyguard with affection?' He nuzzled the nape of her neck, pressing a tiny kiss there. When the smallest of shivers went through her, he smiled.

'You want something.'

'Just you,' he said. 'Missed you last night… where were you?'

'Hunting,' she said flatly.

'Left me in a cold bed… languishing…'

'Rafayel…' she made to turn in his grip, but he held her fast.

'Not yet.' His voice was soft, husky. His hands splayed across her belly, his hips rolling subtly against her ass. 'Feel that, cutie?'

Her breath stuttered. 'Shit- you can't just-'

'Can so,' he said smugly. 'You left me to deal with this mess myself. Imagined you so many different ways, angel. Sheer white lace like seafoam, blue-green silk, naked except for pearls in your hair…'

'Raf-'

'Don't you wanna?' He spun her in his arms, pouting a little. His eyes glittered. Slowly, he released his grip and stepped back.

'Of course I do,' she said. 'But you are a distraction and a menace, I need to-'

'If you're about to say work,' he said, suddenly stern, 'I'll- I'll-'

She waited, smirking. 'Yes?'

He shook his head, reaching out to close his fingers on the nape of her neck. 'Tell me no, then.'

She shook her head. 'Maybe I want a distraction.'

He gave her a beatific smile. 'Good girl.' And then he was stumbling, falling into his bed as she kissed him hard. It was just what he liked, seeing her above him like this. She hurried to guide his cock inside her, sighing in bliss. 'You goddess,' he said in awe. 'My love.'

'You feel so good,' she keened, hands splaying on his chest. ''M'sorry I left you alone…'

He rolled his hips slow, teasing. 'Have to punish you for that, cutie.' He watched her eyes widen. 'Stay still.'

'But-'

'Do as I say.'

She nodded, blushing furiously. 'Okay. Okay. I'm sorry.' She stilled. He moved so slowly it was maddening; her jaw clenched with the effort, nails clawing ineffectually at his skin.

'Gonna enjoy you all night,' he crooned.

He made good on his threat; Rafayel had waited years for this, his patience strong as silk. He pulled her apart gently, intensely, deeply. Each gentle push drew a gasp from her, tension and fire gradually building. He didn't even sweat, gazing up at her hypnotically as she trembled and broke under his gentle torture.

'Fuck- she gasped. 'I-'

'Not yet, cutie.' He grinned, enjoying how incoherent she was. 'A little longer…' And he slowed again, letting her passion quiet to embers. Just as her breathing steadied a little, he bucked into her hard and fast, rolled her over to press her into the mattress. 'I think you've paid your penance,' he said sweetly. 'Break.'

She screamed and he dove to claim the sound, devouring and hard, bruising. 'Mine,' he said. 'Always.' He tilted his head, grazing his knuckles over her cheek. 'I was being gentle before to teach you a lesson. Hold on tight.'

And every pull back and snap forward threatened to break the bed. His lips were on her neck, murmuring Lemurian into her skin, his hands palming her breasts, his cock going deeper- deeper-

'FUCK!' he roared, eyes rolling back, nails raking her skin as he came hard, driving it into her, a claim, a wish, a promise. 'Better,' he gasped. 'Now you smell like me. As you should. C'mon.' He lifted her. She whined in protest. 'I know. Don't wanna wash me off you either, cutie. But I made you sore, hm? You wanna walk tomorrow, right?'

'I hate you,' she muttered. He snickered.

'Yeah, yeah. Not my fault you neglected me and I had to punish you for it.'

'Love you,' she said, as he ran a bath. He kissed the tip of her nose.

'I know. And I love you, like the shore loves the sea.'

[ventique18]

How to depict breaking gender stereotypes the right way: ✅ Twst showing by action that men in Twisted Wonderland find it normal to put on makeup. Nobody comments on their preferences.

How to depict it the wrong way: ❌ Cringe ass books explicitly repeating how much the mc dislikes wearing dresses because she's a strong independent woman and frilly skirts are for helpless little girls.

I think books should normalize just casually saying that the girl wore a suit to the ball-- she just likes pants and nothing else. Stop narrating how annoying a goddamn gown is. Just because a woman likes dresses doesn't suggest she's weak.

[astrallar]

Ok, so here me out here

[faaun]

said goodbye to him feeling weird!

[orchidbutch]

i really do need to plan out how i'm gonna tackle learning to draw in like 8 weeks time... right now i'm just trying to draw a little bit every day to build up a habit, if i can't even do that i may as well just stick to doodling every like 6 months or wait until later vs. trying to make a serious effort at it WHILE ALSO trying to write/edit/etc like 2-3 fics.

doodling in itself is just fun :) i like it and am glad i have the simple tools to do it :)

[moe-broey]

Ooufhgh.

[your-internet-bf]

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

[a-a-lost-munchkin]

I Can’t Help But Wonder

Odysseus, who just violently and mercilessly murdered 108 or so men, who claims in the next song that he’s no longer a kind or gentle man, actively listens to Telemachus and kindly and gently responds to everything his son’s expressed.

Telemachus asks, “Am I like you? Am I strong like you? Will you embrace me? Will you love and accept me as yours?” He says, “I’ve felt so alone.”

And Odysseus claims him in a heartbeat, answering, “My son. My boy. My sweetest joy I’ve ever known. I embraced you twenty years ago. I’d do the impossible for you. I’d die for you.” He says, “Seeing the men here today, I can only wonder what you’ve been through for twenty years. My son, you’re already strong. You’re my own. You’re not alone. I’m home.”

And then they fucking embrace.