#this took me forever I am sorry

[artofalassa]

Nothing Beats Pizza On A Cliff

Right? And some things are said...

Part ONE | Part TWO | Part THREE | Part FOUR | Part FIVE | Part SIX | Part SEVEN | Part EIGHT | Part NINE | Part TEN | Part TWELVE

[lattien]

the silly mascot phone comic i got to make for @tgaaizine !! ✨️ thank you so much for having me 💖

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

Bucky Barnes | One Shot | My Queen

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Queen!Reader

Plot: The post-battle energy rush needs a release. Suddenly, there’s a willing soldier at your disposal.

Warnings: 18+. Smut and mentions of violence.

Words: 4OOO

“There are guests, Your Majesty,” John tells you with pity in his voice, not mentioning it because he thinks you have forgotten, but because he needs you to be aware of the important fact. If you tried hard enough, it wasn’t too much of a task to remember your duties and who those entailed, but it was a relief to have John around to remind you of such things, since you valued your duties and relations with the outside world dearly.

You glance around nervously and give him a guilty pout, grabbing the last of your belongings.

“I know, I am so sorry, but this is important. Send them a plane and I will get back to them as soon as I can,” you plead and quickly rush out of the room to the main entrance hall, John following you as you make your way to the prepared jet.

Mind occupied by making sure your small legion is armed and ready to go as you walk, you get brought to an abrupt stop when two large men block your path. Raising your head, you glower curiously at the rude interruption. As busy as you have been the past weeks, you study each and every encounter you plan, so you know exactly who the two men are.

“Captain Wilson. Sergeant Barnes.”

“Your Majesty,” Sam’s greeting is curt, yet kind. “I don’t suppose a sudden departure is part of your infamous warm welcome?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You have an awful lot of courage speaking to a queen this way,” you warn him, your tone formal before your features soften towards your guests. “But I apologise. Something important came up and I hardly think sending you into war with me is considered a warm welcome.”

The man you recognise as James Barnes lets out a humoured scoff. “Clearly, you don’t know us very well.”

Your eyes dart between the men suspiciously and a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, hardly able to contain it at the sheer boldness coming from the men. After a pregnant pause and your legion having left the hall to board the jet, you slowly turn to John.

“John. You heard the men. Get them suited and onto the jet.” Sharing one more glance with the men, your eyes lingering on the twinkle of mischief in Bucky’s eyes, you brush past them and step onto the plane without another word.

…

“It’s not often a queen goes into war with her people.”

“Well, unfortunately my legions are struggling on their own,” you explain to Sam calmly.

“What happened?” Bucky asks, brows pulled together in slight worry.

“John? Could you please bring them up to speed while I get ready?”

As John takes over and shows the two heroes what their next mission will be as they serve someone else’s queen, you step over to the side and let one of your generals help you suit up. Slipping into the modern metal, rusted with nano technology, the shimmering suit glides over your body perfectly.

From the corner of your eyes, you notice Bucky Barnes losing interest from John’s briefing and your eyes lock with his. There’s a rush of heat pulsing through your body at the sheer boldness of Bucky not breaking eye contact once he gets caught staring. His eyes rake up and down the sleek suit and lock back onto yours, a knowing smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth before he drags his eyes away and turns back to his previous conversation.

Leaving you absolutely flustered and furious.

Did he just ogle a queen?

…

Bucky is startled enough for it to nearly show on his face when he sees the feral look you have on yours. He knows that look, has worn it plenty of times himself. Battle doesn’t quite leave your body and mind as soon as it is over. Even with your spectacular win, which Bucky knows is mostly because of your reliability and skills as a powerful leader, the raging chaos of adrenaline lingers like you have days worth of battles to fight still.

He came in to check up on you post-battle, easily slipping past your guards, to find you pacing in your blood-splattered gear around the chamber before what he assumes is your bedroom. The hall is large and decorated wonderfully, but so very empty with your restless figure pacing through it. He’s certain he can feel your energy buzzing all the way up to the impossibly high ceilings.

Having enough decency to announce himself, he gently knocks on the door from inside of the room. When you whirl towards him in your frenzy, he finds it amusing enough to plaster a smirk onto his face. “Restless, my queen?”

You huff through your nostrils. “I still have fight in me.” He knows. “I want to kill them for springing that attack on us.” He knows that too, but the gravel in your voice awakens a slumbering beast inside of him and fire starts curling around his bones.

“I think you gave them enough hell for what they did to you,” he assures you and something in your eyes seems to soften at that. You did give them hell. Rightfully so.

“But this energy–” You shake out your trembling hands to rid yourself of that restlessness. Bucky nods and slowly prowls closer, hands gliding into his pockets as he slants his head to the side to observe you.

“I know,” he acknowledges, “it takes a while to wear off.”

“How do you handle it?” you ask him, taking a steadying breath as he crosses the room. “After a fight, how do you get rid of all of that energy?”

Bucky flashes you a grin, his brows raising with intrigue and a mischievous shimmer in his eyes. “I hardly think I could speak about such methods to a sophisticated queen.”

“Sophisticated, my ass,” you snap, narrowing your eyes at the broad soldier. “You hardly felt like you had to be appropriate when you were watching me put on this suit,” you say with a scoff, ushering to the intricate metals you’re wearing.

“In my defence, I hadn’t seen you fight yet. Whereas now,” he shrugs, “I’d prefer staying in your good graces.”

“You fuck it out, don’t you?”

Bucky’s blink is the only sign of his surprise and he cocks his head at you again. “Excuse me?”

“The only way to get rid of the energy after battle is to get your dick wet,” you clarify, “isn’t it?”

Bucky chokes on a laugh, stepping even closer to you now with his hands still in his pockets, close enough to make you have to tilt your chin up. “You have a filthy mouth for a queen,” he breathes and to accentuate his words, his eyes drop to said mouth.

“I didn’t become queen by being prim and proper,” you explain with a little less fire than you intended to say it with.

“No,” he breathes, “you didn’t.”

Another restless shudder up your spine reminds you of your predicament, your thudding heartbeat not coming to a rest. You sigh, searching those blue eyes still trained on your lips. “Care to help a queen out?”

“You want to see me bow for you again, don’t you?” He smirks and finally raises his eyes to meet yours.

You can’t help but smile slightly, giving him a guilty shrug, because yes, you loved seeing him bow for you earlier as you stepped onto the battlefield. Not just that, plenty of pretty men had bowed for you. It was Bucky’s willingness and respect as he took a knee for you that was particularly invigorating. He matches your smile and takes a long second to let you take in what he is about to do, before slowly sinking to his knees in front of you, steady hands moving to rest on your thighs.

“Your people are awfully lucky to get to serve you every day,” he murmurs, looking up at you with eyes of fire and submission. That manages to make heat surge to your cheeks and ears, swallowing hard as you take in the sight before you. “May I?”

It takes all of your power not to nod too eagerly before he starts working off the buckles and belts of your suit, the nanotechnology wingmanning perfectly as the metal retreats into the hard base of the suit.

Soon, you are in nothing but your underwear. Bones and muscles are trembling beneath your skin in response to forcing your body to be utterly still. Chemical reactions are ricocheting against the barrier of your skin to make you spring apart. So much energy. So much fire and passion and fury still roiling inside of you. A heavy blanket settles over it – desire. But before you can order him to act on it, Bucky comes back to a stand.

“Close your eyes,” he mutters.

“I’m close to fighting you, Sergeant Barnes,” you promise him, showing your active restraint, but deciding to close your eyes anyway.

He huffs a soft laugh and you feel his eyes burning into your skin, a knuckle brazenly trailing over your collarbones and down the centre of your chest. “I will take you up on that another day,” he answers and your blood heats up at the fact that Bucky revels in both of those sides of you. Most men cower at your bloodlust, but not him. He kneels before it.

Speaking of him kneeling–

“I didn’t tell you to get up,” you remind him and his hand pauses.

“I didn’t particularly think it would be fair to leave you standing as I proceed to immobilise your legs, my queen,” he drawls and you snap your mouth shut. Your eyes slowly flutter open and you find him having taken a step back, holding out his hand for you to take.

Carefully taking it with a questioning look in your eyes, Bucky leads you to your bedroom like he has been there a thousand times. Slowly and deliberately, he guides you to your own bed, still fully clothed himself in those black leathers.

“I expected it to be more rough,” you admit steadily. “Fucking out that energy...”

Bucky turns back to you, hands now on your waist as he pivots you with your back to the bed, the backs on your legs touching the foot of it. “Fucking you roughly won’t do the trick,” he explains. “Fucking you thoroughly will.”

If you weren’t quaking before, this would do the trick. Your heartbeat is pulsing between your legs, hammering for attention, the seams of your underwear teasing you more than the man before you. It paralyses you, that desire coursing through your veins like syrup, makes you fall quiet. Only for a short while.

“Then do it.”

Bucky’s brows raise again, not having expected you to fold so fast. “What?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” you hiss at him. “I need you to fuck me before I explode.”

Bucky smirks at you again and you’re so tempted to smother that smirk – you have your ways. “I am not yours to give orders to.”

You restrain from rolling your eyes at him, the close proximity making you prone to holding your breath and making your words coming out strained. “I’m not going to beg for it.”

“You already have,” he reminds you, not an inch of him giving away that he might be unravelling. “And I think you will, sweetheart. I think you are seconds away from begging for it.”

As if in answer to his outrageous insinuation, a shudder racks through your bones and flashes of that wild battle make your nervous system rush to life again. It’s so frustrating, to have so much energy begging to be released.

His solid eyes and steady hands on your waist make you want to sink into him for relief. You want Bucky to tear you apart, almost similar to the way he tore apart those monsters earlier. Calculated, precise and only slightly unhinged. His fighting earlier was like a choreography your body wanted to study and practice until it can memorise nothing else. The way his muscles moved, the precise strikes of his metal arm, the focused crinkles in his handsome face, his thick thighs planting him firmly onto the ground – your ground. Fighting for your lands. For you.

My queen, he had called you. You suppose he does answer to your commands, then. But you might just beg for it. If only because it feels so tempting. To whine for his pleasure, sob for it and make him serve you like he wanted to do earlier. How awful, for a queen to want to beg for it.

“Please,” you almost gasp from holding your breath for too long.

He hums, low and deadly, his finger kneading gently and appreciatively into your soft flesh. “That’s a good girl,” he murmurs and before you can shout in outrage, he slowly dips down and presses his pillowy soft lips to your collarbone, instantly making your head tilt backwards.

His hands pull you close enough for your front to be pressed to his and your hands automatically grab his shoulders. His lips part and his tongue traces a singular line over the thinnest piece of skin on your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His mouth moves up, tongue dipping in and out to raise your pulse as he suckles at your skin. Your fingers curl slightly and your body starts to nearly shake with jitters at the adrenaline coursing through you like an electrical charge.

Bucky bites down on the tense skin beneath your ear where he hums against you, the sound ringing in your head like a gong. His hands have travelled to your back, stroking up and down the bare skin until your bra pops loose with you barely noticing. You tremble with need when all you are left in are your panties and Bucky pulls away to once again sink down to his knees.

You swallow hard at his stare from below you and follow his silent command to sit down at the edge of the bed. Hooking his hands around your knees, he presses them apart and lifts one leg over his shoulder. Your fingers dig into the soft sheets with anticipation and you only break the intense eye contact to watch his tongue trace his bottom lip. He hooks your other leg over his shoulder and drags you to the very edge of the bed, getting comfortable on his knees.

“Is this where you want me?” he asks, but you don’t deign to answer him. “Kneeling before my queen.”

“Something tells me you don’t mind being there at all,” you answer tightly and his hands stroke up and down your calves lovingly. Bucky presses one kiss to your inner thighs, taking in a big whiff of air and groaning at the smell of your arousal.

“There is something about eating a meal on my knees that speaks to me,” he drawls, his eyes settling on said meal, only covered by the thin fabric of your panties. He presses another kiss, right over the damp fabric. You shudder.

“Then eat,” you bite back, scrambling to hang onto your power as a queen.

Bucky gives a wide grin, keeping his eyes on your soaking core. His hand lifts and his finger loops into the fabric, making you bite your lip painfully hard at the brief touch. He pulls the fabric to the side, spreading your legs enough for him to dive in, but not doing so yet. “That is no way to speak to your soldiers.”

Your soldier, Bucky supposes after today he is. You’re torture. Your smell, your voice, your body, the sheer power you have over him – over everyone.

Your hand finds his hair and you rake your fingers through the thick, brown tresses. Your eyes are soft when Bucky looks up to find them. “Will you take the honour of being my soldier?”

You’re genuine, he’s sure of it. Bucky can tell you’re asking him for so much more than just this. And considering his current predicament, he will consider his duties as your soldier later. Right now, he can only nod, entranced by the queen who has her legs wrapped around his head. He can only think of one duty right now and that is to rid you of all of that devastating warrior energy the only way he knows how.

Bucky buries his face between your legs and begins his feasting. Nudging his nose against your clit and prodding his tongue in and out of you. Licking every inch of your warm, wet, lovely cunt as if it’ll guarantee a place in your kingdom for him.

Sam will kill him for never returning home, but by the heavens, he can’t find it in him to care enough. Not with you tasting so heavenly and– fuck, those goddamn moans.

…

He was right, he was so fucking right. The slow and steady and longs thrusts make your body hiss in delight. The thorough swivel of his hips when he’s buried into you as far as possible, releases every bit of pent up energy that suffocates you. The sharp snap of his hips right as he’s about to hit home makes you shudder and sob, clenching around him every time as if you feel every thrust like the very first one.

Bucky strikes your deepest spot with each one, your hair between his fingers, your back arched to meet him and your cheek pressed into the mattress. Your eyes flutter painfully against your will, your toes curling when pleasure wraps around every abdominal muscle, your pussy spasming around him in need for release as the pressure between your hips grows to be unbearable.

The sounds that slip from your parted mouth sound inhumane. Soft and pitiful whimpers between huffs of breath. Oh God, oh God. You need him to slow down for a second, except he’s not going fast at all. He’s slow and deep and oh God, he’s so fucking deep.

You grapple for a grip in the sheets, any tether to reality slipping from your mind after every move he has already made. The last of your control, your power as a queen, slips away from you on a phantom wind, desire clouding every piece of domination inside of you. It’s all his now, you are all his now.

Within a short second, you get hauled up by your hair, arched against his heaving, sweaty chest until his mouth nips at your earlobe. Your hands grab his hips behind you, nails digging into his firm skin.

“You still there, my queen?” he coos, and you feel his grin as his mouth grazes over your neck possessively. Your answer is the harsh tightening of your nails into him and the groan he lets out makes you clench around him wantonly. “Oh, somewhere. You’re somewhere in that sex-riddled brain of yours. Losing your mind a little, are you?”

You swear you mean to speak a sentence – a word, at least – but the sound that comes out sounds like another garbled moan and Bucky laughs at your demise. He quickly presses a loving kiss to your shoulder, a deep thrust settling him so deep inside of you, you flutter helplessly around him.

“Don’t worry,” he hums, another deep thrust following as the hand in your hair slips to securely grip your throat and move your ear back to his mouth. “Next time, I will let you take the reigns. You can tie me to the bed and use me to make yourself come. I’m looking forward to it, actually.” You pulse around him and he snickers. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Prefer to have control and use the ones that serve you.” He bites your ear softly and squeezes your throat. “Oh, but you look so pretty like this. Don’t take this away from me, sweetheart.”

It's a whirlwind of emotions that rush through you at his words. You feel his desperation to have you like this seep through his ignorant confidence having you exactly like he wants you. The last of your working brain cells are screaming yes, yes, yes at his request. You’ll let him have you like this every day for the rest of your life. And it flashes before your eyes, him waking you up by slowly fucking you, hand back in your hair and lazy mouth muttering filthy things against your skin. God, he’s filthy.

Your vision is swirling as his pace picks up and blood flow to your brain is slightly limited by his grip. Ecstasy is rushing through your head and limbs with heavy tingles, and your moans raise in pitch. The metal hand bruising your hips with its possessive grip, slides between your legs and messily toys with your clit, the feeling making you want to buckle over.

“Shit!” you gasp and throw your head back into his shoulder, thighs quaking at the stimulation. Too much, it’s too much. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel every inch of him glide in and out of you with an ease and precision that feels degrading and embarrassing. Bucky’s breath is equally laboured now and his grip on you turns from possessive to desperate, like he cannot get enough of you into his hands.

“Come for me again, my queen,” he purrs in your ear, knowing what that term now does to you, and you nod blindly. Following his command blindly, unable to resist the feeling of his deep thrusts and his firm circles on your clit any longer, you let the warmth of your orgasm consume you. You tremble and shake and stiffen at his touch and he doesn’t stop. “Come on, keep coming. Keep fucking coming, baby.”

You choke out a sob, surely drawing blood with your nails as you gasp for air, for any word to make him ease up on you, but he only stops when you buckle over and your trembling form succumbs to the sheets below you. Curled up on the sheets, bearing the waves of pleasure that haunt your every nerve, you feel Bucky’s exhausted and sex-glazed eyes watching you carefully. You faintly feel the trickle of him come pulsing out of you and it nearly makes you smile.

Two hands, one scorching with heat and one a welcome cool, gently stroke up the sides of your thighs, cooing sounds coming from Bucky as he watches you come back to your senses. Lips follow his soothing touches, warm kisses being pressed to your quickly cooling skin.

“How’s that post-fight energy?” he asks softly and your eyes finally flutter open to meet his curious ones, the blue shimmering with… Pride.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”

He laughs, “Again?”

You breathe a soft laugh and he at last presses a kiss to your lips. If you had the energy, you know your body would betray you by lifting your head to chase his lips.

You finally let out a defeated sigh, letting the corners of your mouth lift to a lazy smile. “Thank you.”

“At your disposal,” he mutters back with slight amusement and you open your eyes again to look at him. God, he’s beautiful.

“Are you,” you dare to ask, earnest in your eyes, “at my disposal…?”

“It would be an honour.”

“Likewise.”

“That is more than I’ve ever had before.”

“The honour?”

He nods. And then leans in, his mouth brushing your ear as your eyes flutter closed again, goosebumps rising over your skin. “I will bow for you any day,” he breathes softly, “my queen.”

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

Doc is really, really, really tired of getting dragged into things.

That’s the problem with this server: he tries to do his own thing, but people cannot leave him alone. No matter what he does to deter them, whether that be harmless threat or psychological warfare, they always come back to dance on his metaphorical lawn. Or actual lawn. Or precious one-of-a-kind bush.

And at this point, he thought he had gotten used to all the shenanigans. He doesn’t want to be the grumpy old man amongst his friends and colleagues, so Doc tries to laugh it off, not take it so seriously. Occasionally, he’ll even join in on the jokes and put a little extra pizzazz into his mannerisms. Doc has his limits, of course, everyone does, but he’s been working on pushing those limits further for the past while.

So when Beef makes the joke about Big Salmon on day one, he joins in on it for the moment. It’s a good joke, really. It gets a hearty laugh out of him more than once. The joke is made, people laugh, Doc is included, he moves on and goes back to doing his own thing.

Honestly, he doesn’t even remember what he said. The joke should’ve been a one-and-done, forgotten after a week’s time. Whatever he said should’ve been inconsequential. Should be. Beef’s not one to drag out a bit for that long, usually, but here he is, dressed as a salmon and saying he got emails from a fish. Doc is utterly clueless throughout most of it- he doesn’t even understand what constituted him getting dragged in this time. And the way Beef and Skizz are talking is scaring him, just a little bit. Skizz is too aggressive, Beef is laying down the charmspeak, and both of their eyes are glossy and strange. There’s a hollow echo in the room.

But Doc, absurd as this is, plays along. Watches as one of his villagers gets killed. Lets nervous laughter through as he’s given 10 salmon heads, and leaves. When he gets back to his base out in the middle of nowhere, he realizes that these aren’t normal salmon heads, they’re worse: deformed, many-eyed, slimy and reeking of rot. And while this isn’t the strangest thing Doc has seen, as far as he knows, Beef isn’t one for game-breaking like he is. The deformities on the heads don’t even look player made. Whatever this is, it’s bizaarre, and it’s not something Doc wants to be involved in.

Then the whispers start.

He doesn’t do what he’s asked—build a shrine for whatever Big Salmon is—initially. He lets it be for a bit, shrugs it off, and keeps building. But it’s hard to focus when you can’t sleep—in his dreams he’s drowning, sinking deeper and deeper, sea life surrounding him and screaming and he’s screaming too as a pair of eyes stare him down—and when you can’t get a moment of quiet. He keeps hearing that damn slapping sound and little nothings about shrine schematics, block pallets, glorious statues. The air starts reeking of rot, far more than a swamp should. Strange slime crawls up the scaffolding that he keeps slipping on.

And this is why Doc is tired: Big Salmon is not his first rodeo. This isn’t the first time something has grabbed hold of his soul and tried to puppeteer it to his own demise. This isn’t even the scariest thing he’s come across- he still dreams of watching himself rip his own arm off. He knows gods and entities like he knows redstone, all the intricacies of magic that weave through the universe. They want to be satisfied, satiated. Doc will not give whatever Big Salmon is that satisfaction, not for long.

So he puts up with the rot, the slime, the dreams. Keeps the salmon heads, perpetually grotesque, in a chest where he can see them. Gives them a minuscule in: blueprints are crafted of the shrine he is meant to build, dying leaves are placed and waterlogged, copper is bent and formed into a worthless statue. The sky is cloudy. The sky has been cloudy all week, swamp air thick with the smell of rotting fish. He gives Beef a call, tells him to bring Skizz along.

When what should be Doc’s friend arrives, he is more fish than man. The tinnitus-like whisper of the thing trying to get him reaches a roar as he gives Beef a look over- there is no telling where the suit ends and the skin begins, all scaled, slimy and opalescent. Skizz, on the contrary, is looking relatively normal; the only strange thing about him are his glazed over eyes. Something about that makes Doc queasy about his plan, but he swallows the bile rising in his throat and steels himself, forces himself to be calm. This is not his first rodeo.

Doc’s faked smile doesn’t fail him as he leads Beef and Skizz to the statue. It doesn’t fail him as he hands the last rotting head to Beef for him to place, on top of an over-polished button. His grin only widens as Skizz counts down his boss pressing the button.

With a single button press, the voices that have taken residence in Doc’s head are wiped out, as are Skizz and Beef: bloody…fish…bits fly high into the sky when they fall into the exploding trap. There is a deafening boom, and then there is Doc, unscathed, laughing wickedly, organic eye sparkling with mania. Gods never win against him. There is no winning against the goat.

And finally, with the threat of Big Salmon defeated, Doc can finally rest. After all, he is incredibly tired.

[bamsara]

ARSON PLUSHIE ARSON PLUSHIE ARONS PUSEH AJARONS MASAJLKRHSKLHFLKHLK FHLK AUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!! AAHGHHAH@@ LKASHLHS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

@darkraven2994 I LOVE HIM. HE IS SO CUTE AND WELL MADE AND IM SO HAPPY AND HONORED IM AKLSHLKSGHS

[deadmothsketches]

Don't feed the plants.

[disorganised-bagel]

hello again tumblr :) today i bring you stage craft studio perfectdolls <3

tiktok link, in case anyone wants it

(song is 'despair' by leo.)

[lovesickeros]

lord its so dark in here the sahara desert of tsaritsa content you are like a shining oasis. your characterisation of her compels me & mihoyo would be hard pressed to top it imo.!! caaaaan i humbly request yr thoughts on her first meeting w a reader of any kind, or maybe even multiple kinds (sagau, sagau god au, isekai, etc) if you so desire...

it really is like a desert here. being the fan of a character we aren't getting until the last damn nation is driving me up a wall but i will persevere bc if nothing else i support morally bankrupt women in media. we r in a severe drought over here but i do my best. unfortunately nothing i say is ever coherent so pull out your translation notes its abt 2 be messy

also this got out of hand but thats bc first meetings w the tsaritsa are tricky to write + a LOT of her characterization lies in deeper exploration then just surface level yknow...NOT A DIG AT YOU this is just my excuse for rambling. gently pats the tsaritsa she can hold so much complexity i do not have the word count to delve into it completely :]

gonna talk cult au for a bit here though because that's 99% of my content. and honestly? she thrives in sub au's of the cult au like villain au + imposter au. it's basically made for her. i mean, early days, the imposter au had been going around for a little while but one of the first few ideas was the Fatui taking reader in so like. it kinda technically actually was. pretty sure cult au Tsaritsa popped up because of the imposter au. a lot of it's writers kinda left though which. man am i getting old or.

anyway.

there isn't much of a chance her first impression is all that positive. at best it's usually neutral, imo, but rarely if ever positive. specifically because i view the Tsaritsa as someone who isn't as fanatical as most of the acolytes typically are towards the creator. she's not exactly going to worship the ground you walk on unlike a certain geo lizard. which is partially why i think she thrives in the sub au's i mentioned.

imposter au, for example. she meets you at your lowest. there's no gaudy extravagance or pampering from the acolytes waiting for you because your own acolytes have turned on you. for all intents and purposes you aren't a "god" at all. which is why i don't think she meshes well with normal cult au reader. the Fatui are made up of outcasts, basically, and imposter au slots right in just perfectly. you're weak, at your lowest, when you meet the Fatui in the imposter au. and the Fatui can help you, too.

a mutual exchange, really. the Tsaritsa sees a tool she can use to one up the rest of the nations and especially Archons, and she has no qualms about you using her and the Fatui in turn. you both want something out of it, after all. whether you just want to be safe from the rest of the acolytes, or you want revenge, or whatever else..she'll give you the power to fulfill it, and she gains the strongest piece on the chessboard when all is said and done.

the best way i can describe the first meeting is "practical", i suppose. she sees an opportunity in you. the ultimate gamble. because if she "saves" you, and you dont trust anyone else because they tried to kill you, well..she holds all the cards, doesn't she?

but the Tsaritsa, imo, is just as capable of being just as fanatical towards you as anyone else. she just won't worship you as the creator. but as yourself? clawing your way back to your divine power and taking back what belongs to you? the Tsaritsa is, to me, a character who's character flourishes in long-term fics more because she changes a LOT between "just met reader" and after having been with reader for some time. she's practically apathetic at the beginning but a lot of her character, in my characterization, shines through LONG after the first meeting.

[spicyboelives]

your avi/persona is sick af i love it, have a nice day chili pepper person !! 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Thank u! He is my final and most powerful form! I made him 2(?)years ago after seeing everyone in my group chat with lil avi/personas, not knowing that was a thing, and wanting to be cool too.

[angellayercake]

Banchetto: Contorno

Papa Emeritus III x Reader | NSFW

AO3 | Secondo Piatto | Masterpost

To avoid a soggy mess, it is advisable to properly prepare your aubergines. The stems can be removed or left on depending on preference. You liked leaving them on. This is the type of dish that could be eaten hands on, so the stem offered a good hand hold and you did favour a more rustic style of presentation. They still needed to be cut in half lengthways, however, so you could scoop out the seeds and softer flesh leaving the shell to be filled later. They are sprinkled with salt and left to sit to allow the excess water to be drawn out, to prevent the aforementioned soggy mess. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The next morning when you let yourself into his rooms it was almost like everything was back to normal, except it wasn’t, not really. Your stomach was filled with butterflies as you approached his rooms but it was not accompanied with dread this time. No, the urge to avoid him had well and truly left you and instead you were excited to see him. You hadn’t slept much the previous night but unlike the last time you weren’t agonising over every moment of your interaction you were relishing in it. His relieved smile, the warmth of his lips, the way his body felt pressed against you. But as much as you were revelling in the knowledge of your reciprocated feelings, a part of you still couldn’t quite believe that he felt the same. It was almost simpler before when you thought he just considered you another conquest but it was something else entirely to think that you had somehow, well you weren’t entirely sure what it was yet but it definitely seemed like more than just lust. 

To your surprise he was already up when you arrived, and you hoped he had the same overwhelming urge to see you as you did him. He was curled up in one of the overstuffed armchairs in his sitting room, half drunk cup of espresso in one hand and his chin resting in the other. Still wearing his soft pyjamas and with his tousled hair he gives you a sleepy smile as you walk towards him. The change in him hit you then as you remembered the closed off and aloof man that you had encountered when you first began working for him.  

‘Buongiorno Sorella,’ he greets you as you pause beside him. You want to reach out or kiss him or smooth his hair back or something but you become slightly paralysed by indecision. This is all so new you aren’t sure what signs of affection are welcome, but before things become too awkward he reaches for you pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand, his eyes dropping closed as he hums to himself. ‘Thank you for coming back.’ 

‘Nothing would have stopped me coming back Papa,’ is the overly honest answer that springs from you almost unbidden. You feel your face flushing at the admission but when he quirks his eyebrow at you fixing you with a faux annoyed expression you realise your slip up. ‘Terzo,’ you correct and the smile he gives you makes your heart race.  

‘Good girl.’ Simple words shouldn’t affect you this much, especially not this early in the morning but you also can’t help imagining him praising you in other scenarios. Thankfully before you can follow that thought to its conclusion he continues. ‘Now mia cuocoina could I trouble you for some breakfast?’ The request comes along with wide pleading eyes and try to pull off some air of professionalism. 

‘Of course Terzo. Any requests this morning?’ he barely even pauses for breath before he gives his answer.

‘Remember the ricotta pancakes?’ You do remember the ricotta pancakes. He had moaned when he had taken his first bite then asked for seconds, and then thirds. 

‘The ones with the berries and whipped cream?’ He nods eagerly and you can’t resist pressing a kiss to his cheek before making your way to the kitchen. ‘Should I double the recipe this time?’

‘Oh por favore,’ he calls, twisting in his chair to watch you go. ‘And perhaps another coffee too?’

‘Coming right up.’ It was going to take some work you think, to balance everything the two of you have going on. But you felt good about it. As long as you were careful you could navigate this thing together and it certainly helped that you enjoyed looking after him like this. You have to try not to get ahead of yourself but you think that you might always enjoy it. 

‘I don’t know what I did to deserve you Sorella.’ The hushed way he says it makes you think perhaps that wasn’t for you to hear so you just get to work on his breakfast. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

The beef steak had been freshly minced that morning, still pink and juicy as you transferred it to the preheated pan. The finely diced onions and garlic were already fragrant as the meat began to sizzle. This was to be the base of the filling of the resting aubergine shells. You pinch in the seasoning as it begins to brown sealing flavour into the meat and before continuing you drain off some of the juice pooling in the bottom of the pan. Skinned and slightly over ripe tomatoes are added next, soft and sweet then finally the previously scooped aubergine, both cooking down into a rich paste. You leave it to simmer and thicken and intensify all the combined flavours. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

You knocked on the frame of his open office door, juggling the box of coconut ice and the notes you had made from the notebook. He doesn’t even notice the first time, so absorbed in his paperwork so you try clearing your throat pointedly and when that similarly fails you just walk in. You and Copia are familiar enough that you hoped he wouldn’t be annoyed and frankly he looked like he needed a break. It was a poorly kept secret around the Abbey that a lot of Terzo’s responsibilities had been reassigned to the Cardinal, at least until the future if the Papacy was decided and looking at him it was clear to see.

‘Cardinal?’ You finally get his attention but unfortunately he almost falls out of his chair in shock.

‘Sorella,’ he gasps out, settling back in his chair and straightening his biretta. 

‘How can I help you today?’ He smiles at you but his eyes look tired and you notice him massaging his hand underneath the table, which was understandable given the mountain of paperwork he had already worked through that morning. 

‘I do have some questions.’ You wish you had thought to bring some coffee along with you but alas you only have your surprise treat. ‘But I have a surprise for you first.’ You place the box of coconut ice on his desk in front of him and he carefully opens the lid, eyes lighting up when he sees what's inside. You had shaped them into little rats with whiskers, ears and tails. 

‘Oh Sorella, look at them!’ He lifts one out of the box admiring the details you had added. ‘And coconut ice is my favourite. Would you like one?’ He offers you the box but you shake your head in refusal. 

‘No thank you. They are all yours.’ He nibbles at the one in his hand at first, taking little bites from the but after a moment demolishes it all in two bites. ‘Mmmm Sorella, grazi, grazi.’ He wipes his gloves on a tissue he pulled from somewhere on his desk and looking more alert after his sugar boost he fixes his attention back on you. You had thought long and hard about asking for help with the notebook. Since your reconciliation dinner with Terzo he had not mentioned it again and without broaching the topic with him you sensed he didn’t want to discuss it. But you were running out of recipes at least ones that made sense. It seemed to you that some of the instructions had got lost in translation and while your knowledge of cooking could fill some of the gaps your complete lack of Italian was surely holding you back. 

It wasn’t any easy decision to seek someone out however. There were only a few people on hand that even spoke Italian well enough to be of any help and they all were close to Terzo unfortunately and keeping his trust and confidence was even more important to you now then it was before. The compromise you had come up with was to just copy out the parts that were causing you issues, in both the Italian and English and then with a little help you would be able to understand the recipe. However you still had to choose carefully who you approached. Even with such little context you had the feeling that both Primo and Secondo would understand more than you would like and given Terzo’s many frustrations about his brothers interference in his life you didn’t want to create more opportunities. 

Which only left Copia. He was spared much of Terzo’s ire and as he hadn’t grown up with the brothers you hoped he would be less likely to understand what he was reading. You quickly explain that you have been studying an Italian recipe book but were struggling with some of the instructions. That you believed that there had been some errors in the translations as they made little sense, at least in English. He nodded along listening to your explanation in silence but helping himself to another coconut rat while he waited for you to finish. 

‘Where did you get this book if you don’t mind me asking?’ His question makes you wince. You had been hoping you could skim over that.

‘I found it, already translated, Cardinal.’ It wasn’t a lie as such just not the entire truth but he sensed he shouldn’t push this line of enquiry. You hand him your notes and he flicks through them eyes darting back and forth over your writing. 

‘Typically it does help when translating texts to have the full text. Context is often one of the biggest clues to finding the closest translation.’ You are starting to lose hope that you will ever get the help you seek. But he places your notes next to one of his piles of paperwork and gives you a smile. ‘I will see what I can do for you Sorrella, leave it with me. But if you could get me the full text this could be a lot quicker and easier.’

‘I can’t give you the whole book Cardinal I am sorry,’ you wince, feeling terrible to be adding to his already considerable workload. ‘I can write out some more detailed notes for you though if that would help?’

‘That would help, si. I also think a few more of these coconut rats might help as well?’ You know when you are being blackmailed but it makes you laugh. Of course you could spare the time to make him some more treats, especially as you were asking so much of him.

‘Thank you Cardinal, really.’ He gives you a warm nod before sighing and picking up his pen ready to get back to work but as you leave you see him sneak a third coconut rat out of the box. You better get working on more straight away. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

Using a clean cotton cloth you pat away the moisture released by the aubergines so they are ready to be filled. While the sauce cools you prepare the rest of the toppings. Some just stale bread ready to be crumbed will serve well to add a bit of crisp texture to the topping. Thick slices of mozzarella that will melt perfectly over the surface and help seal in the filling. And then just for the presentation some thinly sliced plum tomatoes and delicate basil leaves. The assembly is quick and easy and then all that is needed is a low, slow bake in the oven.  

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

‘Mmmm,’ you hear him call from the doorway. ‘What is this that I smell cara?’ You roll your eyes at him good naturedly. ‘Surely the most delicious meal that has ever been made in this kitchen?’ He is always so enthusiastic in his praise of you but you enjoy it even if it feels unwarranted at times. He leans in the door frame just watching you for a moment before he comes closer eyeing up the food you have left to stand. ‘I am starved! Can we eat now?’ He pulls plates out the cupboard eagerly which you take from him gently and place them to one side.

‘We?’ You ask, slapping his hand from where he was reaching for the still steaming food. ‘You need to be patient, it's still too hot.’ He takes your hand before you can move away, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pulling you close.

‘We, mia cuocoina,’ he spins you both into the centre of the kitchen until you have room to sway together. ‘Because you are having dinner with me tonight.’ He phrases it as a statement not a question so you don’t bother to respond instead allowing your head to come to rest on his shoulder. He allows you a moment before he pulls back, arranging you both into a more formal dancing stance. ‘Do you know how to waltz?’ he enquires fixing the position of your arm where it is loosely draped over his shoulder. 

‘A bit, the basic steps I suppose,’ you reply but with no further explanation he begins to lead you around the small space. Your pace is slow at first, giving you time to find your rhythm and stop tripping over your own feet but then you are elegantly spinning around the room to a song only he can hear. ‘I didn’t know you could dance.’ you say as he expertly spins you away from him and then back into his waiting arms.

‘You wound me cara!’ He says with a mock pout. ‘You have seen your Papa on stage, no? You have seen he has got the moves!’ He demonstrates his point, twisting you fluidly until you are looking at him over your joined hands as you circle around each other. 

‘I seem to remember a lot of tripping and falling over,’ you tease and his frown only deepens. ‘And a fair amount of thrusting.’ As soon as you realise what you have said you feel your cheeks heat. 

‘Ah, I see.’ A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as his frown smoothes out and is replaced by a smug grin. ‘Too distracted by my hips to notice anything else eh?’ With a complicated tangle of limbs you don’t quite understand you end up back in his arms and being dipped dramatically. ‘Perhaps we should be doing the tango instead of the waltz.’   

‘No, well I mean I don’t know the tango, but anyway,’ you take a deep breath and calm your thoughts. He flusters you so effortlessly. He eases you back upright and you pick up the basic steps of the waltz again. You fiddle with the seam on his shoulder and try and form some coherent thoughts. Finally you can look at him again, the fondness in his eyes calming you further. ‘You never did anything like this.’

‘Well there was one time with a man dressed as a nun, but that’s besides the point, cara.’ His expression seems to glaze over as he pauses. ‘My mother taught me.’ He looks happy as he delves into his memory. ‘She taught me a lot of things, mostly I don’t remember but the dancing I do.’ He begins to hum as he drifts away, you suspect it is the tune you have been unknowingly dancing to this whole time. 

‘For what it is worth, you are very good.’ He smiles in spite of the sadness in his eyes but you don’t push, he will share with you in his own time. You gently squeeze his hand bringing him back to the present as the timer starts to beep.

‘I have a lot of moves I think you would like, mia cuocoina,’ His gaze is intense as you break away to finish preparing dinner. You know he is just deflecting from a vulnerable moment but that doesn’t stop his seductive drawl from drying out your mouth and weakening your knees. You quickly make up your plates as he helpfully sets the table but there is a tension simmering between you. You drop the plates onto the table and take your seat adjacent to him, his eyes following you. It feels like you are on the precipice of something and you are ready to throw yourself off the edge.     

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • •

When time is up they have turned out just as you had imagined. Creamy cheese covering the top and even spilling slightly down the sides. Roasted tomatoes oozing juice and the slices of basil caught in amongst it all. Finally golden toasted breadcrumbs topping everything else. They look delicious but it is best to let them rest a while until they are a sensible temperature for eating as tempting as they are straight out of the oven. 

• • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • 

He takes his last bite groaning in satisfaction as he slouches back in his chair. He rubs at his full stomach, lifting the hem of his shirt in the process that tantalising glimpse of skin catching your eyes again. In all the emotional uncertainty you had mostly been able to ignore your lust but now, now after days of barely there touches and soft kisses you needed more. You watch him stretch again and your memory helpfully provides you with the sight of him pleasuring himself, now you know deliberately just so you would find him and the feeling of his hands on you, in you, when he cornered you at the stove. You need him and you don’t want to wait any longer. When you come back to the present he is watching you watch him, a knowing smirk on his face. 

‘You look hungry still, is there something else you need to satisfy your appetite?’ He questions as he rubs his slightly protruding stomach again, rucking his shirt up even higher as he watches your eyes follow his movements. You try to think of some witty response but when he pushes his chair back and spreads his legs for you you end up knelt in front of him before you can even register making the decision. Resting your hands on his knees you wait for his consent to touch him further even as you see the beginnings of a bulge growing in his trousers. You think again of the night against the stove, the shallow thrusts against your ass and his hardness pressed against you. You can’t wait to see him, feel him, taste him. 

‘Go ahead cara,’ he nods down at you, as affected by your position as you but hiding it better. You hesitate a moment as you decide where you want to touch him first but then that bare skin between his waistband and his shirt calls to you and you know exactly what you want. You let your hands run slowly up his thighs, thick but you can feel the hard muscle underneath as you squeeze, over his narrow hips and then you pause when you reach his waistband. He takes a deep breath, the tension rising between you as you inch closer and closer. He nods, barely perceptible but it’s enough to end your hesitation and then you are touching his bare skin. You push your hands up his torso, his shirt bunching up around your wrists and your fingers raking through the soft hair that covers his chest. You can’t help pushing your face against his soft stomach, tracing the new soft curve with the tip of your nose and then your tongue only relenting when his huffing laughs almost cause him to double over. 

‘That tickles, cara,’ he warns, weaving his fingers into your hair and trying to gently guide you away, but you aren’t quite finished yet. You press firmer kisses to him, the soft give of his flesh only encouraging you further until you are nipping and sucking marks into his skin. His laugh turns into quiet gasps and you can feel his cock straining urgently against your chest and you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. Following the trail of hair leading into his trousers with your kisses you and when you arrive you waste no time undoing the fastening so you can free him from his constraints. 

Your mouth starts to water as you finally free him from his trousers, so eager for him but first you take your time to admire his perfect cock. It’s pretty, you think, although you will definitely refrain from saying so out loud. The line of hair you had been exploring previously leads straight to a carefully groomed salt and pepper patch that his cock curves upwards from. It’s sizable, longer than it is thick and it tapers slightly towards the head, which as hard as he is is flushed a lovely shade of pink. Struggling to get to the rest of him you sit back in frustration and help him out of his trousers completely. He spreads his legs, giving you plenty of room, and you have kept him waiting long enough. 

You start at the base, leaving wet open mouthed kisses where his cock meets his balls. Woking your way up you trace all the veins and ridges you can feel with your tongue taking your time to map as much of his cock as you can reach. When you reach the head you tease at his slit, lapping at the precome that had gathered there, your first taste of him making you moan as you gently suck and kiss at his sensitive head. You barely notice his hands weaving into your hair until his grip is tightening and he is pulling you up to look at him.  

‘Teasing is fun up to a certain point, cara.’ His voice is low and stern, shooting straight through you. He traces your already swollen lips with his thumb, slipping it into your mouth to press on your tongue, leaning in to kiss you as he pulls it out with a string of your spit spilling out onto your lips. He has never kissed you like this before, demanding and forcing his way into your open mouth. If it wasn’t for his firm grip on your hair your legs might have given out but he keeps you exactly where he wants you as he ravages your mouth. ‘ My patience is running out,’ he growls as he pulls away. 

‘I don’t mean to tease Papa, I promise,’ you rasp, voice already wrecked and you had barely even begun. ‘I’m just getting to know what you like.’ You wrap your hand around his cock, working him slowly. You spit into your fist, your attention so far not quite enough to ease the friction and you watch as his eyes flutter closed as he considers your request. ‘Please let me finish, I will do whatever you want afterwards.’

‘Whatever I want, eh?’ You can see the possibilities going through his mind as he looks between your hand on his cock and your face. ‘Ok, yes, you can continue.’ He leans back in his seat and loosens his grip in your hair until you can move again. You continue jerking him and move straight to his balls, sucking one into your mouth and rolling it on your tongue, his surprised moan filling you with satisfaction. You switch your attention to the other as you notice his breathing quicken and his cock start to twitch against your palm. Licking your way back up to the base you gently suck at the skin there, simultaneously massaging the head of his cock with your thumb, his twitching continuing and his gasping breaths becoming choked off moans until he breaks. 

‘Enough,’ his strong hands bring you to the head of his cock. ‘Now I want you to swallow me. Whole.’ He gives you a couple of seconds to catch your breath and then he is encouraging you down his length. You sink down slowly, swallowing as you go and willing your gag reflex to cooperate. ‘How much can you take cuocoina? Can you take my whole cock in that pretty mouth of yours?’ You take it all, the tip of your nose pressing against him and he groans. You slide your tongue against the underside of his cock as your throat constricts around the intrusion and you can feel how he twitches, leaking down the back of your throat.  

‘I’m close already,’ he tells you, encouraging you to bob your head on his cock. ‘See what all your teasing has done to me.’ You cup his balls in one hand, massaging them as they tighten against his body in the build up to his orgasm. You brace your other arm across his stomach so you can dig your fingers into the softness of his tummy, moaning around his cock at all the ways you are affecting his body. ‘Will you let me cum in your mouth cara?’ He growls, fighting to delay the inevitable. You continue pleasuring him hoping the way you look at him conveys your agreement. ‘You did say whatever I wanted, si?’ You nod as best you can with his cock lodged in your throat. When his hips start thrusting up into you and his fingers start digging into your scalp you know how close he is pulling back to suck on the head of his cock until he starts to spill his load into your mouth. 

‘Ahhhh, yessss,’ he moans so loud you would be surprised if he couldn’t be heard outside his rooms. You suck him through the aftershocks holding his come in your mouth until you pull off. You take him in in his post orgasmic haze, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath and his head tipped back against his chair. You squeeze his thighs gently to get his attention and he manages to drop his chin to his chest looking down at you through half lidded eyes. Opening your mouth, you show him you have yet to swallow his cum. His eyes darken and his cock gives a valiant twitch as he realises you are waiting for his next instruction. 

‘You may swallow now cara mia,’ he orders and you do as instructed, swallowing deeply then licking your lips. He holds your gaze, as if he is waiting so you open your mouth to show him how well you had followed instructions and he smiles at you warmly. He pats his thigh and you scoot closer resting your head against him.   ‘Good girl,’ he sighs, raking his fingers through your hair straightening out the mess he had made of it earlier. You enjoy the shiver of satisfaction that runs through you at his praise and in your contentment you doze off resting in his lap.

[fauxbia]

shoves this incomprehensible mess of stupidly complicated lineart at you and runs

[murdleandmarot]

@pinkieclown HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(This is their oc Oopsadaizee!!!)

There’s a right side up version under the cut :)))

[suuho]

Do Kyungsoo as Go Dooyoung Hyung | 형 (2016) dir. Kwon Sookyung

[moeblob]

I unfortunately picked up Bravely Default 2 again (I bought it back when it released) and then started over since I last played it in June 2021. And. You know what. I like these silly beans. And then I saw concept art for Dag's expressions and I am not the same. Why did they decide to give him huge fangs in it.

(also I'm trying so hard to avoid spoilers less for plot but more for characters so if you know anything that happens to characters shhhhh. also the expression concept is below the read more so you can see what I mean.)

[fortjester]

swimming pool by the front bottoms // the bear (2022 - present)

[philicheesecake]

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