#too busy dancing to do anything else i can respect it

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[cryobabyy]

cooper adams has a mommy kink. take this where you please

what is it finna play.........WOAH

NSFW UNDER THE CUT (lowkey a whole ass fic)

Okay so obviously, the man has some serious rules. He's meticulous, well-organized, and a master at compartmentalizing each section of his various lifes; Work!Cooper, Dad!Cooper, Husband!Cooper, and ofc 'The Butcher' (He rolls his eyes when the media starts calling him that. He thinks it's corny and tasteless lol.). It's all neatly organized into little sections that never touch.

HOWEVER, he has an urge that doesn't fit in with any of the tidy little pockets of his life he's curated. He's in control. Everything has a time and a place. So he would have to carve out time to explore the urge.

ENTER YOU; a broke college kid who has a weird little escorting side hustle. Every weekend you let some well-to-do older guy take you out to dinner, and buy you something expensive in exchange for your time and attention. Sometimes they ask you to do weird shit, like send a video of you stepping on a cake, or spitting in their mouth. Textbooks are expensive, so you usually agree for a price.

You get a Tinder message from a dude named Cooper. He has two pictures. Cropped pictures from the neck down. One with his shirt on, one with his shirt off. He's got this fit dad bod thing going on. Nice.

At his request, you meet at a sports bar.

Oh shit??? He's tall? and attractive??? You're a professional though (kinda), so you remind yourself that it's strictly business.

Cooper is extremely charming, he makes you laugh, and he tells you he's divorced and never had kids. He's a police officer, nearly retired. He shows you his badge because he doesn't want you to feel unsafe. Seems legit. He tells you he's just looking for some company, but not anything more.

You tell him about yourself, that you're a sophomore in college, you're supporting yourself, and doing stuff like this was more enjoyable than signing up for Uber.

Cooper is having a blast listening to you prattle on about your cute little life. He thinks you're adorable and pathetically naive. You believed his song and dance, and for that he respected you. He liked that, in a way, you're a hustler just like him. In another life, he would have liked to keep you in a cage like a pet bird. But he likes you, so you get to live.

You're having fun..... like maybe too much fun. If this were a normal date and not a mutually consensual transaction, you would have wanted him to throw you over his shoulder and take you home.

You share buffalo wings and a couple drinks. It's so casual, you forget you're technically working. He's a gentleman, he walks you to your car. You're kinda disappointed the night is coming to an end, so you perk up at his request.

"I'm having a great time with you, and I don't want to be too forward, but do you think we can take the party somewhere else? I can make it worth your time."

You're at a crossroads. Prostitution is illegal, but is it still prostitution if you really, really want to fuck this 6'3 silver fox? You don't even want his money at this point, you just want him.

"What is this, a sting operation?" You're only half joking. He laughs.

"I wouldn't have told you I'm a cop if it was."

You tell him you don't want his money, that you're in the back of his black SUV, straddling his lap making out and undoing his belt buckle because you want to.

He looks up at you and nods. "Yes, m'am."

It clicks right then and there.

this man wants to be dominated.

you experimentally put a hand to his throat and squeeze.

He groans in response, bucking his hip upwards. You can feel him straining against his pants underneath you.

Holy shit, this 6'3 cop wants you to make him your bitch. The plot twist of the century. You thought you were going to be the one tied up.

"You gonna be a good boy for me, Cooper?" You use your free hand to push a silvery strand of brown hair behind his ear. You've done some weird shit before, but nothing like this. You didn't exactly hate it either.

He nods eagerly, his breathing labored. "I'll do whatever you fucking tell me."

You decide to test some boundaries and give him a sharp slap across the face, and he keens like a little slut. Holy shit this is really happening.

"Watch your fucking mouth."

He's a mess, cheeks red, hair in his face. He looks up at you, and you see something that looks like equal parts hate and admiration in his eyes. It's low-key scary, but you're also soaking fucking wet.

"I'm sorry." He grits out, rutting his constrained cock against your thigh.

You move your leg away, he groans at the loss. You hold his jaw between your index finger and your thumb.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry, mommy."

Whaaaatttt???? Okay be cool, be cool, you got this

"Good boy."

In the dark recesses of Cooper's mind, he observes the situation he's put you in as a third party. He came here to get an itch scratched, and what a fucking relief it was; to be safely out of control in a controlled environment.

He asks for permission to eat you out.

You make him beg for it. Tell him he doesn't deserve it.

"Show me how bad you want it." You tell him to touch himself.

He pulls himself out, you look down in between your mostly clothed bodies and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep your cool.

He's becoming incoherent, a breathless mess. He's begging you to let him touch you. Your resolve crumbles at the sight of him, wet lipped, dark-eyed, and heaving.

"Don't disappoint me, Cooper."

AND THATS ALL HE NEEDS TO HEAR

He wastes no time getting your back against the backseat door and your legs spread and your panties pushed to the side. You nearly forgot he was twice your size and could throw you around like a doll if he wanted.

He's ravenous. Like he was starving.

The man has talent for eating pussy, clearly.

You have a hard time keeping up your end of this dynamic because this motherfucker (lol) is making your legs SHAKE. You have to bite your lips to stop yourself from begging him to just fuck you.

You come in like 60 seconds obviously, the sound that rips from your chest makes you sound like a preening little bitch.

You grab a fist full of his hair to regain some control, and he groans into you.

You quite literally have to pull him off you lol

You're completely lost in the sauce at this point

You don't even know who's really in charge here??

Doesn't matter because you're already half hazardously pulling his jeans down his thighs and he's pushing your leg over his shoulder.

You use one hand to dig your nails into his ass, and the other to hold him by the throat.

Despite you being in control, Cooper sets a punishing pace, and you can't find it in you to reprimand him or whatever you were supposed to do. Instead, you just grit praises through your teeth.

"You're such a good fucking boy, Cooper. Such a- fuck. Say it. Whose mommy's good boy?"

He doesn't say anything for a second, so you plant a sharp little slap across his face. He groans.

"Answer me."

"I am."

"That's fucking right, baby." You croon.

That seems to send him right over the fucking edge.

When he comes inside you, he puts his full weight on you, wraps his hand around your neck, and makes the most intense eye contact you've ever had in your life. It startles the fuck out of you.

His final thrusts are punctuated by hissing swear words. "Fuck. Yes. Fuck."

And then??? it's just??? Over???

He pulls off of you, tucks himself back in his pants, and smooths his hair back into place.

(CONTINUED IN SECOND POST LOL)

[monimccoythings]

Random headcanons of Alastor and his child!reader

This will mix headcanons from both the living and the afterliving times.

Tw: Controlling behavior, implied cannibalism, references to murder.

This is not proof read so I apologize for any grammar and vocabulary mistakes.

Your home is always filled with music. Be it the radio, a record player or him singing. There's always someone playing a tune. Even now at the hotel you can always find him in one of the common rooms humming a song or with his cathedral radio on.

Loves dancing with you, you'll be helping him cook and next thing you know he is swirling you around the room, music mixing with your combined laughter.

From a very young age, he will teach you to love the radio. He is immensely proud of his job (the legal one) and wants to share it with you.

Likes to treat your wounds and illness the traditional way, just like he used to when you were alive. You got a scratch? He is cleaning it for you and bandaging it up. You are down with something? He'll wrap you in blankets with a hot water bottle and feed you old family remedies and warm soup. If the wound or illness is way too severe to his liking, he will immediately make it go away with a snap of his fingers, otherwise he just likes to act like your caregiver and mother hen you.

Really loves to pull the 'single hardworking dad' act that makes the mothers and female teachers at your school swoon. He is not really interested in pursuing anything further with them, but boy, does he enjoy the attention.

He likes to check on you while you are sleeping. Sometimes he just stays there, quietly watching you sleep, his ever present smile growing bigger as a sense of pride fills his chest.

Lots of dad jokes, I think he's the only one who could pull it off and have everyone laugh. It goes with his radio host charisma and personality.

He does your hair. This man has singlehandledly researched and become well versed in the art of braiding hair. Braids, pigtails, or just brush it, you call it, you got it.

Alastor loves control and having power over people, he is the kind of dad that will subtly talk you out of doing something he doesn't approve of, just using his inmense charms and smooth talking skills to convince you into thinking this was your decision after doing some critical thinking. "Cher, I don't think you should do X, how about you do Y instead?" "I'm sure your friend is too busy to hang out today, why don't we go to the ice cream shop?" He won't ever put you down or make you feel bad about anything, but if you are deviating for the path that he has already set for you (the safe path) he will immediately persuade you to go back to the right way, his way. In Hell that aspect of him has become a million times worse, since he has already lost you once and has become someone with many dangerous enemies who wouldn't hesitate to use you to get back at him. His overprotectiveness and controlling behavior skyrocket when he becomes a demon, which eventually will come back to bite him in the ass.

Doesn't like having anyone question about your biological parents. He is your parent. You don't need anybody else.

Alastor is not fond of physical affection, unless he is the one initiating it. But, since he has had you since you were a baby, he has mostly grown used to your touch. He has become proficient enough in detecting your moods that he knows exactly when you are going to need a hug, a kiss or some other kind of physical comfort, so he can get ahead and start the contact first. He admits that one of his favorite ways nowadays to show affection to you is ruffling your fluffy hair, lightly tickling your ears, his eyes fill with joy when your ears get all twitchy.

Your room back at the hotel is a carbon copy of the one you had back when you were alive, but bigger, and with a private old timey bathroom. Alastor likes to come in whenever he pleases, he is the unliving embodiment of "I'm respecting your privacy by knocking but asserting my authority as your parent by coming in anyway". He even said so once. Word by word.

You can't stand Mimzy. Sorry, it's a fact, she always gets your name wrong and only comes by if she needs something from your dad. She seems to not be very fond of you either, can't understand why in Hell Alastor would waste his time so willingly just to take care of a snooty brat that ain't even his. But your father seems to like her enough, so you swallow up your critics.

When he was alive, and came back from a 'hunt', he always brought a little memorabilia for you, maybe some old watch, a fancy toy or trinket the victim had on them at that moment. Whatever little thing that wasn't too incriminating and pretty enough to be worthy of you. Now that you know the truth, you can't stop wondering with dread if every little thing he gifts you belonged once to a poor tormented soul that crossed in his path.

Might had fed you human remians in his stews. He utterly denies it, claiming that he would never do that to your delicate stomach. But the suspicious way his eyes quickly dart around the room, makes you think otherwise. It was the Great Depression after all, food was scarce. You'd rather not dwell too much on it or you will never eat anything ever again.

He is a monster, and it pained you to have been so blind all these years, but even after discovering his true nature, the only thing you could say about his parenting before that terrible night of the discovery, was that he was an excellent dad, a tad bit overbearing and overprotective, but a great parent nonetheless.

[novembermorgon]

could you tell us more about myrielle and aerion’s twin sons?

YUPPPPPPPP!!!

whew . ok .

left is maegor right is aenys . maegor is a few minutes older than aenys

neither of these guys are anything like their namesakes. maegor from birth is small and weak and sickly - he's pretty easy to get along with and agreeable by targaryen man standards, very polite and soft-spoken. to me he's almost like a rapunzel figure in that myrielle keeps him inside most days because she fears he'll get hurt or sick - she dotes on him and cares for him but never truly offers him much freedom to do as he wishes, the way she does aenys. he wants to go out and wants to experience new things and be more bold like his brother but every time there's sort of a block in that he doesn't have the courage to or myrielle convinces him that he can't. he, in a sense, is raised more like a princess than a prince and sort of falls into that role despite his status. i feel like he's drawn to more feminine ways of presenting himself and more ladylike activities; dancing, singing, sewing, reading ..

whereas aenys is the complete opposite - he's essentially just a copy paste of his dad LOL definitely aerion's golden boy . he's strong and bold and good at fighting, does all his dad asks of him, goes off with him to hunts and tourneys and charms people at court without really needing to try . of course being a copy paste of aerion targaryen also means he's kind of an asshole and if youre hanging around at court and you think about him being a prince with real power for too long your stomach probably hurts a little . aerion telling him tales of how he aimed for the horse during one of his jousts once to win and aenys going ohhh!!! yess!! so cool!! i also want to be in the business of fighting dishonorably. gets a little too heated in the training yard with the other lord's sons and knocks someone's teeth out and they have to put him in timeout once a week.

they're. hmm. i think there's an inherent sort of resentment there between them that begins as soon as they're born, just by virtue of being so different, and by being named Maegor and Aenys. you cannot escape your fate you cannot escape the cycle of your family etc. and i think that there's a lot of things here that kind of work against them .... aenys resenting maegor for just so happening to be older and therefore being heir despite he himself feeling as if he's better suited, maegor wanting the freedoms that aenys is given by virtue of being their father's favourite and being a second son with less responsibility. they can find a thousand reasons to hate each other, but at the same time they do love each other and know that they are, inherently, tied together by virtue of being twins. the twins we see in asoiaf are very insistent on the fact that they are tethered, they are one soul in two bodies, they will never truly be apart.

aenys hates maegor for being weak and for being heir even though their father doesn't like him, even though he has none of the qualities aenys loves about himself, even though he's more like a daughter than a son - and even still, he loves maegor, he wants to keep maegor safe from the horrors of the world before anybody else ruins him and takes all that's good about him away from him. maegor hates aenys because he's rude and terrible to him, because he's never respected him, but loves him so dearly because he's the only person in the world who will look on his flaws and be able to feel some sense of genuine pity or affection - the only person who will always feel a responsibility to love him so entirely and wholly because they are twins and have that bond that will never go away no matter what.

in my mind the themes of gender in asoiaf is very interesting especially in relation to the targs in that their relationships are .. a lot stranger .. in a lot of cases. you are twin brothers, but your brother is more like a girl than a boy. you know that if things had been only the slightest bit different, you would most definitely be betrothed to each other because your family traditions demand it of you. how would your love be different, then? would it be any different at all? would that be better? would it fix any of our problems? what am i meant to feel for my brother when every part of our family history is built on a wife's suffering, an incestuous misery that never has an end, when we are so nearly brother and sister ...?

they're complicated . and difficult to describe ... a relationship built on shame and not understanding each other and not understanding what you feel for each other .

i'm a little undecided atm what to do with maegor .. he is a bit of a mystery in my mind but when he's ~15 give or take aenys suffers a little (bad) jousting incident and ends up with a bad leg that he pretends isn't there because he doesn't want to be deemed weak by his father or by court and a case of head trauma that makes him Worse . sort of henry viii esque . he eventually marries a velaryon girl ...

there's also the secret third sibling (bastard sister) but i'll discuss her some other time ....

[mrs-monaghan]

Hello Shaz

I would love to hear your opinion on 3D and all the talk around it

My thoughts on the talk around it is; "wow, well this is a load of garbage" (no offence to any friends I may have who don't like the song I just disagree that its a terrible song)

Alright. 3D. Let's talk. My thoughts. First, what's with the fucking homeless trousers??

I hate rich people 😭😭😭😭 if I wear this people will wonder why I didn't go back home to change after I fell in mud 😪

Anyhu, before i even say a thing. We should probably all try to remember that JK said this

(Thanks @chicknbunny13)

Yeah sure, even if he doesn't write a song, he may resonate with it. But not everything he does is a reflection of his actual life. This one, is for the Jikook antis btw. This is why my anons are still off. People, I dont have the energy for antis rn. JK sang 'girl' so what? This topic is super old and tired and consider it officially retired from this blog. I'm sooooo over it 🥱🥱🥱🥱

Now that we have that out of the way let's tackle the fact that our JK is a grown, grown adult. I don't need to bring back the live where he told people he's an adult and he is almost 30 and he will do what he wants to do. And if he wants to sing about this, that's exactly what he will sing about.

Oh my,

Even Jimin knows all about it

Tweet

BAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!

Let is be known i am choosing to take that sentence literally. I think JK just means him, the girl, with champagne and confetti. I really don't think it means anything else here. But, seeing as this is another sex song, I won't put it past him.

Anyone else notice a recurring theme here?

Okay then. 😳

Also shout out to this random kid with the horse

I can't be the only one who has no clue what his point was 😂😂😂

While we are on the champagne topic,

I mean....

Make no mistake, SEVEN and 3D are singing about the same thing. If SEVEN was in your face, 3D is subtle. But they are both just talking about sex here. Which is why it doesn't make sense to me why people are so upset??? As a person who likes Harlow and has heard his songs before, this did not shock me one bit. There is nothing wrong with this song. It is meaningless and shallow but guess what, thats the type of music the GP is listening to rn. I understand why Asians have an issue with this line

And I can respect that. I don't have to understand it, but if Asians say its offensive, then its offensive. In which case I think that's just ignorance on Harlow's part. The people behind the song and JK himself are not going to okay something degrading. So it is of my opinion that people are reading too much, way too much into something that aint even meant to be deep.

It's a song, about sex. The only thing deep about it, is the holes that will be getting penetrated.

This song doesn't require to be analysed. Okay, maybe when trying to decipher the analogies being used but that's it. JK has one agenda and one agenda only; release music that the general public will devour, get his name out there and be a huge pop star. And it is working.

Cue Boracity's new video about each member and who their target audience are for each solo project

JK did not write these songs. If he did I'm sure they would have more meaning. But that's not what he's aiming for rn. Right now the man just wants to put out something that he knows will sell. Wants to put out something that will be a hit. And 3D is exactly that. Just like SEVEN. Mans was asked for the meaning of the song and by his answer, I'm not sure even he knows.

What??

Did anyone understand that???? If you did, break it down for me coz I did NOT understand that 😂😂

This song has no meaning. Its shallow, catchy, easy to remember and move to. Enough with trying to complicate shit! It ain't that deep. Period.

JK cared more about the choreo.

While Jack is calling himself a whore for wanting 4 women, JK is busy dancing throughout. So I will listen to JK and enjoy the song and choreo. Because there is nothing in the lyrics and there was never intended to be.

Idk why y'all mad when we stan a consent king:

Personally I dont have time to be angry because 1) i see no reason to be, and 2) i am too busy admiring JK's body proportions 🤤🤤

Damn, Jimin's man is hot!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[meowzfordayz]

when they’re inebriated — inosuke, tanjirou, giyuu

Author’s Note: took a slightly diff angle than the OG prompt, but am content w/ the fluff + softness of the results.🤗

when they’re inebriated — inosuke, tanjirou, giyuu

Hashibira Inosuke x Reader, Kamado Tanjirou x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000

CW: alcohol, explicit language

Emergency Request Fulfilled: If you're already busy you can just ignore this but I need some drunk inosuke/giyuu/tanjiro defending their (afab preferably) partner. Been having a hard time and this would be so sweet. You can choose whatever else but at least this. Don't rush it tho take your time!!!

~faqs~

Drunk + Inosuke = defending your honor against anything and everything, anyone and everyone

Mirror looking at you funny? 🪞😒 He’ll punch it if you don’t stop him in time 🪞🥊😤

Someone tries to compliment you? He’ll unceremoniously shove himself between your bodies, which would be sweet if that someone was actually harassing/threatening you 🥲

“Inosuke, honey…” amusement tugging at the corner of your mouth

“WHAT?” eyes wide, concern etched into his forehead as he pats you down determinedly, “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah, um, they just said my shoes were nice,” snorting, “I was about to tell them where I bought them from.”

*cue Inosuke swiveling around faster than you can blink*

*jabbing a finger in the general direction of the poor soul who DARED to compliment you*

“NO STEALING MY SWEETHEART’S SHOES!”

For fuck’s sake 🫠😂

Mind you, this man will hiss at a baby if said baby doesn’t smile at you 🥴

As for when there’s actually an issue?

He, surprisingly, prioritizes you (vs beating up the issue)

Maybe it’s the subtle fear or discomfort in your eyes

Or how your nails dig a little sharper into his bicep than usual

But he’ll immediately lead you somewhere else, #riperoni to whoever happens to be in the way, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin as he holds your hand 🥺

“Are you okay?” bristling anger simmering beneath his quiet devotion to you, “Do I need to call anyone? Should we go home? Find something to eat?”

Chest aching as you pull him into a tight hug, strong arms wrapping secure and steady around your waist, his lips pressed warm against your head

“I’ve got you,” murmured into your hair, “Just don’t let go of me, ‘kay? Otherwise I might start a fight.” 🤫

Tanjirou rarely drinks

Mostly bc he already feels warm and fuzzy beside you, let alone adding alcohol to the mix

But when he does?

Prepare to have one (1) Kamado Tanjirou glued to your front, your back, your side, for the remainder of the evening 🤗

Usually, holding hands, kissing your cheek, giving you a piggyback ride, is the extent of his PDA

Drunk Tanjirou, however, is significantly more comfortable invading your personal space bubble 😌

🫧 *pop* 🫧

Ofc, he absolutely respects any boundaries you set, but gosh he’s like a kitten who just wants to curl up on your shoulder and purr 🐾

But obvi he can’t exactly curl up on your shoulder, sooo he settles for everything else (purring included)

If you’re staying in, then expect his head in your lap, or you pulled onto his lap

And if you’re watching something, then expect him to ask you questions every other minute bc he’d rather nuzzle his face in your thighs/neck than actually focus on the screen

Getting up for a snack? 🍿

You bet he’s getting up too, kisses peppered across your shoulder blades as you open the fridge, warm palms grabbing your hips to spin you around and touch his nose to yours as soon as you find whatever you were looking for

Kamado Tanjirou will follow you into the bathroom if you let him, preparing perfectly portioned and folded toilet paper for your convenience 🧻

If you’re out and about, then expect him to prefer somewhere less crowded, a park or something nature-esque, weather permitting

He knows packed clubs and bustling bars aren’t the best for showering you in affection

But moonlit strolls along secluded streets are wonderful for spontaneous twirling, dips, and other overly elaborate dance maneuvers ✨🌙

Sometimes he’ll hum a vague tune

Most of the time, a tender, swaying melody guides your footsteps, caress of darkness audible to only you and him

“You’re beautiful,” he declares, the world in his eyes as he gazes at you, “Thank you for being my partner.”

—regarding the OG prompt… drunk Tanjirou def has a dangerous coolness if/when someone bothers you

—an almost surreal smoothness to his voice, silvery politeness hardly masking his underlying intent as he warns your offender

—“You should leave.”

Is typically stoic

Yada yada

It takes a lot to pry a compliment out of Giyuu

“Giyuu, how do I look?” twirling in your loosely wrapped towel, droplets glistening on your dewy skin

“Like you need help drying off.”

Really? 🙄

C’mon Dude™ 🙃

Dw, he was seconds away from being ~disrespectful 😏🫢

Sadly, respect won 😔

Or: “Giyuu, what’s your favorite thing about me?”

*insert Giyuu raising an eyebrow*

*insert Giyuu grimacing*

*insert Giyuu running away*

Again, he was seconds away from plopping his raw heart into your cupped hands 🥺🫀

Sadly, emotional constipation won ☹️

—How this man’s even in a relationship, Idk 😃

—Bc he’s cute ☺️

—That’s how

—And endearing (somewhat) 🤔

The secret, however, to getting his elusive affection and adoration (and praise), is actually quite simple

Pour Giyuu a drink, maybe two, and all his reservations dissipate 🍶

“Babe, you look gorrrgeous,” hands flailing happily, “Absolutely stunning!” gesturing vaguely, “Your HAIR!”

“What about my hair?” amusement in your smile as he gasps excitedly

“It’s just so PRETTY!” falling forward into you *oof*, inhaling deeply *ahh*, eyes closing contentedly, “Smells so NICE.”

Pouting as you gently push him upward, “Am I too heavy?” making grabby hands (fricking Giyuu + grabby hands 😭🥰), “Love, I love you!”

—Be still my heart 🫠💓

Ask him, “Giyuu, what’s your favorite thing about me?”

And he’ll get this serious look in his eyes, body suddenly so still you wonder if he’s miraculously sobered up, voice contemplative and lower than usual

“My favorite thing about you is how you love yourself. That shit’s hard. I know I’m no good at it, at loving myself, so getting to watch you cherish yourself is… it’s a gift,” uncharacteristic tears welling, blubbering, “I just! I just love you, sooo much!” wailing now, “SOooooo muCH!”

Side note: he gradually becomes better about being vulnerable while sober too, but there’s something naive and lighthearted about the occasional indulgence of Drunk Giyuu™

—regarding the OG prompt… drunk Giyuu isn’t particularly ~helpful if/when someone bothers you, mostly bc he’s flabbergasted that anyone could bear to offend you 😖

—he’s more than capable of defending you physically/removing you from an unsafe situation, but in terms of ~emotional damage?

—you might need to reassure him 💀, bc he’s 11/10 devastated that, apparently, not everyone perceives you as the Divine Being™ that you obviously are 😠😍

[namorslutfanfiction]

Can you write something with Namor being kind of known as a player or womanizer and you're his next target? Smut please.

OH OH FBOY NAMOR

Summary: He'd had his fun with everyone he wanted. Now he wanted you, the one playing hard to get.

A little bit of cat and mouse fluff and then FILTHY SMUT

It was no secret that K'uk'ulkan had his vices like anyone else. But no one spoke of how, over the years, he had found every pretty woman his people had to offer and bedded them once or twice. He never promised affection or anything more than a night or a few where he would share their beds. No one refused either. He was their king but also an undeniably beautiful man. There were rules. He had no taste for anyone too young, married, or otherwise spoken for. The woman were sworn to secrecy, although rumors always went around. Centuries on, the carnal needs of the King were practically a folk tale.

Namor was pacing his chambers feeling particularly needy. He had gotten out of the habit of taking lovers but would succumb to temptation when his hand and imagination would not satiate him. Tonight was one of those nights, after more than a decade. He never returned to the same lovers after the end of their initial trysts. There was a woman he had seen recently on his tours through the city that had intrigued him. A smirk danced across his face as he left the palace in search of his new lover.

~~~

It wasn't hard for him to find you in the busy marketplace of Talokan. The day was winding down and you were starting to pack up your stall. You were an independent person, determined to live your own life regardless of whether you had a man or not. You lived on your own, and your family spoke highly of you. He had heard the rumors that you were hard to please, turning down suitors left and right. You were beautiful, self sufficient, and picky. Namor found that admirable.

He was sitting in your room above your market stall when you went inside. You stumbled at the sight of the King in your room and hurried to bow and show your respect. The King approached you, grasped your chin and raised you to look at him. His skin touching yours felt like a jolt of electricity.

"Hello pretty one," Namor said as he looked into your eyes. Seeing you up close he could see the fire in your spirit. You were beautiful and fierce and he wanted you. He felt as if electricity was flowing through him, a connection that increased his need.

"K'uk'ulkan, how can I serve you?" You asked. Your nerves were shot. You had never once met the king and to have him now, here in the little room you called home, so close. This truly was like being in the presence of a god. His skin seemed to emit its own light and warmth. There was a power that radiated off of him that made you anxious because it was oddly soothing.

His hand held your face up to his while his other glided up your arm seductively. That same hand gently brushed a lock of hair off your face. Your heart was hammering inside your chest. Namor leaned in close to you, your lips nearly touching when he whispered, "Will you welcome me to your bed, pretty one?"

Your eyes widened at the implication. You had heard the rumors and stories. The insatiable needs of the King. Although no woman in years had claimed to have been taken by him. But the truth was here as he pressed his body against yours, and leaned his lips closer. His need was like a wave of electricity leaving him and entering you. Instinctively your hands found his chest and you pushed him away with all your might, breaking the connection. The King stumbled back, surprised at your refusal but he schooled his features.

"I-I am sorry, my king, I cannot. I will not," You stuttered out, worried about what your refusal would imply for your future.

He gazed at you curiously then turned to leave. He stopped at the door way then turned back to you, "I am sorry. Do not speak of this to anyone. I will respect your choice."

Then the King was gone. Your legs gave out beneath you as you caught your breath. What had just happened? You had refused the King, K'uk'ulkan himself. You had refused a god. What misfortune would fall upon you now?

~~~

"Why didn't you just say yes?" Your dearest friend, Inaya, asked you.

"Would you have said yes if he just appeared in your home ready to ravish you?" You replied. You were in that very room with Inaya discussing what had happened the night before. You were overcome with worry that the King may retaliate or the gods may punish you for your transgression. Inaya wasn't being of any help.

"Yes, yes I would have. Not just because he is our king but because I would count myself lucky to be bedded by him. You have heard the old stories. Mindless pleasure, overwhelming affection, and most of all no shame and no commitment. It's a win-win situation. You get to explore your carnal pleasures with an incredible man and then you get to return to the real world," Inaya reasoned, "I'm rather jealous. They say it's been 50 years since he's taken a lover. I bet he's quite wound up."

"Inaya, you are incorrigible," You chastised your friend.

"You have been courted by every eligible man in Talokan and you have refused every single one. If I didn't know better I would think that you were weeding out everyone except the King himself," She scoffed, "Well you've lost your chance now. They say he never returns to the same woman once the affair has ended, and you ended it before it started."

"Even if I did want the King, you said it yourself, there would be no commitment. He beds who he wishes and he leaves. I don't want that. I am looking for my forever, my soulmate. I just haven't found him yet," you looked down at your hands, wondering if you were being too picky.

Inaya took your hand and gave it a squeeze, "You never know, maybe the King is looking for his soulmate too he just has different methods."

"Ugh men," you wrinkled your nose.

"But what a man he is," Inaya sighed looking off into the distance with an enamored look on her face.

"Oh shut up," you threw a pillow at your friend and you both descended into laughter.

~~~

Namor sat on his throne, frustrated. Not just because of his growing need for release but because he could not find interest in anyone else but you. The only woman to ever deny him. The shot he took to his ego was tremendous. You had responded, at first, positively. You had let him get close, you had let him touch you. Where did he go wrong?

The night hours were beginning and he decided to visit you again. He had his rules yes, but those were made to be broken. Within the hour he was in your room again, waiting for you.

Namor felt oddly nervous and couldn't shake the feeling that if you were to reject him again he may never recover. When you appeared in your doorway he stood and bowed to you at the same time you bowed to him. He could tell you were nervous so he made no move to approach you.

"M-my king, you have returned," The way you stuttered made him feel awful for how forward he had been with you. In the past he had spent more time charming the women he would bed, not quite courting, but making sure they would be willing. He had waited too long and allowed his need for a woman drive him to near abuse. He was disgusted with himself.

"I came to truly apologize for yesterday. I should not have come here and taken those liberties with you. If it is a mutual arrangement it should have been discussed not just thrust upon you," Namor's voice was low and tinged with shame.

"But you are here again?" You could tell he was sincere. His demeanor tonight was very different than the last time.

"I, yes. I wanted to apologize but if I waited at your door I would draw attention. I did not want people to talk ill of you," Namor replied. He stood, "I will leave you now."

"No, wait. My king, share some fruit with me. That is all I ask," You replied, not sure why you invited him to stay but you also wanted to spend more time with him.

Namor was taken aback but nodded and joined you at the small table as you cut the fruit and prepared it for the both of you. The silence was not awkward but also not comfortable. You were both glancing at each other, sizing each other up, worried about the next move. Once the fruit was prepared you offered it to the King first. Knowing the custom that he be served first he did not insist that you precede him.

The silence continued as you both chewed thoughtfully and avoided eye contact. You were the first to speak, finally letting curiosity get the better of you, "Why me? You could have chosen anyone, so why me?"

Namor looked at you thoughtfully, "You are beautiful. That was the first thing I noticed. But I also heard of your independence, stubbornness, and of course your popularity. I saw how you worked the market and treated the elders as gently as you treat the children. You are well mannered but not to the point of being a pushover. I found you to be intriguing. And those who are intriguing to me are also enticing."

You felt yourself flush hearing the words of praise and realizing he had been watching you for some time. Before you could stop yourself you blurted out another question, "Is it true it's been 50 years since you took a lover?"

Namor couldn't help but laugh lightly at the question that you seemed to regret asking, if you covering your mouth with both hands was any indication. He coughed and replied, "It has only been 10 years. I know of the rumors. I was never naïve enough to think none of the women whose beds I'd lain in would not tell someone about it. But some did if the 50 year rumor is still going around. "

The confident smirk on his face had your mind spiraling into a very inappropriate place due to the topic of conversation. As you contemplated if you wanted to hear more about the King's sex life he asked you a question.

"Why did you say no?" Namor was curious as any man would be. Not only was he the King but he knew he was quite handsome after years of being told he was.

You contemplated how to answer, "I am looking for my forever love. I will not give myself to anyone I think will leave me. You are my king, and of course you would never leave Talokan. But you would not stay by my side the way a husband would, no matter how many times I allow you into my bed. You are no doubt handsome and regal and some may say I am too picky for my own good. But I will not compromise just because a king asks me to."

Namor couldn't help but smile at your answer. You were as stubborn and immovable as you had been rumored to be, "None of your many would be suitors have won over your trust enough that you think they will not leave you?"

You opened your mouth and closed it again. It was a fair question. Many of them were good people, had good reputations, came from good families and offered you the world. You took a moment and then answered, "I cannot say that I did not trust them, I just could not bring myself to love any of them. I don't know why. There was an electricity, a wanting that I was searching for that I could not find with any of them."

"None of them brought that out in you?" Namor asked as his mind revisited your last encounter.

"No one has," You replied, the two of you had finished the fruit and were now focused completely on each other. You looked at the King in the eye, bearing your soul to him as if compelled to. He reached out a hand and cupped your cheek. You unconsciously leaned into it slightly feeling a sting like a current of electricity passing through you, "No, some one has."

Namor heard your words and knew you had felt the same electricity he had felt when you had first touched. The same electricity you spoke of and searched for. Namor pulled his hand away and stood suddenly.

"It is late. Thank you for the fruit and for your graciousness. I apologize again for taking liberties with you," Namor avoided your eyes and left your home swiftly.

~~~

"So he came back, you guys had a snack, and then you talked about why you keep rejecting people, including him?" Inaya said summarizing the story you had just told about the night before.

"Yes, that's what happened," You nodded, still contemplating the series of events.

"Then he just left all of a sudden?" Inaya was looking at you incredulously.

"Yes, he just left and I went to bed," You replied, not sure what else to say on the matter.

"He still wants you," Inaya said with finality.

"What makes you say that?" You were growing tired of talking about the king.

"You're forbidden fruit now. You know how men are. They always want what they can't have," Inaya reasoned, "When he comes back bed him for me. Not for yourself but for me because I will never be as lucky as you are right now."

You threw a pillow at your friend again, ignoring her pleas to live vicariously through you.

~~~

Namor was incredibly frustrated both physically and mentally. He wanted you but it was more than that now. He wanted to know you, everything about you. But could he do it, could he really court you, fully commit knowing that he would likely outlive you. That was why he never stayed with any lover for too long. But now, he thought maybe you were worth it. Namor could not deny the connection he felt to you. The electricity you spoke about was there and he knew you felt it too. But denial was so much easier.

The King paced in front of his throne trying to decide what he was willing to put himself through. He had no doubt he would and could dote upon any woman he chose to be by his side. Love them and adore them with every thing he was but was he prepared to lose them in the end. Was he prepared to lose you at the end of it all? He was contemplating eternity without the love of his life after talking to you twice. You could be that to him, he reasoned with himself.

He wanted you to be that to him.

The decision was made. The King had spent too long trifling and embracing a loneliness he hated. If having time with you meant eventually losing you to time itself, he wanted to have you. He did not want to have any regrets and live in 'what ifs'.

A connection like this was rare, your failed suitors were a testament to that.

But now he was your suitor and he would not fail.

~~~

When the King did not surprise you with his presence for four nights, you had finally settled back into life. Inaya was disappointed and maybe you were a little too. But it was all better this way.

On the fifth night he returned. You were so tired that when you came up to your room you didn't notice him standing there at first. You had closed your eyes and were stretching in your doorway when he spoke.

"Hello, pretty one," he spoke softly.

You jumped and nearly rolled back out the door but the king stepped forward and took your forearm, gently pulling you into the room. He did not linger but instead let you go and stepped back. You noticed that around him were baskets of flowers and fruits.

"K'uk'ulkan, what is happening?" You stared at him, not sure what to do.

"These are my first gifts and my humble request to begin courting you," Namor replied, gesturing to the baskets.

"You want to court me? Do you think you will be able to bed me after a few gifts?" You were insulted. Did he think you were really that easy?

"What? No. I am being serious. I wish to court you in the hopes of making you my wife and queen. I can bed you when that happens," He smiled at you as if his answer were obvious and you shouldn't have jumped to conclusions.

"You want to marry me?" You were skeptical. You walked up and perused the baskets. Your mouth watered at the sight of your favorite fruit. You shook your head and looked up at the king, refocusing. "Why did you suddenly change your mind?"

"Electricity. You spoke of an electricity and a yearning you were looking for. I felt it when I met you that first night. I know you did too," The King was standing close to you but not touching,

"I'm not sure."

"Do not lie. Please." The way he said those words, and the look he gave you was drenched in vulnerability. This man, this King, known for his noncommittal trysts was asking for you to agree that there was a possibility for more.

"You are right. I felt it." The admission made him breathe a sigh of relief, he kissed your cheek chastely then backed away.

"You are tired and it is late. I will return tomorrow. We will go to your parents and tell them my intentions so we may court properly," Namor was actually smiling slightly as he said it.

"You want to go to my parents? You are that sure?" You were surprised but you guessed his forwardness when it came to physical attentions also translated to more appropriate interactions.

"Yes. I have thought long and hard over the last few day, preciosa. I want to do this the right way. I will court you," He took her hand in his, "I will win your trust that I will never leave you, and I will win your heart."

He stood close to you again and whispered in your ear, "And when we are wed I will ravish you in every room of the palace and fill you with my seed on my throne."

Namor smiled wickedly at you, confidence and affection radiating off him like sun beams. You knew you were blushing and also felt a carnal desire coiling inside of you. "Goodnight, pretty one. Until tomorrow."

Then he was gone, and you were smiling.

~~~

The courtship was as traditional as you could expect, but also incredibly extravagant. K'uk'ulkan had never courted anyone and knowing how many had attempted before him, he made sure to one up every single one of them.

Your parents were surprised, honored, and intimidated. But you were the perfect match for the king. You brought out a softness in him that no one knew existed. And he brought out a playfulness in you that even your parents had not seen in so long.

Your courtship remained innocent apart from chaste kisses on the cheeks and hands. But he was to be found in you room every night, peeling and chopping fruit for you as you exchanged stories.

He regaled you with tales from his long life, from the creation of Talokan to his recent war with Wakanda. You in turn told him stories of living as a commoner in Talokan, the friends you had, the people you called family in the market place. You ate up his stories the same way he ate up yours, bringing both your worlds into light.

Each night Namor would kiss your cheek and leave you. Each night the electricity between you intensified, Each night you wished he would stay but he never did.

The celebrations that followed your betrothal were legendary and filled you with excitement. You had grown to truly love K'uk'ulkan.

When you told him just that he did not hesitate to return the love he received and finally captured your lips in a passionate kiss that you both had trouble tearing yourself away from. Parting that night was harder than any other night before it.

~~~

The wedding was full of regalia and tradition and love and family. It was a great thing that Talokan finally had a queen. Not just any Queen but a beautiful, kind, and loved queen. The festivities continued in the city as the King stole you away to the palace.

You swam together through the halls, stopping only to steal fervent kisses, and open doors. When you entered what would be your shared chambers, the King was upon you.

His kisses were desperate as he undid your dress blindly. His hands danced across your body as he slipped off every article of clothing but left you in your jewelry. You did the same to him, between kisses and caresses. When your bare skin finally touched with no barriers except the slight clink of gold hitting gold you both gasped and moaned. That feeling of electricity intensified and you wanted more.

Namor held your face to his, kissing you passionately as he guided you to lay on the bed. He was groping your body hungrily as you maneuvered on top of you. Breaking the kiss he looked down into your eyes, "My queen, in yakunaj, I cannot wait to have you. I am desperate to feel you around me."

"Take me, in ajawo," You replied equally as desperate.

His lips met yours in a harsh and needy kiss as he spread your legs finding your pussy wet with your juices. Gently he fingered you, making sure you were ready for him. Your moans escaped your lips as he sucked on your neck and gently stretched you with his fingers. You had never felt anything like this, the pleasure, the need, the electricity was overwhelming. He spread your legs apart and guided his cock to your core. When he began easing his tip inside of you, you clenched in anticipation.

"Relax, my queen, let me in," He whispered into your ear before nibbling your earlobe. You gasped and felt him push in further. You already felt so full but when he fully sheathed himself inside you, you saw stars. Currents of pleasure flowed through you as he covered your torso with kisses, while building a rhythm with his hips.

The sensations were overwhelming. Now you understood what Inaya was saying about pleasure beyond measure. You could not think straight. You were melting into him and he was melting into you. His thrust grew more powerful and you could feel your wetness spilling from you. If you could think a full thought you might have been embarrassed, instead you were moaning wantonly as the King plowed into you.

Your first orgasm as you lay beneath the King made you claw at his back and bite his shoulder. His growl was followed by his stuttering hips as he emptied himself inside of you. When he finally slowed to a stop and pulled out, he showered you in tender kisses and whispered words of love and praise.

You felt like you were made of jelly and yet you were already thinking about doing it again but trying a different position. You laughed to yourself at the realization.

"What is it, pretty one? What amuses you?" The King was also smiling as he kissed his way from your jawline to your lips.

"I was thinking about being on top next time," You met his eyes after you said it and saw them dilate in real time.

"Oh my Queen we can try anything you want, we have all the time in the world," He pulled you close and kissed your temple, "The palace guards have been told to stay in the perimeter and the maids have been told to leave us alone for the week. I plan to keep my promise and have you in every room."

"Don't forget the throne," You teased.

He rolled to lay on top of you again and kissed you, slipped his tongue in your mouth, then nibbled your lip making you moan. "I will pump you so full of my love that in less than a month we will have something new to celebrate."

The way he looked at you when he said that made something in you go feral. You grasped his chin and pulled him in for a crushing kiss. As he melted into the embrace you pushed him onto his back. His cock was still recovering but was hard enough that when you lined it up with your pussy and impaled yourself on it, it drove home.

Namor gasped as you took control. He could feel himself hardening inside of you as you experimentally rolled your hips. The strangled moan that escaped him made you smile. You braced your hands on his thick chest and thrust down on him. The feel of his hands finding and grasping your hips drove you on.

You found a rhythm that made you certain all the electricity in the world was focused on where you were joined with the king. You kept that rhythm until you came hard, liquid gushing out of you in a way it hadn't the first time. You collapsed onto his chest, and he held you to him as he continued thrusting into you from below.

The pleasure was making you delirious. You could vaguely hear the King once more whispering his devotions to you peppered with the dirtiest language. Praising the wetness of your pussy and how well you took every inch of him. The way he moaned your name into your hair as he filled you again was godly.

As you both lay, barely conscious, you almost wonder if your pleasure would have even reached such a peak if you had allowed him to take you that first night. When he wrapped his arms around you and groggily whispered how much he loved you, you had your answer.

~~~

WHEW. alright.

[albywritesfiction]

Wow I'm loving the premise of this IF 👏, and I saw in a previous ask that you took some inspiration from Remarried Empress 🥰, which I'm also a huge fan of 😍, so I have quite a few questions 😅😁

1. So does this mean we can also end up having our EX begging, pleading, pining and fighting for us at some point in the story like Sovieshit? Because I'd love to rub my new romance in their face 😈, especially when MC is looking even better at a ball or something when we make an entrance or dance 💃🕺

2. And how capable and popular is MC with the nobility and the public, I understand we won't be as popular as Helene *coughs* trashta *coughs* 🤢🤮 with regards to the public, but I hope we can still be a capable and well liked figure and in not just our own territory📚👸?

3. If we choose to go home does it block us from romance with the 2nd Prince? and vice versa with the best friend 🤔

4. and will the two paths converge at some point, because I wouldn't mind having a choice at any point through a path to travel back and forth between home and the capital 🤭

5. I dont know if its been asked but what about MCs parents or siblings or family, do we have any and how's their relationship with MC ☺

Sorry its quite a few asks 😅 but I'm too invested, good luck with your work and wishing you the best

Hello wayflame!

This was a fun ask! Answers under the cut 😊

Hmm you’ll just have to wait and see! Would be pretty satisfying though for him to come crawling back only to be slapped in the face by your new relationship with his brother… *cue innocent whistling*

This is also kinda within spoiler territory 😅 I can tell you though that just because Helene’s more popular with the people doesn’t mean that they’ve forgotten about MC’s accomplishments. They still acknowledge that MC is a very capable individual and treat MC with respect (and not just because they’re the heir of House Argentius), it’s just that a lot of them are a little too into real-life fairytales 😅

Yes. Ædric is needed at the capital while Cyfrin is needed at the duchy, so you won’t be able to spend enough time with Ædric if you go home or with Cyfrin if you stay.

Unfortunately, no. You’ll be pretty busy wherever you choose to go, so you won’t have time to travel back and forth within the story 😅

MC is an only child and their mother died when they were pretty young, but their father has never been shy in letting them know just how much he loves them. He’s a good balance between “I’ll dote on my child by getting them everything they want! Oh, you want to have the neighboring empire, my dear? Hold on, Daddy’s going to go on a little war conquest 🥰,” and “No. You can’t have anything if you’re not 100% perfect. How else are you going to take that empire you want so badly with your own hands? 100 laps around the duchy, now!”

I’m glad you like the premise! I don’t mind how many questions you had, as long as you don’t mind that it took a while for me to answer them 😅 Thank you for the well wishes!

[cthulhusstepmom]

What Is and What Could Be

Down in the bayou it’s never silent. The air is filled with the shrill calls of a million marsh birds, underscored by the harmonies of cicadas, crickets, and whining mosquitos. With a tempo set by croaking bullfrogs and sluggishly churning water, urged along by hooting owls and supported by the bass tones of bellowing gators. The song of the swamp is a busy tune, not unlike the brassy jazz played by those that live there. And if you know how to listen just right, it can tell you no shortage of things. 

In a warm and humid tavern a group of adventurers sits around a table, glancing furtively this way and that, squirming slightly under the judgemental stare of the more naturalized citizens. Things don’t often change in the bayou, it’s a wild place, untamed. Civilization has tried to reach within before and without fail it’s been pushed back with prejudice, those that do live here are proud of it and somewhat by design they tend to be a rather insular folk. By and large this means they don’t take kindly to most strangers. Particularly strangers that show up asking questions .

And this crew had been asking plenty, beyond the glaring offense of very clearly not being from around this neck of the woods. 

They rolled into town a few days ago, talking like Galticans or similar enough to them, and by the look in their eyes: running from who knows what. They found rooms at one of the nicer inns, kept to themselves and tipped decent enough(it takes more than that to ingratiate yourselves to the folk of Agwé) before they started asking things. Innocuous at first. They wanted to know about the circus going on just out of town, who the mayor was(useless question) and who was really in charge(that one earned them some begrudging respect). Then they dug deeper, asked about other people. Powerful people. People who are none too fond of having their business nosed about. 

However, if there’s one thing the people of Agwé like more than being stalwartly unhelpful to those they dislike, it’s watching someone else be stalwartly unhelpful and commentating on it over Sunday brunch and mimosas. 

“I’ll tell you what, you go on over to that carnival a ways outta town and I reckon you’ll find who you’re looking for.” A greasy tabaxi offers between wiping tables, battered tail flicking back and forth with a hard to determine emotion. “I wouldn’t dawdle if I were you, it won’t be in town much longer.” The Tabaxi returns to his business with a glinting smile and a few gold pieces that were well worth the trouble. If city slickers wanna go poking beehives it’s not his business to stop them, especially if he’s compensated for handing them the stick. 

The carnival itself is in full swing when they arrive, flashing lights and smells both sweet and savory assaulting their senses from the get go. The operation is staffed by a motley crew of goblinoids, bullywugs, humans, kobolds, and anything else one could reasonably imagine; in the corner of her vision, the half elven leader of the group of adventurers even catches sight of what look to be a few pixies working the crowd though the tide of patrons sways and they’re obscured before she can be fully certain. 

Games line the thoroughfare all of which, from the looks of a surreptitious investigation, appear to be thoroughly if subtly rigged. Arching above the sea of people is an impressive ferris wheel, bedazzled with twinkling magical lights as it turns and turns. Near it, a calliope booms a cheery tune over the sounds of hawking carnival workers, screaming children, and laughing patrons. A map near the entrance advertises a hall of mirrors, a freak show, and hourly performances in the red and white striped big top including a magic show, fire dancing, beast taming, and a spectacle led by the carnival owner at noon and midnight. Perusing through the carnival, wandering and wondering just how they’re meant to find anyone here let alone the one man they seek, the party save one(a dragonborn with a hand harp strapped to his side) seems oblivious to an odd quirk of this particular carnival. There doesn’t seem to be any clowns.

Their hotheaded gnome companion is easily egged into a game of strength(taunted all the while by a colorful lizardfolk wearing the symbol of the carnival), black eyes glitter with excitement as their minotaur begs to go to the big top to see the beasts in the next show as the small pseudodragon on his shoulder makes similar pleading motions, a disinterested rabbitfolk quickly snatches her hands away from a passing purse under the stern reprimand of an androgynous human with subtly glowing eyes. They come to the conclusion that they should split, agreeing that they will meet at the big top in an hour for the Spectacular, all concluding that should be their best chance to get an audience with who they seek. 

As they go their separate ways(one pair to the big top, one pair to the freak show, one making her way down the alley of carnival games and the last picking his way towards the concessions) the party is pulled into the atmosphere of merriment and none of them perceive the very distinct feeling of predatory eyes locked on their every move.

The party never gets a chance to reconvene at the big top. 

Instead, throughout the hour each one meets a disparate misfortune. The half elven woman drops to her knees at the edge of the thoroughfare, clutching her head in pain as the hand reaching for a holy symbol falls limp.

Behind her, the human spins about in panic, muttering a few infernal words before a hand is clamped over their mouth and ether slowly calms their struggling limbs. 

At a dart game, the dragonborn reaches to claim his prize and suddenly finds himself somewhere else entirely with only a moment to scream before his mind is enveloped in darkness and he falls to the ground fast asleep. 

In the large circus tent, the harengon thief is escorted away from her thoroughly distracted friend by a mysterious tabaxi claiming to be security, receiving a sharp blow to the temple as they walk towards a ‘holding cell’. 

Within the hall of mirrors, a black and orange hand reaches forth and yanks the furs worn by the gnome; sending her careening through the glass-turned-portal. 

Last to go is the minotaur. Enamored by the performance, he couldn’t pass up a chance to speak with the beastmaster of the carnival: an old goblin with an easy smile and a worn wooden ocarina. The only moment of warning he had was a deep hoot behind him before the world went dark.

Some indeterminate time later the human is wrenched from unconsciousness by a familiar, if perpetually jarring, voice shouting within their mind. In swift order they endeavor to wake the others, attempting to take stock of the situation. Their surroundings are dark, what little light is present struggles to illuminate anything through heavy curtains drawn over wide windows. Beneath them is an opulent rug, the color of which is hard to discern in the low light, and under that are tight wooden floorboards that match the walls of this space. What they can see of the walls anyway; most of the space is taken by lavish hangings and shelves of kick knacks, the one closest to them holds a beat up silver cigarette case, a small wooden figure of a two headed vulture, a clockwork dragonfly, a crocheted doily, a hip flask, and a vial that looks to house a small lily pad floating in water amongst a few other things. The air is thick with the scent of quality tobacco and warm food and the ambience it creates might even be homey and welcoming in the right circumstances. Though now, tied securely to chairs with no idea how they got there, it seems rather daunting. 

Spatially, the room is quite large. Wide enough for six chairs with displeased adventurers to be lined up side by side with a foot or so of walking room on one side. It’s longer than it is wide, maybe twice over though it’s hard to tell; the windows are positioned opposite each other in the very center of each wall, what light that escapes the curtains quickly stifles in almost absolute darkness before it reveals any sign of a far wall, at least to disadvantaged human eyes. What does catch their gaze and take their breath away are a pair of glowing dull magenta dots in the darkness. No, that’s not quite right. Not dots. Eyes . 

From the gasps coming from their left and right, some of the human’s more visually attuned party members have also perceived the eyes, and most likely the creature attached to them, whatever horrific beast it may be. 

Soon after they discover their predicament, the air is filled with the muffled noises of the carnivalé outside and underneath the muted cacophony the occasional grunt over a chorus of heavy breathing(the Thing on the other end of the room doesn’t move a single muscle, doesn’t even seem to breathe), a sliver of light falls upon the interior of the wagon. 

Creaaaaaaak. 

A door on the far side of the wagon opens. 

It takes a moment for the adventurers to get their bearing in the new light, when they do they first notice the creature connected to those dully shining eyes. 

A large bugbear stands against the far wall. He stands tall, the tips of his bat-like ears almost brushing the ceiling, limbs corded with lithe muscle, and a severe bearing that hints at confidence and ferocity. Running over his arms and up under his sleeves are large spots devoid of any of the dense brown fur that covers the rest of him, a closer look reveals thick rings of angry scar tissue, long healed but clearly agonizing once.

As the bugbear moves away from the opening door he reveals these new variables to their unfortunate situation. 

Stepping into the room with twin, thudding, clanks , a large fire genasi drags a pair of thick chains across the floor attached to weathered manacles that cover his forearms. The genasi is broad, with muscles that speak of hard labor and sheer physical power. His face is creased with deep laugh lines though the only smile on his lips at the moment is a malicious smirk as he reaches behind him to hold the door open. 

Lastly, a lizardfolk gentleman strolls through the door. He moves with the assured ease of a man who holds all the cards. Wearing a sharp purple suit, hand gripping the amethyst skull atop an ornate cane, the lizardfolk takes his time setting his top hat on a stand in the corner, breezing under the watchful eyes of the bugbear without a care for the sharp claws hovering near his snout. When he finally seats himself in a commanding armchair set front and center of the room, he casually fishes in his suit coat before withdrawing a sleek black cigarette holder and a cigarette from a mother of pearl case. It’s hardly in his hand for more than a second before the genasi at his shoulder provides a light at the tip of his finger before leaning with crossed arms on the back of the chair. As his back makes contact with the leather, a spidery hand covered in fur proffers a crystal tumbler of dark alcohol. 

After a long, weighted silence and a luxurious draw from the cigarette, he speaks. 

“What a do friends …”

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Harvest festival thing but with...

Sebek, Jack, Duce, Epel,and Ace??

Harvest Festival | Yandere Twisted Wonderland x Crewel Reader

Sebek Zigvolt

“WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM, (Y/N)?”

He would deny it up and down if he was asked

But he’s been fuming throughout the entire event

To see you wear an old tribal wedding toga enrages him 

Just at the visual implication it represents

So he’s oddly jumping at the opportunity to come to your aide

“It's nothing Sebek I’m simply regaining some energy.”

“If you need anything! I’m am here first and foremost!”

“Thank you, Sebek.”

He leaves you be 

Instead opting to ward off anyone disrupting you 

“BACK AWAY! IF SHE TRULY WAS THE GODDESS YOU PRAISE HER AS THAN YOU’D RESPECT HER REST!” 

Jack Howl

“Are you..alright (Y/n)?”

He pays a lot of attention to you 

Likeanygoodmatedoes

He’s noticed the way your painted eyelids droop

Or how you slyly let out an exhausted sigh

“Thank you for checking, Jack. But I’m just worn.” 

“That’s reasonable, you’ve been entertaining everyone all day. It doesn’t seem like you’ll be needed for a little while. I can…lend a shoulder if you like.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

Jack’s tail is going insane 

He’s happy this bench has an opening for it

He’s practically growling if anyone comes within 6 feet

“Grrr, can’t you see we’re busy!” 

Deuce Spade

“Having fun?”

He’s just trying to see if you’re tired because of everyone or tired because your bored

Because if that’s the case he’ll happily bring an end to it 

He’s a little angry when he watches you tiredly roll your neck

“I think so…just a little exhausted. That’s all.”

“W-would you like me to g-give you a massage?”

“If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“IT WOULD BE..*ahem* my pleasure.”

He’s trying to keep himself calm 

As he rubs your shoulders

He makes an effort to leave some space between your back and his front

Just because he can’t stop looking at the exposed plush of your neck

He’dlovetokissit

“Y-you can relax with me here  (Y/n).”

Epel Felmier

“If you want you can lean on me.”

He recognizes that painted tiredness anywhere

And he loves to be your knight in shining armor 

So he offers right away 

Happily offering himself while you’ve slipped away to rest

“I appreciate that Epel, but I’d rather not set myself to fall asleep while there's still the whole night.”

“Are you doubting me? I’ll wake you up before then.”

“Well if you insist.”

He’ll do his part 

Blushing all the while you catch some z’s 

And in the end, he really does contemplate letting you return to the festival

It’d be so easy to tell everyone you’ve fallen ill and need your rest 

But he knows that the princess academy will swoop you out of his grasp

So the best he can do is to keep you company occupyallyourattention for the rest of the night

“Oh, sorry (Y/n)’s dancing with me for the next-every round…maybe someone else will want to dance with you!”

Ace Trappola

“You hungry?”

He’s been watching you throughout the whole day

Who is he kidding, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you

Refusing to uncross his arms

As you were paraded around with Idia and the descendant of Demeter

He waits until you’re sighing alone

Making sure you stay that way by waiting creating the perfect opportunity

Swooping in with a plate already gotten from the now-put-away feast

Of course with all your favorites 

“Thank you, Ace. I, unfortunately, had to keep my plate small in light of the activity.”

“I saw. Babe, I don’t know how you get this kind of attention all the time.YeahIdobutIhatehit”

“You don’t? If you don’t already know you must not spend enough time around me.”

“Oh please, maybe I should spend more time with you, then.”

“Maybe you should.”

He knows your teasing him 

But he’s using it as his excuse to hang out with you pushothersoutoftheway

“Ehem got room for one more, oh goddess?”

[tate06]

A BIT MORE THAN FRIENDS..? PART ONE

Phillip graves X Reader

Summary- Graves finally realizes you’re more than just a friend.

The moment you open the bar door, the muffled noise heard from outside becomes clear, yet so much conversation and cheers were being rung throughout the bar, you were immediately greeted with a loud cheer of your own by the infamous Shadow company. They shouted your name greeting you, everyone else in the bar welcomed in the same manner, strangers caught up in the drinks and drunk excitement, everyone going with the flow of enjoyment. This wasn’t unusual to see the local bar to be full of warm people.

Before you even finish making it to the shadows’ booth their commander Phillip Graves is already walking towards you, in a swift pull he hugs you, slinging his arm around your shoulder, onto your neck. “We’re finally back, another successful operation” He shouts, the men burst into another grand cheer, “That’s fucking right-“ One shadow called out.

“Took us a bit longer but who cares!” All the men laughed.

The shadows ran this town, everyone always stopping to thank them for their service, they were always the pride of this town. It was no surprise to see many of these shadows paired with a woman for the night; some even had a group of women and men around them asking them about their operations.

“Good to see you, sweetheart” Graves’ winks at you, his arm still around you. He passed you a drink, it was exactly what you liked.

“Eh can’t say the same- but I will definitely be taking this” You accepted the drink you sit down. And begin a conversation with the shadows at the table, you weren’t Graves’ girlfriend but it was clear it was more than friends. So they treated you as if you were his wife, with respect, and cared for you deeply. You had been around them so much for years now, constantly.

After a while you offer to buy a round of shots for them, going up and ordering a shit ton of them, a woman immediately finds your seat and decides to sit down, she wastes no time to press up against Graves’ arm. It was a rumor that Graves, though yes he had a sassy somewhat flirty personality. that it meant he was a manwhore, he gave it up as easily as it came. All they had to do was ask.

You see his cheap attempts to get her off him, he’s too much of a ‘gentleman’ to throw her off, or even try rejecting her straight up. He clearly enjoyed the attention. You deceit to pay no mind to it whatsoever. Not like it was even your problem to care about, you guys weren’t dating, you guys had nothing to where it’d be appropriate for you to act up.

Finally the bartender finishes pouring all the shots, you struggle to carry them back to the table but you manage. Setting them down in the middle of the table, they all thank you and before you can take your own shot the woman takes it as if it was for her. No one notices this, too involved with their own conversation to care. This causes you to scoff, you say nothing but rather just linger around the bar keeping your distance from their table.

Lucky enough you weren’t left behind doing nothing, this bar was known for the sultry songs they’d put on between the night, it was especially popular during the nights the Shadow company celebrated. It was as if it was made for women to somehow make a scene, and it always worked. Men would get on the tables with the women as well and join in the dancing. Everything was up to do, even stripping.. teasingly. Meaning bras stayed on but shirts didn’t have to.

You waited for a particular song to play, anything you were able to dance to. Thankfully your prayers were answered, once hearing the perfect song you instantly got into a table, a few other women followed, having their own tables. Men broke into obnoxious whistles, pointing and shouting at the women in awe, taking in the view of the women dancing. Many women were dancing to a specific man, you honestly weren’t. Wasn’t like Graves’ would pay mind to you when he was busy with that other girl.

You saw a man in the corner of your eye, he was sitting at the table you were on.. he motioned with his eyes, as if asking if he could join you. You shrug, extending your hand out for him to grab and pull himself on up. Immediately you two synced up, he placed behind you, pushing your back onto his chest, his hands placed at your lower waist near your hips. Maneuvering his hands to grip the hemp of your blouse, using his hands to take it off. Everyone howled, at this, you saw many shadows signaling their commander to look up and see you.

He finally listened at their attempt, his smirk wiped off his lips, followed by clear annoyance. You look away from him, and pay your attention to the man you were dancing with. Yet suddenly in a swift movement you were pulled away from the man, now off the table. Finding yourself on Graves’ shoulder, his hands wrapped around your waist. Effortlessly carrying you as if you weighed absolutely nothing.

“Ain’t this classy.” His voice was dripped in sarcasm, he was clearly pissed.

“At least I didn’t allow some random bitch to throw themselves at me” You sung back, referring to earlier.

“Shut up that's not how it went” He carried you all the way out the bar, you two reached his truck. Setting you down in the passenger seat, looked down at you. You grabbed your blouse from his hand.

“Go on and cover up.”

“At least I didn’t take my bra off.”

“Yeah. At least. What a plus.” Again his stupid sarcasm peeked out.

He slams the truck door shut once you're fully in, getting into the driver seat beginning to drive in an instant.

“Where are we going-“ Asking as you shift, fixing yourself up in the seat.

“I’m dropping you home.”

***

[blade-that-was-broken]

World To Change Deleted Scene

She kissed him. 

Branch didn’t expect anything from anything from what. 

What. 

She kissed him. 

As she pulled back, her face shining like the sun, he stared. He must have had the dumbest, dopiest smile on his face ever because she just laughed a little. He tried to copy her but it came out an awkward, strangled giggle. 

“Oh my gosh those two,” he distantly heard Barb whisper. 

“How long have they been dancing around each other?” 

“Too long,” Satin and Chenille sighed. 

He didn’t hear anything else. He was too busy staring at Poppy, trying not to melt into a puddle. She was grinning at him with stars in her eyes like he had hung the moon. Her crown was dirty and scraped up but the glitter on her cheeks were practically blinding in the best way possible. He wanted to draw constellations from them. 

“You kissed me,” he said, dumbly. 

“Is that okay?” 

He tried not to giggle. This was making him feel entirely other things in his chest. His heart was thumping louder, his ears were almost ringing and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Yeah,” he managed to squeak out.

It seemed impossible but her grin widened. 

“I’m really glad you said something. I know it was technically a fight back in Funk territory but… but it was something that needed to be said,” Poppy told him. 

“You were waiting for me,” he realized. 

She nodded. 

“For how long?”

“I don’t know. Not long, I don’t think? Does it matter?” she asked, genuinely. 

“I guess not.” 

“I want to hold your hand forever.” 

“Can you read my mind?” 

“Maybe one day,” she laughed. 

“I am going to die, they are way too cute,” someone muttered. 

“We have an audience,” Branch pointed out, not sparing anyone a glance. 

“We do,” she agreed. “But I think… I think things are going to be okay. Do you want to talk with me with the other tribes? I think you are a good mediator.” 

“I think I kind of made friends with a couple of gang groups,” Branch shrugged. 

“The Tresillo guy right?” 

He nodded. “He can really dance.” 

“I’d love to meet him.” 

So there they were, hand in hand, turned back towards the group of trolls, most of them the respective leaders of their tribes. They were all grinning at them and Branch couldn’t help but blush. 

“I think… we have a lot to talk about.”

[buckets-and-trees]

He Bought a Studio

Fandom: MCU Title: He Bought a Studio Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Natasha Word Count: 4.3k Summary: In an alternate universe where Steve stayed, Natasha lived, and everyone settled down in the Big Apple, this chronicles a Winter Soldier's decent into opening up a dance studio for the Black Widow he's become totally besotted with in super soldier retirement, and many things that come with it. Almost titled, "Five Times Natasha Romanoff Was Right To Be Suspicious Of Bucky Barnes."

Content Warnings: brief smut (oral female receiving), fluff, feelings, a goddaughter, soft former assassins

Additional Notes: Filling my eighth square for Bucky Barnes Bingo @buckybarnesbingo - B4 "Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow" and clocking in week 7 of Hot Bucky Summer to fill the prompt "Who's This?"/my pet, my lover, my slave.

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ONE

With reputations that rivaled each other as the world’s most efficient assassin and effective spy respectively, Bucky and Natasha were too suited to each other to ever forge a life with anyone else. They could compete in skill and intellect, they challenged each other, but more than anything else they understood each other – bleeding ledgers something they didn’t have to explain, good and bad days reconciling the past something they didn’t have to clarify. No judgement.

It's also difficult for either of them to surprise the other.

But she can admit she was not expecting anything even close to this.

She blinks furiously, using the pretense of rotating on the spot to take in the space – its smooth hardwood floors and pristine mirrored walls haunting in the mostly-darkened room, one of three or four in the facility if she had assessed correctly – to turn away from his intense gaze directly on her face for a moment.

“You bought a ballet studio,” she says, the words still thicker through her throat than she had hoped they would be.

The feelings competing in her chest are at once heartbreaking and hopeful.

He just hums in confirmation.

“You bought a ballet studio,” she repeats, this time a whisper, but she knows he hears. He hears everything, including the racing of her heart.

Bucky reaches for her hand and tugs her back to him. “Don’t you want to know why?”

“Because you have too goddamn much money from the government settlements?”

“That and my sister loved to dance. You loved to dance. You could dance again.”

“You gonna dance with me, Barnes?” she teases.

He shakes his head and laughs, opening his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off.

“No excuses – between when you grew up and the dance training all Russian assets got, I know you can dance.”

“Agree to run the dance side of the Barnes Ballet Academy and I’ll dance with you whenever you want,” he says, pulling her into his chest and arranging them into an appropriate dance position, one hand holding hers, the other moving to the small of her back.

She yields for a moment, resting her head against his shoulder, and he begins to sway them back and forth slowly to some imaginary music.

“Why did you really buy a ballet studio, Buck?”

He sighs, then kisses the top of her head. “We can’t have everything together, but I can give you this. It’s not…”

He can’t or won’t finish the sentence, but she swallows painfully and then finishes it for him. “It’s not kids.”

“But these rooms can be filled with them every afternoon. Since I bought the studio, I will take care of all the business, and you can just worry about dancing and coaching. Besides, what else is a retired super soldier supposed to do?”

TWO

When she closes the door of the Brooklyn apartment behind her, it’s the wrong kind of quiet.

She fully expected to hear Bucky in the kitchen getting dinner ready or maybe on the phone with the contractor, a choreographer, another instructor, or the parent of a potential student.

“Barnes?”

No answer.

Something is not right. The lights are on like he’s home, but there isn’t a single sound, and all her instincts from her former life kick in, eyes scanning the living room, weight shifting forward on her feet, adopting a predatory stance. Moving down the hallway, she slips her hand behind one of the pictures on the wall, retrieving a gun stashed there only she and Bucky know about, and continues moving slowly and silently on.

Then she hears a scoff from the study.

Natasha’s brows knit together. A scoff?

As she rounds the corner into the study, an immediate assessment of the room is enough to tell her she has no need for defense and lowers her gun. Her boyfriend is on the couch, back to her, engrossed in watching something on his phone with noise-cancelling headphones in. She glides back into the hallway to replace the weapon so it’s at the ready in case of a real threat in the future, and heads back to investigate. She places a hand on his shoulder, and he turns abruptly, smiling when he sees her and pulls out an earbud.

“What’s a girl got to do earn her supper around here?”

He glances at his watch. “Oh, sorry, Nat! I lost track of time with this,” he says, gesturing to the iPad on his lap.

“What are you even watching?”

He smirks, but she can detect a trace of embarrassed color his cheeks. “Save the Last Dance. Here,” he takes her hand off his shoulder and tugs her around the couch and pulls her onto the cushion beside him. He then grabs the remote, turns on the flatscreen television, and throws the movie up from his tablet so they can both watch. “I was only ten minutes in, so we can start over from the beginning.”

Natasha snorts. “You’re really watching this?”

“Of course, I’m watching it! I own a ballet studio! It’s important for me to have a full understanding of the cultural benchmarks and stereotypes that are part of the dance world.”

“What, are you going to watch every dance-centric film and television show out there?”

“Maybe I will,” he responds, a defiant cock of his chin.

Now she just grins and cuddles up into him. “Fine, but I’m ordering in Thai,” she says and taps away quickly at her phone to secure their dinner. When she sets her phone down, she notices there’s also a stack of DVDs on the shelf under the TV, and she can see four of them are from the Step Up franchise, a copy of Center Stage, and Dirty Dancing and Dirty Dancing: Havannah Nights.

For the next few days, Bucky seems to be watching one of the many films he’s continuing to accumulate or an episode of So You Think You Can Dance or Dance Moms either actively or in the background whenever it’s convenient. He’s always a bit incredulous though in his idle commentary and many unconscious scoffs when the latter is playing.

“You know you don’t have to finish that,” she says.

“I always finish what I start, Romanoff.”

“But you do know there are eight seasons, right? It’s important to me that you know there are eight seasons.”

“And I will happily watch them all.”

“Happily?” she jeers.

“I said what I said.”

“Nerd.” She rolls her eyes, but affectionately, and heads out for her meeting with a potential guest choreographer for the girls. There are so many parts of this life she never would have predicted for herself, and a boyfriend obstinately binge-watching reality tv about the dance world wouldn’t even have made the bottom of the list of possibilities.

THREE

For all the dance tv and movie consumption she’d had by proximity when Bucky had started down this ballet studio ownership journey, nothing had prepared Nat for the reality of it.

The way these girls showed up was endearing.

Some of them were a little trying, but they also all tried to do their best. Ballet was demanding and it could be competitive, but Nat worked diligently to establish a teaching staff and culture that focused on grit and community as much as it did on technique.

It was harder with the parents. Some of them still jockeyed for standing both for themselves and their offspring.

She certainly appreciated some of the parents and guardians more than others, but she didn’t want to discount any of them since, for better or worse, they all played integral parts in the lives of her girls, and those experiences affected how they could show up any given day on that dance floor.

Steve’s one of the parents who plays a part in the community, his five-year-old Sarah – Nat and Bucky’s goddaughter – just old enough to start in the youngest class of ballerinas. Steve’s somewhat adopted one of the giant hulking men – Kyle, who’s a single father to one of the other girls in Sarah’s class – always making sure the working-class man feels comfortable and like this can be “the village” that helps.

Nat’s speaking with both men when she feels the intensity of a gaze she’s grown intimately familiar with.

Bucky’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and he’s in conversation with his assistant and two of the community dance class instructors (ballet runs every afternoon, but to make use of the facility and to generate enough money to make it financially sustainable, he’s implementing evening classes across disciplines for adults from simple barre and Zumba to ballroom).He’s talking to them, but he’s mostly looking at her, and when they lock eyes, he glances down to his own hand, then flicks his eyes back up to her before returning his focus to the three people in his immediate vicinity. She takes the hint, and watches as his right hand taps out a message in morse code on his vibranium bicep:

Need you in the office.

Natasha doesn’t frown in front of Steve or Kyle but gives a believable excuse to extract herself and makes her way to the office, navigating with purpose but without drawing attention to their office. He knew the schedule of this place like clockwork, and so to pull her away this close to a class almost never happened.

Within forty-five seconds, she hears his steps approaching and then the turn of the doorknob ahead of his entrance.

She arches one eyebrow, but, Oh…

She knows exactly what that look means.

She can’t help the low laugh that erupts from her chest, but it’s cut off immediately as he crosses the room and claims her mouth in a kiss, lips searing heat, desperate, consuming. His hands were already slipping into the top of her leggings, and his fingers hitched into the band of her underwear, pulling them down in one smooth motion as he forced her back to his desk. He’s never miscalculated anything in his life, so she doesn’t hit the desk clumsily – he lifts her deftly to deposit her on the smooth wooden surface the split second before her hips would’ve knocked into it.

No one else had ever engulfed her with this kind of passion, and she would never get enough of this, of him.

And yet as he trails his lips down the column of her throat, she has to protest, “Buck, I have to be back out there in five minutes.”

“I know. Still need you.”

When he laves his tongue at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, her head rolls back, and she moans, but then she pushes against his chest. “You can wait, you’ll survive.” Though she isn’t quite sure she could now that he had her blood running hot for more.

“Fine, I don’t need you,” he concedes, but then he looks directly into her eyes and his voice drops, “I want you now, and you know I always finish what I start, Romanoff.”

His hands move up her bare legs, thumbs caressing the crease at the top of her thighs, too close to her cunt not to make her heart race, and he smirks.

“Barnes…”

He sinks to his knees, ducks under the fabric of the only partially removed bottoms, and slots himself between her legs, pulling her hips to the edge of the desk before he spits on her slit.

“I can apply my efficiency,” he asserts and presses a kiss onto the tender flesh of her inner thigh resting over his shoulder.

“Cocky bast–”

His mouth directly on her clit cuts her off abruptly. Her folds were slick for him with the intensity of the previous moments, but he mixes her arousal and his spit with his thumb and then slips two fingers inside her channel, seeking the spot he knows so well, the one he knows will quickly bring her to her peak. He makes only a few slow strokes while licking her bud before speeding up, determined to make good on his promise.

Natasha hands go to his head, fingers both carding through and gripping his hair. He hums against her pussy, and her breaths come in short gasps as he continues hurtling her toward ecstasy on the tips of his fingers and tongue. He earnestly strokes her g-spot and then turns his licks to fervent sucking of her bud, and that does it, white heat breaking over her, all her muscles seizing up and then relaxing as he pushes her through it.

She shakes her head, laughing again when he looks up at her, the expression on his face one that would be too smug if he hadn’t earned it. He truly knows her expertly, intimately, in every way.

He extracts himself from between her thighs and helps her redress while she catches her breath. “I wanted you now,” he says, “but for the rest of the afternoon you’ll be thinking about how much I’ll need you later.”

Nat glares at him teasingly. “I have to go out there and–“

“Or you don’t. You have an assistant coach.”

“Unlike some of us, I’m nothing if not a goddamn professional.”

“In every way,” he agrees, though his tone changed. Warmer. Softer. “I’m more than aware.”

And now her heart races again, not due to the physical ministrations but for the undeniable devotion behind those words. She pulls him close again for a sound kiss, which he returns, encircling her softly in his embrace.

After a moment he pulls away and lets her go.

“Two minutes to get to the classroom,” he says. He opens the top right drawer of his desk and pulls out a tin of mints, offering them to her and taking a couple for himself. 

FOUR

Natasha hears the clink and slide of metal as Bucky’s key finally slots into the lock of the front door, and so she slides off the counter and turns on the panini press. She doesn’t make much else, but she’s become a bit of a sandwich artist and can make many a good combination, upping her game with grilled sandwiches after the acquisition of the panini press for her birthday.

God, they were so stupidly domestic now, and it was terrible and wonderful all at once.

“You’re finally home!” she calls out from the kitchen, hearing him stride down the hallway towards her. Strange, he usually drops his keys and hangs his jacket before settling in.

“Hi,” he says, popping his head around the corner.

Nat frowns. “Barnes, why are you home so late?”

They often took turns getting home late with different things going on at the studio, but usually it was with a hello and straightaway the explanation since they both care so much for everything happening in their dance world.

He slowly steps around the edge of the doorframe and into the kitchen, cradling the bulge of something held within his jacket.

“Barnes?”

He takes a few steps closer. “My queen–“

“You have never one day in your life called me your queen,” she interrupts, still wary, but now also bemused.

“I could, though. You know I'm your lover, a willing slave to your every wish.”

“You are two feet away from me, stop pouring on the charm and stalling and show me what’s in your jacket.”

His eyes are sparkling with mischief and his smile is sheepish as he looks down. It made her heart already melt and want to bend for whatever is coming. The thought crosses her mind that it’s a look he must’ve had on his face countless times when he was growing up.

“I didn’t ask you before buying a dance studio, and, full disclosure, I already bought everything we need – that being part of why I’m so much later tonight – and we can take it all back if you say no, but I rescued a cat from the alley behind the studio today.”

And with that, he turns and opens the front of his leather jacket to reveal a snow-white cat who looks very cozy tucked in where she was against his chest. Nat knows how comfy it is to be tucked up against that exact spot, it’s one of her favorite places to be.  

Nat just grins and shakes her head. Stepping forward, she slowly extends her hand toward the cat. The feline inclines her head, sniffs the tips of her fingers, then bumps her head to stroke herself against Natasha’s hand.

“You are such a softie,” she says, pulling Bucky down by the collar and planting a kiss on his lips.

“So, we can keep her?”

“Yes.”

He kisses her again, then leans down and places the cat on the kitchen floor. “Right, Alpine, you stay here with Nat, and I’ll be right back with your things.”

And in less than a second, he’s already out the door.

Nat puts the sandwiches she had already prepared on the grill, pulls the press closed, and then turns back to look at the cat, who is sitting primly back on her haunches and watching her.

“Alpine, huh?”

The cat blinks up at her.

“This man. How’d HYDRA’s most ruthless assassin end up like this, eh?”

Alpine takes a few steps forward and brushes up against her leg before turning and then heading out of the kitchen, likely back to the door to wait for Bucky.

FIVE

Nat approaches the bedroom doorway silently, preparing to surprise the two individuals laughing inside, but then the peals of laughter and tiny giggles cease, and she hears two bodies plop onto the bed – one big, one small. The door is slightly ajar, and she can see the super soldier and his goddaughter panting, sprawled out on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the ceiling. She loves seeing Bucky like this with Sarah and so decides to give them another moment and observe from the darkness of the hallway.

“I still don’t want to go to bed.” Nat’s face splits into a smile, knowing this Sarah mode all too well. Though it is difficult, summoning up all her godmotherly skills and fortitude, she can handle it well enough when necessary, but Bucky? No way.

“I know. But you’re already on your bed. I’ve won.”

“I don’t want to go to sleep, Uncle Bucky!”

“I’ll read you two picture storybooks or as much as you want from a chapter book, and then sleep. How’s that for a deal?”

“Deal!”

Nat stays in the shadows as she watches Sarah jump down from the bed, run to her bookshelf, and return with what looks like one of her Ramona books. Sarah thought she’d gotten the best deal, tricking her godfather into more reading with a chapter book, but Nat knows Bucky always wants Sarah to pick the latter because it means he’d read to her until she is softly snoring.

Sarah Marie Rogers has the former Winter Soldier irrevocably wrapped around her tiny fingers – had done since she was born and had only become more adept over the years at making him melt time and time again.

And it is as she’s watching him smooth Sarah’s hair down and pull the covers up over her little body with such tenderness that Nat knows why he’d brought home a cat last month, bought a building to turn into a dance studio a year and a half ago, and asked her on a date three years ago.

Her.

Sarah had changed everything.

Logistically, Steve had retired, and that removed him from the orbit of their team and their missions, resulting in slightly more time that she interacted with Bucky before they retired, but she’d never sat back and critically analyzed what had changed before that.

Sarah had changed her, too, no question.

But now she can see it.

Sarah was the first baby born close to Bucky, and he’d been smitten and over the moon about her immediately.

She was the first thing the man had loved unconditionally and without apology, a love unrestrained that he had never experienced in possibly any way similar since before he went away to war. Bucky didn’t have to justify it, it just blossomed, taking root in his soul, fully uncovering in a flash the warmth that had mostly been buried for ninety years and probably would have taken so much longer to emerge otherwise. 

“Sar, I gotta ask you a question,” Bucky says as he settles in next to Sarah with the book, drawing Nat’s attention back to the moment at hand.

She knew that tone – playful but with something serious underneath. She is always suspicious of that tone.

“Okay.”

“Let me show you something first.” Bucky digs into his pocket and pulls out a sparkling engagement ring.

Nat’s heart leaps into her chest, and it is only due to a lifetime of training to be imperceptible at all times that keeps her from gasping outright at the sight.

Sarah did gasp and ooooh appropriately though.

“Is that for Auntie Nat?” she chirps with excitement.

“I think so. I know you wanted me to marry you, and I still will if that’s what you want, but what if I married Auntie Nat?”

“Hmm,” she reaches out and delicately traces her tiny fingers over the ring Bucky was letting her examine. “That might be okay.”

“You sure?”

“Well, I was thinking, you’re going to be really old when I’m finally ready to get married.”

“Oh, that might be true,” he agrees, barely holding back a laugh.

“Yeah. You might be really wrinkly when I’m done with school, and I was thinking maybe I would marry someone else instead.”

“Sar… you say that like you already have someone in mind…”

“I don’t know for sure, I’m still deciding if I want to marry them or not!”

“Is it someone in your class?”

Nat bites her lip, grinning. She was certain she knew exactly who was being considered after seeing the kids in Sarah’s class picking up her goddaughter a few times from school.

“Maaaaaybe.”

“Well, okay. Only if I approve. Do you approve of Auntie Nat?”

Sarah nods eagerly. “I do. She is pretty, and kind, and the best ballet teacher, and she makes you laugh, and she does my hair in the good braids, and she is so smart, and always takes me for ice cream when I ask her, and has loved me my whole life, so I think it would be okay if you marry her.”

“Those are some of my favorite things, too,” Bucky says. “If you promise to keep it a secret that I’m gonna ask her, I promise you can be the flower girl at the wedding, deal?” He palms the ring and extends his pinky finger.

Without hesitation, Sarah locks her pinky with his. “Deal!” she agrees, beaming up at him. “Now read me my book.”

She snuggles down into his side, and he rolls his eyes. “You are a demanding little thing.”

“Daddy says it’s good to let people know exactly what you want.”

“Of course, he does.” Bucky leans down to kiss the top of her head, then wraps his arm around her and opens the book on his lap so they both can see as he starts to read, and Nat decides to retreat to the living room to let them have more time together.

SIX

Nat rolls her shoulders and yawns, turning to lay on her back. She frowns upon discovering Bucky’s side of the bed is uncharacteristically empty, the happy weight of Alpine sleeping atop the blankets at foot of their bed missing as well.

Then she registers a piercing stare from across the room and leans up only to see Bucky sitting in the decorative armchair they almost never used. He is stroking Alpine behind the ears, happily curled up in his lap, but his eyes are locked on her.

“Um, good morning, Cyborg.”

“You know.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t certain when it happened, but then I thought about it all night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I had grand intentions, but you overheard everything last night. I didn’t hear you creep up on us, which means you must’ve gotten there when Sarah and I were making a ruckus, but I did hear you slip away when I started reading her Ramona, so you already know I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

Nat sits up and smiles. “Oh. That. You can still pursue your grand intentions.”

“Nope, they’re ruined.”

“But I don’t know what your grand intentions are! You could still surprise me!”

“Nope, you’re expecting to be surprised.”

“You love that kind of challenge!”

“Nope, I’m obstinately averse now. I’ve decided I won’t be satisfied by anything else than seeing my ring on your finger straightaway.”

“Then you better get over here and ask me,” she says simply.

He stands, depositing Alpine softly on the chair behind him, crosses the bedroom, and kneels next to Nat’s side of the bed. With one hand, he grabs both of hers, with the other, he holds out the ring, gleaming against his black vibranium fingers. Then he lifts his gaze to hers, and all the sullen staring from moments before has melted away leaving only the pure adoration he holds for her.

“Will you?” His voice is thick with emotion.

“You know I will.”

“I don’t want to do anything except share the rest of my life with you,” he says, delicately but decisively slipping the ring onto her finger.

Nat pulls his face up to hers in a fierce kiss, and he crawls up onto the bed with her, wrapping her up in his arms, and laying her back down, ready to express again, as they had so many times over the past few years, how much they mean to each other in every way. They make vows with their words, their lips, and their bodies, giving themselves over completely as they already had, and as they would in perpetuity.

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[yonglixx]

Hello! I am a baby stay - very enthusiastic and very confused!

I have questions but I keep seeing "fake fan" posts. Are stays usually excited about new stays joining or are they mean to new stays? Can I ask questions online or will stays be upset because I don't know very much?

Can you explain their names? I get confused by Minho and ¿Jeongin? - are those just other names for lee know and IN? Do other members have alternate names? Sometimes I can't figure out ship names and I think it's because of this. Han gets called something else too I think sometimes.

Thank you!

Hi:) sorry for taking too long to answer I was busy but im glad you're a fan:) so to answer your first question , no Stays don't mind at all!! I mean we all started as baby stays so I know it might seem scary but people are always happy and Im not sure where these "fake fan" posts are coming from , I personally have never seen them but ofc there will always be toxic fans (every fandom has it so thats expected but we have more good fans than toxic so thats good). Also, people are generally happy to receive any type of ask and they will not be mean at all, unless they are just a mean person haha (don't get discouraged , like I said more good fans than mean or toxics fans haha).

For your second question, yes they are just simply nicknames so they all have them , here are some commons ones and a good post on quora. And I know its confusing (I accidentally tagged them wrong in my posts when I was a baby stay haha so its all good nobody expects you to learn their names and nicknames right away, you'll get used to it as you go).

For your third question , completion albums like replay are divided into A side and B side so the B side tracks are with no psychical release so online but here is a google simple explanation: "SKZ-RECORD is a collection of songs by members of Stray Kids that were not formally released. These include special tracks, covers and other non-promotional projects released by the members on YouTube. SKZ-PLAYER is a collection of video projects by members of Stray Kids that were not formally released." And no not all skz songs are gonna have Music videos sadly but I don't think anyone really does that.

And for your fourth question, the only subunit that was established , I think before they became official is 3racha (han, Bang Chan, and changbin and also rap-line) and they produce the majority of their music so song writing, composing, and producing. The rest of the rachas followed this and while danceracha (Lino, Felix, Hyunjin) are the main dance group , so they lead, and sometimes help with choreography but they are not as established as 3racha but they are known to be I guess the "best" so thats why they lead, especially Lino. (he used to be a backup dancer for BTS). And then there is vocalrachca which is mainly Seungmin and I.N. All of this is confusing I know but don't worry, you will get it as you go.

For your last question, 'shipping' like in a friendship way is totally okay and we all do it but not more than that, like there are people who always just take it too far and it is very inappropriate and the members have not said anything unless its just to entertain their friendship 'ships' for fun. So when it comes to "shipping" just use common sense I guess, these are real people and we see them together all the time bc they are a group/freinds so you can't speculate on their personal or relationship status'. It's just deeply uncomfortable, unethical, and just weird so as long as its just for friendship like you will see a lot of people tag some posts with their favorite duo as "hyunlix" which is Felix and hyunjin for example but nothing weird. So here is again a great thread from Quora for those names.

Lastly, I just want to say I hope I answered your questions or some of them at least, its very confusing like I said, so just take it easy and be respectful and have fun and I hope you enjoy being a stay and thank you for asking:)

[the-void-writes]

For any OC you want to develop more!

🎹 🎯🥊🍎🧠💀🍩 :3

Thank you so much buddy!!!! I’m going with Dante because I miss him a lot lol

Picrew 1 | Picrew 2

🎹 Do they have any hobbies?

Engineering, coding, dancing, and party-hosting. When he starts living with Will, he acquires a love for gardening and cooking.

🎯 What do they do best?

Dante’s a fantastic robotics engineer, with seven functioning androids to prove it. He’s also a wonderful host for parties, even if he’s lost his enthusiasm for it.

🥊 What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

He loves making new machines, testing the limits of his magical resources, seeing what he can create. The one thing he hates though, despite throwing a great party, is having to go to a formal palace event. Gazali usually throws some fun parties, but when it’s a business or political meeting, Dante feels suffocated.

🍎 What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

Dante’s birth father was arrested when he was little, so he grew up without a father for a while. His mother worked hard to support him and his siblings, and Dante helped out however he could. Eventually, Dante’s mother married Mr. Waller, a mayoral candidate who based his campaign around saving the Briggs family from poverty.

Dante hates Waller for his policies and for using his family for votes, even if Waller claims to truly love his mother. Despite marrying a corrupt politician, Dante still loves and respects his mother. He doesn’t remember anything about his birth father, but he respects him enough to still keep his family name.

🧠 What do you like most about the OC?

I love Dante’s dual personalities— the fun and laid-back party animal mixed with a passionate seeker of justice and fairness. It’s nice to explore which masks he puts on for which people, and who gets to see through it all to the kind man underneath.

He’s also just fun to write dialogue for. He has a loose way of speaking that feels fresh in comparison to everyone else in the series.

💀 Does your OC have any phobias?

He’s terrified of heights because he almost died on a faulty ferris wheel. It’s an unfortunate coincidence that his partner can fly, but thankfully, Will is respectful of his limits.

🍩 Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

The joke answer is Gazali. They have their own sibling rivalry despite being 500 years apart. Gazali’s just too pacifist and forgiving for Dante’s tastes, which he’s secretly jealous of. That being said, their relationship is still friendly. They tease and argue, but at the end of the day, they respect each other.

[vytels]

Reposting this with grammar and spelling fixed because it was bothering me. For context, this was posted based on an incorrect quote post. The original post is linked here.

Just needed to write a little something based on this that made my brain go wirrr

TW: self-depreciation, thoughts about death/suicide, overall general horrible feelings…. Basically, Fox NOT having a good time… Also, typos, cause I’m writing this at the ass crack of night and I’m supposed to be SLEEPING

Sloshes of cocktails and condensation fell to the floor, beers clinked together in toasts and cheers, but yet, it wasn’t as busy at 79’s as it usually was. Parties of clones crowded together in respected booths, a few stragglers slipping onto the dance floor to get a feel for a pretty lady or man. The music buzzed between them and the lights clung brightly to the walls, unimpeded by bodies or howling voices.

Fox didn’t care for 79’s much anyway. Besides the rapid amount of headaches and groans that it brought him, he found himself seeing it as only a small connection to his brothers on the frontlines. It provided him a face-to-face that holocalls couldn’t achieve, although only once every few months.

“Are your boys treating you well, Rex?” Ponds’ elbow shoved into Fox’s side as the man craned his head forward.

The blond trooper turned to them and a smile appeared at the edge of his lips, his shoulders slumping toward the table as he leaned in. “They weren’t too bad this time around, I think they might be settling down.”

“Don’t jinx it, vod’ika,” Cody warned, “Your men don’t know the meaning of settling. You told me they tried to make a water slide in the docking hangar of the Resolute a month ago.”

“Eh, they’re just bored,” Wolffe said, “the 501st moves around more than anyone else does, they have more time between missions to get stuck in their heads.”

“They do deal with it interestingly then,” Rex grumbled.

Fox couldn’t help but agree, though his eyes lingered across his vod’ika’s form. There was a mirth in the man’s eyes, a fondness in his smile, and a softening in his brows. The Captain cared deeply for his men, for his own vod’ika, despite the trouble they put him through. There was always a story on his mind about Fives and Echo, or a joke that heard from Jesse, or an incident from Hardcase.

There was something there that struck Fox, something that clung deep at his chest, in a way that almost made him gasp. Somehow, it was overwhelming.

“Well,” Fox said, “Have the Terrible Torrents come up with anything more recently to deal with this boredom?”

A smile widened across Rex’s face. “They came up with a game, based on a natborn game.”

“Oh, this ought to be good.” Bly leaned in. “What is it?”

“It’s based on kiss, marry, kill,” Rex explained, “which is a game where you name three people and then choose who you’d kiss, marry, or kill from the three.”

Cody nodded, raising an eyebrow. “How’d they change that then?”

Rex snickered. “They ran out of people they knew until it was only vod that they knew… so you know, they just changed the wording. Turned it into keldabe, vod pile partner, and kill.”

“Not as easy to say,” Ponds muttered with a look of disdain, “But I can’t imagine marrying or kissing a vod.”

Bly gave him a look. “Isn’t a keldabe a kiss?”

“It can be familial and you know it,” Ponds retorted, “You literally shove your forehead against any of ours the moment you get the chance!”

“Guilty,” Bly conceded.

Wolffe hummed. “Well, are we going to play it?”

“I’m interested,” Cody added, “It sounds like fun.”

Rex smirked as his ori’vode turned to him and let them throw him through the rounds of the game, pulling on all vod they knew from across the Galaxy. Putting Neyo against Gree, pushing Thorn against Keeli and Kix, throwing Crys with Waxer and Boil, laughing as he offered up Hardcase, Wrecker, and Fives, and smirking when he mentioned Alpha-17, Colt, and Fordo.

“You know that’s not fair,” Cody said immediately. “All of us would snatch up 17 for a pile partner before the others.”

“Then who are you killing?” Rex challenged. “Colt or Fordo?”

“Colt, at least I’d have a chance at winning.” Bly took a swig of his drink.

Wolffe shook his head. “I bet I could take out Fordo, besides he hates me.”

“That’s because you bit him.”

“So did Fox!”

Fox smirked. “He deserved it. I’m going with Fordo too.”

“You two are horrible.” Cody frowned. “I’ll kill Colt.”

“Agreed,” Ponds said.

“Alright, alright… last one?” Rex asked.

“Hit us with your best shot,” Wolffe growled at him.

Rex looked over them for a moment, thoughts whirling behind his eyes before a smirk covered his face. He leaned closer as he spoke, his voice punctuating the names.

“Me, Wolffe, Fox. The vod’ike.”

“Oh, well, I’m killing Fox.” Bly leaned back immediately.

Fox’s head snapped to his ori’vod, a glare pulling at his eyes but he kept his face level as Ponds snorted next to him.

“I think I have to agree with that,” Ponds said, “But I’m vod piling with Rex.”

“Not me?” Wolffe growled immediately.

But Fox didn’t hear the rest of the argument, not as his eyes slid to the orange-colored commander next to him. Cody stroked his chin, a horrible habit he had gained from his general, and stared toward the ceiling. Gears seemed to come to life in his head as he thought before his hand dropped away and slapped against the table.

Everyone’s heads snapped to him, the argument between Wolffe and Ponds fading to the side as the oldest of their batch smirked.

“I figured it out.” Cody nodded. “Kill Fox, keldabe Wolffe, and vod pile with Rex.”

Despite the sting in his chest, the tightening at the back of his throat, Fox slipped under his mask. A smirk played across his lips and he leaned back against the booth, eyes flickering across all his brothers.

“Yeah, I’d kill me too.” Fox waved a hand, ignoring the churning in his stomach. “I’ll vod pile with you, Wolffe.”

Wolffe smirked, before immediately turning to Ponds. “See? Even Fox wants to vod pile with me!”

The argument between them grew again, but it felt like a buzzing at Fox’s ears as he reached back to grab his drink. He knocked back, trying to get rid of the pain pounding in his ribs and gut, trying to loosen the tightening of his throat.

His batchmates had pointed to kill him off, not even bothering to argue against it in any form. It flipped his stomach, even if it was just a game. A meaningless game, but yet it drove a stake through his heart.

But he understood it too, he really did.

Fox wasn’t like his batchmates. He didn’t fight on the front lines, he didn’t put his life on the line for his brothers staring down a battlefield filled with droids, and he certainly didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve like they did.

But more than that, he didn’t really deserve to be the one receiving a keldabe, or being trusted as a pile partner. He wasn’t as good of a commander as he should be, he didn’t save the lives of his men as much as his batchmates did, and he most certainly couldn’t explain the blood that he’d find on his hands when he woke up in the morning.

His batchmates were good men, and he knew he wasn’t.

It seemed like they knew it too.

The night ended shortly after that. His batchmates huddled together as they wobbled back to the GAR barracks, doing their best to make themselves look like a cohesive group of competent men. And they pulled it off well too, despite the tiredness that dragged at them and the drunken tilts of their vision.

But Fox walked another way, back to the headquarters of the Coruscant Guard, back to his tiny office with a desk overflowing with datapads and flimsiwork.

He sat at his desk, thought of the way his vode had pointed at him, and wondered if the pills stashed in the back of his drawer were worth it.