#what can i say. she bewitched me body and soul

[pelinthehay]

me every time i have to endure a whole week without hearing the voice of my dear beloved baby kitten sugarplum princess gwendolyn bouchard

[calisources]

𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒, 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences were taken from difference media about age gap and age difference relationships, all acceptable relationships within consenting adults with age differences. Please do not use for teenagers or taboo relationships. These have some foul language or suggestive undertones so please beware. You can change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I bet it doesn’t feel like this with that boy of yours, does it?

You’ll never know when I’m going to drag you into the darkness, pumping my cock into one of your tight holes. And you’ll take every inch like a good little girl.

What a tiny life we’d live if we fashioned ourselves to the comforts of others.

I think I'm a little old for that, love.

No, not old. But you're, you know, a man.

Tell me that you've never had anyone else. I want you to pretend.

You show me things I've forgotten.

Sometimes I think you must have seen it all before. That I can't show you anything new.

I like you as you are, he said. Even if you're going to wear me out.

I’m rough with your body sometimes, but I’ll always be gentle with your soul. She bruises far more easily.

This prince is a few years younger than you, and does not have much experience.

I must have forgotten how young you would be, Princess. Has there ever been a sovereign of such tender age?

Who is to say what love is or what it wants to be, the shape it takes, or how quickly it comes on? Love has always made a fool of time.

I don’t feel old. As a matter of fact, sitting here with you makes me feel older, not younger. Nothing is rubbing off.

Mr. Rochester was about forty, and this governess not twenty; and you see, when gentlemen of his age fall in love with girls, they are often like as if they were bewitched.

He's old enough to be your father.

Tonks deserves somebody young and whole.

But she wants you. And after all, Remus, young and whole men do not necessarily remain so.

Age is no barrier. It's a limitation you put on your mind.

Age considers; youth ventures.

Age, like distance lends a double charm. 

I'm a strong believer that a good relationship can work, whatever the situation. 

Love knows no boundaries, not even the ones defined by age.

Don’t let society’s judgment define your love. Follow your heart, despite the age difference.

Most people would be upset they get an old man as their husband.  

Do not worry about your age, Ser. The lady pays attention not to age but prowess.

I will not let time choose my lovers for me. I trust my own judgement. 

You should look to more prosperous gardens, Your Grace.

I was sixteen years old when you were born.

No doubt you were much my superior in judgement at that period of our lives; but does not the lapse of one-and-twenty years bring our understandings a good deal nearer?

Come, my dear Emma, let us be friends, and say no more about it. 

I have seldom seen a face or figure more pleasing to me than hers. But I am a partial old friend.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

We spend more time discussing this matter than being together as a couple. And I believe you are doing it on purpose.

You think my attention is as fickle that I would look elsewhere.

Perhaps it would be you who looks elsewhere. A handsome older man must have youthful maidens at his disposal.

If we were closer in age, it would've been fine.

I have loved you since the moment I helped you with your zipper. 

Would it make you feel better if I call you Daddy while you fuck me?

You’ll be a silver fox before 40 at this rate.

Well, it’s definitely your fault. You stress me out. You’re making my hair turn white.

It’s easy to cast opinions when your heart isn’t the one invested.

I hope you love me, because I love you like crazy, and I'm going to want you the rest of my life.

You already know the truth. And I will be by your side, but I am not good for you.

I am tired of others getting to choose who is good for me. You do that quite often, frequently. 

You'll keep your name. You'll keep your will. You'll have your own servants to attend you— you will have everything you ask for.

Don't ask me to let you do. Do you understand? Do not ask me.

It might be best for us, for myself, if I found myself useful elsewhere.

I wish you could just slow down so I could catch up to you.

Stamina is not an issue. But rather what others will whisper.

When are you going to get over this? All I did was touch your leg.

Why would it matter if someone saw you saying hello to me?

But it’s nice to be around you. Like I haven’t lost a decade of my life.

I been in love with you since I was six, fool. 

I will always belong to you, but I’m afraid there will be others after me. I’m not a young man/woman.

A kiss ... a muse. It is a question, an unlocked door. It is ... elation ... and anguish.

You have treated me better than any young man my age. Why should I go for either of them? 

Young men are eager lovers. I prefer my lovers to take their time. I’m sure with men is the same.

You make me feel really safe. i’m not used to that.

You gave an old man purpose again. And that is more than I can ask of you.

I was a child then, with a crush and a dream. As I grew, dreams changed but you remain the one in my dreams.

I have thought about kissing you a lot. What would that make me?

I have more in common with you than men my age.

Do not pretend to think what I think.

More recently, there are rumors she prefers her lovers to be younger. Truth to be told, I don’t blame her.

I will teach you in time, but for now restrain me and have your way with me. I don’t want to think, I just want to feel.

We have never done anything to be ashamed of. You’ve never done anything to be ashamed of.

Personally, I think the difference keeps us interesting in another another. 

You can teach me all you wish, and I can learn. I know I can.

There is always a wild side to an innocent face.

You are being too forward right now, my lady. Be careful.

There would be other loves. Even great loves. But she was right, only one remained perfect.

Maybe there are some people you marry and people you love.

Just so you know, you're a natural lover. Your body expresses beautifully what's in your heart.

I have never felt so alive... as when I am in your arms.

A 5 to 7 relationship is a relationship outside of marriage.

You're older than I am, you're wiser I'm sure and you've seen much more of the world.

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys confessing their feelings

☆ characters: zoro, mihawk

☆ up next: what are we? (law x reader)

☆ a/n: my two favorite swordsmen.. i didn't realize how much i missed writing for zoro so definitely expect more marimo content in upcoming posts. enjoy lovelies!

zoro 

“Let’s go fishing, Usopp,” Luffy laughed, “Oi! Zoro! Wanna fish with us? I heard there’s Sea Kings in these waters!”

Zoro waved a hand in Luffy’s direction to dissent, though he wasn’t really paying attention to anything happening around him.

A third bottle of beer found its way into the hands of the scarred swordsman, and was happily chugged within seconds.

His head was buzzing, though not from alcohol.

He was nervous.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt for the umpteenth time that night, trying to work up a sense of courage. 

To his satisfaction, no one else had seemed to notice his behavior, 

You were flipping through a magazine with Nami, suntanning in the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen. 

He couldn’t think straight when you were around and he really needed to- now more than ever.

For weeks now he’d been trying to think of how to admit his feelings to you- a harder feat for him than most.

To completely let down every wall he’d spent years and years building up for even just a moment or two of vulnerability.

He’d come close to telling you several times already, and he was pretty sure he might have let something slip before when he was drunk, leading to more than one awkward morning after. He’d avoid you, beat himself up over it, get drunk again that night to forget anything ever happened, and repeat the night before. 

It was a disaster. 

“You know,” Sanji had said one particularly awkward morning after- more to himself than Zoro, “You’d have a better shot if you didn’t ignore her completely the morning after a horrendously drunk and half-assed confession.”

Zoro had ignored him and stormed out to cut something in half but his advice- if you could call it that- stuck with him.

So here he was now, looking for a quiet place so he could rehearse what he was going to say.

What did he want to say? He paced back and forth, muttering lines he’d written down from movies or famous love quotes.

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he’d tried, turning towards a mirror to see how he looked. 

Absolutely not. You’d definitely read that book. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul- No. No way, I’m not saying that.”

He crushed the piece of paper in his fist and opted to take a nap and have a drink, failproof support systems that had yet to fail him. 

“I don’t know, Nami,” you said, “I mean he’s been drunk every single time and it’s starting to really piss me off. 

It’s like… every time I’m stupid enough to believe it! Even though I know he’s drunk he gets so sincere for a moment or two and says stuff like ‘You're really beautiful you know that?’ or ‘I feel… a connection with you’. And I’m dumb enough to believe it every damn time.”

“And then he ignores you the next day and pretends nothing happened.”

“Yeah. It’s so weird though, ‘cause I swear- it’s like he gets possessed by rationality and calm in the midst of being a drunken idiot and he says these things with such intent! It’s jarring. I mean he goes from a moron to a Jane Austen romantic hero. What the hell is that?”

“I mean, no offense,” Nami started, your stomach churned with dread before she could even continue, “But maybe he’s just.. you know, trying to hook up. Drop some half assed compliments and hope that’s enough to get him laid.”

An uncomfortable feeling of sadness swallowed you whole. You sighed, taking a sip of your drink. 

“I know. I don’t think he’s lying about the attraction, but it would save me a lot of grief if he was just straightforward. That way I could just hook up with him and get it over with.”

Nami laughed, “Gross! You know he showers like once a week right?”

“I can fix him,” you said, laughing with her. 

The boys had caught a mountain of fish and sea creatures, so Sanji had promised you all a feast. 

Brook had started playing before the sun had set and Robin and Franky were dancing. 

You played some beer pong with Luffy and Usopp, while Nami helped Sanji in the kitchen. 

You loved nights like these, but as much as you wanted to enjoy yourself you knew that with parties and fun came booze. 

And with booze came a certain drunken swordsman promising you sweet nothings. 

You tried to focus on the game but were getting badly beat. 

You walked into the kitchen to sit with Nami who was sipping on a piña colada, special treatment from Sanji, of course.

“Make me one too Sanji-kun! Please,” you asked. 

He gladly obliged. 

The three of you talked and laughed while Sanji cooked, enjoying the music and sight of the younger boys playing with Chopper. 

The kitchen door swung open and in walked Zoro, who had been very clearly napping. His hair was matted in some places and his eyes still carried the sag of someone who’d been involuntarily woken up from a nap.

“Smelled food,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

You finished your drink and got up out of your seat. 

“Leaving, Y/n?” Sanji asked. 

Zoro turned to look at you, like he was about to say something. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m gonna go read for a bit. Thank you for the food!”

Nami shot you a sympathetic look and waved bye to you. 

Zoro sighed, not totally oblivious to the timing of his entrance and your departure. 

Sanji and Nami glared at him.

He rolled his eyes at them, “I’ll fix it.”

And he walked out to join Luffy. 

Amidst the general excitement that had spread itself throughout the crew over the course of the night was Zoro who was making his way toward the crow’s nest, in hopes of finding you. 

You were tucked into a corner of the room, reading a book. 

Your knees were up on the sofa and you seemed to be nearly asleep. 

He felt somewhat guilty interrupting you.

But it was now or never. 

He walked in, not saying anything. 

You sat up, closing your book. 

Your stomach was in a knot. 

The swordsman sat next to you, close enough that his knee touched yours. 

He was sitting up straighter than usual, and seemed restless, fidgeting with his hands until he finally set his left hand on top of your right one that was resting beside you. 

Your eyes widened, you were surprised by this, but didn’t say anything. 

“Y/n, can I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to for a while but I- Well, I’ve never done anything like this before so I fucked it up. More than once. So I’m going to fix it right now.”

You nodded hesitantly, caught somewhat off-guard by his unusual behavior. 

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped. 

Everything around you momentarily stopped as your brain tried to catch up to speed with everything that had just happened.

In an instant you were suddenly hyper-aware of everything- the strong pulse of your heartbeat, the sweat that had gathered on your palms, how you felt suspended in both motion and time as he sat waiting for some kind of response. 

But you knew Zoro, and recognized that rosy glow on his cheeks. You knew that when he approached you after midnight with unusual confidence and gusto, on a night when you’d all been celebrating. 

How he always sat next to you, closer and closer every time, this time placing his hand on top of yours. 

You broke eye contact to look down at your hands. 

“I love you, too,” you chose to interpret it as a friendly drunken slip-up, “Make sure you tell everyone else that you love them too, or they’ll get jealous.”

You turned back to your book, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, covering it up with an unconvincing smile.  

“No.”

You turned, confused, “N-no?”

“I meant it.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him. 

“I love you.”

The air around the two of you was completely stagnant, full of tension. 

He’d done this before; gotten drunk, been suddenly affectionate and touchy, and then acted completely normal the next day, even ignoring you when you tried to talk to him about it. 

You weren’t going to let it happen again. 

Scoffing, you brushed him off, moving your hand out from under his.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to ignore the disappointment that had started to spread throughout your body, “Why don’t you get some water? Or bread? But don’t do this to me again.” 

You got up and placed your book down, ready to make your way to your room and try and forget anything had happened, like he would.

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Zoro stood up behind you and turned you around to face him.

“I’m not drunk,” he started, “Last thing I’d want to do is ruin this with some kind of idiotic drunken rant. I-I want to remember this- I want you to remember this!

Everything about this- how damn cold it is up here, what you’re wearing, what I say to you, how it ends, everything.”

His hands were squeezing your shoulders, and his stare was full of an intensity you couldn’t have reciprocated if you tried.

You’d seen him before in battle- swords drawn, back hunched, and eyes settled onto his victim like a hungry animal. 

But this was different, it was vulnerable. He was being weak in front of you.  

He took a deep breath. 

You had never felt so focused in your life, your eyes were intently set on his and your brows furrowed in concentration as you took in everything about this moment. 

“I love you! I love you and- and I don’t mean it the way we say it to each other in battle, or as crewmates.

 I hate that! I hate calling you my crewmate, my friend, my companion. 

You are! 

You are, but I hate that that’s all I can call you. 

So I came to you to tell you that I love you.

Entirely.”

He brought his hands down to interlace them with yours. 

“I love you,” he said again, this time bending down slightly to level his eyesight with yours. 

He looked at you with concern, lips slightly parted.

Your breath was shaky and you had unconsciously grabbed onto his forearms to stabilize yourself while you tried to process what was happening. 

You stayed silent, your confusion as evident as his desperation. 

Another few moments passed with no words exchanged, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath- waiting for you to say anything. 

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your mind racing through the millions of different things you wanted to say.

How dare you? Are you serious? I love you too! I never want to talk to you again. I love you too! What happens now? 

Zoro’s grip on your shoulders softened and his shoulders sunk. A look of disappointment settled itself onto his stoic features and he let go of you, in a kind of heartbroken acceptance. 

He nodded, more to himself than you. 

“Goodnight,” he said, walking back out. 

“Zoro- Zoro, wait! Wait, please.”

He stopped and turned around- Were those tears in his eyes?

“I love you, too,” you said, in a much calmer tone than expected, “I have since I set foot on this ship, since I first saw you. I love you.”

His eyes widened and he picked you up in his arms, wrapping them around your waist as you sunk into his chest hugging him back with all the force you could muster. 

He spun you around, pressing kisses to the top of your head. 

You cried into his chest, and felt a tear or two fall onto your forehead when you looked up at him as he finally set you down.

“I thought that- I thought I’d fucked everything up and that-”

Zoro was rambling, his hands holding onto you again, with a grip that reassured you he didn’t want to let go. 

You interrupted him by crashing your lips into his, sending him reeling backwards.

He landed on the floor, one arm breaking the fall and the other wrapped around you.

You straddled him and deepened the kiss bringing your hands to rest on his chest as he pulled you closer into his body.

The two of you kissed and kissed, pulling away only when you were desperate for breath, before resuming again. 

When you were finally tired enough, you simply sat smiling like idiots at each other. 

“I should’ve been honest with you months ago,” Zoro said, bringing a hand up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek. 

You grabbed his forearm, leaning your cheek into his hold.

A smile spread out over your face.

“It’s okay, I knew.”

mihawk

He’d been dreading it for weeks- months, even. 

Never in his life did he think that he’d find himself in a position of having to stay on Red Hair’s ship, but here he was. Sat at a table on the deck, an overflowing pint of beer in his hand, and Red Haired pirates laughing and swearing and drinking on all sides of him. And then out of nowhere, there was you. 

They told him you’d been part of the crew for 5 months now, a rookie pirate in need of a ship and some stability and had found your way onto the Red Force after winning several games of poker against Shanks. 

He’d had an eye on you from the moment you walked out onto the deck, in a pair of deliciously short shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves in the most alluring way he’d ever seen. 

You poured yourself a pint and played a game of blackjack with members of the crew whose name’s he didn’t know, or care to know. 

He sat with Shanks and the other officers in the crew. 

“She’s somethin’, isn’t she?” Shanks asked, laughing as he took note of his friend’s interest in you, much to his evident annoyance.

“I suppose I just didn’t think a woman like that would be on a crew like yours, Red Hair.”

“Neither did we,” Benn chimed in, earning a playful nudge from his captain. 

A sudden eruption of noise diverted their attention towards the betting table you were sitting at.

You were smiling, graciously accepting your winnings from your crewmates who were alleging cheating.

“There’s only four jacks in a deck!”

“I saw her hand moving!”

“She was card counting!”

Yasopp laughed and called you over, “Before they start swinging!”

You approached their table, weaving your way toward them through your drunk and rowdy crewmates, before taking a seat next to Mihawk, who was clearly uneasy with your presence. 

What was he supposed to do? He felt a strange desire to make a good impression on you, and realized part of him was hoping to form a friendship. His stomach churned at the unusual feeling. 

“Didn’t think I’d ever meet a legend like yourself,” you’d said to him, as you extended your hand, “Y/n, pleasure to meet you.

You’re a lot less scary in person! And a lot more handsome.”

You smelled like cherries and whiskey, sweet and addicting. 

He took your hand, despite his embarrassment at your compliments and against his better judgment followed up with, “Likewise.”

Shanks whistled, and put his arm around the swordsman’s shoulders, “Never seen you flirt before!”

The table laughed and you asked Benn for a cigarette, bending over to let him light it for you. 

“Calm down, Shanks,” you said as you puffed a small cloud of smoke, “No one’s flirting.”

He felt his chest tighten slightly, had you not been flirting? He wasn’t experienced but he figured that you had at least professed some kind of interest. 

You turned to look at him and winked. 

His chest tightened again. 

Lucky had started another card game, and you played as you talked. Mihawk asked about your life before piracy- a story for another time, you’d told him. He talked about details of his life that were unknown even to Shanks- small things like his garden at home, his favorite things to cook, and even certain details of his warlord duties. It was unlike him to share anything with anyone, but the way you stared up at him batting your big doe eyes with a cigarette hanging lazily from your plump glossy lips… he found himself unable to resist the urge to keep you interested in his presence.

The noise of the ship eventually faded into the background, the talking and laughing melting into their own conversations. 

Hours passed and eventually music started playing, some other new crew members that had brought their instruments on board with them. 

“We finally have some good musicians, don’t we Y/n?” Shanks asked. 

“Mhmm,” you replied, looking through your cards barely paying him any attention. You tapped your feet rhythmically against the floor, humming along to the quick paced flamenco melody that was playing. 

“Do you dance, swordsman?” you asked, turning to look at Mihawk.

You heard Shanks groan in the background. 

“Occasionally.”

You set your cards down, face up, revealing a winning hand. The rest of the table threw their cards down in frustration. 

“Will you do me the honors?”

A rare smile settled onto his face. He offered his hand to help you up out of your chair, and you guided him to a more open area on the deck. He placed a hand on your waist, and you took a guilty pleasure in how unyielding his grip was against you. You could feel the pads of each of his fingers holding onto your soft skin, and trailed your hand up to his face, lightly tracing a finger down the side of his neck before resting your hand on his shoulder.

People whistled and clapped. 

“Keep up,” you said.

“I’ll try.”

He appreciated your warning, you were like a different person when dancing. The cool, calculated demeanor you adopted when playing cards with your poker face perfected and your breathing steady and even, was completely washed over by a fiery intent to move. 

He did struggle to keep up at first, you slipped through his hold like water, your feet moving and landing between and around him like a downpour of rain. 

He managed to match your tempo- catch the tail end of your movements and proved a worthy partner, but he didn’t come close to matching your mastery of the art. 

By the time the song was finished beads of sweat dripped down his neck, and his heart was pounding loud enough that he could barely hear the cheering coming from the other pirates.

He wanted to give you the credit of wearing someone of his caliber out, he could take on a hundred men and barely increase his heart rate. 

This was different though- the beating in his chest, the excitement in his belly, the way his eyes clung to your figure as though attached with string. He couldn’t get enough of you, he inhaled smelling your perfume again. 

Another smile settled onto his face, one of satisfaction. 

Three week had passed and Mihawk was grabbing the last of his things- a photo of the two of you you’d forced him to take. It was of you pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Shanks lightly knocked on his door. 

“Sure you don’t want to stay another week?” he asked, awkwardly standing by the door.

“That’s what you came to ask?”

Shanks rubbed the back of his neck, “No, it’s actually about Y/n.”

This caught his attention. 

“What about her?”

“Well,” Shanks walked over to sit on the bed, “I think you should talk to her before you leave, tell her how ya feel.”

“How I… feel? And how exactly do you think I feel?”

“C’mon man, it’s obvious- No offense. The way you two look at each other? You danced with her. In front of people.”

The swordsman scoffed, but didn’t disagree and chose to maintain his silence as he packed the rest of his clothes.

“She likes ya, Hawk-eye. I think you knew that though. 

Don’t say anything if you’re gonna hurt her.”  

He got up and gave him a friendly pat on the back before heading back out, “We’re headed to a bar right now, so you’ll have the ship to yourself. Take care of her!”

It was unclear whether he was talking about the ship or you.

Mihawk sighed, he adjusted the collar of his loosely fitting white shirt, and set out to find you. 

You were in one of the common areas, one of the musicians was showing you how to play the guitar. Plucking at a few strings here and there, you laughed and sang, trying to play a song with your clearly limited ability.

Mihawk stood and watched you for a moment, before clearing his throat.

You turned, smiling when you saw him. 

“What do you think? Good enough to dance to?”

He let out a light laugh, “Maybe in ten years.”

You smiled, plucking a few more strings before asking, “What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be packing?”

“I was hoping to speak with you for a moment,” he paused when you stayed put, “Alone.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Of course!”

You handed the guitar back to its owner, ignoring the whistles that followed you out of the room.

You took Mihawk’s arm and walked toward the deck, your stomach turning. 

You stopped at the railing, leaning over it, trying to take deep breaths of the salty air to calm yourself.

What on Earth could he have to talk to you about? Shanks had promised not to say anything… Could he possibly- 

“I’m… very appreciative of your company these past few weeks. 

You’re a very intelligent, talented, beautiful woman, and I cannot think of a better companion with whom to have spent my time,” he started, interrupting your train of thought. 

You softly smiled, a light breeze dancing around you both. 

You said nothing and only looked up at him, unsure of how to pick up from where he left off.

Luckily, he continued, “You… You are a good friend. Of mine, I mean. And I hope that my departure from this ship won’t change our proximity.”

Friend. A dull, warm pain ebbed in your chest.

It wasn’t sharp like a direct rejection would have been, it felt more like a heavy rock had been gently placed right on your heart.

You nodded, looking out toward the ocean when you felt some tears well up in your lash line. 

Blinking them away you turned back toward him suddenly emboldened by the memory of how he held you that night when you danced.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but can I ask if you hold me in any higher regard than that of a friend?”

He was silent. Color rushed to his cheeks and he stared down at you. His eyes were undersold in legend. To say they were hypnotizing was a disservice. They were compelling- when you made eye contact with him your entire being longed to be with him. 

“I do.”

You exhaled, tension lifting itself from your shoulders.

“I like you, swordsman,” you gently wrapped your hands around his, bringing his hand up to your chest, placing it against the left side, “I’ll miss dancing with you. Please visit. Please don’t forget me.” 

In a sudden motion, Mihawk wrapped you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he pressed you into him.

You wiggled your arms free and quickly reciprocated the hug. 

You breathed in a long, long inhale, and as you exhaled sunk even further into him. 

“I’ll visit,” he promised, “I’ll write. I’ll call- I’ll think of you always. You’re quite unforgettable, you know?”

You laughed and looked up to him as his hold on you softened.

You inched yourself up onto the tips of your toes, hovering your lips just slightly over his. 

A smile creeped onto his face, and his hands dispersed across your body, one grabbing onto your ass- something he’d longed to do since the first moment he saw you. The other hand wrapped around your waist to provide you support.

You brought your hands to the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him toward you.

His lips closed around yours, and you deepened the kiss- pulling him closer into you, your tongues swiping at each other as you closed your eyes and indulged. 

You inhaled each other- the taste of wine and mint flooding your mouth, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses.

The strong grip he had on your ass was so deliciously indulgent. 

You let out a soft moan into his mouth before you pulled away from one another.

He tucked some stray hair behind your ears, and you gently wiped some of your gloss from his bottom lip. 

“I’ve been waiting for that for weeks now.”

He picked you up, making his way toward your room, peppering your face and neck with kisses and you laughed and kissed him back. 

“Let me make it up to you, hermosa.”

[inklore]

you are now legally required to supply me with some harwin smut

bewitching

pairing: harwin strong x princess!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: eighteen+ content, porn with very little plot, f receiving oral, daddy harwin eats pussy like it’s his last meal, he’s literally in love with reader, mutual pining, marking, reader can ride dragons therefore was written with being a targaryen in mind, insinuated that reader is a virgin, brief mentions of masturbation and dirty talk.

etc: could never say no to you my lovey, i hope this filth serves you well <3 it’s my first time writing in the got world so go easy on me!

“Ser—” the princess’ gasp is barely above that of a whisper, but in the desolate halls the sound echoes off the stone like a melody wrapped in silk, that lands at the heart of his desire and the head of his cock. “Harwin.”

“Do you wish me to stop, princess?”

Gods he prayed not, as his eyes looked down at you. The heavy heave of your chest—of the bare breast he just had in his mouth, tongue swirling, lips wrapped around your nipple.

A brief taste; longing looks from across crowded gatherings and fields, conversations that held more tension than a cast iron, that wicked smile that could bring forth the strongest of men to drop down in front of you—is all it took for a festering wound of affliction to blister deep in Ser Harwin Strong’s bravado.

If you were to push him away, to put an end to this, he’d go without trife. Happily give his princess what she wanted. You were not something to be conquered. To persuade. To overcome. You had become more to the Commander of the City Watch than he should have allowed on good conscience.

The magnetism that drew the two of you together finally coming to a head. Finally letting him press your back to the stone wall and seize his mouth to yours, his palms on your cheeks gentle when he felt the frenzy within his veins to swallow you whole.

To finally show you why he had dark circles rounding his eyes, sleep only finding him when your face was behind his eyelids—waking him in the late hours of the night in a hot sweat and a throbbing cock.

You held the reins of more than just dragons. Over Kings Landing. Over meek men who thought wrongly in thinking they deserved to breathe the same air as you, let alone ask to wed you.

“No,” you sigh. Pushing the heat between your legs along his thigh, the warmth burning through to his skin. Making his throat bob, “don’t stop, please.”

Harwin had no interest in making his princess beg. Plead.

He was here to serve you. To please you. To aid you in your own pleasure. To take honor in you letting him touch, taste, have you in this way like no other has before.

You held the reins over him; his lust, his desire, his affliction to simply be next to you. You had encompassed his mind, body and soul. And even the strongest of men cannot resist the bewitching of such a maiden with beauty and power.

You bring him to his knees like a wielded sword that he’s all too eager and willing to succumb to.

And as he moves down your trembling figure to his knees, pushing up your night dress, pulling your leg over his shoulder—his mouth moving along the inside of your thigh, teeth sinking in, your hips jutting, whimpers leaving your lips; he knows he holds those same reins over you.

That his affliction was yours.

That if he so desired he could have your front pressed to the stone and you’d let him take you with his cock right here. Fucking into your tight heat, palm over your mouth; you would beg then, plead for more.

A need appeased for the both of you.

He’d love nothing more.

A thought for next time. Right now, having you wither against his mouth as he runs a stripe up your wet folds, lips wrapping around that bud that has your fingers wrapping in his curls and tugging—is what his princess needs, what he needs.

The nightly images of you trembling below and against his broad frame, that flashed behind his eyes with his hand around his cock late at night, were mere delusions compared to the look of pleasure you were giving him each time your eyes looked down upon his.

Each time the tip of his tongue swirled around your clit, his grip on your thighs bruising, the deep grunt that vibrates through the halls each time he thinks of the marks he could be leaving on your skin to remember for later—the same mark you have left on his being.

He’d make the marks on your soft skin just as permanent, if you let him. If you allowed him between your legs again.

He would worship at his knees for the whole kingdom to see. Show his honor and devotion in the swipe of his tongue or the thrust of his cock, if it meant being beside you.

Having you. He'd beat down a million men, bloodied and hanging onto their lives the way your fingers are clinging to his shoulder, as your hips pump against his face.

“Ahh,” you gasp as he slips a thick finger in your tight heat. His finger twisting and pumping in time with his mouth against your folds, your clit, no part of your cunt going untouched by his tongue.

He wonders if this was your intention all along, when you slipped from your bed and down the desolate halls so late at night. Were you looking for him? The glint of happiness when you saw him round the corner was enough for him to have his mouth on you within seconds.

There’s a burning need in his gut to pull his mouth from your sex and press it against yours again, to feel those lips that tell the most beautiful tales, that speak his name like a lullaby—to silence you so you’re not caught; a death sentence that does little to put fear in him, but excitement instead.

When Harwin adds another finger it takes the restraint of a strong man not to pull you down onto him, to not plea to be inside those same walls that are gripping his fingers in a vice. Your moans growing louder as he fucks you with them with more vigor.

And when you finally come undone against his mouth, the way you gasp his name like you’re speaking to the Gods themselves, Harwin knows that he’s ours.

“Take me to bed,” his princess breathes against his mouth as he licks into yours, letting you taste your own sweetness.

“Yeah?” His grin is overzealous, hips grinding into your still throbbing heat, his leathers unable to conceal the thickness of his cock. Your eyes going wide at the lengthy drag of it against you, wariness in your eyes. His voice low against your lips, “it’ll fit, trust me princess. I have you. If you’re certain.”

Your nod is slow but sure. A kiss pressed to his wet mouth in certainty.

He will take your virtue and make it his own with the gentlest of licks from his mouth and strokes of his hips.

Never had he imagined himself to be a soft man. A man willing to go slow with the tide when an animalistic necessity of power went along with his given name.

But for his princess, softness is all he held.

There would come a time where heavy thrusts and rough fingers would be dug into your soft skin. But tonight the gentleness that came with savoring the moment is what you both needed.

[madwomansapologist]

Hello ! Could i have a the addams family where they are pinning over you , if that makes sence ?

Thank you , have a nice day!

Morticia and Gomez Addams being heels over head for you

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Library | More Gomez and Morticia Addams | AO3

synopsis: when it comes about passion, who's better than Morticia and Gomez Addams?

ps: thanks for your request my love! I was really sick last week, sorry making you wait. I think that this was what you were asking, if its not feel comfortable to request something else :)

• Your voice didn't stopped haunting them since they meet you. Your face was like a ghost, appearing whenever it would makes them the most weak. Your touch was cold on their skins like a corpse had find a way into their house. You we're like a witch who gets their soul with a love spell. They were enchanted by you

• You had their souls, so Morticia and Gomez make their goals to have yours. That is a game for three, you should know that before bewitching them

• Morticia would bring you to her garden. She would teach that Gomez has a rose allergy and would feel her heart going faster as you take a cissor and cut it yourself. Her goal was to know you, to spend time with you, but the way your hands move into the land — so gentle, so caring — was making hard for Morticia to not get distracted

• Gomez teach you how to duel. His chest would be against your back, holding your fingers to show you how to use the sword. Gomez did that not only to help you but also because he tought that this would make you shy, but he wasn't expecting to be the one who would get nervous. The smell of your hair, that sweet scent, make him forget his words, they way your skin was so soft against his: Gomez could live in this moment

• Morticia was surprised by how you make her lost her breath. She didn't have a smart thing to say because all she wanted to do was watch you. Gomez let you win. Anyone could say that he was only being nice to you, but Gomez just wanted to see your smile

• Morticia and Gomez knew: the last person that make them felt that way end up married. They want you. They need you. And they are not affraid of showing it. Being passionate was never a problem. And you deserve all the attencion they had

• Morticia and Gomez pay attention to every word you say. You would receive a present from them and realize that they remember your favorite color. You like a special school of art? Darling, prepare your walls because Gomez have news for you. Do you have troubles with something at your house? Morticia will help you even if you insist for her to stop

• They want you to understand what they feel for you and, more than that, to see them the same way they see you. Once you show signs that you may feel the same, darling, the actions will get bigger and the words will get louder

• Morticia would make you blush by calling you ma petitte. Her nails will drag down your skin everytime she gets the opportunity to walk past you. Morticia would show you how to use her lipstick, but don't be dumb and think she would only explain it: her hand will hold your chin in place while the red lipstick™ is against your soft lips

• Gomez's library is a place where you can usually be found. He would get you his favorite books and sometimes surprise you with the effect they can have. Mi pasiòn is something that don't leave his mouth when you are next to him. You haven't win another duel — yet, maybe — but the amount of fun you have is another level appart of everything you ever felt. If you ever stumble Gomez gonna hold you in his arms, against his warm body, and take you to a couch in a briddal style

• And don't get me started about how going out with both of them is. Only the best restaurants are open for you three. Gomez will cut the meet of your and Morticias plate. Morticia will make sure your glass is never empty. You see how her free hand is taking turns between Gomez's arm ir your pulse. Gomez leg touch yours, you may be not sure but you think it is proposital

• And the moment you got drunk by the love spell, they never, ever, going to make you regret that

• Morticia kiss you with the same hunger a vampire would. She does not taste you, she devour you. Morticia make you feel like your lips are make of the sweeter poison. You are the apple and she is Eve. Or maybe you are Eve and she is the devil making your head. You are sure that if Morticia was a sin you would go to hell with a smile

• Gomez does not have hurry to end what he start, he wants time to feel you. Your lips are made of nectar and all Gomez wants is to taste you. He don't touch you: he hold you. You are a delicate elixir, as precious as glass, and he would never let you felt less than that

• And feeling both of them is heaven. Is being truly and completely ready to die of happiness. Gomez's lips crossing your arm, Morticia teeths sinking on your neck, both of their hands finding a spot to hold you

• You are theirs, they were yours, and nothing would ever be more pleasurable than that. Not like you three aren't trying to find more and more and more pleasure together

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[acupofqueercoffee]

“Caught in a web, drunk on love”

Shutara Senjumaru x Reader

wc : 3100

cw : not really unrequited love // jealousy // misunderstandings // a sprinkle of drama // fluffy floofs

well what can i say. she’s so mommy and i’m a hoe for mommies so i couldn’t help it. always wanted to write something for her but i was just needing that little push which obviously her bankai gave me 😩

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Spider. A creature you have never been too big of a fan of. Those creepy crawlers with their beady eyes and fuzzy limbs are, and will always be the genesis of your nightmares. Simply the idea of the word will forever have dread burgeoning within you and ice cascading down your spine, or so you have believed. Why, then, are flowers blooming inside your chest as you watch the bane of your existence weaving a web? In other words, you are atrociously, irreversibly, positively, and utterly fucked.  

In the Soul King Palace, you are one of the less important guards under the direct command of one Shutara Senjumaru. Less important of course than the esteemed Royal Guards, but certainly on par with the strongest of shinigamis. Although there is no official title to it, your position beside your lady is an equivalent of a Lieutenant down in Seireitei.

Ever since the beginning, the divine general of the north, with her onyx hair and golden halo, eyes oozing with mesmerism, and lips a delightful red, but the most arresting of all, her spindly automatonic limbs sprouting from her back like six unworldly wings, has reminded you of a spider: one that is elegant and teeming with splendour. The lady’s introduction into your life has seeded in you a habit of conjuring up her face whenever you see or even think of your once-dreaded friends. In fact, when you think of an eight-legged crawler, you are rarely thinking of one and very much thinking of the six artificially limbed stunner. Hence, you are decisively fucked.

In pursuit of comfort, your hand, as if having a mind of its own, glide towards your waist where a knitted red charm dwells, the tassel of which dangles from the white sash of your uniform. Running delicate fingers along the intricate patterns of fine silk, your lips flourish into a smile.

From socks to scarfs and whatnots, your lady, the great weaver as her name suggests, has tailored many a thing for you. Not only has she remedied a great many holes in your battle worn uniforms, she has also graciously showered you with a miscellany of pristine garments. After all, artisanship is your lady’s forte, occurring as naturally as breathing to her, and her six hands are either sewing, knitting, embroidering or doing all three of it at the same time. She does it with such great finesse and dexterity that she may as well be carving a statue of herself out of your heart, for it worships the very ground she walks on. 

When you notice her presence, you smell it before you hear it. Delightfully floral with a touch of dark undertones, heavenly, mysterious and so undoubtedly her. 

“It was my understanding that you have a strong dislike for them, no?”

Comes the mesmerising lilt of her voice, glazed with a trickle of tease, and you smile a little, knowing smile, bringing your gaze from the spider to its human counterpart.

“I’ve steadily started finding them charming I’m afraid.” The little blossom of a smile on your lips once you search her eyes is that of softness. Your lady regards you coolly with a barely noticeable smile, drenched in enigma by her siren-eyed gaze, the caress of which is well-nigh tangible on your face. It does a quick travel to your waist, and upon finding the gift that you carry on your body since acquiring it, a hum spills forth a pair of bewitching, blood-red lips. 

“Walk with me.”

You take the hand that she offers, smooth, spindly and rather ample in size that you are only truly able to grasp two of her lithe digits. 

“With pleasure, my lady.”

“Am I allowed to wonder what exactly is the architect of your change in impression of arachnid? You of yore would flee the site if she so much as catches a glimpse of an itsy-bitsy one, I’m sure.”

You love that she remembers things about you the way you do things about her. She fancies her tea with a drizzle of honey. Not unlike a spider, she does have eight arms, the two of which are of her own flesh and blood, and because she keeps them hidden under her cloak at all times, only a handful of people have witnessed them. You have, during a visit to the hot spring in Kirinden. Nobody has given her a gift personally hand crafted by them, so when you have made for her a braided charm, a very clumsy attempt at that, she has told you that she would cherish it, and cherish it, she does. Despite it being faulty, it has found its forever home tucked safely in the red sash of her outfit, the tassel of it peeking out from under her haori with every elegant step she takes. Playful banter is her favourite pastime and it amuses her greatly that you indulge her. So once again, you do.

“You have every liberty to wonder, my lady. The decision to answer lies in my hand after all. I will say this though, it’s who rather than what.”

“My,” So she drawls in a tone that deliciously tickles your spine, and when she stops, you do too, watching as lips reveal teeth in a kittenish smile. “is that so?”

You have an inkling that to an extent, she knows of your fondness for her, evident in the way she humors you. Judging from her behaviors, she does not appear entirely opposed to it, and you might even go as far as saying that there is a good chance of her considering you should you confess.

Suddenly, a droplet touches your cheek. In the small interval of time that it takes for you to look up, your lady has expertly woven an umbrella out of thin air, all the while her one hand holds onto yours. By the time a drizzle escalates to a downpour, you are well under the protection of your lady’s masterful craft. However, your heart is going haywire, for the space between the two of you has considerably narrowed when your eyes meet. Leaning forward, a cool pad of a thumb presses a delicate kiss onto your cheek, caressing the wetness away from your face which inadvertently leaves a pink tinge in its wake. 

“Let’s call it a day, shall we?”

At your nod of approval, she adjusts her hold on you, slipping her fingers just so that your hands are intertwined together. The tips of her robotic digits easily reach your wrist, and when the cool pad of her thumb gingerly traces the hummingbird flutter of your pulse, the little creature coos inside your ribcage.

Roses are red.

The sky is blue.

And oh how you love Senjumaru. 

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“Yoohoo Shutara, look who I found dilly-dallying around!” 

The guffaw of Hikifune jolts Senjumaru out of her bath induced reverie. Her head tilts, propped up by her fist, the dark waterfall of her hair swaying slightly as her eyes lazily search her friend.  

Think of the devil and the devil is here. 

A ghost of a smile graces her lips, for she finds you tucked under the arm of the ruler of grain. It has been a while after all since the two of you have spent time together. 

“Can you please unhand me?” More laughter ensues, louder this time, and your request is effectively nipped in the bud. Ruffling your hair, she tugs you closer to the point that you are smothered by her generous bosoms. 

“Lady Hikifune, you- you’re-”

Killing me with your breasts! You wanted to say, but instead, you are left a sputtering mess.

“My my, haven’t you bagged yourself a cutie, Shutara!”

Granted, Senjumaru would find the sweet strawberry shade on your cheeks ridiculously charming, that is, if it had been a product of her doing. Certainly not after you have just been called a cutie by a woman who has her breasts shoved into your face. 

And so, she rises with all the grace of a nymph, droplets on her body twinkling like little diamonds in the soft light. 

“Why Kirio, I thank you on behalf of my girl for escorting her to me,” Meanwhile, she has effortlessly drawn you into her arms, one of which is slithering across your waist. Alas, the little wasp has been caught in a spider’s web. “but if I do recall, you have matters to attend to, have you not? By all means, do not let us hinder you.” 

“Ugh now my mood is spoiled, thank you very much Shutara.” The divine general of the south’s voice drips with sarcasm, and that of the north replies just as sarcastically. “Of course.” 

“On another note, I smell ya later cutie!”

With a wink thrown towards your way, the cheery general is gone. 

“Wild woman.” Murmurs Senjumaru as two fingers pinch the bridge of her nose. 

You on the other hand, through the flimsy fabric of your robe, can feel her body pressing into your back; all the ridges and the valleys, every dip and dent, and lord is she so wonderfully soft. 

Suddenly, along with a ghost of a breath on the shell of your ear, her voice greets you. “Hello there, my girl.” Like a dollop of butter on a pile of warm, fluffy pancakes, you melt, all giddy and toasty inside. “Now that you’re here, could I trouble you to give my hair a wash?” 

“It’s no trouble at all. I’d be delighted to.” You do not dare turn lest your legs fail you, and in a desperate need of a moment of reprieve for your sorry little heart, you chance a glance at her. “Why don’t you go relax in the water, my lady. I’ll be right with you.”

There is a beat of silence before you feel hands on your hips and a delicate touch of lips on your nape.

“Do not keep me waiting for too long.”

The milkiness of her skin practically glows in the warm water while her luscious mane, like the finest of silks, effortlessly slips through your fingers. The urge to bury your nose in her silky smooth strands is strong, but not as strong as the urge to nuzzle your face in the exquisite beauty of a neck that is captivating you from beneath those onyx mane. Lost in a daydream, you do not realise that you have paused amidst your task until your lady turns towards you. Without so much as a warning, she pulls you into the pool. The sorry excuse of a cloth on your body gives way to water, and you mirror your lady in that you are now thoroughly soaked and bare. 

Her gaze roams, and you notice the exact moment that the warm mischievous glint in her eyes goes glacial. She has seen your body, or rather the marks peppered across your neck and chest in varying shades of red. Her face is unreadable, the very picture of aloofness, and although it stings, although it seems as if a chasm has suddenly appeared between the two of you, you try to bridge it, take a step, an olive branch of sorts. It is your darkest nightmare comes true however when she avoids the hand that reaches for her, a look of, dare you say, disgust etched onto her face, and without so much as a word, she takes leave.

What have you done wrong, you do not understand.

All you know is that you feel discarded as though you are but a stale meal.

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To have been branded by this enchantress of a woman and afterwards carry the very traces of herself on your body, even with a good chance that she will no longer have any recollection of your little moment together, has filled you with bliss as much as having her mouth on your flesh did. 

Although her mien has betrayed nothing and she was the very picture of poise, you knew she was drunk as soon as endearments fell freely from her lips. “My darling sweetheart” so she has called you, and you have been too naive, too lovesick to believe that, albeit being under the influence of liquor, she has peppered you with kisses while thinking of you, while still being aware that it was on your body that she was leaving her traces. Alas, it has never crossed your mind that you would turn out to be a cheap substitute for the one she truly desires.

“Oi oi Lady Senjumaru has brought a girl to her palace.” 

When you have heard such murmurs amongst the guards, as selfish as it is, you were hoping it to be a falsehood.

Your little glimmer of a hope is crushed into smithereens once you are summoned to her chambers only to have your heart join the pile of dust on the ground. Nestled in your lady’s arms like a baby bird, a naked girl mewls and trembles whilst red lips leave messy kisses along her jaw and down the length of her neck.

The spider is making a show of devouring its prey, but instead of fear, you fall victim to pain, oh wretched, unforgiving pain. She is being deliberately cruel because ultimately, you are an audience to this play only due to her invitation.

“My darling little sweetheart.” And you watch, drenched in melancholy, as your lady savours the lips of someone who is not you.

Oh. 

“You.” Comes the voice, indifferent unlike the loving coo that was just uttered to the girl cradled close to her chest. “I want you to tidy up my place while I take my darling home.”

Oh. 

A nod, or rather, a bow is all you can manage so as not to bare your features that is now marred with an endless cascade of tears.

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Peeved would be a horrible understatement. It does not bode well with Senjumaru that while you were all she could think about, you had been cosying up to another, who, for all she knows, could have been one of her friends. Judging from the little display the other day, it could very well have been Kirio. How laughable she must have appeared, being all overly defensive for naught. 

She admits however that she was unnecessarily cruel with her reaction, and that her little act of revenge was childish at best. Essentially, she has only herself to blame, misinterpreting your innocent admiration for her to be something else, something sacred. And now, with that calloused display of hers, she might have even ruined the bond that the two of you have shared. 

No matter how she reasons with herself, it still perturbs her after all, and once again, something ugly rears its head when she finds more of those lingering hickeys on your body while she crosses paths with you in Kirinden. 

Good and evil play a tug of war, and evil emerges victorious.

“Back from another fun, I presume?”

“Why do you care?”

“My, what gives you the impression that I do? I’m merely curious which one of my comrades’ bed one of my guards is diligently warming every night.”

“Curiosity kills the cat, Lady Senjumaru.”

Rising out of the pool like a predator on a hunt, she corners her prey. Whereas her spindly arms manipulate you so that you are facing away from her and then, trap you against the wall, her two hands find home in the dip of your hips, pulling you until your back fits into the curve of her body.

“And oh does it pounce!” Growls the hunter as lips find your nape, teeth bestowing bruises and tongue soothing stings, all the while you shake like a leaf in her bodily confine.

Her hands wander over to your ribcage, holding you there, thumbing the soft underside of your breasts. It has your back curving into her body.

“Swift work is my biggest selling point, you understand. Do not underestimate the name of Senjumaru.” The sinking of her teeth directly into the throbbing vein on your neck triggers your fingers to dig into the flesh of her thigh. “Shu- ngh- Shutara.”

Senjumaru remembers a dream, an all too tantalising dream. In it, her charming little prey was deliciously caught in her web, and the great weaver has taken her sweet time savouring the delectable creature. What a divine little thing her prey was, squirming in her grasp and panting her name, ambrosia to her ears, while her mouth has mapped as many inches of skin as she could manage, committing everything to memory. It stays with her even when dawn breaks, except that, the dream she had was all but a dream, eluded Senjumaru. 

Amidst her arm twining round your chest, she hears it, a broken little sound that is but a tiny whisper. 

“Why are you doing this to me?”

The lady turns you in her arms. With gentle fingers, she tucks a few wayward strands behind your ears to reveal more of her colourful works, which she gingerly traces with a delicate digit. 

“These were my doing.” It is not a query, merely a statement.

“I understand that you have mistaken me for someone else.” You release a sigh, eyes slipping shut when a thumb presses onto a particularly sore spot. “So please, just let me be.”

“Is that what you want of me? To let you be?”

“What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” Your attempt to flee from her gaze is effectively put to an end by a hand cradling your jaw. Mindlessly, a thumb bestows soft caresses to the apple of your cheek. “Answer me.”

“It just doesn’t, alright? Because I’m not- I’m not what you want.” When you look into her eyes, she finds in yours the first dew of tears, and before they could escalate into a cloudburst, she pulls you into her six-armed embrace, your face safely tucked into the nook of her neck. Along with a soft lingering press of a kiss atop your temple, she breathes her words into your skin. “Though I have a penchant for darning, it seems I’m superb at tearing the one thing I want perfectly weaved.”

“I hate you, my lady.” By the way your hands are fisting into her flesh as though your life depends on it, she begs to differ, though she only indulges you, a ghost of a smile hanging loosely on her lips. “Do you now?”

“Very much so. I hate that I love you.”

“Oh, but my dearest, how I love that you love me.”

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[heart-forge]

do you have beef with any if devs?

H'm I started answering this but I can't tell if it's bait or just curiosity so in case it's bait then the answer is yes and here are all the wonderful IF developers who can go kick rocks:

@extempore-the-game Amy makes Extempore and how rude of her to make me? Choose? She tries to make it up to me by letting me being a journalist who has operated as an undercover wrestler which has given me incredible fighting skill, but the damage has already been done 😔😔

@ataleofcrowns, Cherry who makes a Tale of Crowns and just makes the hell out of it. I usually avoid the charming rogue romances because they all feel very samey to me and then X came and hit me with a goddamn train, which wasn't very period-accurate where did they even get a train to hit and kill me with.

@fiddles-ifs, Fiddles who makes Greenwarden, and who can describe the inside of a human body so vividly that it makes you go 🤔🤔 wondering what he's seen. In addition, wrote me a Big LI for me to fall in love with, and I did. Hook line and sinker.

@llamagirl28, who writes The Bastard of Camelot and what can I say except that she has cruelly manipulated how much I like Arthurian legend and with a sniper's precision hit upon my love for cold ROs who you have to win over and done a super dynamic integration of NB identity in what might have come off as an idiosyncratic setting (if I was the type of person who cared about that kind of thing).

@maneki-mushi who made The Hero's Journey and is making Saint Ceri, both of which I love and also those here who may be below eighteen, one day you'll be old enough to play them but today is not this day !! Both are incredible and I loved playing through Hero's Journey for the exploration of memory and how interesting it is to be a player who actively does good things (or tries to) and yet remembers evil !! It's interesting and fun and I love my "evil" boyfriend and the one that was less of an asshole than I ended up being sdjkhfds.

@anya-dev I haven't seen her around lately but I still love Scout even if it only ever exists in its current state. Even in it's current state, Oliver has bewitched me, body and soul.

@moiraimyths who makes The Good People, which again strangleholds my love for period settings and especially my love of Seelie/Unseelie beef. As when I was young, I saw a hot guy on the Unseelie side and that was that 😔

@argentgames who make the Red Embrace games that. Literally when it launched it was all I could talk about, and it got me to play the game that everyone said was comparable, Vampire: the Masquerade....and I liked this one much better 😅😅

I've almost definitely forgetting many people but I've been neglecting my reading about hotties duties in favour of being a bloke who does fuck all, but uh, abruptly remembering the bit, yes I am....soooo.....angry at these authors.......forrr........making me feel a lot of things 😳🥺

[lady-o-ren]

FROM THE EDGE OF THE BLACK SEA

After a deadly confrontation with the Laird and Warchief of Clan Mackenzie, the last son of Lallybroch goes on a frantic search for his one true love, praying he isn't too late . . .

//

Jamie's found his runaway heart in the ruins of an old abbey by the sea.

He swings his long leg from off his great stallion's back and crosses what's left of the crumbling stone archway to the back where the wall of the abbey has collapsed.

Claire sits there amongst the rubble and weeds with her knees pulled up to her chest, transfixed by the rhythmic rise and fall of the black ocean waves. Was she longing for them to sweep her away?

Jamie couldn't bear the thought of losing her, even as guilt gnawed away at his guts for being the one to have selfishly brought her to this savage place.

For failing to keep her safe.

He can see the bruises on her neck with the lifting of her long dark curls by the cold misty wind and can only imagine what other marks hide beneath her cloak and crumpled dress, making his blood burn black with rage.

As if she's heard the mad thrashing of his heart, Claire looks over her shoulder and her eyes that could bewitch a man into giving up his soul widen in a burst of golden surprise.

"You idiot!" She cries to Jamie's horror. "You damned stupid fool!"

Seizing a rock, Claire hurls it at his head, followed by another and another after that. She then attempts to run when Jamie makes a move to grab her and becomes trapped against his chest.

"Let go of me!" She shouts, jerking violently in his arms wrapped ironclad around her.

"Sassenach! Claire! I'm not here to hurt ye!"

"Let go of me, damn you! Let go!"

The desperation in her voice tears at Jamie's very soul making his arms drop like lead at his sides.

Claire stumbles forward but doesn't run off like he feared she would. Instead she turns to face him, glaring fiercely, with her breath coming out in hurried white puffs around her flushed and freckled cheeks.

"Why did you follow me?" She demands.

"Why the hell did ye leave the castle wi'out telling me? Surely ye must've kent I'd search night and day for ye," Jamie fires back, shuddering with frustration and exhaustion from his tireless pursuit of her.

"It doesn't matter why. You weren't supposed to follow me anyhow." She waves her hand to the trees beyond them that blanket the hills. "Now Dougal will send the entire clan after us thinking you've betrayed him. "

"He won't. I made sure of that," says Jamie, voice cold and unrepentant as the tide crashing against the cliff side, eyeing her bruised throat.

Claire clasps her hand to it.

The same one she slashed Dougal's face and bare chest with in the shadows of her bedchamber, drawing blood that she can still taste like poison on her lips.

"You didn't have to - he didn't -"

Blood rushes to Jamie's face, furious as a thundercloud.

"I did what needed to be done to protect ye, Claire. "

"Jamie, that's all you've ever done for me. That's why I didn't tell you about Dougal. I didn't want to put you in danger."

"You think I care about myself? He hurt ye dammit!"

Jamie slams his fist against a standing stone.

"The one I've waited all my life for. Who holds the whole of my heart . . ." He takes a step closer, voice low and thick with passion. "The one I love."

Claire takes a step back, not daring to believe. Her voice a quivering whisper.

"You can't mean that."

Jamie fixes her with a searing blue gaze and says -

"Have I ever lied to ye?"

The tears come hot and fast down Claire's cheeks and Jamie does his best to thumb them away, lifting her face that's ethereal as a star in his big hands. Oh, how lovely she is.

"Since when?" She murmurs tearily. "How long?"

"From the moment I gave ye the breath of my body while you struggled for air on the shore, when ye weeped in my arms for what was lost to ye that first night at Leoch, my heart and soul have belonged to you. Even in death when I'm nothing more than dust in the wind and far beyond the hereafter, my love for you will never waver." He rests his brow against hers, bowed as if in prayer. "This I promise you wi' all that I am. Will you have me?"

Claire reluctantly pulls away and looks up at his face beaming with devotion she's never known, could never dream of, hands grasping at his chest.

"More than anything I want to say yes -"

"Then say yes!" Jamie sings, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth as he says so, clutching her waist to his.

"But the clan -" Claire pleads, cupping his stubbled cheek, forcing him to meet her gaze. "They'll kill you because of me."

Jamie lays his hand on her wrist, feeling her pulse throbbing hard against his palm and squeezes it.

"My uncle had many enemies and a great many of them are drinking to his death right now not knowing who gave their laird the final blow nor caring. And as for us," a shy and hopeful smile illuminates his face that gives Claire's heart an ache so sweet. "They'll think we've eloped just like my mother and father did. That damned fool James Fraser, they'll say, bewitched by his silkie bride."

And then there's no longer a need for words or even air as Claire once more takes Jamie's breath away, this time with a joyful, heavenly kiss.

//

Backstory: Jamie finds Claire on a rocky shoreline thinking she's a dead seal. But when the seal starts to move he thinks there's a pup trapped inside. He slashes the belly open and out comes Claire. Bloodied. White as bone. And her first gasp of human life leaves her choking and breathless hence Jamie giving her the breath of his body so that she may live.

Also I couldn't think of a better name for this drabble nonsense so I went with the first thing that popped into my head. The song by The Cure - The edge of the deep green sea. That song has a totally different vibe than what's conveyed here but damn what a great song.

Forgive the stupidity of the drabble pls

[jiniwae]

According to LoreMaster (the person on the Just dance team who answers the lore of some dances) Chitsuki (Kill Bill) possessed Michiya (Zenit) to purify his soul. Night Swan probably learned from Chitsuki how to have coaches

I really like the lore in general, so when I saw the story of 24 I was very happy, but at the same time with a feeling of trepidation And honestly, I hope the ending is a season, I don't want to wait a whole year to see how it ends -

WE ALL KNOW THAT DISCOBALL IS THE MONITOR NANNY THAT TRAVELLER MADE TO MONITOR WANDERLUST, AND AT THE END OF CANNED HEAT NIGHT SWAN TAKES CONTROL OF DISCOBALL AND STARTED MONITORING THE OTHER JUST DANCERS

I think that in Just Dance 2025, Jack Rose will somehow try to contact Wanderlust's father (since Traveler can travel through the Danceverse) to warn him of what happened to his son and they will both go after the mother of Wanderlust and a few other Just dancers.

I still think that if wanderlust's parents stay together for too long their power could collapse the danceverse they are in (which didn't even almost happen in save your tears)

I literally couldn't sleep with this hook that Ubisoft made in JD2024. I imagine that in JD2025, Jack Rose will actually be able to find someone to help him save everyone. But here come two of my theories: Either the story ends in JD2025, or Ubisoft makes another cliffhanger in JD2025, continuing the end of the story only in JD2026. That's what I say

I had understood from the director's interview with Dina that she tore up the poster at the beginning because only she and Nightswan have the ability to use flow, but Nightswan decided to use this for evil, which disappointed Mihaly, implying For me too, in the past they were united in some way

I think that Night Swan was actually famous in the Danceverse, and that's why Jack rose there has this desire to be famous, because his mother inspired him by being

famous

I have to say the betas Sweet Dreams and Lose Yourself that were removed would have gone well with the lore

PARALLELS BETWEEN SWAN LAKE AND JUST DANCE 2024

-Usually, Odette (white swan) and Odille (black swan) are played by the same dancer. Sara and Night Swan are played by the same dancer

-The wizard Rothbart bewitched Odette to become a swan. In you should see me in a crown, Night Swan bewitched Sara to become evil

-It might just be a coincidence, but Sara has four letters and starts with "S" (swan)

-Sara in Hebrew means "lady, princess, noble woman". Odette is a princess

-Odille pretended to be Odette to deceive Prince Siegfried and get his hand in marriage. In Canned Heat, Night Swan pretended to be Sara to trick Wanderlust (who also has the title of prince) and steal the Discoball.

DEPENDING ON THE VERSION, SWAN LAKE HAS DIFFERENT ENDINGS (from the saddest to the happiest):

Ending 1-Siegfried dies trying to defeat Rothbart and Odette remains with the swan curse forever

Ending 2-Odette and Siegfried drown together, their souls are freed from the curse and they can finally be together in the afterlife

Ending 3-Siegfried defeats Rothbart, Odette has her curse broken and they get married

Which ending do you think you will choose for Just Dance 2025?

I would choose 3, the happiest ending. Night Swan defeated once and for all, the Danceverses at peace, and Wanderlust abdicating his responsibilities as the

"Chosen" to live happily on Earth with Sara.

So, I think a song that would go super well with some music for 25's lore would be 'Swan Song' by Dua Lipa, it would be awesome

Yesssss! This song is an anthem, one that Ubisoft could use. I imagine it as being a new solo map for Siha Nova, sad and horrified by what happened with Wanderlust but little by little finding the courage to face her own son and break Night Swan's spell over him.

I still can't believe that the rock your body coach brutalized the levitation coach and left

Went to get a cigarette and disappeared lol

Next year the story should start with lose yourself and after this song he tries to recruit more people in eternyx even maybe

 think that in jd25 the first two songs will show that jack rose became a drug dealer lol with lose yourself and the next one (or even before lose yourself) is sweet dreams showing the past of night swan and the next ones I don't know

which is also part of the story, but this song is the beginning of the future, so I don't know if it will be in the continuation of the next game or if it is part of this one, because there are also 2 more songs from the lore

I saw a theory that says that in Just Dance 2025, Jack Rose will save the other coaches with the help of The Traveler (Rock Your Body) and Si'Ha Nova (Levitating). Or maybe with a new coach maybe Jack's father

speaking of which, another theory is that Jack Rose's father is Crimson (Sail).

-They both have red hair

-They have similar dance moves (Jack may have learned from his father)

-Probably he and Night Swan had a very troubled relationship and they separated....

I have a theory that's a little heavy but it's valid, at the beginning of sail Crimson wakes up tied to the ground and following this theory maybe the night swan trapped him in the boat and also towards the end of Sail the boat starts to pick up and he wasn't the one who put it since he was dancing so maybe the night swan wanted to kill her own

what happened to Night Swan trying to kill her own husband?

I think it's because Crimson and Night Swan had different dreams and goals and he didn't agree with her plans to dominate the

Danceverses and create a perfect universe

What I think could happen: Jack Rose finds three more powerful coaches to defeat Night Swan

I've seen two theories:

-The Traveler (Rock Your Body) and Si'Ha Nova (Levitating) will help Jack

-Jack will have the help of his father (probably Crimson de Sail, but it has not been confirmed until now who his father is)

I think Wonderley's father will come back The way Ubi likes to recycle, they will probably come back

[rpmemes-galore]

pride and prejudice ... sentence starters

“May I have the next dance?”

“But will that make you happy?“

“He looks miserable, poor soul.“

“No, they are far too easy to judge.“

“You really do love him, don't you?”

“What endearments am I allowed?”

“Why do you ask such a question?“

“Angry people are not always wise.“

“Are you... are you laughing at me?”

“How are you this evening, my dear?“

“You are too generous to trifle with me.“

“Not all of us can afford to be romantic.”

“I thought that poetry was the food of love.“

“And... what should I call you when I am cross?“

“I have never been thus treated in my entire life!”

“So don't you judge me... Don't you dare judge me!”

“Because we're doing our best to find a fault in you.“

“I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.“

“So what do you recommend to encourage affection?“

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.“

“Miserable he may be, but poor he most certainly is not.“

“Forgive me, madam, for taking up so much of your time.“

“You must know... surely, you must know it was all for you.“

“Are you out of your senses? I thought you hated the man.”

“I didn't know you were coming to see me! What's the matter?”

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love you.”

“It has taught me to hope as I'd scarcely allowed myself before.”

“So this is your opinion of me? Thank you for explaining so fully.“

“I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine.”

“Have you no objection other than your belief in my indifference?“

“You can only have two motives, and I would interfere with either.”

“Might I ask why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed?“

“Perfectly tolerable, I daresay, but not handsome enough to tempt me.“

“Oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.“

“Our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask him nothing about it.“

“I love you. Most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.“

“How can you tease me so? Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?”

“First, I must tell you I've been the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass.“

“It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.“

“Oh, dear, I cannot tease you about that. What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh.“

“I... do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.“

“You have insulted me in every possible way, and can now have nothing further to say.“

“Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why I will end up an old maid.“

“I am well enough acquainted with you to know that I can not alarm you, even should I wish it.”

“My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.“

“I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment.“

“Perhaps these offences might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty.“

“I'm sure that the feelings which, as you've told me have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it.“

“I cannot believe that anyone can deserve you... but it appears I am overruled. So, I heartily give my consent.”

“I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done.“

“I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment.“

“If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love...I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

“I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Any thoughts you’d like to share on the other origins characters? Anything you like about them :)

Again, haven't played the game so these are my general thoughts based on a few romance compilations, YouTube Shorts, and memes. If anybody would like to rectify this, please Venmo me $500 so I can buy a PS5.

Shadowheart

Admittedly don't know that much about her other than the emos love her and she follows a goddess of loss. Looks like her arc is all about questioning institutions and her god, which I think is very sexy of her. If anybody has a quest line compilation video to recommend so I can see her whole story, please send it my way.

Lae'zel

The other origin character I admittedly don't know that much about. Still love an arc about questioning the system she was raised in and her god. Again, very sexy of her. Fish out of water stories are some of my favorites. Pair that with a hardened character learning to enjoy the gentler things in the world, and you've got yourself a banger. I should really look up her quest line at some point to get a full view of it.

Karlach

Best girl. Strong muscles, soft heart. I want her to be my best friend IRL. She deserves better and if there is any way to get a better ending that allows her to stay in Faerun, the studio needs to get on that ASAP. In the meantime, I'm going to stay in the part of the internet that says she's fine don't worry about it. I'm hugging her and there is nothing you can do about it.

Wyll

Sweet boy. A perfect boy who did nothing wrong ever. Yeah, yeah, sold his soul to a devil, but he had a good reason. Plus, he was seventeen. Nobody should let a seventeen year old make any decisions ever. I do need to find a good romance compilation. He needs more love. His friendship with Karlach is everything to me.

Gale

People really need to stop complaining about this man. I see too many being ragging on about how he's not over his ex and keeps bringing her up. "With you I forget my goddess?" That isn't him saying with you he forgets his ex, he's saying with you he forgets his god. How are we all not collectively swooning? And he's a nerd who will info dump about his passions? Sign me the fuck up. His comfy pjs and burnt out gifted kid swagger has bewitched me body and soul.

Astarion

Guys, you've seen my blog. I'm obsessed with him.

The moment I saw this asshole pop up on my dash, I knew I was going to love him. He was the reason I decided to finally look up a romance compilation once I realized my computer was too old to let me run the game. He's my type to the point of parody. Literally anybody who knows me, knows this guy would end up being my favorite.

His arc is about bodily autonomy and trauma. He's allowed to not be the perfect victim. He's angry and violent. He's selfish and terrified. And he is, sadly, one of the few characters who, as part of his arc, realizes he can say no to sex and he can be loved without it.

My point is, it should be no surprise to anybody that the ace community loves this man, and anybody complaining about it should shut up.

If you want to write your sexy Astarion fanfic, there is nothing stopping you. More power to you. I've seen the graveyard scene too. I recognize that regaining his autonomy and being able to have sex with somebody he cares about is part of the healing process.

At the same time, if writers want to interpret his arc is him realizing he never wants to have sex again, and that being okay; let them. We need this. There are so few characters like him out there.

At some point I do want to write an hour long video essay about his arc and how it's resonated with the ace community specifically.

Anyway, those are my general thoughts. I feel like I just swung a bat at a hornet's nest with that last bit, but what's life without a little danger?

[gotpineapple]

Sometimes an old man wonders Otto Hightower x Reader

 Summary: Otto is a little insecure about his age but his loving wife disagrees with his thought process

Warnings: Talk of infertility, implication of sex

This is pure Fluff

Y/n Hightower was young. Young enough to be Otto’s daughter. In fact she was only two years his daughters senior.

She was his second wife. By the gods he had loved his first wife, loved her with all his being. But now after two years with his new wife, he felt shy. They were intimate as any married couple, hell their marriage most likely shared more intimacy than most in Westeros.

 Septa’s had talked of her being an ill choice as wife due to her unnaturally painful monthly bleeding. The rumours of her body not being suited for childbearing had made a uncertain hole in her heart and future.

And that is how her father had come knocking at Otto’s door, so she could at least get a gentle husband.

 Otto felt humiliated by his own emotions. He was an old man with grandchildren, blushing as he thought of how he had come to care for his young wife.

 She was a curious soul, the lady Hightower. She sought answers to all the little details of the world, she read and read till her temples ached with all she had discovered. And by the god’s did she love animals.

 Otto did not know what had bewitched him to let her adopt a stray kitten from the streets or take in that small hurt bird they had seen in the garden in the reach. Now they had a black kitten called Sooty and a small bird (Otto was sure Y/n just didn’t know what the bird was when she insisted that it was a bushtit) called Pearl.

 That curiosity in her had bewitched him. Her never ending curiosity and capability to observe the world while looking for every possibility.

 Now he sat at his desk and wondered: What can an old man like him give such a woman? At some point, he would be grey and frail and her smiles would not have the same glint of adoration they now had.

 ”What ails you my husband?”, a gentle voice startled him as now in front of him stood his lady wife. Slowly she walks over to his desk and lays her hands on his shoulders.

 ”Hello, dear”, he answers shortly and lays his own hand on top of one of hers. Y/n furrows her brows at him dodging her question and his curt answer.

 Sighing softly she start kneading his tense shoulders. Otto closes his eyes and relaxes under the gentle treatment letting his hand fall to his side.

”Now will my husband tilt his chin and let his lady wife give him a small loving kiss?”, she inquires after ten minutes of silence and her working on his shoulders.

 Otto leans back and tilts his head so that she can bend down to kiss him. The kiss is gentle and lingering. Pulling away Y/n pulls on his chair. ”Scoot”

 ”What?”

 ”Scoot back so I can have a seat”, she repeats and steps back from trying to pull on his chair. Otto lets out a chuckle at the stuborness of his Y/n. His beacon of light.

 When he does as he is told, his lap is soon occupied with a smiling being. Who had given him the right to have her, must have been a lunatic. Such treasure wasted.

 ”You are sad”, Y/n whispers her own eyes wide and tender as she cups Otto’s cheek. ”Will you not tell me why?”, she continues her own worry rising by the minute.

 ”Sometimes an old man wonders”, he begins as he looks down and takes her free hand into one of his own. Her delicate skin in his rough hands.

 ”Yes?”, Y/n encourages now having a feeling of what this moment of vulnerability was about.

 ”You are wasted on an old man. Soon as the years go, you will still be young and vigorous while I’ll be a grey hollow tree trunk rottening on my feet”, he says with quiet anger. His own limits angering him.

 What he doesn’t expect are Y/n’s glassy eyes staring at him as he turns his gaze back up. ”Oh my dear”, he goes to soothe and raise his own hand to cup her face but she swats his hands away making him furrow his brows.

 ”Do not ever let yourself wonder such things again”, she begins, ”I am not a perfect creature. I cannot give you a son. I will never bear my own child, Otto. But you resent me naught for that. You are a fair bit older than me but you make me feel indescribable things”, her voice gets shaky as she continues.

 ”Even if you turn grey and frail tomorrow, I would not leave you. Don’t you realize it? I am so happy and vigorous because I know I have you. My husband, my tender and wise husband holding me close every night. There is nothing you cannot give me because your heart is my treasure”, she sobs as she presses their foreheads together.

 Otto feels his own eyes getting glassy as he lets a loving smile graze at his features. ”I love you, my beacon”, whispers and lays quick soft kisses onto her lips.

 ”And I love you my tower”, she whispers back a wet wide smile coming to her face, the words never ceasing to light joy in her heart. ”Remember, my tower. I am the light that shines in your halls but I will not shine anywhere without my tower protecting my light”

 Otto hums at her poetic words content with sitting like this. Forehead against hers, and his hand tenderly on her breast to feel the beat of her heart. It is when Y/n bites at her lip and a flush spreads to her chest that he knows what his touch is awakening.

 ”What ails you wife?”, he smirks as he looks at her hooded eyes and feels her heart picking speed.

 Y/n doesn’t dare to look at him even though her smile is still lighting up her whole face. Her soft hand comes to press his hand tighter at her breast. ”M-make love to me, my husband. Have me so that I can feel your touches for days”, her words are bold but her voice is timid.

 Otto smiles at his wife's innocence and gives her a passionate kiss. ”Go wait for me in our bed. I will finish this and then you can have me for the rest of the night”, he promises and gently helps up from his lap.

 With a soft gaze and a gentle pat to her bottom, she makes her way to heir bed, with a floating skip under her step.

This is a one shot but I have a multipart Otto story coming soon :) 

[mightymizora]

oh hey! actually i was very curious - i never played bg3 in early access, and i heard wyll changed a lot? i have many thoughts about him, but also he ended up with... the least cutscenes and dialogue of any companion by far, despite theoretically having a huge connection to the main plot. it's hard to figure out whether there was an actual issue with the original writing, or if it was just racism that made people dislike the early version so strongly, RIP. what was he like in there?

- the gale thoughts anon <]:)

Hello anon. I was going to answer this with links etc but I have no idea when I’m going to be on desktop. So, with apologies that this is a bit scatty and off the hoof.

Starting with the obvious (or maybe the thing I need to make obvious!) that I’m not a Black fan, I don’t speak from that experience and you should seek out the writings of fans who really know what they’re talking about around fandom racism, which is a real fucking problem.

And! With the caveat that I cannot be totally objective about this because I LOVED early access Wyll in an EMOTIONAL way. I loved Lanre’s performance, I was bewitched body and soul by this silly man. I still think of him. I loved that boy! But!

I kind of think it’s a bit of both. Which I know will sound like a cop out.

I was disappointed in the fan reaction that Wyll was boring. It felt very off to me as his story was rich with potential. He was a charming, swashbuckling folk hero who wanted to be the hero SO BAD. A guy who wants to be a hero so much, but is also so bad at it! When you went to the fire, everybody was like oh fucking hell, not this idiot. Not Nepo-baby Wyll who flunked out of the Fist despite being a descendant of Eltan himself (I loved this moment, it was a real reveal of ohhh, he’s not what he thinks his is or says he is.) Who is humiliated by goblins as a young man and in a moment of weakness, signs a pact that changes his life? Who uses it to do good things, but is still a little immature, a little too passionate, and can still have that shade of a man who cares a little too much about heroics, instead of what it truly means to be good? It was JUICY! Not to even mention his malapropisms, his attempts to be seductive and being so silly. Man, he was so soft and fun but with this real core of anger that he didn’t know what to do with, a man of passions who made a mistake he didn’t know how to deal with.

So yeah. I do think that it was influenced by the fact he was a Black character and they didn’t bother to try to play with him.

However, I also see why they rewrote him. In the original drafts, Wyll’s relationship with Mizora was coded a bit more personally than what we got if that makes sense. It felt like they were almost in a toxic situationship. She was constantly communicating via his sending stone, and was very much a part of his day to day life. And that, with how things would pan out if it ends in the same kind of way would have been. Eesh. Not good, especially with her human design being a white woman. Also, and I’m not saying this is a good thing… but it’s what I personally saw, there was some overlap in themes with Gale. The romantic patron storyline, the hubris. And early access Gale was a bit more serious, and it was probably a bit of a waste of having comedy actor like Downie in the role (which is quite a bit of casting, he’s very well respected in audio work so it seems silly not to use all his talents.) so a lot of the silly puns and lightness sat naturally in a Gale rewrite, or development.

I just wish there had been more time. I think Theo’s performance is lovely and I love the Wyll we got. He absolutely smashed it and I was SO worried when I heard about the recast as a huge Lanre Malaolu fan. I love that he’s a romantic, I love that he’s so self sacrificing and strong and GOOD. The earliest days of early access, everybody was either evil or VERY morally dubious. It needed at least one good character, and Wyll was a great choice for that character. I just hope against hope that we do get some more act 3 upper city content for him. It feels like that is where he would really shine.

Also if you ever get a chance, as an aside, to see Lanre Malaolu dance? Run, don’t walk. He is an incredible choreographer, actor, director. One of the most thrilling people working in theatre today. I am a mega fan. I think he has some work on YouTube, so get acquainted as he is truly something special.

[14carrotghoul]

Fic Pride Weekend

Rules: Post your favourite line or passage from as many of your published works as you’d like. Let yourself feel proud of your creations! Tag as many people as you post snippets, so your fellow fic friends can be proud, too.

Thank you to @cha-melodius for tagging me! Have added so many of y'all's wonderful fics to my list from this tag game so I wanna see what y'all are proudest of! Tagging @read-and-write- @dumbpeachjuice @sherryvalli @cultofsappho

@happiness-of-the-pursuit @suseagull04 @indomitable-love @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland

@orchidscript @xthelastknownsurvivorx @inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @myheartalivewrites and anyone else that wants to share their personal favorites!!!!

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces 

[...]Thirdly, and most importantly, the music that’s playing is his music, not some flowery French waltz. These are songs that he’s heard since before he could talk. Songs that remind him of Saturday drives with his dad hunting down their favorite flavors of Helados at several grocery stores (mamey for his dad; pecan for himself). Of cleaning with his grandmother when she babysat until she dropped everything to watch her novelas. Smearing masa on corn husks until his fingers went pruny on Christmas Eve. Raucous birthday parties that are responsible for his well-earned anxiety near bouncy castles.

Solo Déjame Estar Junto a Ti

Alex nods decisively and says, “H, you are my choice and the absolute love of my life. I love you and I love your heart and I love your mind and I love the way you’re about to freak the fuck out when I say you have bewitched me, body and soul – ” he pauses because Henry’s chest positively heaves with a sob “ – and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.” His smile widens and he opens the box. “Henry Fox, will you marry me?

True Blue

Henry wades further into the ocean, the Ionian lapping gently against his ribs before he tugs Alex closer and cradles him, whispering poetry in his ear, all sun-kissed skin and besotted smiles; his own private sun tucked safely in his embrace, nourishing him with his endless blaze.

Henry helps. Of course he helps but he's not always enough to cut through his cyclone of a brain; he hasn't been around when he fucks up and cracks under the pressure and spirals into panic attacks and unwise pulls of Maker's Mark straight from the bottle. Henry is there, holding him and helping him breathe and it makes him love him so much more for staying and fear far more deeply because eventually everyone leaves. Henry insists he never will but he doesn't get it he doesn't get it he doesn't get it. He is so alone and he is never alone - not as long as he's getting secretly photographed by fellow students at the library or being blasted on Fox News as their latest scapegoat for everything wrong with America or taking selfies with a barista when all he wants is a triple shot mocha and a fucking break.

Impossible to Ignore, Impossible to Ignore 

His brain is a perpetual maelstrom of immigration law and prayers in Nahuatl and stupid shit like Fergie singing the national anthem. It never shuts the fuck up. However, just being in Henry's presence makes everything else fade away. Wait… FUCK.  Henry looks away, alerting Alex to the fact that he's been staring at him in silence like a total weirdo. For good reason, though, because even though he never entertained the idea that he's into guys, Henry's face - even when exhausted and gray - is inarguable proof of a higher power. Like aurora borealis or the first time he heard Dreams by The Cranberries.

A Love That Haunts the Land [I am particularly proud of the bonkers plot and characterization in this, especially Pez and Raf, but also Nora's introduction below fills me with so much fucking joy]

Alex lives with his best friend/ex-girlfriend/sister-in-law Nora, who Henry meets for the first time while half-naked (and not the half he would've preferred).  She waltzes into the flat with a mischievous glint in her eye, slides onto the couch with them, and steals the remote for their sound system without saying a word. A few seconds later, she's blasting “WAP” and brutally murdering whatever shred remained of the mood while Henry clutches a throw pillow between his legs and begs desperately for the ever-so-elusive release of death. "Do you, like, mind?" Alex yells over the mantra of there’s some whores in this house.

two homes (side by side) 

His deep laugh kicks with the power of a bucking bronco, taking the whole room into hysterics with him – especially if the little ones are around (and they are always around). Abuelo Alex warms the space and fills it with grand and irreverent energy. He weaves tales so magical the kids don't believe him until one of them will chirp, “Is it true, Grandpa Henry?” And he nods sagely, if only to hear them gasp with delight.

Tiempo de Vals 

Before they call it and head back, Alex warns, "FYI, June has a crush on the other guys in the court that aren't related to her. So - you know - you're in the danger zone." "That won't be a problem." Henry blushes again (seriously, does this guy have a condition?) which makes it harder to believe him. "June's not the type of person I'm interested in, and she knows it." Alex half-jokes, "Why not? Are you racist or something?" "I'm gay," Henry answers with an amused huff. Without missing a beat, Alex kisses his teeth in mock disappointment and drawls, "Dodging the question, I see." Henry rolls his eyes and can't help but smile. "You're a menace." "Well, you're not beating the racism allegations with that attitude."

[effymaybe]

Sam cannot wait to have Mon again. So she doesn’t. 

-

Sam closes the front door an inch away from of own back. She’s rushing, borderline desperate, running against the time just to be besides Mon again, to push her flush against her body, smell her hair, run her hands through her silky skin and finally, finally feel complete again. It’s been so long she almost doesn’t know what to do, having Mon, her sweet angel, her air and her soul standing in front of her after she thought she had lost her forever. So she stands still, terrified, until Mon stretches a gentle hand, presses her indents on her damp cheek and Sam crashes against her like a wave. She’s real. She’s real and nice, and warm, and everything Sam missed and her mouth searches for Mon’s as if starving, taking and giving all she can while Mon mewls in equal abandon.

“I missed you”, Sam mumbles between ardent kisses and she wraps her arms around Mon’s waist tightly. She can’t let her go. Not again. There’s no other place for them to be than there, melting in each other’s heat. “I missed you. I missed you”.

She’s tearing up and she doesn’t care. Her lips press urgently against Mon’s jaw, bellow her ear, her neck, and she finds herself suckling, intoxicated, trying to find a way to anchor herself to this wonderful reality where she is not cut open by despair. In retribution, Mon clings onto her shoulders, lets out every sound that wants to escape from her throat, and feels, feels, feels, freely after so much time.

“I missed you”, she says back. Sam grunts and takes her pink coat off. “I missed you, Khun Sam”.

“No”. Sam’s eyes burn into her. She grasps her jaw tightly, shaking, breathing raggedly, her free hand still trying to find a way to undress her. “Call me- something else. It’s- It’s me, Mon. It’s me”.

Mon pulls her into another wet kiss and Sam finally takes her out of her dress. She bites her lower lips in a blatant, animalistic display of desire and Mon whimpers.

“Love, love, do that again”.

Sam does, then, and mon grows impatient. She pulls Sam’s shirt as well and she complies quickly, frantic in her need to have everything of Mon she possibly can. So Sam gets rid of her clothes, aided by Mon’s clever hands, and jumps into her immediately, grasping her lower back, squeezing until she hears a sinful sound choked on her shoulder and she’s kissing her again. Sam lets her tongue twirl with Mon’s and it’s nice and hot, pushes and pushes until they fall onto the couch and Sam knows that they won’t make it upstairs, nowhere near her-their bedroom, but who cares? Mon is lying under her, all lovely and ready with her thighs open in the most delicious way and Sam cries again.

“Mon- angel. Let me have you. Let me make everything up for you. Let me have you, please”. Her hands roam through Mon’s body with a greediness Sam knows she would be scolded for. She doesn’t care. Her fingers trace patterns on Mon’s collarbones, her belly, her breasts, and she gasps and squirms brokenly.

“Yes, yes”, Mon answers. Sam’s mouth latch on her nipple. It’s too much, too much and not nearly enough and she moans in pleasure and frustration. “Darling- please”.

Sam would give her anything, absolutely anything at this point. She doesn’t know how she did it, deprive herself from Mon for such long, tortuous time, but she realizes that there is no turning back, there isn’t a single damn thing worth anything more than the sensation of having Mon there, pulsing, dripping on her thousand-dollars’ worth couch. So she dips her head lower and lower until she can smell her directly and it’s a blessing all over again. She licks into Mon’s core and catches the wave of her hips. She dives into undoing her hungry, bewitched, ready to drink Mon –her Mon- up until she falls limp in her arms and she’s about to, but feels a steady tug making her raise her gaze.

Mon stares down at her panting, flushed, open.

“No, please. I want to cum around your fingers”. She tugs her up to her body and Sam needs to close her eyes at the weight of Mon’s words. She’s perfect, perfect, perfect. “Darling, fill me up, I-”

Sam does growl. She would be embarrassed but she’s too busy using two rough indents to finger her love, watching her roll her eyes up, let her jaw fall slack, bask into pure pleasure without restrains.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this, sunshine”. Mon cannot answer. She mewls as Sam curls her fingers knuckle-deep inside of her. “I missed this so much. Missed you, so much, Mon. I love you”.

Mon hisses and Sam pushes another finger. She feels Mon clenching and it’s all wonderful, infinite, feverish.

“Sam- Darling, I’m-”

“Tell me that you love me”.

Mon can barely hold on to any thought. Sam curls her fingers again and she sees white. It’s overwhelming, building and building, but Sam is commanding her and she’s- she’s good. She’ll always be good for Sam, her soulmate, her heart.

“I love you. I love you”. She feels a thumb grazing her clit and she tears up. “Oh, Sam-”

“Who do you belong to?”

It’s a push. It’s daring, and possessive, and it holds so much power that Sam would be scared. But Mon is riding her hand in tandem, lost and delirious, full of raw love and Sam wants to hear it all, to be sure that she’s still hers, hers, hers and no-one else’s.

“Oh- you. I belong- I’m yours, Sam. I love you. Please make me cum. I love you”. And Sam does, because who would deny Mon of such tiny request? She’d give her the world. And she will. She will make up and take her sweet angel everywhere and make her the happiest ever, just like she always deserved. So she draws tight circles in Mon’s clit and she’s cumming between a moan and the next, beautiful, pink, and grateful like only she manages to be.

They kiss and kiss until Mon can breathe normally again. Sam keeps touching her, running her fingers through her thighs, arms, neck, whispering the sweetest of the words, making promises she’s finally sure she can keep.

Mon smiles, giggles, and cries, and then lets Sam squeeze her a bit more, until the light in her eyes changes. Sam watches it all unfold with an alert gaze, drunk in Mon’s presence, trying to dissect every bit of her emotions just to build an entirety of joy for her. She deserves it. Mon deserves so, so much, her winged savior, so she lets her switch positions until she’s lying compliant below her.

Mon purses her lips in the bolt of a thought and then rushes down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. Sam is wet, thoroughly so, and she has to choke a whimper when Mon rolls her lips right into hers, taunting. Sam can only buck up almost as if in instinct, desperate to drown in anything Mon would be willing to give her. She feels a fiery tongue licking inside her mouth, gazing her own, sucking her earlobe, her neck, her collarbones. Sam arches up just enough, and then mon bites and she’s finally moaning openly.

“More of that, sweetie. Wanna hear you”.

And of course she’s speaking in English, her little minx. It makes Sam fall into her spell faster, open her legs winder. She needs it so, so damn much.

“Yes- Just… please”.

Mon scratches her inner thighs, marking. Then, she rolls Sam’s clit with her thumb and it’s just perfect. Sam thrusts in a rough rhythm, but she couldn’t ask for anything else because it’s so good, everything she’s missed, Mon’s clever indents making her lose herself and then everything stops and she’s left painfully high.

Mon’s hand wraps itself around her neck and Sam almost cums right fucking there. She’s looking down at her predatorily, fiercely and with a hint of darkness that would make Sam raise her eyebrows if she wasn’t so hazy in her pleasure. She wants more. She wants Mon to choke her and hurt her just right, just so the cue of their connection stands out proudly in her neck for a while and all she can do is show it for everyone to see. So she grasps Mon’s hand almost desperately, and use her own to add pressure there.

Mon does not hesitate. She dives her fingers into Sam and lets her other hand press on her neck and Sam lets her eyes roll up her head and just gives in, lets everything come, gasps, cries out, and moves just as Mon wants.

“Open your eyes”, Mon says. Sam complies, with every fiber of her shaking willpower. “Did he do this to you?”

Sam needs a few moments. Who? Who could ever-?

The hand in her neck tightens and Sam clenches.

“No”, she manages to say, finally understanding. Mon curls her fingers. “Oh, no, Mon, darling. No one- You don’t understand- I-” She’s gone, gone, gone. All she can sense is Mon. All she could ever sense is Mon. It’s lovely, her little world, dizzy and finally happy. “No-one could ever do this. It’s you.” Mon whimpers and kisses her right there. Sam speaks between kisses, when she’s allowed to breathe, when she sobers up the pleasure, “It’s only you, love, you”.

Mon bites, sucks, tongues. She can’t stop sobbing.

“Mon, Mon, Mon”.

Sam wants to ask for permission. Mon lets her, would let her take a piece of her soul if she could. It doesn’t matter. It’s all hers.

She curls her fingers one more time and Sam is cumming violently, trembling and gasping for air as Mon kisses every inch of skin she can reach. It’s them. It’s finally them and they are entangled once again, as it should have been always. Sam cannot believe her luck. She got Mon twice. She’ll definitely won’t test destiny again. The pain of losing Mon still burns in her chest like a healing scar. She’s afraid of moving. She’s afraid of enjoying herself too much and suddenly waking up alone in the coldness of the mansion, broken and empty.

But Mon is looking down at her with absolute serenity, loving, all vulnerable and hers and Sam kisses her softly. It’s fine. They’ll get through it. They’ll learn each other again. They’ll fight together and win.

“I love you, my moon and stars”, she whispers.

It’s more than that. It’s more than love, more than anything a person can feel. It’s whole and it grows, grows, grows.

But then Mon smiles back, all shiny eyes and blushed cheeks, and Sam sees it reflected, all that beautiful intertwinement of emotions she cannot put a word to. It’s all clear and bright for her and it makes her unbelievably happy.

Mon gives it the only name she knows, too.

“I love you, my darling”.

And it’s enough. They understand.

-

sorry for this one kisses kisses

will work with the prompts you sent very very soon :)

[sniperjade]

“How can I serve you, Master?”

The man’s voice rumbled, deep and resonant.

He was standing nonchalantly in the centre of Hermione’s laboratory, wearing a dark charcoal, military-style coat that fell open to reveal a brocade green waistcoat. Her eyes travelled upward over the neatly buttoned black shirt and the swirling silver and green tie. When she finally reached his face, he was already staring intensely at her, his bewitching dark eyes feeling like they could see right into her soul. He was a stunning creature, made of high cheekbones and softly curling black hair.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat and pleasure pooled low in her stomach. The man’s eyes widened slightly, and a smile stretched over his lips as he watched her reaction.

This is impossible.

“Who are you?”

He shifted, to rest his weight on one leg, casually putting one hand in his trouser pocket. A gesture of indifference. “You can call me Varek.”

Hermione glanced quickly back at the lamp where it lay cold and dormant on her lab table. It was hard to believe only moments earlier, that it had exploded filling the room with black smoke and the acrid stench of burning. She’d had to cast Verula in order to avoid choking on it and even now, tufts of it remained hugging the corners of the room, casting shadow on the dark tile.

She crossed her arms in front of her.

“Fine. What are you?”

He licked his lips and tilted his head. “Your slave.”

Her breath caught and she tried to tell her traitorous body to fuck off, but his gaze travelled down her figure to where her thighs had tightened and smiled again. This man, Varek, was far too canny for his own good. It was as if he saw through every move and every word. The whole situation was ridiculous. Was she really supposed to believe that this well dressed man came out of a lamp?

Her mouth tightened into a hard line. “You know what I mean. Are you a genie?”

He brought up his free hand to pick at an invisible spot of lint on his collar as he sighed. “I prefer the term ifrit. I find the anglicised version ‘genie’ so crass, don’t you?”

Huffing out an irritated sigh, she continued, “And I suppose you are going to give me three wishes.”

He tilted his head down and looked up at her through his long lashes. “If that is what you require.”

What she required was information, not speculation and hearsay.

Hermione’s parents had taken her to see the movie Aladdin in the summer of 1993. A delayed showing at some dilapidated cinema, since she had missed the main release. It had seemed so ridiculous to her at the time. She knew that magic didn’t and couldn’t work that way.

This man was an impossibility and it irked her to be proven so wrong.

“Are you going to tell me I can’t wish for more wishes, for anyone to fall in love with me or to bring anyone back from the dead?” She counted them off on her fingers in a mocking tone.

Varek barked out a laugh and closed the two steps between them, his eyes roving over her. “Why on earth would I tell you that? Whatever you wish is my command.”

She held out a hand, her palm facing toward him as he came to a stop directly before her. He leaned forward until it was pressed flush against his hard chest. That was unexpected. She had thought he might be incorporeal but the muscle beneath her hand was definitely real. Real and warm and hard.

“Do I have to make a wish to make you do what I say?” she asked breathlessly.

He was close. This was ridiculous. Get it together Hermione. You’re not a child, and he’s just a man. You’ve bedded plenty of them. They’re always disappointing no matter how attractive or intelligent they are. But that was the thing, wasn't it? This man seemed to be attractive and intelligent and the way he said Master made her shiver to her very toes. Her body continued to ignore her.

All the men she had dated before, kept asking for things and never listened, leaving her feeling annoyed, irritable and profoundly unsatisfied. The only one who had come marginally close had been Michael Corner. She dated him a little over a year ago and whilst he was able to keep up with her in lively academic debate, that turned into furious kisses and tugs on his long dark hair. That was as far as the fire went. As soon as his lips were on hers, his hands went soft, and his words turned gentle, and it wasn’t enough.

Varek got down on his knees in front of her and spread his arms in supplication.

“That depends on what it is you want,” he hummed.

This man, this creature, knew exactly what to say to her. She stepped forward leaning down to cup his chin, words ready on the tip of her tongue — Continue on Ao3