#// don't feel the need to match me in length. I got a little carried away with this one! XD

[h0ttestgrlinm0urgu3]

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔶 𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔟𝔬𝔴

𝖍𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

summary [henry let's you play with bows and you get carried away]

warnings [smut, mouth stuff🎀, bimbo~ish ig, no p in v, pet names, soft dom henry🎀]

being the type of girl you were you loved ribbons and bows. they weren't something you indulged in often as a child, growing up in the country and all, but once you got older you feel in love with them.

you'd put them everywhere, in your hair, on your clothes, there's even some on your walls and others tied around stuffed bears.

Henry had recently gotten you these really cute ribbon bow clips and you were currently sitting beside him putting them in his hair. he's not really paying attention to you, he's used to this kind of treatment and just sat scrolling on his phone. you dropped one of the clips from his hair and in to his lap. as you go to reach for it a thought flashes in your mind. 'can I put a bow on your dick?' you ask your boyfriend after retrieving the clip.

you see the way henry freezes and hurriedly say 'not these, like ribbon' you clear up. he lets out a breath and laugh before looking at you 'I was scared for a sec baby' he says tucking a peice of hair behind your ear making you smile. he returns your smile and leans in for a kiss. 'of course I'll let my pretty girl dress me up' henry says sitting back up with the clips still in his hair.

so excited you jump up and let out a squeal 'omg yay' you scream about to go into you and Henry's shared room for some ribbon. turning to him before you go saying 'don't get hard' which earns you an eye roll as you leave 'you wanna do it or not' he mumbles as your walking but you hear.

in the room your trying to figure out what color ribbon you wanted. you got it down to pink and purple, so you bring them out to henry. 'which one do you want?' you question, you sit beside him on the couch, getting comfortable with your upper half mostly on his lap. 'whatever matches my hair' he says as he scrolls through something.

you go with the pink since he had pink in his hair. unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock out your really happy to see the he wasn't hard. it might sound odd but you liked playing with his soft cock. cutting the ribbon to length before throwing everything on to the floor. you start to tie the ribbon at the base of his dick, humming to yourself as henry continued on his phone, you could care less.

looking down at the pretty pink bow you made your so proud in your self. you let out a giggle in excitement and notice the way Henry's cock twitched when you laughed. your mouth begin to water. trying something else you lightly blow making it twitch again.

you mouth became the ocean and you desperatly needed to taste him. opening your mouth and letting droll drip onto the head of his cock before lowering your head and licking it up. 'ohh fuck baby' henry moans out at the unexpected pleasure, finally placing his attention on you.

you take the tip of this cock in your mouth savering the taste of him. opening your mouth wider you take his full soft length in. feeling the bow brush against your lips. feeling him swell you come up for air letting out a little whine at the fact that this is the first time he's ever fully fit in your mouth, and it's because hes never let you suck it soft. and it's not gonna last much longer, but you'll enjoy having him in your mouth either way.

looking up to meet his gaze he grips your jaw and squeezes your cheecks together. sticking out your tounge he roughly brings you up for a sloppy kiss, gripping the back of your scalp. he breaks the kiss to leave kisses all over your face before letting you go back down to his cock, which is now fully hard.

bow intact.

you lick from the base to the tip repetadly. bringing your focus more to the head of his cock you bring one hand to the base and the other to his balls. 'fuck baby you know daddy likes that' he moans out as his hips buck forcing the tip of his cock all the way into your mouth. you gag a little before you adjust to it returning to your pace.

henry looks down to the ungodly display infornt of him. you desperatly sucking his cock, pretty hands playing with his balls with a pretty pink ribbon rapped around his cock, your eyes are watery, the floor beneath you full of droll and pre cum. your looking up to him eyes glossed over moaning every so often telling him just how much you love his cock.

'ahh- fuckk, baby im gonna cum' he moaned out. forcing the rest of his cock into your moth and down your throat henry couldn't hold back any longer. his cum being forced down your throat and falling from the sides of your mouth around his cock getting your bow all dirty. removing him from your mouth with a giggle and a smile so happy that you grew into loving bows.

[a/n: this randomly came to me and I wrote it right away so if it's bad blame it on that. 🎀]

[starwrittenfates]

She had to learn to grow accustomed to her new life. At first it had been difficult for her to leave her old one behind. Lyna knows she tried to fight against it, but when she was presented with no other choice, she had to figure out a new way to survive. It had not been easy, but she surprisingly found herself growing into her new life as a Grey Warden, realizing all she was fighting for.

Becoming the Hero of Ferelden hadn't been her intention. All she wanted was to end the Blight and avenge all those she had lost along the way because of it --- her old life and Tamlen being among that list of course. But becoming Warden-Commander was a choice she had made and one she didn't regret. "Ah, well, you can still just call me Lyna."

Listening to Merrill, her words didn't go unnoticed by Lyna, especially when it came to regards about the clan. Brown eyes going wide with surprise before it feels like she's been hit in the gut again at the mention of Tamlen. "Merrill..." she starts, swallowing sadly. "He's dead. I know, because...back during the Blight, he visited me at camp except...he was no longer the Tamlen we knew anymore. The corruption had turned him into something else. He begged me to end his pain but...I couldn't. I wanted to save him, however...I was left with no choice." Even if it was a little easier to talk about now, there was still no denying the fact it hurt to bring up, causing her to wipe away a tear.

She changed the subject, still worried about what her friend had brought up earlier. "What happened with you and the clan? Don't be afraid to tell me."

Merrill was more and more isolated. Her clan seem to detest her, barely talking to her. The Keeper and her had their disagreeement but, nothing was so disheartening than being rejected by your own family. And Tamlen weight still heavy on her mind, she knew that he was dead, probably, but every time that thought crossed her mind it only made her carry that shard even tighter to her chest to gain new resolve.

One of her comforts laid in the letters Lyna was sending her. It gave her courage to know that , maybe she too, could exist and thrive outside of the clan , outside of what she knew all her life. To say she had been waiting their meeting with anticipation, was an understatement. "Aneth ara !" she happely greeted and was quick to take the other's woman hands in hers. "You look better than the last time I saw you ! Of course you do , hero of Ferelden, Warden-Commadner, all those human titles on you . " she babblered.

At the question of how she was doing, a flicker of incertainty passed her eyes. "Oh, you know ... the usual... you make choices and the clan thinks you are the most evil person to exist - I'm sorry ... I am just ..."Merrill sighed. "I - thinks have been tough ....I did not want to alarm you in my letters but - " she looked down. "I still haven't found him, you know. Tamlen."

[hearts4golbach]

Busy. (Jake Webber x Fem!Reader.)

warning: smut

-

"jake?" I called from the living room. he was in the kitchen making food. "can we go out tonight? we haven't been on a date in like 2 months. I miss you."

"uh, I can't tonight, babe." he explained, "me and johnnie are working."

"yeah, that's all you've been fucking doing." I mutter under my breath.

"what?" Jake says a little louder.

"nothing." I said with an annoyed tone.

he walks into the room and wraps his arms around me, kissing my cheek. "tell me what's bothering you."

I pushed his arms off and stood up. "you don't have time for me anymore and it's honestly annoying as fuck." I knew I should be considerate because he's working, but I also had a right to be mad.

i walked away before he could answer, shutting the bathroom door to take a shower.

10 minutes later, jake knocked on the door. "I'm going to head out, can I come in?"

"okay." I mumbled.

he walked in and I peaked out of the curtain. "yeah?"

he placed a kiss on my lips. "I'll be home later."

I frowned. "I'm sure you will."

he texted johnnie, saying he was on his way before exiting the bathroom.

-

I sat on the couch for 3 hours watching 'Sonic Underground' because that show is fire as fuck and always made me feel better.

my limbs were spread out all over the couch as I drank diet coke. I was giggling at the show whenever I heard the front door open.

"honey, I'm home!" Jake called jokingly. he was more chipper than he was earlier.

"I'm in the living room." I answered, not bothering to match his energy.

he walked in, carrying food in one hand and flowers in the other.

"oh, cute. did johnnie get you flowers?" I teased.

he rolled his eyes and handed them to me. "they're for you."

"thank you, baby." I gave him a sad smile.

"whatcha watching?"

"sonic." he handed me one box. it was my favorite take out. "awe, jake."

"this is our late little date. I promise, I'll take you out soon." he smiled and began to dig into his own food.

I was still quite angry at him, though. he sensed that.

"if there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I will." he offered.

I felt my cheeks heat up. "I don't think I should say the first thing that came to mind."

jake smirked before pulling me in for a kiss. I think he got the hint. he kissed me deeply, moving his hands up to cup my face.

"I'm sorry I've been such a dick lately, I've been so caught up with work and johnnie."

"it's okay, you can make it up to me now."

he pulled me into his lap. "I intend to." he groaned softly as I grinded my hips against him.

"I want you, jake." I pleaded, holding back a moan from the friction.

"then take me."

I began to take off his shirt and pants, planning to fuck him right here on the couch.

he took of my clothes as well, tossing them somewhere in the living room. we were both left in our underwear.

"you're already so hard." I whispered in his ear.

"you have that effect on me." he began to kiss my neck, trailing down to my covered chest. his hands snaked around my back, unclipping my bra.

he cupped my tit with one hand while the other was on my hip, grinding me down onto him. "fuck, jake." I moaned softly.

"you're so perfect." he said, smashing his lips onto mine.

he quickly pulled off my underwear, leaving me naked on top of him. I palmed his length through his boxers, feeling his cock twitch under my touch.

"fuck-" he whimpered, pulling down his boxers. his dick sprang up. "are you okay with this?" Jake breathed out, his eyes trailing up my body.

I nodded eagerly. he grabbed my hips and positioned himself at my entrance. I slowly took his length, making him let out a needy moan.

"shh." I placed a gentle kiss on his lips. "these walls are thin, the neighbors will hear."

"I don't care." he pants, beginning to thrust in and out at a slow pace. he looked at me with desire and need in his eyes. "you feel so fucking good."

"you're so good, jake." I placed my hands on his chest. I wasn't a very verbal person while we fucked, but I wanted to change that.

"oh, fuck." Jake gasped, throwing his head back as I picked up the pace.

he looked back at me, watching as I bounced on his hard length. "oh my-" I moaned. "faster, jake."

without hesitation, he sped up the pace. his hips met mine with a primal rhythm. the sound of it filled the room. he groaned into my neck, going at it harder.

"just like that." I breathed, placing my hands on his shoulders for more stability.

"you're so fucking tight." he grunted, digging his fingers into my hips as he pushed deeper. "I'm so close."

he continuously hit my g spot, making me lose control. I moaned incoherent swears as his cock throbbed inside of me. "you're driving me crazy." I managed to utter.

"I know." he said with a smirk. he gripped my hair, pulling my head back as he began to leave dark hickeys on my neck.

"shit," I breathed. "I'm close."

"cum with me, babe." he grabbed my ass.

my body tensed with his final thrust, pushing deep inside as he shot his seed. he cried out in pleasure, kissing me lazily.

"how could I ever be mad at you." i say, trying to catch my breath.

[casuallyawkardd]

I HAVE AN IDEA.

can you do a nsfw fic with miguel where readers a top and miguel’s obviously the sub..

BUT HE LETS “MOMMY” slip out and yk she kinda makes him keep saying it just cause of that

💖💘💝💕💞💓💗

Bestie got me twirling and kicking my feet 🤭💕 we stan submissive and breedable Miguel just as much as dominant papi Miguel. I am taking creative liberty in doing the Spanish version of 'mommy' cuz it feels more biblically accurate, but like same difference.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x F!Reader

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! sex, oral sex, edging, dirty talk, cock warming sub!Miguel, F!dom, not fluent in Spanish so please correct spelling/grammar

Miguel had had a rough week. Between the new recruits, the anomalies and Peter just being...Peter, he hadn't had a moment's peace. Nor had he been able to come see you. When he first arrived at your apartment, you had been ready to chew him out and maybe send him on his way. But, judging by the sagging of his shoulders and how he seemed to carry himself a little less high, you realized that he needed relief. He needed you to take care of him.

"Do you want me to make dinner? How about a warm bath?"

Miguel shakes his head at your offers, a possessive hand grasping the nape of your neck, "Just want you," he murmurs, lips pressing firmly to yours. You almost fall for it, let him take the lead and whisk you off to the bedroom, but you find the strength to push him away.

"Let me take care of you, Miguelito," you coo, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. Fingers intertwine with his, giving his arm a tug towards your bedroom.

That's what got you both to where you were now. Both stripped bare, Miguel sat on the edge of the bed with you nestled between his thighs. He's leaning back on his arms, claws extended and kneading the sheets that bunch inside his fists. Lazy moans pass his lips, Miguel whimpering as he resists the urge to buck his hips so his cock can slide down your throat. Fighting the temptation to rake his fingers through your hair and pull you closer.

"You can't touch, Miguel. This is about me taking care of you, so relax," is what you had told him, but he's struggling to see what's relaxing about this. Your mouth is heavenly, warm and soft as you slowly move up and down his shaft. Your tongue brushes against the underside of his cock, running along the vein before dipping into the slit on the tip. You can feel him twitch whenever your teeth come out, not enough to hurt, just a gentle prick that has him take a sharp intake of breath.

"Dios mío," he groans when you start to move a little faster. The sound of your lips running along his length is erotic. Wet and sloppy, drool and precum dripping down your chin. Miguel begins to sway his hips, matching your rhythm.

Just as he's about to reach the edge, you pull away completely with a loud pop. He whines, fucking whines when you deny him what he wants. "Don't. Move." you say firmly, leaning in to kiss his tip.

"Vale, vale, amor, you can't-ayyy mami~," Miguel moans, loud and long as you take the tip back into your mouth and suck it gently.

His words give you pause, releasing him once more. Miguel's lost in his own world, craving release like how lungs crave air. You use his knees to lift yourself up, a hand moving to cup his face to which he leans into your touch. "Say it again," you tell him.

He looks up at you through his lashes, brows knitting together slightly, chest heaving and glistened by sweat. "Wh-What do you-amor-"

You tighten your grip, grasping his face and lifting his head so you have his undivided attention, "Call me that again. Beg for what you want." The hand on his face releases, fingers ghosting down his throat and you can feel his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. His hands lift to grasp the small of your back, "Don't. Touch. Miguel."

He groans, hands immediately at his sides once more, anger briefly flashing through his eyes before that want returns. He swallows again, "Fuck...let me fuck you, mami please," his voice raises an octave, a slight tremor with every word, "Por favor mami, wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You stifle the shiver of pleasure that goes down your spine, smiling down at him before leaning in. As you straddle his lap, you plant gentle kisses across his face. His forehead, his eyelids, his nose, before molding your lips to his and guiding him to lie down on the bed. You enjoy it, tongues and teeth clashing together, tangling your fingers in his hair and yanking on the strands ever so slightly.

Finally you part, rising up to hover above him. Your hand reaches down to grasp his cock, giving him a gentle squeeze that has him squirming under you. "Good boy, good fucking boy, Miguelito," you praise him, finally sinking down onto his thick length. The two of you gasp simultaneously, you at the fullness of his cock nestling inside you and him at how you clench around his girth.

You savor the moment before beginning to rock your hips, angling yourself so he's grazing your g spot. Moans intermingle with moans, wet, slapping sounds echoing in your little bedroom. Miguel can only take so much, "Mami, por favor, let me touch you-ngh-let me feel you fully," he whimpers and you nod quickly, unable to find your own voice at the moment.

Large hands grasp your thighs, claws retracted so he can squeeze the flesh. They travel up, wrapping around your waist and yanking you down on him. It stutters your movements, Miguel briefly taking control as you adjust to the new pace, deep and quick. Your hands find purchase on his chest, nails digging into the skin to remind of his place as you slam down onto him.

"Baby, c'mere," you gasp, wrapping a hand around his neck and pulling him to you. Miguel complies, sitting upright and finding your lips with his. He's enamored with the feeling of your breasts against his chest, creating a delicious friction as you continue to move up and down. "Make me cum, make me fucking cum," you demand between heavy breaths.

"Yes, mami," Miguel's grip on you tightens, bouncing you on his cock. And he does, moving you at near inhuman speed until he feels you clenching around him. Your hands find his, prying them from your body as you ride out your orgasm, grinding your hips to his so he can feel all of you clenching and unclenching around him.

Miguel moans into your shoulder, finding his own release and shuddering against you. The air is hot and sweet, you both now still as you catch your breath. Miguel shakes free of your grasp to wrap an arm around you, falling back on the bed and taking you with him.

You let out a breathy laugh, pressing your cheek to his and humming contently. The muscles in his body begin to relax and you pat him on the shoulder, "Baby, you're still inside of me."

"Let me sleep like this, m'been needing this all week...not ready to let you go..." he mutters, the sleep he had been craving now tugging on his eyelids. You giggle, rubbing his shoulder reassuringly, "Thank you."

"Thank you...?"

"Thank you, mami."

Tags: @khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219 @edgycatx @oharaludes @graysonshaven @qiaipia @3zae-zae3 @melovetitties @jebsoxnoshansk @thedevax @erissco @its-carlerrr @muimui06 @4imhry

[amymbona]

Request: angsty friends with benefits with Tashi! Thank you 😊

Ask and you shall receive!!!!! 🥹 Hope this is angsty enough! I feel like this genre requires a lot of word building, hence the length (or I am just incapable of writing short stuff)

Warnings: angst, mild nsfw, hints of fingering and eating out, cursing, fem!reader

Word count: 2,7 K

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

It probably all started as a joke between the two of you, some lines along "All boys are assholes," being shared. To you, it felt like a betrayal, of sorts, mainly aiming to hurt Patrick who was, at the time, Tashi's boyfriend. She argumented rationally, that he only visits Stanford once in a few months anyway, so he has no way of knowing anyway.

To be honest, you didn't need much convincing. Tashi Duncan is a stunning individual, carrying such an aura around her that makes her appear like an angel. Or rather, a devil in an angel's body. All it takes is a few words from her plump lips, sometimes even a glance - that you don't want to be on the receiving end of, especially once her eyelids drop a bit and she glances at you through her lashes - and you melt into a puddle, allowing her to mold you however she likes.

That's how you find yourself in her dorm room every other night, laid bare on her sheets, having the pleasure of admiring her gorgeous body hovering above yours. She's lean, perhaps a bit too much in your eyes, and you often attempt to sneak little pieces of chocolate into her sports bag for her to munch on. However, that doesn't take away from her beauty at all. 

Often, your eyes trail down to her tummy where tight muscles are present. It looks fucking hot. And reminds you how strong and dedicated to her work out plan she is. Despite being fairly the same height as you, she has no issues overpowering you. 

“You did so good today," her lips ghost over yours, one knee bracing between your legs and rubbing against your panties. "Played a good fucking match."

"Tashi." you whisper her name sweetly, fingers running up her bare sides, the sight of her bare torso clad in her Adidas sports bra already making you hungry for what's underneath. 

"You might be better than me one day." the compliment makes you shake to your core, and you almost doubt her words, knowing she's never said this to anyone. And Tashi knows that too. But this is her way of easing your worries, of allowing you to relax and not doubt whatever is going on between you too. That's an issue for later. 

Your hips buckle against her knee, hoping to feel some more friction between your legs. Due to today's match, neither of you had much time to meet up earlier this week. It's crazy how needy one - you - can become in just a few days, but you've grown so accustomed to her body, to her touch and it's like a drug to you, something you can't function without. 

"Let me make you feel good, okay? Reward you like you deserve it." You've never seen Tashi this generous before, this willing to give and satisfy another person's needs rather than own. 

You have one crucial privilege. In this world, you are the only person who Tashi has allowed herself to be soft around. With you, she is tender, gentle, she talks to you as if you were a kid and allows you to coddle her in return, to hold her head against your chest and stroke her hair while she plays with your sensitive nipples. Your relationship is gentle and full of a deep sense of understanding and mutual respect. 

And she does make you feel good, so insanely good when her fingers dip under your panties to feel the gathered wetness. A smirk adorns Tashi's gorgeous face as she earns a soft sigh from your lips, knowing damn well that the more time you spend without her touch, the more sensitive you are. Her neatly trimmed nails run over the skin of your inner thighs as she pulls your panties down, smiling at the sight of your pussy. 

Her name escapes your lips once more when her tongue runs between your folds, tasting the built up arousal. In a few moments, she's got your back arching and hips grinding as her lips latch onto your clit, sucking onto the delicate bundle of nerves. She basically makes out with your cunt, tongue running between your inner lips, teasing your poor, sensitive hole. Her pointed nose bumps and rubs against your clit, the sweet music of your moans reaching her ears. And she's fucking delighted, making you cum on her tongue a few minutes later. 

The two of you spend quite a lot of time with Art, a familiar face connected to you two mainly through Patrick. He's the physical reminder of his best friend, making it feel like Patrick is in some way constantly present, looming over his girlfriend's carefree frame. The two boys exchange emails frequently, where Art informs Patrick about all the juicy gossip concerning not just Stanford but mainly his girlfriend and her new, unusually close friend. And the more aware of their correspondence you are, the harder it is to constantly tip toe around it. 

Art Donaldson is like a hawk, eyes sharp like an x-Ray, seeing through everything and everyone with precision. And he has surely noticed your relationship with Tashi, that reminds him a bit too much of his own with Patrick. Unfortunately, he is quick to notice whatever remains hidden between your gaze, as Tashi's face is always ice cold, not allowing a single hint of whatever might be going on in their mind. But you're not as aloof, you are unable to keep a straight face if something is bothering you. 

But Art keeps it casual, somehow, and plays the part of a detective. Sometimes, he sits next to you in the cafeteria, asking how's tennis and stuff going. 

"Alright." you usually respond, not feeling like giving him more. 

"And how's Tashi? She doesn't tell a lot, y'know." Art pushes, taking a bite of his well seasoned potato. 

"Tashi," you nod with acknowledgement, drawing patterns across the plate with your fork. "Yeah, she's good. Focused on tennis, so there isn't much to tell." 

"But you spend a lot of time together, don't you?" he presses further, eyeing you up and down. Under his gaze, you almost feel naked, vulnerable, as if he was actually able to read your mind. 

You just shrug, eyes still locked on the plate. "I dunno. We revise for our exams sometimes."

And then in the afternoon, when you're in Tashi's dorm again, you let her know about the conversation with the blonde boy. She brushes it off, as per usual, insisting you shouldn't worry about him. But it doesn't go that easy to you. 

The more frequent these exchanges of opinions become, the more frustrated you find yourself. It appears as if there were little to no feelings from Tashi's side, not for Patrick nor you. But she's not opposed either. At best, she is simply indifferent. Takes life - or rather everything else that isn't tennis - as it comes, accepts what life offers her and then moves on. 

"I told you to stop worrying 'bout it, Y/N." she huffs, stretching on her mat on the floor while you're sitting cross legged on her bed. 

"But how can I, Tash? It's not that easy, y'know." you respond with a pout, fingers gathering her sheets into a little ball before smoothing it down again. She's silent, focused on laying her torso above her stretched legs. You sigh. "How's Patrick?" 

"Dunno." 

"He's your boyfriend." 

"And?" 

"You should know how he's doing." you press, glancing down at a few fallen strands of hair that frame her beautiful face.

With a roll of her eyes, Tashi drops flat onto her back. With her knees bent, she lifts her hips off of the mat, working on strengthening her core muscles. Despite the uncomfortable position, her voice remains unwavering. "I don't care about him." 

She's never told you that before. Each time you bit into the topic of Patrick, Tashi simply assured you not to think about him and enjoy your time together. But this time, it's different. 

"Don't give me that look." she huffs, continuing with her sets, small, stable breaths leaving her nose. 

"What look?" you mumble.

Tashi doesn't respond yet, laying flat on her back once more. With a small pout on her lips, lower lip sucked in between her teeth, she gazes up on you. "That one you give me when you want me to love you." 

"Tashi-" 

She never lets you say anything like that, not outside your dirty escapades. That is the only time allowed for words of affection, for soft whispers into each other's ears that you have held back from saying the whole day. But it has never crossed the line, the word love not mentioned once. 

The ever so stoic expression on her face, Tashi shuffles towards the bed, remaining on her knees. Her cold palms find their place on your thighs as she slowly spreads your legs, shuffling between them. You don't feel the usual excitement. 

"I won't give you what you want, Y/N." she begins, nails digging into the soft skin of your legs, eyes boring into yours. This is not the time for another tender display of affection. 

"Then why are we doing this?" you ask, voice quiet. There you are, completely pathetic under - despite her sitting literally below you - the hard gaze of Tashi Duncan, the ice cold woman with only pretense for feelings she's unwilling to give you. 

"Cause it's nice," she responds simply, palms running up and down your spread thighs, fingertips teasing under the fabric of your shorts. "And we both like nice things." 

"I'd like more nice things." you mumble with a pout on your lips, already sensing your eyes are filling with salty tears. This time, you allow the truth to hit you fully. That Tashi Duncan will never love you the way you love her. She won't love you, nor Patrick, nor anyone else. Because she simply doesn't do love. 

"I know." she nods. 

That, to you, is the final nail on the coffin. With a deep exhale, you let your shoulders slouch and back rest against the wall behind you. Your eyes unfocus with the tiny pools of salty water filling them in, and when you attempt to blink the tears away, a few slide down your cheeks. Tashi, of course, notices. 

"Y/N," she demands your attention, but you don't give her that. With a roll of her eyes, she slides one hand through the leg of your shorts, nails brushing over the edge of your panties. "You can go to your place and cry, or, I can eat you out and make us both feel good."

That's fucking unbelievable, what she is offering to you. How could the feeling of sexual stimulation possibly surpass the sheer beauty of having your feelings reciprocated? For someone, it could. But for you? Never. 

You shudder as Tashi's finger finds the sensitive bump of your clit with blind precision, eyes still locked onto your teary eyes. She's offering all that she can give, all that she is willing to give even though he shows it's nowhere near as close to enough for you. And it's entirely up to you whether you lower yourself to a pathetic mess and choose to accept that. 

"I can't, Tashi." with a relatively firm - and yet still cautiously gentle - hold to her wrist, you pull it out of your shorts and get up from the bed. Tears are already rolling down your cheeks and you wipe them away with a shaky hand, attempting to appear at least half as collected as Tashi is at the moment. "I'm sorry, I just- I'll see you later." 

It's days, weeks even that you two don't exchange anything besides a few hi's and hello's when you cross each other's paths during practice. For you, it has been troublesome to keep your composure, to remain focused on tennis when the woman you have deep feelings for is on the court next to you. When her delicate moans and groans reach your ears as she jumps from left to right to hit the ball. Precise as always, she is. 

The next day, Art grants you with his presence once again, occupying the space next to you in the cafeteria. He's munching on some protein bar, an almost teasing smile pulling onto his stuffed mouth. "Patrick's coming to visit."

"Oh." 

"We're prolly gonna go out or something, I mean him, me and Tashi," he announces as if it's just a regular Tuesday occasion for him. And it is. "Wanna tag along?" 

And watch Tashi be all wrapped up in Patrick's arms, constantly smoothed down by the guy's hands that he is incapable of keeping to himself? Hell no. You'd rather claw your own eyes out and then play tennis with them. 

That is exactly what you consider once you find yourself in Art's dorm, the four of you occupying the square shaped carpet in the middle of the room, forced to watch the shittiest comedy of your life. In front of you, Patrick's all sprawled out, Tashi resting between his legs with her back against his chest. In a casual manner, his arm is thrown around her hips, fingers tracing the exposed skin where her tank top doesn't quite meet her pants. For you, the sight is tortuous. 

Like a magnet, your eyes are pulled towards that exact spot, throwing imaginary daggers at Patrick who, poor guy, is all innocent and undeserving of your disdain. But you can't help it.

"So, how's the tour, man?" Art asks Patrick, taking a sip of his beer. 

"Good, good. The usual," he shrugs absentmindedly, gaze locked onto his girlfriend's precious face, while, in the meantime, she's only looking at you. "But the break's better. Get to be with my girl." 

And to accentuate his words, Patrick presses a fat kiss to Tashi's cheek, his hand moving up to grope her breast. She swats him away with a playful roll of her eyes and silences him with a kiss. All of this is too much for you to bear. 

"I've gotta go," you announce softly, not looking to drive much attention to yourself. But you seriously can't stay there, otherwise, you'd go insane. "I have homework for tomorrow."

That's bullshit, and the three of them know it. But Patrick doesn't question anything and, luckily, Art doesn't spill any of his suspicions to his best friend. And Tashi, well, she remains relaxed, offering a small bye.

Closing the door behind yourself, you basically collapse against the wall, clutching a palm over your mouth to silence all the sobs that are threatening to escape your mouth. In the dim light of the corridor, the weight of the situation falls onto you completely, leaving you all alone, only the distinct chatter and laugh of the two men in the presence of the woman you love tickling your ears. 

You're too deep in thoughts to even notice the gentle pair of footsteps and a slender body squatting in front of yours. Only when Tashi's palms cup your face, you're met with a gentle smile and a pair of sadly creased eyes. "Want me to come to your dorm later?" 

Do you? Do you want Tashi, who's all lovey-dovey with her boyfriend who has just come all the way from the other side of the States to visit and spend time with her because he loves her, to come and visit the gentle comfort of your dorm to fuck you with her fingers? Do you want to be someone who'll Tashi cheat on her boyfriend with, the knife that cuts the family portrait in half and separates two people? Do you want the woman you love to make you feel good once again only to leave in the middle of the night because she can't love you the way you want to be loved?

"No." you shake your head.

"Okay." she responds with the same softness, leaning in to press a tender kiss on your forehead. Without anything further to say, she gets up and disappears in the dorm room again, leaving you all alone, sitting on the cold, dirty floor like a pile of affliction. 

[faggotmox]

Show You How To Do This

Fandom: All Elite Wrestling (AEW) Rating: Explicit Characters: Jon Moxley, Claudio Castagnoli, (background) Bryan Danielson, Wheeler Yuta, Blackpool Combat Club, BCC Relationships: Jon Moxley/Claudio Castagnoli, background BCC Polycule Summary: Claudio shaves Mox's head before their match in Mexico. Word Count: 1,847 Writer's Notes: Shout out to @di0brando for proof reading/editing. You're the best. Yes, I know Yuta wasn't there but I pretend the whole BCC travels together like a weird version of Stark Tower in Marvel.

-> link to ao3

Show You How To Do This

"Damn it." Mox grunted as he dropped the clippers in his hand again, hunched over the hotel bathroom sink.

"You know," Claudio spoke up from the door that was supposed to be closed. "I could always help with that."

"Hey!" Mox glared at the reflection of his teammate. "I told everyone to stay the fuck out."

"I know." Claudio nodded along. "I got Bryan and Yuta to go for a run."

"You did?" Mox glanced behind the large man in his doorway.

"Yes, I did." Claudio crossed his arms over his chest. "Will you let me help you now?"

It wasn't that Mox was an insecure person, he didn't think his guys would suddenly think he was ugly without the little hair he kept. Mostly Mox just didn't like to change his appearance, and finally committing to the bald look was a pretty big change for him. Even if there wasn’t much hair left to remove. Mox knew he was sexy with or without hair, he just needed some time to adjust before everyone else got to see. He was the same with his tattoos as well, never telling people he was getting one and just letting himself adjust to it before the world got to have their opinion.

"…Sure." Mox let his shoulders slump. "It's the mirror. I can't figure out what way to go, you know?"

"Trust me, I know." Claudio smiled as he came further into the bathroom, letting the door close behind him despite being alone in the hotel. "Thank you for allowing me to help you."

"I should've just asked. I wanted to, but…" Mox gave a shrug.

"You do not like the change, I can understand that. You've never been keen on changing how you look." Claudio reiterated the thoughts that had flown through Mox's mind just moments before.

"You want me to sit or something?" Mox motioned to the closed toilet or the edge of the bath.

"No, it's alright. I'm tall enough." Claudio grinned at the annoyed look that got him. "I want to show you how to do this as well."

"Cool. Thanks." Mox smiled just a little into the mirror at Claudio.

It wasn't going to be a long process. Claudio started by explaining how the clippers worked before taking off all of Mox's fringe and then smoothing out the short fade. More hair fell away than Mox really expected as Claudio showed him which direction to run the clippers for the cleanest cut. The easy way Claudio fell into showing him made Mox feel more comfortable, more at ease. The large man had that effect on him more often than not.

The last of the length was cut away so Mox only had peach fuzz left.

"I'll get you an electric razor like mine to make this part easier, but…" Claudio couldn't help laughing at the fact Mox just had a safety razor. "You would have nicked yourself, darling."

"Shut up." Mox turned red. "I already did." He pointed to a little cut at the edge near his ear where he had clearly just tried and failed.

"Here. We'll use this instead." Claudio pulled out his dopp kit from near the sink to get out his straight razor and shaving cream.

"Have you been planning this?" Mox narrowed his eyes at the razor. "You don't cut your beard with a razor and you use the fancy waterproof one on your head in the shower."

"I may have noticed some things and decided to carry these around in case you asked for my help." Claudio at least looked abashed by being caught.

"Uh-huh." Mox turned to look directly up at Claudio. "You've been thinking about shaving me?"

"I-- you--" Claudio got flustered and had to look away.

"Is this the same reason why you talked Bryan and Wheeler into letting you groom their beards before shows, and do Bryan's braids?" Mox pressed himself slightly closer, even though there wasn't enough room.

"I simply know what I'm doing, and want to help." Claudio was turning a little red as Mox put his hand on the back of the larger man's neck.

"You always just wanna help, big guy." Mox's voice dropped slightly and Claudio pushed him up against the counter. "I think it's pretty hot when you do that shit."

"Jon…" Claudio sighed as he leaned into the other, his lips ghosting over Mox's ear as he tried to compose himself a little. "We need to finish."

"Think you can wait that long, Swiss?" Mox nipped at the underside of the chiseled jaw of Claudio.

"Stop trying to distract me." Claudio groaned as he worked to spin Mox back around.

"Fine, fine. Hurry up." Mox grumbled as he let himself be turned.

The shaving cream was applied lightly over Mox's head. The sensual feeling was a surprise to Mox. Maybe this was why Bryan and Yuta always seemed centered after Claudio groomed them. A shiver ran through Mox as he thought of it like that. Claudio was grooming them. The way Claudio made a lot of their gear, or at the very least tailored it, or how he always cooked for them, and helped them train. There was always a service Claudio provided them with an expert level of awareness.

"So, you always known you had a grooming fetish?" Mox held still but laughed at the incredulous look that earned him.

"Have you always known you were a brat?" Claudio shot back much to Mox's glee.

"Yeah, actually." Mox looked even more smug now as Claudio cleared the back of his head with slow, gentle, efficient strokes of the razor.

"Can you be patient for a few more minutes while I finish?" Claudio rolled his eyes as he moved onto the sides.

"Yes, daddy, I can." Mox's voice dripped sweet sarcasm.

"You're impossible."

The rest didn't take long. A few clean sweeps over the top. A couple touch ups. They were done. Mox blinked at himself in the mirror, reaching up to touch his scalp. It wasn't bad, he realized. It looked nice thanks to Claudio's careful touch. Mox had been terrified of obliterating part of his beard. There weren't any rough patches either. He let out a huge sigh of relief that he didn't realize he was holding in.

"You look good, Jon." Claudio smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of Mox's now-bald head.

"Thanks to you. I'd have missed patches and cut myself." Mox grinned as he rubbed along the side.

"You'll learn." Claudio nudged him.

"Maybe, but I'd rather you do it." Mox smiled at the excitement that got from Claudio.

"You're very sweet sometimes." Claudio took Mox by the hand and pulled him towards the shower. "I know you must be itchy."

"Fuck yeah, I'm itchy." Mox groaned dramatically as Claudio turned the shower on.

"Let's get you cleaned off." Claudio agreed.

They made quick work of what little clothes they had on before popping into the shower. Claudio was quick to press Mox up against the wall as the warm water cascaded down their bodies. The soft little moans Mox always made when he was being manhandled turned into full blown groans as Claudio worked two fingers into him. Thankfully, they kept a stash of lube in the shower. Claudio's teeth found the webbing of Mox's shoulder and neck and decided to leave some marks there. A claim of sorts.

"Fuck, fuck. Claudio, I swear to god, if you're teasing me--" Mox grunted as he pushed on the wall to add more pressure against Claudio's fingers.

"I'm not." Claudio mumbled against his skin as a third finger slipped in to make Mox howl. "Shh, relax."

"Can't fuckin' relax when you just spent thirty minutes grooming me and shit." Mox sighed again as Claudio slipped three fingers in and out of him. "God damn. That feels so fucking good, man."

"Jon." Claudio's warning tone, like he might snap if Mox kept it up. So of course Mox kept it up.

"You're fucking sexy as hell standing over me, shaving me and making sure I look good." Mox grinned to himself as he felt Claudio move his leg, making him put a foot up on the corner edge of the shower. "Fuck yeah."

"If you ever want your chest hair gone again…" Claudio wrapped an arm around Mox to run his fingers through said chest hair as the other hand lined himself up with Mox's hole and started to push in.

"Fuck!" Mox yelled out as he felt himself being filled.

There was almost no way to shut Mox up when he was really into something unless you gagged him. Considering it was the middle of the day in their hotel, Claudio decided not to care much, and started to thrust into the smaller man with a lot more force. The increased volume from Mox only spurred Claudio on, his thrusts staying annoyingly in rhythm when Mox tried to get him to speed up.

"Stay still." Claudio growled. "You'll slip."

"Fuck me harder then!" Mox had both hands trying to grip onto the unforgiving wall, face pressed against the cool tile as he was thoroughly fucked.

Claudio shifted his stance, using the tub walls to brace against as he focused on harder, more direct thrusts that made Mox go insane. The man was practically melting in Claudio's arms. They were both so close. Claudio could feel the urgent squeeze of Mox's inner walls. One of Mox's hands was grabbed and shoved between the wall and his body, signaling for him to start jerking himself off while Claudio held them up.

"Fuck, yes, keep going! That's it." Mox cried out and threw his head back as he came all over the shower wall with only a few tugs.

Claudio stilled, cursing to himself in his own language as he rode out Mox's orgasm with him. If he kept going he knew he'd come too, and he knew Mox loved being fucked after he got his. As Mox went boneless, Claudio shifted them to face the wall with the shower head, he pushed at Mox's shoulders until he bent over with his hands braced on the wall.

"Wider." Claudio pushed the other's legs apart until they were against the walls of the tub. "There. Hold on."

"To fuckin' what?"

Instead of answering, Claudio gripped Mox's hips and started to amp back up to a rough pace. The low whine from Mox set Claudio on edge as he sped up his thrusts. There was no holding back anymore as Claudio got closer and Mox got louder. Claudio finally came with a heavy moan, fully bottomed out in Mox, spilling into him as they both gasped heavy breathes.

"Fuck." Mox felt himself being pulled up to standing as the water ran down his front.

"Fuck." Claudio mumbled in agreement as he came down slowly. "Okay, we should actually wash up before the others get back.”

"Jeez. Give a guy a minute." Mox grunted as he found his footing in the shower.

"You never need a minute." Claudio scoffed.

[bloodsalted]

𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐓 𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑. REPOST DO NOT REBLOG !!

NAME : dixon. been going by it for too long to change it. thought about it a couple times but it's stuck with me for a handful of years now. oop! also not my real name.

PRONOUNS : she/her/numbnuts/idc!

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION : i lose track of tumblr ims very easily. discord is preferred and i will give it to any mutual that might want it!

NAME OF MUSE(S) : dean winchester is my main. i have jack kline @lasthymn and a human oc that gets demon possessed kinda dual muse at @unscriptured . my multi is low activity atm and i'm just replying to what i got at the moment. my spn brainrot is very real.

BEST EXPERIENCE : meeting all the people i have here and enjoying our time together. hanging out with @hostiae / @devourcr at eccc. generally, just the experience of meeting such lovely, awesome partners that become friends and people i cherish. even if we don't speak often. i really do adore the people who i get to share this lil orbit with.

RP PET PEEVES / DEALBREAKERS : not reading my rules. becomes obvious when you don't. especially with a couple character or plot types i list that i don't feel comfortable writing and they get pushed on me. always read rules so you start out on a good page. it's so important! using roleplay to make yourself seem better than others. whether that be that you're more virtuous than them (as my buddy ava said) because they write things you don't like (rant to a bud, get your feelers out, block and move on??) or way more hip, progressive or whatever for plots you do or won't do or fcs or graphics you use. we're all just here writing. it's not that serious. have fun with it. curate your experience. screw anon button on. you'll be way less stressed. and a tiny one. refollowing on repeat. but that just gets a block eventually. and super easy to handle.

MUSE PREFERENCES : flawed heroes, burdened souls that are good people deep down, the distant person that has walls because of self-preservation, kind souls that've been burned too many times that they are cautious to warm up to others. misunderstood, thoughtful types. characters that still need to learn themselves and grow. on the complete opposite side? completely unhinged psychopaths, sociopaths, whatever else that falls under that line.

PLOTS OR MEMES : ava said this really well. memes are the easiest way to get my attention. i don't mind sending them in. or having them sent (though rn my inbox is a little big but i'm working on it, might just take me some time!). and then from there as we build up, if we match well, plotting is something i LOVE to do. i get that some don't though and i'm always more than fine winging it to see what happens. pretty flexible. but i really do love things that stick between muses.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES : i write a lot most of the time. usually on accident. sometimes i get carried away and am enjoying myself. i, in no way, expect replies to match length and i mean it. i just need smth to work with. i've been keeping some posts purposefully shorter. especially meme replies as i work through my inbox. we can expand or shrink as needed!

BEST TIME TO WRITE : usually really late at night. i'm a night owl with insomnia and, as much as sarah threatens to beat me with a chair? i find sleep difficult. writing helps that!

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S) : i don't know? i'm probably more like dean than i am any of them. but i try to make better choices that won't end up with me getting hurt. though there are people i'd let the apocalypse happen to save. some people are just that important. sorry world. if we're going down. we're going down together at least? dean and i have very very similar music tastes. though some of my stuff would be thrown out the window. we both have stupid humor. we're loyal. i do like my jeans, t-shirts and flannels. but we are VERY different in many ways. or it'd be boring to write someone just like me.

TAGGED BY: @murderdeals TAGGING: anyone who follows me! i'd love to know more about you! tag me so i can read! and this means...YOU'RE IT!

[remyfire]

It sure was Flootz's! Love Is a Sacrament, and god that's another I've reread several times because I just LOVE the dynamic at play there. It also hits so many of my "interests", so to say, and truly is such a good showing for that ship. I also love that even though it's a modern AU, they're still written exactly the same, just with the added bonus of actually being married.

And y e s I can definitely see that! I need BJ to confront the parts of himself he doesn't want to acknowledge the existence of, please and thanks. I know there have got to be things he represses and ignores, and I'm sure Sidney can tell too, but BJ never lets him get close enough to figure out what those things are. But BJ babygirl sometimes you have to talk it out! And truly if you wrote more fics of them I would read every single one.

I could definitely tell something was up in that scene in Eye for a Tooth too, Margaret may get fed up with these boys but she's not outright cruel or vengeful. I was so interested to see where it was going, and BJ's reaction did not disappoint. Admittedly I don't really ship them however I absolutely respect that rarepair, and even platonically I can sooo appreciate that care and softness he showed her! It was all acting and she was in on the plan but it's still so clear that BJ wanted to make absolutely certain she was okay the whole time and god just what a man. Everything he does is underscored with so much love and I love the little moments we can see it like that hand hold and check in!

As for Mulcahy, I definitely see your point about the wanting recognition vs the Catholic teaching of selfless help. I also thought it was interesting that the immediate next episode was Dear Sis, where we see Mulcahy struggling again with feeling useless and unrecognized in the unit. I loved Hawkeye's talk with him and trying to show him he was wanted, I think he really deserved that. And as a former Catholic myself, I find the idea of the dismantling of a belief system you've followed your entire life soooo interesting. And the fact that Mulcahy has managed to hold onto his beliefs for so much of the war tells me that any questioning he does would be painful and long-felt, and that just makes it even better. Any introspection with him would be fascinating and would take so long to dive into, like you said, but damn it if I'm not having some thoughts of my own.

(God bless the MASH writers who decided to give us shower scenes in literally any of the episodes they appear in. Also that chopper pilot is correct, because I too want to blow Mulcahy's back out. I think he deserves it.)

And P.S. please don't apologize for the length or rambling! As you can see, I'm fully able to match your energy in that regard. I love getting the peeks into other peoples' minds like this and also writing obnoxious character studies in tumblr ask boxes. So ramble away!

It's always interesting to see what transposes well into a modern verse and what doesn't carry through, right? I respect authors that can make it work for them so easily because I struggle sometimes to really manifest ideas of what would be the modern equivalent of being trapped in a very small area with a very small group of people to essentially evolve the characters into the ones we come to know and love. Like, they are not the same people when they get there as the ones who leave, and the majority of the reason they become who they are is due to the stress, the constant psychic damage of it all.

I realize ofc this is the autism of it all, really, me making things overly complicated for myself as an author ���� But it's fine

That being said, justalittlegreen did it in a way I really enjoyed with her "A Full, Rich Day," which is BJ/Hawk/Trap and setting them in a modern verse where they're all in residency together, and having the frantic and sometimes incredibly heavy/grief-stricken moments really pulled it all together for me in a way that just hit. So I'm always turning thoughts like that over and over in my head to figure out what might finally inspire me to possibly try something similar one day in my own work.

(also please, don't worry, you don't have to tell me you don't ship BJ and Margaret. I am the captain of their canoe with roughly four other individuals as passengers, just paddling our way through the ocean. I assume that no one else ships them, trust me 😂 )

If you're not careful, though, you're gonna get me talking about just the sheer husband-coded nature of BJ and how he is constantly looking for ways to microdose on that aspect of himself while being so far away from Peg. It kills me. Man is out here carrying Margaret around any chance he gets, being so respectfully tactile with the nurses—a hand on the shoulder or the arm—his instinct to check in on them when he can tell something's wrong. Like, YES, so much of it is that he is genuinely an incredibly good man, but it's such an interesting part of his character to me, how often he'll go out of his way to do these things and genuinely seeming to get a degree of personal fulfillment out of it, bless his heart.

I am fighting tooth and nail to hold Mulcahy back in my brain right now. Lovely, sweet man, genuinely misguided in many circumstances, fully aware of a lot of the pain that he brings by nature of being a Catholic priest (I have a lot of thoughts about it regarding the S8 episode "Yessir, That's Our Baby" that are always trying to bubble over, so lemme know if you have some yourself when you get there haha) and yet still so keen on his mission all the same, whether it's compassion or conversion. And Dear Sis, fucking Christ, what a whammy of an episode. That conversation between him and Hawk in it lives rent free in my head. God. Did you know this is a good show? /lh

[sheliesshattered]

It feels like ages since I last posted an update for my Rhaenyra cosplay for Dragon Con 2023, but the last four weeks has been nothing but attaching the narrow trim to the seamlines of the overdress -- a tedious and fiddly process that had to be done by hand, and the trim had to be sewn down on both sides despite how narrow it is. I made good progress on it day to day, but the pictures were rather boring and similar week to week.

The nine vertical seams that have trim (no trim at center back, per the screen-used costume) come to a total of 447 inches. Sewing down each edge of the trim doubles that to 894 inches, or just under 25 yards of handsewing just to get the trim attached. At 7 or 8 stitches per inch, I figure that's something like 7000 itty bitty invisible stitches. Plus another two yards or so for basting the center front trim to make sure it was really centered once sewn down.

No wonder it took me four weeks, lol.

I still need to put the narrow trim on the edges of the sleeves, and I might get started on that today while watching Fourth of July movies (Independence Day and Hamilton at a minimum, maybe a few others), at least do the ironing to curve the trim slightly and baste it in place if nothing else. We're going to a friend's place for dinner and fireworks tonight, and while I certainly don't want to haul the entire (silk!) dress out of the house with me, taking one or both sleeves to sew on the ~30 minute drive over might not be a bad idea.

Besides getting going on the sleeve trim, now that the narrow trim is finished on the dress itself I've also been able to shift gears and start focusing on the wide neckline trim. I did a whole series of pinned tests to figure out what I wanted the center front to look like, how to make the pattern come together in the most visually pleasing way, and Jack helped me pick out the best option. Yesterday I trimmed the first two pieces to length and carefully handsewed the center front seam so the pattern matches up exactly:

The raw edges are currently just tucked under and pinned, and I need to figure out how much extra I want to leave -- enough so it won't fray or unravel, but not so much that the center front is weirdly puffy or stiff. This trim is at least partially polyester so I have been able to singe the cut edges to keep everything in place. I might be able to carefully do that on the center front edges, too.

After thinking about it overnight, I think I'm going to do this same treatment at center back, that mirroring of the pattern, and then just let the shoulder seams be whatever. The wig will mostly cover the center back, but eh I'd rather have the symmetry there.

So the next major task is getting all this neckline trim cut and placed, handsewn to the neckline of the dress and frayed ends all tucked safely away. It's going to be a bit tedious, especially at the shoulder seams, but hopefully it won't take me weeks and weeks like the narrow trim did!

Getting that wide trim in place is the last thing blocking getting the grommets in, so I'll be heading straight into that once the trim is even just mostly applied. There are things like the hem and the question of needing a modesty panel at center back that I can't even start on until I can lace the whole dress closed. And if it comes right down to it, I can cut corners on things like beading and the styling of the wig, or sewing a little bag to carry my stuff in. But the dress absolutely must have closures, or it's not really a dress, lol.

Given that, I think the order of operations is more or less: neckline trim, then grommets at center back and armscye/top of sleeve. Then hooks and eyes at the wrists, and a hem for the dress. Wig styling is probably the next highest priority, then the bag to carry stuff with me since the dress has no pockets. Then finishing the underdress, sewing on the large beads at waist and wrists, and then the tiny beads over the neckline trim. I've got one or two little adjustments to do to the jewelry that should probably come before the little seed beads on the neckline, but hopefully I'll be able to get to all of it in the next 8 weeks (!!) until I need to pack for Dragon Con.

I've also gathered basically all the components for my Harley Quinn cosplay, just waiting on one length of lining fabric to arrive -- but I'll talk all about that in its own post sometime soon here.

Eight weeks feels like hardly any time at all, especially given that I spent the last four weeks on what ended up being just one check mark on my rather long to-do list. But I am thrilled with how the dress is looking, and the narrow trim was definitely worth doing. It makes the dress look so much more like the screen-used costume.

Hokay. Time for movies and sewing. Here's hoping I can get through that to-do list in the next 58 days!

[snowlupinwoodstories]

On The Slopes

My first paid commission! So sit down and read about how this lovely Lynx and Oriental Shorthaired couple got together!

(Art done by katarinalin, title added by me with help of @vigoburrito)

Maisie, a gray-tone lavender oriental shorthair and with coral contrasting hair pulled her scarf further over her blue gray-toned dark muzzle. Why she’d let Misty, her silver fox extrovert of a best friend, drag her out to a frigid snow covered mountain in the middle of winter she’d never understand. She’d bundled up in so many layers she felt like she was starfishing; an awkward body posture for the already clumsy cat. The black snow pants contrasted with the dark puffy green coat that Misty had insisted Maisie rent. The coat had zipper openings for her wings, but Maisie kept them closed, wanting to stay as warm as possible against the icy wind. Her tail had a bright green knit tail cosy, allowing the white tip of her tail to be exposed. 

She balanced precariously on the soles of the ski boots that Misty had rented for her, the slipperiness of the pact snow causing her tail to twitch and sway as she kept herself from falling. Misty shuffled up to her, carrying a set of skis, carefully shuffling on her own pair. “Here!” She set them down with a clatter on the snow, adjusting them so they were in front of her friend. “Step in so we can get to the bunny hill! I don’t want to be late for the lesson.”

“On second thought,” Maisie pleaded as she lifted up a leg, tentatively placing it on the ski while correcting a major side wobble, “Maybe I should go inside and you can join me after? I mean I don’t think I’m really cut out-”

“Stop being such a worry wart!” Misty cut in, bending down carefully to push Maisie's boot into the ski, connecting it with a distinct set of clicks. “A bunny hill is easy and we’re getting there right after they’ve finished grooming it. You’ll be fine!”

Now strapped into one ski Maisie felt even more unbalanced than before. She had to reach out and put her hand on Misty’s shoulder to give her enough balance to click the second ski into place. Having the two skis cut into the snow helped her feel a little more stable, but the weight of the boots and skis were still awkward. Watching Misty shuffle ahead of her she attempted to follow. 

The slight decline on the way to the bunny hill and her awkwardness led to her falling backwards in a few steps, landing on the pact snow with an “Oof!” The extra layers prevented it from actually hurting, but it still surprised her how fast the ground came up to meet her. 

Misty sighed, turned around and reached down to help Maisie up. “Remember, don't lean back! You need to keep your body centered,” she scolded, pulling the cat back onto her feet. 

The pair slowly shuffled their way to a hill beside the ski lodge; this early in the day it hadn’t attracted as many skiers. A black and cobalt lynx with a matching snowsuit was waiting near the top of the hill. His suit and coloring stood out against the white powdery snow. 

“Misty and Maisie?” he asked as they approached him, Maisie still struggling to shuffle over to him. 

“That’s us!” Misty proclaimed, speeding her shuffling over to the lynx.

He smiled at the two, “Good we can get started right away!” He said as he moved with his side to the hill, standing between them and the slope. “My name is Cobalt, and I’m your instructor here at Powder Falls. First we’re going to go over your stances. Proper stance will help you balance and stop you from eating powder.” 

He looked over the two, reminding Misty to bend her knees so her weight was more evenly distributed but kept forward, rather than the leaning forward she’d been doing earlier. He took longer to help Maisie, who needed instruction on the right bend in the knee and weight placement. Her balance still wobbly, he frowned before asking, “Do you have any extra limbs or other things you do for balance? Or do you have the right length of skis? I’d like to have you more confident at a stop before we start moving.”

Maisie tilted her head, before looking away shyly. She wasn’t really sure how to answer his question. She had small wings but they weren’t that helpful and she was always clumsy anyways. Maybe he’d suggest she go back to the lodge and she wouldn’t embarrass herself trying to ski. 

 “She’s got wings on her lower back,” Misty answered for her. 

Cobalt looked at her zipped up sides and said “ I think you’ll find your balance will be easier if your body is less restricted. Do you mind if I open the sides?” He shuffled around her and, after she nodded, pulled the zipper down on one side and then the other. Maisie was surprised that she didn’t feel any colder despite the openings. The padding in the coat created a seal even with the zippers open. “Try letting your wings act normally,” he encouraged.

Using her poles to hold herself steady she flexed her wings experimentally, pushing them out of the coat. The air was chilly, but her feathers were warm, and she instantly felt a change in her balance as they adjusted to her shifting weight.

“Much better!” Cobalt praised moving back in front of the two friends. “Now this slope is meant to be taken at a slow pace, to get your snow chops going. So we’re going to pizza slice it. 

“Take your toes and point them into each-other. Don’t cross your skis, or else you’ll find yourself tripping over yourself,” He nodded at Misty as she adjusted her stance, and waited while Maisie shuffled her toes inside. “Perfect. Now we’re going to go down together. Don’t straighten your skis out, we want to take this nice and slow. When you get close to the bottom, twist your hips to the right to help you come to a stop, okay? Let’s try it.”

He moved out their way, Misty immediately pushing herself forward using her poles sliding down the hill with the ease of someone who had more experience with winter sports. Maise on the other hand gripped her poles tighter, nervous to even try to push off. 

“Nervous?” Cobalt asked. After seeing her nod he continued, “That’s okay, most everyone is their first time. Here I’ll stay right beside you, I’ll match your pace,” He tilted his skis inwards, “Count to three and we’ll push off.”

Maisie took a deep breath, and then another. She really was nervous of making a fool of herself. Misty was already looking back expectantly from the bottom of the hill. She had promised that she’d at least try. “One…….two……,” She noticed Cobalt wasn’t looking at her, and she felt herself relax. She really could go at her own pace. Before she could chicken out she let herself say, “Three,” and she pushed off with her poles. 

She slowly began to move down the hill, and though she did gain speed it wasn’t as fast as she feared. Cobalt was right next to her the whole way down, “That’s it! You’re a natural, just keep it nice and steady. Don’t break the pizza.”

As she reached the bottom Maisie turned her hips hard to the right and found her skis going out from under her. “AHH!” she exclaimed as she hit a mound of powdery snow that hadn’t been there a moment before. The snow propped her up so her skis were easy to set on the ground, and she wasn’t splayed out like she’d feared. She gasped as she saw the snow flurry from Cobalt’s paw wind down. 

Cobalt wiped his paws on his coat, removing the extra snow he’d summoned to help cushion her fall. “You alright there?” He asked, as he offered her his hand. “Turning and stopping are hard, and you looked like you were trying to carve around a mound there.”

He pulled her up, helping her stand perpendicular to the rest of the hill so she wouldn’t keep sliding. “That was an amazing first attempt though! After one more straight, I'll teach you some turns.”

Maisie’s face was flushing from more than the cold. She did well? That seemed like a first. But Cobalt was genuine, and even helped her over to the carpet lift. At the top of the hill he talked her through how to better turn on her skis. The next run they practiced turning slightly back and forth, serpentining down the shallow bunny hill. After a few more tries of that Cobalt encouraged them to try the next step up, a slightly steeper hill that required a ski lift to get to. Maisie found that her nerves of trying the lift seemed to melt away when Cobalt offered to ride beside her. 

—-

The lesson ran long, in fact Cobalt admitted that since he didn’t have other classes after them and he was having so much fun teaching them he just didn’t tell them when the lesson time elapsed. After skiing until the cold set in, and an incidental snowball fight, they headed indoors for some warmth and hot chocolate with marshmallows. The perfect mid skiing break. 

“That was amazing how you caught us when we fell,” Maisie gushed, having become more comfortable with Cobalt throughout the day. “What’s someone with ice magic doing teaching skiing?”

Cobalt chuckled, “Honestly I get to ski for free as long as I’m an instructor here. You can’t beat free, and the pay’s not bad. I get paid per class so I can earn as much as I need to when I need to. I also get the benefit of meeting some pretty fun people, Miss Curveball.”

Maisie's face reddened as she remembered the snow ball she’d thrown that’d whipped back around and hit the Lynx in the face, “I swear I was aiming for Misty.”

“You’ll have to spend more time in the snow to best me,” the silver fox quipped, a dollop of whip cream on her nose, “I am the undisputed snowball champion. No one has ever bested me in a snowball fight.”

Her boasting was met with a face full of snow, tossed from Cobalt’s paw. The sight of her friend’s face being covered in the freezing white powdery snow while indoors caused Maisie and Cobalt to burst out laughing. Misty frowned before shaking her head back and forth, sending the snow flying further. “Doesn’t count there’s no snow here to make a proper snow ball fight! You cheated with your magic.”

“I don’t know,” Maisie said with a giggle, “What about the time you ‘won’ by bringing a gallon baggie of snow and dumping it over my head while I was asleep?”

Misty frowned, “Still I had to gather the snow. I didn’t just magic it out of thin air,” she grumpily sipped her hot chocolate, her fur on her face still soaked from the snowball. 

“So what do you do when you’re not skiing?” Maisie asked, turning her attention away from her sulking friend. 

“Mostly chill at home, play fortnite,” Cobalt nonchalantly shared. 

“Fortnite? You?” Maisie pushed. Fortnite seemed outside of what she’d thought he’d do. She’d pegged him as a jock, not a video game nerd.

“Yeah, it's cool! You battle a bunch of people on an ever shrinking map and they do a whole bunch of collabs. Like I’ve gotten characters from The Last Windrider and Nine-Tailed Ninja. I think they’re also working on a Mesozoic Zoo one at the moment. They’ve been dropping hints,” He paused looking up as he thought. 

“You know,” Maisie shared, “I haven’t played it. But maybe I should give it a shot.”

“Really? I’ll give you my friend code. I’ll show you the ropes!” Cobalt shared.

“Once you show her she’s going to outshine you,” Misty cautioned him. “I hope you never have to play against her once she learns your game because you won’t be able to beat her.”

----

Thank you zephyr.ventus for the commisson!

[mcnstros]

as difficult as it was to muster up the courage to confess to anita, they felt a great weight lift from their shoulders soon after those words left their lips. though they are worried she wouldn’t feel the same, it felt good to tell her. even if she doesn’t feel the same way about them, it doesn’t hurt to get their feelings out, right? that way sorun couldn’t say that they didn’t at least try. it always feels good to try, even if the end result isn’t what they might hope for.

they do hope that anita feels the same.

sorun watches as she struggles for a moment, noting how much of an anxious, stressed mess she had suddenly become, pacing about, muttering to herself, and those weirdly cute sounds she was making. they wonder if they should’ve just said it when she came here. it’s easy to let your thoughts run wild when someone takes their time to voice what they want to say. still, the demon waits patiently, waiting until she can articulate her thoughts and voice those thoughts. once anita does speak, they can’t help but offer an amused, lopsided grin.

and then they feel anita’s hand find its way into one of theirs. it was warm. it trembled slightly, but they assume it’s just her nerves. it felt… good to hold it. surprisingly good. truth be told, sorun had only ever wondered how it would be to hold someone’s hand, then that someone became anita, and now… they glance down. it’s really there. they give it a gentle squeeze to reassure themself that it really is there. this isn’t some strange dream. a soft, almost inaudible chuckle leaves sorun as their heart flutters in their chest.

sorun glances up at her features when she says it. those four little words. who knew those four little words strung together in such a way could mean so much? sorun’s smile grows.    “ i hope you will forgive me for being such an annoyance to you, then. “    they tease gently, giving anita’s hand a squeeze again. gods, they just can’t stop thinking about how good it feels to hold her hand!

“ first, i truly am glad that my being a demon does not truly matter in the sense that… well, you do not think i am a monster. at least i most certainly hope you do not think that! if you did, i would assume that you would have left the moment you learned of what i was. second, i can say that, no, i have not hit my head or anything. “    that anita thought that was a little amusing and it made sorun laugh again.    “ i will not pull this out from under you, anita. i promise that i do indeed like you and that my feelings for you are real. “    they wonder if someone has ever done that to her before, told her that they like her only to immediately take it back after playing upon her feelings. they would never!

“ i… i suppose this does mean that we are dating now. “    they can’t help but find it cute that she’s so flustered. their own cheeks are flushed and warm, but they don’t mind also being so flustered, not if it’s in front of anita. sorun isn’t very experienced with relationships (not with her being their first in that aspect) but they promise to give her the world.    “ i know it is late now, almost midnight i believe, but… i think i know where we could have our very first date. tomorrow, of course, or whenever it is we are both free again. “    a soft laugh leaves them, smile growing a little more. they speak again, voice a little softer.    “ do you remember when we first met? it was in front of that movie theater. that was the day you gave me a nickname, shaggy. i thought it strange at first but it immediately grew on me and i fell in love with it. “    who would’ve thought that they would soon fall for the woman that gave it to them?    “ that was also the day i gave you a spin on my motorcycle to go get snacks from the nearest gas station and smuggle them into the theater. i paid for them and you paid for the tickets and we watched a few movies. i had a lot of fun that day. “    certainly more fun than sorun had had in a while.    “ i think that would be a nice first date, no? unless you had something in mind, of course. “

@xamassed​    /    cont. from here.

[maxskulline]

Plotted starter with @mononezu

Max is used to the endlessness of things. The relentless rain of Po Town, chipping away at the softened, red bricks of their houses until it could pour freely through the holes it left in its wake, has bothered her on very few occasions. You cannot be spoiled for choice when you’re a survivor - and Max has mastered survival to near perfection. She is adaptable, and because she’s adaptable she can be ignorant to the endless snow of Chirchester, or the way her fingers ache in the cold whenever a gig has come to an end. 

Sometimes she even finds comfort in those endless, vast things. Her life changed too rapidly, too drastically, and now she needs to take a breath and figure out where the road will take her next. 

Music’s always been a life line and from the moment Max had picked up a guitar, she finally felt like she had found something to claim her own. Entirely hers, something no one could take from her - a skill. A talent, even, because it takes more than handling an instrument to understand music on a deeper level. It speaks to her in a language Max can grasp, and it fills her mind with melodies and tunes and rhythms. At first she grew very frustrated that she couldn’t match a single word to these sounds, but once she taught herself how to read and how to write, the last piece of her puzzle fell in place as well. It was a ponderous start - her very first, self-written songs sounded clumsy and unfinished, like raw and unpolished ore. But they were hers. She made the songs with the damaged pieces of her heart and she loved them even if no one ever got to hear them. 

The songs Max plays on the streets of Chirchester are more refined. A handpicked choice of 7 songs, upbeat and melancholic and angry, lyrics that resonate with other people, too - that’s why the crowd is picking up with every time Max sets up in the Center of this snow-kissed town. Word spreads fast in such a small town, but she really isn’t doing it for the clout or for the money. This? It is hers. She’d play even if no one paid for it.

And so another gig comes to an end tonight. Heavy snowclouds cast a pink hue across the glittering roof-tops, a sunset many tourists happily brace the cold for. She bows her head when the gathering crowd claps, and thanks everyone personally if they come forward to fill Mr. Rimes’ hat with Pokédollars. But, when she raises her head she will find that tonight’s going to turn out a little different - because she’s almost face to face with the duly familiar coordination of black and white and hot pink, colours that freeze her in place for more than one reason. Black and white is a combination Max has not moved on from yet, the resemblance is too close. 

If her cheeks were flushed due to icy temperatures before, they’re positively feverish now. This face, towering over the crowd - she recognizes it. He’s among the very few Max had bothered to ask about when he showed up on the TV. There’s not much she knows, only that he is one of Galar’s Gym leaders and that he throws out some pretty sick tunes. Latter’s the only part Max cares about, but seeing him a few feet ahead, a looming shadow among a blur of pastel and white - and, frankly, the skinniest giant she’s ever seen - feels a little surreal. Still, Max throws him a smile, because she’s honoured to know he’s stopped for her music. 

Once she’s all packed up and Mr Rime warming up in his Pokéball, Max, who notices that Piers hasn’t moved on and almost looks like he’s waiting for her, breathes in her courage through a cigarette. With the guitar shouldered and her scarf wrapped back in place, the girl marches forward, finishes her cig and shoves her freezing hands back into the deep pockets of the yellow coat. 

           “I’d say I’m a fan of your music if I didn’t know you’re hearin’ that all of the time, probably. Thanks for stoppin’ by, though. It means a lot.” 

[ryes-up]

Blood and Circuses || Rosemary & Rye

The spectacle at the tournament wasn’t unexpected, but it still wasn’t something Rye relished the way many of the other royal knights did. Rye was lucky in that regard; he wasn’t asked by Oberon to join the royal knights that faced the protesters. Some part of him wished he was, knowing the fate that would meet any who fought back against knights that cared little for their lives. But instead, he walked alongside the King and Queen, alongside Kit and Maddox, as well as the Queen’s new human, Rosemary. Kit was on one side of him when they sat, Ser Maerel on his other. The knight was the closest Rye had to a shadow such as Kit had Maddox, though the knight was as apt to disappear without a trace as Rye was, though both would return would ironclad alibis for their absences. His presence was less for the reason of Rye needing a guard, and more for appearances.

He stayed silent as the opening entertainment for the tournament began, all the voices and cheering attempting to drown out the angry cries of the protestors. The only outward sign of discomfort Rye showed was the clenched fist against his leg, his expression almost bored as he surveyed the inside of the arena. His other hand was laid over Kit’s, trying to offer some semblance of comfort in the precursor to the horrendous show they would be forced to sit through. Maerel shifted in his seat, his elbow seeming to accidentally bump into Rye’s shoulder, though he knew it was on purpose. He glanced sideways at the knight, acknowledging the silent question in the man’s eyes with barely a nod. He was fine. He could sit through this. He’d sat through worse.

Though when it came to the worst, he hadn’t been able to claim almost full credit for the gore and blood lust being put on show. This though? This was his fault. A show of force from Oberon after the tithed humans escaped. After Rye had helped them escape. He closed his eyes a moment, silently willing the protestors outside to fall silent.

Leave it alone. Just go. It’ll be worse if you don’t.

When he opened his eyes again, it looked like there was a lull in the chaos. The attempts by those working in the arena to ignore the protestors and carry on as planned seemed halted for the moment. From the look on Oberon’s face though, if the events didn’t begin soon, there would be hell to pay. Rye leaned forward a bit, looking past Oberon and Titania towards the human that sat on the Queen’s other side. As much as he wanted to stay by Kit and make sure she was alright, she had Maddox, whether she wanted him there or not, and Rosemary had quickly joined the growing list of innocent people too close to the King whom Rye felt responsible for.

Rye squeezed Kit’s hand in his, leaning over to whisper in his ear, “I need to take care of something. I’ll be back soon.” She made him promise to stay true to his word before letting go of his hand, and he stood, stepping behind their seats to reach Oberon and Titania.

“Do you really think the protestors are causing such a stir as to slow the process of the entire event?” Rye scoffed.

“They’ll be silenced soon enough,” Oberon responded, not bothering to look around at Rye.

Rye fell quiet for a moment, waiting until the ebb and flow of chaos got a bit louder again. “Was that one of the stablehands?” He asked, gesturing towards a door where a few knights were rushing out to contain the protestors. “Celestials, if those damn protestors got to the horses— I’m going to go and see.”

“Horses are replaceable,” Oberon said without much thought, though his gaze was drawn to where Rye had indicated.

“Yes, you replace yours every time you get bored with it, but Nissa was a gift, and I’d rather keep her around,” Rye said with the easy tone that he and Oberon used to tease each other with years ago. It had the desired effect, earning the faintest of smiles from the King as he finally turned to glance back at Rye.

“Ever the sentimental,” he commented, but waved dismissively towards the archway that led back into the public seating of the rest of the arena, as well as the entrance they’d come in through. “Go on, then. Don’t be long. Wouldn’t want you to miss the main event.” He turned to look over his other shoulder, gesturing wordlessly to Maerel, who stood to follow Rye.

For the first time since he joined the king and queen, Rye glanced towards Rosemary, for barely a second, before looking to Titania. “Sister, would you mind if I take your pet for a short walk with me?”

“Surely you can make the trip to the stables by yourself, brother,” Titania said, the venom in her tone hardly hidden by the toothy smile she offered him.

“Of course, but I expect Ms. Collins won’t truly get the full experience of the tournament if she remains confined to our box up here,” Rye commented.

“Oh let her go,” Oberon interrupted, his eyes still watching the knights that were filing back into the arena, some dragging protestors, others wiping blood from their daggers and swords. “She’s new to Belladonna. Best let her see what life’s truly like for those of her kind here.” He glanced back around to Rye. “Be sure to show her where the humans are being kept before the tournament, won’t you? Perhaps she’d even like to meet a couple of them.”

Rye had grown so practiced over the years with playing the parts he was meant to that even his returning laugh at Oberon’s words sounded genuine and amused. His excuses were polished enough to get by Oberon’s scrutiny, but offhanded enough to not sound too rehearsed. Even Maerel looked appropriately disgruntled at having to accompany Rye and possibly miss the beginning of the slaughter.

Finally catching Rosemary’s eye for a moment, Rye gave no indication of his intentions nor his disagreement with Oberon’s suggestion. He only nodded his head to the side in a silent invitation for her to follow him, before he turned to leave.

@briar-rosemary

[enterlilith]

 salomè  roams  carrying  foul  mood,  choking  with  the  anguished  hunt  that  takes  her  scampering  across  the  streets.    moving  more  like  marching,  sinking  steps  into  the  artificial  pathways  that  do  nothing  but  consume  her  strength  to  deal,  from  absence  of  contact  with  the  tendons  of  gaia  in  nature.    perhaps,  she  would  come  to  understand,  perhaps  this  is  appropriate:    to  have  less  strength  to  use  against  city  things  as  city  things  pale  in  comparison  to  the  raw  vigor  that  exists  in  standing  barefoot  before  all  of  creation.  in  contrast  to  the  soil,  grass,  dew  and  sap  of  the  forest,  city  things  become  dead  playthings  rolled  from  one  sharp  claw  to  another,  even  unintended,  undone  from  self-deficiency.    this  is  the  all-encompassing  balance  that  blesses  even  the  places  of  cement,  though  they  do  not  deserve  the  leverage  or  the  advantage  against  salomè.    regardless  of  natural  limitations,  every  last  ounce  of  her  primal  force,  the  sinew  of  her  tribal  constitution,  is  going  into  recovering  those  stolen  cubs.    unashamed  to  spill  from  the  eyelids,  salomè  sobs  all  angry,  wiping  tears  from  the  cheekbones  with  the  hem  of  unwanted  sleeves,  now  stained  with  saltwater  and  worry.    i  have  to  focus,  i  have  to  focus,  she  chants  trapped  in  her  distressed  disorientation,  sun-kissed  human  fingers  pulling  on  the  fine  hair  of  temples  to  help  cope.    think,  sallie,  think!    where  could  they  possibly  have  gone  to?    mistress,  where  did  they  go?    she  is  pure  pleading,  bursting  into  thick  sobbing  at  the  unconscious  vocative  for  her  godmother.    salomè  weeps  enraged  into  herself,  unapologetic  like  the  wild;    it  all  must  flow  and  be  waterfall  and  if  she  drowns,  she  drowns.    the  sentiment  is  loss.

 she  sucks  air  through  the  teeth  to  breathe  and  despite  the  polluted  city  filters  that  overwhelm,  the  distant  taste  that  she  catches  in  the  edge  of  her  tongue  is  anything  but  unfamiliar:    the  fur  of  mountain  lion  youngs.    alarmed,  salomè  snaps  back  into  ready  stance  at  once.    one,  two,  three  of  them  she  sniffs,  locking  onto  their  residual  tracks,  their  injuries  still  untreated;    entangled  with  them,  parasitic,  the  odor  that  corrupt  men  sweat.    this  proves  to  be  stimuli  and  clue  for  her  senses  because  salomè  thrusts  her  slender  body  into  running  with  absolute  intention,  traveling  against  the  fatigued  scent  wafted  from  car  movement,  clinging  to  the  track  like  it  is  last  resort;    in  this  rhythm,  thirty-seven  frantic  minutes  is  all  it  takes  to  cover  the  abysmal  distance  on  light  foot,  leaping  too  high  at  times  to  bypass  what  could  not  be  knocked  out  in  her  wake.    the  scent  of  the  fur  drives  the  werecougar  to  find  a  rundown  shed  made  obscure,  fenced  by  tall  spines  of  steel  that  she  climbs  easy,  walking  along  the  wire  to  scan  the  property  from  above  like  it  is  instinct;    and  it  is.    then,  at  long  last,  she  finds  the  source.    heaving  like  an  animal,  walking  feral  from  higher  ground,  salomè  is  consumed  by  natural  rage:    five  humans  to  tame  three  anxious  cubs,  cornering  them  into  the  backdoor,  yanked  by  inappropriate  collars.    she  snarls  and  takes  clear  impulse  to  charge  at  the  nearest  human,  cracking  the  concrete  patio  with  the  impact  of  his  heavy  body.    the  next  one  she  yanks  by  the  arm  from  his  placement,  hurling  him  hard  at  the  wall,  like  he  weighs  nothing  but  corruption.

rebelcodes  ,  sunny  :  plotted starter

[theobjectofyourire]

Being Daemon's Daughter Would Include (Part III)

a/n: hi hi hi! once again, I'm so in my feels and absolutely blown away by all the love on this series! I definitely plan to continue this well into the reader's adulthood, I'm just enjoying the baby/pregnancy stuff so much! I got a little carried away again, so you get lots of daemon/wife goodness in this one, too! lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for future parts!

Part I / Part II

summary: Daemon has always gone to any lengths to protect you, even before you were born. And oh, what gifts he will bestow...

cw: I actually don't think there are any warnings for this one! Daemon threatens violence?? other than that, it's just fluff. inspired by the scene in ep8.

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A Dragon's Custom

-In the very heart of Dragonmont, amidst sulfur and brimstone, Daemon Targaryen felt a true hero as he retrieved the dragon egg that would soon rest in his child's cradle.

-The day of your birth drawing ever nearer, your mother's belly greatly swelled. Growing larger by the day, he had teased, a comment which had been received by his lady wife with both a chuckle and a threat of violence upon his person. He expected no less from such a woman, his eyes sparkling as he knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her stomach as he whispered to you.

-"You must be brave, little one. I will soon need you to defend me from your mother's temper."

-His words earned him what was, admittedly, a rather playful slap to the back of the head. "You truly are a scoundrel, dear husband," she sighed, weaving her fingers through his silver hair.

-He merely smiled as he kissed her belly, her hands, her wrists, finally rising to meet her lips. "Your scoundrel, my love."

-She melted in the arms of her dragon, who murmured sweet nothings into her hair as he slowly ran his fingers up and down her spine, soothing her aches with his warm touch. She all but whined when he pulled away with a gentle farewell.

-"Must you go?"

-"Aye," he mumbled, lips against hers in one final kiss, "but I promise you'll be happier for it."

-"I disagree. I'd much prefer you by my side."

-"As would I, my love, but our child deserves a gift only I can bestow, and I daren't wait any longer to retrieve it." Her brows furrowed at his words, uncertain of their meaning as he caressed her belly with the back of his hand. "The child of the Rogue Prince deserves a dragon egg, do they not?"

-Your mother's eyes filled with tears. She was, of course, familiar with the Targaryen customs and had dearly hoped they would be passed to you, but she had worried, as of late, whether such a thing would be encouraged.

-Though cherished by many, not all in Viserys' court approved of your mother. The Hightowers, in particular, had been averse to the match, for while her bloodline was undeniably strong, she herself could not be considered a tame woman.

-She was well-versed in the graces, it was true, and a delight to all she entertained. In such matters, the nobles could not find an ill word to speak against her, but nor could they deny the indocility, even rakishness cast in her shadow. She had not known Daemon a fortnight when the King's own Hand had discovered them in the Dragonpit, having just returned from a moonlit ride atop Caraxes, and in the midst of acts unbefitting a woman of her station.

-Ser Otto, in fairness, was not wrong in his judgement. In their youth, your mother did little to quell Daemon's chaos. If anything, she encouraged it, thriving alongside him in his adventures. He had pleaded with the King to deny the marriage, and Viserys had half a mind to listen until he saw his brother's smile. As one, they seemed something out of Valyria itself, in all its glory, and he could not bring himself to tear them apart. He gladly consented to their union, going so far as to allow a Valyrian ceremony with only a handful of guests and the stars standing witness.

-In the months that followed, they retreated to your father's ancestral seat at Dragonstone, preferring to avoid the politics and scheming of King's Landing at all possible costs. The gods, it seemed, were not so easily satisfied.

-A raven was flown to the Red Keep shortly after your mother fell pregnant, and the news was met with no small amount of excitement. Your father's first marriage had left him without an heir, and many had presumed the Rogue Prince had little interest in furthering the line. Viserys requested his presence at court, if only to determine his brother's true thoughts about the babe.

-Daemon arrived on dragonback a few days later, descending with the impish smile well-known to him, and something warm, almost kind stirring in his eyes. There was no doubt of his happiness, a great relief to his elder brother.

-Viserys was, indeed, gladdened by the fact that they had found peace on Dragonstone, but he was eager to see them return to the Red Keep before your mother gave birth. This much, the King had insisted upon, for the Maesters and midwives of the great castle were said to be the most skillful in the realm. Daemon could deny many things, but his brother's summons was not among them.

-"We shall return, brother," he had said with a cold smile. "Upon your command, my child will be born in this nest of vipers, but never will I allow a single drop of venom to so much as graze their skin."

-"Daemon, you needn't-"

-Your father would not hear it, paying no mind that interrupting his King was easily a punishable offense. "They will have a dragon of mine own choosing," he declared, "and shall be raised as their mother and I see fit, in accordance with the customs of our ancestors."

-"As is your right." Viserys maintained the stoicism expected of him as King, but a genuine joy shone through the façade. "Your child shall want for nothing," he promised.

-"Nor shall my wife." Daemon's eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice, ensuring that none but his brother would hear his solemn vow. "Should any in your court speak so much as a word against either of them, I shall gladly cut out their tongue." Without thought, he found his fingers dancing upon the hilt of Dark Sister, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "If your dear Hand is anything less than welcoming, I will take great pleasure in relieving him of his duties by way of beheading."

-Were it anyone else, such a threat would have been followed by severe consequence, but Viserys had a soft spot for his younger brother, whose fire so much reminded him of their mother. Daemon climbed atop Caraxes, returned to Dragonstone, and no more was said on the matter.

-He did not tell your mother what was spoken, nor did she wish to hear of it. She knew well what your father's temper could do, coupled with his unyielding loyalty. Upon his heated word, you would have a dragon. She did not care for anything else. She brought his hands to her lips, kissing each knuckle before releasing him to his task, wondering which egg he would choose. In his mind, however, there was no question.

-His cousin, the Princess Rhaenys, had recently departed with her children after an extended stay on Dragonstone. Her own dragon, Meleys, had accompanied them and laid a clutch of eggs in the island's volcano, Dragonmont. It seemed the greatest of all omens, for years before his cousin had claimed Meleys, when he himself was just a babe, Daemon's mother was her dragonrider.

-Though he could scarcely remember her, he had been told by all that he was, undoubtedly, his mother's son. In her arms, to the dismay of the Maesters, she had taken him upon the back of her dragon for his first flight not a fortnight after his birth. A creature of scarlet scales and copper claws, she was one of the swiftest dragons in the realm, even after so many years of comfort. He could not think of a better gift for you than an egg from his own mother's dragon.

-The descent was not an easy one. Many had tried and failed, the slightest misstep resulting in the most fatal fall, but your father was not afraid. He relished in the danger of it. He was not halfway to the bottom when he felt the mass shift, crumbling under his boot and echoing throughout the volcano as hunks of rock hit the ground. Any other man might catch his breath or clutch his heart. Your father only chuckled as he continued to maneuver himself masterfully. Going to such lengths for a child not yet born to him, smirking in the face of risk and finding no fear in his heart, it made him feel a good man. He did not know if his talents were well-suited to fatherhood, but of this, he was certain: you would always be protected.

-Leaping to the ground, he imagined spending the rest of his days defending you, willing at every moment to vanquish any enemy with a single stroke of his sword. Though your mother was a rogue in her own right in her earlier years, she had, as of late, preferred comfort and calm to the uncertainty she had once craved. Of course, he hoped your life would be peaceful, but he wondered if that's truly what you would want, or if you would take after him, forever trying to satisfy your own impulsivity.

-There were seven eggs in Meleys' clutch. Seven eggs for seven kingdoms, Daemon could not help but think, smiling as he gathered them with care. Each were unique unto themselves, though they bore the mark of their mother. One had golden flecks reminiscent of his brother's crown. Another was as pink as a maiden's blush, but it was the seventh egg that most caught your father's eye.

-As crimson as Caraxes' scales, with dapples of a spring rose and shadows of the purest black, there was no gift so befitting the child of the Rogue Prince. He held it dearly in his hands, admiring the way it shimmered in the slight streak of sunlight. They would place it in the warming chambers until your mother gave birth, where it would then reside in your cradle until it hatched. The thought of you flying alongside him on a dragon of such striking beauty stirred in him a giddiness he had never before felt. He wondered if this was fatherhood. Could he really be so lucky?

-He returned to your mother somewhat filthy, ash smeared across his cheeks while his leathers retained the scent of the volcanic rock.

-"You stink of dragon," she said, crinkling her nose as he drew nearer.

-He gave her a wry smile as he wrapped his arms around her waist. "My darling wife," he murmured, "I know very well that you love it."

-She giggled as she brushed her lips against his, hands tangling in his hair. He smelled of adventure. Danger. Power. He was a Targaryen, through and through, and she secretly hoped you would be the same.

-She pulled away and this time, it was Daemon who moaned in protest. She merely chuckled in response. "Shall I have a bath drawn for you, husband?"

-His fingers danced across the small of her back as his eyes twinkled. "Only, my love, if you'll join me."

taglist: @rosaryos @justaproudslytherpuff @sirlovel @fulla02

[chiptaylorsfirst]

Practice Makes Perfect

Word Count: 2,005

Pairing: James McAvoy x fem!Reader

Warning: Smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), slight praise kink, some degradation

Summary: You and James have been working on a love scene for days now and haven't found a way to do it. You ask him to practice and things get very heated.

"Y/N, I need you to put more love in it, okay," the director called out. You were trying to do a love scene with James McAvoy for like the third time now. You retried again, memorizing your script and saying the words. "You don't have to leave then. In fact," James kissed you passionately and you matched it. "Nice, now pick her up." James lifted you up and carried you into a room. You tried your best to keep character but you got nervous. "Cut. Y/N, why do you look nervous?" "I am." The director sighed in disappointment. "Three hour break everyone." The amount of times this happened made you hate yourself. Everyone was sweet and patient and the director knew that it just took time. You only thought of one thing you could do. Practice always makes perfect. You tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you walked to James' trailer.

You knocked on his door and he answered. "Yeah," he said. "It's Y/N." He opened the door and you saw him standing there shirtless. You felt a blush creep onto your cheeks and you looked at him. "Sorry, caught me off guard." He chuckled lightly. "It's okay. There's no need to apologize. What did you need?" You walked in his trailer and he closed the door behind you. "I was wondering if we could practice the love scene together. It's been so stressful for me and I just can't seem to get it right." He nodded quietly. "Sure. I don't mind." "Okay," you whispered out. You walked over to him, getting in character. "I would love to stay but my father insists I go back home and you know how he is. He doesn't approve of us, you understand?" "You don't have to leave then. In fact," James kissed you. You allowed yourself to relax into the kiss as you gently pulled his hair.

You bit his lip and you heard him moan. You pulled away and smirked. "Sorry, got a little carried away." He smiled at you. "I can see that." He picked you up and carried you to his bedroom. He laid you down. "Are you comfortable?" "Mhm." "Okay, you don't have to practice this if you don't want to." You loved how much of a gentleman he was. "I want to." He sighed to himself and got back into character. He started to kiss you once again and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He placed kisses on your neck and you let out a soft moan. "Fuck the script. I can't do this anymore. I need you." "You sure," he asked. "Yes." He stripped naked in front of you, removing his pants then his briefs. Your mouth watered as you looked at his hard length. It was larger than you were used to and you felt worry start to fill your mind.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" "I um, you're just very endowed. I'm worried." He placed a kiss on your cheek. "Don't be, I'll work you through it. I promise. If you feel any bit uncomfortable, just let me know and I'll stop." He started to remove your clothing, throwing every item on the ground. You were now fully naked in front of him and his eyes wandered throughout your body. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid my eyes on." Your insecurity drifted away after his sentence and you smiled at him. "James, please come here. Let me hold you." He walked towards you and got in the bed, allowing you to touch him as much as you desired. Your hands wandered across his abs first and his chest. They then went to his stomach, going down until you met his v line. You stopped there and let the anticipation sink in. "Y/N," he said quietly. You grabbed his hard cock in your hand and felt the tip. "Yes?" You felt his dick twitch and you heard his breath hitch. "Please, give me more." You were surprised to hear him saying please. He was acting very submissive right now almost like he was holding back.

You were going to test his waters later. "Not just yet. I want to try something first." You flipped him underneath you and smiled. "What is it exactly?" "I want to ride your face." His face became flushed at the idea. "Okay." You crawled over his face and you felt his hands wrap around your waist to steady you. He started quickly, his tongue sliding across your folds. He then started his assault on you and started to eat you out as if he were starved. You threw your head back, moaning at the feeling. The angle was doing wonders. His tongue played your body skillfully as he sucked on your clit and maneuvered his tongue in your cunt. You tugged at his hair and he moaned against you, obviously enjoying the pleasure he was giving you. "James, ah." He hit a rather sensitive spot in you and you started rocking yourself on his mouth. You started to see stars as your orgasm was quickly approaching.

You came violently, your body shaking and his hold stronger on you. He made sure to drink up every droplet you had to give him before you weakly lifted yourself off of him. "Did I do well," he asked, his eyes glued on yours. "You have to be kidding. That's the best orgasm I've ever felt in my life," you confessed. He smiled to himself as he looked at you. "Why did you ask?" You started to lick a stripe down his body and stopped at his cock. He sucked in a breath. "There once was a woman who said that I was horrible at it. She made me afraid to ever try it again." You felt a bit of anger developing in you at whoever this woman was. "She told a very large lie." You then without warning licked a stripe at the underside of his length. You popped the tip into your mouth, tasting some of the pre cum as you did so.

He tried his best not to fuck your mouth and to let you have control. You bobbed your head up and down, concentrating hard not to choke or gag. You massaged his balls for a while and continued pleasuring him. "You look so good like this," he said, his voice hoarse and rugged. You moaned around him and suddenly lifted off from him. "Please fuck my mouth." James was taken aback by your words and he wasn't used to you being so bold. He did as you requested though. He pulled your hair and used it as leverage as he fucked into your mouth. Wet noises filled the room and you gagged a little from his length. "Such a good little girl for me, taking my cock so well." You moaned at his words, already getting wetter from the praise.

He started to twitch in your mouth and he started to become more vocal. "Do you wish to swallow my cum?" You did the best that you could to say yes and his pace started to become quicker. "Swallow for me." You did as he asked, eagerly swallowing all that he had to give you. You clenched your thighs together at the guttural moan that erupted from him. He let you off of him and sighed. "Fuck," he breathed out. You smirked up at him through your lust filled eyes. You knew he couldn't be so submissive for long. "How do you want us to do this?" You went in the middle of the bed and laid on your back. "Get on top of me." He obeyed. "You sure you want to go through with this? I need your word." He wanted consent and patiently waited for it. "Yep, I'm ready." He started to slide himself into you and kissed you as a distraction from the pain. You weren't a virgin. It was just big, very large compared to the others you'd been with.

He kissed your neck, collarbone, and shoulders as he distracted you from the pain. You sucked in air and once he was halfway inside, he stopped. "You sure," he asked again. "Yes." He slowly slid in the other half and waited once his cock was fully inside of you. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, just takes some adjusting." After a moment, you finally signalled him to move. He complied quickly, thrusting into you at a slow pace. For a while it stung but soon the pain subsided and sex with James was what you found out to be very pleasurable. You started to scratch his back and he moaned in your ear. "Mm, Y/N." He loved how you were so wet for him and how he fit perfectly. It was as if your bodies were made for each other. Your back arched from the bed as he started to hit deeper places in you.

"James, mm, faster." He sped up to a medium pace, still making sure he didn't hurt you in any way. His thrusts were harder and he applied more pressure. He was practically tearing your body in half at the force. You started to move from the bottom, something most women never knew how to do and it drove James wild. Your legs tightly wrapped around him and your eyes rolled from the pleasure he was providing you. You were getting closer and you scratched his back harder. You knew he was probably bleeding by now but he didn't seem to care. The only thing that warned you was him pinning your wrists above your head. He pounded faster into you and you threw your head all the way back. "I, I'm," you couldn't get a sentence out from how he was fucking you. "Let it go." You came and he followed shortly after.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and let out a sigh. "What do you wish to do now?" "One more round and then we can retry the love scene maybe." He smiled at your response. "Okay." "What position do you want me in," you asked. "Reverse cowgirl." He laid on the bed then you lowered yourself on his length. The two of you moaned at the feeling. You bounced on him, setting a medium paced rhythm for him to match. He matched the pace you set and moved his hands to the front of your body. He played with your nipples, making you moan from the sensitivity of them. "Mm, James, fuck. S-so good." You arched your back and took him in impossibly deeper, your eyes rolling from how good it felt. Nothing ever felt as good as this.

You went faster and he followed. His cock pounded hard into you, making you see stars. His groans of pleasure were music to your ears. You felt his fingers rub in tight circles over your clit, sending you over the edge. "James!" You let out shrieks and moans of his name followed by soft moans. You came, milking his cock for what it was worth. He started to get more vocal and you felt his cock twitch. "Fuck, Y/N. Can I," he started. You already understood what he was asking and the word yes slipped from your lips quickly. You heard him moan until you finally felt his cum shoot inside of you. You lifted off of him then saw some of it start to leak out. You scooped it up on your fingers and sucked the mixture. His eyes were glued on you at the sight. "Tastes so good," you stated. "You look good doing that." You smiled at him. "I know. This isn't a one time thing, is it?" "Not if I can help it." "Good, so now we try the scene again?" He nodded his head. "Yeah, we can try that." After a few more rounds and having some hickies placed on your body, you were finally able to do the scene perfectly.