#☆ TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT WHAT YOU REALLY REALLY WANT. – askbox prompts.

[starkerscoop]

Courting an Omega, Tony Stark-Style has over 1,000 kudos???? I’m in shock but so, so happy. I only just noticed. Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my fic ☺ This is my first time reaching that number! 

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

You've been quietly seeing Cooper for months now. Avoiding the public eye while he's still in the midst of settling a long, drawn-out divorce. He's been exploring new things with you. You're a little on the demure side but willing to try most things when it comes to what Cooper Howard wants. Being in similar networks, one night, you both go to the same party separately. You get a bit drunk and wonder off from everyone else, with Coop following. Sexual exploitation, cnc, degradation? Soooft Cooper after. Idk just a thought. 👀

Duplicity (Part I)

Pairing: Prewar!Cooper Howard x Female Reader

Word Count: 11,275

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Possessive!Prewar!Cooper, jealousy, dubious consent, infidelity (physical and emotional), decomposing marriages, acrimonious divorce proceedings, alcohol use, choking, biting, degradation, mild exhibitionism, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, soft ending.

Notes: I am such a sucker for darker portrayals of Prewar!Cooper so this took root right inside my brain, like, instantly. I think there's a lot more of The Ghoul already inside that man than many people talk about.

Thanks for the submission! I fell in love with this prompt and I will absolutely be continuing it; honestly, I think this version of Coop has so much potential and this framing is great fodder for freaky Prewar! antics. There's so much this man wants to try with (on) you.

This is more 'dubcon' than 'CNC', but there's always future installments. If y'all have ideas you'd like to throw on the pile for it, the askbox is always open! The length of this absolutely got away from me and I sincerely apologize for that. I am so bad at estimating how long my fics are gonna end up (I had originally guessed this would be around 8,500). Thanks for your patience and please enjoy!

"Oh, come on, you're gonna tell me you're not at all excited about this?"

Your coworkers words were more grating than usual as the two of you rode up towards your office in the elevator, alone save for the anticipation filling the small space thanks to the early hour.

"You really need to get a grip. Don't you also work at a movie studio? Haven't you met actors before?" you teased, trying to remain good-natured despite your annoyance, and despite your nerves. It was rather rare for you to be nervous about meeting with studio talent these days, but hey; even you were prone to a little fangirl behavior from time to time. You were, in fact, excited for a work meeting for once.

You'd heard Cooper Howard was actually nice compared to a lot of the actors you had to work with.

The early morning time slot you could certainly live without, as well as the hard edge of nerves that you couldn't shake, embarrassingly. For five years, you'd been employed by one of the country's largest and most prolific movie studios practicing contract law. Well, in name you practiced contract law. In reality, the department you worked for was so large that you were rarely involved in the actual negotiation process, the exciting part with the intriguing back-and-forth. Instead, you were left to finish things up, dot i's and cross t's. It wasn't exactly thrilling work, nor was it what you envisioned yourself doing when you were in law school, but the pay wasn't awful and everyone started somewhere.

Essentially, your entire job was to run around chasing (or sit around waiting for) signatures from people who usually thought they were better than you and treated you with contempt, so it was often difficult to feel any sort of genuine excitement. Granted, you were a little more of a fan of Cooper Howard than you were a fan of pretty much anyone else you'd met with, but you tried your hardest to remain professional and not embarrass yourself at all times. You'd grown up watching some of his earliest movies with your grandfather before he'd passed, and had even developed a little adolescent crush on him and his famous sheriff persona, but you also saw so much genuinely embarrassing name-dropping and star-fuckery in this job that you were determined to not come across that way.

Besides, there was enough of that nonsense in your household as it was, what with your husband in training as a junior executive thanks to his penchant for that type of behavior.

When you'd married him, bright-eyed and fresh out of undergrad, you hadn't necessarily been head-over-heels or anything, but wasn't that normal? Everyone around you told you that he was a good man, that he was the star to hitch your wagon to, and, in your youth and carelessness, you'd believed them unquestioningly, despite the fact that he never really had actively made you happy. The courting part of your relationship had been more like contract negotiations, long discussions about acceptable and unacceptable behavior in a marital partner until you'd settled on agreeable terms. The wedding had been beautiful and emotionless. You'd assumed that the 'happiness' part would come later, once you were both fully established and settled in.

It never did.

Well, the establishment came; you both graduated law school, you with honors, and when job offers had come in for both of you from the same firm that worked very closely with the studio he'd always talked about working for, you thought the deal was sealed. Your perfect life, perfect marriage were supposed to start the day you signed your offer. You'd found your stride in your work, bought a house, seen him get promoted...and you felt no more positive about him now than you had on your wedding day. The feeling was mutual, and it wasn't hard to tell; he'd had god knows how many affairs, lazier and lazier about hiding them over the years, including a number of flings with his assistant, who was undeniably in love with him, poor thing.

It was because of this that she clearly resented being asked to do anything that had to do with you, including arranging the half-cocked romantic gestures he'd perform in order to show others that he was a good husband. This was mostly made up of having flowers delivered to your office every other week, something he'd never take the time to set up himself, so naturally, it had fallen to the girl. Reserving little effort for the task, she had obviously made a standing order for a dozen red roses, sprinkled with baby's breath, to be delivered biweekly, and left it at that. It was a nice gesture, sort of, but frankly you'd grown tired of signing for the damn things every time when you didn't even like red roses, and he should've known that. You'd been married almost a decade.

Besides, the smell of baby's breath made your stomach turn.

Still, the poor flowers hadn't done anything, so you continued to sign for them, continued to let each bouquet molder away on the little ornamental table in the corner of your office. True, it was nice to have the splash of additional color, the life in the room, but increasingly the thorny blooms irritated you, looking at them distracting you with feelings of muted resentment.

That's what you felt as you looked upon them that morning, rifling through your file cabinet to find the proper contract as you waited, the door to your office standing open and allowing you to hear when the elevator doors opened. Standing there was the famous cowboy, dressed in a wool overcoat and nice slacks, smiling at you as you beckoned him and his companion, a tall, mustachioed man you took for his agent, into your office. Each of them shook your hand and took a seat at your desk, waiting as you made your way to your seat and began to chat with the unfamiliar man about the papers. Talent almost never had anything to say to you in these meetings, in your experience.

However, he surprised you, both by being fairly knowledgeable about the terms of his latest contract, as well as by speaking directly to you in a casual tone that implied he might even see you as an equal. Cooper Howard being so nice to speak to wasn't really a surprise, as he had a reputation for it, but you were shocked that everything he was currently going through personally didn't seem to impact his demeanor.

The woman representing him in his divorce had actually been in your law school graduating class, but you didn't figure that made for very good small talk.

"Alright, let's just make sure everything is squared away and we'll get this signed. " you said eventually, holding the little cluster of papers you'd scrounged up to scan it over. However, as the two watched you, your gaze caught on a misspelling; initially, you felt embarrassed, knowing it would have to be corrected, but then you noticed changes to the actual terms of the agreement and you fell completely silent.

Your eyes scanned slower as you quieted, realizing that the contract in your hands had changes that you didn't authorize, were sure that they hadn't authorized; subtle changes in the language that wouldn't draw much attention unless you were to slowly, carefully read through the entire thing right before the signatures went on...which was usually not the case. By now, the terms had been painstakingly ironed out and the thing had been edited and reread and reedited a million times. Typically, this meeting, the bulk of your job, was simply confirming agreed upon terms, collecting signatures, and filing the contracts away.

Something was awry here.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen." you said politely, sitting up straight and smiling as calmly, as normally as you could. "It seems I don't have the correct paperwork. This can't be the current version of the contract. We may have to delay."

"This is ridiculous. Ever since Vault-Tec took over legal, you people can't seem to tell your ass from your elbow." the mustachioed man rolled his eyes dramatically. "You don't have a para or anything to keep shit straight for you?"

"I really am sorry. It'll just be a few minutes, hopefully." you apologized again, cringing. You'd requested a paralegal multiple times and had been told that your role didn't require one, but you weren't about to tell him that.

"Well, if you're gonna make me wait around, I'm gonna go place a few calls in the meantime."

With that, the man rose abruptly and stepped out into the reception area. You followed him with your eyes, slightly worried that he would hassle your assistant in his seemingly aggressive frustration.

"He won't bother your girl." the man across from you said perceptively, surprising you. "He might seem like an asshole, but he's a good guy. Always done right by me. Just a little overprotective."

"Well, I don't blame him. Especially if he represents anyone else that works for this studio. Now every single negotiation has to come under extra scrutiny, not to mention all the contracts signed in the last year since the takeover..." you mused, a little too honest, but uncaring.

"I mean, if they've got you signing these dud contracts, too, isn't that bad for you?" he asked.

You chewed your lip for a long moment, your eyes dancing over the glass paperweight on your desk calendar as you thought things over. It was a sort of odd moment, having famous movie star Cooper Howard expressing concern for your wellbeing and job security.

"Well, I suppose that depends on how I ended up with a bum copy of your contract. Could just be me being forgetful or grabbing the wrong folder at some point, which would certainly be on me...but if I'm honest, that doesn't really strike me as something I would do. Besides, I don't even recognize some of these terms."

"Lots of interesting stuff happening around here since Vault-Tec started buying everything up." he replied, a glint in his eye as he leveled his gaze directly at you.

"I agree completely. And, again, I'm really sorry about this. Let me look at this and compare it to an old one. I know I have a hard copy of the final edit here, and I know that this one doesn't match it. Just let me prove it and we'll sign the real one, if that's what you want. If not, I guess we'll decide where to go from there." you said, feeling infinitely more at-ease than you had before.

"Think your boss'll be alright with that?"

You gave a crisp shrug.

"I feel like my time working for these people is dwindling. Maybe not immediately so, but I certainly can't see myself advancing here. Don't think I fit the corporate culture. You know?" you laughed, and he joined you. It was almost surreal to interact with someone like him who treated you like you were a real person, who acted like a real person themselves.

"Nice roses, by the way." he said, gesturing with his head over his shoulder to the flowers on the table. "Pretty. Are they from your husband?"

His question seemed innocuous, so you weren't sure why your response came out the way it did.

"Uh, yeah. He sends them every other week. It's nice." you replied, your tone unnecessarily flat and sending his eyebrows raising, his head tilting about twenty degrees in intrigue.

"It's nice, huh? Is he in the dog house every other week?" he joked.

"I just don't really like red roses that much and they're all I ever get." you said simply, unsure how much would be too much to say in this suddenly inquisitive moment. "Sorry, that probably makes me sound ungrateful."

"Lemme guess...you like sunflowers."

His statement actually surprised you, since he was right; granted, sunflowers were about the second most popular flower in the country, and you had several paintings and tchotchkes featuring sunflowers up around the office, but it was still sort of odd to you for him to notice that.

"Observant, huh?" you blushed.

The smile he shot back at you was genuinely heart-racing, sending blood racing to your cheeks and your gaze skittering around your desktop as you busied yourself with a random stack of papers. The meeting finished up quickly when his rep stuck his head back into your office and called Cooper away, sending him rolling his eyes playfully as he reached across your desk to shake your hand once more, thanking you sincerely for your help before politely dismissing himself.

You were still thinking about the feeling of his hand in yours that night when you brought up what you'd noticed with your husband over dinner.

"Maybe you do need a paralegal if you're mixing up your paperwork that badly." he muttered through bites of his entree, not even fully lifting his head to look at you. "I'll see what I can do about that."

You rolled your eyes.

"No, I mean it. I think something weird is going on. Like I said, I went though the copy I kept and compared it to the one we had to sign. I didn't make some of those edits, and the terms of them were so unfavorable for them that I really get the feeling that they didn't make them. What if someone is messing with my paperwork or something? I'm the one that'll have to go to court and defend myself if someone ends up suing the company or the studio for contract fraud!" you insisted, your own meal hardly touched.

"Fine. If we've gotta go to court, we've gotta go to court." was all he said.

"We'd never win, though. They'd have a slam-dunk case."

He laughed in response, and you were shocked at how much the sound annoyed you.

"Oh, please. You think Vault-Tec doesn't have the money to keep them in court forever fighting over it? They'll run outta money eventually. Doesn't matter if they're right." he shrugged. "Don't worry about it. We'll get you a para so you can stop screwing up your papers."

You sat there in silence, unable to formulate a reply in your disgust with him. After a long moment, you excused yourself, emptying your plate into the trash before climbing the stairs to bed. The next morning, you called Cooper's rep the moment your husband left the house and invited him to come and pick up the contract copies from your office, all the discrepancies noted clearly. He happily agreed, the star showing up before anyone else had taken their places for the day.

"You're not wearing your ring." he said as he took the manila folder from your hand. You paused, confused, before focusing on your outstretched left hand and noticing that he was correct; your engagement ring and wedding band were missing, clear tan lines in their absence.

"Oh. I, erm, must've forgotten it at home." you replied after just a moment too long, your eyes flitting between his face and your naked finger as you felt your cheeks warm.

You'd never forgotten it before; putting it on was the first thing you did every morning to ensure just that. It was such a tiny, easy-to-lose bauble. Ever since you'd been given the thing, you'd been afraid of misplacing it and the reaction that would earn you. A muted tingle of worry crept up your spine that you may have dropped or lost it.

Both of them, though?

He thanked you sincerely once more, seeming like he wanted to say something else before dismissing himself. Both of you were a tad skittish at the sounds of people arriving in the hall outside, so you let him go, waving in response to the way he nodded at you as he pulled the door shut behind him. That night, when you returned home, you found your wedding bands sitting right on your bedside table where you left them every night. You were both relieved you hadn't misplaced them and curious about how you'd managed to completely forget about them that morning. Cooper Howard was quite the distraction, as it turned out.

You were still thinking about your interaction a few days later as you poured over already-signed documents from previous months, noting multiple differences between final drafts and signed copies, a feeling of dread building in the back of your mind. That smile he'd shot you from across your desk still managed to distract and make you dizzy, though, even as a memory, one you were indulging in yet again when the sound of the front office door opening broke your concentration.

"Your flowers are here to sign for!" your assistant suddenly called from the front of the office, sending you rolling your eyes at the timing until she followed it up with a pleasantly surprised, "They're extra nice this week!"

This sent you moving towards the door with just a little more hustle than usual, your brows furrowed deeper and deeper as a realization set upon you: it was the right day, but the wrong week for your usual rose delivery. The usual man was there to drop them off, standing right at the door and waiting politely. Same song and dance as usual.

"He picked out super pretty ones this time. Must be for something special." she mused dreamily from her chair as she watched you sign for them, nodding politely at the delivery guy as he let himself out.

There, on the desk, was a gorgeous, glossy blue vase filled with goldenrod sunflowers the size of your hand, nestled with tall, royal blue gladioluses and star-shaped balloon flowers. You could smell the arrangement from where you stood. Quickly, you carried them into your office and shut the door, not waiting for her to realize the date was off and start asking questions. Setting them on the usual side table, you inspected them closely. Nestled among the blooms was a thick little card, crisp handwriting inside the rich gold border when you opened it that read:

Thank you so much for your help with the contract edits. If you ever need to get ahold of me again, for anything, please don't hesitate to call me directly. - C.H.

Beneath that, a phone number that you promptly wrote into your address book and burned into your memory, a strange tingle in your gut as you looked your gift over once more. The card itself you tucked into your desk drawer, beneath some innocuous, boring papers.

You hadn't done anything wrong, except maybe in your employer's eyes, but you didn't want to risk anything seeming...untoward, despite your inability to simply throw the card away. You had the phone number now and didn't necessarily need to keep it, but something made you feel a little sad when you thought about tossing it in the trash can.

That evening, after everyone else had left, you called the number, fully expecting to have to leave a message and floored when he actually answered, rather quickly, in fact.

"Thank you so much for the flowers." you said softly, almost shyly after the two of you had exchanged fairly formal greetings. You should've followed up the statement with a "...but they aren't appropriate." or a "...but I'm married." However, you did not.

Interesting.

"Well, thank you for your help with the contract stuff. Really, it's so rare to find anyone really honest around here anymore." he said, and you could hear that killer smile in his tone. It sent your heart fluttering. "I'm still not sure what I'm gonna do, but I'll call you when I decide. Or maybe I'll come bother you at your office and see them in person. I didn't get to see the actual arrangement when I went down to order them, so I'm really glad you like them."

"You're always welcome to come see me if you need." you offered up much too quickly. "I usually stay late a few hours to look over things, especially recently."

"Well, you don't have to tell me twice." he replied teasingly.

After that, you'd swapped small talk for a few minutes before getting off the phone, the feeling of not wanting to hang up first heavy on both ends.

After that, flowers you actually fancied came for you every week for months on end, and still came to this day. It wasn't even the same flowers every time. He knew you liked sunflowers, but would often shake things up by sending arrangements of pale asters and black-eyed Susans, buttercups and gerbera daises, all in beautiful shades of rich yellow, studded with clusters of blue phlox, cornflowers, and larkspur.

His colors.

Over and over you'd told him that it wasn't necessary, that he didn't have to spend that much money on you just for flowers. But your arguments were rather flat and halfhearted; not only did you love having the gorgeous, vibrant blooms to brighten your office, you felt incredibly special at the effort he took to specifically gift you something you actually enjoyed. Besides, he refused to hear it, anyway, rebutting that he was a grown man who knew how to manage his money and what he liked to spend it on.

You started breaking up the bouquets of roses your husband sent, distributing them among the ladies in the office; some wanted color for their desks, others something to brighten up their window sills at home, and you were happy to provide.

The baby's breath, however, went into the trash.

You just tried to not think too hard about the lovely gifts technically coming from someone else's husband, including how the first few bouquets had come before he'd moved out of their shared home.

It had been when he'd finally done so that you two really started to become close. Already you'd reached the point of staying late an hour or so most nights just to talk to him on the phone in your office (with the door locked, of course), so you became quite accustomed to getting to speak to him directly, and regularly, especially when something was bothering you. At first, you mostly just talked about your days; you tried to avoid talking about your suspicions about your work, a little nervous about the security of your phone, so you largely listened to him talk about his latest divorce negotiations, his daughter, asking him questions about himself and answering questions in return. Sometimes, you would both lapse into a silence that was strangely comfortable, even over the phone.

Eventually, you both began to to open up more. You confessed that you got married for less than thoughtful reasons at a probably-too-young age, and all but said you regretted it. You also told him that you really hated your job, actually, and mused about the kind of work you'd do if you weren't where you were. Maybe something in the nonprofit sector.

He told you about his decision to get involved with Vault-Tec, about how he felt like Barb used his career to bolster hers, not caring what the impact towards him was.

Surprisingly to you, he never so much as implied that he resented her for it, but you could sense it there, deep beneath all of the very apparent feelings of betrayal and sadness. One night, he confessed that as much as he loved his wife, he didn't feel like he truly knew her anymore, that he'd always thought they'd shared the same values, and he now didn't think that was really true. There also seemed to be something else, something darker beneath it all, something that frightened him, but you could never get a good sense of what it was.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer, stealing rare opportunities to see one another for a few minutes during the day, trying to tide yourselves over until you could talk at night. Quickly, your talks became a necessity for you, a peaceful refuge where you felt you could truly get things off your chest with no judgment.

It became apparent that he felt the same the first night he'd called you at home.

The phone's ring had actually frightened you awake, sending you grabbing at the handset that lived next to your side of the bed in a blind, half-conscious panic. Your husband, asleep (or, based on the smell, passed out) beside you, didn't really stir.

"Hello?" you murmured, groggy with an edge of alarm.

"Hey." came a soft, familiar drawl. "I'm sorry to wake you. I didn't really know who to call."

Cooper's voice was a welcome sound, but the room, the whole house, was so quiet you weren't sure how much you could say without being overheard. For a long moment, you were silent, struggling to decide on what to say.

"Are you safe?" was the question you decided on. It seemed a little dramatic, but you weren't sure what was going on.

At the other end, there was a muffled squeaking sound, like someone shifting around in a leather chair, and a tinkling like ice in a glass.

"Yeah, m'fine. Just sitting here in the new place." he said, followed by an audible swallow. "So quiet. It's weird."

"Mmm." you responded cautiously.

Things were quiet for a time, and you felt a little awkward just sitting there, saying nothing, straining to hear any sounds from him.

"I miss you." he said suddenly.

"Miss you too."

"I'm sorry." he said again, and you could hear the intoxication creeping into his voice. "I know it's not a good time to call. Should've let you sleep."

"It's okay. Happy you called." you responded lowly, trying to use as few words, make as few sounds as possible. "Worried about you."

Finally, it seemed he was ready to say what was really weighing on him.

"Haven't slept without Janey in the same house since she was born." was all he said, his voice thick and strange. You wondered if he was crying, and it broke your heart.

"M'sorry, honey."

The pet name was soft and bittersweet as it rolled off your tongue for the first time. You wanted so badly to be able to be there for him, with him, keeping him company through this. Holding him.

Maybe if you were quiet, you could sneak out...call a cab from downstairs...walk down the drive and meet it...

But before he could respond, before your plan could form any further in your mind, your husband let out a cough, his chest jumping as he turned over roughly in bed. You lie as still as you could in response, trying to feign sleep, the phone cradled secretively against your pillow until he eventually resumed his deep, rhythmic breathing.

"He's there tonight?" Cooper asked. There was an edge to his voice that you didn't really recognize, but between the liquor he was almost certainly into and your still sleep-addled brain, you thought nothing significant of it.

"Yes." you said concisely, adjusting yourself just enough that you could crane your neck to make sure he was really asleep.

"Alright, I'll let you go, sweetheart. Sorry to bother you."

"You're not-" you began, but the line went dead before you could finish your thought.

The next morning, you'd tried to call him after your husband had gone, wanting to make sure he was alright after your call had ended so abruptly, but it was too late in the day and there was no answer. This made you worry that he was upset with you, that you'd done something or said something wrong in response to his vulnerability.

In fact, you'd been fretting about it, staring at the latest bouquet from him, some vibrant buttercups, chopped short and dotted with blue-and-yellow-streaked African violets, when your assistant poked her head in your door, an interesting glint in her eye as she spoke, pulling you from your distraction.

"Cooper Howard is here to see you." she said with a mild air of impression.

You stayed sitting until he strode in, thanking the girl as he removed his coat and hung it on the stand by your door. Smiling pleasantly at her, he shut the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before locking it. This sent you rising from your desk, making your way around the side to approach him, hesitating as you moved within a foot of him. He looked a little tired, which was unsurprising as you knew his sleep had been poor, but put together as always, clad in what looked like a thin denim shirt covered with a very soft-looking sweater. Standing so close, you could smell his cologne.

You'd intended to ask if he was alright, but you never got the chance. Cooper closed the distance between the two of you, his hands softly cupping your face as he leaned down to pull you into a tender, passionate kiss. You were taken aback a bit by the gesture, but easily let him guide you back a few feet until he was pressing your hips into the edge of your desk as he stole the breath from your lungs. Both of you were left panting when he eventually pulled back, quiet for a long moment as he petted your hair affectionately.

"Thank you for talking to me last night. I really needed it." he said, gazing at you tenderly before kissing your forehead. You didn't know what to say, and didn't get much chance to reply before he stepped away, adding "I have to get to set, but I wanted to come tell you how much I appreciate you. Talk tonight?"

You nodded enthusiastically, somewhat dazed as he went out. That day had dragged by so slowly, the minutes passing like hours until you could speak to him again. The next morning, his newest floral gift had arrived, and it surprised you: roses, but gorgeous, full blooms of a light purple that tickled you deeply. He'd never given you roses before, and you understood why, for sure, but these were beautiful. Your assistant seemed to agree, as well.

"Aww, how sweet." she smiled at you as she appraised the new blooms, leaning down to give them an appreciative whiff. "Love at first sight."

"What?" you asked, brow furrowed slightly.

She nodded to the flowers just inches from her face once again.

"Lavender-colored roses. They usually symbolize love at first sight. Or, at least, that's what I've read. Who knows, could be nonsense."

Her reply made your face redden again, taking the vase into your office and placing it in its usual place of honor. It had distracted you all day, another decade passing in your mind before you were able to call him that night.

"Did you like the roses?" he asked when he picked up. "I know roses aren't your absolute favorite, but..."

"I loved them." you said decisively. The heat in your cheeks was blooming further, intensifying, but the strange excitement that washed over you made it easy to ignore. "I really want to see you tonight."

That evening, he'd come up to your office and the two of you had shared a takeout dinner together, chatting and holding hands until it was time to part ways. Soon you were doing so most nights, ending with you in his lap, his tongue in your mouth as you rubbed yourself against his clothed erection, fooling around like teenagers.

This man was going to make such trouble for you, you could tell.

You also didn't care, really, which is how you ended up on your husband's arm, suffering through one of his colleague's fancy Friday night parties for once instead of sitting at home in your pajamas, clad in an outfit chosen just for the occasion.

Your dress wasn't especially scandalous, a dark grey wrap, soft and stretchy with sleeves that reached your elbows, the hem stopping just above your knee. Something comfortable and elegant, something you could wear to the office.

Something with deniability.

But you were also aware of the way this particular dress hugged every line in your body just right, form-fitting in all the correct places, making you feel feminine and sexy and powerful at the same time. Your husband complained it was "matronly", but you ignored him; his opinion didn't matter. Besides, the thing was nice and stretchy, so if anyone special found their way up your skirt for a few minutes, as you were hoping would happen, it'd be nice and easy to get in and out. You'd even worn a special set of underwear, red and lacy, beneath.

You only slightly regretted your choice of footwear, some very classy stilettos; while they really completed the look, sexed it up a bit, your feet had been aching for over an hour already, leaving you scanning the room for a free seat to flee to once you were able to slip away from the group chat you were currently enmeshed in.

The man you'd shared your home and bed with for the last eight years was strangely affectionate this evening, consistently cradling you into his side as he spoke boisterously and even occasionally sending a compliment your way. It made you wonder which young lady in the room he was trying to impress with his "perfect husband" routine, scanning around and noting several of his type; though, at least a few had already been crossed off the list. They avoided your glossy gaze, turning their faces into their Pip Boys or their wine glasses as your spouse continued to absentmindedly massage at your hip, his arm tight around you as he recited yet another unamusing anecdote to the men standing around you.

Among them was Bud Askins, head of some department of incapable jackasses with no moral compass, though which one, you could never remember. What you did remember was how often you caught him looking at you, the number of times he'd gotten close just to linger a few seconds too long. Fortunately, you'd always managed to slip out of the odd-feeling conversations he'd try to start with you. He wasn't the only one, either; so many of these men seemed eager to betray one another in basically whichever way presented itself first. It made you eager to remove yourself from this corporate world, to find a better way to live your life, and sooner rather than later.

Out of the corner, you watched as Cooper Howard sat on a chaise, sipping a cocktail and eyeballing you so hard you didn't even have to fully look his way to feel his gaze burning into you. You'd been waiting all week to make it to this party, not because you had any particular desire to hobnob and mingle with studio execs and Vault-Tec higher ups, but because you'd known the older man would be making an appearance.

You knew that, personally, he didn't really revel in the attendance of these get-togethers himself, but you also knew that socializing and getting face time with important people was one of the top ways that actors continued to get work. That was why he and Barb had quite literally had to iron out a social schedule with their lawyers: to ensure neither of them had more networking opportunities than the other.

He had to be glad that everything was said and done at last, finalized a few days before. You hadn't really discussed it; he hadn't brought it up much, save for to confirm it to you as truth. It certainly didn't feel like your place to mention it, so you didn't, wanting to be as supportive as possible.

An especially loud burst of laughter drew you back into the present, just in time for your husband to make a joke at your expense, sending you rolling your eyes and pushing your hand against his chest as he bent to pepper your face and mouth with half-assed, drunkenly apologetic kisses. You gave him one peck in return, not wanting to be the topic of gossip for the night. Feeling strange kissing your husband, especially with your present company included, you peeked over towards him as slyly as you could. There was a polite smile on his face, but it didn't touch his usually warm eyes, a tight irritation there as he cradled a half-full gin martini against his chest. A feeling of guilt sunk into your chest, but you were quickly distracted as the group around you moved into the kitchen, sort of herding you along as they went.

A couple hours later, when you finally managed to excuse yourself, the evening had begun to wind down, though not entirely; about two thirds of the guests had slowly flowed out, but those that remained seemed to be getting a sort of second wind where they all convened around the pool outside. You stood hidden away in the corner of the living room the party had vacated from, finally alone save for one or two caterers moving around, collecting abandoned glasses and emptying ashtrays in silence. Scanning the group outside, you failed to locate the one guest you actually wanted to see.

In fact, it had been over an hour since you'd even laid eyes on the older man, and you pondered that fact as you turned and made your way down the hallway, trying your best to look for a bathroom without seeming like you were casing the place or being too nosy. However, the cocktails you'd been nursing just to have something in your hand had been stronger than you'd anticipated, and it made walking completely straight, seeming normal, much harder than you'd thought. Your feet ached deeply from the uncomfortable shoes.

Eventually, you found a nice washroom, decently appointed with a massive mirror, into which you stared for a minute or two, willing yourself to sober up more as you washed your hands. You didn't want to make yourself seem foolish in front of Cooper, and you were fairly positive he wouldn't have left without you two speaking.

When you stepped back out into the carpeted hall, you assessed the wall of windows and the adjacent hall to your right, decided that he likely hadn't gone that way, and turned to head back towards the pool area, almost willing to ask one of the staff if they'd seen the incredibly recognizable man around recently, but you were quickly stopped.

"Nice dress." a low voice murmured, lips pressed firmly and suddenly against your ear as a pair of strong, wiry arms wound around your waist. The gasp you let out quickly melted into a giggle as his lips found the nape of your neck, kissing and nipping there playfully as he pushed his hips against your ass; a much bolder move than he would typically pull, but you were certainly open to his attention as he turned you, pressing your back into the wall behind you to kiss you deeply.

His hands were knotted deep in your hair as his tongue worked his way into your mouth, his thigh rubbing at the apex of your own as best as it could. Soon, you were far too worked up, arms wound around his neck as he shepherded you into a nearby open door, shutting it firmly behind you.

The guest room he'd tugged you into was cozy, but pristine, the low, full-sized mattress to your eleven o'clock covered with plush layers of bedding and rows of decorative pillows. Quickly, he tugged you over to the foot of the bed, urging you down onto your back as he hovered above you, one knee braced on the bed as he latched his lips onto your throat, dragging his teeth and tongue along your pulse point as his hands pushed at your skirt.

Despite the two of you never really going at it like this, his hands didn't stop the roaming along your body they'd started doing in the hall, didn't even pause as he continued to work your dress up your body, bunching it at your waistline, quickly and roughly exposing your lacy red hip-huggers to his hungry eyes. A rumble left his chest, low and deep like a growl, when two of his fingers met the warm, wet gusset covering the mound between your legs. For a minute, he rubbed firmly at your erect clit through the rough material, making you squirm and whimper. Eventually, he pulled his fingers away, tucking them into the waistband of your panties at your hip and yanking at the seam there.

"Wait, baby." you chastised, words still sort of slurred, but they obviously didn't register or were ignored, as he continued to yank at the fabric until it gave way under his hand, pinching lightly at your skin as he ripped the leg of the garment open before repeating the motion on the other side. This made you frown, upset at the loss of your favorite pair of underwear before he'd even properly gotten to see them on you.

"Cooper, stop." you said, trying to push your hands against his chest, your heart racing when he continued to ignore you, yanking the fabric loose from beneath you and stuffing it into his pants pocket.

Your lover's lips were attacking the exposed side of your throat and shoulder, nipping and sucking and huffing, your back pressed firmly into the plush mattress as you wriggled beneath him. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, between the one-too-many cocktails you'd had during the party and the way he was touching you, moving you, positioning you the way he wanted as he softly gyrated in between your legs, kneeling over you on the edge of the bed.

"Maybe we should wait." you breathed, your breaths deep and deliberate as you tried to sober yourself up enough to string together a clear thought.

It would've been difficult enough simply trying to resist his kisses, but your head spinning from the alcohol only made it harder. Still, this was some random Vault-Tec executive's guest bedroom. There was a party going on. Your husband was likely still outside mingling, possibly looking for you. The odds of that weren't high, but they weren't zero. While the two of you had fooled around a bit up until now, his hands slipping up your skirt once or twice during your make-outs in your office, you couldn't help but feel like you wanted things a little different for the first time you really had sex, for when you really took that plunge and committed to this path.

The man on top of you seemed to feel differently.

"Don't think so." he purred lowly into the crook of your neck, running his teeth along your collarbone and making you shudder. You could smell the gin martini he'd been holding earlier on his breath. "You made me watch him touch and kiss on you all night, and now you're gonna make it up to me."

Cooper's warm, softly calloused hand found your throat, holding you firmly as he gazed down at you. He wasn't choking you, per se; at least, not in the way that you would've anticipated someone would choke you, squeezing around your airway until your breathing was cut off. No, instead, he pressed his fingers and thumb into the soft flesh on each side, digging into your twin pulse points and slowing the flow of blood to your brain.

It didn't hurt or make you feel panicked. In fact, quite the opposite happened, your squirming finally ceasing almost entirely, your brain buzzing with warm, tingly docility. Between that and the already warm feeling coursing through your veins, you haltingly allowed your defiant legs to fall open halfway, slowly forgetting the reasons you'd been resisting, forgetting where you were.

"That's a good girl. You know who you belong to, don'tcha?" he praised, his free hand stroking the sensitive inside of your thigh reverently. The feeling of two of his thick fingers sliding inside of you suddenly sent you whining in response, both at the stretch and the slight sting of it. That sent a smirk ghosting across the actor's face, leaning in to run his lips along the soft, flushed skin of your cheek.

"Pretty little cheatin' slut. Now, be quiet and let me have what's mine."

His words both stung and fanned the flames in your gut, leaving you feeling frozen under his touch as he pulled back to look at you, now free hand leaving your throat and moving up to finish pulling the top of your dress down enough to expose the bra beneath.

"Mm." he hummed as he ran his free hand along the softness of your exposed clevage, though it was a curt sound. "This why you didn't wanna fuck me? Had other plans, huh?"

Briefly confused, you shook your head vigorously, your heart rate revving up once more at his tone.

"It's not like that, baby." you pleaded hoarsely, but your protests died on his tongue as he forced it back into your mouth, his hand knotting into a fist between your breasts, twisting the stretchy nylon of your bra's waistband around his knuckles and using the leverage it gave him to yank you up, dangling you for a few seconds above the bed as the seams popped and cracked at the tension. He was trying to destroy the thing.

A small whimper of discomfort left your throat as you felt the hooks in the back digging into your skin; the noise seemed to lift him partially out of the fugue he was immersed in, and he dropped you back down to the bed, the cups now bunching uselessly over your breasts, leaving them exposed to his warm hand. He was gentler with them than you thought he'd be, softly cupping them and rolling each nipple between the fingers on his free hand before sliding it up to cup your face, holding you and making you look at him as you muffled your cries into his palm. Your vision was blurry with unshed tears.

His fingers were still buried as deep inside you as he could get them, fucking you shockingly rough, pushing you closer and closer to the edge as he continued to toy with your aching clit. One particularly perfect movement made you cry out rather loudly, clenching around his fingers rhythmically as you came close to your peak.

"Nuh-uh. If you're gonna cum, honey, you're gonna cum on my cock." he whispered, his voice more steady than you'd heard it all night as he pulled his hand from between your legs. "Is that what you want?"

You couldn't stop the way your head set to nodding, the fat tears in your eyes finally spilling over and running down over his fingers as they cradled the side of your face, still muffling your sounds. Your eyes slipped shut for a moment, trying your hardest to collect yourself to some degree as you could hear the quiet sounds of his belt and fly coming undone.

A small voice in the back of your mind noted that he definitely wasn't wearing a condom as he let the leaking head of him trace back and forth through your soaking folds, tapping along your clit and gathering the slickness there as he teased you. The worry you'd felt melted away rapidly with his teasing, though, and soon you were breathily begging him to fill you, to properly fuck you.

Your name dripped from his tongue, syrupy and hot, as he pushed inside you.

"Fuck." you cried.

You couldn't see well in the dim glow of the bedroom, but the sensation, the slight burn of his girth stretching you open was vivid and detailed as he slowly began to work his hips back and forth, giving you a few breaths to sort of acclimate to his size before moving more earnestly. The bed frame beneath you was surprisingly squeaky as he fucked you harder, and you wondered, mortified, just how apparent the sound would be from the hallway. At least you knew he'd locked the door.

However, you didn't stay clear-minded enough to fret forever, his cock inside you and his fingers back on your clit rapidly soothing you into a state of hypnotized bliss, your body jolting along beneath his with every rough thrust into your flesh.

"This body belongs to me. This pussy belongs to me." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force.

"Oh, Cooper. Fuck me, baby." you begged, your nails digging hard into his shoulders through the softness of his shirt.

He sighed your name in reply, an echo following it a moment later.

The sounds of your coupling filled the room, making it difficult to hear anything outside, save for the occasional very loud splash from the pool in the courtyard.

He slid his tongue back into your mouth, winding and rubbing it along yours as he continued to use your body. Another echo of your name from somewhere that wasn't here.

"I think someone's looking for you, sweetheart." he whispered in your ear, sliding his tongue along your lobe and making you throb around him.

It was clear as day now: someone out in the hall was calling your name. Someone with a voice that sounded suspiciously like your husband's through the thick wood of the door.

Suddenly, there were shadows moving beneath. The sound of the handle jiggling made you freeze like a deer in the headlights; his movements slowed, but he didn't stop pumping between your thighs as he cast a downright impish look from your face and back to the door.

"Occupied, man." he called, pulling back enough so that his free hand could move down to slowly flick at your clit once more. Your hand that wasn't trapped between your bodies moved to cover your mouth, desperately trying to silence the whimper his touch drew from you as he continued on. There was some more shuffling, the shadows barely visible beneath the door dancing back and forth.

"Oh, erm. My bad. Sorry." the voice called, moving away.

It resumed calling your name as it faded to nothing.

Shockingly, you felt almost nothing, save for the older man's pubis grinding against your clit deliciously as he slowly began to build his pace back up, the creaking of the bed frame slowly growing louder and louder once more as the calling faded. There was no guilt, no sour sting of knowing you were betraying someone who supposedly cared about you like you thought there'd be. There was only the pleasure your lover was gifting you and the satisfaction of knowing you wouldn't be pulled away from him in this moment.

When the calling faded away to nothing, he picked up the pace tenfold, fucking you with wild abandon as the bed slid back against the wall with a thud. Your vision was quickly blurring again under his intense, animalistic attentions.

"Fuck, Cooper. I'm gonna cum..." you breathed harshly, tucking your head against his firm chest, your cheek rubbing against the overheating, rumpled silk of his shirt.

That drew a groan from him, his hips stuttering for a moment before regaining their tempo.

"Yeah? You gonna cum all over my cock, pretty girl?" he replied, his question low and urgent as his lips pressed to the crown of your head. "Go ahead, make a mess all over me."

Regardless of how quiet you tried to be, a fluctuating, nasal whimper escaped you as you fell completely apart under his touch, feeling your greedy cunt fluttering as you did, trying its best to milk him for everything he was worth. It must've worked well enough, as he seemed immediately overwhelmed by the sensation, his hips beginning to buck wildly as his fingers dug harshly into the plush meat of your outer thighs.

It was nearly impossible to remain quiet as he fucked you hard through your orgasm, pushing you closer and closer to overstimulation as he continued to abuse your swollen walls. Cooper's breathing was loud and harsh, broken up with muttered curses and little huffs of praise that made you clench around him even harder. At one point, he lowered his mouth back to your chest, grabbing the closest nipple between his teeth and lathing at it with his tongue, making you moan loudly.

The sound must've really turned him on, as he let out a long, low groan in response, his hands pushing on the backs of your thighs to lift your legs up onto his shoulders, folding you in half as he brought his other knee up onto the bed, thrusts reaching even deeper than they had before. You jumped as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it quickly and firmly, again rapidly bringing you right back to the edge, your aching pussy fluttering hard and making him groan once more.

"Cum with me, baby." he whispered feverishly, lips pressed to your forehead as his nose tickled along your hairline. "Cum with me while I fill up this pretty pussy."

This made you whimper, his words shooting down your spine and straight into your gut, which clenched tight in response, and it was all over for both of you. Your second orgasm wasn't quite as intense as the first, but it was no easier to stay quiet as you rode out the overwhelming waves of pleasure tucked beneath him, especially as he dug his teeth into the side of your neck to keep the growl that escaped him muffled. The sensation of his warmth pooling in your womb, his teeth back on your skin made you see stars.

You weren't sure how long you two laid there, him slumped loosely on top of you, most of his weight supported by his knees as you held him close, your own legs lowered back down to wrap around his waist. He was still throbbing away inside of you, and the feeling was so surreal; you and your husband hadn't had sex for months, but before that, it's not like it was a regular occurrence, and you certainly wouldn't let him do this. For years you'd been afraid of catching something...or having a baby that would tie you to him forever. When you'd first married him, you'd just assumed that you would eventually feel ready to have children with him.

Then again, you'd also assumed you'd eventually really love him, or feel loved by him, and look at how that worked out.

"Come home with me." your lover murmured into the side of your sweat-slicked throat. "Stay with me tonight."

His request settled into your chest weightily, excitingly, tingling its way upwards over your breastbone and spreading to your mouth, sending you scrambling to hold back the grin that wanted to steal across your lips. Your heart raced with a kind of pure, joyous elation you hadn't felt since you were young. A response didn't immediately jump to your lips, however; instead, you brought both hands up to cradle the back of his head, petting his slightly damp hair and neck affectionately.

Were you really considering just flat-out not going home to your husband? It wasn't like he'd never done it before. Hell, for all you knew, he'd given up his search for you and gone home with one of his roster. Maybe that hadn't even really been him at the door. Maybe it was Bud Askins looking to finally shoot his shot with you or something.

Frankly, you didn't really care.

"I'd love to." you said quietly, both of you moving to sit up.

For another few minutes, you sat on the mussed bed together, holding and petting tenderly at one another as you let your breathing and body temperatures return to normal. Eventually, the man beside you stood to right his clothing, his belt jingling musically as he tucked himself away, still turned so you couldn't really see anything. He was such a tease.

Pleasantly, you noted that your face no longer burned like it had earlier; that is, at least, until you stood to join him and felt a quick, warm rush of slickness race down your inner thigh, thinning and cooling as it wound its way around the back of your calf towards the floor. The gasp that left you instantly drew your lover's attention, and his gaze was still shockingly hot as he scanned you up and down.

"Makin' a mess." he teased, cutting his eyes at you playfully as he tugged the bedding loose, using the corner of the top sheet to quickly and crudely clean you. An indignant little noise left you at that, embarrassingly close to a cluck, which he chuckled at as he tossed everything down on the floor.

"Don't want some poor, unassuming soul sleeping in the mess, you know?" he explained when you looked at him quizzically.

"Oh...I still feel kinda bad that someone's gonna have to remake that bed." you responded, leaving the 'likely an underpaid housekeeper' part unsaid.

"Point me to the linen closet, sweetheart, and I will happily make it happen. Little late to save that labor now." he smirked. You took his point.

"Alright, let's get out of here before you get us caught." you replied, rolling your eyes to try and keep the impending grin off your face, failing miserably when he swatted you firmly on the ass. Your hands flew to your mouth, covering it to hide the cackle that jumped out of you, sending you glaring at him.

"C'mon, this way." he grinned, tugging you back down the hall towards the bathroom you'd used. Confused, you followed wordlessly, moving closer and closer towards the wall of "windows" you'd seen before until you realized that one was really a door to the gorgeous deck you could now see. As you stepped outside, the last remnants of the day's scorching heat kissed at your face. You were pleasantly surprised to see a set of stairs that led down to the ground level, into what looked like a strange statue garden: clusters of pillars along a winding gravel path, topped with geometric marble shapes of seemingly no significance. The whole thing was fairly ugly and reeked of "more money than taste", which wasn't surprising for one of the best and "brightest" at Vault-Tec.

At the very least, there were some very lovely bushes and flowers, the aroma of which enveloped you as the two of you descended the wooden stairs. Maybe fifty yards out, the edge of the flawless black driveway was visible.

The two of you stood out back for a while, hidden beneath the deck stairs; you leaned against the warm terracotta wall and watched him smoke a few cigarettes as he finished sobering up enough to drive, the ghost of his hands still running all over your body, his teeth still digging into your neck and making you shiver despite the balmy heat. Absentmindedly, you wondered if you would bruise where he'd bitten you.

You stood with your legs close together, a little afraid that you'd have another mess on your hands if you weren't careful. He didn't seem to notice, but you were quickly realizing that he was slicker than you'd given him credit for. In an attempt to distract yourself, you turned your eyes to the treeline, watching the crisp leaves sway back and forth in the soft breeze. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding.

"I can't believe the number of people who had the gall to ask me where Barb was tonight." he muttered eventually, breaking your companionable, though contemplative shared silence.

You turned your gaze back to him, but remained silent, sensing one of the times he'd appreciate a chance to simply vent. Cooper Howard wasn't really a man to complain much, so when he wanted to, you let him.

"It's not like the divorce was a secret or anything. Been in and outta the headlines, the trades for a fuckin' year. Not like we both haven't been out alone. But it just so happens that tonight of all nights everyone wonders where she is within earshot. I don't understand the desire to play weird mind games with people you barely know."

There was real, deep frustration in his tone as he spoke, his eyes gazing out over the ugly little statues, unseeing. Softly, you reached out and put your hand on his arm, massaging gently.

"Some people just really enjoy other people being miserable because they, themselves, are miserable. Marriage issues are like catnip to the gossip mill. Especially the marriage issues of the beautiful and famous." you teased, fawning towards him and batting your eyelashes as you leaned against his shoulder.

"Oh, it's not just my dead marriage they're out there yappin' about, sweetheart." he grinned, burning cigarette hanging from his lips as he leaned towards you. "You had a face like a slapped ass when he kissed you, y'know. They ate that shit up."

"I think you mean you ate that shit up." you rolled your eyes, cheeks hot again as you turned your face to hide from him, from the truth of his words. It was rapidly coming to a point where you couldn't even stand your husband's touch. Maybe it really was time to start considering your options for divorce.

Well, the fact that you were even standing here said that it was time for divorce. No maybe about it. Your stomach turned unpleasantly, wondering how much fighting and negotiating you'd have to do yourself.

"Hey." he called, pulling you from your snowballing thoughts. "It's all gonna be alright."

You didn't look straight at him, but you let him slip his hand into yours when you felt it brush your palm. The feeling was shockingly soothing, and you quickly pulled him close for a long hug, smiling into his chest when you felt him kiss the top of your head.

"How are we getting outta here?" you asked when you pulled back, giving a casual glimpse around when you heard a particularly loud sound from the pool on the other side of the house. "Where's your car?"

"It's down the hill a bit. I just walked up here." he said, nodding towards a little gap in the trees you could now see, just the slightest glimpse of yellow nestled there.

"You parked that thing on the street?" your voice piqued, knowing how particular he was about his beloved car. To be fair, it was very nice.

"Yeah, in Beverly Hills. I think it'll be fine." he chuckled. "Besides, you never know when you'll need to make a quick and low-profile getaway. A valet would make that awfully tough."

Taking in the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, the devilish way he was looking at you again, you couldn't help but suspect that this whole ordeal had been orchestrated. You also suspected you ultimately didn't care; you felt happier, calmer than you had in a long time. Cheeks burning again, you looked away from him shyly as the two of you fell silent once more, the stars struggling to be seen overhead among all the light pollution of L.A.'s buzz as you began to walk towards the driveway, still hand-in-hand.

The sidewalk was dark, save for the elegant street lights, the sky overhead painted in subdued inky indigos as you made your way down to the little yellow roadster. You weren't surprised when he led you to the passenger's side and opened your door for you.

When he slid into his own seat, his hand went right to your knee, petting sweetly as you two began the drive to his new place. You sat back in the plush, soft leather seat and watched the fancy, oversized houses go by. The affectionate hand on your knee slipped upwards after a few blocks, kneading the muscle of your thigh absentmindedly as it slowly worked its way beneath your skirt. This sent you tensing in anticipation, but his hand simply reached your mid-thigh and sat there, warm and pleasant, for the rest of the drive out of the hills, moving northeast towards Pasadena. The drive was longer than one would think, for the distance...if one had never been to Los Angeles, that is.

Overall, things were quiet again, and your mind turned to reviewing the events of the party. When the image of him standing over you, your leg caught in his grip as he maneuvered it over his shoulder flashed across your vision, you felt your swollen cunt clench, embarrassed that your engine was still running after all that. Not nearly as embarrassed as you felt when another warm trickle ran down the inside of your thigh, pooling in the skirt of your dress, though. You fidgeted in response, reaching underneath yourself as casually as you could, trying to gather the soft fabric to soak up the mess. Fretting, you tried your best to remember anything you could about stain removal on leather as the car slowed, creeping down a little residential street lined with condos.

The little brick townhouse looked nice, even from the outside, though certainly much less opulent than the home he'd lived in for the last fifteen years. You'd seen photos of it. This place was still lovely, though, and the smell of fresh paint tickled your nose as the garage door opened and then closed behind you. The room was pretty empty from what you could see, save for some boxes stacked in the corner and a tool bench, as you turned to find him staring right at you, his hand finally slipping further and further up your skirt until he was softly brushing at your slit with his fingers again.

A huffing little moan left you, quiet and tense, as two of those long fingers slipped back inside you all of the sudden, pushing whatever had leaked down your leg back up inside you. You clenched around his hand involuntarily, and he let out a dreamy sigh in response.

"Still makin' a mess." he murmured, leaning in and pressing his lips back to yours as his free hand moved up to cradle the back of your head. For what felt like an hour, you simply sat in the quiet garage, immersed in one another's breathless kisses just like all those nights in your office. Except now, there was no chance anyone was going to come along and interrupt you.

The fingers inside you remained still throughout, his thumb stroking teasingly at your abused bud before eventually sliding his hand away.

"Alright, kiddo. Let's go inside." he smiled, turning to pull himself out of the low-sitting vehicle with just a bit too much swagger and making his way to your side. Letting out a deep sigh, you took his hand as he offered it, cringing at the wet feeling of your inner thighs. The shit-eating grin on his face was impossible to avoid as he leaned in close, the musky, fading smell of his cologne wrapping around you.

"By the way, if you make a mess on my new floor, I'm gonna make you clean it up with your tongue." he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his fingers played in the stickiness coating your skin. An involuntary groan left you, your hips twitching towards him with zero permission; that drew out a gasp when you felt something poking you back, digging into the softness of your belly.

You got the distinct sense that the evening was far from over.

[calliesmemes]

POPULAR TROPES AND CLICHÉ QUOTES

Assorted ASKBOX PROMPTS reminiscent of beloved TROPES seen in literature, on screen, and on stage.

CHANGE gendered words and in-universe phrases as needed

SPECIFY muse for multimuses

❛ So you’re the girl that I’ve heard so much about. ❜

❛ I’ve heard so much about you. ❜

❛ I could corrupt you. It would be easy. ❜

❛ Not every puzzle is yours to solve. ❜

❛ The truth is stranger than my worst dreams. ❜

❛ You will become everything you hate. ❜

❛ Wait. Did you hear something? ❜

❛ I have a feeling this has something to do with you. ❜

❛ This isn’t a dream, then. ❜

❛ All will be well. I am sure of it. ❜

❛ We’re in this together. ❜

❛ You were born to make history. ❜

❛ We make a really good team. ❜

❛ What I did, I did for us. ❜

❛ You’re not safe here. ❜

❛ I’m the happiest I’ve ever been because of you. ❜

❛ You’re my fate. Always my fate. ❜

❛ There’s a storm coming. ❜

❛ We’re not so different, you and I. ❜

❛ Hello? Is anybody here? ❜

❛ You don’t even know my real name. ❜

❛ To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? ❜

❛ Who are you, little girl? ❜

❛ I like you more than I planned. ❜

❛ I wish I could protect you from everything. ❜

❛ I shouldn’t be jealous; you aren’t even mine. ❜

❛ You won’t leave me, will you? ❜

❛ You know you should not have survived that, right? ❜

❛ Whatever you do, you’ll always be my brother. ❜

❛ The light … it’s calling to you. Just let it in. ❜

❛ If it means something to you, fight for it. ❜

❛ Can you remember who you were before? ❜

❛ The reports of my death were greatly exaggerated. ❜

❛ Never again will I let someone in. ❜

❛ I see something in you that I can’t explain. ❜

❛ There are traditions and expectations that you must uphold. ❜

❛ I won’t risk our enemies getting their hands on you. ❜

❛ A knife? Are you flirting with me? ❜

❛ Let me be your protector. ❜

❛ I am more than just a copy of you. ❜

❛ Everything’s about to change. ❜

❛ I don’t want to hurt you. ❜

❛ You have no idea who I am, do you? ❜

❛ You’ll never get away with this! ❜

❛ I’m not who I was before. ❜

❛ We’re gonna be legends someday. ❜

❛ Straighten up, little soldier. ❜

❛ You and I are going to change the world. ❜

❛ I did this all for you. ❜

❛ If you wish to see strange things, then I have the power to show them to you. ❜

❛ What’s it like to be a prophet? ❜

❛ You are not your father. ❜

❛ Are you flirting, or starting a fight? ❜

❛ I’m not the person that my parents wanted me to be. ❜

❛ I need to be touched. ❜

❛ This is where you belong. ❜

❛ I want a life full of incredible adventures. ❜

❛ Let’s cause a little trouble. ❜

❛ Relax; it’s just magic. ❜

❛ I want to go home. ❜

❛ My heart belongs to you. ❜

❛ We are connected in a way that I can’t explain. ❜

❛ I am just as strange as you. ❜

❛ Feel like making a deal with the devil? ❜

❛ You were dead. Yet here you are. ❜

❛ I have loved you since we were children. ❜

❛ I will always find you. I promise. ❜

❛ I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind. ❜

❛ It’s you. It’s always been you. ❜

❛ You should be terrified of me. ❜

❛ I always get what I want. ❜

❛ Why are you the way you are? ❜

❛ You and I are so alike. ❜

❛ I could tear you apart if I wanted. ❜

❛ We make a really good team. ❜

❛ I will always be proud of you, my love. ❜

❛ Aren’t you a deadly little thing? ❜

❛ You were born to lead. ❜

❛ I have existed a long, long time. ❜

❛ Give me one good reason why I should wear this dress. ❜

❛ None of your scars can make me love you less. ❜

❛ Your friendship means the world to me. ❜

❛ Without you, I don’t exist. ❜

❛ For you, I’d leave it all behind. ❜

❛ You say witch like it’s a bad thing. ❜

❛ Maybe we can fix each other. ❜

❛ I’m afraid of what I’ve become. ❜

❛ Get the hell out of my head. ❜

❛ Do not tell me what I can and cannot do. ❜

❛ I do not need to be saved. ❜

❛ I want answers, goddamnit! ❜

❛ I don’t need a name. ❜

❛ Your existence gives me a headache. ❜

❛ Is there anything I can do for you? ❜

❛ This isn’t going to be like last time. ❜

❛ You took everything from me. ❜

❛ I just want to live my own life. ❜

❛ I have nowhere else to go. ❜

❛ You’re my best friend. I can’t lose you. ❜

❛ The most dangerous thing is to love. ❜

❛ I’m doing this for my family. ❜

❛ You have information that we need. Valuable information. ❜

❛ I lost everyone; I can’t lose you too! ❜

❛ You cannot destroy me. ❜

❛ It is my duty to protect you. ❜

❛ It’s only illegal if we get caught. ❜

❛ I have a weakness for you. ❜

❛ I will follow you into the dark. ❜

❛ Maybe I’m not the person everyone thinks I am. ❜

❛ Pretty armour doesn’t make a warrior. ❜

❛ We could get arrested for this. ❜

❛ You’re too good for this world. ❜

❛ I’ve been waiting a long time for you. ❜

❛ You must be mad, coming here like this. ❜

❛ We’re two halves of a whole idiot. ❜

❛ We were never welcome here. ❜

❛ Where you go, I go. ❜

❛ My brother never came back. ❜

❛ Be on your guard. ❜

❛ The light will always win over darkness. ❜

❛ Blaming is often easier than understanding. ❜

❛ I think that you will change the world some day. ❜

❛ Look at what you’ve done. ❜

❛ Your mind is playing tricks on you. ❜

❛ How can someone so evil be so kind? ❜

❛ You were nothing before you met me. ❜

[kedreeva]

When you are writing a fic, do you ever struggle with over-thinking, where you can't move on to the next stage of your outline or the actual story, because your brain insists on adding detail to the current stage?

I'm really struggling with this at the moment, and it's becoming exhausting. I'm trying to write a simple, light, single-theme story, but my brain insists on over-complicating it, to the point where I get so bogged down in details, I can't actually write the damn thing, and end up abandoning it in a fit of disgust and rage.

If you or any of your followers have experienced this, and have any advice on how to tackle it, I would be eternally grateful.

Thank you for listening.

Also, Aris and her babies are adorable :)

The short answer is: Sometimes

The longer answer is: Not really, but I used to, and I didn't want to, so I put in a lot of work to teach myself how to get out of it.

By and large, I have gotten to the point where when I am outlining, if I come across a portion of the story where I don't know what exactly happens, I will just write in "some stuff happens" and leave space for stuff to happen. I have learned that chances are really good the reason I don't know what exactly happens is because I don't have the nearby puzzle pieces yet, and if I pick at other areas of the story, I will eventually find the pieces that tell me the shape of the missing piece, which is much easier than trying to guess. And if I don't find it during outlining, then I will typically find it while writing the full story out. I don't need to flesh it out immediately.

But how does one get from point A (being stuck) to point B (writing stuff happens and moving on)?

Genuinely, and I mean this in the kindest way possible, there is no tip or trick or miracle anyone can tell you, you just have to do the work. Writing is a skill, and ALL skills require practice, practice, practice to learn the "muscle" memory to perform the skill. You cannot improve without practice. You will not write the perfect story on your first try.

I practiced the skill of "write small thing without going into detail" by literally writing 150k+ words of askbox prompts with a goal of 300 words or less. No longer plot, no elaboration. People sent me 3 words of their choosing and a character or pairing, over and over and over and over, and I answered them with short, 1-scene ficlets over and over and over and over. And a few of them I wrote a bit of extra on, if i really liked what I was writing, but I went in with the mentality that this was practice, for practice's sake.

If you don't want to do it as askbox prompts, that's fine. Grab a few prompt word lists, pick 3 words at random and a pairing or character(s) you either really like or don't write for much, and figure out how to connect the three things to the characters in under 300 words. then put it into a folder you will never look at again, and move to the next one. Do this 100 times. Do it 200 times if you're still having trouble.

This may seem like busywork, but I promise it's not. The word limit helps to teach you to leave out stuff you don't need at the moment ("stuff happens, but here's what's important to have happen"), the 3-word-prompt style helps you learn to connect disparate ideas (a HUGE help if you're trying to get from a to b and don't know how they connect- your story-problem solving skills WILL improve) AS WELL as helping you learn to write (full story) from very little (minimal outline). Starting a portion of a scene and wrapping it up again over and over in short form for unrelated ficlets helps with learning how to start things and finish things (so starting a new scene or finding the ending of a scene becomes easier in full stories). There's a good chance it helps you practice story arcs, bringing back foreshadowing, circling ideas (presenting something at the start, going through the scene, and ending the scene looking at the beginning Something in a new light!), and more. You practice a lot of stuff when you do little throw-away scenes, and going in with the intent to throw them away can take a lot of the pressure off. Does it need to be fleshed out if I am throwing it in the recycling bin/flinging it unedited into the void of Tumblr the second I'm done, to never think of it again? nope~!

I'm sure there are other exercises out there. I'm sure everyone's got their favored way of practicing stuff, or avoiding practicing as the case may be. But there's not another way to learn the things you're asking about than just....doing them. You literally just have to do them a lot, and the best way I know of is to work through a list of semi-abstract prompts (and I mean like.... the prompt is "blood" or the prompt is "light" or the prompt is "green" or "christmas" or "butterflies" or "magic" and you have to write a scene) and not worry about the results so much as the doing.

Artists fill whole sketchbooks with doodles and sketches they'll never polish. Racing athletes swim or run miles and miles and miles in practice before their competitions. Team sport athletes dedicate hundreds, thousands of hours to practice before games. Photographers take hundreds of photos and only keep a few to showcase. They make messy garbage, in order to be able to make something good.

Perfection is the enemy of progress. You HAVE to learn to be messy, and to allow yourself to be messy, for the sake of learning and being done.

[captain-mj]

May tumblr endure the pain of all the angst fics on it's sight for eating your askbox.

Well then, I'm really glad you liked the Selkie!Ghost prompt I sent in :D, I loved what you did with it ^^ -X/3NH

(If you want the old prompt just tell me)

Okay new prompt: Ghost is a monster that lives under the bed and in the closets of children. Soap has been the singular person he's haunted, not by choice, just because Soap won't have a single nightmare related to him. In fact, Soap sees him as a friend.

Ghost's kind feeds off nightmares related to them, so he's latched to Soap until he can get a singular nightmare out of him. But Soap is now in 141 and he still hasn't had that nightmare relating to him.

So Ghost now protects Soap because he's grown attached.

(Do what you want w this concept, but I was thinkin Ghost takes a shot for Johnny, but gets that nightmare he wants so bad, it's about him dying in Soap's arms. Ghost's now free, free to choose another contract, but he doesn't want to get anymore nightmares, he wants to be with Soap. (also his family isn't too nice cause "he's the reason SOap doesn't experience nightmares, he's doing it wrong" (No soap is just a massive fan of monsters and doesn't feel scared around them)))

Wow thats a lot, well enjoy ^^

Hello friend! I want to say, I absolutely adore your asks and I'm sorry for always taking so long to answer them! They usually need to be a tad longer than my normal stuff and I want to do them justice! Also, did some very mild experimentation with some formatting/punctuation. Nothing super noticeable but if you notice something looks weird, its on purpose!

Also, Ghost is also a child for the first portion of this. He matures a bit faster but their age gap is only really a year (felt weird writing about an adult monster under some kid's bed)

Ghost had never, ever heard of a kid like Soap. The kid was... well. If changelings were real, Ghost would put money on him being one.

Soap regularly grabbed spiders and played with him. Not the cruel playing of little tyrants that ripped their legs off, but a genuine, loving little thing. He'd pet them and let them crawl over his hands and set them outside when they started to get agitated.

Snakes fascinated him. The first time he managed to see one at school, he came home, sat on the floor and told Ghost all about it. How the scales moved and reminded him of Ghost's arms. Then he asked Ghost if he was a snake which made him lash out and try to yank the kid under the bed.

However, since Soap feared him no more than he feared snakes or spiders or soft kittens, he just went straight through him. It looked more like he tried to pat him than anything else.

Ghost couldn't believe it. Other monsters his age were back home! Bragging! And here he was, taking way too much time.

"I'm going to kill you!"

Soap sighed. "You're always so grumpy. Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?"

"...I guess." Ghost pouted.

Soap smiled at him, radiant. Ghost wondered if he was made out of the sun.

The tea was delicious. He even got biscuits on the side.

"Why do you want me to be scared of you anyway?"

Ghost refused to talk to him about it, worried it would ruin his chances of ever going home. Soap smiled at him.

"Is it like a grade? If you scare me, you get a better grade?"

"Something like that." Ghost agreed. "I need to scare you."

"I will do my best to be scared by you!" Soap smiled at him and finished eating.

On Soap's thirteenth birthday party, far far after when Ghost should be long gone, he asked for some odd things. Horror posters and books about mythology. Ghost knew he was trying to get more information on him, probably to banish him.

Soap never did anything though. He continued to be his friend with so much ease. He also never told anyone else. At some point, Soap realized this was abnormal and instead of panicking like Ghost had hoped or maybe telling someone, he just moved on.

"We're friends. I couldn't endanger you like that." Soap had answered honestly when Ghost asked.

"We are NOT friends."

Soap smiled easily. "I'll get you to admit it one day. I promise." He gently nudged Ghost's shoulder. Ghost hadn't been touched in a while and the fact that Soap could touch him but he couldn't quite touch Soap was... weird. A little scary.

Soap smiled at him gently.

Ghost hated the day that... man put the idea of the military in Soap's head. He inspired Soap apparently. Sent him on this spiral to try to get into the military.

"Fucking hell, Johnny. The military?" Ghost sat on his bed and stretched out. His shadows had shifted from... well shadows into dark clothing. Recently, he had gotten used to adjusting them to look like a leather jacket, leather pants and dark gloves. If this so happened to be exactly like Soap's most recent movie crush, then it was purely coincidental. And if maybe, just maybe, Ghost enjoyed the lingering gazes from Soap, that was also coincidental.

He cropped up in Soap's dreams sometimes, but it was never frightening. The only reason he even knew was because Soap sometimes muttered his name in his sleep.

"It would be great! Going out there, helping people, good innocent people. Going on missions and adventures."

"Your brains being splattered against the ground. Dying. Fucking up and hurting people that don't deserve it." Ghost grinned, ignoring Soap's scrunched up face.

"Stop being such a bawbag. This isn't going to scare me so you're just doing it to be a dick." Soap hit Ghost with a pillow.

Ghost laughed and laid flat on his bed. He went quite when Mrs. MacTavish passed by, asking if either of them needed snacks. "She can't hear me, can she?"

"Course she can. Why couldn't she?" Soap tilted his head.

Ghost frowned. At this rate, he might as well just become human. He already fucking was. "How long?"

"About two years now. She thinks you're super shy." Soap explained, not understanding how terrible this was for Ghost.

Ghost dissolved, slinking under the bed.

"Wait, Ghost!" Soap looked under the bed. "Come on. Are you sad about your family again?"

"LEAVE ME ALONE."

Soap flinched and sighed. "I'll make you tea, okay?" He left Ghost alone for a bit while he did.

Ghost did miss his family. He couldn't go back until he fucking got a stupid nightmare and he was hungry because Soap's dreams were so fucking devoid of any fear. Stupid asshole.

The tea made things a little better.

When Soap finally got everything together to join the military, he was 15. Too young to actually join, but that wasn't going to stop the asshole. He planned to join and Ghost had to go with him.

The problem? While Ghost was roughly 16, he didn't have any papers saying he existed and he couldn't just wait for Soap to come home on his leaves. So he just made some stuff. Fake documents and different things. he was also very, very fleshy. Soap and him had touched hands and his skin felt the same way.

It disgusted him. He really, really hoped that while they were in the military, Soap would learn fear.

But that didn't happen.

Because Ghost was accepted and Soap wasn't.

"You're clearly too young. Try again next year."

Ghost felt his heart drop.

Shit.

This did not occur to him as a possibility.

Soap immediately started in on the man while Ghost sat there, stunned. He tried to smoke away. Dissolve and reappear miles away and back home.

His body refused. Panic flooded him.

No.

Fuck.

Ghost spent... three years? Time was weird. But he bumbled around the military. For the first time... ever, he ate what he was supposed to. Nightmares. None of them were good enough. They weren't Soap. It was better than the nothing he had been experiencing the past 19 years. That's when they reunited again.

Soap flinched when he saw him before hearing him speak and immediately brightening. "Hello... Simon."

"Hello, Johnny."

So Ghost watched out for him. He had to keep him alive and safe. Both because of his job and also because Soap needed to dream of him to set him free.

Soap still dreamed about him. Ghost could hear him speaking his name in the dark of night. Saying it with a tone that Ghost heard other people use in these scenarios. It was different than the playful manner of when they were younger. For some reason, it made Ghost's chest flutter.

Somehow, Ghost became a Lieutenant and Soap became one of his Sergeants. They worked together well and no one ever suspected it was because they were old friends.

Ghost had long since felt human. Any connection he had to being a monster gone. Even if he fed off the fear of his comrades, they weren't exactly Soap. He still had to eat human food and had human problems like cold hands.

Still felt pain.

The bullet went straight through his chest and the blood from his wound splattered all over Soap's face.

Soap's blue eyes widened. He was finally afraid.

It tasted rather bitter.

Ghost collapsed into him and Soap cradled his body. His blood covered them both.

"MEDIC!"

Soap screamed his little head off. So loud and insistent.

Ghost wanted to dissolve. Wanted to sink back into the darkness and hide under Soap's bed again.

"never wanted to join the military."

"Why did you then?"

"wanted to stay close to you." Ghost admitted, panting. His mask felt tight around his face. "it wasn't just a job for me. hadn't been for a while."

"The military?"

"No. Johnny." Ghost leaned up and kissed him through the fabric.

He finally dissolved.

His consciousness floated somewhere. It felt like home. He could still smell the soap Mrs. MacTavish used on the sheets.

Soap dreamed of him. Ghost was rather violently dragged into it, spectating whatever Soap finally put together.

The fear and adrenaline was intoxicating. Finally rid him of the awful feeling of being hungry that had plagued him for so long.

Soap held his body. It looked much worse than it was. The entire world seemed tinged with Ghost's blood.

"Please. Please. Stay with me." Soap begged, rocking his body.

Ah.

Johnny wasn't afraid of Ghost. He was afraid for Ghost.

How endearing.

The bond between them, the hold, snapped. Ghost felt himself start to spiral away from Soap, his body wanting to spin back into smoke.

But he dug his heels in.

"No." Ghost mumbled. "Got this fucking far. Can't ditch now." He had spent the majority of his life with Soap and he was realizing now that he wanted to spent the rest of it with him too.

It continued to drag him and he struggled and thrashed until his eyes flickered open to see Soap staring at him.

"You're awake."

"Fucking hell, don't stare at me like that. And I'm supposed to be the monster here." Ghost sat up, fully healed.

Soap went to stop him before pausing. "Always forget you're not human. You okay?"

Ghost nodded.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He nodded again.

"All of it?" Soap batted those damn eyelashes at him.

"If you're asking for another kiss, you can just lean down."

This kiss didn't have fabric between them.

[actiasteeth]

ASKBOX MEME 057 / ARCANE S02E01-03

All prompts taken from season two of Arcane (2024). Adjust as needed.

01. HEAVY IS THE CROWN

“We’re charged with imposing order. And we’ve been asleep at our posts.”

“There will be no more fairytales of peace until we scour our basement of its demons.”

“What is she doing here?”

“If we follow your plan, we risk uniting them against us.”

“So, what is your solution? Chastisement? A firm reprimand?”

“I’m sorry, _____. I’m not comfortable trusting our fates to chance.”

“We have an ethos. Such force must be a final resort.”

“Then it’s settled: two to one.”

“I can make this right.”

“No. No more rogue mission. No more reckless plans.”

“My arrogance led me to take on more than I could handle, and she paid the price.”

“I thought you were on our side.”

“You didn’t think at all.”

“It should be me up there instead of him.”

“It’s all right, I handled it.”

“I won’t let them corrupt your dream.”

“How’d you find me?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever.”

“Thought for sure you were gonna get yourself killed.”

“Address me with respect, or keep your mouth shut.”

02. WATCH IT ALL BURN

“Well, it’s all going to shit.”

“Have you had enough?”

“Playing coy doesn’t suit you, love.”

“Us killing each other is playing right into their hands.”

“We don’t hand over our people.”

“Struck a nerve, did I?”

“But I promise: it’s the last offer you’re gonna get.”

“You here to finish me off?”

“Haven’t I done you enough favors?”

“The hell we supposed to do now?”

“You’re— you’re alive.”

“You must be cold.”

“I was supposed to die.”

“We'll make this right. Together.”

“I must say goodbye to this place now. To you.”

“Our paths diverged long ago. It was affection that held us together.”

“I never asked for this.”

“Oh, this is quite troubling.”

“I have seen something of this nature before.”

“I apologize for the intrusion. We were attempting to sneak in.”

“Right through their fingers. You must be part eel.”

“They want you alive.”

“It’s always me. Whether I’m pulling the pin or not, everyone who gets close to me dies.”

“You forget, _____? You already made your last offer.”

“You got that look in your eye again. What are you planning?”

“You need not suffer anymore.”

03. FINALLY GOT THE NAME RIGHT

“Can I get a minute?”

“Your first request for an audience was uninteresting. The second, inappropriate for someone of your station. The third… plain annoying.”

“People have lost their heads for less.”

“I’ve come here to settle a debt.”

“What you’ve stolen is more precious than any gold.”

“I haven’t insulted your intelligence, _____. Do not insult mine.”

“You have no inkling what family is to me.”

“It has to end.”

“Everyone in my life has changed. Promise me you won’t change.”

“You realize how easy it was for me to track you down here?”

“We both know you heard every word.”

“You’re using me to get to her. And then what?”

“Guess there really isn’t a crack in the earth where you won’t find me.”

“I’m done blaming myself for your mistakes.”

“‘Cause no matter what I do, I just can’t seem to die.”

“What have we done?”

“Go on. I’m ready. I’m glad it’s you. Had to be you.”

“I had the shot.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I keep telling myself that you’re different. But you’re not.”

“Wrath must be met with wrath.”

[tlnytraumatoy]

Oh boy it's been a minute! 2025 has just begun and I feel like the best way to cope through it is just being the sex toy I was always meant to be...

Anyway, THE RULEZ!

Pls refer to me as either it or they/them, I'm amab even tho I'm pretty short and have a squeaky voice. 🥺 Unless?? You're calling me a good boy, then you can use he/him! Age wise, in fact you did not check my bio I'm on my low 20's.

My name really varies. Toy is good, Dollie is also valid, Toyling?? Is a custom name I made long ago that means " a toy's toy" so like if ur a sub but feel like putting someone in their place, u can call me that too!

I am STRICTLY a sub, there are absolutely NO exceptions! I'm a bit cheeky and soft bratting is my lifestyle, it's not even about kink, I'm genuinely cheeky, if u can't handle that pls don't talk to me.

I adore CNC Dynamics??? So much, give me tasks, tell me I got to get played with in public, (see my background picture, the magic wand? You sending it up my askbox, or DM's, is the equivalent of a task, you may give me the prompt and tell me, for instance, where, for how long, and in what situation to edge or overstim) fair warning I do have trauma related fantasies so if it's messed up and risky I will orgasm due to my hypersexuality, don't hesitate to push the moral area to the upper limit to tease me. Keep in mind me being a plaything applies 24/7.

NO. MINORS. ever, I don't want you, I want nothing to do with you. Go away. This blog is 18+ and not on my WORST day would I interact with any of y'all. You're getting the ban hammer. Also don't interact if you're over 40.

I have very few limits, but two of them are obviously what I listed above and anything referring to anal and cock, you may call my private area a penis or noodle, but if you come up and act like a cishet male asking me to suck you off you're going to get soft blocked at the barest possible minimum.

You're ENCOURAGED to be yourself with me!! I don't judge, I won't kinkshame and I won't make fun of you. I'm a toy remember? Pls don't feel guilty for treating me exactly as what I'm embracing as a form of life. No you're not pushy, nor are you annoying. you can literally send me 50 asks and they'll all get a response.

With that out of the way, welcome to my blog!

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S PLAYLIST

“can i go where you go? can we always be this close, forever and ever?”

a little thank you from me to you—for all the love and interactions for my silly little blog during two months of me being here!

[ status : closed ! ]

1K MILESTONE EVENT PLAYLIST

. . .

NOTE ok first thing first, this is long overdue already bcs now i've gone past 1k—it's now 1.5k! thank u sm aaa <3 i never expected this. i still think my writing is kinda average and all but thank u for all kind words and interacting with me!

so what is this event? simple. pick your fave, prompt, setting, add your idea—then send it straight to my askbox!

how does it work? let us get a move on...

INFO

i will write 7 fics, ranging from 2k ~ 5k words, and mostly made up of angst, fluff or a combination of both

i will choose from what’s been sent to my askbox. so it’s possible for me to combine two similar requests or drop it (sorry!)

each prompt and setting can only be used once. i'll regularly update this post to cross out prompts and settings that are already taken!

anons are allowed, but since this is a followers event, i’ll prioritize the ones who choose to be off anons—i appreciate you for doing so!

with the speed of my writing, as always, please kindly expect delayed releases. there are still weekly series and regular requests—ah, you just have to make me reach 1k now, don’t you? :')) and now it’s 1.5k… really, love y'all!🫶🏻

now on to ordering...

HOW TO ORDER the format: character — prompts — setting — additional ideas

✧ pick your character ! for this event, the character roster are limited to:

✧ pick your prompts ! rules: max up to 3

1. “nah, i’d win.” 2. “i can show you incredible things.” 3. “i just have to ask. will you go out with me?” 4. “you don't deserve to be unhappy. and i don’t want to be unhappy, either.” 5. “i will protect you.” 6. “why did you do that?!” 7. “we are getting a divorce.” 8. “shut up and kiss me.” 9. “you have been kind of obvious.” 10. “if you feel safer with me being here, then i’ll be here.” 11. “it’s me and not him!” 12. “i suck at telling people my feelings, but i love you. i still do.” 13. “i can't do this anymore.” 14. “don't act innocent when we both know what filth come out of your mouth just five minutes ago.” 15. “tell me the truth. what are we?”

✧ choose your setting ! rules: max up to 1

♡ happy marriage: you are married to the love of your life♡ married on purpose: marriage of convenience with your enemy seems to be what would solve your problems right now ♡ lover’s quarrel: fights, words you don’t mean—is this what it takes for your relationship to end?

ah i ran out of ideas. i’m opening the last four slots to cater to your desired ideas—give me your best!

✧ lastly, shoot it right to my askbox! please tell me it’s for the event so i won’t confuse it with the regular requests! add your own idea too while at it, it'll be waaay more helpful!

if you want to use the available setting:

e.g. “for 1k event, gojo — prompt x and x — married on purpose — and i have an idea: yadda yadda yadda

if you want to suggest your own setting:

e.g. “for 1k event, megumi — prompt x — and i have a suggestion: yadda yadda yadda and it should be yadda yadda yadda

end of the word, thank you again for 1.5k!🫶🏻 if you have any questions regarding this event, feel free to ask me! hope you'll enjoy the 7 upcoming fics from this event!

[mercurygray]

Hello! I am new to tumblr and Band of brothers fandom. I really don't know tumblr or fandom well. I was reading The darkening sky. It is wonderful, i really liked Marj also ırene. So I found you in here and saw you answered some questions. If it is not make you uncomfortable and take too much of your time, how can i reach people and make friends on tumblr and in the fandom without being awkward and without make anybody uncomfortable?

Hi Lilly! It's very nice to e-meet you! Thank you so much for saying that about TDS - I'm so glad you're enjoying it!!

For someone who says that they're new to tumblr and fandom, I'd say you're off to a fabulous start, as you've already done a bunch of the things I would recommend you do as a fandom newbie.

Make sure your blog is set up so that it looks like a real person runs it, and not a bot. Follow some people that look like they're into the same things you are. Put some stuff in your profile so that people who find your blog know what you're about. (Done!)

Read things, and tell the people who made them that you liked them. Share honest appreciation for the things that make you happy. (Done!)

Find things here on tumblr that you like and reblog it to your blog with nice notes in your tags. If there's an author whose work you really like, reblog posts they make about that work so that more people see it! (Done!)

Reach out to the writers and artists you like here on tumblr and tell them that you liked their work! This could be sending them a direct message, or an ask, like you did with me, or responding to their requests for prompts or askbox memes. (Done!)

If you keep doing the first four things, I'd say you're well on your way. And if you want to, you can also move to step 5:

5. Join a Discord server, if you're interested in finding more people to talk to.

Regarding the awkwardness - it's the internet. I think everything we do here has a small amount of awkward in it. I have found fandom to be much…easier if I remember what it was like to be a kid with a new toy in kindergarten. It's much easier for us to make friends as children because we simply walk up to each other on the playground and admire the fact that both of us have the same character on our lunchboxes. That's what tumblr is like. It's a big playground and we are all admiring the toys we brought.

Now, you're going to start all of these interactions with good intentions. Remember that some people will say no, or just ignore you. This will be uncomfortable, but it doesn't make you a bad person - it just means that person is in a different place than you are. Accepting that 'no', whether spoken or unspoken, is an answer, will go a long way to stopping things from getting uncomfortable.

And remember - these things take time, and that's okay. You're not going to make friends immediately, or meet everyone in a weekend. It's a process. Just enjoy the time you spend being here. Good luck!

[alexanderlightweight]

*crashes into your askbox* is it time for Wednesday prompts?!

I have been WAITING.

I'm like very torn, I was so sure I was going to ask you for something cute and fluffy with malec and hellhound quarrel. But I think I want to see trubelood heir Alec as an adult. With his shadows. I'd love to see how he turns out having the shadows be a constant in his life. Always on his side. I always found tv Alec never had that (even though technically Jace should have been, but TV Jace was such an asshole to Alec. But I digress.) anyway, yeah, adult true blood heir Alec. Please and thank you.

Thanks for your writing. 😘

i have been excited!!! about what prompt you were going to go with and i'd be happy to do either but i'll admit i was excited to offer a peek into adult!Trueblood shadow heir Alec. yes that was a mouthful but the Alec is also the shadows heir lol

i hope you enjoy this!

-

Alec smirks in amusement as he watches his shadowhunters try and discreetly find him. He’s well aware that it’s a past-time they all play. With bets and rewards but it’s in good humor and it helps their situational awareness, so Alec allows it and never comments.

A fire message is plucked out of the air and the flames extinguished and Alec looks over, reading the message being helpfully held in the air for his perusal. “Oh?” He hums thoughtfully, “mother is coming?” The shadows seems both excited and irritated and Alec knows that it’s because she’s been visiting Izzy and had to see Robert. “Oh hush,” he murmurs, amused despite his scolding. “We both know that mother hates him at this point. She’s going to be more amused that he’s running around with someone barely older than Izzy than hurt.” Then Alec frowns, “though he is setting a bad example for Izzy.”

The note disappears, devoured and Alec lets himself be led, closing his eyes trustingly and opening them to find himself in a store. 

It’s not really him, just the lingering of his presence and he watches as the shadows curl and covetously motion to a display case of rather gaudy cups and tarot packs. 

“I thought we had better taste than that.” Alec teases and he feels the phantom tug of his hair and then he nods and his physical hand comes up to his mouth and he bites, letting blood well up under the point of his canine. His blood doesn’t get the chance to fall, a shadow eagerly wrapping around the wound and devouring what he has to share. In his mind, Alec can see the shadows growing, gaining form and strength and they steal one card of many the moment a shadow touches what they crave.

“Interesting.” Alec says as he holds it, physically in his hands and studies it. It seems a normal card, mundane even. Not one of the many magical ones Alec knows exist. Yet, it’s steeped with a rich angelic grace that Alec knows he can only taste 

“Oh, you want me to have this?” He asks and he can’t help how much he loves the shadows. “For the clave?” Because the clave is constantly trying to figure out how to get a shackle around Alec and their latest attempt — woman after woman being sent out to seduce him — Alec and his shadows are fed up. They agree, but Alec can tell they’re only doing this for him and he shakes his head and lets them swallow him up as he drops the card. “We should eat it.” Alec says and the shadows perk up, eager but uncertain. “I thought you hated bowing to the clave and while it’s exhausting, it’s not like anyone they can send will actually get anywhere.”

Which is true.

The first and last nephilim female who tried to climb into his bed never climbed out and was never found. And Alec learned that his shadows grow ever stronger the more nephilim blood they devour and so while it’s still being reviewed, he’s hoping that his request to hunt down Circle members will be approved.

It’s a selfish reason, but Alec’s learned to be selfish. 

It’s the safest option, without how protective his shadow is.

The card is gone a moment later and Alec feels a wave of pressure, like he’s been kicked in the chest and through several walls and while he knows he’s still safe.

It’s a shock.

Around him his shadows are writhing and he feels like they’re screaming with him. 

—

“Baby,” he hears when he starts to open his eyes again and he sees his mother, a soft smile that Alec once thought he’d never know on her painted lips.

“Mother.” He murmurs, knowing they’re alone because his mother might have softened after awoke as her heir, it’s a private thing between them. Not something the rest of the world ever need see, not when it’s known that Maryse will defend her son just as fierily as his shadows do.

His Trueblood mother, who spent weeks and months and years proving that Alec could finally depend on her, that he could learn to slowly trust her.

She made mistakes and she bears some of the scars from those.

Alec does too, those his are invisible and internal.

Outside of training, his mother has never touched him again with anything other than the most delicate of touches. Sometimes Alec thinks she’s afraid to hold him close and he knows that their sparring is cruel, to them both but she’s the only one he can trust to use his shadows with.

Because they understand and it’s the only time they will ever allow her to touch him in violence but Alec knows that it hurts her, to see the bruises on his body and know she put them there. There’s a guilt he knows is because of him, but he doesn’t understand why she’s guilt over this, when he’s allowed and asked for the help it brings.

It’s a relief he’s old enough and strong enough now that his control means he can train with anyone he wants. It means that his mother smiles more and her eyes are lighter and she touches him more freely and Alec knows it was cruel but she was cruel first and she’d agreed to it.

A form of penance, she’d admitted.

Because it wasn’t fair for him to hate hurting him now, when he needed what it would teach and she hadn’t cared or noticed how much she was hurting him when all he’d needed was her love.

“You’ve been asleep the day. You nearly worried your hunters, but I told

“We ate something.” Alec says casually and he watches his mother still and then nod.

“Another shadowhunters?” She asks, because Alec knows she’ll deal with it, “mundane, downworlder?” 

“A card.” Alec says with a shrug, “it had a cup drawn on it. It was full of angelic energy and grace which was a surprise.”

“A card with a cup drawn on it.” His mother says softly, in contemplation and then she turns to him, “Alec, who had it. Before you took it? Male, female? What color hair?”

“The people around the most were three females, two with red hair, one with brown. One of them was a warlock so we didn’t get too close when they were there. We didn’t want to risk tripping any wards, but they tasted familiar. Angelic almost.”

“And you ate it.” Maryse marvels, staring at him in something close to awe, “and you feel fine?”

Alec nods, “was it important?”

His mother smiles, the sharp kind she gets when she’s about to destroy someone or something for Alec’s sake.

“No baby, not anymore. The best thing, is to forget where you got it from and what it looked like and just focus on what it did. Never tell anyone, okay?” 

Alec nods, because he doesn’t talk to anyone about his shadows, not even the clave.

[sabers-and-other-ocs]

Respond to the following prompts out of character, then tag others you'd like to get to know a little bit better.

~

Roleplayer Name:

I don't usually use one, my name is common so I'm not concerned with people using it but my wife's name for me online is Raven when she streams but i usually just go by Sarah, mun or *muse name*-mun

Roleplayer pronouns:

They/them or she/her (like 60/40)

Muse Name(s):

On this blog I have (in order of added) Violet, Storm, Crow (the Saber family), Henry, Mika, Yeong, Hei Ran and soon to add Nova. I have way too many blogs and muses outside of this one

Preferred Communication:

With ooc communication it preferred in IMs or discord (shared only with those I'm writing with and upon request). I prefer to keep the askbox for IC stuff unless it is the asks on the hub blog.

Experience:

I've been roleplaying since I was 13 with friends, mostly OC's and started roleplaying on Tumblr in 2012. I've done mixes of Canon and OC characters as well as instances of what I am doing with Molly in Hazbin or most muses on one of my Owl House blogs and fleshing out characters more than what is currently present in canon. i just love writing and writing with other people adds to the fun

Preferred Roleplay Type:

As long as I have something to work with I don't have much of a preference type though I tend to do smaller para style like around 3 paragraphs or so

Pet Peeves & Dealbreakers:

-They are probably mostly standard such as godmodding or someone trying to tell me what to do or how they want me to write (those weird oddly specific requests that have a fetishy undetone come to mind, I got a lot of those in the owl house fandom on my Willow blog). -When people come to me wanting to start a thread and then not contributing at all to the plotting. It isn't a deal breaker but it is easier when people are at least upfront of "hey i want to write with your muse but i dont really have any ideas right now can we see what we come up with?" cause i get like that too rping is partnership, you don't have to have a huge plan but having some ideas in mind already is nice or at least telling me otherwise helps us get rolling -callouts and witch hunts, cant stand them, if you wanna warn me personally about someone that's fine, i'll look into them and decide for myself but i wish people would please tag their callouts/witch hunt kind of posts -im shipping trash but i dont like when shipping is expected off the bat even with canon ships, like talk to each other make sure you're both on the same page about it, i dont expect it and i don't want it expected of me, i like plotting or seeing how characters develop whether they're romantic, platonic, enemies, familial, etc

Best time to write:

I work retail with a choppy sleeping pattern and have a scattered schedule so mostly when I have the time and energy or when I wake up at random at 5 am or something

Are you like your muse?:

Some of them I do have aspects of myself incorporated or aspects I wish I had, the most I am probably most like is Storm

Tagged by: @voxuli and @rapid-as-sass-in-nation-team

Tagging: anyone and everyone who wants to steal it

[productofaritual]

(INTRO BEGINS UNDER THE DIVIDER) Tumblr doesn't let u pin multiple posts, so here's some posts I would pin too if I could :D

Watch me go insane in real time

Crazy? I was crazy once

More about asks

More about me but in the form of a bad joke

Art (and not just art) resources

Intro? Intro. I've decided to actually engage with OTHER HUMAN BEINGS. Sometimes. Occasionally. To talk about my silly little thoughts and silly little writing.

Agender, any pronouns/terms (neutral preferred), Aroace

I'm working on an original book called "Bound By Name". It has its own tag and if you want to know about it, be sure to check out #Bound By Name (intro post about it here) (I don't post much about it but I am in the process of writing!)

Author/fanfic writer

Bilingual (English/Czech)

My ao3

Askbox always open! Speak to me! Also if you have fic prompts or ideas you think I'd like/want me to write, throw them in there too!

DMs always open but say what you want right in the first message because I might not answer or panic block

Spam liking/reblogging/commenting is A-OK. I love to see people enjoying my silly little posts

Moot = can interact anytime all the time as much as they like I literally can't say how much I appreciate all of them

I mainly write SBI and beeduo (yes, in 2024) and talk about random stuff

All of my fics are strictly about the characters! All of them! Every single one!

Way more WIPs than completed works

Expect me talking about discontinued works, unfinished works, or those on hiatus, but I'll only be posting the finished ones on ao3! That's why they're taking so long

I only write for the DSMP fandom but some of my other interests include: Dead Boy Detectives, D&D, Detroit: Become Human, EPIC: The Musical, Project SEKAI, Wuthering Waves, Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss, The Magnus Archives and maybe getting into the life series

CRINGE IS FUCKING DEAD DO WHAT YOU WANT

DNI: Basic DNI, just don't be weirdchamp and we'll probably get along. I really don't think I mind anyone with basic human decency. If I dislike something you do I'll just block

Not siding with anyone on any cc drama ever. All I'll say is do your research and base your opinions on concrete proof and verified facts. I might have my own opinion, but I will not be voicing it.

Blinkies and tag sorting under cut!

Tag sorting (started 22.05.2024 so anything earlier isn't gonna have them. Also I just forget to add them sometimes)

#textpost.bzzt - generic post that I made. Includes asks because I don't get enough of them to justify making a separate tag

#rbees.bzzt - reblogs. Can you tell I'm proud of that pun?

#artbees.bzzt - specifically art reblogs. Can you tell I'm even more proud of that pun? (I tend to reblog art multiple times, only one will be tagged)

#fandom.bzzt - fandom related posts. Can be any fandom. Reblogs won't have it, mainly because I'm lazy

#mootsies.bzzt - anything related to my mutuals

#personal.bzzt - stuff that might be a bit more personal/talking about my personal life. No I'm not doxxing myself, just talking about my pets or experiences or whatever

#writing.bzzt - anything writing related

#onceinafullmoonramble.bzzt - my once in a full moon rambles. They're longer than my usual posts and can be about literally anything

#horizonverse.bzzt - anything related to the fanfic series "Event Horizon" by Hellenite on ao3. Will not be tagged with fandom or fic tags most of the time because I don't wanna spam them. I didn't have any part in the creation of it, it's just my special interest

#genshin dsmp fusion - a random au I post about that features the DSMP as a new genshin region and the members as playable characters! It's not a fic and I don't plan on writing it into one, I'm just rambling about my ideas for it. Also mind this when reading about it!

(Made w blinkies.cafe, divider by cafekitsune)

[calliesmemes]

QUOTES FOUND ON PINTEREST

ASKBOX PROMPTS OF ASSORTED QUOTATIONS THAT I HAVE FOUND WHILE MAKING BOARDS FOR MY MUSES ON PINTEREST

CHANGE gendered words if necessary.

SPECIFY muse for multimuses.

“   Something in me wants more. I can’t rest.   ”

“   The sword of destiny has two edges. You are one of them.  ”

“   I don’t want worship. I want understanding.   ”

“   Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.   ”

“   The truth is, I pretend to be a cynic, but I am really a dreamer who is terrified of wanting something that she may never get.   ”

“   Your heartbeats set the rhythm for my heart.   ”

“   Because you feel like home to me. That’s why I love you.   ”

“   I feel my soul drawn to you.   ”

“   I have for the first time found what I can truly love. I have found you.   ”

“   I felt there was no point in telling anyone anything that was happening inside me.   ”

“   The world either breaks or hardens the heart.   ”

“   Am I supposed to be grateful to have survived this?   ”

“   You are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering.   ”

“   It bothers me that no one has the patience to deal with someone who is just sad.   ”

“   I have never understood where the line is drawn, between sacrifice and self-slaughter.   ”

“   Sometimes suffering is just suffering. It doesn’t make you stronger. It doesn’t build character. It only hurts.    ”

“   The past beats inside me like a second heart.   ”

“   My soul and yours are the same. You appear in me, I in you. We hide in each other.   ”

“   You are always haunted by the idea that you have been wasting your life.   ”

“   I am not cruel — only truthful.  ”

“   No one wearing a crown comes in the name of peace.   ”

“   I am starved for tenderness and that is what is the matter with me and has been for months.   ”

“   You? What could one more splash of blood mean to you?    ”

“   Can you hate someone for what they have done, but still love them for whom they had been?   ”

“   I'm sorry you were not truly loved and that it made you cruel.   ”

“   I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you.   ”

“   I am not merciful, and I am not kind, and l am not afraid to make you wish that I was.   ”

“   It does me no good; violence has changed me.   ”

“   So heartless, yet so full of feelings.   ”

“   You blossom under kindness, don't you? Like a rose.   ”

“   All suffering originates from craving, from attachment, from desire.   ”

“   I look at you, and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you.   ”

“   Forgive me, for all the things I did but mostly for the ones that I did not.   ”

“   Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.   ”

“   "Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there's no room for the present at all.   ”

“   We all romanticize the people we adore.   ”

“   I've lived too long with pain. I won't know who I am without it.   ”

“   If you know too much, you’ll get old too soon.   ”

“   Cowardice is the most terrible of vices.   ”

“   I am tired of being brave.   ”

“   I have survived. I am here. Confused, screwed up, but here.   ”

“   There isn't always an explanation for everything.   ”

“   Everything will turn out right, the world is built on that.   ”

“   People do not see you. They invent you and accuse you.   ”

“   Never have I dealt with anything as difficult as my own soul.   ”

“   You are a woman marked for sorrow.   ”

“   Rise up, then. Mend your ways, start seeing what you are instead of calculating what you should become.   ”

“   Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart. You cannot protect yourself from suffering. To live is to grieve. You are not protecting yourself by shutting yourself off from the world. You are limiting yourself.   ”

“   Very early in my life it was too late.   ”

“   I want to change. I want to stop fear’s subtle guidance of my life.   ”

“   You misinterpret everything, even the silence.   ”

“   Lately many years have passed.   ”

“   You’ll bear it. You’ll last out. You will.   ”

[elvisabutler]

1k angst prompt “Did you really think it’d be that easy?” With your Elvis! Selkie au please

and never again i'll go sailing

fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t with brief implications of sex pairing: elvis presley x female reader word count: 4069 warnings: mentions of seal skin. me playing fast and loose with selkie myth. jerry is a werewolf. mention of gambling. mentions of the colonel. mentions of elvis's poor health. mentions of implied violence against other people. the reader briefly being concerned about violence against her. elvis's anger issues. fights in pools. author’s note: thank you for this anon! i apologize for how long you had to wait because i had a whole issue trying to write this. i do enjoy how it turned out and i hope if you're still reading this that you enjoy reading it! this was done for my 1k gala that's been closed since march, based on angst line “did you really think it’d be that easy?” this is based on/in the same universe as the selkie au i wrote. not required to read it but it makes things make a lot more sense. y'all know the drill, real elvis or austin elvis works fine for this despite the moodboard. also seriously anyone who likes this au earns my undying adoration. i truly never thought anyone would enjoy this let alone multiple people so it delights me to see it. i also thrive on comments as usual and welcome them into my askbox.

As it turns out detangling a man who signed away his life under what you feel were dubious circumstances at best was harder than it looked. It's a fact you shouldn't be surprised about, you figure, after all, since the very moment you laid eyes on Colonel Tom Parker across the table with your eyes peering at him over your cards. You knew he wasn't perhaps the most honest of men. You know that carny men were always slippery as snakes when it came to business. Once upon a time you had run into a lawyer who- while a piss poor poker player was actually quite competent at his job. Problem was that you never had quite clarified with him what branch of law he specialized in. His business card didn't even help on that front either. A voice inside the back of your head reminds you to point that out to the man. Partially out of the goodness of your heart but also in the interest of keeping the man practicing and under gainful employment, just so you could use of his services if need be beyond this particular day.

"His contract- it's- it's not ironclad, there's some wiggle room but it's a tricky one to get out of." You end up opening and closing your mouth several times before the lawyer- Aiden, you think his name is, takes pity on you. "You didn't think this was going to be easy did you?"

Your face hardens just slightly, a fact both Elvis and Aiden pick up on before Elvis lays a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezes.

"Down, darlin'," he says before leaning closer so that only you can hear his next words, "down my yittle seal wife. Ain't gonna do us any good to have get angry and start barkin'. Leave that to me."

Your chest shrinks down from the puffed out position you were in as you side eye him, your words coming out a harsh whisper, "Hard to bark if you haven't been able to shift."

It's a cruel comment that you at least partially regret the moment it leaves your mouth. Elvis's face had fallen, hurt coloring his features before he plasters a smile on his face and looks over at Aiden. "Can ya help me though? Get me outta this mess- this lil trap he's got me in?"

Aiden looks between the pair of you and the papers in front of him and exhales. "I can but you have to give me a bit of time. Especially if you want it done right."

"I'm supposed to go on a tour in a month," Elvis frowns, "that too tight of a timeframe for you?"

"Depends, is your girlfriend going to be the one I'm having to tell that to or you?" He tries to quip but you aren't as good at gambling as you are without recognizing a person's tells. There is no way he can do this in a month but he isn't about to admit it to both of you.

You manage a hint of a smile before shaking your head. "Oh no, you'll be telling Elvis that all on your own. I won't have a thing to do with it."

Aiden looks at you suspiciously but manages to compose himself well enough to make it so Elvis doesn't notice- or doesn't care to pay attention. You figure he can sense that you know what he's saying is complete horseshit but for the sake of everyone involved it's best to just let it sit for now. It's best to let things sit and not press lest something blow up in everyone's faces.

The meeting goes for another ten minutes but it feels almost closer to an hour before you find yourself walking out with Elvis, his arm around your waist pulling you close enough that his nose buries itself in your hair as he murmurs to you. "Ya think he was lyin'? Think it's gonna be that easy for him to get it done that quick?"

"We'll see," you answer as you step into the car, not wanting to crush his hopes just this once, "we'll see."

In hindsight, not telling Elvis might have done more harm than good as you come to realize after the fourth argument in less than two weeks between him and the Colonel. You figure it's about the fact that he wants to be let go from the contract without paying an arm, a leg and Graceland to this man but tonight you realize the real reason. You realize that yes it's partially about that but it's also about you. It's about the skin.

"I told ya we've got it safe. She's keepin' it safe like she's supposed ta. Like ya were supposed ta, ya goddamn toad." Elvis's words are muffled through the door but you don't dare walk in to your shared room just yet. Perhaps it's because you want to spy a little or perhaps you're worried about his mood being taken out on you, not that he's necessarily given you the indication that he ever would do that. Normally he might somehow sense you're on the other side of the door but today he doesn't. It's silent for a moment except for Elvis's breathing and you almost make the move to enter before you hear another yell.

"Jus'- jus' lookin' out for me. That's fuckin' rich. Might've started out that way but keepin' the damn thing away from me damn near killed me. Ya would've fuckin' killed me if she hadn't-" There's a brief pause before he launches back into his tirade again. "No, I don't care that she lied 'bout it. Hell, she was gonna come clean. She- it ain't like 'Cilla, she's it. She's it and I wouldn't've known if she hadn't won it from ya. Jus'- Stop goddamn actin' like ya care. Stop actin' like my daddy."

The slam of the phone makes you jump on the other side of the door and finally has you turning the doorknob to get inside. Elvis is angry, it's clear as day from the tension in his shoulders, the way his chest- his glorious chest- heaves up and down with heavy breaths. It's clear as day and makes you feel surprisingly a little skittish as you walk up to him and place your hand on his shoulder.

"Calm do-" you start to say before stopping yourself, and making it so Elvis turns to face you, "breathe."

There's something fascinating in the way that Elvis relaxes at the request. You've known he doesn't take orders from anyone, truly and that if he doesn't want to do something and it doesn't involve his fans and performing? Oh, he won't do it. He is the quintessential ideal of you can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink. But this time, in this case he relaxes so quickly that you can't help but smile and move to give him a kiss in a show of thanks.

You open up your mouth to ask him what that was about before he cuts you off, seemingly reading your mind. "I knew he wasn't gonna wanna let me go. Knew he'd hate ya 'cuz even when- even 'fore I knew ya had my skin he wasn't a fan of ya. Made it worse when I took my skin back from ya," your eyes tighten and water at the memory as Elvis continues, "and he told me that it wouldn't be easy. Told me comin' back that bein' wit' ya'd be hard as anythin' 'cuz I wouldn't know if ya wanted me even if ya couldn't control me. Didn't have my leash. And he jus' won't let it go. Won't admit to himself that he ain't gonna have me footin' his gamblin' bill and lifestyle much longer. I- I'm real thankful for everythin' he did but-"

"You want to be free. You want to do what you want with your career." You finish off his thought for him and move to cup his cheek. "You know you're going to get that, right? You know I'm not going to let him drag you back here. We're gonna get you untangled and we'll make plans to go to let you tour and I'll come with you. You'll get to swim in the Northern European waters. Get to swim in the Mediterranean."

Elvis's jaw tightens as he grips your wrist. "Yeah. If I can 'member how t' shift. Mama'd be embarrassed to see me strugglin' this bad."

A laugh, a small little chuckle leaves your lips as you shake your head. "From what I've heard she'd probably be more mad at the Colonel for keeping you from your skin for so long to cause it. You- You're putting too much thought into it."

Elvis hums before moving away from you. "Ya- Baby, Darlin', ya don't get it. Ya my yittle seal wife and ya got a goddamn seal who can't show off. Wanna let ya have me swim beside ya, wanna have ya watch me swim circles 'round ya. Without that- I ain't a very good selkie am I?"

You want to tell him that's not why you're with him. That the skin doesn't mean anything to you. You want Elvis no matter what he is or how his body betrays him. You want him mind, body and soul because he's already captured yours wholeheartedly. It's hard to explain that though, hard to explain that even if he wasn't a seal you'd still have fallen for him. You're so lost in your own thoughts swirling around your head that you miss some of his words and only catch the tail end of his last words.

"Can't have ya leavin' me for someone else."

Your heart threatens to break in two at the implication, at the mere idea of leaving him for someone else. It's never been about the skin even if it might have pushed you two together in ways you're both so very unsure of. It's been about him wiggling his way into your heart through talking and kissing and coming back after he was given back his skin. It doesn't take you a minute before you're practically forcing your way into his arms, your arms wrapping around his torso and pulling him in tight. He needs to feel how your heart beats for him and how you may have never figured you'd fall for him of all the people but God, you have fallen so irrevocably in love with him that there's no turning back. He doesn't speak and doesn't move for a long while before you feel him nuzzling at your hair and hear the inhale of his breath as he murmurs a few words.

"Promise me you won't take home away."

Promise you won't take you away is what he means you think and you can't help but nuzzle into his chest, his chest hair tickling your nose just a little as you whisper back. "They'd have to drag me away."

"I can't do it like this. Ya know how many people are goddamn watchin' from their rooms?" Elvis manages to keep his voice down to not attract more attention but all it does it aggravate you more.

"Do you have a better idea that works? You told me you don't think the bath works and it's not like we can just go off to Lake Mead. There's a finite amount of options, Elvis." You mutter, running your hand across your face. "You want to practice trying to shift and tomorrow's shows are canceled. It's the perfect time to do it."

Elvis hates how nervous he sounds when he speaks again. He's a man who doesn't get embarrassed, who's been in the spotlight for damn near two decades- there's no reason for him to be so shy about this but it's different. Shifting isn't supposed to be done where other people can see it unless he trusts them. Only Jerry and you and maybe some of the Mafia are supposed to see. Family is supposed to see, not fans who want to catch a glimpse of Elvis Presley. "They're gonna see and it's gonna be-"

"It's gonna be what? Elvis, it is 11PM, I don't know who you think is being nosy and looking outside their window but it's just me here. It's just your goddamn seal wife trying to help you shift." Your anger and frustration are starting to get the better of you and you can feel your body heating up the angrier you get. "Just relax, Elvis."

In a flash Elvis is in front of you, his wet hair sticking to the sides of his face and the top of his head. Another time and you'd think this was the most attractive you've seen him for a while but right now all it does is frustrate you. "Can't relax with ya tryin' to yell at me. It's- goddammit, Y/N, ya don't- it's supposed to be easy. Like breathin' for me. And here I am struggling to even get one part of my body to turn the way it should."

Your first instinct is to push back at him, to remind him that you're not trying to yell at him but he's pushing every single one of your buttons and the two of you are far too alike when it comes to that. But you hear the frustration in his voice and the hurt that his body won't cooperate. He's been able to halt the damage caused by not having the skin for so long but he can't seem to reverse this damage. His body is still betraying him even after he gave it the one thing it was missing. Your chest twists a little at the realization as you watch Elvis tread the water with you in the pool. Looking at his face you're reminded of the little boy he must have once been learning how to shift from his mama and in that moment you swear you feel a cold breeze wash over you that has you shivering loud enough for Elvis to pull you close to him.

"Ya alright?" He asks, but there's this pleading edge to it, a desire for you to answer yes even if you're not.

"Just a little wind, E," you answer simply before moving to cup his face. "Did you really think it was going to be that easy to relearn how?"

His face is bashful when he answers and if you weren't still at least a bit frustrated with him you'd have laughed at how it turns him into what feels like a sixteen year old boy in trouble with his mama. "I did. I learned it once from mama. Should be able to 'member how."

A hum leaves your lips as you shake your head. "You also didn't shift for over a decade. You forget things, bury them down when they aren't useful to you any more. Just- breathe, Elvis. Relax and take a deep breath and try again. Picture you and I in Hawai‘i when this is all over. You swimming around me, nuzzling at me. Showing everyone I'm yours."

The pair of you shut your eyes together, just swimming next to one another, treading the water and breathing until you hear a splash that has your eyes shooting open. The pool is darker than you'd like but you had been able to see Elvis up until now. Your breath quickens as you quietly call out his name. You can't see him and there was that splash and the panic threatens to wrap around you before you feel a nudge against your leg. You feel a large nudge that's only able to be done by something not human against your leg and you look down to see what looks like a seal in the water. The only response that comes to mind is a squeal as you see him, delight overwhelming you before Elvis manages to peek his head above the water. The bark he makes at you sounds so much like his laughter that you can't help but laugh and pull him into a hug, ignoring just how slippery he is.

He shifts back quicker than you think he'd like but it's progress. It's a step in the right direction.

You were right about Aiden not being able to make it so Elvis didn't have to go on the tour and Elvis's reaction isn't pretty to say the least. He keeps himself in check purely because you're there reminding him that Aiden is trying and it's just one more tour. It's just one more grueling tour before he can take easier ones. Before he can take his time spending days at a time in cities if he wants. The reminder helps but once you're back to the hotel and the Colonel is knocking on the door you know what you're destined to deal with is Elvis's anger and depression over the matter. You have pressing issues you have to attend to and it's the only reason you don't stay up there during the meeting and why Elvis doesn't press.

Two hours later and you enter a dark room with Elvis reading something in the low light of a lamp by the bed. Any other time and you'd slink out of your clothes and climb in next to him but you choose to remain in your clothes and sit on the edge of the bed. "That bad?"

"That bad," he answers simply, turning a page with pursed lips. "Ain't gonna get a wink of sleep. Added one more date to make up for my foolishness and- I jus' wish ya were comin'. Know ya can't 'cuz there ain't a damn thing in our life that can be easy but- ya'd have made it better. Made it easier to handle. Ya gotta make him work harder, darlin'. Can't do another season like this. I gotta get outta here."

The aggravation and hurt seep into your voice despite your best efforts. You've known Elvis expects a lot from the people he cares about but you've been trying harder than anyone else to make sure he can run free. To make sure he can swim whenever and wherever he wants. You're the one in charge of his skin, you're his seal wife and he's damn near treating you like an actual one. "E, you don't think that's what I've been trying' to do? That's all I want for you. I don't want you tied down like you have been. I don't think you have many years left in you if you are. You need to be able to get out of this city permanently. Sure, you can come back if you want but not- you need to not be tied down and be forced to come back year after year. You deserve freedom."

Freedom to do whatever even if it means running off from you and finding someone who doesn't know about him being a seal. Who he can count on being in love with him without a skin binding them together. You don't necessarily want to be his legal wife but getting called his yittle seal wife hurts sometimes. As if all you're there for it to be another bodyguard for Elvis Presley. "I'm trying."

Elvis looks up from his book and notes the hurt on your face before setting it down on the nightstand and opening up his arms as a hint for you to cuddle up to him. When you do he presses a kiss to your temple. "'m just angry, darlin'. Keep havin' things get in our way and I- I felt like this with 'Cilla. Felt so in love and I don't feel like losin' that again. Wanna make a life wit' ya. Travel the world. Have ya meet my lil pup." His words trail off as he moves his hand down to your torso, not saying another word for a moment. "Wanna build a life that we can both enjoy, ya know? Don't wanna push ya away. Don't wanna- I jus' want things to be a lil easier for us. Ain't we been through enough already? Jus' need a break from God. Been askin' him for one."

You're not nearly as religious as Elvis but you've been praying for God to do it too. He deserves it and you like to think you do too. It's a simple request that just hasn't been fulfilled yet. You bite your lip before you speak. "Maybe it's coming soon. It's like your shifting, Elvis. Just give it time."

"Darlin', like ya said, I ain't sure I got a lot of that left."

It's funny how something about that night changes things. He goes on tour and gives brilliant performances and you hear about the articles and the reporters talking about how he's more invigorating than he has been in years and it fills you with warmth. He's showing off the man you fell for. The man who has all the energy in the world for his fans on the stage and off it. He's a man with a new outlook on life and it does something to you. It reminds you that all this is going to be for naught if he has to come back her to wilt. Aiden is more a little terrified of you after the second time you come by in less than a week, demanding an update better than he's working on it.

A judge has to get involved and you have to get Elvis's permission to use funds to keep things hush hush and out of the papers. This is a private matter for now, it doesn't need to be plastered everywhere, tarnishing his reputation and tarnishing the goodwill he's receiving. The judge as it turns out takes one look at the contract and the circumstances surrounding it and throws it out. Doesn't make the Colonel pay anything back and lets him keep small residuals of Elvis's income- a fact you're not a fan of but will concede to just as much as Elvis does. But they free him.

Elvis has to get a new manager and asks Jerry to step in at least for a little bit, just to smooth over a transition unless he wants to balance him and the Beach Boys. Jerry does and it's- it works better than you think it will as you watch the two men work together with an ease you almost envy. A world tour is planned faster than you think was possible until Jerry tells you everyone's had it in their back pocket without Elvis knowing. They only realized it might become a reality when they saw how you and him interacted. They saw a hope that they thought was gone for good.

The first night at Graceland is calmer than you think it would be and you find yourself against Elvis's chest, playing with his chest hair as you both bask in an afterglow that rivals the best of shows or the best of poker hands. Elvis voice rumbles in his chest as he speaks. "Finally get to do what I want when I want. Think it's gonna get easier now?"

"Maybe," you murmur, kissing his chest. "But, there's a quote, I think, that goes something like nothing worthwhile in life is easy. And I like to think all of this qualifies. Figure you and I do too." You pause. "I wouldn't complain if it did get easier though. It's been an exhausting time."

"Mhmm," Elvis hums, "think we oughta take a vacation after the new tour. One where I don't work. Hawai‘i and the two of us with Cilla and Lisa sounds-"

You cut him off with a kiss. "Sounds like perfection and like the easiest thing in life for us to do. Four months traveling the globe and stopping there for another month."

The smile that crosses his face is brighter than any sun and you can't help but smile back. "That- That's why you're the perfect seal wife for me. Goddamn brilliant woman."

"Goddamn charming seal." You quip back before he lets out an mock offended gasp and rolls on top of you as you both laugh until you're breathless.

It might not have been easy but it's worth it.

[waltwhitmansbeard]

🥺 pikelan and 3 "sharing something personal" on the trust prompts?

3. sharing something personal now that gocmh is finally finished i am tackling all the prompts in my askbox! this is late c1, where things happen so quickly and in such rapid succession that i can't remember exactly how things go so just fit it in somewhere ig.

Scanlan knows he's earned this. Not Vax's easy welcome back or Vex's begrudging acceptance—those are beyond what he deserves, kindnesses he'll never be able to repay. No, Grog's silence, Pike's cold shoulder, those are a fitting response to his slinking back to Whitestone, tail between his legs. He doesn't know if it was better or worse to arrive in disguise. Probably worse. He usually just makes things worse.

But if he's spent the last year learning one thing, it's that you can't just let the shit you broke stay broken. And if he's spent it learning a second thing, it's that you have to seize that opportunities that come your way. So when he finds himself with a few minutes of quiet, here on their hurtling journey toward the end of the world, he finds Pike, asks her to talk.

The way her arms are crossed, her jaw set at a crushing angle, it doesn't seem much like she's in the mood to say anything, so he starts. "I just...y'know...wanted to check in. See if everything is...copacetic."

"Copacetic." The word sounds acidic on her tongue. "Right."

"You know. Big stuff happening. Gotta make sure we're all...on the same page."

She cocks her head to the side. She doesn't get mad often, Pike, but when she does, Scanlan can't help but be reminded of the way his mother would scowl at him, tired and disappointed. "Sure. Yeah. Same page. Can I go now?"

"I just...I know we've talked, a little. I mean, not really." Gods, his palms are sweaty. "I just hope you know that it wasn't you. None of it was you."

There's a shifting in her eyes at that, and Scanlan wishes he could rewind this last second and a half to watch it, over and over and over. She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, closes it again. Pike has always been so good at choosing her words carefully, but this is a level of conscientiousness that Scanlan isn't used to. "Do you know how many times you told me that you loved me, Scanlan?"

He is a boy. Just a small, stupid, frivolous little boy. "No. A lot."

"Yeah. A lot. And the thing is...when someone tells you something like that? Over and over? Even when you don't particularly wanna hear it?" She shrugs. "You start to believe it." Her eyes pierce into his, icy and infinite. "Joke's on me, I guess."

A thousand sentences start and die on his tongue—it wasn't a joke, I do love you, I was incapable of love, I'm sorry, if only I could take it back—but he just stares at her, his stomach sinking like a stone in water. He knows that he needs to say something, but what? What is he going to say, silver-tongued bard that he is, that fixes this?

She doesn't give him the chance to figure it out. She spins on her heel, storms off without a backward glance. She leaves him, cold and small, and as he watches her go, he can only hope that the end of the world waits long enough for him to put back the shattered pieces of his life before obliterating them for good.

[actiasteeth]

ASKBOX MEME 053 / SLEEP TOKEN'S TAKE ME BACK TO EDEN

All prompts taken from Sleep Token’s 2023 album, Take Me Back To Eden. Adjust as needed.

"When we were made, it was no accident."

"It's all the same to me, it makes no difference."

"You've got me in a chokehold."

"Even if it hurts me. Even if I can't sleep. Show me the way."

"Take me past the edge."

"I want to see the other side."

"Won't you show me what it's like?"

"My love, did I mistake you for a sign from god?"

"These days, I would be lying if I told you that I didn't wish that I could be your man."

"You won't ever have to talk about it."

"You'll never wanna talk about it."

"You were more than just somebody I was destined to meet."

"I see you go half-blind when you're looking at me."

"You gave me nothing whatsoever but a reason to leave."

"You say you want me, but you know I'm not what you need. But I am."

"You sit there, acting like you know me, acting like you only brought me here to get below me."

"We'd rather be six feet under than be lonely."

"If you had a problem, then you should have told me."

"I can't get enough."

"You have become the voice in my head."

"Are you in pain like I am?"

"I wanna go where nobody else will ever go."

"There is always something in the way."

"I wanna have you to myself for once."

"I know what you want from me."

"So you take what you want and leave."

"Who made you like this?"

"Show me what you are; I am desperate to know."

"Anything's better than the way I feel right now."

"Be the first to the feast, let's choke on the past."

"You want the same as me."

"I'll take what I want then leave."

"You make me wish I could disappear."

"I could see it in you even then."

"I was trying to hold back the darkness."

"Are you really okay?"

"I can see it in you even now."

"I want to help you but I don't know how."

"I cannot fix your wounds this time."

"I don't believe you when you tell me you are fine."

"Please don't hurt yourself again."

"I know that you will disappear."

"I believe somewhere in the past, something was between you and I, my dear."

"It remains with me to this day."

"No matter what I do, this scar will never fade."

"No matter what I do, this wound will never heal."

"Just let me go or take me with you."

"Is it always the same?"

"Do you wish that you loved me?"

"Are you trying to live like everything is a lesson to learn?"

"Can you ever forgive yourself?"

"I would turn into a stranger in an instant if I could."

"There is something eating me alive—I don't know what it is."

"Maybe not that you conceal your feelings, they just don't exist."

"It's getting harder to be myself."

"Is it better to just not feel?"

"It's been so long that I'm forgetting what it feels like."

"I'd rather not remind myself and leave it all behind."

"I've tried so hard to fix it all, but nothing seems to help."

"I cannot hope to give you what I cannot give myself."

"I don't wanna get in your way."

"The vicious cycle was over the moment you smiled at me."

"Touch me again."

"You get what you give, you reap what you sow."

"I can see you in my fate."

"When I open my eyes to the future, I can hear you say my name."

"I will travel far beyond the path of reason."

"I need you to see me for what I have become."

"You know my desire."

"No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence."

"I have traveled far beyond the path of reason."

"Call me when you get the chance."

"Call me when you have the time."

"I just need to leave this part of me behind."

"Do you remember me when the rain gathers?"

"Do you still believe that nothing else matters?"

"The night belongs to you."