#(Answered)

[johnprice-asks]

Im the one of the right.

Nikolai and Price sending each other chest pictures at their gyms:

[exilethegame]

Man I can’t stop replaying The Exile (The twine and the original lol). Your writing is so good and I love how you write all your characters! Sorry if this has been asked before or this comes across as pushy or impatient, but is there any updates to chapter 2? The last I heard was a possible release for November or something along those lines. I totally understand if you’ve been busy with other things though!

Ah thank you!

Yes, there were some delays. Mainly health stuff and then holiday stuff. As of now, Chapter 2 is being wrapped up but I'm currently away from the computer that has the files to actually do that. So I'm currently working on Chapter 6 in the meantime!

Here's a Vethna romance snippet from it :P

---

"I was worried you wouldn't come," you confess. Your voice is hoarse and weak, your eyes heavy. But you refuse to fall asleep with them here, even if their very presence alone has you feeling more relaxed by the second. Safe.

Vethna's brows furrow as they lean over you. You can smell the scent of lavender perfume clinging to their hair as it falls from their shoulders, tickling your face.

"Why wouldn't I have?" they ask softly. Their thumb strokes your cheek. You swallow thick, unsure of what to say.

You're used to being left behind. Used to being forgotten. Used to being unwanted.

"Look at me, Veth," you mutter. Covered in bandages head-to-toe, reeking of gauze and blood.

They do. Their eyes rake over your face, flittering over your features. You can see the concern in their gaze, the way their lips press softly together in empathy. And then they're leaning in closer, pressing a soft kiss to both of your temples. They let out a soft sigh then, breath warm on your skin before they tuck their face into the top of your head.

"You call and I'll come," Vethna reassures, mumbling against you. "Always."

[lowpolyanimals]

hello lowpolyanimals, do you happen to have other socials? Was curious if you were on bluesky

hey! i am not on anything other than tumblr :) there are other low poly animal themed content curators out there on other platforms but they are run by different people

[canisalbus]

Hi there!

It's great to see you posting again. I noticed you weren't around and was worried. As a fellow person with depression and anxiety, I hope you're in a stable place and taking the time you need.

.

[anonfoxsblog]

Goodness gracious, your ass is fat as fuck 🥵

I hope that’s a compliment right? 😂🙏💖 to spare my feelings I’m going to take it that way …

[missterious-figure]

Little oneshot about Underboss Sun and florist y/n! This takes place after florist y/n has met Sun, but doesn't know he is in the mafia yet.

Sun was walking his usual route to head over downtown where he needed to attend to some "business". Though, he was slightly more upbeat then usual. It wasn't very noticeable in his stoic appearance, but anyone who knew him could tell. There was a certain soft fondness in his eyes. The look he only had when thinking of something he loved or cared about. And of course, it was you. He remembered the first time he had met you, as he was curious when your flowershop had opened a couple weeks ago. He had wandered in to check things out and make sure nothing fishy was going on in there.

He reminisced on how terrified you had been (rightfully so) when he squeezed through the doors and looked around your little shop. You tried you best to smile and talked kindly to him. You had even offered him a potted plant for free. (Which he now took extra good care of). Ever since then, he had decided to stop at your little shop every time he walked downtown. Gradually, you started becoming genuinely friendly with him, and he began to warm up to you. So small and sweet, just trying to brighten up this bad part of town with your little plants. You really had no idea how dangerous this place was. How dangerous he could be...

He shook away his thoughts as he neared your little shop. He could smell the sweet fragrance of the well kept flowers you were selling. He reached the door and gently opened it, before turning sideways, bending down, and going through shoulder first. Soon he got his big bulk inside and let the door closed behind him. He was greeted with the sound of soft sobs. He saw you leaning against the wall behind the register with your face buried in your hands. Not noticing Sun yet, you trembled quietly, another soft sob escaping you.

He quickly approached you and joined you behind the counter. Hearing his foot steps, you looked up from your hands. He gently put his hands on your shoulders and used his massive thumb to clear away the tears from your right eye.

"Doll, what happened?"

As you looked up at him, your little eyes full of tears, Sun noticed that the skin around your left eye was purple and swollen. Definitely from being whacked or punched. It was purposeful and definitely no accident. Thankfully, it didn't look to bad.

"Oh... you poor thing. Got a little banged up... who did this to you?"

You could only sniffle and sob for a moment, but he didn't rush you or hassle to speak. He patiently waited for you to respond.

"A customer... he punched me when I told him I was out of the kind of flower he wanted."

You paused and sniffled again.

"I think he was really drunk... I could smell it on his breath... I-I was so scared..."

You broke into another fit of sobs, fresh tears dampening your eyes again. Sun could feel a boiling rage building up in his chest. His internal fans roared with fury. But he forced himself to keep a calm composure. He gently pulled you into his body, wrapping his arms around you. You stuffed you face in his suit and sobbed even more, leaning into him. He tried his best to comfort you.

"There, there. It'll be okay..."

"Do you know the man's name, doll?"

"I think it was John Flink? Or maybe Fint... I hadn't heard him very well..."

Your voice was very muffled as you hadn't taken your face out of Sun's suit, but he instantly knew who it was. John Flint, that scumbag. He was a shady bastard that often gambled at the bar that Don Eclipse went to. Sun had no clue why he of all people had come to your little flowershop. But that didn't matter. This was going to be the last mistake that slimy weasel ever made. How dare he hurt you. How dare that rat touch his precious little doll.

John was going to pay, but all in good time. For now, Sun was had to help you calm down. He stayed there for quite a while, holding you can trying to make you feel safe...

***

(I'm not sure what the actual plot of the mafia au will be yet, but I honestly might have a few different versions, changing different perspectives and ideas depending each y/n. Some people suggested having y/n have all of the jobs at the same time, and I really like that idea! But I also like the idea of how each y/n might react or fair with the boys on their own. I do think i want to do both...)

Full picture!

[001x456]

any AU ideas for gihun x inho? ☺️

Gi-hun as the Front Man and In-ho as a Player (in the same game)

Flower Shop AU where Gi-hun is the owner of the flower shop, In-ho is his regular customer who buys flowers from him to bring to his wife’s gravestone — as time goes by, Gi-hun and In-ho become closer, and they slowly and unconsciously develop feelings for each other

Coffee Shop AU where In-ho is still the Front Man, but Gi-hun was never a Player. Before the game starts, In-ho thinks he’ll get himself some coffee and visits the shop Gi-hun works at (so they don’t know each other prior to this). Nothing happens until Gi-hun gets clumsy and spills hot coffee (an entire cup) on In-ho’s crotch

Zombie AU where Gi-hun and In-ho were originally enemies as Player 456 and the Front Man, but due to the outbreak, the game stops and Gi-hun and In-ho become the only two survivors. They have to stick together if they want to keep on surviving

High School AU where Gi-hun and In-ho went to the same school. In-ho was always the target of the bullies, until one day Gi-hun saw In-ho getting assaulted by his bullies, so he stepped in and saved In-ho. And he’d been protecting In-ho during the rest of their school days since. They hadn’t seen each other again after they graduated, until In-ho became the Front Man and realized Player 456 was Gi-hun, the kind friend who always kept him safe back then. Also the friend he had a crush on but was too shy to confess his feelings

Feel free to use any of these as an inspiration for a fic / fan art or edit. Credit is not necessary but I'd love to see what you made from them so I'd be more than happy to be tagged :)

[freeuselandonorris]

honestly would kill to see your take on any kink ever, but I must admit I haven't been able to get your thoughts on electrostim out of my mind since you shared them so. that one. (+camshow if you're feeling it 👀)

ps.: I did have a good festive season, and I hope you did too!! 🫶🫶

glad to hear it! 🫰 mine has been. mixed. but mostly good thank u!

obviously could not resist this one. enjoy oscar being the stone cold freak for once!

Lando had asked to see it, mainly because he didn’t entirely believe Oscar was telling the truth. 

Oscar was cool and everything. Funny, with a saucy mouth on him once you got to know him. But you had to admit the guy came off as — well. Vanilla. 

So when they’d gotten pissed together on leftover Moët in Lando’s suite and Oscar had picked up the TENS machine Jon had left in there, turned it over in his hands and said, “are you into electrostim?” in tones of nervous delight, Lando hadn’t even considered it might be some sort of weird sex thing.

What the fuck is electrostim? he’d asked, tipping the remnants of his glass down his throat, which meant he didn’t notice Oscar’s horrified expression for a few seconds. 

“Nothing,” Oscar said quickly, but by that point Lando had clocked the blush spreading rapidly across his cheeks and perked right up. Even then, he’d figured it was something embarrassing, but not — that. 

He’d not believed it, when Oscar explained it. How you could wire up the same kind of machine Jon used to zap the cramps out of his aching thighs and stick it round your cock. Not that Oscar said it so brazenly. There was a lot of umm-ing and err-ing, a lot of vague hand gestures and stuttering, before Lando got the picture. 

“Fuck off,” Lando said when Oscar finished stammering out the barest of explanations. “Really? You?”

”Jesus, Lando,” Oscar said, somewhere between exasperated and indignant.

“I bet you a hundred quid you can’t,” Lando said. 

Oscar shrugged. “Believe what you like.”

Lando, whose impulse control was bad at the best of times and even worse combined with half a bottle of champagne and a burgeoning stiffy, picked the machine up from where Oscar had dropped it onto the coffee table and held it out. “Show me?”

Oscar gaped at him. He was redder than Lando had ever seen him, but he didn’t look mad or anything. Just — blindsided, maybe. 

“Not now,” Oscar said eventually. His voice came out in a kind of croak, and he cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Maybe — maybe some other time.”

Lando knew a brush-off when he saw one, so he shrugged and changed the subject and tried not to feel too mortified about it. Oscar made his excuses after another glass, sloped off to his own bedroom, and Lando put the whole embarrassing affair out of his mind. 

When his phone buzzed a week later with a text from Oscar, he had to read it twice before he understood it.

Osc 19:48 Hey. I took a video if you’re still interested. No worries if not, don’t want to pressure 🙂

Lando breathed out hard through his nose, blinking at his phone.

lando 19:50 thats the politest sext i’ve ever had yeh i am pls

Osc 19:51 🙄 it was hardly a sext [video attached]

The thumbnail was blurry, a flash of maroon and some squiggles that might be wires. Lando swallowed hard, thumb hovering over the play button. He tapped it.

”Okay,” Oscar’s voice came from the phone’s speaker, quiet. Lando kicked the volume up a couple of notches, watching a confusion of movement. Oscar’s torso, clad in his usual plain t-shirt, and a pair of khaki knee-length shorts, open at the waist. The wires Lando had spotted led out to a hand-held control box, similar to the one Jon used but a different model. 

On-screen, Oscar cleared his throat. “Had it on for five minutes or so already,” he said. His voice was a little shaky, like he was nervous. He swallowed audibly before he spoke again. “So I’m a little — I’m already, you know.” A soft laugh. “Sorry, don’t know how well I’ll be able to, um, talk you through it. Let me just — I’ll just show you.”

He exhaled, audibly steeling himself, and Lando felt himself mirror the action unconsciously. His hands were sweating enough to worry he might drop his phone. He swore under his breath and hit pause on Oscar, heading through to his bedroom and flopping back onto the bed. After a moment’s deliberation, he shoved his own shorts down to mid-thigh. He wasn’t hard yet, but — well. Better to have the option. 

He hit play. Oscar-on-the-screen hummed thoughtfully and then the screen blurred again. Some scuffling sounds that made Lando wince, the screen going briefly dark and then bleaching light again until Oscar came back into focus from the neck down to mid-thigh, standing in what looked like his bathroom with the camera, presumably, propped on the sink. 

“Right, that’s better,” Oscar said, and breathed out again, a short sharp exhalation. “Okay, here goes.” 

He put the control box down, out of shot, and visibly straightened his spine before he pushed his shorts down. No boxers. Oscar, Lando thought admiringly. I wouldn’t have thought you had it in you.

It took the camera a few moments to focus, but when it did, Lando bit back a groan. Oscar’s cock was thick, semi-hard, and covered in wires. A thick black loop of it cinched tight around the base, and another snug beneath the head of his cock, trailing a black wire. 

“Had it on low,” Oscar said. “I’ll turn it up a bit.”

His hand reached out of frame and adjusted something, and he gasped. His cock jerked, filling out in front of Lando’s wide eyes. Oscar made a soft noise, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he adjusted something else that made his cock jump again, a tiny rhythmic pulse. 

“Ah,” Oscar said. “That’s — about halfway now. Feels pretty intense.”

He adjusted himself with one hand, pulling the top loop of wire a little tighter with the plastic toggle tucked up tight beneath the head. His long fingers hovered for a second, like he was struggling not to jack himself off, help things along. 

Lando let out a string of curses beneath his breath and grabbed himself. He thumbed at the bottom of the screen to bring up the playback bar. Jesus, the video wasn’t even a quarter of the way through yet. 

He watched Oscar’s cock get harder, bobbing in midair. Lando tuned himself into it after a minute or so. He could tell when Oscar adjusted the intensity of the current by the way Oscar’s cock flushed red, jolting against his belly, the veins on the underside pulsing beneath his foreskin. 

Still, it made him gasp when Oscar’s cock blurted thin clear liquid. It trickled down the side of his cock and dropped out of sight. 

“Yep,” Oscar said tightly. “Yeah, it’s. Getting good now.”

“Oh my God, Oscar,” Lando said to his empty room, voice shocked and shaking. 

Oscar hummed again, a low rumble in his chest. When he spoke again, it sounded like an effort. “Sometimes it makes me, uh. I think it stimulates my bladder or something, so — just to warn you.”

Lando let out a shuddering breath, blinking hard at the screen. This was insane. Both of them had clearly lost their minds. He wondered, for a brief paranoid second, whether this was some sort of sophisticated deepfake scam and he was going to have his bank account emptied or his DMs leaked yet again. But no, Oscar had said it to his face. 

“Right,” Oscar’s voice came over the speaker. “Gonna take it up another notch. It’s getting — it’s strong now.” 

Lando could hear it now. A faint ticking sound, barely there, pulsing in time to the jerk of Oscar’s swollen cock. Oscar pulled up the hem of his t-shirt with one hand and clenched his abs, gasping. 

“Ah, jeez,” Oscar gritted out, and on the screen, his cock jumped and let out a spurt of liquid. It spattered wet against his stomach, dripping down. Too far away from the camera to be able to see what it was. 

Lando curled his toes into the bedding. He was wanking furiously now, skin slapping against skin sounding overly loud in the room compared to the processed sound of Oscar’s heavy breaths. On the screen, Oscar’s cock was pulsing rhythmically, drooling clear liquid with every movement. Little droplets ran down the shaft, dripping to the floor. The hem of Oscar’s t-shirt had fallen down again when he’d let go of it, and it was dark and damp. Lando found himself wanting to suck it clean.

”Not—” Oscar’s breath hitched on a moan. “Not long now.” 

You’re telling me, Lando thought wildly, squeezing himself around the base to try to calm himself down. He was panting, thighs flexing with the need to come, but Oscar hadn’t yet, and he wanted to see it. 

“Okay,” Oscar was saying on the screen, more to himself than the camera. “Gonna — gonna turn it up to max now, and that’ll probably do it.”

He reached out then and picked up the phone, bringing it closer to his straining cock. As the camera moved, Lando caught a glimpse of his face, red and shining with sweat. 

“Ready?” Oscar’s voice came over the speakers, and Lando moaned at the shock of being directly addressed. 

Oscar reached his other hand out to the control unit, and Lando saw his thighs clench, his cock lurch violently. 

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar rasped. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—” 

He came, untouched and messy, spraying across his t-shirt. Before he knew it, Lando was coming too, letting it get all over his own stomach as Oscar’s ragged gasps echoed in his ears. 

Lando stopped coming before Oscar did. Oscar’s cock was red and angry-looking, still spurting thin liquid every few seconds as his thighs shook visibly. Then the screen tilted dizzily, and the video stopped.

Lando stared at the screen, shell-shocked. His brain felt like it had been hollowed out. 

“Fucking hell,” he croaked to the phone. He wanted to laugh, slightly hysterical. Instead he wiped his sticky hand on his shirt and swiped out of the video, back to his message thread with Oscar.

lando 20:03 omfg wow

A second later, Lando’s phone vibrated, but there was no reply in his thread with Oscar. Instead, there was a notification from his bank. Lando opened it.

Oscar Piastri has requested funds! Oscar Piastri has requested £100.00 GBP.  Message from recipient: “Told you so.” Accept request to transfer funds?

[pseudophan]

At what point of no signs of life do we start to worry about dan and phil

lets give them the first week of january at least lmao, they always take that time off! it just seems more extreme in very recent years because they don't post anything on social media either, but i think at some point they realised that's also work and while the act of tweeting isn't exactly hard labour it still comes with thousands of people interacting and in the interest of having a proper holiday where they can relax 100% i fully understand why they prefer to just go radio silent

[chris-prank]

Hii! I just wanted to ask, if youre up to it, how jacce would react to a darling who is disabled and sometimes ends up bedbound for a day or two at a time because of it? Would it be cuddles central? Would he wait on them? What might he cook?

If thats not your speed maybe just something cute about his favorite type of outfits on darling ^-^

I’m totally up to it! 😆

If Jacce had a disabled darling that occasionally ended up bed bound, he would definitely be at their beck and call. The only thing he would be missing is a nurse uniform at this rate (any kind you want to imagine 👀). Plus he would never think of them as a burden, quite the contrary since Jacce considers being of any help to his lover to be a great honor. If his darling condition doesn’t hurt them too much, he would for sure be the first to volunteer for cuddles and give them massages! He would also try to cook comforting food for his lover, either their favorite meal or typical things like homemade chicken broth. Anything to bring a smile to their face basically!

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

As you tried to drift off to sleep, since you really didn’t have anything else to do, you could hear faint whimpers coming from your side. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think a stray had broken into your room. But as you opened your eyes and glanced down you could see Jacce, with his chin resting on the side of the bed, looking up at you with worried eyes. You let out a sigh before speaking up. 

“Jacce I told you I’m going to be fine.” You raised your hand to run your fingers through his hair, “I’m used to this.” 

It didn’t seem to calm him in the slightest.

“Still… I hate seeing you hurting and not being able to do anything about it.” He mumbled into the sheets and you could even suspect a pout. 

You smiled at his response. Jacce’s eagerness to help you in any way shape or form when you weren’t at your best was always a part of him that you found incredibly touching, even if it sometimes came off as a bit clingy.

“Since you’re here, why don’t you slip into the covers and cuddle with me? I was about to fall asleep anyway.” 

And it only took that to light up his face in that familiar puppy-like expression. 

[rwac96]

Whiteknight, Future AU

After their winter holiday vacation, weiss trying to break juniper Arc's record holds a positive pregnancy test, her 4 children cheered, jaune and their eldest daughter hoping its going to be just one not twins or triplets.

Weiss: *holding a positive pregnancy test, giddy* "YES! More children, and close to breaking your mother's record!"

*Weiss and her four children cheered, while Jaune and their eldest daughter looked on in dread*

Jaune: *deep exhale* "Oh, please be a single baby...not twins or triplets."

[utilitycaster]

thank you so much for your analysis on BH, Ive been thinking for ages that they seemed like the wrong fit for this particular campaign and it's nice to see that I'm not alone. It kinda baffled me that even knowing the crux of the campaign was going to be about the fate of the gods, Matt didn't like... just tell the cast that their characters opinion on divinity would be important?

I really feel like this plot needed more religious characters, even if they weren't outright clerics or paladins. The only one filling that role is Sam and while I love him and FCG his approach to religion seems kinda... cynical? shallow? Possibly just more focused on the goofs of it all. Which is a fine choice in a vacuum but god, what I wouldn't do for this party to have a Caduceus or even a Vax figure so it didn't feel like a bunch of agnostics were deciding the fate of religion.

So here's my opinion, and I've said this before: I agree that making characters who had a coherent, developed opinion on divinity before the campaign that was discussed as part of the character build is important...but I actually don't think it matters if there's no clerics or paladins or even religious characters. I also said this before: my ultimate problem, in the end, is not just the indecision but the fact that they're not even exploring indecision; they just are drifting through a narrative from which they feel disconnected. I as a person viewing the show think killing the gods is a dumb idea, but a campaign in which the characters confidently embraced an anti-god position and took actions in the service of that goal would be infinitely more enjoyable. I do not need characters to live out my personal values, because I do that in my real life, in the same way that I can enjoy characters who are vastly different than I in personality.

I think Keyleth is a fantastic example of both indecision as an actual conscious character trait (during Campaign 1) and a character who is not religious or even particularly respects the gods but who seems to have actually thought through the implications and made an assessment. Keyleth's analysis paralysis and fear of making a harmful decision or being hurt is the point of the character, and Marisha explores it directly during Campaign 1; it is ultimately what is holding Keyleth back from becoming the leader she needs to be, and working through it is the arc of her character. Avoidance or indecision is a fantastic character flaw to explore (Bellara in Veilguard is a recent example that's been on my mind) but it is a character flaw to be explored, and for the character to do something interesting with, and Bells Hells just...as I've said, drift. They keep going through open doors because they are there and never say "do I even want to go through this door? Why or why not?" and the entire purpose of a character in fiction, in my opinion, is to ask that question.

I actually pretty strongly disagree about FCG. I think they took a bit longer than I'd like to click but I actually found FCG's exploration of religion to be one of the deeper ones in the series. I think the party often disparaged it, and the fandom certainly did ("Fearne should make that stupid robot eat his own coin" will remain burned in my brain forever; I cannot take someone who said that as anything but a shriveled husk of a person unless they admit it was horribly mean-spirited and they regret it) but FCG is the rare member of Bells Hells who actually explored the concept of having autonomy and agency - that was his entire arc, actually - and to have this be told through embracing the god of chance and freedom, whom he learned about by chance, was a highlight of the campaign. I would strongly advise you reconsider seeing this as nothing but a bit; just because Sam tends to make a lot of dumb jokes doesn't mean he's not often telling a pretty profound story underneath, and this is a lesson it took me until this campaign to learn, to be honest. But I will say I don't think FCG being here now would fix things any more than Braius does, in part because the rest of the party looked down on faith but also didn't really condemn it. They just made vaguely unkind comments and continued doing fuck all. As my ask earlier today said, they didn't actually challenge each other; they just sort of passive-aggressively bitch. The point that many people made very early on, that Bells Hells has a veneer of cooperation and civility but lack the actual true bonds that only arise through working through conflict, remains true.

Getting back to it, I think the fact that NPCs who are not affiliated with the Prime deities nor Betrayer Gods and even struggle against them (Percy, Keyleth; the entire Kryn Dynasty; a massive number of entirely secular governments including the Clovis Concord, the remnants of the Cerberus Assembly, as far as I know the Marquesian governments, the Silken Squall) are unambiguously against Ludinus and the release of Predathos means that it's not the lack of clerics or paladins or everyday religious people. I don't care if agnostics decide the fate of the world, but DAMN those agnostics better have a fucking vision for what the world should be. I could talk at length about why I think killing the gods is a deranged and unrealistic solution to the problems the characters claim to think it will fix, but ultimately I don't even feel like the characters care about those problems. The titans are still going to be fucking dead, conquest and colonialism already exist within Exandria without the aid of any gods. Hell, Ashton's whole situation could be replicated precisely again in a world with no gods; and as the Ruidusborn were created by Predathos as keys to release it, I don't think there's a reason to have any more but I don't think that's really what Imogen was going for. It's the same kind of thing we call rapture culture among terminally online types: the idea that with one big act of violence you will usher in a new, better age. The idea that violent change is inherently for the better is infantile and utterly self-centered, as is the idea that putting off a choice until it becomes inevitable is anything other than selfish and stupid. I would rather the choice of the fate of the gods come from atheists who weren't infantile and self-centered and selfish and stupid than clerics and paladins who were. That's it.

[chevroletdean]

hi liane!! they are indeed very cute and kisses are my weakness fr🥺 so um how about feather light kisses with dean? also totally unrelated but you have the same name as my sister which is so very cool cause i’ve never met anyone w the name!!<3 (it’s such a pretty name)

feather-light kisses [55 + dean] ── ✮⋆˙

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, fluff, fluff To note/warnings: none, just toothrotting sweet kissy kisses Word count: 400 A/N: hiii!!! thanks for the request <3 and omg, tysm haha, i always feel like it's an old-fashioned name (i've met two or three elderly women named liane), but i've grown to like it. GREETINGS TO YOUR SISTER!

kisses askgame here 💋

Dean’s hands are always on her. That’s a set in stone rule.

His fingers always find a way to glue themselves onto her body somehow. Whether it be holding her hand, resting his on top of her thigh whenever he’s driving, etc.

His lips? Similar story, but so much more delicate.

It’s such a contrast — his rough, calloused hands feel good against her skin. They’re scarred, but protective and firm. Solid and strong.

Much unlike his kisses, which are so gentle, so soft, like an angel’s feather brushing her soul.

Even when the kiss is deep and passionate, there’s always something careful in his ministrations. As if he’s afraid to break her or stain her with his touch.

Dean loves kissing her.

To him that’s the equivalent of breathing. Her taste more essential than oxygen itself.

Feeling her mouth against his is as addictive as pecking her cheek, her temple, any and every inch of her body.

If he had to pick a favorite spot, he’d say it’s a tie between her nose and the corner of her mouth.

The first is the center of her pretty face and he’s obsessed with watching red warmth spread from the middle, across her cheeks, down her neck. She gets so flustered when he places light kisses on the tip of her nose.

As she does with the second option. Though he has to admit, he might like that one a bit more, because it never fails to make you smile. Like his kiss is able to pull that very corner upwards magically.

If possible, he’d do it 24/7, the same way he’s trying to with touching her.

He doesn’t need his mouth to speak or even smile or frown. The whole purpose of his lips, his tongue, his teeth are worshipping his girl.

It’s what he was made for.

Especially at night, in the sweetest limbo of pillow talk and falling asleep, his lips graze her forehead and he’s holding her close. It almost tickles, like her lashes do when they’re fluttering against her cheekbones, heavy and drowsy with fatigue.

Dean’s chaste pecks draw an invisible line across her hairline, like a halo. His warm breath weaves sweet dreams into her hair, whispering sweet nothings until she relaxes in his arms.

Dean Winchester Taglist (Put a green heart 💚 in the comments to be added to the Dean x Reader taglist): @ladysparkles78 @ariasong11 @winchester-whiskey @whormotional @spacecowgirl126

@zepskies @calibootsgirl @hot-and-confused @spookyfunhottub @berryblues46

@midnight--raine @emmy21842 @whichwitchwanda @foxyjwls007 @lyarr24

@whump-loverz @cassieriddle713 @ilovedeanwinchester4

[crazerk]

I just finished the game, and it’s absolutely amazing! The premise’s got so much potential; with its complex political plot, fascinating world-building, gender disparities, diverse origins that truly shape the protagonist’s story, and even the option to choose the kind of beauty your character has!

Could we get a sneak peek of MC’s first meeting with Kaz? Please! Just a tiny one!

Also, I’m super curious about Captive MC...how would her children process having a mom with such a tragic backstory? The captive origin is easily the most intense. Her whole family was killed, she was imprisoned, and then sold. Would they think about everything she went through? I'm especially curious about the reactions of her two sons. After all, it seems more predictable to guess what the daughter might think

All I can tell you about MC’s meeting with Kaz is that it’s going to be wet 🤫

In regards to the other part, their reactions will largely differ cause their personalities and perspectives are stark opposites almost. I enjoyed imagining the boys reactions so much I had to write it out. Snip under the cut! (By the way Arman and Cyrus are my headcanon names for MC’s sons. In my mind Kaz named them after his brother and grandfather. You can name them in the story!)

The garden air was thick with the scent of roses and the sound of clashing sticks as Arman reenacted the Battle of Seven Rivers, using a fallen branch as his sword. His cheeks were flushed with excitement, dark hair falling in his eyes as he spun and thrust, fighting imaginary enemies.

"And then Shah Saminsar charged through the river!" He splashed through one of the decorative pools, much to your quiet amusement. "The enemy never expected anyone to cross in full armor! But grandfather's grandfather wasn't afraid of anything!"

Cyrus sat cross-legged on a marble bench, watching his brother's performance with a mix of envy and disdain. He'd tried playing these games before, but he always ended up winded and coughing and he disliked how it made you worry. Better to watch and remember the details Arman invariably got wrong, he thought.

"That's not how the story goes," he pointed out. "The chronicles say he had special boats made of—"

"You're ruining it!" Arman brandished his stick-sword. "Besides, my way is better. More exciting." He paused mid-thrust, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

"What about your father, Mother?" Arman asked suddenly, his expression bright with curiosity. "Did he fight in any great battles? Did he fight Shah Saminsar?"

The question hung in the air like suspended glass, fragile and dangerous. Your hands stilled in their embroidery as memories you usually kept carefully locked away began to surface.

"My father," you began slowly, "was a potter. He made the most beautiful vases you've ever seen, with designs so delicate they looked like they might float off the clay."

Both boys were watching you now, sensing something significant in your tone.

"What happened to him?" Cyrus asked softly, his keen eyes studying your face.

You took a deep breath. They were old enough now, you decided. They deserved to know. "He died when raiders came to our village.a"

Arman let the branch-sword fall, his playful demeanor vanishing. "Raiders?"

"They came at dawn," you continued, voice distant with memory. "I remember the smell of smoke, the screaming... My father tried to protect us, but..." you swallowed hard. "They killed the men who resisted. They took the rest of us as captives. I was brought to the capital and sold as a slave."

Silence fell heavily in the gardens.

"A slave?" Arman's voice cracked. "But... but that's impossible! You're not... you're not like them!" His mind flashed to the laborers he'd seen in the streets, bent and dirty and broken. Nothing like his beautiful mother who smelled of roses and knew how to make even the shah smile.

Cyrus said nothing, but his mind was racing, pieces falling into place like tiles in a mosaic. The whispers he sometimes caught in corners, the way certain nobles looked at them when they thought no one was watching. Slave blood, they said. His fingers clenched in his lap.

"Is that why the other consorts look down on us?" Cyrus asked.

"Cyrus," Arman protested, but you held up a hand.

"Yes," you admitted. "Many believe that common blood taints the royal line. That I was unworthy to bear the shah's children."

"They're wrong!" Arman declared fiercely, jumping to his feet. "You're worth ten of them! A hundred!" Cyrus nodded in agreement.

"It doesn't matter what they think," Cyrus said quietly, though his eyes blazed with a cold fury that reminded you startlingly of his father. "We are who we are. The blood of kings and the blood of craftsmen - perhaps that makes us stronger than either alone."

You felt tears prick at your eyes as you looked at your sons. They were taking this better than you had dared to hope.

"Does it..." Cyrus hesitated, then continued, "Does it hurt very much? To remember?"

"Sometimes."

"Don't cry, Mother!" Arman rushed to your side, nearly tripping over his own feet in his distress. "I'll kill them! I'll kill all of them who hurt you! When I'm bigger, I'll—"

Your tears turned to choked laughter as you caught him in your arms. "My fierce protector. Always ready to fight the world's wrongs with your sword."

"It's not funny!" Arman's own eyes were wet now. "They hurt you! They took you from your family!"

"If they hadn't," Cyrus said suddenly, his voice very small, "we wouldn't exist."

You reached out your other arm and Cyrus came to you, burying his face in your shoulder. You held them both close, these sons of hers who carried the blood of slaves and shahs in their veins.

"Listen to me, both of you," you said softly. "What happened to me was wrong. But it did not make me less. Remember that – no matter what anyone whispers, no matter what names they call you behind closed doors. You are the sons of my strength, not my shame."

Arman nodded fiercely against your chest. But Cyrus pulled back slightly, his young face troubled.

"Is that why I'm not strong like Arman?" he asked. "Because of... because we're..."

"No." Your voice turned sharp. "You are exactly who you were meant to be. Both of you."

The revelation would shape them in different ways as they grew. Arman threw himself into his martial training with renewed fury, determined to become strong enough that no one would ever dare hurt his family again. Cyrus retreated further into his books and scrolls, but now he sought out different kinds of knowledge. He learned about power – how to get it, how to keep it, how to use it like a knife in the dark. He collected secrets the way their grandfather had collected clay, shaping them into weapons far deadlier than any sword.

[missterious-figure]

Have u explained yet how Sun drinks the blood of his victims?

Suggestive warning: Blood

He mostly feeds off of animals and slashes them with his sharp claws. He pins his prey down and makes small cuts on a none lethal part to lap up or suck out the blood... he normally does this so the animal won't die.

But sometimes he can be a bit too eager for a meal and will just go for the neck, which kills it. He tries to avoid this because he knows Moon can get quite sad when he kills an animal.

(I also decided that he turns red when he feeds on blood)