#I WANT GIF SETS PAINTINGS EDITS

[beloved-calypso]

・ ° ʚɞ ゜𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖞𝖊𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖘 ~ ♡ ・ ゜ ʚɞ ゜ ゜‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

♡𝒮𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓈 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒶𝓁𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝓊𝒹𝒹𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓀𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓁𝓎 𝓇𝒶𝒾𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓉𝓇𝑒 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃. 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝒾𝒸𝓀. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓅𝓅𝑜𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝓂𝑒 𝓇𝑜𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒶𝓌𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝒾𝓇.” – 𝑅𝒶𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓁𝑒𝓇♡

All pictures and gifs are not mine but belong to their original artists. ♡

I. -> II. -> III. -> IIII.

[Note: Hello, everyone! If you didn't guess it, this pac is about how you are viewed by your past, present, and future lovers. This pick a card was originally about 'how' you are as a lover but turned out to be about girl power theme so I went with the flow ~ I have another pick a card coming out soon this week so stay tuned!

Edit 8/18: People of pile 4 please check over your reading again. I added some stuff. Also pile 3 although it wasn't significant. I couldn't help but to keep editing mistakes here and there so apologies if you keep getting notifications of changes for this post 😂.]

~ XOXO 💋🎀

౿૮꒰ྀི The Lyre ๑◞꒱ა

[The Moon, 3 of Cups, The Star]

You are a mystical and overwhelming lover pile 1 😘. You feed people the energy and will they need to feel alive. You're like an aphrodisiac and your lovers like to get high purely off of you. You make people feel like they NEED you. CRAVE you. It's almost like your partner's ache to breathe the air you do, envelope themselves around you, and stay around you all the time because they want to make sure you weren't a figment of their imagination. Some people have thought you walked straight out of their daydreams. They are addicted to your energy and presence and desire so much from you. Don't think of it as people stealing your energy though; your feeding off of theirs too. This is a proverbial yin and yang, a give and take with you holding the scales of power like the effigy of Lady Justice. You're consuming at the same time you're giving. It could claim to be vampiric, but it comes off as dreamy and mysterious. You're moreso like a fairy or sprite enticing someone to follow them in the woods with a beckoning finger and a mischievous smile. Fairy's in early storybooks are mostly tricksters and little devils, but they are so beautiful and enchanting at the same time. There's a reason they cannot escape the human consciousness. You give off the air of springtime, of misty nights at waterfalls and flower strewn glens dappled with dawning sunlight. 🌸

You're a comfort as well as seductress, playing the Madonna when you need to set a lure and revealing the whore once you've sinked your claws into your prey. You're wholesome yet strange, animated yet withdrawn, spontaneous yet quite, the constant swing of a pendulum that pushes and pulls, push and pull, push and pull. You're the exact type who can have anyone and everyone wrapped around their fingers. When you're outside you're a nymph in her natural habitat. When you're indoors you're an enchantress in her home brewing potions and scribbling spells. Both paint a pretty and sensuous picture. You can play the whimsical and silly girl, but you're anything but dumb. While sniffing at that flower you picked up in the meadows you're locked onto your target with discerning eyes, sizing them up like a hawk ready to pluck a mouse from the fields. You're someone who can lure in their target with an innocent face and a flower crown on their hair, speaking honeyed words with opened palms, and when your lover finally settles down next to you, you can embrace and look down upon them with a loving gaze all the while knowing they are hopelessly trapped by you, and they couldn't be more unaware of it. You give them the notion of having power over you, a false sense of comfort you can utilize to take everything you want from of them. It's a perfectly painless process and that's why it works. This is a siren evolved out of water, a woman with the crime of passion trailing behind her like a cape and the undeceptive eyes of a doe. It's giving me Persephone and Hades, a gentle and lively woman able to tame even the darkest and stony of hearts, meaning you can seduce just about anyone!

You're a lover that is exciting and addicting to be around, a drug without the side effects. I think you can be the caring mother men need to be vulnerable, and when they need the heat to turn up, out comes the sultry woman of their dreams. I feel you could be into baking, maybe catering for home events and shoving food in people's mouths as a sign of love (it's also a tactic predators use in the wild to make their target immobilized). I think you like to do anything that relaxes and distresses you, keep in the quiet and just let your mind go into the silence. You are wonderfully sublime, an aromatic mix of shadow and light. You look like you stepped out of a Renaissance painting. I think you like creature comforts, the feel of a soft leathery couch and the low noise of a tv. Other days it's the grass at your back and the wind sweeping over your body that delights you. There's a number of things you want to try and have already done that feeds your spirit of whimsiness. Keep being silly and adventurous. Don't stumble trying to appear as someone you're not. You're open and free and that's what's so enticing about you. It doesn't ward people off as much as you think, rather it just intimidates people that don't have the same confidence as you do to exercise their self-expression. Many people struggle with their identity but you embrace it and the changes that life brings and so you're actually above those that you think you're beneath. You're constantly evolving and constantly at the whim of fate. I would say you're a breath of fresh air to anyone you meet. Never deny your power. This piles energy is very airy, light, and aligned with the sense of smell, which can be just as seductive as touch. Follow the direction of the wind and you'll always be on course for everything you desire. You're meant to wander and ponder. Don't think you're not meeting goal-posts as fast as everyone else. You're just enjoying what lies along the journey rather then the end, and that's a beautiful thing more fulfilling than crossing the finish line. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི The Tiger ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Cups, 6 of Swords, Wheel of Fortune]

Hello pile 2, aren't you the busy body. You are so energetic and strong. You have the strength and will of a lioness, a woman mature, self-sufficient, and unstoppable. I see you working yourself to the bone trying to keep a whole house together and not breaking a sweat while doing so. I doubt many work as hard as you do. They may not even measure to your strength of will. I'm getting a vision of Princess Tiana from Princess and the Frog, a Capricorn who was intelligent, diligent, and fearless. You are just like her I'm hearing. You're the glue that holds things together, that makes something new out of two separate things, the source of support that keeps someone afloat and moving. Without you your lovers would sink into the mires of lament and stupidity.

You're a trophy wife that doesn't just sit in the house all day but keeps upgrading the house, from a one-story, to a manor, to a whole estate. You're lovers are forced to match your speed and make something of themselves. You envigorate them with the promises of success. You're like a lucky lady in poker; your lovers can't win without you. You're their real success, the one trophy in their case made out of real gold. They grow with you, build a life with you, take their crudy dreams and turn it into a reality. You have the golden Midas touch. ✨ You're like magic, a Djinn that grants wishes and turns dreams to truth. Sure, in the real world these things take time and work, but they happen. Anything and everything can happen for you, and in extension, to your lovers. Your lovers need you in order to survive, to reach their goals and dreams and feel on top of the world. You're like the blood rushing through their veins in adrenaline on a morning run, the caffeine in their coffee, the motor of their car that never fails, and the bed they come home to and sink in. These things seems mundane but they are all a necessity of life. They signify movement, comfort, and stability. Excitement is fun every now and then but in real life it's not an everyday thing nor is it practical. You're a reminder of what's real and of what reward is past the finish line. You're the mast on a ship, the strings that hold everything together. You have the backbone of metal but you still hold the delicacy of something precious and nurturing. You have a very motherly aura. I feel you can't help but to take care of people. It's in your nature to help and nurture things into growing. You're a catalyst for change, sometimes the broom that swats someone's hiny into action. I see you guzzling coffee and turning into a tornado of movement. I'm also seeing big cats in the wild. Jaguars, panthers, leopards, and tigers, all fierce and spirited animals reflective of the ferocity of women and the power we all hold within. You know, lionesses and other female big cats do most of the work in keeping their species alive. They're protectors, hunters, warriors, and mothers. They do more than their mates and they do it all looking exquisite and beautiful. Everything about them is ingrained into you. Believe that.

Your strength is unparalleled and there's something that's so wild about you, something begging to be free, a intensity and ferociousness that can knock any man down and force them underneath you. I'm seeing leopard prints, blood, and fangs. You need to let that animal in you out every once in a while, take her out for a walk on the town and dom that red lipstick and little black dress you were saving for a special occasion. She's what's been clawing your insides and she will not rest until you let her breathe. I wouldn't be surprised if your partners like riling you up. Your anger is absolutely sexy. When tempers fly they feel a primal rush going on, a need to let your animals meet *wink, wink*. I feel you display both civility and the inner animal brain all of us humans have. It's astonishing how much we suppress ourselves and call our primal natures uncivilized and obsolete. They are not something to do away with, and anyone that says otherwise is lying to themselves. Suppressing our animal instincts teaches suppression and breeds inner deviancy. Releasing our instincts allows our bodies to give you their full capabilities. That's what your lovers see in you: a powerful woman that doesn't lie to herself and embraces her very nature and channels it into creation. That's why you succeed in everything. You're not afraid to get messy and tear a few muscles. You're a wild cat in heels welding a knife with a little blood on her apron. You're a little crazy but that's what makes people equally wild about you. It's sometimes better to be feared than loved, but in your case the things go hand in hand. Fear releases adrenaline and sometimes triggers the horny parts of our brains. Men are scared of you and piss their pants a little, but they kind of like it. Just know that it's ok to be vulnerable and soft once in a while. Just like Tiana, you will have to learn to relax and know it's ok to have days where you do nothing. You're not an incomplete person, and you are far from undesirable, but you're busy-bee nature makes your lovers want to take you by the shoulders and hog-tie you down to a chair. Deep down beneath that impenetrable armor is a woman desiring tenderness and affection, and you need to water her regularly to keep her from wilting. It's not a show of weakness to be vulnerable. I received another perfect metaphor for you, a diamond, strong and beautiful and the King of gems. Remember how diamonds are made; they come from the common material of carbon undergoing extreme pressures and heat to become something priceless and wanted by all. Perfectly descriptive of you. Remember that you are a diamond among gemstones, rare and desirable above all else. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི The Shells and the Vase ๑◞꒱ა

[Ace of Swords, King of Swords, 7 of Pentacles]

With you pile 3, it's do or die. You don't wait for no one nor are you adept at wasting your time with just anyone. You carry yourself as a woman with high value and as though you have a lot to offer, which you most definitely do. You're sexy, but there's also something inside you that adds to this appeal; your intelligence. Your appearance is beautiful too, but we will get into that later. You're sharp witted and unbelievably smart. Your highly praised for your genius and some can see that that is what gives you your unshakeable confidence. I feel you know the nature of people very well and you could be a fantastic conversationalist. People would pay to hear you talk for hours on hours. It's the way you talk, the way your tongue rolls and twitches between your lips that keeps them hanging onto every word you utter. Even the sounds you make are lip-bitingly arousing. Your lovers love the talks you have and they feel they can tell you everything and anything, but they'd rather just cuddle and hear you speak. There's never a dull moment with you and you open their eyes to the Universe. You're a point of discovery and through you people gain invaluable information. You're brilliant, knowledgeable and a master of words, but you're very selective with who you speak too. Not everyone is deserving of your words and sometimes people are so easy you can't help but to play a few mind games with them just to ease the edge of boredom you feel around normies. You may have an intriguing accent, even if it sounds normal to you, there's something about it so refined and soothing. Any of you bilinguals by chance? There's a neat little library in your head full of information that you can pull out when the time is perfect. You know when to turn on the crowd-pleaser and the show-stopper and even the dim-wit when you feel like effing with people. You're immune to caring what others think of you (a superpower if you ask me) and when you're slighted you may think it's funny. A good verbal joust is healthy from time to time, and a fight with words is much more interesting than with fists. I sense a little mean streak within this pile hehehe. Intelligence is so sensual. Ever heard of the phrase intelligence is the ultimate aphrodisiac? It truly is. You have the key to unlock peoples minds and you can do with them as you wish. Physical attraction is great and all but it's temporary and prone to fizzling. Even the most beautiful woman in the world get cheated on and tossed away. It's inward attraction thats the most important.

Once you've grabbed someone's attention then they've figured you must be different from all the ones they've met before and this establishes a want and need to know this person in and out, what makes them tick and chirp all nice and pretty. You know how to keep your lover on you. It's your sexy little mind that has the breath taken out of them. It's a surprising but welcome thing. You're like a present under a Christmas tree, the gift you didn't expect but came out to be better than the one you wanted. No one can one up you and your a bloodhound when it comes to figuring out people. A detective in the streets and a Playboy bunny in the sheets, I heard. You're like a knife that scrapes against skin oh-so deliciously, a selective taste but one you never go back from after savoring. People are a little afraid of you. Your words can cut like you have a tongue with barbed wire at the end of it. It's almost masochistic the way some men try to square up against you. They fall like a tree and you get to bask in the victory without so much as a wood chip clinging on to your dress. Lovers have to chase after you to get piece of you. You're a rich and exquisite prize to many. There's something about you that conjures images of class and poshness. You give me rich girl vibes. It's the way you carry yourself. You're so sure and confident it scares people sometimes. Even if you aren't rich, you look it. You treat yourself like an exclusive, like a corner of a club that won't let just anyone hang there until they've undergone an extensive background check and pass an itemized list. You're beautiful and you act like it. You're like a model walking in the streets of New York with her legs exposed, marching like she's on a mission. Everyone around her can't help but to stop and stare and feel wistful of what they can't have. You're enchanting, intensely desirable, the fruit that Tantalus desires and futilely reaches for every time the branch comes close to his mouth. It's part of a game you play with them. I can see that you laugh at them and their hound dog ways. It pumps your ego and keeps you feeling high. I can see you're the same way in your relationships. You never overvalue a lover over yourself, and you don't change yourself for them either. You're independent and require for your persons to be the same way, or else they get cut quick and loose. It's not that people think you're hard to pin down, but they feel you are so effervescent, easy to lose. Your partners think you're sensational, a whirlwind of passion wrapped up in a ribbon of classiness, similar to the feelings evoked when lapping at champagne, swimming in an infinity pool on top of a sky-rise, or sinking into the buttery leathers of a luxury sofa with a fireplace at your feet.

You feel naughty too, like eating bon bons on a cheat day. Your free spirited and live life so fast it's like men need to chase you with their cars. I can see you have a streak for danger, a love to live life on the edge. Die hard and die fast, but with no regrets. I think you're kooky too, so extra and out there, the type to walk ontop of the raised edges of sidewalks, skinny dip into a strangers pool, and dance on Street lamps like they are a strippers pole, haha. You live life in the moment. You're dangerous yet sophisticated, the type that likes to watch plays and carry theatrical masks 🎭 to be funny, one happy and the other one devilish (not sad). I feel you're insatiable for what the world has to offer. You feel the depth and width of the planet and wish it was yours. You want to learn everything there is to know, experience everything there is to feel, record the world through all of your five senses. You're worldly, a person of many dreams in one. Your lovers feel like they have to walk a tight rope with you, risk hovering over a den of tigers to get to you, but it's all worth it with you on the other side, otherwise they wouldn't be doing it. You give them a rush of youth and adrenaline they can't get from ordinary life. You're not peace, your chaos, and so unique and individual that within you lays a multiverse of once in a lifetime experiences. Keep being unapologetically you. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

౿૮꒰ྀི The Woman and the Beasts ๑◞꒱ა

[The Fool, Strength, 6 of Cups]

My, my so much yellow came out of this pile. Welcome my little balls of sunshines! You all are as cute as cute can be and absolute cinnamon rolls. At least on first meetings that is. This pile is full of high spirited energy! I feel you glowing with vitality. You seem young and have a childish streak about you, one that propels you high up in the sky on the wings of positive vibrations. Your lovers are addicted to these vibrations. You live in a little bubble of joy and positivity and I have to say I wish I could look at the world this way. Nothing really gets you down, and if it does your quick to pick yourself back up. I feel this is my pile of nature lovers, woman connected to the earth and in high spirits because of it. You like to follow the ebb and flow of life, ride the wavelength so to speak. You may feel out of control over your own destiny, but in a freeing way, like your life is truly yours and no one is in the background pulling your strings. You're like an oasis in a desert, a little spot in the forest to rest in and feel aware of all the other things that live life around you: the birds, the bees, the critters, and the little insects crawling in the ground and over you. Some here may experiment with weed and psychedelics which accounts for your chill, go-lucky attitude and higher spiritual connectivity. I feel this pile is very connected to animals too. You may have adopted a lot of animals or just seem to be a magnet for little forest creatures. You're like a Disney Princess. You radiate kindness and angelic grace and are a woman loved by all creatures that see and know her. Your love for the earth and all its inhabitants pours out of you and creates this beautiful Madonna image. I'm seeing a picture of Mother Mary, serene, beautiful, and otherworldly. It's almost like you are not part of this world. You come off as so delicate and precious, a rarity among a world lost to cynicism and mundanity. Your lovers imagine wrapping themselves up in you like a soft, feathery blanket. You're a source of security to them, a warm balm on their wounds when they fall and get hurt and the ice cream they enjoy afterwards. I feel you love taking care of people. You may play nurse and physically take care of your partners like children, missing their pains and keeping them giggling. You are soft, open and delicious, like a jelly-filled pastries in a bakery!

Everything about you is so refreshing, light and fun. There's an air of innocence that makes you unique, a babydoll made human like like in the Disney movie Life-Size. It's hard to find a light that shines as bright as yours and everyone around you wonders that if they stay near you maybe that light can rub off on them and if not, they are simply satisfied in basking in your glow. You're like a sunflower soaking in sunlight. You connect lovers to their inner child and they cannot get enough of that. With you they can be free and playful, they can release all their worries and learn to enjoy the moment, be a kid again and see life in the pure eyes of a child. You serve as a snapshot to life's most heart-melting moments and once your lovers see things through your eyes, it's like being bathed under a warm, ever-flowing spring. They feel renewed, enlightened, as if they never truly knew sunlight until they met you.

I feel this pile is more spiritually attuned, women that are close to the divine feminine and harness the power of feminity. Your effect is very healing. It kind of reminds me of Fluttershy from My Little Pony. She's warm, kind, and a nature lover, and she uses her powers for the good of others. I feel this pile are participants and donors of good causes, or you wish to be but have yet to take the initiative, but it is only a matter of when. You're an Angel in your own right, a being from high coming to visit the little people down below. There's something about you that's so welcoming and gooey. You're like sunny days spent out on the beach, a twilight where the stars and clouds mingle, and the feeling of being wrapped up in cozy sweaters in Autumn. You remind people that there are things worth saving in this world, that what they can do tomorrow is what they can do today. You're a wellspring of hope, the dream one has in a single night that changes everything. 🌷 Despite all this talk of innocence and rarity, there's a strength to you too, an unyielding stubbornness that only serves to accentuate your womanly wiles. You're always there to help a loved one, and it may go unappreciated because it seems that nothing phases you, when in actuality, you shoulder a lot; you just have an incredible way of keeping yourself untainted. It's almost as if you mop up people's troubles for them. Like a wet sponge to a person's skin, you're cleaning it off and getting their dirt onto you, then emptying the emotional bucket, taking a shower, and going on about your day. Kind of like a sin eater. Ever heard of one of those? Here's an excerpt from Wikipedia so you don't have to search for it: "A sin-eater is a person who consumes a ritual meal in order to spiritually take on the sins of a deceased person. The food was believed to absorb the sins of a recently dead person, thus absolving the soul of the person." Powerful stuff, but I'd be wary of people taking advantage of this. It's easy for people to become codependent on you, and easier for you to become emotionally attached to them. Like cleansing the bad, you sometimes have to cleanse the good too. It's better to take a neutral stance for the health of yourself and others, be the mothering figure but allow for others to make mistakes. You can't walk a person's journey for them, but the support you do give is immeasurable in impact. ~

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

ᴀɴʏ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍꜱ ᴏʀ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇᴅ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴘɪɴɪᴏɴꜱ ᴀꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ɪᴛ. ♡

ᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ

© lolita-bonita — Please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other social media platforms without my permission. This is the only platform that I post this type of content. If you see my work being posted anywhere else, please kindly report them to me. ♡

⊱┈─ ✧

✨️ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Tarot is not an exact science, nor can it produce factually true information. All things posted are alleged and for entertainment purposes only. The future is fluid, and what may happen is based on your choices and actions, not what I and a deck of cards say. You are still the creator of your future. ✨️

⊰᯽⊱┈───── ✧

[tvickiesims]

Garden At Home By Max20 4t2 Conversion

A conversion of a gorgeous, absolutely stunning set by Max20, Garden At Home.

Includes all items + 2 terrain paints. Everything is quarter tile placeable, smooth and non shiny - my usual routine.

All the seasonal plants (stay blooming in spring and summer because too pretty!):

Terrain paints (do not appear in the collection because adding them is not possible):

Planters require Honeywell's garden plot or its edited version by @lamare-sims (if you use our Planting Overhaul Mod) if you want to be able to plant harvestables in them:

Small planter can go on surfaces:

Wood shed is a functional composter (works with Planting Overhaul Mod), sims go through to use it though:

Repotting table is a functional flower arranging table:

Don't let the look of the bench deceive you - it's a normal functioning loveset, and if you align 4 pieces together (no cheats needed for that), everything becomes seamless and fits right under a nice looking tree (I got some for you right here ;):

Bird bath is a ladybug house, it spawns pretty butterflies and birds high up in the sky (cloned from this object by @hugelunatic):

Big greenhouse is an actual lamp (though its light is very subtle). It also intersects with objects and sims (meaning you can put furniture inside and sims will be able to go through it to use these objects):

And to crown it all, the trellis is a functional wedding arch:

Thank you and hugs go to @episims and @platinumaspiration for always being there for me and saving my objects multiple times 🤗

Compressed, clearly labelled. Collection file, picture and Lord Crumps' shadow file (needed for shadows) are included. Merged files.

Download at GoogleDrive

Download at SFS

_ _ _

UPDATE 14/03/2024

Fixed blue flashing inside the trashcan (thank you @lurking-lilibeth for report), you can get just the updated file here. Also updated archive as .zip so hopefully it fixes virus reports.

UPDATE 15/09/2024

Added a second version for the flower arranging table that is compatible with @picknmixsims' Crafting Skills mod. Both versions are now in a separate folder, be sure to choose only one! If you just want the Crafting Skills version without redownloading the archive - it's here. Also added a SFS link for the archive.

[bitchyycapricorn]

Bitten

Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist Word Count: 1.6K Synopsis: Peter’s body changes significantly after being bitten Warnings: Angst, Smut, very fluffy, oral (F and M receiving), P in V, language AN: Characters are aged up. Also, sorry this is one of my shorter ones, wanted to get a small blurb out before my long work. Not edited.

Peter before the spider bite:

You found yourself once again sitting in your boyfriends room watching as he messes with his new Star Wars lego set. “Babyyyyy, I’m boredddd.” You whine, hoping to get his attention after sitting on his bed for almost four hours just playing on your phone. Peter’s head shot up at your voice while a dorky smile spreads across his perfect lips.

“Well then, what would YOU like to do?” He asks while standing up to stretch.

You tap your chin and look up at the ceiling jokingly. “Probably you,” you tease. Peter’s eyes go wide, as shock paints his face.

“M-me?” He quivers with a terrified face before bursting into laughter with you.

“Oh my-just come over here you doof!” You giggle while holding your arms open. Peter quickly jumps into bed to join you, his lanky body slipping easily into your arms.

“Sooo…” Peter mumbles into your neck, “you really wanna do me?” He asks looking up at you and wiggling his eyebrows. You let out a laugh and nod, capturing Peters lips in your own.

“Take your cloths off lover boy,” you hum while sliding your own shirt off. Peter is quick to oblige, throwing his shirt to the side to reveal his small, and quite scrawny figure. You liked it though, after all, he was your Peter and your Peter was perfect. “I love your body you know that Pete?” You smile, leaning in to kiss his chest.

You watch as Peters cheeks flush a bright red, “R-really?” He laughs nervously.

You wrap your arms around him quickly mumbling a “I love it more than anything, you’re so sexy,” into his chest. Peter laughs again before crawling out of your lap to help you pull off your shorts.

“Well I, I love your body too,” He beams as he throws your underwear onto his desk.

“Peter!” You gasp as you feel him bury his head between your thighs. His tongue slowly licking between your folds and grazing your clit. Arching your back, you lightly grab ahold of Peters hair, admiring the way he looked between your thighs. You could already feel the pleasurable sensation of your orgasm creeping up on you, the feeling making your muscles tense and your insides feel warm and fuzzy.  “Fuck, babe I’m close,” your moan, grip tightening on Peter’s messy curls. His tongue swirled around your clit a few more times before you felt yourself release, grinding your hips as you finish. Peter smiles, popping up and giving you a sloppy kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue and lips.  “Your turn,” You hum, flipping you and Peter over so he was now propped up on the pillows.

Peter let out a small moan as you toy with the zipper of his jeans, truthfully struggling to get them off. Peter lifts his hips, allowing you enough room to discard both his pants and boxers. A smile plays on your lips as your hand slowly strokes his cock. He was around 6 inches and fit just about perfectly in your mouth. You found yourself admiring his aching cock as you lay down on your tummy, eagerly taking him in your mouth. Peter let out a gasp as you bob your head, enjoying the feeling oh him hitting the back of your throat. “N-not too m-much uuuhh longer, I’m-I’m already close,” Peter stutterers, feeling his cock begin to twitch in your mouth. You slowly remove your mouth from him, making a loud popping sound as he flew out of your mouth completely.

“Ready?” You hum, as you sat up and position yourself on top of him. Peter nodded quickly, squeezing your tits as you slowly sunk down onto his cock. “Oh-fuck Peter,” You moan, throwing your head back as you slowly slid up and down his hard cock. “Fuck you feel so good, you-fuck-you fill me so well,” You whine as you continue to bounce. You place your hands on his smooth chest to balance yourself, before slowly grasping onto his shoulders.

You continue to ride him, loving the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. “I-I’m close Y/N,” Peter moans , bucking his hips up into yours. Within a few minutes Peter was pulling out of you and finishing on his stomach while you helped him clean up.

When you find out about the spider bite:

“Peter what the fuck,” You gasp, staring at your mostly naked boyfriend standing in the middle of his room.

Peter’s head snaps to the now open door, staring at you like he had just committed a crime. “Y/N…I don’t know what’s going on with me.” Peter’s voice cracks. Your eyes skim his now extremely muscular body, with his new set of abs, broad shoulders, and thick arms. “Y/N, I don’t know what to do,” Peter cries, feeling suddenly out of place in his new body.

“Hey, it’s okay, do you know what happened babe?” You ask softly, as you close the door and begin to approach Peters crying figure. Your arms wrap around him, embracing him in a tight hug. His arms squeeze you, and you became suddenly hyper aware of just how strong his grip was and how every one of his muscles felt against your bare arms.

Peter heaved a few more sobs before sitting down onto the bed with you. “Remember that spider exhibit I went to visit a few days ago? The one you refused to go to with me?” Peter asked, his red puffy eyes staring into yours.

You nod, touching his face and replying with a soft “Yes.”

“Well,” Peter sighs, “One of the spiders was missing from it’s compartment, and while I was there I felt a sharp bite on my neck, and the next thing I know I can see and hear things so much better. I can stick to the wall! I’ve gotten bigger…everywhere! And I’m hungry and sweaty and I feel amazing yet so sick at the same time.” He rambles.

“So wait…you’re telling me that you got bitten by a radioactive spider and are now some bulky ass man who has like super hearing?” You ask furrowing your eyebrows.

“Yes…?” Peter replies sucking in another breath.

“Okay…wait…did you say sticking to walls?”

Peter with the spider bite:

You and Peter had been adjusting to the new spider bite for about three weeks now, trying to figure out all the new things Peter could do along with helping him get used to experiencing his new and enhanced senses, oh, and the Peter tingle. You both had been so wrapped up in figuring stuff out it was only now as you were laying in Peters bed on a rather warm day that you realize neither of you have had sex for over a month. In fact, the last time you saw Peter even close to naked was the day you found out about the spider bite and he was just in a pair of boxers. Since then he seems so nervous to even take his shirt off around you.

“Hey Peter?” You ask turning to your boyfriend who is hiding in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants on an almost 90 degree day. “You can take off your sweatshirt you know? I don’t bite, unless you want me to.” You tease, tugging at the warm material of his sweatshirt.

“I’m cold,” Peter lies, still looking at his phone.

“Peter?” You ask again, finally getting Peter to turn to you. “Why won’t you let me see your body anymore?” You finish quietly.

Peter frowns, realizing that you’d finally noticed his hesitation to let you see him with nothing on. “I’m scared,” he answers honestly. “You’d always tell me how much you loved the way I looked, and how you liked my build before, all of that, and now I look different. I know that typically people favor a more muscular build but what if you don’t? What if you only like what I used to look like?”

You stare at Peter for a moment before a warm smile spread across your pink lips. “Oh, Peter,” you sigh, sitting up and fully turning toward him. You gently cup his face with your palm, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “Of course I loved your body before, but I love it now too. I really don’t care what your build is sweetheart, I just care that you’re my Peter. I fell in love with your goofy smile and your absurd jokes, not your body after some hookup. Besides, bodies change, mines changed since we’ve met, and you still love mine.” You smile kissing his lips softly.

“You’re right” Peter sighs pulling away from the kiss. “I was just so worried you’d view me differently,” he mumbles.

“I know, but hey, I’m going to love you regardless,”

“Okay good because I’m about to die of heat,” Peter groans slipping off his sweatshirt followed by his sweatpants and boxers. His naked boy lays spread out across the sheets, radiating previously trapped heat.

You let out a laugh, slowly running your hand up his muscular chest. “You look hot babes,” You tease, slowly massaging his right shoulder.

“I am hot, I am sweating, look at me!” Peter groans again.

“I meant you’re like sexy hot,” You giggle, running your hand down his arm. “But i could make you even hotter if you want,” You wink at him.

Peter raised an eyebrow at you, feeling blood rush down to his now hardening cock. “It that so?” he asks with a small smirk. “I mean, it has been forever,” he admits, rolling onto his side to face you.

You hum, placing a kiss to his lips before scanning his body again. “Um Peter…” you ask slowly.

“Yes love?” He asks slowly placing his hand on your thigh.

“D-did your dick get bigger?” You laugh nervously remembering just how much it already filled you up before.

“Yeah, extra two inches, wanna try it out?” Peter winks, before tackling you onto his soft mattress.

+++

TAGLIST

[multifandomme]

Do It For Me

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Female Reader

Summary: Natasha receives a punishment for her bratty behaviour following her return from an undisclosed mission.

Genre: Smut, (daddy kink, pet names, spanking, hair-pulling, power dynamics, choking, fingering, strap ons, bratting, light humiliation, mentions of injury), not suitable for minors.

Word Count: 3.4k.

This piece is for day 4 of kinktober under the 'bratting' prompt. This is an updated and edited version of a work I originally posted in 2022.

More works from me here. || Masterlist here. || Kinktober 2024 Masterlist here.

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The uncertainty that plagued you during Natasha’s absence was something you couldn’t quite grow accustomed to, something that always left you wondering what version of Natasha would be gifted back to you upon her return. Often times, she would be relatively unaffected, perhaps even entirely unscathed but there were instances that would render her unrecognisable, weak.

The only comfort you could find amongst the solitude had existed in the form of crossing days off the calendar with a hopeful smile, reassuring yourself that she could hold her own, that she would come back. And thus far, she always had.

Beyond the window, the sun had begun to set, painting the sky in terracotta. You hummed softly to yourself as you observed it, your lips pursed around the coffee mug in which you held. It was far too late for caffeine, but Natasha loved the fragrance of it and you wanted to welcome her home with all of the cosy comforts that she enjoyed.

Tea lights decorated the coffee table, a few rose petals scattered for good measure as you waited, the time painstaking as it passed by. Light vanilla wafted up from the kindling flames, the discernible fragrance of home permeating, the absence of its missing piece felt tenfold when you examined the emptiness of the room. Bereft of Natasha, her fiery hair and husky laughter, your home lacked any true sentiment at all. 

A familiar thud pried you from your state of longing, the front door swinging open gradually until Natasha crossed the threshold. Tousled red tresses were the only thing you had the chance to catch sight of before the woman launched at you, her legs wrapping tightly around your waist as she clung to you.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted, her words muffled lightly due to the way her mouth pressed closely against the material of your shirt. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Words felt insignificant when your actions seemed to transcend them, every curvature of her body felt against your own as you held the crown of her head protectively. The remnant scent of her perfume invaded your nose as you kissed atop her hair, the world halting in its tracks for a while. Softly, you returned her feet to solid ground, gentle fingers taking a firm hold of her chin as you inspected her face for any sign of injury.

It was commonplace after a mission and a routine you were not prepared to abandon despite Natasha’s complete agitation with it. After being away for so long, the redhead always grew impatient, more needy than usual, solely focused on tugging your hand to lead you to the bedroom. But you knew better than that, knew that Natasha would rather silently bear the pain of her bruises than risk being denied of your touch.

From the exterior, her facade of health seemed to ring true as she stood with a seductive smile, her nimble fingers drawing aimless patterns against your sternum. Her tongue swiped against her lips as she stared at you, unrivalled passion shooting across her irises as the blackness of her pupils bled outwards.

With the waistband of your jeans she guided you to the sofa, moving to perch upon the arm of it, her sights set on reaching up and grasping you by the collar. Your body all but scorched as her gaze studied every inch of you, stilling when she noted the bulge shrouded in your jeans, maintaining the veneer that she had only just noticed its existence.

“You have something that belongs to me,” Natasha whispered, sultrily, her eyes never straying from boring into your own.

Her intentions were not lost on you, her eyes wide and feigning innocence as a means to begin her attack on your self-control. Succumbing was not an option, at least not yet and once she arrived at this unfortunate reality, a short burst of air exuded from her nose in frustration.

Patience was a virtue that seemed to elude Natasha and tended to be the origin of all of the punishments you had ever needed to deliver. Your inaction only seemed to feed into her misbehaviour, her fingers making quick work of your zip as she attempted to grasp ahold of the hidden appendage.

Abruptly, you forced her backwards, observing with a mischievous smirk as she toppled down onto the sofa below, her body jolting lightly against the pillows. A grunt emanated from her, accompanied by an irritable sigh as she accepted her defeat, her eyes sparking with a familiar zeal as you moved to hover over her.

Dwindling patience saw her hands clawing against your back, coaxing you nearer until you collapsed on top of her, your bodies sculpted together as if they were at one.

“Ah!"

Immediately, you retracted from your position, Natasha scrambling to bite away the pain that glued brazenly upon her face. Of course, she batted her bodily reaction away without a thought in the hopes that you hadn’t noticed. But nothing escaped you.

“Not so fast,” you asserted, eyes narrowed as you tore away at the veil of her deception, her little smile fast fading as she acknowledged your blossoming suspicion.

“I’m fine!” She exclaimed, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at you, though you knew her anger was only a result of having been caught out.

You shook your head avidly, a series of scoffs escaping you as you expressed your disappointment. Softly, you leaned down, towering over her sitting position upon the sofa and placed a feather-like kiss to her lips, almost rendered mindless as you recalled the feeling of them. Hastily, you gathered your strength and retreated, your thumb brushing across the plump surface of her pink lips and basking in the docility that clouded her features.

Almost as soon as you had touched her lips, you redirected your attention elsewhere, lower territories, gaze reclaimed by the buttons of her shirt. With a hand on each side of the garment, you yanked once until it split, amusement plaguing your face as you watched the buttons fly through the air in dispersal. Natasha gasped loudly, teeth marks etched firmly into the flesh of her lips as she regarded you with lustful eyes, though once you noted the condition of her skin, your jaw flexed at its own accord.

This had evidently been one of the more taxing missions, the ones that left scars that were both mental and physical, destined to persist. Natasha’s gaze fell to the floor, averted and ashamed at the bruises that you had exposed, blemishes of blue and purple scattered along her porcelain skin. The redhead’s hand bolted outwards, taking hold of your wrist as she silently pleaded with you, consumed by her urges that remained ignored, unsatisfied.

“Please,” she breathed, guiding your hands to ghost her bra-clad breasts, her flesh jutting out of its confinements and momentarily distracting you. “I want you… I can take it, Daddy.”

The sudden use of the title did not go unnoticed, though you couldn’t quite tell who she was trying to convince of her readiness.

“Princess,” you warned, soberly. “Let me take care of you first.”

Without giving Natasha a chance to formulate an inevitable rebuttal, you exited in the direction of the kitchen to retrieve all of the ice packs you had amassed over the months. And when you returned to tend to Natasha, you were shocked to find her sprawled out awaiting you, the remainder of her clothes abandoned beside her as she tried to will you into temptation.

“Ice play?” she mused, sarcastically, adjusting purposely in order to flash a glimpse of her exposed pussy. “You know how I like that, Daddy.”

Luckily, you had expected some form of clever remark, rolling your eyes for a brief moment to reiterate the fact that you were unimpressed, unfazed. 

“Behave yourself,” you cautioned, enlisting a serious tone as Natasha tilted her head slightly to gauge its validity.

You had hoped that her stint of silence had meant that you had won, but when that cunning smirk took possession of her features you knew that she had no intention of stopping until she arrived at a boundary.

“Or what?” She countered, coolly, her fingers caressing languidly at the skin of her breasts, daring to pass over her nipples that immediately grew rigid in response. “If you’re not going to touch me then you won’t be able to punish me either.”

Retaliation was futile in a case like this and would only add fuel to Natasha’s blazing fire. Instead, you paid no mind to her words or her indecency, merely pressing the ice pack to each bruise for a few seconds before discarding it for a new one. The frozen cubes melted in rapid succession, perhaps from the additional heat Natasha was radiating through arousal alone, her body shifting uncomfortably beneath the biting temperature that you had exposed her to.

Winces emitted through gritted teeth, only to be hidden away once your eyes flitted over to meet hers, her expression quickly replaced by an obvious exasperation at your expense. After successfully reducing the sting in the top half of her body, you travelled lower, a particularly gnarly bruise on her thigh capturing your attention. Natasha tensed up and at first, you had assumed it had been due to the pain, that was until you saw her stifling a devilish grin.

“Open your legs,” you commanded, your own patience thinning as her defiance persisted. “I won’t ask you again, princess.”

“But you told me to behave,” Natasha reminded, cleverly, accommodating the ice pack with the tiniest of movements, the space she permitted barely an improvement from before.

The skin of her thighs was painfully soft below the pads of your fingers, a sterling effort required on your behalf as not to act on the impulses that corrupted your mind. And it was as if Natasha had heard the mantras of self-control chanting in your brain and had ultimately decided to inflame the situation with fervency, her hand finding home in the valley between her thighs.

“Mhmm, Daddy,” she drawled, raunchily, her eyebrows sewn together as she basked in the pleasure in which she indulged, her eyes fluttering in sporadic intervals to assure your continual observation of her. “You feel so… good.”

In that instance, Natasha’s petulance had rendered you speechless, blindsided by her motivation to undermine you in every way imaginable. Outspokenness had always been an admirable part of her personality, but this had reached a newfound level. Perhaps bending to her will on one occasion would teach her the valuable lesson that you had attempted and failed to do so many times before.

In any case, it was worth a try if not solely to watch that smug smile dissipate into stark fear of what was to come. If she wanted for you to forsake your compassion and neglect her pain, then you would gladly bestow upon her the consequences.

“Have it your way,” you conceded with a passive shrug, watching intently as you saw the confidence drain from her face, an audible gulp escaping her.

Natasha paused her deviant ministrations, the silence so deafening that it was unnerving as she stared at you. A few seconds passed by and still, you failed to act, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on her, to catch her completely off guard.

“Turn over,” you growled, carnally, the pent up frustration within you now brimming over and calling you into action.

Despite knowing that she would ultimately cooperate with your command, you did not offer the chance, flipping her over forcefully as you pressed her firmly against the sofa beneath.

“Wha-”

Her words were obstructed by the weight of you against her back, her lungs deflating in an instant and stealing the words from her mouth. Your lips inched in, expertly brushing aside the messy red locks that veiled her ears with your fingers as you prepared to inform her of her fate.

“If you want to be a brat,” you spoke, softly, in contention with the roughness in which you handled her body, “then I’ll be sure to treat you like one.”

Natasha’s avid grunts of protest fell on deaf ears, though your warnings did nothing to curb her disobedience as she thrust her hips forward in the hopes of attaining contact with the sofa below. Noticing this, you instantly reached out to grapple with her hips until you had raised her ass into the air and successfully prevented any pleasure from finding her. The firmness of the denial saw Natasha’s head twisting to the side, fighting desperately to throw pleading looks in your direction to no avail.

“Please, Daddy,” she begged, breathlessly, pushing her ass further into the air and subsequently closer to your hands. “I’ll be a good girl for you, I promise.”

“Awww, my princess,” you cooed, condescendingly as you gently combed your fingers through her vibrant hair. “Now you want to behave?”

The redhead nodded with unparalleled enthusiasm, despite her movement being partially obstructed by the grip you had unleashed upon her. Either way, backing down did not even occur to you, not when Natasha had conducted such a valiant effort in rebelling. Your fingers halted their tender touches against her hair, instead opting for a vice grip, yanking harshly from the roots.

“Mhmm, Daddy,” Natasha groaned, her affinity towards pain slowly emerging after weeks of dormancy due to her time on the mission.

“I asked you a question, princess,” you reminded, delivering a particularly sharp tug upon her hair that dragged her head backwards, a whine eliciting from her parted lips.

“Uh, yes,” she panted, the raspiness of her voice only increasing as you pulled harder. “I want to be a good girl, Daddy!”

You hummed thoughtfully as if you were wrangling with whether to believe her or not, though the decision had already been solidified. Natasha would pay the price and it would cost more than she had initially prepared for.

“Hmmm,” you deliberated, your hands moving to grope the cheeks of her ass. “I don’t think that’s the truth now, is it, princess?”

An answer was unnecessary, the palm of your hand administering a powerful blow to her right cheek, only to be balanced out by a second one that fell upon the other. Luckily, there were no prior bruises there so you were free to explore and punish as you deemed fit. Natasha shifted below you, trying unsuccessfully to push herself up onto her elbows as a means of support.

You laughed aloud, amused by the spectacle she was providing you with and inwardly knowing how much she enjoyed to be humiliated, reminded of how needy and pathetic she was in the position she had willed herself into. Her growing arousal was only reiterated in the way that her pussy glistened from behind, your fingers briefly dragging through the slick that had accumulated there.

“Fuck,” she choked, instinctively arching her back as a means of capturing your digits and manipulating them to land inside of her to no avail. “I need you, Daddy.”

“Naughty girl,” you reprimanded, your disapproval only emphasised by another blow thrashed against her cheek, your handprint remaining even once you had retracted it. “So needy, aren’t you?”

And again, you continued your torturous ministrations, your fingers collecting the liquid Natasha had expelled only to mock how wet she had become from your exertions. This time, you sank one finger in to the hilt, a shiver passing over the entirety of her body as she grew accustomed to the meagre intrusion, still desperate for more.

For a moment, it seemed to pacify her until she began an overt attempt at rocking against it. You entertained it for all but a moment, basking in the sheer frustration that she was displaying, the contact nowhere near enough to amount to anything substantial. With no prior warning, you removed yourself from her, hoping that the tease that you had unleashed upon her was enough to tempt her into relinquishing.

“Turn over and face me, princess,” you instructed, a gentleness returning to your voice having been deficient for a short while.

Natasha twisted immediately and when her eyes met yours, you were met with apparent glassiness, as if the woman was close to tears. The bratty glint that sparked within her irises earlier seemed to have melted away as she settled her back flat against the sofa as requested.

“What are you going to do to me, Daddy?” Natasha questioned, meekly, her teeth tugging at her lips as her mind ran wild with possibilities, her thighs subsequently squeezing together.

“Oh, that depends, princess,” you smirked, sickeningly, only encouraged further by the unabashed curiosity that oozed from her. “If you’re going to be good, then I’ll give you want you want, hm?”

Natasha was frantic in her agreement, nodding wildly as she reached out her hands in search of the nape of your neck, pining for closeness, intimacy. 

“I’ll be good, Daddy,” she vowed, sincerely, her expression contrite as she recalled her earlier misbehaviour. “I’m so desperate for you, please.”

Satisfied with her words of assurance, you clambered to ghost her frame once more, only this time you settled square on top of her, your thumb brushing the length of her cheek. A genuine smile saw her teeth emerging from behind her full lips. Your hand cinched around her throat and squeezed moderately, observing as her eyes rolled backwards in response, followed by an almost maniacal smirk.

“Is this what you want, princess?” you asked, though the answer was starkly obvious from the expression which had suddenly possessed her features. “You want Daddy to fuck you like this?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Natasha gushed, her mouth ajar as she basked in the pressure your hand was providing around her neck. “I want it so badly.”

In haste, you rid yourself of your jeans and threw them carelessly beside the sofa, pledging to collect them later. The strap on that you had priorly concealed beneath your clothing now springing free of its shrouding, your hand guiding it to align with Natasha’s wanton pussy. The redhead gasped audibly as you entered her, the invasion taking her by slight surprise as she moaned on continuum.

Your hand found permanent residency encircled around her neck, occasionally delivering a little squeeze to remind her of the power in which you held over her. Her jaw slackened, shaky breaths falling effortlessly from her as her eyes entered a trance-like state, unblinking and ascending. You slammed into her with recklessness, slowing only to press the pad of your thumb to her clit and observing as she thrashed her head from side to side in response.

“Oh, Daddy,” Natasha squealed, your name ringing out like a mantra and the only thing that she had the strength to scream out, her mind occupied solely by you.

“Cum for me, princess,” you instructed, sensing her reaching the threshold as you leaned in to suckle a purple bruise into her skin. “Do it for me.”

You showered her in praise as she came undone, her eyebrows sewn tightly together as she shrieked mindlessly. It was a beautiful sight to see and one you knew you would never grow tired of. Delicately, you brushed away the loose strands of hair from her face, sizzling heat radiating from her cheeks as you felt them. Silence persisted for a few moments, a sheepish grin forming upon Natasha’s face as she stared up at you.

“That was…” she paused, gathering her thoughts. “Quite the welcome.”

Chuckling, you slid to reposition behind her, your arms enclosing around her as you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

“That’s what happens when you misbehave,” you informed, your lips pressed to her bare shoulder as you basked in her warmth.

“If I’d have known sooner I-”

Sensing a bold remark was about to make its debut, a hand immediately found its way between her legs, watching as she recoiled from the overstimulation that incurred as a result.

“Pull a stunt like that again,” you warned, the sentence concluding with a soft slap against her pussy. “And I’ll make damn sure that the next mission goes ahead without you.”

She turned suddenly in your arms, her interest piqued and a familiar excitement filling her orbs once more.

“And how would you do that?”

“Oh, sweet girl,” you cooed, your hot breath against her ear. “You can’t fight anyone if you can’t walk.”

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[galedekarios]

plagiarism in the bg3 fandom

disclaimer: this post should not be taken as a springboard to harrass anyone involved.

-

as i've stated previously, i didn't want to make this post because i have a lot going on in real life, but i have been watching this being done to others and myself for months now and i can't not speak about my experience anymore.

laiostoudenn (prev urls: lathanderr/spellbooking/wizardblood) is a plagiarist and he has a history of stealing from other creators like @minthara, @mercymaker, @onewingedangels and others.

in this post, i, finally and after much and long deliberation, want to add my voice to theirs.

i'll try to give a chronological overview of what happened as i have come to experience it, through others and myself, and as condensed as possible and to make it easier for myself to tell:

the story

i became aware of this new blog after he @ me and he messaged me. he's been following me. i was slow to engage because i have a lot of things going on in my real life that cost me a lot of energy during the day. i have also grown cautious of too quickly becoming close to strangers online. i became aware, however, that he had been doing this with multiple bigger creators in this space, like my friend @hawke, who is also a creator in the bg3 space, and who has experienced the same behaviour. they asked me if i knew him and i replied that i did not.

that was it for me at that point and i didn't engage much beyond that because i didn't know him and i thought nothing of it - until later.

during that time, whenever i saw his creations pop up increasingly, either in the tags or on my dash, i noticed more and more that they looked familiar to the works of others, from @minthara, to @mercymaker, to @onewingedangels and other creators, including myself.

it was then confirmed that i wasn't simply imagining things when, months ago, two creators were brave enough to speak up about the fact that he has been plagiarising gifsets and edits from them:

@minthara and @mercymaker:

@onewingedangels original set posted on 31st december 2023:

his set posted on 29th january 2024 (now deleted):

this was done without consent, and after he had already copied prior sets from @onewingedangels.

i would greatly recommend reading the posts shared above, and looking at the examples provided in it, so that you get a clear picture of what's happening here. it's not one isolated incident.

if you take a look at the notes in the post, you can also see other creators speaking about their experiences.

@minthara has recently also uploaded a google docs with the screenshots of the sets stolen from them because they either have been deleted, or lead to nothing due to now multiple url changes.

i was made aware today that he, following the first posts detailing @minthara and @mercymaker's experiences, apologised at first and admitted to what he's been doing on 31st march 2024:

but sadly, this wasn't to last, and the opportunity to learn and grow wasn't taken.

instead what happened was now painted as "bullying" from other creators, as "clique" behaviour and as "gatekeeping", despite many of us operating independently from each other. i, myself, have only started speaking to one other creator involved now that i have noticed the stealing and copying still ongoing.

i have in my time on this website never gatekept anything. i have shared metas, gifsets, creations, mods, art, tutorials, and many other things freely.

but back to the matter at hand: after he has been trying to ingratiate himself to me for some time now, following me, unfollowing me, and refollowing me again until i blocked him for my own mental health, i tried to remain civil before this point, engaging rarely if at all, hoping everything would go away on its own - which was a mistake in hindsight, i realise - i noticed that once again he's been lifting entire concepts and frame-by-frame gifs and sets from me.

things that he now claims - likely after he has been made aware of my prior personal posts and @minthara and @mercymaker's post circulating again by being reblogged by other people who have been affected) - were simply "remade" or "expanded" upon, that he may have been "subconsciously" influenced, while simultaneously claiming that he didn't know these sets existed in the first place, that he came up with the ideas independently, and that it's simply inevitable to use the same scenes because it's a limited game.

this doesn't hold up under scrutiny, however.

i want to make clear that i very much understand and that i am acutely aware that i do not own scenes and i do not own mods or outfits. however, what i do like to pride myself on is coming up with concepts and scene choices and captions accompanying these concepts that are unique, inspired by my metas, headcanons pertaining to gale and my own ocs altonaufein and karl, all of which i have seen copied by him several times now.

this is not as simple as simply gifing the same lines of dialogue from a scene as he and others supporting him are now postulating and i want to make that very, very clear.

another reason why this statement doesn't hold up under any scrutiny and, what ultimately confirmed my suspicion that he has been copying me, was when he - after the first post exposing his behaviour by @minthara and @mercymaker was made - reached out to me, asking if it it's ok to copy a gifset i made (note: again, this happened after he was called out for plagiarising the first time):

i didn't respond quickly enough, so he went ahead and posted it without waiting for my response (the response i gave him is pictured above and for transparancy, i responded about a day later bc of work and irl obligations).

below you can see the stolen post and what i managed to save from it:

the set was a 1:1 copy. he wanted a version for his oc so bad that he went ahead and stole my concept anyhow, without even waiting for the permission he asked for.

he went to take it down after my reply, made cautious most likely by his still fresh callout done in march 2024 by @minthara and @mercymaker, and i thought the issue was resolved and it wouldn't happen again, that he wouldn't take again without asking, despite having been told not only by myself, but by other creators as well, no. we are not comfortable.

but no. he "remade" the set, switching out gifs while complaining about how he "had to make it original":

my set in question was made on 1st february 2024, he reached out to me on 22nd april 2024 to "remake" the set. he is well aware of the existence of these ideas and concepts and sets he wants to copy, underlined by the need to ask for permission when it's simply too obvious to otherwise deny.

it's no coincidence.

like others have had the experience, i too noticed that he often would not engage with content he planned on stealing or did go through with stealing. he would sometimes present it as his own "remake" of a set he did, of another he was "inspired" or wanted to "expand upon", sometimes crediting, sometimes crediting someone largely unrelated, sometimes and, more often, not crediting.

as i mentioned above, this was not the first and not the only set/concept, which he copied from me - whether that was before asking or after asking, or not asking at all, if it was ok to copy.

i use this example mainly to show a clear pattern of behaviour that exists across the board: he takes concepts from other creators and inserts his own oc and/or favourite character into it because he wants a version of it so very badly. it does not matter if said creator might be hurt, if they told him no, or if they exposed his behaviour before. it doesn't matter how old the set is or how recent.

it is still going on today, the only difference is that he has stopped asking at all once again.

my story completely echoes that of @minthara and @mercymaker's.

concrete examples

i will now go into more detail about the concept sets he's been copying, include the caption or quote attached to it. i'm sorry that these will not be in chronological fashion. i will add at a later point, just like @minthara has done, a google document to better do side by side comparisons, highlight the similarities visually even more, and preserve some of the sets, which have now been deleted by him as recently as today:

the theme of hands in gale's romance

-> mine posted on 23rd september 2023

versus

-> his 1 posted on 24th february 2024

-> his 2 posted on 17th june 2024

i want to preface this by saying that the theme of hands was and still is incredibly important to story of my oc altonaufein and has concept of romance with gale. again, while i do not own these scenes, i wished to highlight a theme that i identified as poignant and profound within the relationship context. it's also why i added the poetry and quotes accompanying the set.

notice how even the caption format matches. the only thing lacking are my quotes / poems.

the format matches almost entirely: gifs from the same scenes (pulling gale out of the portal, the bench scene in an illusionary waterdeep, the astral sea scene, the boat scene, and more of the boat scene). the only thing that was added in this gifset are scenes that weren't available to me back then, namely the updated proposal scene, the kisses patches, and the epilogue as they came out well after i made my original gifset.

the second re-make even contains a gif that's not only the same minute detail of a larger scene - one that anyone who played gale's romance knows contains a multitude of other parts that could have been used - but also the same frames:

mine vs his:

i suppose adding that one to the original post with the same format i had chosen for mine would have made it too obvious, but that is only speculation.

gale + missing waterdeep/home

-> mine posted on 30th september 2023

versus

-> his (deleted on 18th july 2024) so i will have to include screenshots so you may compare:

same caption format, overlapping scenes chosen, only new additions are of content that wasn't available to me back when i first made my original set (the epilogue, kiss patches and proposal scene).

an attempt at "credit" even though he is only referencing my tags on an entirely separate set of a different creator, not the concept i came up with in my original set months prior.

and even though i have told him no before, just like others have told him no before.

i think it speaks volumes that this set is now, like some others, have been suddenly and coincidentally deleted.

gale of waterdeep vs gale dekarios

-> mine posted on 20th november 2023

versus

-> his posted on 13th may 2024

the concept is entirely the same, the scenes are largely overlapping, again, the caption format is almost entirely identical, with the sole difference of me including the full quote and devnotes as i'm wont to do.

gale + i love you

-> mine posted 16th september 2023

versus

-> his 2 (a "remake" of an "older" set of "his") posted on 13th may 2024

again, the concept is entirely the same, it's same caption format, the scenes largely overlap, some of the gifs added that were not available to me when i made my set (which, again, would include the epilogue, kisses patches, and the updated proposal scene).

mermay gale

-> mine posted on 13th may 2024

versus

-> his posted on 21st may 2024

it's the same concept again, the caption format is similar, it's the same setting (camp at baldur's gate), the same armour, the same armour tint, the same 3/4 pose except mirrored, and, this time, his tags were inspired too:

my tag: #i have the worst art block still and virtually no time but i still wanted to do smth for mermay so have this

his tag: #i can't do art so heres my mermay contribution i guess

copied oc post

-> mine posted on (likely) 30th september 2021

versus

-> his originally posted on may 7th 2024, which has also now been deleted on 18th july 2024:

the only thing different was the font. sadly, i deleted my oc post since i have redesigned some of them and wanted to make an updated version of it in the future.

thankfully i found the link on my friends blog, @ayrennaranaaldmeri.

as you can see, all of these happened after the first cases of plagiarism and after i personally told him that i'm not comfortable with him "remaking" my concept sets as his.

conclusion

there are many other sets that i suspect have been copied or plagiarised, i want to remain objective, however, and include the ones i feel are the most damning examples, supported by the fact that he has been deleting some of them today while again, trying to set up his narrative to his audience.

again, i want to highlight the pattern is here with him. my post is not the first, my suspicious are the first.

he knows what he is doing wrong, highlighted by the fact of trying to ask for permission, by deleting sets in question, by, at first, apologising, whilst now talking about "gatekeeping", "bullying", "inevitable repeats of scenes", "taking inspiration", "scrolling by", being "subconsciously" influenced, etc.

as a conclusion, i can say nothing more on this topic other than that i'm very sad. it doesn't give me joy. it stressed me immensely then and it still does now. i wish he'd have taken the already admitted wrong-doing to heart and grown from it, instead of attempting to change the narrative and doubling down on his past behaviour, not examining what he has done and is doing several times over by now.

i have blocked him now, as have done many others, and will not engage further with him. we have been through this before and at this point, i don't think he will change.

what i do very much hope, however, is that this is the last i hear of this happening.

edit:

updated the links to lead to his "archive" so you can access the stolen sets that he still hasn't deleted and seems to have no intentions of doing so.

[fanficlolsblog]

THE FAN

back to my main masterlist

pairing: fem!reader x taylor swift

summary: y/n, a dedicated swiftie, runs a popular social media account showcasing her edits and paintings of taylor swift. after being noticed by taylor nation, she’s invited to the eras tour. throughout the concert, y/n repeatedly catches taylor’s eye, leaving her flustered. backstage, taylor compliments y/n’s art and admits she couldn’t stop looking at her during the show. as y/n leaves, taylor runs after her to ask for her phone number, making the night even more surreal.

warnings: fluff, romantic tension, other than that none.

a/n: I also posted this story on wattpad at loversxoxoxo if you would like to check it out for more of my writing! thanks for reading my loves :))

w/c: 1.2k+

Being a Swiftie was more than just a phase for me. I’d always admired Taylor Swift’s storytelling and artistry, and I found ways to channel that admiration through my own creativity. I started editing photos, creating aesthetic video clips, and eventually started painting portraits of her—my small way of contributing to the fandom. I poured my heart into every post, and the account took off, gathering thousands of followers who resonated with my love for Taylor.

One day, something happened that made my entire world flip upside down. I posted one of my newest paintings—a portrait of Taylor in her “Folklore” era, surrounded by soft, muted colors and imagery—and Taylor Nation liked it. I screamed when I saw the notification, but what happened next nearly made me faint.

I got a DM from Taylor Nation. A DM. They told me they’d been following my account and loved the edits and paintings I’d been doing, and they invited me to the upcoming Eras Tour show. I couldn’t breathe. Was this real life? Me, going to see Taylor Swift perform live, invited by Taylor Nation?

The day of the concert arrived, and I could hardly contain myself. When I arrived at the stadium, I was blown away by how close I was to the stage—practically in the front row. The energy was electric, and I felt like I was floating the entire time. I took a moment to take it all in, trying to convince myself that this was actually happening.

Then the lights dimmed, and Taylor appeared, beginning her set with “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince.” The crowd screamed, and I was caught up in the magic of it all. But then something strange happened during “My Tears Ricochet.” Taylor was performing her emotional choreography, and when she lay on the ground, her head snapped up—and she locked eyes with me.

My heart stuttered. She couldn’t be looking at me, right? There were thousands of people here. But the moment was unmistakable. She held my gaze for just a beat too long, and I felt my face heat up. I told myself it was a coincidence, but a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling.

Throughout the night, it happened again and again. During “Vigilante Shit,” when she sang with that intense, sultry energy, I caught her glancing in my direction—multiple times. Every time our eyes met, my heart raced a little faster. She couldn’t be singling me out, could she?

As the concert went on, I tried to focus on the music, but I kept catching Taylor’s eyes on me, her gaze lingering in a way that made my stomach do flips. I wasn’t imagining it. Every time she looked at me, a small smile played on her lips, and it felt like there was something more behind those glances.

After the show, when I was still floating on the high of the night, one of the Taylor Nation reps came over to me. “Taylor wants to meet you,” they said casually, as if they hadn’t just dropped a bomb on my world.

I was led backstage, my nerves a chaotic mess, trying to wrap my head around what was happening. I was about to meet Taylor Swift in person. Before I could fully process the moment, she walked into the room, looking radiant even after the intense concert.

“Hey!” she said, her voice warm and familiar. “You’re Y/N, right?”

I stammered out a yes, trying to keep my cool. Taylor smiled and took a step closer. “I’ve seen your posts. Your paintings are incredible. I’m obsessed with them. And your edits? Seriously, you have such an eye for this stuff.”

I blinked, trying to comprehend the fact that Taylor Swift had seen my work—liked my work.

Then, as if to throw me off completely, she added, “You know, I recognized you from the stage tonight.” My heart skipped a beat. “It was hard to keep my eyes off you,” she said, her voice dropping just a little, her eyes twinkling. I felt my face heat up, trying to process what was happening.

I laughed nervously, unsure if she was joking. “Wait, really? I thought I was just imagining things.”

Taylor smiled, a little more playfully now. “Oh, you definitely weren’t imagining it. I noticed you during ‘My Tears Ricochet’—you were right there, looking so shocked. It was cute.” She was teasing me now, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or melt.

I felt a blush creeping up my cheeks as she kept her gaze locked on mine, and I could swear there was a little bit of a flirtatious glint in her eyes. “I just… I mean, I didn’t expect you to even see me, let alone… notice me.”

“How could I not?” she said softly, her eyes scanning my face for just a second too long. “You stood out.”

We talked for a few more minutes, and I could feel the tension between us—the way her words were laced with something more than just casual conversation. She kept complimenting my work, my creativity, even the way I’d blushed earlier during the concert.

As I left that night, my mind was spinning. Had I just spent the evening catching Taylor Swift’s attention—both on stage and off? It felt like a dream, but the way she looked at me, the way she had spoken to me… it was something more than I could have ever expected.

As I walked out of the venue, my mind still spinning from everything that had happened, I tried to catch my breath. Meeting Taylor, hearing her say that she had noticed me on stage, that she couldn’t keep her eyes off me—it was all too much. I couldn’t stop replaying every glance, every word she’d said, wondering if I had misread the whole situation. Maybe she was just being nice… right?

I was almost at the exit when I heard footsteps behind me, quicker than the steady flow of fans leaving the show. I glanced over my shoulder, and my heart stopped when I saw Taylor—Taylor Swift—hurrying toward me, a look of determination on her face.

“Hey, wait!” she called out, slightly out of breath as she caught up with me. I turned fully to face her, trying to process what was happening.

“Taylor?” I asked, my voice shaky with disbelief.

She smiled, a little sheepish, as if she hadn’t just sprinted across a stadium to catch up with me. “I, uh, forgot to ask for your number,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “If you’re okay with that?”

For a second, I just stood there, frozen in place. Taylor Swift wanted my phone number. I blinked, trying to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, but she stood there, waiting patiently, her eyes never leaving mine.

“Oh! Yeah, of course,” I stammered, fumbling to unlock my phone and hand it to her. My heart was racing again, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Taylor took my phone, her fingers brushing against mine as she quickly entered her number and handed it back to me. “Text me sometime,” she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “I’d love to see more of your work… and maybe, you know, hang out?”

My brain short-circuited. I nodded, too overwhelmed to form a proper response, but the grin on Taylor’s face told me she understood.

With one last playful glance, she gave me a small wave and turned back toward the venue, leaving me standing there with my phone clutched in my hand, my heart racing faster than ever. As she disappeared into the crowd, I looked down at my screen. Taylor Swift was in my contacts, and I could barely believe it.

What had started as a dream night just became the most surreal experience of my life.

[queers-gambit]

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

prompt: The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4k+

note: author wants to remind everyone that there are 1,000 different ways to host a funeral; to celebrate a life.

warnings: Mafia AU, cursing, mention of deceased family member, depictions of violence, greed, spoiled brat behavior (not by reader or Buck, you'll see), entitlement, does author ever edit? where is this fic going? author lost sight of the plot but fuck it!

"The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.; read on May 16th, after being last revised on January 3rd, - being of assured sound body, mind, and soul - is to divide assets and bequeath inheritance," the lawyer with thinning hair announced to the room, his baritone voice sending vibrations to the glasses of water set before him.

You tightened your hand in Bucky's flesh one, sharing a small glance together as his mother commandeered all attention by sniffling loudly from the middle of the room. It was a lively sort of office; a high rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a light, pale yellow that glowed in sunlight, a long mahogany conference table, plush, leather rolling chairs, and an array of flavored waters to choose from. Both sparkling and flat.

It felt wrong to be there, totally unreal.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was read from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses by a portly man in a tacky, summer khaki suit. Mr. Happy had been the Barnes' lawyer for years now, someone The Boss, James Sr., trusted without a doubt. He was the only man trusted to see this division to the end and without conflict, fearing it'd upset Mr. Barnes' soul should his family begin feuding over material items.

"First, to my beloved wife, Mary Beth, who I know will succeed me in death. I to her leave our beach house, the penthouse on Fifth, every car in mine and her name is to be transferred solely into her name, the building, apartment leases in Manhattan so she might continue being landlord and earn a monthly, sizable income. In addition," Happy glanced at Mary Beth, "I bequeath a lump sum of 25% of my savings."

Everyone seemed to think this was acceptable, nodding in agreement as Mary Beth sobbed loudly into a crumpled, saturated tissue. However, Happy paused as he scanned over the document nervously. His throat cleared, informing that John was to get his own share - yet there was no mention of the organization's leadership and the entire room filled with tension. Finally, Happy sighed through his reading of Bucky's inheritance as you took a sip of coffee; revealing he had been chosen as Mr. James Barnes, Sr.'s successor.

Coffee sprayed out of your nose to splatter on the table, making you gag and cough instantly; Bucky patting your back in support as he turned rigid with confusing tension. Mary Beth Barnes gasped dramatically, insisting that couldn't be right.

"What!?" John raged, shooting out of his leather chair so fast, it toppled over. "That's impossible! That should not be possible!"

"I assure you, Mr. Barnes, it's - "

"Bullshit!" John snapped, snatching a copy of The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr..

Happy sighed, "Your father did not leave you the business, John, he left it to Bucky, instead."

"How the fuck - !?" Nobody moved as John read for himself what the legal documents said. He grit his teeth and tossed the padded file to the lawyer, glaring at his family. "So," he seethed, "Father's decided to name Bucky over me."

"What does all this mean!?" Mary Beth asked tearfully.

He smirked, "You two couldn't get pregnant. You tried, tried, tried, but just couldn't, so, you adopted me. But just 3 months after I came home, you were giving birth to Bucky - and even better, you gave him Father's name! My whole life, you've all tried to erase me because the adoption was final and there was nowhere to dump me, but then Father started teaching me about the business. He knew I was the eldest - and succession respects birth order!"

"I didn't ask for this," Bucky snapped, his hand flat on your back as you had stopped choking finally but he didn't want to lift his hand from your inviting warmth.

"No? That why you're the one benefitting from everything?" John sneered.

"Benefitting? From our father dying? I understand you feel scorned, but Father made his decision," Bucky reminded. "And I'm sorry he made you feel as if you were guaranteed this job, but this is how it works. Someone's appointed."

"If you were decent, you'd refuse so I could step in and take my place. You know I'm the better fit!"

Happy shook his head, "That's not how this works, kid."

"Excuse me?" John seethed, turning to the lawyer.

"Bucky can't just refuse and you accept," Happy explained. "If the chosen inheritor refuses, then there's a trial to elect a new Boss. You'd have to plead your case to everyone."

John huffed and turned to Bucky, demanding, "Well?"

"I'm not refusing what Father wanted," Bucky decided, making you freeze. "And I'm not useless, John, I know how to do this job."

He scoffed, "Whatever."

"Hang on a second," you whispered, grabbing Bucky's wrist to lean into his side, barely muttering, "baby, are you sure?" He nodded at you, not quite picking up on the question you asked between the lines.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., had been officially read, and after naming Bucky successor, tore apart a fragile family that was barely knit together with frayed string. He knew his decision would cause disruption, yet Senior Barnes made a decision best based on the needs of the organization - not his sons.

Now that John had stormed off, Happy read the rest of the document to ensure there were as little questions as possible; everyone aware of the temper John harnessed - thinking this was his final trigger that made him snap. After hearing the division of assets, you all parted ways with Happy, who promised he'd be in contact with Bucky soon before telling Mary Beth the money would hit her account in a day.

25% of Senior Barnes' savings to Mary Beth. 25% to John. 50% left for Bucky to operate an ever-profiting business.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. had torn apart a mother and (adopted) son; two brothers; and while you didn't want to add to the stress Bucky must've felt, you couldn't hold back. When alone in the car, you lashed out at Bucky - demanding to know how he could make such an important decision without at least consulting you.

"We're together, Bucky, and this is a partnership! One person doesn't get to do everything, we make big-time, life-changing decisions together since it's not just your life you're shaking up!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Bucky snapped back.

"It's everything to do with me!" You argued. "You're not the only one in this relationship, so you don't get to make unilateral decisions!"

"It's not your job, it's not your family - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You snarled. "Few weeks ago, it was, 'oh, baby, I'm gonna marry you one day. I can't live without you,' and now it's not my family...? What? Not my business? Not my concern?"

"It's up to me to deal with."

"Why couldn't you of just asked for a minute to think?" You asked in a defeated tone. "You could've used a minute or two to talk to me about it before jumping the gun."

"What would you've said?"

"That we could try it out and then if you didn't like it, let it go to trial..."

He nodded, "Not half a bad idea."

"But you didn't think to include me!"

"It's not your life!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, it's our life. Okay? Like it or not, this is our life we're talking about. Fucking clue me in next time, you irrational fuck."

Bucky took a long breath, "All right, fine, fair enough. I should've included you. I'll do better in the future."

You huffed, crossing your arms, "I doubt it."

Due to the nature of your stress, you didn't push Bucky farther that night. He seemed distracted, and even when you got back to your penthouse apartment, he was sullen and quiet. You spent two hours in bed, alone, tossing and turning, before finally getting up to look for your lover. He was found on the balcony, dried tear tracks left on his cheeks; mutely opening his arm to welcome you onto his lap. Bucky needed you now more than ever, his tears starting again as the funeral now loomed over you all.

Two days later, The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. was contested on May 18th by... John Walker? Who the fuck...?

"Hi, Happy," you greeted the lawyer at your hotel door, opening it to let him enter.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled. "Where's Mr. Barnes?"

"In here," you lead him to the sitting room, trying to ignore how everyone now called Bucky "Boss" or "Mr. Barnes". When you arrived, the three of you sat to listen to the lawyer speak about whatever he had called an emergency meeting about.

"Who the hell is John Walker?" You wondered softly. "Some rip-off John Wick?

"John, it's John," Happy snickered. "It's John - he's legally changed his adopted name to his birth name. From Barnes to Walker."

"When?"

"Yesterday. Today, he contested the will."

"Fuck's sake," you sighed.

"This inheritance is iron-clad," Happy assured, "but it's enough disruption to shake the men in the organization. Apparently, John's procured a plethora of followers - all ready to march behind him."

"He has fucking supporters?" Bucky mumbled in angry disbelief.

"Enough to make a small dent in our numbers..."

"Can I ask?" You interrupted. "What's John's issue? Why's he so angry?"

Happy glanced at Bucky and saw there was no answer on his lips, so, he told you, "Years ago, Mrs. Barnes struggled to carry children to-term. Eventually, they were told it wouldn't happen, so, they decided to adopt. It took about a year for them to adopt John, but Mary Beth was surprisingly pregnant - gave birth three months after they adopted John, who was about two at the time and understood he had to share the attention of his new parents. That's where the competition started..."

"So, John's mad...?"

"He's the eldest," Happy shrugged. "But Senior Barnes named his firstborn son..."

"What a slap in the face," you frowned, feeling sad for John. "To learn after his father died that... What? He didn't think John was really his son? Was really family?"

Happy nodded, "He was clear when he stated his firstborn son... They were in a feud when Senior Barnes made this revision."

"So, he was just angry - "

"More than that," Happy frowned. "Have you spoken Mr. Stark yet?"

"Tony? Not yet," Bucky answered.

"He's your father's investment banker, works with your father's accountant. John had an unhealthy habit of asking for more and more money to be bailed out. When your father tried to cut him off, he started stealing the money, leading their blow-out."

You blinked in shock.

Bucky just hummed and nodded, deep in thought. "Perhaps it's time to change the banker," he muttered.

"Tony's good," Happy assured, "but John knows how to manipulate people. Your father never wanted to see it, but when John burned through money, he got frustrated."

"Okay," you waved, "new motion. No more business talk until we lay Mr. Barnes to rest, okay? Just let us bury the man, then y'all can plot and plan and do whatever."

"Mr. Barnes - this, Mr. Barnes," he pointed at Bucky, " - has informed me you'll be present going forward...?"

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, of course, but I'm still asking for a pause," you eased, trying to play down how off-guard you felt. "Let's get through the funeral and we can figure out what to do moving forward."

Bucky agreed and showed Happy out; returning to you not a minute later with his hands on his hips. You cocked your head in question and he answered, "He got rid of the Barnes name..."

"He did."

"He's contesting the will."

"He is."

"He's got supporters in the organization."

"He does."

Bucky took a long breath, telling you, "I'm gonna need your help getting through this, doll."

"That's what I'm here for," you promised.

It was strange, seeing your lover assimilate into such an intense role. You were grateful he had an ON / OFF switch with you, being the kind, sweet, soft-hearted, tender man you fell in love with in private, but the cold, calculating maniac when acting in his newly appointed job. It was intriguing to watch; always content to play dutiful wife when he requested your presence.

You had gone to law school, and because of that, you knew how to take lightning fast notes, so, he liked you being present at his meetings. It was only three days since reading The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., and in the time, Bucky truly took control. He weeded out most of those who supported John over him, "removing" them from their position in the org., trying to set a precedence for the other men who meant to follow him. He wore suits everyday now, had two different phones, and assigned personal security to you and him.

However, come the 21st, everything came to something of a grinding halt at the funeral. It was a simple set-up: the morning started with a mass, then they'd congregate for a viewing, lastly, transport the body to the grave site. You wore black, like everyone else, and kept a hand on Bucky the entire time - knowing his anxiety made him skittish and prone to his fight or flight reaction. He was quiet, stoic, busying himself by keeping a hand on your form; be it your waist, hip, hand, around your shoulders. To save him from any awkward encounters, you accepted people's grievances with kindness.

The mass was pleasant enough. Short, simple, to the point; offering the death rite prayers Mr. Barnes had designated in his final documents. After that, Bucky kept busy by helping load the casket into the hearse to transport him to the funeral home while you intercepted any conversation. Once at the funeral home, you helped bring in all the floral arrangements as Bucky comforted his mother, no sign of trouble yet.

However, right in the middle of the some 600-person strong memorial, there came a small commotion. You flinched when you saw your security guards hit the floor, John emerging from the stunned crowd with a few men flanking his sides. "Well, ain't this real heart-warmin'," he smirked, eyeing the attending patrons. "Funny seein' you here, Tony, 'cause you always hated Old Man Barnes. You, too, Clint," he pointed out different attendants, "'cause I remember you sayin' you wished you hit The Boss with your car that one Christmas party. Mhm, and you, Natasha, so good to see you here after all the stress you and your little gang caused Father."

"John," Bucky grit, but your hands kept him anchored in place.

"Mhm," John eyed you both, "always restrained by your bitch, huh?"

"What're you doing here?" You deflected. "Why make a scene?"

"Ain't no other way to get y'alls attention," he spread his arms in gusto. "I see you haven't responded to my contention."

"Why would I?" Bucky shot back, taking a more relaxed stance as his arm slung around your shoulders. "It's just the woes of a spoiled brat not getting what he assumes are his dues. Didn't you steal enough from Father when he was alive? What's this? You wanna try again to fuck him up in death by stealing the position he left me?"

John's tongue licked over his teeth, "Strong words."

"You're one to talk. Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry you were short handed, but it's not something we can change. You made a mistake, I get that, but it was Father's money you fucked with, that you stole, and you proved untrustworthy. Why the fuck do you think he'd leave the business to you? Listen, I'd love for you to come into the org officially, but not if you're contesting Father's wishes."

"I'm owed more than I was given," John snapped. "Years I endured his wrath and ruin, years I posed as his perfect and diligent son. To find out now, after his death, that I am not even viewed as family...? I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for your mother to have fertility difficulties, I didn't ask to be adopted, and yet it all happened, but he still, until the end, kept me at arms length. I'm owed more than I was given since he stated in legal documents that I am not his son!"

"This is not the time or place," Bucky warned. "Don't fucking do this."

"No? When, then? Why do it later? When I can get through your security now? You know, you're a tough guy to get close to what with all the security you've hired recently," John smirked, opening his arms in bravado, "and yet, here I am."

"When we are not at our father's funeral, we will talk."

"No," John smirked, shaking his head, "we do this now. Here, and now, at your father's funeral."

You yelped when Bucky shoved you down, ducking swiftly himself to avoid John's swinging fist; launching his own attack, and the entire funeral home erupting in chaos. You gasped when hands grabbed your waist and hauled up - yelping in shock when you recognized Steve's tattoos as he shoved through the crowd.

"What the fuck!?" You demanded when set down on the side of the room.

"Boss' orders," he explained, keeping an eye out on the kerfuffle. "Shit - stay fuckin' here!" He barked, turning for the crowd and disappearing. You felt your panic brewing to a new height as you couldn't see Bucky... In fact, you couldn't see any of the regular men you were used to.

A gun fired, you ducked down.

People screamed, a stampede erupting to empty the funeral home as fast as possible as another shot sounded. You were about to follow the mass of people when Sam became visible, obviously struggling to get to you through the throngs of rushing people.

"C'mere, honey," Sam panted, grabbing hold of you and keeping you close.

"What's going on!?" You begged, a third shot echoing, making the last of the people scream in terror and run faster - pushing people out of their way.

"John's come to play," Sam grit, people bumping into him as he did his best to stand as a pillar to keep you safe. "C'mon," he heaved, leading you towards a side door, opening it to reveal Bucky's mother, Mary Beth, and a few other women - gently pushing you inside and shutting the locked door.

"Fucker," you grumbled, trying to open the locked handle. You sighed, hands on your hips, listening to the commotion outside the door and turning to glare at Mary Beth. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She asked stiffly.

"That your husband resented John because he was adopted?"

She blinked and lowered her head in thought, releasing a deep, long sigh. "I didn't think it was this bad, I honestly thought things were getting better."

"James wrote John out of the will and now Bucky's the one paying for it," you snapped. "How did you not see this coming?"

"John's always been a good boy - "

"You mean a Mama's Boy. But surely you have to realize, a boy needs both his parents. Especially if he can feel the one parent fostering resentment."

The door rattled and you turned for it, the swinging wood revealing your boyfriend's deranged person. He surveyed the room, a heavy glare on his face, blood and bruising visible through his snarl, and when he locked onto your form, he surged forward, breathing, "Sweetheart."

His hands instantly slid over your cheeks, looking frantic as he took in your appearance - searching for any sign of injury. "I'm okay," you promised him, holding his wrists, "but you're not. Fuck's sake, Buck, you're bleeding."

He scoffed, "John wore rings."

"Pussy boy."

"C'mere," he stooped to scoop you in his arms, "gettin' you home."

"Bucky," you whined lightly.

He readjusted you so you were koala hugging his torso, huddling your head into his neck and insisting, "Don't look. Don't look, baby, don't fucking look."

But you did.

Tears filled your eyes when you identified two dead bodies on the bloody floor, and trailing behind you both, Bucky's footprints - in blood. You tightened your hold on him and whimpered.

The fire crackled and coughed ash into the air, a comfortable warmth emitting into the otherwise chilly room. Ice cubes sloshed in crystal, the smell of book leather and stale cologne perfumed the air, and four minds all raced with different thoughts.

Bucky, still bruised and sporting cuts on his face, clenched his jaw as he weighed options in his head. Across from him, on a matching leather loveseat, Sam sat beside Steve, handing the blonde a refilled glass of his desired alcohol. You were pressed to your lover's side, everyone replaying the events of this evening.

Sam and Steve filled you in on what went down, Bucky not making a single sound as his men spoke. The details made you feel lightheaded but you wanted to know, and now, more than before, you understood your new reality. Sam told you the names of the two men killed, names you didn't recognize, before wrapping the story up by explaining there were getaway cars waiting outside for John and his men. You spared a glance at Bucky, then asked the two men across from you, "So, what now?"

Silence.

"Now..." Bucky grit his teeth, speaking lowly and evenly, "I do the job I was given. No successful leader ever wanted their position of influence and power, being a reason I know John's the wrong fit for this job. If I step down, he'll slither in..." He nodded, "Time to be the boss, finally."

Your heart cemented and throat constricted, only able to listen to Sam and Steve agree with Buck, then instantly start planning their next move - not wanting to wait til morning.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was meant to be something clean, peaceful, and fair, and yet, it was anything but. A family without their patriarch, two confused sons sans a father, millions of dollars worth of inheritance left to be fought over, a wife off the deep end and a mother unavailable to the world; a feud brewing and sides being chose.

It wasn't supposed to come to this, James Barnes, Sr., wasn't a vindictive man. He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction, he just wanted to do something "right" without contest. He was incredibly wrong, though he'd never know it; leaving a mess in his wake that Bucky was responsible to clean.

You listened to the men devise the beginnings of a plan before whispering to Bucky you were going to sleep. After bidding Sam and Steve a goodnight, you left Senior Barnes' home study - you and Bucky moving in basically after The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.. It was a gorgeous home, lost in time; inviting guests into her many halls; to discover all her secrets.

You found the bedroom you and Bucky had claimed, trying not to overwhelm yourself with reality. Truth was, you loved Bucky more than life but you started dating years ago - when he was a different man. When his father's wishes were different. Where different circumstances seemed plausible to your future together. However, this wasn't what you signed up for; and never did you (or Bucky) anticipate for him to be named heir.

You went to bed that night frazzled, rattled, alone, cold, and with severe heart palpitations; wishing to God your man would back down, but knew it was foolish to waste hope on the inevitable.

So, you fell asleep wondering if life with this "new" Bucky was worth living... Did you truly want to be with a man with such a dangerous job? A job that caused a crowd-fight at a funeral before creating need for more funerals? A job that would steal his time, money, effort, attention... A job that would affect you both in ways you couldn't begin to fathom?

Was loving Bucky worth this kind of conflict?

Of course, he was!

requesting rules and masterlist

Marvel masterlist

[gloomwitchwrites]

Bar Crawl

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, dirty thoughts, flirting, alcohol, kissing

Word Count: 1.5k

On a night out, Kyle takes a chance and makes a move.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 masterlist

It’s late, and the alcohol is buzzing beneath your skin like a drone of angry bees.

You rarely go out with the rest of the SAS crowd. It’s not like you’re actually part of the organization. This is a simple transfer. A few months at the most before you head back home. And you’re not in the field anyway. You’re behind the desk, drowning in paperwork.

There is no bloodshed. No metallic tang with a burst of lead.

You only know ink, computer screens, and editing software.

This entire outing is a treat. A way to let loose. Something you haven’t really done since you set foot in England.

And it isn’t only a night out. Someone has their eye on you.

It’s subtle, and you don’t think anyone else notices. But you do. How could you not? Kyle Garrick—also known as Gaz—is incredibly handsome, and entirely sweet on you.

Right now, he’s across the pub with his team, a beer in hand. Captain Price and Sergeant MacTavish are talking while Kyle and Lieutenant Riley listen. While Kyle’s body is turned in their direction, his gaze keeps drifting. It floats away, landing on you every time.

At each meeting of your gazes, Kyle smiles. It’s not sweet exactly. It’s knowing. Nearly seductive. A teasing look from across the room. Perhaps Kyle is feeling the alcohol as you are. Feeling the heat and buzz beneath the skin. The growing sense of need that won’t seem to abate.

The pub is dark, and the lighting only comes from candles and small lamps on the walls. This place was once an old house, but the interior as been converted, and the rooms gutted. Most of the space is just a series of rooms packed with tables. The walls are covered in paintings and all sorts of oddities. It’s eclectic. Fun. But no one is really paying attention to the pub around them.

You really aren’t either. But you’re also not including yourself in the conversation around you. All you can think about is Kyle. He is absorbing into your blood just like the alcohol. Every time you glance away, you find him, no matter where he is in the room.

It is electric. Magnetic.

Building like a brewing storm.

Your heart is hammering. It’s so loud the rest of the pub seems distant. And Kyle is right there, as if you’re looking at him through binoculars. Everything is out of focus. Except him. Only him.

“Are you listening to me?”

You turn abruptly, and give your best smile to Jane, one of the secretaries. “Sorry,” you sigh. “A bit tired.”

Jane and the rest of the women are you nod in agreement. She brings her glass to her lips. “I hear that,” she mutters, taking a long drink, grimacing slightly as the glass returns to the table.

Work has been hell the last couple weeks. It’s a slew of never-ending paperwork. You’ve been stuck at a desk, pouring over reports, consuming more coffee than you probably should be.

A reply begins to form your lips, but then you hear your name being called in a voice you recognize. Everyone at the table startles, turning in the direction of the voice. For a second, you do not follow their movements, only staring down at the table.

But you hear your name again, and this time the urge to glance in Kyle’s direction is instant.

“Sergeant,” you say in greeting.

He grins at you, and then flashes that stunning smile at the women sitting around the table. “Don’t mind if I borrow her for a bit?”

“Not at all,” says Jane quickly.

The other women shake their heads, gazes astonished as you abandon your drink and take Kyle’s offered hand. While his hold is strong, there is gentleness there. You like it. You want to sink down into that feeling forever.

Kyle leads you out into a little hallway, and the clamor of the pub disappears slightly.

“Heard you’re leaving soon,” says Kyle, stepping to the side to allow an employee to pass.

It’s true. You likely only have a couple weeks left before you head home.

“Did you?” you ask. “Who from?”

You haven’t told anyone. Not really. But it’s not a big secret.

Kyle shrugs. “Does it matter?”

You mimic is shrug, and Kyle laughs softly. “Not really. This post was supposed to be temporary anyway. But you know that.”

Kyle shifts a bit closer. His heat is everywhere, warming your limbs. Kyle’s fingers playfully pull at the hem of your shirt. “Planning to leave without saying goodbye to your favorite sergeant?”

You lightly tug on his jacket in response. “Bold of you to think you’re my favorite.”

Kyle barks a laugh, and you smile demurely at your boldness.

This is nice. This is fun.

The two of you have always been a bit sweet on each other. Kyle is always making a point to come see you when he can. He knows your coffee order, and occasionally brought you snacks and lunch. The two of you would hang out and talk. He checks on you, and it softened you to him.

Eventually, you offered up a few kisses, and Kyle greedily seized them.

“Been kissing MacTavish?” asks Kyle.

“Maybe,” you tease.

Kyle tugs on your shirt, and the momentum brings you closer to him. “Maybe?” he replies, tone dropping to something dark and heated. His brow creases in the middle, and you suddenly sense a change in him. “You like his kisses better than mine?”

No.

But you haven’t actually kissed Sergeant MacTavish. He’s cute, but not your type. Kyle is. Kyle is who you want.

You shrug. “It’s been a while. Might need a reminder,” you say softly, leaning in.

The corner of Kyle’s mouth quirks with amusement. “You want to kiss me where everyone can see?”

“Nervous, Garrick?” you counter.

“Never,” smirks Kyle.

Then his hand is on the back of your neck. Kyle’s lips meet yours, and then you’re drowning in him, remembering all the ways you want to be with him.

Kissing isn’t enough. It’s not nearly enough.

You want this man between your legs, to know what he’ll feel like inside you, to have him own you body and soul. Kyle is who you’ve wanted these last few months, and all this flirting and tension has come to this.

The pub seems so distant. A far speck on the horizon. Just an annoying buzz in the background. Right now, all there is for you is Kyle. It’s delicious. Sweet, but with honey on the tongue. All those previous kisses were rather chaste and soft. This is nothing like those. It’s passion laced with salt.

These kisses drip with need, and you breathe it in, wanting more. The warm buzzing beneath your skin is transforming into an inferno.

Kyle pulls away, and you nearly stumble forward when he draws back. The loss of his lips is starling.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you all evening,” he says, voice husky.

You feel your cheeks heat. You’re suddenly hot everywhere. Burning internally. Ready to explode.

Glancing around, you find the hallway empty. But there are people nearby. Anyone could walk into this hallway and find the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. While you want to take this further, you don’t want to do it here in the open where people can see.

Wanting Kyle is a deep desire that sits in your ribcage, but you do not want others to be part of this. This connection is only for the two of you.

Kyle’s hand brushes against your cheek, and he guides your gaze back to him.

“Want to get out of here?” he asks, as if reading your mind.

“And go where?” you laugh.

People expect the two of you to be present. But then again, the two of you have been at this function for over an hour. You’ve made a proper appearance. Do you really have to stay for the whole thing? Will anyone actually miss either of you?

“Wherever you want.”

“Wherever I want?” you ask, slightly confused. “You don’t want to stay here?”

Kyle shakes his head. “Fuck everyone else,” he says sharply. “This might be my last night with you. Want to make the most of it.”

It’s true. With everything going on at work, this might be the only time the two of you can properly have together before you’re sent home. You can get his number, but finding time seems daunting.

Kyle is giving you the rope, and all you need to do is take. To take the leap and trust him.

He draws you in for another kiss, and this one is slow and sweet.

“Let’s go,” you murmur against his lips.

He smiles, and you melt.

“Where to?”

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

@sadlonelybagel @kadeeesworld @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky

@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

[asuyaka]

Heyy, idk if u're still taking requests or not but if u're not just ignore this!

TikTok really came to drag me down the Satosugu hole by the foot this week goddamn. Anyways, I'd like to request my favorite sad gay boys with a m!reader who's a effeminate soft boy and is usually pretty quiet and cooperative but the second someone says something remotely negative about the two m!reader is already throwing hands and burying the offender's head onto the ground. Bonus point if he's from the Zen'in clan!

No one's ever calling Geto's bangs 'weird' with m!reader around lol.

- '🌈' Anon.

★ - yes! reqs are open !! when the first (yippie!!) one piece one shot comes out s'when reqs are gunna close briefly cause 've got other things m'needa work on! (❁´◡`❁)

☆ - Satosugu x M! Zen'in clan reader!

Lulling chirping sounds sounded through the second-year classroom as the sun began to rise. The sound of sweeping and the screech of desks moving across the table sounded through your ears.

With a gentle hand, you plucked the dead leaves off the bouquet of flowers that usually resided on the window sill next to your seat; plucking off the leaves as well and shaking it so the petals could become more pronounced.

After cutting the stem so water could flow through them, you placed the flowers in their vase and put them in their designated position, a pleased smile on your face when you realized that was the last thing you needed to do for cleaning duty, even though it wasn't your turn.

The door slid open behind you as a tired-looking Yaga walked into class. His eyes widened for a bit when they saw you before his expression turned sour. "Good morning, [Name]. I thought Satoru had cleaning duty for today?"

You bowed politely in greeting. "He asked me to do it because he had to get limited edition crepes today."

Yaga sets his things on the table with an annoyed mumble. "Thank you, please make sure he gets to class on time."

You nodded as you left the classroom. The sun shone down on your face through the windows as you made your way to Suguru's and Satoru's dorms.

You pass by Shoko in the kitchen who was hunched over the counter making a cup of coffee. "Want a cup?" She asks, biting and finishing the remaining pocky in her mouth.

'If Suguru woke up a few minutes ago, he'd want some. Maybe Satoru would like some hot chocolate too.' You thought briefly before turning your attention back to the brunette. "Yes, please. One hot chocolate and black coffee."

Shoko grins at that instantly recognizing the order. "You've got it Mister Zen'in."

You wave goodbye and continue your journey. Suguru's dorm isn't that far from the kitchen so you got there in a short amount of time. You knocked, politely waiting for an answer.

"[Name]-chan? If it's you, you can come in!" Satoru's voice answered.

You open the door to see two bags of delivered crepes beside Satoru, who is painting Suguru's nails black. "See? Got some for you guys 'cause I'm such a nice person!"

Suguru rolls his eyes. "You only got them because you remembered flunking on cleaning duty."

You take a seat beside them, staring at Suguru's black nails. "Yaga says I should make sure you two get to class on time."

Satoru snorts, the tiniest bit of blue peeking out from his glasses. "Yeah, and when have we ever listened to what Yaga says?"

"You don't. Maybe Suguru, but I actually enjoy not getting punched in the head every time you do something stupid." You interject, causing Satoru to gasp loudly.

"Suguru! Do you hear this? I do everything I can to make sure you two are well fed and all I get in return is bullying!" Satoru whines as he sets the nail polish aside to let Suguru's nails dry and picks up the bags with a bright smile on his face.

Shoko kicks the door open with two mugs in her hand. "Here you go losers. Zen'in blink twice if they're forcing you to be here."

Suguru and Satoru stare at you expectingly, an exaggerated gasp when they see your eyes close twice.

Shoko giggles, patting the top of your head affectionately. "Yeah, I'd be scared if I was forced to hang out with them too."

She walks out of the room with a reminder that class starts in a few hours. Satoru brought out the crepes and immediately started eating them as he read the Digimon manga, periodically sipping his extra-sweet cocoa.

"[Name], why didn't you get a drink?" Suguru asks, picking up a crepe carefully so the paint doesn't smudge.

You shrug. "The place I normally get my drinks at is too far to walk in the morning."

Satoru looks at you blankly as he stuffs his face with more food. "I could've teleported, dummy. C'mon, road trip time!" He exclaims as he grabs you and Suguru.

"Satoru, no— you haven't even mastered it yet—"

You feel reality split and your stomach churns uncomfortably for a brief second before everything stills again. The sound of cars blaring runs through your ears as a familiar sidewalk reflects through your eyes. "See? easy!"

"[Name]? Are you okay?" Suguru asks, squatting in front of you with worry all over his face.

Taking a minute to breathe, you feel everything finally settle. You have no idea how Satoru can do that without throwing up. "Yes, I am... okay. Just a little disoriented."

Suguru shoots a glare at the albino who rubs your back apologetically. "Well, my apology is your drink! So come on, I wanna get back to the crepes before Shoko's fat ass eats them."

"Shoko doesn't even like the crepes you order. It's always too much sugar." Suguru defends, slapping Satoru upside the head as the three of you walk into the shop.

It's a small cafe situated inside a bookstore with soft Lofi music playing in the background. The three of you get in line. It's short, most likely due to how early it was but that only meant you could get back to the dorms on time.

You hear snickering behind you but pay no mind. After all, it was a public place, and whatever affairs other people had wasn't your business.

Then, you hear something about how a guy has his nails painted. In the corner of your eye, you can see them pointing at Suguru.

Either Suguru and Satoru notice and they don't care, or they don't notice. Either way, you weren't going to let them poke fun at your friend (boyfriend?) and get away with it.

"Is something the matter?"

They stare at you, visibly sizing you up. "Wondering why your friend has nail polish on, isn't that only for chicks?"

Satoru taps you on your shoulder. "Take it outside, don't want you to beat their ass and get banned, yanno?"

You acknowledge him but keep a sharp gaze on the two of them. "Giving gendered terms to inanimate objects is an extremely stupid thing to do. It is not on you, so why should you care what he has on?"

The implication of calling them stupid seemed to hit a nerve because a vein pops in their forehead and their fists clench. "Cause it's fucking gay. What? You like taking it up the ass too?"

"If a fight is what you want, then that is fine with me. Do not let your petty ideals and quite frankly shitty opinions mess up my morning."

They keep talking as you make your way outside. The instant the door chimes close, a loud groan rips through one of their mouths.

They hold onto their nose, now streaming blood and broken. "Dude, what the fuck?!"

"You wanted a fight, did you not? Now, I am quite busy at the moment so if that is all, then I bid you a good rest of your day."

As you were about to walk back into the store, Suguru and Satoru came out with your drink in hand. "Yo! Here, got the kind you like cause I loveee you so much!" Satoru kisses your cheek and hands you your order, especially as you like it.

"Thank you, Satoru. Would you like to go back to the dorms now?"

Suguru stuffs a cake pop in your mouth, handing Satoru one and eating one as well. "Thanks for... that, by the way."

"It's no problem. You are my... partner, after all."

Satoru grins as he latches onto the two of you again. "Teleportation time, let's go!"

"Satoru, no—"

[tinysimmer]

Artsy Baby set! 👶

It took me a long time but this is a new set (recolor) of some items from the base game and growing together that were really basic and I wanted to change them. This style is inspired by one of my sims who likes art, cottage style and Ghibli movies (yeah) so if you like those things (or your sim cof cof) you will like this set. Each item is separately, includes:  

Artsy Baby crib (3 wood styles) (18 swatches) some swatches have a blanket  others are plain and others are floral and cottage style. 

Artsy Baby cottage Snapper (16 swatches) (crib-like textures) 

Artsy Changing Station (15 swatches)

Ghibli portraits and landscapes (15 sw) (random movies) 

Custom paintings by Ryuedoc (really pretty drawing style) 

The textures include drawings by @ryuedoc, by @pluto-sims , pixabay and mine.

DL  (download in patreon) (always free)

TOU- please don't share as your own, don't reupload without giving credit, don't edit the file without asking.

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Tentative Timeline (Pt2c) - Unreliable Narrators, Armand & the Trial

Thanks for the response to Pt2b, @usuallydeepalpaca-blog! I really want people to talk to me about the IWTV timelines, cuz this show is SO confusing! 😩😭

"I think if you create the timeline with info the show doesn't provide, i.e. Armand was involved from the start, then you're bound to get it wrong."

Absolutely. I fully expect that I got some stuff wrong, which is why I said it's a TENTATIVE Timeline.

I've in no way said it's THEE CORRECT™ timeline, cuz chile IDKWTF is going on. 😅 I openly say what confuses me, questions I have, and how I come to the conclusions that I draw. I'm being as transparent as possible to let y'all know that I DON'T know. 🤷 The show doesn't provide EVERYthing, so I'm just piecing things together in a way that makes an iota of sense to me, following the logic of what the show HAS provided. The only solid details we have are diehard IRL dates, that gave us a time range when certain events can/can't happen. AFAIK I'm working with the same set of details everyone else has, until AMC gives us more info in S3+. And unfortunately, the 2 biggest unknown variables are Lestat & Armand, and to what extent they were/weren't involved in the Trial that got Claudia killed & Louis buried alive.

"saying Armand messed with Louis' memories re: the trial is also something not supported by the show."

The show obvs. wants us to assume that Armand made Louis hallucinate Sam guarding him in the theatre box (thus painting Armand as a "captive" along with Louis & Claudeleine).

Even if Armand didn't use the Mind Gift on Louis, he lied at least twice:

lies by omission: letting Louis think a hallucination of Sam was real

lies to Louis' (& Daniel's) face: going along with the premise that he was Sam's "captive" & Armand sat there the whole time thinking of a way to rescue Louis

And we KNOW this is a lie, cuz Daniel calls it out explicitly, asking how Sam can be "in two places at once," allegedly "guarding" Armand, but ALSO helping to torture Louis in the Wet Room.

Armand never denied or contradicted Louis saying Sam was in either place. Maybe Louis really did misremember Sam being in the wet room--the ONLY one who can corroborate all this is SAM--whom Armand ALSO lies on, throwing Sam, Daniel & the Talamasca all under the bus by saying the script with his handwriting all over it was forged! No honor amongst thieves I guess! 🤣

(Eff Lestat's POV in S3--when is SAM gonna give HIS POV of the Trial?!)

So I'm operating on patterns of behavior, and the logic that if he's deliberately lying about one thing (a VERY BIG THING, actually), then what else is he lying about? How are you "atoning" for anything, when you're just heaping lies on top of gaslighting on top of manipulation?

Armand has used Louis' obvious confusion to his advantage, just going along with whatever will make him look better & more sympathetic. Which ofc, is the exact same thing he does with the "Banishment" lie. "They gave me a choice...I could not prevent it" is the truth and a lie all rolled into one incredibly manipulative cocktail, cuz if it was just a simple matter of Armand selling Claudia out to save Louis, that would be one thing--but Armand KNEW the script planned LOUIS' death the whole time. The "seismic lie" about "Banishment" effs up Armand's whole defense.

Cuz Sam already wrote the script in April 1949 (and I said this is confusing, cuz if it's the WHOLE script, then this implies Lestat's half was written by then, too, and NOT in September after the Eiffel Tower crime--which means he was ALREADY in Paris & working with the coven; inc. Armand (which would also explain WHY Armand took Louis to the library so much--perhaps anticipating that Loustat would feel e/o's presence if Louis was around the theatre too much? But that doesn't explain Claudia)--omfg I'm confused). Wtvr--we KNOW that at some point b/t April & September 1949, Armand made his edits & directed the entire production--from Santiago to Lestat to Tuan's projections--ALL of it. And we know Tuan's projections started being made in June/July 1949.

Armand KNEW Daniel had been given the OLD script from the archives, WITHOUT Armand's edits & directions, and LET Daniel AND Louis think that was the truth--

--same way he went behind Louis' back and removed extra pages from Claudia's diaries that would reveal MORE of his shenanigans--

--and the same way he lied about Nicki (& Gabrielle) in 2x3.

The show ALSO provides us with quotes like this:

And this:

And this:

Which in retrospect make Armand look even more insidious, esp. when we wonder to what extend Louis' been "driven to form new conclusions about myself" when he doesn't even KNOW himself; let alone WHAT memories he has that are real or false.

It's so effed up, and it makes me side-eye all the insistence that LOUIS is the one mostly at fault, when he's got literal double-hypnosis Brain Scramblies from WWDITS. 😭🤦

Ofc there are unknown-unknowns when dealing with unreliable narration. But there are also known-unknowns, too, that also make Armand sus.

Sure, Loumand was away at the library in July (IF that memory's even real, Mr. "I Had A Hunch")--but how on earth would Armand have NOT known that the coven was working on the Trial right under his nose for MONTHS prior & after July--Luchenbaum sewing new barrister costumes & wigs; Tuan painting projections & testing new lens/film tech; and Sam writing a new script (when we already KNOW Sam can't multitask when his "head's in a hat")?

July is only ONE month in over HALF A YEAR of Trial prep. Louis was never around the coven to know what was going on--but ARMAND was; it's where HE lives.

Whose POV was it that showed the whole coven passing around Claudia's diaries? Whose POV was it that revealed Santiago being called Maitre in every scene that ARMAND was also in?

Armand was in the park with Tuan when Tuan called Santiago Maitre; and Armand was in the theatre with Sam when Sam called Santiago Maitre--so this is clearly either Armand's POV telling on himself; or it's AMC screwing with us.

It's TRUE that Turning Madeleine was the straw that broke the camel's back, as Armand was like I can't keep THAT a secret from the coven, too (and ofc he couldn't--they're VAMPIRES; they'd FEEL a new vamp in their territory). But Loumand's problems PREDATE Madeleine; the same way Loustat's problems predate Claudia. I blame Les for not dealing with Lou's BS, just like I blame Armand, cuz THEY are the Coven Masters, NOT Lou--esp. cuz Armand had 14 other vamps in his coven he SHOULD be prioritizing over Lou. The same way Loustat's guilty of being bad fathers (which they BOTH admitted to), Armand's guilty of being a bad coven leader (which HE admitted to).

IMO, all this makes any & all discussion about Armand's trustworthiness difficult, when his "seismic lie" throws EVERYTHING else he's done into question. Esp. since the show ALSO provides us with the FACT that Armand knew from DAY ONE that Claudia lied about "Bruce"/Lestat; and that Louis was a terrible liar & terrible with the Mind Gift; and that he'd ALREADY planned on killing Louis in 2x3! Armand knew from the get-go that he couldn't do EFF ALL to keep Louis & Claudia out of danger, and TOLD Louis so.

"It also ignores that Louis softens his participation in certain things because he can't live with the guilt of his full participation, e.g. Claudia's turning, which he continued to lie to Claudia about even during the trial and only accepted the extent of his involvement in Dubai"

The Trial Timeline's purpose is to pinpoint when the preparations took place, NOT to hash out how bad of a father Louis was to Claudia. 🤨

And it certainly isn't meant to provide a timeline for the events in S1 wrt Claudia's Turning--we already know the dates for all of that, that she was made in 1917. I focus on the 1940s in S2, and the European dates, NOT the NOLA dates. LOUIS did not participate in the Trial's preparations, ARMAND & LESTAT did. My timeline has ZERO bearings on Louis' guilt for not warning her, etc.

But on the subject of Louis & Claudia, I've cussed Louis out for not telling Claudia about Armand b4 (x x), I don't ignore it at all. I fully understand & even agree with Armand being fed up with dealing with Louis' BS. But HE CHOSE not to kill Louis when he had the chance, and it's obvs that whatever arrangement they made when they had sex in 2x3/2x4 allowed Louis to TRUST that Armand would keep "the secret" & keep Louis & Claudia SAFE from the coven. (Which is a BOGUS claim for him to make, when Santiago'd ALREADY peeped that they were lying about Lestat & being from NOLA, but wtvr). I've called Louis a naive idiot 1000x for overestimating Armand, putting his life in Armand's incapable hands--just like he would AGAIN by trusting him about "Banishment;" and AGAIN by asking Armand to wipe his memories in SanFran (and LIE by omission about Les saying "I love you, Louis").

"Louis remembers the trial, he remembers what was said and what Lestat showed him."

HOW can Lestat have showed Louis ANY memories during the Trial (inc. the Ep4 revisit), when Makers/Fledglings CANNOT read each other's minds???????

I love this show so much, but I effing hate this show--they don't even give us an answer, Daniel just moves right past it, like wtf are we supposed to do with that, AMC? There's plot threads, vs plot HOLES. Louis' TOO unreliable, Armand's a shysty liar, white savior Lestat to the rescue~~~! "BANishMEnT~!" As if Lestat's any less impartial?

Esp. when at least SOME parts of the Ep4 Revisit were OBVIOUSLY Scripted lines written by the coven to implicate Louis in breaking the Great Laws that Lestat allegedly taught him AND Claudia to follow?

Like, Louis HATES himself, and is quick to blame himself for things beyond his control (a la Paul, a la the Ordinances; "Can we be forgiven if we do not forgive others ourselves?"); so if one is determined to see him bad faith then of course one can easily pounce on him Florence DPDL style / Santiago style, and blame him.

(Esp. since in 1x4 we literally SEE Louis admit to begging & emotionally baby-trapping Lestat into turning Claudia--the revisit in 2x7 is more (melo)dramatic & extended, sure, but it does NOT contradict Louis' account in S1. So I get REAL confused when people say he lied about 1x4 or wtvr.)

Louis invalidates his perspective cuz he KNOWS he's an unreliable narrator--he spends 2x1 sobbing about wanting to remember & "get every detail right"--and ARMAND is there constantly tryna STOP the interview; having directly contributed to his already deteriorated (& inherited?) mental illness, by bending Lou's trauma into "a Lestat shaped-effigy" with all that "I will not harm you" bullcrap.

TL;DR: We won't know for sure what the Trial timeline actually looks like, unless S3+ revisits it with more context.

But as things stand at the end of S2, NO, I don't trust Armand as far as I can throw him, cuz there are waaaay too many instances where he's deliberately lied & obfuscated & omitted in ways to deliberately confuse the narrative surrounding the Trial--that go beyond Louis' already confirmed trauma, PTSD, mental illness, repressed/faulty memory, and guilty conscious.

If y'all want a timeline of S1 events, those have already been made by other people in the fandom (this one is goated).

I wanted to know what was going on in S2; so I used every single date and IRL reference possible, and put them in chronological order in a way that makes sense based on how I TENTATIVELY understand things currently; NOT how AMC has confirmed yet--if they ever will.

If anyone has more relevant in-show references & IRL sources we can cite, to help make better sense of S2 than I did, let us all know!

[chere-indolente]

At the Theater

It's me again ! I won't rest easy until I'm done filling the gaps in my 1880s wardrobe and evening wear sure was a big one. So here, come and look at these 1870's / 1880's evening bodices, 4 of them ! You're welcome, just don't use them for gardening or the historical fashion police will be on your back ❤️

More pics and download below

This set was inspired by 2 of Mary Cassatt's paintings : as referenced in the title, At the Theater, 1880 and Woman in a Loge, 1879.

——————— Plain and Bow Bodices ———————

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These 2 bodice are the ones that are most inspired by Mary Cassatt's paintings, but it's also a style I've seen a bunch in other impressionist paintings of the time. It's a simple sleek bodice with off the shoulder sleeves and a low rounded collar as was fashionable in the late 1870s and early 1880s.

It is specially made to be worn over my bustle skirts. An overlay is included to change the bow's color.

74 swatches for the bodices : 22 solids, 10 floral, 6 plaid, 25 striped & 11 polka dot patterns

22 solid swatches for the bow overlay

the bow overlay is in the right wrist section

Disclaimer :

1 -be aware there will be some distorsion in the armpit area, I did my best but armpit weights are tricky.

2 - the patterned swatches will not be seamless in that same armpit region as you can see below it's quite cluncky :

————————— Rococo Bodice —————————

———————————————————————————

This bodice, like the name implies, is inspired by Rococo fashion. The Rococo style dates back to the 18th century and it had a bit of a revival during the victorian era which impacted the fashion as much as the interior decor among other things. This influence, here, results in a squarish neck line and a triangle piece reminiscent of 18th century stomachers.

Like the the plain and bow bodices it has been specially made to be worn over my bustle skirts. An overlay is included to change the trim's color.

74 swatches for the bodice : 22 solids, 10 florals, 6 plaids, 25 stripes & 11 polka dots patterns

22 solid swatches for the Rococo trim overlay

the Rococo trim overlay is in the right wrist section

————————— Flower Bodice —————————

———————————————————————————

This bodice was mostly inspired by some fashion plates from 1880.

Contrary to the 3 others, I made it so it sits under the skirt, so it'll work with other bottoms than my bustle skirt too should you want to.

74 swatches for the bodice : 22 solids, 10 florals, 6 plaids, 25 stripes & 11 polka dots patterns

62 swatches with various color combinations for the flower overlay

the flower overlay is in the right wrist section

——————————   Boutonnière  —————————

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In addition to the flower accessories from my previous set, here is a boutonnière that sits lower on the chest to work with lower neck lines. Contrary to my previous boutonnière, this one is also compatible with necklaces. Like my other flower accessories, this is a pretty timeless accessory as evidence by the picture below.

Once again this is an edit of @the-melancholy-maiden's Hair Flowers Through the Ages Part 2 thanks to her very open TOU.

not compatible with hats

in the nose piercing section (so that it's compatible with necklace)

51 swatches : the-melancholy-maiden's original 29 colors and my 22 colors

available for female frames

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Download : dropbox — simfileshare

———————————————————————————

And as a little bonus some of my main reference pictures :

[fayes-fics]

Bella Notte

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: A moonlight lake swim with Benedict

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, innocence/corruption kink, first-time kissing, breast fondling, fingering, penis touching (i.e. first second and third base activities lol), romantic I guess?

Word Count: 2.9k

Authors Note: this is a very overdue fic request for my dear Emmy @iboopedyournose that she sent over DM many months ago. (Request: romantic moonlight swim with Benedict that leads to something steamy 😉😋). I don't know if there's enough romance here. I hope so. Also I’m sorry, I just wrote this now; I'm a bad friend. I hope you enjoy <3 (PS I almost subtitled this Innocence: underwater edition)

It’s after midnight when you and Benedict secretly steal down to the water's edge at Aubrey Hall. This is your first time unchaperoned with your intended; even just meeting him in the dead of night in the hallway seemed thrilling. But when he suggests you go to the lake, your whole body shivers at the prospect—not only for the clandestine time alone but also for the chance to dip a toe into the cool water, such a tempting prospect after an unrelentingly stifling hot July day. 

The setting is stunning, the trees surrounding you a beautiful silhouette under a blanket of stars, the milky white waxing moon reflecting upon the mirror-smooth surface of the lake.

Benedict squeezes your hand and catches your eye.

“Shall we?” his buttery voice is such an alluring temptation you can’t resist.

“We shouldn’t…,” you demure.

“That, my dear fiancee, is not exactly a no,” he murmurs, releasing your hand to strip off his shirt, revealing a toned chest that makes you bite your cheek.

“You first,” you whisper, a light breeze ruffling the strands of hair around your face as you watch him raise an eyebrow and reach for the buttons on his britches.

“If you wish to remain innocent, avert your eyes,” he suggests playfully.

You inhale sharply and spin around to face the house, your cheeks aflame, but your eyes cut to the side, half hoping to catch a furtive glimpse of your husband-to-be’s naked body. You hear the rustle of clothing being shed and then the splash of water as he seems to throw himself in bodily. The moan he makes as he surfaces does things to your insides that you don't fully understand, steadfastly still facing away.

“You may turn around now,” he calls, bemused, “I am concealed by the water.”

You slowly spin around to see him standing upright and almost choke. The waterline hugs low on his hips. So dangerously low there is dark thatch of hair peaking above the surface. And above it, acres of toned, muscular, very male torso painted with water droplets. You know you are staring—you know you are probably slack-jawed. Your gaze eventually reaches his face, and it's sin personified. He knows exactly what he is doing to you, teasing you, his hair slicked back against his head, emphasising the handsome lines of his face.

“Are you coming in too, or is this merely a spectator’s sport for you?” he intones, that lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You are so troublesome, Mr Bridgerton,” you murmur, trying to school your expression, but you just end up biting your lip, very much wishing for a fan as you feel your face heating.

“I promise nothing untoward,” he offers chivalrously, holding out a hand to beckon you in, “unless you want it,” the dusky addition makes your stomach flip.

He turns around and shoots you a sultry look over his shoulder before jumping up and diving back down into the water in a perfect fluid motion…. Giving you an eyeful of a very pert, very shapely, naked bottom as he does so.

“Dear god…” you exhale, looking skyward, knowing this will test your willpower, but somehow still drawn inexorably towards the water. After all, it has been such a HOT day; this will cool your body like nothing else.

As he swims away, you strip off your light silk robe to your white cotton nightgown and place a foot into the water.

The rocks under your toes are cool, smooth and slightly mossy. It feels heavenly. And so you wade in, the ground falling away fast, and by the time you are four paces from the edge, the water tickles against the apex of your thighs, and you sigh. The cold tamping, the fiery heat you feel there, mainly due to the man making his way back to you in a leisurely breaststroke, a smile on his face.

“So glad you decided to join me,” he lilts. “It's so refreshing, is it not?”

“Yes,” you sigh, moving deeper so the water is up around your waist, your nightdress starting to float up and away from your body. “Such a balm,” you add.

He hums in agreement and tips his head back, looking up at the moon.

“The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees, and they did make no noise, in such a night.” his delivery wistful.

“Shakespeare,” you breathe, your heart speeding up at the lyrical words he speaks from memory.

“Indeed,” he looks over at you, his eyes soft. “I enjoy nothing more than the truths he reveals so poetically. How he talks of beauty, nature, all the range of human emotions, and love,” he expands, moving closer, little waves of water buffering against your breast as he wades shallower and you deeper, drawn inescapably to him. 

He takes your hand from the surface and bends down slightly to kiss the back of it, his warm lips grazing your knuckles a contrast to the cool water dripping from your fingertips. Your breath catches in your throat at this simple move. You want to say something in response, but somehow all of your vocabulary seems inadequate, and you feel quite tongue-tied. 

“Come, swim with me,” he prompts softly, pulling you into the deeper water, and you let your feet float up from the ground. 

Your nightgown pooling in diaphanous layers around you, the cool water seeping into every crevice of your body, making you feel calm and soothed for the first time since this insatiable heatwave began. You start to move in a leisurely stroke keeping up with Benedict as he glances over and smiles at you encouragingly.

The moon, the sound of water moving gently over your limbs, the rustle of the trees and the trace of scent wafting from the nearby rose garden all make for a wonderous moment, and you roll onto your back, staring at the stars.

“Thank you for this,” you say quietly as you both slow, nearing the middle of the lake. 

“It is my pleasure,” he assures.

“It is very romantic,” you murmur, knowing your cheeks blush at your words. “The setting, I mean,” you quickly amend for some reason, somehow reticent to express romantic feelings.

“Not just the setting has to be romantic,” he offers, his voice low as he moves closer again.

You have to put your feet back onto the stony bottom to not feel unmoored by the tone and the sultry look in his eyes. The water is up to your neck almost.

“Benedict,” his name a sigh from your lips, even though you are unsure why you say it. A reflex, a call to him, a warning, even you do not know. All you feel is the heart beating wildly against your ribcage as he crowds into you.

“Y/n,” he purrs, and even in the water, you feel suddenly flushed. “Im going to kiss you,” he whispers, almost a warning, giving you a chance to move away.

Instead, you hold his molten gaze, equally excited and nervous about the prospect. Apart from a few chaste hand kisses, you have done nothing more in all your years on this earth.

“Okay…” you exhale shakily.

And then there is a large hand cupping your whole face, tilting you up to look at him. This close, he is so handsome, all cheekbones and strong jaw. You just freeze like a rabbit in the crosshairs. There is a warm gust of air over your nose as he breathes out, and then soft lips damp land on yours. 

Something fires in your chest like a gun, and your eyelids flutter shut. Then he is pressing harder, more insistent, moving his lips against yours. Unsure of what else to do or how to catalogue what is happening, you try to mirror his movements, pushing back with your closed lips up onto your tiptoes—a noise from deep within his body thrills every inch of your being. Arms band tight around your body, you are pulled against a solid warm chest, and your whole world explodes into fireworks behind your closed eyes. You can't help the gasp over his mouth, and his responding deep chuckle vibrates your entire being.

“Darling, I haven't even kissed you properly yet,” his tone dripping with bemusement as he speaks against your lips.

“What do you mean?” you stutter, trying to adjust to being in his strong embrace.

“Do you know what a true kiss feels like?” his question is so dark and smooth it hypnotises you.

“No,” you answer, breathing a little heavy.

“You are about to.”

His lips are back, and this time he opens his mouth, the hot wave of moisture, heat and taste taking you by surprise. His tongue rolls against your lips. You squeak, and on instinct, your mouth opens under his. Now it is massaging against yours, and there is a molten hot tingle between your legs. What on earth is he doing to you? You feel drunk, overwhelmed, just so much taste, sight, smell and just him. It seems apt you are in a lake seeing as you feel like you are drowning in him.

He breaks away slowly, and as you reopen your eyes, he smiles at you.

“How was that?” even you can detect the pride in his tone, knowing exactly how affected you are.

“Wonderful,” you respond honestly, and he beams at you.

And then he is kissing you again. The same passionate way. And then again. Over and over, your lips meet; minutes blur into each other. Exploring each other's mouths, his hand tender on your jaw.

“Would you like to know more?” There is no way you can resist that dark honeyed tone.

“Yes,” you sigh, desperate to understand what awaits you once you are married.

The hand around your jaw slips lower, fingers trailing over your neck as he holds your gaze. You can't look away, but your breath speeds up as that hand feels so heavy travels lower, fingers trailing your collarbone and then sinking lower, mapping your sternum as your chest rises and falls quicker than before. That crooked grin unfurls as he moves his hand to the right and cups your breast over your now translucent nightgown. You inhale sharply as your body responds, blood running hot. And then his fingertips trace over your nipple, and you moan lightly in your throat.

“Yes, darling,” it's gravelly, and his face is one of understanding for your plight and sheer carnal delight that he is the cause.

His other hand moves from around your waist, mapping your side until it mirrors the actions of his other hand on your other breast, and you practically swoon against him.

“Benedict,” you utter his name shakily, his smile turning predatory. 

“My darling wife-to-be, your body was made for me,” he murmurs. “Look how well your breasts fit into my hands.”

You bite your lip as you look down at the beguiling site of his huge hands holding your body; something ablaze inside you, liquid and volcanic. It makes you want to pull up and wrap your legs around his body, press him into the middle of your thighs, into that tugging ache.

“Show me more,” you plead, looking into his eyes, watching his pupils rapidly dilate and his tongue dart out to lick his bottom lip.

Then one of his hands moves to the buttons in the middle of your nightgown and flicks open a button. And then another. And another. And another. All the while, his fingers trace the slit of skin revealed down to your navel. His hands land on your shoulders, pushing the two sides of your nightgown apart and sliding it down over your arms. 

Under the water, you are now topless. Your skin breaks into goosebumps that have nothing to do with the water temperature but everything to do with the man in front of you.

Then you are wrenched back into his strong embrace and stunned into silence at the feel of his naked chest crushing yours—so solid, so smooth, your nipples pebbling so hard under his contours.

His lips find your neck, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders, hands mapping the lithe tone, the play of muscle under your fingertips.

You can scarcely believe something this good is possible. You have heard married women talk of needing to submit to the will of their husband's desires. But if this is anything close to what they mean, you wholeheartedly disagree. You want to submit to him utterly. Completely. He can do this to you as much as he wants.

“I will,” he responds fiercely into your skin, and you realise you must have said your last thought aloud. “Darling, I will kiss and hold you and do so many wonderful things every day if you will allow me.” 

“You can do whatever you want to me, Benedict,” you vow.

His responding groan right into your ear makes every inch of your body tingle.

“Darling, my sweet, you have no idea what you are saying yet, but god, I hope that is true,” he sounds so fervent, so very overwrought.

“Are you distressed, Benedict?” you blurt out, pulling his face between your hands and looking into his eyes, worried about how agitated he seems.

“No, my love,” he reassures, “this is passion; this is need. I want to do so many many things with you. But we should not until we are married.”

“Are there not things we can do before we are married to help with your need?” so curious to know more.

He leans his forehead against yours and closes his eyes. “I can hold you, and we can touch in places, briefly….” It sounds so taboo your blood runs hot.

“Where?” you breathe onto his cheeks.

“Between our legs,” he mutters back.

“I ache there,” you confess, “when you kiss me.”

He groans again and licks his lips; eyes still screwed shut. “That is wonderful news, my love. That is how it should be; it means you desire me as much as I desire you.”

“How will I know that you desire me?”

He grabs your wrist from around his neck and guides your hand slowly underwater. Then he presses your hand against something large, hard, and entirely unlike what you have between your legs. Your eyes go wide; your mouth falls open. Your hand on hot, steely flesh.

“That,” he rumbles, his eyes flaring open, stare piercing yours, “that is how you know I desire you, my love.”

“Wh.. what is that?” you gasp.

“That is my cock, and when we are married, it goes inside you,” he explains breathily as he presses your palm more forcefully into it, rocking his hips slightly.

“What? Where?” you are completely non-plussed.

He pulls your hand away and slides it between your legs, the layers of your nightgown billowing in a ring around your waist.

“Right here,” he intones softly, and you gasp as he pushes your middle finger up and into your body, his grip on your hand so tight.

“It won't fit,” you fret.

“It will,” he soothes, releasing your wrist, “look, it can take my finger and yours.” 

That is all the warning he gives before his long elegant digit plunges into your channel, flanking yours. You inhale staccato in shock and awe at the feeling.

“You are so very tight,” his voice at once reedy, “but I assure you, my love, I will fit. That is the marital act,” he adds, slowly withdrawing his fingers and yours.

“THAT is the marital act?!?” your mind still reeling from what has just transpired. “I have heard rumours that I must allow you to do things to me for ‘the marital act’. But... but I had no idea; I had heard it is unpleasant but short.” you frown, confused.

He huffs a laugh and grabs your jaw, pulling you against him so close his cock brands hot against your belly.

“It shall be neither, I assure you of that. You will demand, and receive, from me pleasure. At length.” Something in the way he says it stokes a fire inside you that cannot wait until that day. “But until then…” he sighs, pulling away, “we must resist further temptation, my love. As much as I want nothing more than to wrap your hand around my cock and push my fingers into your body, it is not fair to defile you as such yet.”

You pout at him as he reluctantly hauls your nightgown onto your shoulders beneath the surface. He has teased you with what awaits, and you are now hungry for more. 

But he kisses your lips chastely and turns back to look at the house. “We should probably swim back to shore and depart for our beds. Now that we are cooled down,” he adds with a wink.

“Speak for yourself,” you grouse uncharacteristically, refastening your buttons. “I may well be feeling more flushed now than I was before I stepped into the lake. No thanks to you.”

You have never shown your sassy side to Benedict before, always trying to play the demure fiancee your family has lectured you to be. But with everything that has happened, you feel unable to school your real personality from flaring out of you.

And the look he gives you is everything. It is desire, fascination and surprise all wrapped into one handsome raised eyebrow. You want to bathe in it.

“Oh, Mrs Bridgerton,” your upcoming name dripping syllable by decadent syllable from his lips, “such a sharp tongue. We will have plenty of fun putting that to very good use, I assure you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84

[mushm00nsblog]

“A flower for you, my dear!”

Featuring: venti x reader, lyney x reader, ayaka x reader and lisa x reader (separate)

Synopsis: you’re on a date with them, when they suddenly give you a flower! how cute <3

Warnings: fluffy! Readers are already dating the character, reader is an implied female but there isn’t any pronouns used! Pet names ‘cutie’ and ‘dear’ are used! (Edited and refined)

Mush’s two cents: hello! this was just a cute lil idea for all these flirty genshin romancers that came to me as a shower thought. I originally thought of only the lyney one, but then I was like “erm I just wrote for lyney?? I need more characters!” and thought long and hard (it took me a few seconds) to come up with these. I wanted to make them all have different stories but make them off of the same concept, so I’m sorry if the repetition of the flower quote as you’ve seen before gets old... alas! I hope things appeal to your expectations. enjoy!

venti

You swung your legs back and forth slowly to the melody venti plays beautifully for your ears only on a branch of the Windrise tree.

His eyes were closed as his experienced fingers plucked the strings, you watched him closely, sighing an admiral sigh as you take in his painting-like appearance.

A sudden breeze flows up through the open air, and you watch as the god of anemo’s braids flow along with it— allowing the wind to guide your hair in the same direction as well.

The breeze doesn’t last long, but by the end of it, you eye a flower flying towards your direction, not batting an eye at it as all that mattered right now was your rhythmic lover..

Suddenly, right as the flower flies past both of you in the current, venti sticks an arm out to catch it swiftly, ending his lyre playing abruptly and pulling you out of your trance.

“Oh look! Here’s a flower!” He exclaims when he grabs it out from the gushing winds grasps.

Venti holds the flower up to you, chuckling softly as your expression changes to widened eyes, clearly not expecting that. “For you, my dear.”

The wind had stopped and all that you’re met with is ventis eyes, his hand extending a lovely Dandelion up to you.

Your cheeks warm up as you take the flower from his hands, smiling sweetly before looking back up into your lovers eyes.

“Thank you, venti..” you speak, softly, watching your lovers eyes flutter closed once more as he picks up a different melody on his instrument.

Afterwards: “venti! how’d you grab that flower so quickly?” “ehehe.. who’s to say I wasn’t the one that sent it this way?”

Lyney

Having not had seen your boyfriend, lyney for a while, you both opted to make time for each other at your place, setting up a comfortable space on your sofa for some quality time.

You were both on separate cushions, a card game of Genius Invocation TCG plastered out on the center cushion in the middle of you guys.

As far as it seemed, you were winning the card game so far, having all 3 of your cards still playing as only two of lyneys were left.

He let out a playful gasp when you took down his first card, having him looking up at you with a little pout before he resets his facial expression to his usual smile.

“I admire your handiwork!” *he says with a playful glint in his eyes, before he suddenly looks as if he’d noticed something.

“Hey.. what’s that behind your ear?” he questions, making you take your eyes off the card game and focus on what exactly is behind your ear.

He leans forward, moving his hand behind your ear, reaching for something before pulling his hand back into your view, holding a rainbow rose!

Your eyes beamed as you gasped. “Oh look at that! It’s a flower!” he exclaims, putting on an act as if he wasn’t the one that made it appear. “For you, my dear”

You take the rainbow rose into your hands excitedly, your eyes shining as your admire the rose, blushing softly when your eyes meet his as you remember the meaning behind gifting rainbow roses.

“Thank you lyney!” You thank him, excitedly leaning in close to him and hovering over the cards to place a quick kiss to his cheek. “Let me go put this somewhere safe now..”

With that, lyney nods and watches you walk not too far away, placing your lovely new rainbow rose in a vase and setting it down on your coffee table in front of the sofa.

“There!” As you set down the flower, you admire it proudly, taking your seat a few seconds later.

“hey! what happened to my cards??” “now you see it now you don’t! looks like I win!”

Ayaka

You watched mesmerizingly as Ayaka finishes her Sakura Bloom Dance in Chinju forest, applauding once she finishes and watching her bow with a sweet smile on her face.

“Wow, Ayaka… I’ve seen this dance so many times.. but each time I see it I’m always amazed.” You say, sighing out when you finish speaking, and she lets out a little giggle at your compliment.

“Thank you, I do appreciate your admiring.” She replies sweetly. “There is something different about this dance in particular though..”

When she mentions that something was different about the dance she performed this time, you were lost. You hadn’t noticed anything but to be honest, you also felt like nothing changed about it.

You tilt your head, straightening out a bit as you wonder what she’s referring to, inevitably drawing a blank and asking her what it was.

She chuckled softly, looking off to the side and opening her fan to block her face before walking towards you, hiding something behind her back.

When she reaches you, she pulled out a bouquet of Sakura Blooms, handing them to you with her face hidden behind her fan.

“These flowers are for you.. my dear.”

Once you take the flowers: “ayaka? are you blushing?” “ah.. perhaps— maybe a little bit.”

Lisa

You often find yourself in the Favonius Library, reading countless of books all afternoon alongside your girlfriend, Lisa when she voices her complaints about nobody coming into the library as of late.

It had turned into a regular occurrence, and now the two of you find yourself here for dates as well.

That brings you to where you are now, sharing some tea with your lover whilst reading separate books at one of the library tables.

You had your head down in a book when she closed hers, letting out a yawn before she begins to play with some electricity in her hands.

Noticing her immediately once she closes her book, you pick up your head and look at what she’s doing, noticing that she’s forming something out of electro!

“Oooh what’s that, Lisa?” You ask, leaning forward a bit.

She looks at you once she notices you’ve seen what she was doing, her usual smile appearing on her face as she forms the object she was making quicker and placing it on the book you were reading.

“Hm..? See for yourself.” She says, pointing towards the object on your book before leaning her hands on the table, watching you look down to see… a purple rose!

“Wowww..! It’s so pretty!” You say, reaching your hand out for it before feeling a sudden zap against your fingers- making you pull back with a gasp and look at your hand.

Lisa only chuckled when she watched this, making you blush a bit out of embarrassment.

“Did you feel the spark, cutie~?”

Afterwards: “lisa! thats not funny!” “awh.. well what did you expect cutie~?” “..staaaaaaahhhp…”

aaaaaaah it’s currently 1:50 AM 😭😭I’m so sorry if this is out of character or doesn’t make sense, I was a little out of it while making it tonight since I’m a bit tired.

Reblogs are deeply appreciated!

[cat-mermaid]

I know the layout of the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk so thoroughly that I know exactly where they slapped that thing with one glance:

Right by the Sky Glider entrance BAM and its so funny to me that they were like JUST PAINT A BIG SHEET OF WOOD AND PUT LIGHTS ON IT AND STICK IN ON THE BEACH FUCK IT because they didn't want/couldn't alter the appearance of any of the attractions on the actual boardwalk itself? u gotta understand that there are not just things sitting on the beach like that in RL, they just propped that fake door against the bottom of the boardwalk wall the raises it up from the beach

Thats so funny to me because for Lost Boys they were going ham fucking with the boardwalk for that movie, making Santa Carla neon signs and sticking them on real parts of the boardwalk!

you know wat, was gonna comb through the movie for some better examples of stuff they changed on the actual boardwalk for Lost Boys but damn they need to make a cut of the movie thats just the boardwalk scenes, I ain't going through all this 80s vampire boy drama right now lol

*edit*

you fucking see? It just tickles me that they stuck that set piece right here of all places

[queers-gambit]

Menace

prompt: ( request that i accidentally deleted ) in essence, "drabble about Tangerine going to the bathroom and texting Reader 'come here'."

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 4.4k+

warnings: cursing, OC!Tangerine, we talk mental health (social anxiety), established relationship, busy public work settings, the request and then some, alcohol consumption, smut, bathroom sex at a work event (Cherry, what the fuck?), handguns and mild depiction of violence 'cause it's Tangerine, i give him a 'real' name (Aaron), not edited.

"This is such bullshit, sugar, c'mon, fuck are we doin' here?" Tangerine snipped in your ear, his arm curled protectively around your waist as he glared at those in rich suits and expensive colognes around him. "We don't belong 'round this lot, they're just here t'wave their money. There's no real reason for us bein' here, sweet girl, c'mon, let's just shove off. Better than chokin' on whatever this lot's wearin' - I mean, Christ Alive, smells like a bloody Bloomingdales, don't it?"

You smiled prettily in case of watchful eyes, telling him sternly in a sweet tone, "Lovie, I told you, my boss said we were needed for at least cocktail hour. We can leave before dinner, okay?"

"This is gonna last fuckin' hours, princess, c'mon, we should just go," he grumbled. "Fuck these people and these bullshit fundraisers."

"We'll be okay, I promise," you soothed sweetly, the honest opposite of Tangerine - leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You were constantly touching one another and early in your relationship, you realized how much you loved kissing him and completely forewent lipsticks or glosses because of it. Another peck and you told him in a soft tone, "C'mon, just remember we said we'd pick up Changs on our way home and there's that bottle of nice Merlot A - I mean, Lemon gave us," you almost used your boyfriend's brother's real name, but caught yourself with plenty of time.

"Hmm," he smirked, his favorite takeout place being a happy distraction. "Cheat day sounds nice, yeah, but still don't make this go any faster, now does it?"

"No, but we're not gonna be here forever," you soothed, turning into his chest to pet the expensive material of this navy three-piece suit. "You look so handsome, my love. Really love seein' you in navy suits, and the white button up looks really clean with it." Tangerine smiled down at you, the bustle around you melting away as he could only hear, see, smell, feel, and focus on you. Then, you spoke coyly as you fixed his tie, "If you behave the rest of the night, I promise I'll make it up t'you. Yeah? Maybe wear that li'l white thing you love?" He perked up, but before he could respond, you ended, "Or maybe I already have it on - anyways, so, listen t'me, I have to go talk t'some people and do the job that pays me, so I suggest you just take a deep breath; get another drink, find Lemon, and then we'll go soon, okay?"

He looked around the usual investors his private employer had to shmooze for donated funding and frowned when he was acutely aware of not just the sheer number, but how many "important" people attended the evening's gala. The Black Market was funded by multiple someones; most of whom were in this very room and while under the radar, it still made Tangerine feel as if a huge target was painted on the building's wall. There was always a need for services outside the law and these richie-riches couldn't take the money with them to the grave, so, they donated money if it meant they were "well taken care of".

The Twins' handler insisted they attend the gala tonight; being well aware that they were more like show ponies for being on display for investors to see. Putting a face to names made myth into reality, and your boyfriend was a hot commodity due to his skill as a contract killer. He and his brother were legends around the various active agencies, investors happy to see their money going to good use; all wanting to know what they had bought for a price-tag of several billion.

The common conversation of the evening was how readily available The Organization was able to offer their services with no questions asked, no matter what. Tan hated these events, feeling nauseated, overstimulated, overwhelmed; overall, exploited by his employer as attendees gossiped about the Bolivia Job, the Kyoto Crash, the Libyan Disaster, and a few other memorable jobs Tan and Lemon were involved in. Their beady little eyes followed him around, mouths hidden behind crystal flutes of champagne, and bodies always shied away from him as if he were a wild beast.

Sure, they pay to sit and gather in the arena, but flee when the raging bull they've helped antagonize gets loose.

Then you came along and took on the brunt end of these social events. Tan was never quite sure how you got involved in this life, you always giving a new answer, but knew you had gone to university for multiple degrees - one being in something called "communications". Now, if you had asked Tan a few years ago, he'd've said that was a bullshit job, bullshit degree, a total waste of time. Now that his popularity had grown and he was exposed to more social obligations, he was was beyond grateful to have someone navigate this with him. Tangerine's bad attitude most of the time was just a deflection, being why you and Lemon could handle him; knowing the lad's anxiety often choked him past logic and made him a sarcastic, violent cunt.

When Tangerine forced himself back to reality after glaring at the other warm bodies mingling around, Tangerine's arm contracted tight enough that he could bring you in for a quick kiss. Quietly, he muttered in your ear, "I'll give you half an hour, darling, no more."

"No less," your eyes rolled but your lips were spread in a grin. He chuckled and softened his expression; whoever might've been watching feeling something akin to shock and awe (like one felt when they saw a lion in person for the first time), knowing Tangerine was a horribly stoic, violent, and short-tempered man. To see him now, amused and soft with such a beauty of a woman - well, it was jarring. He was still known to be an asshole, but it seemed you had a stronger leash on Tangerine than his handler ever did. But perhaps, no stronger than Lemon.

"Right," Tan sighed. "What was first on your list fa' me t'do?"

"You're gonna take a deep breath, get another drink, and then find Lemon," you repeated softly, "but I'm gonna say you owe me a kiss before that drink."

Tan huffed.

"That wasn't a deep breath, Tan, c'mon, we've been over this," you mock glared, feeling both his hands secure to your hips. He pet the expensive silk you wore with his thumbs, the pocket square resting over his heart a tailored square of the same material.

"Sweetheart - "

"In through your nose, out through your mouth, Tan," you cut him off. "Together, I'll do it with you, c'mon. In..."

Tangerine adjusted his stance in those shining Italian leather shoes you gifted him for Christmas that year. He took a steady breath in through his nose when you did, watching for your subtle nod, then exhaling slowly through his mouth - when you did. Again, together, in through the nose, your nod after about seven seconds, then exhaled through the mouth. After one more, you smiled at him in encouragement, both hands splayed on his lapels; his own moving so they coiled around you.

"All right," he grumbled, "yeah, it helps, pretty girl."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Feel better?"

"Don't push it, plum," he mumbled, bringing you in closer so he could kiss the hinge of your jaw, just below your ear while stroking your spine with his fingertips. "Thank you," he whispered, mustache tickling your skin, "always know how t'get me out me head, don't'cha?"

"I try, but you don't always make it easy, you know?" You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth to smother your grin, leaning into his chest. "Kiss me, please, then go get a drink and find Lemon. Don't talk to the investors," you warned, adding, "please."

This made a mischievous smirk spread across his lips, "Awe, hey, c'mon, aren't they here t'see me? I can say hello. You won't even 'ave'ta introduce me, they'll know me."

"Okay, yes, they're here t'see the lot of yah, but they're not here to get yelled at, yeah? Or called cunts? Insulted in any manner?" You sang in a light tone; caressing his cheek to guide him to your lips for a long desired kiss. The hand on his cheek curled around to grip the back of his neck, gently tugging the neat strands of hair as you tried to convey your pride.

Social anxiety was a bitch and though he'd deny it vehemently, Tan was riddled with it. Seeing him endure this evening (despite the constant complaining) was a mighty feat, wanting your kiss to spark something in his gut that would cause his confidence to soar so it'd put a bit of "pep in his step" to get through the rest of the evening.

And boy, did it.

After parting ways, Tangerine was left to get his drink with a full-chub that made him shake both legs out in an attempt to hide his arousal. Yet as he watched you melt seamlessly into the crowd, he couldn't get the picture out of his mind that maybe you were wearing that white thing he liked. Tan leaned on the bar top, cock stirring to life with each passing second; watching you mingle and mix and shmooze investors and wanting nothing more than to interrupt and get you alone. With his drink, he located Lemon, trying to forget the way his cock was begging for attention while you worked your magic on these walking-talking-money-bags.

"All right, bruv?" Lemon asked, the two standing with a few other agents that were wrangled in for the event.

"Hmm?"

Lemon glared, then snickered to himself. "Oh, fuck me, mate, you're fucked, aren't you?"

"Come off it," Tan took another slug from the expensive whiskey glass. "'S only me second."

Lemon blinked in shock, "That's not possible. You hate these fancy things, you don't like bein' sober at'em."

"I've been distracted."

"No shit, 'cause your lady's here, gotta be on your best behavior, don't yah?" Lemon snickered, sighing as he shook his head and accepted the champagne being passed around by a waiter with a full tray. "But enough that you ain't been drinkin'? Yeah, right - oh, shit, wait," he beamed, "didn't Y/N get that administrative promotion? It's that, ain't it? Ho-ho!" He laughed, "Yeah? Don't tell me you've been her arm candy all night, mate?"

"We've been tucked away, actually," Tan admitted, missing the way Lemon blinked in shock 'cause he was searching for you in the deepening crowd. "She knows I don't like these things, right, so, we stood away from 'em all, ova there," he pointed off to where Lemon knew was roped off for VIPs. "We were just talkin', laughin'. She makes these shitty li'l jokes, you know? Kept us more entertained than the rest of these fucks," Tangerine chuckled, hand hiding his grin of amusement as he wiped around his mouth to play it off.

This made Lemon nod with impression, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, but," Tan sniffled, "duty calls, she's gotta work a bit, get some donations goin'. Apparently, I'm not allowed t'talk t'the fancy donors."

Lemon checked his watch, "Fair enough, you did punch that Sultan - "

"Oh, come the fuck off it, that was three years ago! He was fine."

"You broke his nose, mate. You want another?"

Tangerine skulled the last of his drink, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm good, mate. Might be time t'go soon."

"I'll leave when you two do, wouldn't wanna be stuck here alone," Lemon agreed, the two turning away to stand at a cocktail table together and away from the others. "This is why we don't work inna office, this lot - Jesus, fuck. Oh, shit, oi, mate, you seen who all's here tonight? Fuck's sake..."

"Yeah, mate, I've seen 'em all, but there's too many t'know who the fuck you mean specifically." He pulled his phone out as Lemon rumbled on in excited impression about the evening's guests to send you a quick text,

wrap it up, pretty girl. i got things i wanna do to you that ain't for others to see unless they pay.

He could see you from where he and Lemon stood; and when your phone chimed, you checked it almost instantly, smiling at the message. He waited for your rapid reply,

if my panties had a crotch, they'd be soaked. love you in blue 💙

That was enough for Tangerine, who nodded at his brother, "Gimme a minute, yeah? Gonna pop off t'the loo before we go. Have another," he pointed to the drink in Lemon's hand as he backed away, "but not that frilly shit, mate, have a real fuckin' drink. Oi!" He snapped his fingers at a passing waitress, "Sorry, sweetheart, yeah, my bruva, there," he pointed at Lemon, who waved awkwardly, "will take a double whiskey, on the rocks, yeah, and he likes them lemon twists. That somethin' you can grab for him, love?"

"Absolutely," she nodded, high-strung ponytail swishing.

Tangerine snickered lightly, shelling out a hefty tip that she accepted, "And bring him a Lemon Drop shot, too, please."

"Anything else, sir?"

"Ah, if you'd like, maybe your number for him, too?" Tan instigated, hearing Lemon groan and grumble in embarrassment. "My bruva, there, he's bloody golden, yeah? Can't do no better, man just has no flaws - less we count tha' he's a wee bit shy, innit? Pretty ladies intimidate him a bit, but he's the bravest man I fuckin' know. Just gotta warm 'im up a bit, don't'cha know?"

"He sounds like a real gentleman. But maybe I can give mine if you give your number to my friend?" The waitress countered, pointing towards the central bar that the servers operated out of. There was a decently pretty girl with dark hair, twiddling her fingers at them with a pearly grin. "She's sweet, kind, absolutely wild in bed - "

"Sounds like an even deal, sweets, but you see - I've got a woman, yeah? And my lady? Well, she's kinda one of your bosses tonight, so, uh, might not be a good idea now, would it? She gets all territorial, protective, likes what's hers t'be just hers - ain't real big on sharin'." The waitress flushed in embarrassment. "But my bruva, here," Tan pointed back at Lemon while unlocking his phone, "he's a fuckin' don, yeah? Ain't nobody gonna treat cha' t'a better night. Oi, hey, I'll be back, bruv," he called to Lem with a smirk, then reminded the waitress, "double whiskey, lemon twist, on the rocks. And that Lemon Drop, please."

"Of course, sir, right on it," she agreed, Tangerine finally backing away fully. He typed you a new message,

meet me in the bathroom right now

Inside, it was decently spacious; unisex, six stalls, made of pristine marble, veiled fluorescent lighting, and there was a lock on the door - which Tan cared most about.

He planted himself behind the two other men at the walled-off urinals, hands clasping together in front of him. "Right, then, you two," he gestured between them, "got 'bout 30 seconds to finish yourselves and get the fuck outta here." He pulled the usual gun from his waistband, threatening, "Or I'll give you fuckin' fucks a show 'bout all them stories you love whisperin' 'bout. Yeah? How's that? Hey? Thirty! Twenty-nine! Twenty-eight!"

They were barely zipped up and gone by the time Tangerine got to second 21; you entering right as the two were scurrying for the swinging-open door. You yelped a little, jumping out of their way, offering Tangerine a strange look and musing, "Uh, what was that? You fightin' in the privy, again?"

He put his handgun away as he stalked towards you, "Just makin' sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Tan, hell no, there's so many people!"

He yanked you from the doorway, making sure it was shut before locking it loudly. "Then we gotta be quick, don't we? C'mon, doll, real fast, bosses won't even question you bein' gone."

"I still have work - "

"Nah, nah," he pawed your gown's skirts upward, "you been teasin' me all fuckin' night, lookin' too fuckin' good - I can't wait, baby. Just look so Goddamn pretty, feels like I'm losin' my mind. Lemme see yah," he got the silk bunched around your waist, gasping loudly when he saw your panties. "You really did wear 'em... Like the good girl you are," he purred, one hand dropping the silk to run his hand over the strappy and lacy material you wore. "Swear I'll take my time with yah at home, the way I want - but can't do that here, just needa be inside yah, sugar, c'mere."

"Baby," you gasped when his fingertips ghosted around your cunt that was bare due to the crotchless cutout. "I only need a-a-a," you trailed off, panting when one finger suddenly plunged into your cunt, "ohhh, shiiiit. Yes, baby, oh, God!"

"Keep talkin'," He smirked, backing you up towards the marble counter. "C'mon, tell me off. Tell me what's more important right now, huh? More important than this? Is it work? Huh? Work got you distracted? Wanna get back t'it instead of bein' here with me?" The heels of your palms slammed into the pristine counter, whimpering when he pumped erratically. "Aht, here you go," he smirked, pausing to pull his hand free of your warmth; seizing your waist and helping hoist you back onto the sink's ledge. Your lips meshed sloppily with his, Tan letting you dominate the kiss because you were mewling - so desperate for him, you were nearly suckling on him; hands trembling as they held his cheeks with your manicured fingertips. When your legs instantly spread to accommodate Tangerine's hulking form, grinding your hips into him, he seethed, "Good girl," before sinking his digit back into your wet heat that halted your ministrations out of pure relieving pleasure.

"You're a menace," you panted against his mouth when you remembered reality, Tangerine's belt rattling open and his zipper teeth shrieking when you shucked them open. "Gimme," you whispered, reaching for him; dropping his pants the rest of the way to take his pulsing cock in hand. "This what you wanted? Right? Why you texted me? Interrupted me?"

"Exactly," he licked his lips before smashing them to yours in a suffocating kiss, always the one to help you push boundaries and do things you never thought you'd ever do if not for him. "Why're you so wet? Huh? Why's that? Had this on your mind, too, didn't'cha, dirty girl? Why else would you wear my favorite?"

"'T reward you for tonight," you panted, giving his cock a few pumps. "'S my scene, not yours, just so fucking proud of yah - for how you did, gettin' through it," you guided him to your weeping entrance after pushing his hand from you, both gasping when his cockhead notched on the lip of your cunt. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted, praising him as he sunk his hips into your own; effectively blurring your mind.

He grunted, needing a single moment to press his balls between you two as he waited for you to accommodate to his size. Forehead to forehead, your eyes remained shut; breathing the same air, feeling your insides fluttering at the size of him. His mouth was at your ear, demanding, "Tell me again, pretty girl."

You knew what he wanted, letting your legs spread a little wider and held onto his shoulders since this position didn't allow for much else. You whimpered, "You did so good tonight, baby. Oh, fuck, I'm so proud of you - you did so fuckin' good." He groaned and retracted his hips, beginning a brutal pace and messy rhythm to pump himself in deep strokes. You had to hold onto his upper arms now to allow him space to move. "Always so good for me, but tonight? Fuck - you're so good, Aaron. So fucking good - and tonight you were fucking amazing. I'm so proud, so fucking proud of you," you whimpered, his hands holding your hips so the counter could pose as leverage to allow him the angle to pound up into you while shifting you down on him.

"Almost there, baby," he begged, eyes all over. He loved the sight of your 'panties' still on; the criss-crossing of the straps and pattern of the lace still in place while his cock made a mess of you. Your gown glittered in this light, your skin tacky with a thin layer of sweat from your arousal that made him dip low and lick a bold stripe between your breasts. "Lemme see - lemme get a taste, doll, want you in my mouth," he muttered against your cleavage, still holding you on his cock as you pulled a tit free. You gave a shrill yelp when Tangerine surged forward suddenly and bit harshly on your budding, sensitive nipple; but it was in-sync with him changing the pace of his thrusting to something borderline painful.

It wasn't a secret he was well-endowed, there wasn't much to the imagination with the way his suits are tailored.

But having ten(plus) inches; fully swollen, engorged, jackhammering into you at this angle? It wasn't the most pleasurable at first, but with Tan licking, nipping, and sucking at both nipples now, you endured until moaning authentically. You were all but hanging off the counter by now, Tan the only reason you weren't on the floor; using upper body strength to hold onto him while slithering a hand toy your stomach to toy with your enlarged clit.

It took very little time of harsh pressure from your fingers to come undone, pleasure mounting to a crescendo before shattering your grip to reality. With a gasp, your hips humped into Tan's by your own blinding vocation; arms tight around his shoulders to remain upright as you milked yourself.

The contraction of your cunt was all Tangerine needed, and four slaps of his balls later had him doubling over and pinning you in a small slam, chest-to-chest, to the marble.

"Oh, my fuckin' God," you panted in appreciation.

"Shit," he realized, "shit, fuck, did I hurt you? Fuck - baby - "

"I'm not hurt," you panted, keeping a tight hold to refuse him from standing up, "just happy."

He deflated with a small chuckle. In your neck, he mumbled, "I can't feel my legs."

"Wanna sit?"

"Nah, not here," he mused, licking the sweaty skin of your pulse point. "Just had t'wear the li'l white ones, didn't'cha?"

"You get all worked up when I do."

"With good reason, should see yourself the way that I do - Goddamn, doll. My girl's divine, too good for these fuckers out here."

You were about to retort, but there was a loud, rapid banging at the locked door. "Hey! Hey! Whoever's in there! There's people that need in, you fucking arseholes! Get your dick wet at your own place, you broke bitches!"

You gasped and slapped a hand over your mouth as Tangerine finally stood off you, keeping you balanced on the counter as you sat up. "Oh, my fucking God, Tan! I-I-I-I'm gonna get fired! Oh, holy shit! This isn't happening!"

"No - "

"Aaron, we were literally just caught - "

"Hey, hey, just breathe," he paused, sighing as he caressed your cheek. "Let me handle this for us, okay? The way you protect me, let me protect you. Yeah?"

You nodded mutely, looking ready to burst into tears. After Tan pulled out and helped you clean up (ignoring the warm cum that dripped down your inner thighs), he simply wrapped you in his navy suit jacket, rolled up his crisp white sleeves, and pulled out his handgun. "Oh, baby, don't - "

"Trust me," he purred, arm secure around your waist. "Oh... Shit, hang on," he set the gun down to use his hands and fix your hair, your heart soaring by the sweet, domestic gesture. "I got'cha, pretty girl, one sec - there we go, yeah," he smirked, looking proud of himself. "Yeah, all right, there we go," he cupped your cheeks, "all perfect."

"Thank you," you whispered.

"Now, we're gonna walk out with confidence. Just don't stop, don't look at anyone. Actually, look a li'l smug," he instructed. "And we're just gonna grab Lemon and get outta here, yeah?"

You pouted lightly, "After I get the O-K from my boss."

"Nah, we don't ask permission, just forgiveness."

"Terrible philosophy."

"I prefer effective. Ready?" He asked, picking his gun up again. You nodded, latching onto him as his arm secured around you again, then approached the door. He unlocked it loudly and yanked it open, glare instantly taking over his expression as you were met with a gaggle of angry, grumbling patrons. "We got a fuckin' problem?" Tangerine sneered, his gun winking in the dim lighting; those who were waiting instantly backing off.

You did as he advised: didn't look at anyone, didn't stop, looked a little smug. He lead you through the throng of people, hearing a woman sneer under her breath - gasping when Tan turned his gun on her. "Tangerine!" You snapped, the people around you all freezing.

"Got somethin' t'say?" He taunted the woman, who shook her head. "No? You sure? Now?" He asked, shifting the weapon over to her date's forehead. She shook her head again. This made Tan smirk, "Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, love. Keep your fuckin' mouth shut."

"Let's go, now," you insisted, tugging on his unbuttoned waistcoat to walk away together. "Can't shoot everyone who offers insult."

"No, but word will spread," he smirked. "Ain't nobody gonna say a fuckin' word to yah now. And if they do," he shrugged, "you'll tell me. All right, now, uh," he paused you both, nodding ahead, "that's a bit of my doin'. Question is, do we interrupt?"

You peered around a person or two until Lemon and a pretty waitress was in sight. She was giggling and grinning, the two deep in conversation; just enraptured and toying with each other's hands.

"We should probably let him know we're leaving. Maybe text him?"

"So, we are leaving, huh?" Tan smirked. "No more precious work to go run off to?"

Your lips moved beside his ear, licking the shell before speaking so your cool breath fanned over the wet skin, "I can't work with your cum leakin'."

His hand groped your arse cheek tightly, "If you do, I promise t'make yah my li'l Twinkie, huh? Fuck you all night, like you deserve."

"Oh, now you wanna stay? You fuckin' serious?"

"Yeah, but, now it's a game."

"You're a fucking menace!"

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist