#I don't think we can take four of these hot ladies

[the-blossica-fan]

Actors AU ^-^

When it comes to Bessmert, Marta and Doctor Dores, you could either say they're the same person and just with a long name... or, the funny idea, in which they're all identical triplets 😭 (quadruplets counting Urð 😭)

Dores: Gertrude, what does these texts say? I, ah...

Gertrude, looking over: ...They're fans of you and your sisters. Very big fans. They mention you have nice lips.

Dores: Oh! Well, aren't they sweet ^-^

What's your thoughts? ^-^

I'd say it's just one woman doing everything, and as for her name, it would be funny if they just chose a name and last name for each character, something like: Martha Urd Dores Bessmert. Two names, two last names.

But the idea of quadruplets is so funny 😭

So then, one of them had Vertin, Vert, Mercuria and adopted Yenisei and the others are just divorced aunts with no kids. One has no kids and a divorce pending, the other isn't even married yet and the last one is single to this day.

I still believe it would just be one woman. Bessmert can't catch a break from acting, she appears left and right and haunts the main story, meanwhile backstage she's just a married woman who loves burgers.

And well, did you see that woman? She's to die for. We can't take one we won't be able to take FOUR of these women.

Vert: Most people as if Mom's single, it's starting to get on my nerves.

Regulus: Yo, Vert. Is your mother single? 'cause that woman's so hot!

Vert: ...Regulus I swear to God--

She would get along with Balloon Party as well, she probably has a side job as a college teacher and gave Gertrude a couple classes when she studied for her PhD. Bessmert's a good teacher, I don't doubt her.

[munsster]

road trip (trope bingo)

A/N: thought i might try this format out. also introducing a new face to my tumblr repertoire. i’ve written marvel before, just never on this site. enjoy!! (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You think Bucky is shallow for rejecting a pretty stranger in North Dakota. Little do you know. 1.6k words

Warnings: fluff, dummies not talking about their feelings, pet names (doll), slight angst but resolved, perhaps mutual pinging, a really good hug, playful bullying, cursing

"Ooh, she's cute."

You've been doing this for over an hour. He's downed at least four coffees by now. And the worst part is you call it finding a suitable mate. But he's just not interested in the women you're scouting for him at a rest stop a few miles out from Fargo, North Dakota. He would've just left, gone and sat in the truck, but he'd feel bad leaving you rambling to yourself when you're the one paying for this meal.

"Come on, Buck, you're no fun," you huff, dropping your spoon into the thick mug now emptied of hot cocoa.

"You're right. Can we go now?" He starts to slide out of his seat when you scoff. He goes still like a deer in headlights. This should be fun.

"James Buchanan, you're telling me none of the lovely ladies in this diner tickle your fancy? Not even third barstool? She's tall, Buck, like... model tall," you suggest with your brows raised.

"I'm not... we're in North Dakota, you think that's what I'm lookin' for?"

"Just one date! You wouldn't take her on one, single date? The little bar across the street seems sensible, why not?"

"Um—"

"Tell meee," you whine, leaning over the sticky, vinyl tablecloth with a pout.

He shrugs. "Not my type."

"Bullshit. She's everybody's type. She's my type, Bucky. Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

"I'm not interested."

You pull a face like you're offended on her behalf. Bucky rolls his eyes and wishes you'd drop it.

"Oh, I get it," you say. Leaned back, arms stretched across the length of the seat, you huff and glare at him. "You think you're too good for her, huh? Just 'cause she's a North Dakota ten, and you're a Brooklyn eight, you think that makes you better, don't you?"

"What? An eight?" he mumbles, shaking his head.

"Ugh, you men gross me out sometimes. Massive egos, teensy little brains," you say, slapping a twenty on the table and standing with a vicious squint. "Well, let me learn you something, James"—you loom over him and poke your pointer finger at his chest—"you're shallow, and you're no better than her. You prob'ly couldn't take her out if you wanted to. Goodnight."

You huff and walk away, but he chuckles and calls after you: "It's noon, doll." Flipping him off, you march out into the parking lot. He considers the woman for a moment. You called him a Brooklyn eight. She's pretty, he'll admit, but he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't interested. Bucky's seen the far stretches of the Earth, which means he's seen women of all forms. Accountants and soldiers from all over, all professions, all languages. All beautiful. But nothing intrigues him quite as much as you do.

...

"Did you ask her out, or are you choosing to remain a coward?" You've got your boots propped on the dashboard, the truck bumbling eighty down the highway. An emery board swipes back and forth at your middle fingernail as you snap your bubblegum.

"Come on, doll, play nice. We're leavin' anyway, didn't want to hurt her feelings," he grumbles.

"Tough. Doesn't make you any less of a pussy, Barnes."

You flick the nail file at his cheek and drop your feet heavily on the hot car mat. You called him a Brooklyn eight. You cringe at the remembrance while Bucky revels in it. He even grinned stupid all the way back to the parking lot. To himself, but still. He hates how deep under his skin you are. He hates how he likes the itch.

His tongue twists with all the things he could have said. He should have said. But he grips the steering wheel tight and drives till you cross the border into Minnesota.

"Wanna go anywhere before Wisconsin? They've got... lakes here," he shyly suggests, voice soft, hoping you'll just ignore him and turn up the radio. He doesn't think you'll ever ignore him, even if he did prefer it.

"Only if I could push you into one of them."

"Listen, kid—"

"Kid? That's great, Bucky. It's getting dark, why don't we just find a motel." You cross your arms. The cold is getting to you. Even in a down jacket and two pairs of pants. It gets like that up north.

He does what you tell him because the last thing he needs is for you to hold another grudge against him. This one's quaint, so he gets the last double available, chuckling nervously when the older woman at the front desk mistakes you for a married couple.

"Sure you don't want a single, honey? Not gettin' any kids outta separate beds—"

"Nope—thanks, miss—that's—double is fine, double's perfect, thanks," he huffs. You chuckle.

She gives a rolling, belly laugh, head tossed back as she croaks, "Won't file any noise complaints against youse! Have a fun night."

"Geez, she was great," you sigh, still smiling from the ridiculous interaction. You flop face down onto the bed closest to the window, rattling the ice from the crevices in your boots. It crunches to the floor and you wriggle out of your coat as Bucky locks himself into the pale yellow bathroom.

He starts mumbling from the other side of the door, so you sit up and toe your boots onto the floor with a thud. Digging your fingertips into the edge of the hastily tucked sheets, you stare at a wine stain in the middle of the beige carpet. At least it smells nice in here. Even if half the lights are out, and cable doesn't come through clear enough to watch.

You find yourself, cheek pressed to the door, eyes wide as you listen through the flimsy wood.

"I don't think so, Steve. No, listen, it's like... beyond repair. She wouldn't take an apology even if I knew what i was sorry for—no—she's way too good for me, I can't do that to her."

Still moping over women found in North Dakota's lowest rated diners? That's highly unlike him. But even Bucky's a wildcard six-thousand miles into a roadtrip. You press closer, chewing your lip and closing your eyes.

"No, no, everything—this stuff's easier for you, pal, you don't get it, 'kay? I'm just saying... I mean, even a stranger thought we were married"—What—"has to mean something, right? Even strangers are realizing... there's something... there. I just don't want to accidentally—no, I know, not like that, I mean...well, I like her a lot and I don't want it to scare her—"

You back up slightly, hands held in front of you like surrender. Not out of fear, but realization. That's why he didn't ask her out. Or even fish for her number. Because—

You hit the floor with a thump.

"Steve. I gotta go."

The door whips open and floods the room with warm light. You scramble to your feet.

"Were you... I was just talking to... Did you hear any of that?"

You shake your head. He shoves his hands into the shallow pockets of his jeans.

"Okay," he says with a nod, "good." He blows hot air out of his mouth and runs a swift hand through his hair. But he doesn't meet your eyes. Like a little kid so terrified of fibbing that he'd rather swim deeper into the abyss than float to the surface. Can't catch his damn breath around here.

"So..."

"Goodnight, Bucky!" you chirp, turning on your heel with a whoosh of air. And he stops you in your tracks, hand on your bicep. You don't turn back around, stuck staring at the foot of your bed.

"Doll," he whispers, roped up by fear and a pinch of self-pity. Attending his own funeral with a sick smile on his face. "Just how much did you hear."

You spin on the balls of your feet, going hot in the face, fueled by the electricity at his fingertips. "A lot."

"Oh."

You nod and try your best non-psychotic smile. "Sorry."

"No, no... don't be," he says, trying his own. So you're just a couple of smirking idiots at a stalemate in a stale motel room. A couple of idiots with feelings for each other. Unresolved feelings. Unspoken, too.

"I actually—could I?" You point behind him into the cramped bathroom, and he lets go of you like it's his last move before you put him in check. Before he has to hand you the game. Though, he'd do that in a heartbeat. Every game of his is yours. "Thanks."

"No problem." He shuts his eyes when you close the door with a calculated tenderness. Like you don't want to frazzle his poor heart.

But then why would you open the door again? Why would you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back? Why would you make it all so much worse and spread your fingers over his abdomen, taking a deep breath when he runs his hand down your forearm and turns to face you. Then you melt with his strong arms holding you thisclose.

"Like you a lot, too, Barnes. You're just a big dunce a lot of the time. But that's like... half the draw or whatever," you mumble into his shoulder. And you've never been this close, and he thinks he could pass out. Become a chalk outline in a dusty motel in Minnesota. But if it happened like this, he'd be okay with that statistic.

marvel masterlist

[hazelsmirrorball]

And they were roommates | F1 Drivers

summary: y/n wanted to live in New York, so that's how she ended up living with three losers faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter pairings: oscar piastri x fem!reader, lando norris x fem! reader, Logan Sargent x fem!reader, franco colapinto x fem!reader

a/n: Excuse any errors english isn’t my main language. this is inspired by new girl

yourusername via instagram!

liked by logansargent, oscarpiastri and 138 others

yourusername can someone pick me up? I don't think I can live with them anymore

tagged: @logansargent @oscarpiastri @landonorris

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logansargent we look really hot with our shades on!! But why the hell are Oscar and Lando wearing ur bras?

yourgirlbestfriend omg!! I thought you were joking when you said they used trash cans as pools in ur balcony

-> yourusername nothing is a joke when it comes to them

landonorris shoes off the couch! I sleep there

-> yourusername boo you whore

francolapinto you look so cute :)

-> yourusername omg im blushing

-> logansargent she really is blushing btw

-> yourusername delete this!

-> landonorris @oscarpiastri are you seeing this? isn't this ur girl

-> yourusername stop cockblocking me

-> oscarpiastri We are just friends.

-> landonorris but you wish you were more

-> yourusername do you guys know that private message exist

-> landonorris but I want your whole 100 followers to see that Oscar has a crush on you

-> oscarpiastri I do not.

-> <-

Logan and Y/n stood in front of the tv as the Zumba routine played at full volume. The clock read 4:30 am as the pair tried following the middle aged woman in front of them. Logan skipped in a circle moving his dumbbells side to side. As Y/n hollered when the woman on the TV would ask if they were hype. Oscar, being tired from the night before he could hear the pair having the time of their lives with the zumba. He quickly slipped on some pants not bothering to put on a shirt while walking down the stairs rubbing the tiredness of his eyes. When Oscar finally got to the bottom of the stairs he quickly got flashed with Logan’s short shorts. 

“Oh, Oscar, are you joining us?” Logan said, turning to him as he placed the dumbbells down taking a sip from his water. Y/n also turned jogging in place smiling at Oscar. 

 “I thought you guys were doing that dancing class” Oscar said as he yawned looking at the pair thinking that the clothes they had on was a cause of his imagination and lack of sleep. 

“Yeah, dummy. What do you think we are doing? This is a dancing class. We are doing Zumba. Logan found a cheap disk at a thrift store and he also found these sick outfits so we are matching with the ladies on the tv” Y/n responded stretching her wrist warmers. 

“Yeah, we are getting ripped”

“I thought you guys meant you were going to the gym and that they were offering the class. It's four in the morning guys. That stupid song is driving me insane” Oscar said glaring at the pair as he leaned against the wall. Logan groaned, throwing his head back as Y/n raised an eyebrow at him. 

“You are certainly not invited to our pilates mom group” 

“Logan, you are not a mother. Neither of you are” 

“Well with all you bitching and moaning, I should be” 

Lando pushed open the apartment door after  having one to many drinks at the club he looked at Y/n and Logan and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Are you guys supposed to be John Travolta and Jaime Lee Curtis?”

-> <-

landonorris via instagram !

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 354 others

landonorris I just noticed that my whole camera roll is dedicated to my loser roommates. I need a life.

tagged: @logansargent @oscarpiastri @yourusername

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yourusername mom! I swear I don't drink

-> landonorris babe don't lie. those white claws are on ur side of the fridge

-> yourusername those white claws aren't mine, that's Logan side of the fridge

-> logansargent I hope none of you are touching my white claws

yourusername Oscar is such a nerd

-> oscarpiastri Hey! I have instagram.

-> logansargent surprisingly

-> <- Y/n pulled Franco Colapinto’s arm as she quietly tried to sneak him out of the apartment without waking her roommates up. Franco’s clothes hung loosely on her body as she shushed him for what felt like the one hundredth time. As they were almost near the exit, Lando turned on the light with a huge grin on his face.  

“Is this supposed to be his walk of shame?” 

“Lando shut up and go to be” Y/n replied through gritted teeth, as Franco stood in front of the door awkwardly. 

“I will not shut up. This is the first time you bring a guy home. Honestly I am so proud of you. I was worrying that I was the only one bringing people to the apartment. But now I don’t feel as bad.” Lando said walking up to them and wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders. 

“Lando, you literally bring two people daily. I think you should feel bad.” 

“No because, this is different. Wait until Osar finds out. Hold up, this means you are not a virgin anymore. Oh my God my kids are growing up.” 

“Lando, I wasn’t a virgin” 

“That’s what I am saying, Did he..Oh God. Oscar! Oscar, come here” 

The three of you guys stare at each other in silence while oscar quickly walks into the kitchen looking at the trio. He looked Franco up and down, quickly turning to Lando 

“What” 

“Did you know, Y/n isn’t a virgin anymore?” 

“I know”

“You know?!” 

“Who did you took it?”

-> <-

yourusername via insta stories! landonorris via insta stories!

-> <-

The four of roommates sat on the couch quietly scrolling on their phones. They have been like that for like for an hour. The peaceful silence had broke when Lando gasped loudly.

“You guys remember that we agreed on doing a group costume”  

“No one agreed to do a group costume” 

“No, you guys did!”

“You said, we should do a group costume for Charles halloween party and we didn’t answer” 

“Anyways, as I was saying, I saw a tik tok of some roommates that dressed as the main south park characters and that would be perfect for us. Logan can be Kyle, Y/n can be Stan, OScar can be Catman and I can be Kenny” Logan said while showing them the tiktok on his phone. Y/n laughed and turned to Logan. 

“You being Kenny is insane” 

“Why?” 

“Oscar should be Kenny and you should be Cartman” Y/n responded as if it were obvious. 

“Stop defending your boyfriend. I don’t want to be Cartman”

“Lando. You are literally Cartman”

“ I am not! I already bought the costumes in our sizes so shut up”

“Wait, why did my card got charged” 

-> <-

oscarpiastri via instagram!

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oscarpiastri I am never saying yes for a 4th of July party.

tagged: @logansargent @oscarpiastri @yourusername

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yourusername who is that lady in the last picture, she is quite attractive

landonorris I look so good in this pic, what the fuck

logansargent oscars active era?

charlesleclerc I think I missed a chapter, what's up with that last picture

-> landonorris I don't even know what's going on, I thought the little guy that flirts was still in the picture

-> francolapinto i am taller than you

Francolapinto invite me next time

-> oscarpiastri No.

-> <-

“Damn it! Everyone to the bathroom right now!” Logan yelled, making everyone enter the small shared bathroom. Logan gripped on his towel showing it to the group. “Is someone playing a joke on me? Honestly, why is my towel still damp?”

“Because that’s not your towel, Logan. It’s my towel” Lando responded, pointing at the blue towel he was holding. Logan looked at Lando with fear. 

“No it’s not. Your towel is the red one. It always has been the red one” 

“I'll tell you this, pal. I've never used that. I do use that one every single day.”

“Oh, God.” Logan said, gagging. 

‘This towel's so warm and fluffy. It's like it's been in the sun forever.” Y/n said, touching the red towel. 

“This means you two have been drying your junk with the same towel.” Oscar commented, trying to escalate the situation. 

“Intimate.”

“Are you out of your mind?! What do you mean, am I... How do you think this is your towel? Do you even wash it?” Logan asked, trying to not get worked up, which he was failing miserably.  

“No, I don't wash the towel; the towel washes me. Who washes a towel?” Lando responded matter of factly while the others looked at him shocked. 

“You never wash?”

“You wash your towel?” 

“You never wash the towel?” 

“What am I going to do? Wash the shower next? Wash a bar of soap? You got to think here, pal.” Lando said, rolling his eyes. 

“I'm furious right now.” 

“ I get out of the damn shower, I'm clean as a damn baby, and I use the towel.”

“Let me ask you this. Have you been wearing my underpants” Logan asked as his eye twitch. 

“Sometimes, yeah. Who cares? You guys don't wear each other's underpants? You're lying. We all wear each other's underwear.”

-> <-

logansargent via instagram!

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 900 others

logansargent loving my roommates (excluding the little one)

tagged: @yourusername @oscarpiastri @landonorris

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landonorris the little one?! y/n is the little one. I am taller than her

-> yourusername oh shut up short king

-> logansargent take away the king

-> yourusername short

-> logansargent short

-> carlosainz short

-> oscarpiastri short

-> alexalbon short

-> georgerussell short

-> francolapinto short

oscarpiastri you are so American, im scared

-> <-

“I want to see who got podium!” Oscar said through his headset grinning, while lando scoffed. 

“I obviously got podium, did you not see my hard work out there? I for certain won” Lando replied hitting the table in front of him. As the screen went black. 

They all had been like that for the past two hours and none of them had gotten podium. So they had come up with a group strategy for at least one of them to come on top. When the screens comes back up lando yells angrily while Logan groans. 

“You guys didn’t give me five starts!” 

“Come on, Lando! We can’t  all be on the podium” Y/n replied from her room through the headset.

“You are such and ass. My outfit was better than your. Fuck! The theme was Main Character, you did a basic outfit, while I actually played the game correctly and did Sharpay Evans. It pisses me off that I lost. Like this game is dress to impress. Not dress to be mediocre. I am done”

logansargent via insta stories! oscarpiastri via insta stories!

-> <-

yourusername via instagram!

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yourusername apartment 512 got a doggy!

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charlesleclerc now our doggies can have a doggy date

-> landonorris I don't want my dog near your dog, leclerc

logansargent why did we also get pictures of you and Oscar? what happen to that handsome guy

landonorris if you guys are together don't you dare break up because we have a lease together, thanks x

alexalbon since when is Oscar this happy

oscarpiastri via instagram!

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oscarpiastri my favorite roommate

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landonorris I didn't get a post for my birthday

logansargent I think we are out of the loop what is happening

alexalbon Oscar is in his active era. I am afraid

yourusername love you, Osc.

logansargent you guys can't leave me alone with lando if you move out!

[holybibly]

Bunnies, are you ready?

These are the unholy thoughts of the day: hot cowboys with a lactation kink and a strong oral fixation who find it difficult to keep their hands to themselves when they meet a pretty busty waitress in a saloon who works part-time as a breastfeeding nanny during the day.

Your town wasn't big, but it was certainly a picturesque place to relax, so when rumours spread through the bustling streets and saloons about four damn good-looking cowboys from the big city, you didn't pay much attention. Cowboys often came to your town to take a break from the hustle and bustle. For you, they were just extra income as hot, horny things dropped fabulous amounts of money in your saloon to drink and entertain.

Especially as you've been so busy lately with your part-time job as a breastfeeding nanny that all you can think about is how much your breasts ache from all that milk and how much you want to milk yourself to relieve their heavy weight and plumpness.

When a noisy, chaotic crowd poured into your saloon this evening, it took your table, and you didn't expect much. Just another customer on another night, but God, how wrong you were, especially when the blue-haired cowboy, whose name you later learned was Hongjoong, wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you onto his lap, playfully running his fingers into your deep cleavage.

"Sweet lady, will you join us today, hm?" He purred in your ear, pulling down the hem of your blouse slightly, exposing your plump, milky tits even more to the gaze of his friends.

"I don't think so." You slapped his arm, freeing yourself from his grip. The cocky cowboy grinned, letting you go easily but not losing sight of the wet stains on your blouse, and the other guy at once commented that.

"Pretty lady, is breast-feeding? Or is there a milkshake on the menu?" His cat-like eyes narrow and focus on your cleavage as his tongue runs along his bottom lip, leaving a wet, glistening mark.

"Lord, San, don't be so shameless; you can't say such things." Another guy, with long hair and scarlet lips, rebuked him. And you were about to thank him, but his next sentence made you abandon that idea completely. "I wouldn't mind tasting that milk, though. I bet the taste is simply divine."

"Hmm..." The last guy sitting in the corner of the booth hummed. "Are you free, doll, or is someone already milking your pretty tits?"

"Assholes," you hissed, adjusting your corset. The tension of the fabric on your sensitive nipples only made you leak more milk. You sighed heavily, wanting to get away from the brazen, shameless cowboys whose eyes were now literally devouring you.

"Oh, don't be angry, beautiful." The blue-haired guy laughed and leaned back against the soft wall of the booth. "I'm Hongjoong; this is Seonghwa." He pointed at a guy with long hair. "San, but you've heard his name before. And this is Mingi." He pointed to a tall guy in the corner of the booth. "We're new here, and you're so gorgeous; can you blame us for being interested? But still, do you have someone, or should we try our luck?"

You roll your eyes in annoyance and look from one guy to the other until your eyes meet Hongjoong's.

"You're not my type, stud. So calm down, place your order, or get out of here. You know, there are a lot of other people who would like to be in your place.".

"The only place I want to be right now is..." San didn't get to finish because Seonghwa covered his mouth with his hand, but he didn't have to finish for you to understand what he meant.

"Don't pay any attention to him, doll. San is a very straightforward guy, but he's harmless." Mingi said, leaning towards you, only to wrap his arm around your hips and pull you towards him. "You know what they say, doll, safe the horse, ride the cowboy. Want to try?"

"Isn't someone falling for that?" You ask, squirming in Mingi's arms.

"Usually it works, yes." Seonghwa notices and reaches out to you, cupping your chin with his fingers and forcing you to look into his eyes. "I hope you can ride horses well, because we're going to give you a real wild rodeo, little flower."

[noctivagant-corvid]

yet another pd dash simulator (pt one pt two pt four pt five)

🎮 wheezerunofficial Follow INSULIN IS 40 DOLLARS! YOU COULD HAVE JUST TOLD ME TO KILL MYSELF.

🎮 wheezerunofficial Follow please buy commisions so i can afford my insulin!!!!

🎱 flamefestonsixthst Follow this is incredibly fucking depressing. FUCK belltech and FUCK anyone who tolerates them. buisnesses aren't people, they're demons.

🫀livingonasin Follow also they have human experimentation allegations against them!!!

🎮 wheezerunofficial Follow I BEG YOUR PARDON????????????

2,761 notes

🪶 ASHES2ASHES Follow stream at 6 pm cst, playing resident evil. stream sponsored by trix !!

34,512 notes

🤺 tearfulatthefalling Follow hey do you all remember the ghost emo who haunts my college and his purple haired boyfriend. well the boyfriend has been lighting candles without a lighter and either is really good at getting his roots done on time or has naturally purple hair. so. what else is new

🍋 forscoreandsixyearsago Follow this is the deadwood of college dorms.

167 notes

🌳 terabitchia Follow 5k notes by the end of the month and i'll ask the really hot roller derby lady who takes the same train as me on a date. spam allowed .

🌳 terabitchia Follow we reached the goal in two weeks! i hate all of you.

🌳 terabitchia Follow UPDATE: SHE SAID YES WE'RE GETTING ICE CREAM NEXT WEEK!!! EVERYBODY CHEER

7,043 notes

☐ hero-updates Follow Hero "Lightspeed" spotted at an ice cream parlor by the name of "Andy's"! More updates as they arrive!

21 notes

🪼 mackleless Follow i have,,, 506 new followers,,, where did you all come from,, the fucking tidalwave void??????

🔥 killmedead Follow yes

🪼 mackleless Follow Fucking Fair Enough I Guess

8,654 notes

🕰 cringcrong Follow bitches love me for my complex of lightning like scars that stretch across my entire body from when i was possesed by a demon

🕰 cringcrong Follow anyways be sympathetic with chaos demon/trickster survivors, nobody tried to cause the harm they did they were simply thrown in the way

🕰 cringcrong Follow [ ALT TEXT: a screenshot of a notification reading "ASHES2ASHES reblogged your post: "bitches love me fo..." ". End id.] he's got that trix sponsorship!!!!!!!

27,653 notes

👁‍🗨 darlingsos Follow [ALT TEXT: a photo of the sword in central new haven with the sunset in the backround. End id.] my friends are contemplating if they could climb up it, and i'm getting a free homework pass for my photography course with this shot 😎

155 notes

🐦‍⬛ noctivagant-notcorvid Follow weare living through a Really Fucking Annoying Chapter of someone's history class btw. trickster AND belltech controversy AND hero criticism AND meatball from space AND villian sympathy at an all time high AND all of the diff chaos demon incidents AND whatever the FUCk is going on with deadwood at All Times AND-

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☄ tapedtogetherhope Follow more Concerning Things lethe has said: "oh, you don't eat deer if they have more than two eyes. then you'll see it. duh." "the hard part of dead things is making sure they stay dead." "you know, how if you run away from home too many times the forest starts to think you belong to it." "anybody can make a star if they explode enough." "why the hell would you go to a river alone? do you want to be soap?"

🌀 goncharovenoveout Follow see most of this can be brushed off as midwest gothic esque from pre-powered era but. what do you mean do i want to be soap.

18,564 notes

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ohhh, Sometimes women's breast get clogged up with milk, könig would use this as the perfect opportunity to be close to you and massage your chest to help, he's just so sweet helping you out like that.😊

Omg omg omg of course he’d help her!!!

CW: Postpartum phase, children, light angst, breast stimulation, yandere undertones.

König has become soft ever since the baby was born.

You read somewhere that men's testosterone levels suffer a significant drop after they become fathers, which perhaps explains why he looks like a melting marshmallow in hot cocoa these days. König's stare has always followed you wherever you go but now that you're carrying his child in your arms, the looks he gives you are far more… benevolent. You suspect he must be proud of you, first carrying the baby for nine long months and then suffering an arduous birth - because of course this titan's baby weighed over 8 pounds - and now you're giving your everything to the soft little thing König calls "his kleine Butterblume."

You're in a baby bubble together, but not all days are heavenly and sweet. And now, on top of everything else, your breast is clogged. The lady at the maternity clinic told you this is a common issue and can easily be dealt with at home, but the instructions you received left you staring off into space for a few moments.

Later that evening, the problem is still very much acute, and you're getting desperate.

When you go to König and beg him to help you, there is a sharp intake of breath just before he nods. An odd striptease show ensues in silence: you're puffy and swollen and sore, you feel like a wreck as you take off your shirt and bra. König has always referred to you as a flower or a heavenly being, but now, you must resemble a sullen bloom at the end of July. Overblown and weary, heavy and plush, petals pouting, falling if someone were to touch them.

You feel like crying from seeing that König still worships you with his stare. If anything, he seems to approve of the extra pounds and your devastated state, only looks you up and down with boundless hunger, silent but with a heaving chest. When you're bare, he rises, and you're turned around and pulled in a stout embrace. Large, warm hands land over your poor, aching breasts, and you quickly remind him to be gentle - the instructions were to pet the breasts like you would a cat. He rumbles a dark laugh against your back, and then the hands start to massage you, blessedly soft but imperious.

Your sighs grow heavy and weary. It hurts a little, but the relief is imminent. Your head rolls back to rest on the mountain of his chest, and then you begin to sob.

You let it all come out as a series of soft, sad little whines: how tired you are, how the baby is far more work than you thought, how your breasts hurt all the time and how you don't even know if you're doing things right. How you just want to sleep…

He rubs you through your breakdown, and it's soothing to be held by someone as strong as König… But then he pants a hot wish in your ear.

"I thought we'd soon make another one..."

"Mh, wha–another one?"

"Ja, sicher. We must make three or four at least. Oder?"

You are about to collapse, about to faint, but can't because a demigod is keeping you from falling.

"Don't worry little lily. I know you need to rest first. I'll wait a few more weeks."

"König–"

You shudder as his thumbs brush over your nipples.

"Am I doing it right?" He asks with a low, soft purr.

Your mind is in disarray, a trophy from not getting enough sleep for months, and you're tired of struggling against his indomitable will. First things first, you think, stuffing the earlier conversation somewhere into the recesses of your exhausted mind.

"Um. The lady said you should–that you could… try to suck them too," you breathe with unease.

"Ist das so?"

You're moved to the bed before you can even whimper.

...Is he so eager to do this?

Of course he is; you haven't had sex in months. He's only had his own calloused hand to keep him company, and you've been too tired to even think about such things. Your body has become a stranger to you, and when he moves to crawl on top of you, it only looks like the prowl of an apex predator.

The coarse stubble of his chin makes you flinch – it's like an array of tiniest daggers caressing your breasts. When he takes your aching nipple into his warm mouth, you shudder. It feels utterly different to have a grown man sucking on your tits; it's ten times more demanding, a hundred times more intense when the man in question is König. The hunger, the overstimulation, the exhaustion make your head spin, his mouth and tongue force you to release your stress in shakes. Before you even know it, there are tears streaming down your face.

He doesn't stop. Probably thinks it's only a good thing that you get it all out of your system. He must feel good about himself for making you cry while lapping and sucking at your breasts, he rubs, licks, and nibs until you're sniffling and wailing on that bed.

"Little angel… I've never been this hard," he pants on your slathered, slick nipple. "Do you know what it does to a man to look but never touch?"

Your tiny, weary heart is flapping against its cage. "König, we can't make another one… I can't, I can't, not yet…"

"Ah… But if I promise I'll pull out?"

[heavyhitterheaux]

Boys Day Out

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: First Lady sends her favorite boys Jack, Axel, and Urban to the Chelsea game

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

First Lady of Private Garden Masterlist

Requested by: 1/3 of hot chips and bad decisions @hoodharlow 😘

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Hearing the doorbell ring,  you checked the security cameras to see that it was Blanca and Jessica and quickly went to open the door from your spot on the couch that you had been sitting on.

Once they stepped into the house, they took notice of how quiet it was and looked at you confused.

“Where is everyone? Because I don't think I have ever heard your house this quiet.” Jessica whispered, ultimately waiting for her nieces and nephew to tackle her. Because she knew that it was only a matter of time.

“I was thinking the exact same thing.” Blanca added as the two of them followed you into the kitchen as you poured all three of you a glass of red wine.

“Umm, Y/N? It's 9 in the morning.” Blanca called out to you once you had slid her glass in front of her seeing as you still haven't said anything.

“I'm fine, just taking it all in and it's 5 o'clock somewhere.” You said while sighing and immediately downing your glass and opting now to drink straight from the bottle.

“I-......” Jessica started to say as she and Blanca exchanged a look.

“Do we….”

“No, you do NOT need to call him.” You blurted out immediately knowing she was talking about Jack.

“We're going to have to disagree with you there.”

“I sent him, Ax, and Urb to London for the Chelsea game because they were getting on my last nerve. Not Axel, but the other two. I love them to pieces, but got damn. I needed a breather. Jack has been up my ass lately.”

“Uh? When is he not? That's your husband?” Blanca asked you not understanding because there was never a time that you didn't want to be around him.

“I'm trying to plan something for him that's really special and I can't do that when he is breathing down my neck. Now add three little people into that equation. I can't even pee by myself anymore without one of my four children, yes, I said four but I should have said five because Urban is my oldest banging on the door. Last night I was this close to sleeping in the bathroom with the door locked.”

“And Jack would have still broken down the door to get to you.”

“Correct.” You sighed while continuing to sip from the wine bottle.

“But where are your other two?”

“With my parents. I called my mom this morning and I was like you begged for grandchildren so come and get them.”

“I literally CANNOT.” Blanca exclaimed while laughing.

“I put Ivy and Autumn on the doorstep with their backpacks with clothes and toys for the entire weekend and I was like see you next week. I really wanted to say see you when you're 18, but that wouldn't have gone over well so now I have been sitting in silence and I am not complaining one bit.”

Meanwhile, Jack, Urban, and Axel had just landed in London and on the way to the hotel, Ax asked Jack for his phone.

“Daddy, can I see your phone?”

“What do you need it for, bubs?” Jack asked as he stuck his hand in his pocket to get it out.

“I need to talk to mommy.” Ax answered without missing a beat and Jack knew that it was only a matter of time. 

“Hold on, let me facetime her.”

You answered on the second ring and all you saw was a fluffy head of brown curls.

“Mommy!”

“Hi my baby boy. Move the phone from your face a little. All I can see is your hair!”

Jack helped him adjust it so now you could see both of them.

“There's my two handsome boys. Well three because I know Urban is there somewhere too.”

“I still haven't forgiven the two of you for leaving me at wing stop.” Urban said while leaning over so that you could see him too.

“Urby! That was ONE time!”

“One time too many!”

“Wifey, what are you up to?” Jack asked as he saw you nursing a bottle of red wine. Little did he know, this was your second.

“Enjoying sitting in complete silence besides B and Jess.”

“I…. Not hot chips and bad decisions!”

“Yes, hot chips and bad decisions! Leave us alone!”

“Jack, stop getting on your wife’s nerves!” Jack heard Jessica say as he saw her walk past in the background.

“Jessica! And don't eat all my snacks either!”

“Well I have to because we came to watch the game with wifey and keep her company!”

“Baby? Since when do you watch soccer?” Jack asked while looking at you confused.

“Since today. And I always used to watch you play anyway.”

“Mommy, I miss you.” Ax piped up and you could feel the tugging of your heart strings.

“Ax… we literally just got here.” Jack said while shaking his head and Urban stifled a laugh.

“Daddy, you just said that you missed mommy before we called her.”

“I…. it be your own kids.”

“I miss you too bubs!” You said and saw him crack a small smile.

“But you don't miss your husband?!”

“Yes of course I miss my baby daddy, but you and Urby have been getting on my LAST nerve this past week.”

“Wait! NOW WHY AM I IN IT!?” Urban exclaimed while leaning back over into the camera and looking confused.

“Urban Henry… don't go there with me. You and your best friend act more like toddlers than my actual toddlers.”

“I… I'm going to get you for that when I get back.”

“Mm hmm, sure. Anyway, I love all three of you very much, but especially Axel Wyatt. And have fun at the game. And Axel?”

“Yes, mommy?”

“Be on your absolute best behavior for daddy and Uncle Urby. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“Listen to everything that they say, okay?”

He eagerly nodded his head as you then focused your attention on Jack.

“I love you, smush.”

“I love you too, baby girl. Promise to call you later.”

The three of you were in the kitchen making snacks for the game when a picture suddenly came through on your phone from Jack.

Smush- I thought the shirt was fitting so I had to buy it. We're eating and then going to the game. Hot chips still got you in one piece over there?

You- I'm about to yell and you know why I'm about to yell but I'll give you a chance to fix it first. Send me a pic of Ax in five minutes and what I see will determine if I kick you and Urban’s ass. And yes I am in one piece, but you and Urby won't be if you don't fix what's wrong

Urban was sitting across from Jack and saw how his face got a confused expression and immediately asked what was wrong.

“Do you see anything wrong with the pic of Ax I took?”

“No. It looks fine.”

“Then why did she send me this?” Jack asked as he shoved his phone towards Urban who instantly rolled his eyes.

“Why am I ALWAYS in it!? And what in the world are we supposed to fix in five minutes!?”

“Your guess is as good as mine! Even though there's an entire ocean between us, I take her threats seriously.”

“Only a matter of time before she shows up if we don't fix it.”

Jack quickly sent you another text telling you how confused he was.

Smush- Baby, I'm not understanding 😕 

You- You have three minutes

“URB! HELP!” Jack yelled while shoving his phone towards him.

“WHAT YOU YELLING FOR?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HELP YOU IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON EITHER?!”

“This is just as bad as when I thought I lost my wedding ring.”

“Had us both stressed out but she had it the whole time.”

“Bubs, finish up your food so we can get to the stadium and put on your coat.”

“But I'm not cold, daddy.”

“Ax, if we go home and you end up getting sick, your mother will not be happy with me so put it on. And put your hat on too.”

“So, you want me to be hot?”

“Axel, put them on and put them on now before I call her.”

“Fine.”

It was the middle of the game when the three of you were watching in your living room when the camera suddenly cut to Jack, Urban, and Axel and your eyes instantly went wide as you grabbed your phone. Jack still didn't figure out what was wrong with the picture of Axel that he had sent you earlier, but seeing him at the game without his coat on while Jack and Urban was wearing theirs had you instantly annoyed. The last thing you wanted to deal with was a sick Axel because he is literally Jack in a little kid's body and acted exactly how he did when he got sick.

“Why doesn't Axel have on his coat?” Jessica asked as your fingers were flying across your  phone screen asking your husband the exact same thing.

“That's what I'm asking him right now.”

You- Jackman Thomas Harlow

Smush- 👀

Smush- Whatever it is, I didn't do it and neither did Urban because I know you’re about to throw him in there too

You- If our child comes back to Louisville sick, I will not be happy

Smush- Why would he come back sick?

You- He doesn't have on his coat!

Jack then turned to Axel who had once again taken off his coat after he had told him numerous times to keep it on.

“Bubs!”

“Yes, daddy?”

“Put your coat on! Why do you keep taking it off!?!? It is 40 degrees out here and your mother will kill me if you have so much as a sniffle when we get back. And where is your hat!?”

“In my pocket.”

“Axel Wyatt….”

“Yes?”

“You have five seconds to get your hat and coat on.”

This continued on and off for the rest of the game and Axel only kept his coat and hat on for a total of thirty minutes between Jack and Urban telling him to put it on.

The three of them were now flying back and Jack was praying the entire time that Axel wouldn't start sneezing or spike a temperature. He was currently laid out on Jack when he felt his forehead and it was slightly warmer than usual and he immediately groaned. 

“She's going to have a damn fit.” He muttered to himself, but Urban heard him.

“Not your fault that he kept taking it off.” Urban responded while shrugging.

“Hmm, tell my wife that and tell me how it goes.” Jack replied as Axel shifted his position on his lap and cuddled closer to Jack.

Jack and Axel had been back for a few days when you heard several sneezes in a row from your husband and all you did was sigh as you walked in the direction that he was in which was your bedroom meaning that he was awake.

When he spotted you, he looked up at you with his eyes red as well as his nose.

“No. Don't you dare say it.”

“Say what, baby?” You asked him while coming up to hug him and reaching up to give him a small kiss which he gladly accepted.

Your immune system could handle it and typically while everyone in the house was sick, you weren't.

“Your son got me sick.”

“Oh, so now he's my son? Since when is he not yours too?”

“He's the one who didn't wear a coat for the majority of the time and I'm the one who gets sick. How does that work?!”

“Because kids are literally walking germs. That's why.”

Axel peeked his head into your bedroom and you motioned for him to come all the way in.

“Yes, bubs?” Jack asked and Axel sighed before letting out a fit of coughs.

“Daddy, you got me sick. I don't feel good.” He said as he reached up towards Jack so that he could pick him up.

“I did WHAT NOW?” Jack asked as he picked him up.

Axel didn't have time to answer, but instead sneezed on Jack who had a look of disbelief on his face.

“Seriously Ax? Bless you.”

“Sorry, daddy.” Ax answered as he did his best to cough into his arm.

“And mommy, I was so cold when we were at the game.”

“I….” Jack started to say but then turned back to look at Axel.

“That's what happens when you don't listen to daddy and you got me sick. Not the other way around.”

“I didn't start coughing until you did.”

“Okay, enough you two. Get in the bed, NOW.”

“Do we get cuddles from you?” Axel asked looking up at you hopeful as Jack climbed into the bed with him in his arms.

“For now, you're cuddling daddy because you are not getting mommy sick. I'll bring meds and food soon.”

Axel sighed as he looked up at Jack.

“You aren't mommy, but I guess you’ll have to do.” He said as he climbed on Jack’s chest and laid down while trying to get comfortable.

“Really, Ax?”

“Daddy, just try not to snore. I'm taking a nap, wake me up when the food is done.”

“As long as you don't kick me like you usually do we shouldn't have a problem.” 

“Not my fault you take up all the space.”

“You little…”

“OKAY! Both of you lay down right now.” 

Without another word, both of them did as they were told and you simply placed kisses on both the tops of their heads.

“Not another word out of either of you and Ax, the next time daddy says for you to put on your coat and hat in 40 degree weather, you do it.”

“But.. “

“Not another word, remember?”

This led to Axel getting a pout on his face and cuddling closer to Jack who simply laughed.

“So much for boys day out. Now the both of you are sick.”

Suddenly your phone went off in your hand indicating a text from Urban.

Urby Baby- Your son got me sick

You- Well according to him his father got him sick

Urby Baby- Can you bring me soup? PLEASE

You- I do something nice for the three of you and this is what I get in return? I have to take care of all three of you now that yall are sick!?! Do I have to do everything!?!?

Urby Baby- Come on Lil Bit, I said please!

You- Be over here in fifteen minutes 🙄

Liked by y/ninsta, blancahood, jackharlow, claybornharlow, jessicakelce, saweetie, druski2funny, dualipa, and 492,736 others

urbanwyatt: and it was at that moment, jackharlow knew he fucked up lmaoooo

lilnasx: who was he texting? urbanwyatt: lilnasx as Axel likes to call her, the boss lol jackharlow: I was fighting for my damn life in those text messages. wifey going off and me not having any idea what she's talking about y/ninsta: and now all three of you got me sick smh jackharlow: y/ninsta that leads to ultimate cuddles from me and Ax y/ninsta: jackharlow so he can sneeze in my face like he did you? jessicakelce: now you do something nice for them and this is how they repay you? outta pocket y/ninsta: jessicakelce same thing I said smh urbanwyatt: y/ninsta my soup was good bestie. thank you 🥰 y/ninsta: jackharlow babeeeee my throat hurts jackharlow: y/ninsta I got a cure for that 😏😏😏😏 jackharlow: y/ninsta wait, baby why'd you lock the bedroom door?! not you leaving me and Ax outside y/ninsta: jackharlow when you say stupid shit like that, this is the result lilnasx: jackharlow what the boss says goes jackharlow: lilnasx not you too 🙄

Taglist:

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[kohabielnin]

Truth & Inference headcanons working together

It's been a while since I wanted to put down on paper all the knowledge I have about the Truth & Inference universe, so… here it is

D.M/Désire Mélodis

• As a famous nobleman and art teacher, in front of others he treats you well and pleasantly, not so much when behind closed doors,

• He often sends you on missions with Noir or simply to come if Gatto is okay,

• Even though it doesn't seem like much, he actually cares about you, always teasing you and things like that,

• If you stay in the same environment as him, Noir and Tuberose, the only one who will defend you will be Noir because both Tuberose and D.M will provoke you,

• D.M is like a devil in human skin, but anyway he thinks you are a very important person in his life and will take care of you,

• He often likes to show you off as his, even though you are just an employee at his service, he is very proud of the little mouse he has in his hands

Gatto/Aesop Carl

• Gatto is by no means a person who enjoys company other than four-legged furry ones, but after so long he has learned not to care so much about you,

• Cat and the other kitties seem to just love you, so it makes Gatto feel a little better around you,

• Both you and him share the fear of being left alone with Tuberose,

• As you have a degree in chemistry, he usually asks for your help when he has some difficulty in an experiment,

• Usually trusts you to make his coffee and look after Cat while he's away,

• You are the only person he trusts to tell you that he has been leaking information about D.M to Sir Inference and you don't really care about it, but you still promised to keep it secret from the others for the safety of the Silent Rebel

Tuberose/Jack

• As soon as D.M told him that you would be his partner, be sure he held back a lot until the day he could have your confidence to tease you,

• Generally he likes to talk about Lady Rosemary and you can be sure that this conversation only ends when you end up sleeping,

• Even though he is an idiotic provocateur, he is very kind when he wants to be,

• As I said, he has his moments of kindness, presenting you with flowers, but then he goes back to teasing you again if he sees your face flushed,

• Pray you never have him and D.M in the same room, they both love to tease you,

• We all know that Tuberose is a hot man, and he clearly knows that so the normal tease he uses on you is just how you look at his six-pack on display.

Noir/Saphir Mélodis

• You and him always worked together because you both wanted to, not at D.M's request,

• Since you've known each other since you were children, it's as if you two can read each other's minds and that helps a lot when it comes to getting your hands dirty,

• It's not just him who has a certain affection for you, Leon your falcon also likes you a lot and likes to receive affection from you,

• D.M lets the two of you stay together because he says Noir is happy in his company and performs great on missions when he's by his side,

• Of course, not everything is a bed of roses, after all, there isn't a day that goes by that Tuberose doesn't tease you because of his childhood relationship with Noir,

• In the same way that Tuberose provokes you, Noir always appears at the right times to save you, of course, not before giving beautiful answers to Tuberose

Lady Truth/Emma Woods

• You, her and Mr. Inferece met at the orphanage and have been together ever since.

• She is very affectionate and dedicated to her two childhood friends, so there won't be a day that goes by that you are sad that she doesn't try to make a smile appear on your face,

• Unlike Mr. Inference, she is not as serious and is more relaxed, trying her best to make the agency's atmosphere light,

• She loves to surprise you with her favorite snack at least one day a week, it only changes when it's your birthday week which is every day and on your birthday she throws a surprise party for you,

• When it comes to investigations, she relies heavily on her deductive potential, so while she looks for clues, she usually lets you come up with the line of reasoning to solve the case,

• Once a month she changes the flowers in the vase on her table, always to her favorite flowers.

Mr. Inference/Naib Subedar

• He always saw you as a little brother/sister,

• Even with his serious demeanor, he cares a lot about you and often asks if you're okay,

• When the two of you are alone, he often shares his concerns about D.M.

• Usually you, him and Lady Truth go to events as guests and you can be sure that you are the only person who can calm him down when they meet D.M,

• D.M, in turn, really likes to provoke the detective and you, which clearly doesn't come very cheaply to the count,

• As your relationship with him is long-standing, you understand each other without needing words and he also trusts your deduction a lot.

White/Saphir Mélodis

• He is always extremely affectionate with you,

• You two haven't known each other long, but you feel like you've known each other for a long time,

• His owl also loves to sit on his shoulder and receive affection,

• He usually sleeps at work, according to him it's a nap to work better, but he usually keeps muttering things like "I really like your company" and things like that while he calls your name in his sleep,

• On his days off he loves going out with you to a park and being able to sleep under a tree on your lap, according to him it's a moment of peace for him,

• There's no denying that he's extremely cute, and sometimes he uses that to his advantage to get your attention.

[gojonish]

first meetings || ᵗᵃᵏᵃˢʰⁱ ᵐⁱᵗˢᵘʸᵃ

how you and mitsuya met

pairing: takashi mitsuya x fem!reader

content: fluff, lowercase intended, one curse word, idk how old mana and luna are but pretend they're like four here, i'm not a big fan of how i wrote this ngl

note: as y'all can see, i am still in my mitsuya arc teehee

mitsuya didn't believe in soulmates.

he believed love was overrated. especially when seeing takemitchy and hinata be all lovey-dubey, it made him realize how cringy dating can be. besides, he was too busy with toman and his sisters to even think about love. he knew there was a time for it, but he didn't think now.

well, at least until he met you. he still remembers that day like it was yesterday.

~~

it was a sunny day, a little too hot for mitsuya's liking. he decided to take his sisters out to the playground near their house since they had been begging him for days now. he eventually complied, bringing along his sketchbook and pen to draw while his sisters played.

after a while, mitsuya noticed it was getting dark. did time really fly that fast? he looked up from his sketchbook to see his sisters-

where were his sisters?

he could've sworn they were playing on the swings just a minute ago- where could they have gone in such a short amount of time?

mitsuya looked everywhere in the park: the playground, the skatepark, the soccer field- but his sisters were nowhere to be found. he kept calling out their names, but there was no response.

he spent a good two hours looking for luna and mana but unfortunately, he couldn't find them. he sat on the stairs of his house, his head in his arms and tears threatening to leave his eyes. he was panicking now, hesitating to call the cops.

then he heard it.

"takashi!"

mitsuya looked up to see his two sisters running toward him, both with joyful tears in their eyes. they tackled him to the ground and hugged him, happy to be reunited with their brother.

"we're sorry for running away!" luna sobbed.

"yeah, we won't do it again!" mana cried.

mitsuya was so relieved, he thought he was hallucinating. tears streamed down his cheeks and he smiled softly, "it's okay, don't do it again, you little monsters.”

unbeknownst to the grey-haired teen, you were awkwardly standing in front of him, your hand rubbing the back of your neck nervously. that's their brother? he's so hot!

you didn't expect your shopping spree to be interrupted by two little girls asking for your help to find their brother. after many attempts on trying to ask what their brother looked like through their loud sobs, you decided to just walk them around the city until they calmed down.

after they finally eased up (which took almost an hour) you were finally able to ask them where they had come from which they replied with the park. they somehow led you to their house, which resulted in you being in this awkward situation.

the brother was cute, he had piercings and a grey mullet reaching down to his neck. he looked about your age, maybe older, but you weren't completely sure. he had a cute smile, one that made your cheeks heat up quickly.

after about three minutes, the family broke off their embrace. the two sisters lightened up when they saw you and tried to get their brother's attention on you.

"takashi! this pretty lady helped us find you!" mana said, holding you hand and jumping excitingly.

"yeah! she even bought us ice cream to make us feel better!" luna replied, pointing at you and smiling.

mitsuya finally locked his eyes on the girl his sisters were looking at and he felt his world stop. you were so...

pretty. so, so pretty

he's never seen anyone like you. you were ethereal- not a part of this world- an enigma to anyone's eyes-

"hello?"

mitsuya was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard your heavenly voice. "i'm sorry, what were you saying?"

you chuckled, which caused his heart to beat a bit faster, "i just wanted to ask if you'll be alright? i know you must’ve been worried about your sisters.”

mitsuya blinked, "oh, yes! i'll be great- amazing even! thank you for bringing them back.”

"of course, they were so sweet," you smiled and then breathed out, "well, i guess i'll be on my way then."

mitsuya didn't want you to leave, not yet. he didn't even get your name!

"wait!" he called out as you turned away, "would you like to stay for dinner? after that i can walk you home."

you chuckled nervously, "no no, it's alright-"

a stomach growl coming from you interrupted your sentence.

"you know what? maybe i'll take your offer," you laughed, "i'm (l/n)."

"mitsuya, nice to meet you, (l/n)."

you smiled and followed him inside, but stopped when you saw him pause in front of the door.

"hey, can i take you out tomorrow? for lunch or something?" he asked.

"oh, what's the reason?"

"think of it as repaying for finding my sisters for me," he winked, which made your throat dry.

you chuckled, "you really don't have to-"

"i want to."

your heart was beating too fast now, "okay fine mitsuya, deal."

the rest of the night was a time with laughter, jokes, and subtle (awkward) flirting between the two potential lovebirds. the two of you became friends quite quickly and with that, mitsuya’s friends figured out his girl-crush on you quite quickly.

~~

extra!

mitsuya had recently been drawing you, just because he was so mesmerized by your beauty. he loved your reaction when he showed you the many sketches that he drew- and since your birthday was coming up, he wanted to draw a portrait of you as a present. he was currently practicing in his notebook.

mitsuya was so focused on drawing you that he didn't even notice the blonde that came up behind him.

"mitsuya, who's that you're drawing?" chifuyu asked, looking over the grey-haired boy's shoulder. "it's a girl!?"

upon hearing his voice, mitsuya shut his notebook (a little too quickly) and hid it behind his back, "she's nobody! she's just a fashion model i saw online."

"right..." chifuyu eyed him very suspiciously, but then left his area.

mitsuya let out a sigh of relief that chifuyu didn't catch onto his crush. if he had found out, then all of toman would know by now-

"guys! mitsuya has a crush on a girl and is drawing her in his sketchbook!"

oh shit.

[chowplanet]

So I'm going to make another rant this time for Jackie Bouvier Kennedy Onassis. Enough with the corny, "she eats metal sheets," meme of Jackie. Okay, we all know she wasn't super gorgeous like Jessical Alba or Scarlett Johansson level, I get it. Jackie's teeth does remind me she drank coffee and smoked a lot. This lady has been through so much in her younger years. She lost three children before JFK's assassination. If JFK Jr. died before his mother on the plane accident she would have witnessed four of children's deaths. We all know she grew up rich and privileged, so she isn't "relatable" like Marilyn Monroe. This doesn't mean Jackie Kennedy never dealt with problems growing up. There are rumors that she was possibly a racist all because she didn't liked her wedding dress which designed by a black woman, but how come no one is mentioning Jackie invited a black female opera singer to the white house to perform when the black female opera singer was struggling financially? I know it's Marilyn Monroe's cult worshippers dissing and roasting Jackie Kennedy on a daily basis. But let me tell you this Jackie Kennedy had the right to be upset at both her husband (JFK) and Marilyn Monroe. It takes two to tango and Monroe knew he was a married man. Sophia Loren, Barbara Eden (I dreamed of Jeannie), Trippi Hedren, Olivia De Havilland, and Jean Simmons all rejected or decline JFK because they were aware he was married. He wanted to hook up with them, and those ladies all turned him down. So please do not come to me by saying Marilyn Monroe was 100% a victim when clearly she wasn't forced to have an affair with the president and his married brother (RFK). I also want to give Jackie major props for telling Marilyn Monroe on the phone since she kept on calling the White House and bragging to Jackie that she was going to steal her husband. Jackie didn't backed down nor was intimidated. She hold her posture by telling Monroe she can move in to deal with the problems while she moves out and does not have to deal with being a Kennedy wife or a first lady anymore. I say Jackie was ballsy. That was so gangsta of her. That was one bad ass first lady besides Eleanor Roosevelt and Dolly Madison. This woman has to witness her husband getting shot right next to her while her pink suit is dreaded with his blood and his dead body on her lap all the way from Dealey Plaza to Parkland Hospital. After that she has to take care of two children. She has to move out of the White House very quickly around the Thanksgiving holiday. So people saying she isn't strong enough or smart enough (Jackie spoke five different languages) is absurd. I don't think some people would be in Jackie's shoes especially the ones who are saying she wasn't a strong woman. People are also going in on her because she wasn't some kind of a Hollywood actress like Monroe. I don't think Jackie ever gave a (bleep). She didn't care about that Hollywood lifestyle, nor she cared Marilyn is a Hollywood icon. One thing for sure Jackie is not going to kiss certain people's butts just because they have that title. I like her punk attitude that she didn't care for celebrity worship culture. People are really giving Marilyn a pass because she was a blonde and blue eye Hollywood legend. Enough is enough. JFK and Marilyn were wrong. Jackie could have been killed on November 22, 1963. She was right there next to her murdered husband. And no one seems to care because she wasn't "hot and fine" enough. It is crazy to find out the last thing JFK saw was his wife's face before before getting shot in the head. Hopefully in the afterlife he thought about the things he put Jackie through here on earth. That he really had a good woman in his life. Sad just sad.

And by the way, I've noticed people are mocking JFK's death more often compared to Abraham Lincoln. I don't know because Lincoln is more respected (which I love how he is still respected to this day) or is because some enviousness is going on around here. Whatever it is stop with the corny JFK's jokes about his head exploded. Idk but it's giving jealousy and envy. Maybe it has something to do with he hooked up with Marilyn and other people wish they were in his position to do so. Whatever it is, stop with the mad corny jokes it isn't even funny. I'm talking to you Reddit users, TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram users.

[justmystical]

The Forgotten-3

Pairing: Lucifer x Butterfly!Fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Stsr vs the forces of evil

Warnings: takes place before Hazbin Hotel, Alternative Universe

One | Two| Navigation | four

You and Lucifer were Currently hanging out in your usually spot below an apple tree, Lucifer was reading a book and petting Keekee. Something he does so often when you guys hang together.

As for you, you were currently hanging upside from the apple tree and thinking was a good thing to do on this fine afternoon. Not gonna lie you were bored, to the point you would learn more spells from the family spell book.

Then you remembered

You were currently getting snacks for both of you and Lucifer, come on apple all the time and your craving some chocolate. Do they have Snookers on earth? No they don't,

maybe a Mewni thing? But SNOOKERS!

You then read about festival that's gonna be held at night in a poster outside of a shop...

You suddenly jumped out from the tree,which nearly gave poor Lucifer and Keekee a heart attack,you gave them a nervous smile.

"i just remembered there's a festival in this Village later , we should go" you suggested, while Keekee looked intrigued, Lucifer froze and debated to join.

"I don't know..."

You noticed this and nudge Lucifer shoulders" hey come on it will be fun...and it's my first festival ever!"you said and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"first?"

"yeah,i never been to festival before" it's true though you been to one,you were always cooped up inside the Castle for protection, monsters roam around a lot so as a Princess of Mewni you and Eclipsa need to protected.

"aren't you like in your early 20s, and you still couldn't go?" He pointed out .

"I'm a busy lady"Busy as in studying magic with Glossaryck , because you late be taught, unlike Eclipsa,she was taught when she was Fourteen until she became Queen. You were taught later on...

"please Luci"Lucifer wanted to agree,but some of people here have Guardian angels and he was doomed if he was caught, you see he was forbidden to even go to earth. He only break those rules for you...

"come on Luci"you gave him puppy dog eyes he couldn't resist.

Ugh the things you do to me

He finally agreed, you jump up and down not notice the root Of the tree and you stumbled on it , falling on top of Lucifer.

Oof

You felt his chest under you and his hot breath on your face ,you looked at his eyes.You two looked at each other as if time stopped and nothing was around you two .

You felt fireworks as held you...

Then the moment was suddenly interrupted by a Meow and saw your Beloved companion in her little earth form.

You the realized you were on top of Lucifer,you stood up quickly , feeling the heat of your face spread .

"c-c-come o-on we s-should go!"you stuttered and ran away quickly as Keekee followed.

Lucifer stood there stunned... also blushing

You walked through the sea people with Lucifer in the festival. You were having the best night of your life trying different foods from different stalls. Keekee was also happy being fed .

As for Lucifer he looked like he was hiding for someone ? He wore a cloak and the hood was on, he was being cautious around other people...

Does he not like going outside in the crowd?

Maybe you should have listened to him not go to the Festival?

Maybe the he didn't agreed at first is because he's not good with crowds?

Then suddenly you got an idea.

"Keekee, can you watch Lucifer for a while?i gonna do something okay?"Keekee was hesitant at first. She was made to protect you at all cost,that why she neve leaves your side...

"oh come on Keekee it'll be quick,and if anything happens I'll shout" Keekee still feels the need to go with you,but she sense a bound between you and the King of Hell. Ofcourse Keekee knew...

She felt the energy radiating from him since day one.But some reason she didn't find him a danger to her wielder....

At the end she agreed...

Lucifer knows he fucked, Ultimately fucked,he sense angelic auras everywhere. He may have hid his demonic aura but he knew one slip up they'd find him and report back to heaven.

But he couldn't say no to you...

He saw how your eye's sparkle at every stall and every games in the festival.

He suddenly froze, a old man walks pass by him and he saw a guardian angel floating by his side.

He screwed...

But some reason he wasn't seen...

He felt something soft brush his legs and looked down to see a cat with cat with a scar on the left eye...

Keekee...

Speaking of Keekee...

Where's n/n?

He looked around and started to panic , until Keekee nudge his leg. She pointed with her paw to a direction and he followed.

She began to guide Lucifer to your whereabouts.

Until they saw you talking to a vendor of...

Lanterns?

He walked up to you ,you smile when you saw him.

"surprise!" You hand him a lantern.

"what this?"he asked

"a lantern"

"yeah,but?"

"just follow me " you suddenly grabbed his hand and walked to a cliff in a fast pace.

Your long red hair flowed through the air as your Turquoise eyes sparkle.

"let's lit this Lanterns up" you told him and he only nodded.

"i saw you feeling uncomfortable earlier so hopefully this lantern can help?it always makes me feel better. My father always make me and my sister these when i was little..."you explained only looking at the Lanterns float away.

Lucifer looked at the beautiful Lanterns float away but nothing can compare to your smile...

"thanks n/n"

"huh?oh... You're welcome Luci!"

You just got back from earth and fell down to your bed with a groan, you enjoyed the festival with Lucifer...

But you remembered what happened earlier before that..

You felt his chest under you and his hot breath on your face ,you looked at his eyes.You two looked at each other as if time stopped and nothing was around you two

You felt fireworks as held you...

Keekee looked at you out of her Earth disguise.

"come you saw that,it was embarrassing but..."it was still in your mind

"you what time for bed!"

You got ready for bed and tomorrow is another day.

You were currently practicing some magic with Glossaryck.

"why are my ancestors spells so hard ?!"

"well how about you try out some of your spells?"he suggested and you nodded.

"Dreamer's Hallucinations"

"our of all the spell-"it hit a mirror and suddenly Glossaryck got cut off when the beam hit him.

"IT'S A POOL OF CHOCOLATE PUDDING!"

"WAIT GLOSSARYCK THAT'S NO-"he already jumped into dirty fountain in the garden.

"Magica Reverso!"you conjure another spell.

The spell before got reverse and now Glossaryck jump away from the murky fountain,he almost ate moss..

"let's not talk about that.."

"aye aye !"

"try another spell that's not included hallucinations..."

You though for a moment...then realized...

"oh i have spell that I've been working on!"it was a spell that can defend your whole entire family and everyone in mewni.

"it's a defense spell"you mentioned and Glossaryck conjured up a puppet.

You concentrate and said the spell in your head multiple times to be ready to say it , Glossaryck waited until you were ready.

"Wither and Decay Let Rose Decompose..." A dark violet beam shot out of the wand as your cheek marks looked like it was blossoming like a rose ?

Glossaryck saw this and was shocked your marks are like roses ?

The beam shot through the poor Puppets chest , roses exploded from it's chest and loud boom echoed through the whole Palace.

You marks were still glowing and now fully blossom to be a dark rose.

You watched at horror as the roses slowly consumed the poor puppet.

"n/n!" You heard sister call out in concern,she heard the loud boom from the garden,she quickly ran out of the throne room because she knows you were having magic lessons with Glossaryck.

She saw you marks,she was shocked. They were not red circles anymore but dark Roses. She also noticed a puppet?

It was slowly getting consumed by what it looked decaying roses?

The Magical High Commission also join in and saw what happened.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!?"A girl with flame ontop of her head yelled out

"what did you do?!"Romulus exclaimed.

Uh oh

Glossaryck has seen this type of spell before...

Eclipsa's

He warned her not to use that spell before,she listened ofcourse... because she was starting to grow black veins in her arms , that's why she now wears gloves...

You felt guilty as you made your sister concerned...

Everyone watched as the puppet exploded into white petals. Now your cheeks where back to a red round shape marks.

"I'm sorry..."

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Happy Birthday, Babe

Getting attention on your birthday has never been your thing. You prefer to celebrate with a quiet day to yourself. After a productive morning at the gym, you throw in the towel, and lock eyes with Jeff. He's on his hands and knees, crawling directly towards you...

"What the hell!" you gasp, "Dude get up!"

Jeff is your straight friend from college. The two of you go way back. In fact, he's the one who got you into working out in the first place. You'd even admit that you had a crush on him once. It's hard not to when he keeps himself in such good shape, but he's a classic lady's man. He knows about your sexuality, but he hates talking about it with you.

And now he's doing the most sensual crawl on all fours towards you, the muscles of his back rippling as he stares daggers into your soul. What the hell is he thinking? The entire gym can see him!

"Hey, sir," he pants as he catches his breath below you.

"Jeff, get off the floor. This isn't funny."

"But why, sir? This is how men are supposed to talk to you," he explains, looking genuinely confused.

"Why the hell are you calling me 'sir' Jeff?"

You snort in disbelief. What the hell is any of this supposed to mean? Your old friend has to be pulling a joke on you, but he's not the kind of guy to tease you like this. Something about this feels wrong, but you can't deny that seeing Jeff like this is getting you a hard.

Your phone starts ringing. Reluctantly you turn from Jeff, leaving the man to wait on his knees patiently as you answer the phone. It's your boyfriend Andrew, an ex-superhero. He got kicked out of the League of Heroes for misusing his abilities. You immediately suspect he's the one behind this weird conversation with Jeff.

"Happy birthday, babe!" your boyfriend screams over the line.

"Andrew, what did you do?"

"Why are you acting so mad?" Andrew whines back, "This is my gift for your birthday. Your going to love it! For the next twenty-four hours every man in town will think it's normal to get down and kneel when they talk to you. Hot, right?"

"So everyone's like this? Really?"

You storm past Jeff, abandoning your buddy on his knees in the middle of the gym, and rush outside.

"Yup! What's the point of having reality-altering powers if I can't use them as your birthday gift. And feel free to cause whatever mischief you want! These guys are going to be completely submissive and respectful to you once they drop to their knees."

"Andrew, what am I supposed to do with this?" you shake your head.

"Just remember that everything you command is permanent! Have fun!"

With that, your boyfriend hangs up. You stand in the street for a moment, gathering your thoughts and wondering how you're supposed to "have fun." Then you notice the construction site next door. Those assholes have been blocking the main entrance to the gym with their trucks for weeks, but they haven't made any progress. Every time you've seen them, they've just been lounging around and cracking jokes instead of working.

"Hey you!" you call, stepping up to a worker as he smokes a cigarette by a pile of rubble.

When he turns his attention to you, a haze seemed to fall over his eyes. The burly laborer lowers himself to his knees and gazes up to you.

"Yeah, sir?"

"Right, um... you're not going to smoke anymore. It's unhealthy."

"I'll quit smoking, sir," he replies, throwing the thing in the dirt, and mashing it out with a gloved fist.

"And you need to work faster," you demand awkwardly, "I'm tired of looking at this eye-sore every morning!"

"Yes, sir. We really haven't been taking this job very seriously," he admits, "Let me find the contractor. I'll try and convince him to get everyone to get back to work."

"Just bring them all to me," you command.

"You all will work tirelessly to get this job done as soon as you can. Got it?" you yell to the group of construction workers kneeling in front of you, "Overtime, weekends, anything, I don't care. Get it done!"

"Yes, sir!" the men answer in unison.

You gaze at the small crowd of obedient laborers kneeling at your feet. Andrew's gift has sure made them docile. These guys seemed so rude and harsh before. The women in the gym were definitely scared to cross by alone. It'd be nice if they stayed as nice and complacent as they are now.

"You all are going to be respectful and kind to anyone that passes. Instead of the catcalls and nasty comments, you'll only shout out compliments and words of encouragement. Now, get back to work."

"Yes, sir!" the men once again bark in unison, before jumping up from their knees and scrambling to their posts.

For the first time in weeks, the machinery is actually on and being used. They seem focused on the tasks at hand, which is very different from the lazy and rude men you avoided this morning. It looks like you actually did some good with your boyfriend's gift.

Hopping in your car, you speed downtown until sirens signal for you to pull over.

"Great!" you groan sarcastically.

You watch from your sideview mirror as a handsome man in uniform steps out of the police cruiser. He already has a pen and paper in hand to write you a ticket. He seems awfully excited to reprimand you. Cops like this have always infuriated you.

You don't wait for him to approach. Instead, you jump out of your vehicle and call out to him.

"Hey cop! Hurry up and just get over here!"

The same fog creeps over this man's expression as he hears your call. The officer drops to his knees and crawls across the sidewalk, dragging his neatly ironed pants over the pavement.

"Good morning, sir," he meekly states at your feet, "Um, do you know how fast you were going?"

"No," you scoff, "And I don't frankly care."

The cop clears his throat before saying, "Sir, I'm going to have to give you this ticket."

"No you don't. I don't deserve that."

"Your right, sir," he mumbles in response, " I don't know why I thought you did. Can I be of service in any other way, sir?"

You look at the handsome policeman on his knees. For a second, you consider telling him to strip and bend over. Nothing sounds better than using this arrogant cop to get off, but you hesitate. Andrew may have given you this gift today, but you're not sure you want to abuse it just yet.

"No, just give me an escort to my office. Turn your sirens on."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," he nods jumping back into his cruiser.

With the blaring sirens and cop car leading your way, you make it to work in record time. Before you dismiss the cop, you step up to his car window and duck your head in.

"If you ever see me out in public again, I want you to approach me and ask if you can give me another police escort. It's the least you can do," you explain.

"I can do that, sir," the officer nods emphatically.

"Oh and, from now on, officer, everyone you pull over is going to irresistibly attractive. It could be an old, fat man, but if he's behind the wheel, you'll fall head over heels. They might just convince you to forget the ticket, but maybe they'll want more. Who knows?"

With a wave of the hand, you send the cop on his way. He won't be able to write tickets for a very long time.

You smile giddily as you turn back to your office building. You may have taken the day off, but your boss is still there. Marching in and up to your company's floor, you find the man yelling at one of your coworkers in the middle of the office.

This is typical behavior for him. He's notorious for being short-tempered, foul-mouthed, and demanding on all his subordinates.

"Boss!"

"Sir," his voice is suddenly quiet as he trembles to his knees.

"Give me a raise. At least triple my salary," you demand.

Your coworkers watch quietly in fascination, but none of them seem all that surprised by your outburst. Andrew really must have made it completely normal for you to speak this way to other men. They all seem to think this is the natural order of things.

"I'd love to, sir, but our budget is maxed out as it is. We just don't have the money," he explains from the floor.

You frown, but then a brilliant idea comes to your head.

"Then trade. I want your salary and benefits, and you can take mine," you explain.

"I can do that, sir," he agrees, "Does that mean you want to take on a more managerial role?"

"Definitely not, old man," you chuckle, "I'll leave that to you. Just give me all the benefits and none of the responsibility. In fact, why don't you pick up the slack in my position. I shouldn't have to come in more than two days a week."

"That makes complete sense, sir," he responds.

"Go ahead and finalize the details," you command, "And give me my first paycheck early. It is my birthday after all."

"Yes, sir. Happy birthday," he smiles before crawling back into his office.

Falling into your chair triumphantly, you think about how your boyfriend has given you quite the best birthday. It's far from over. You have twenty-four hours and you've only spent three. How are you going to spend the rest of the day?

Maybe you should take a few more liberties with the men you are controlling. Andrew did tell you to have fun after all...

[deangirlsstuff67]

Birthday Boy

Jensen Ackles x reader

Warnings: Drinking, P in V, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Oral (m and f receiving), Squirting, Dirty talk

Summary: Jensen has given up on finding his happily ever after. Now that he's 45 he just doesn't see the point anymore. Jared, Misha, and the SPN cast take him out on the town to celebrate and lift his spirits. That's when he looks eyes with a beautiful woman. After one too many whiskeys they go back to his place, where he learns age is only a number.

Authors note: I love Jensen and his family. I mean them no disrespect. This is set in set in a world where Jensen is single. This is a work of fiction for nothing more than entertainment.

Masterlist | Patreon

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We walk into a bar that Jared and I found when we first came to Vancover for season one. The small, dingy, dive bar is a hidden gem that we have visited many times. Whether it was marriage, divorce, birthdays, or deaths, these four walls hold many memories for the supernatural cast and crew.

The group of us find a couple empty tables and take a seat. A lovely blonde waitress makes her way over for our drink order. Tonight we are celebrating my 45th birthday.

Getting older isnt as bad as your younger self believes. It's like a prize for surviving all the bullshit of your 20s. You no longer care what people think of you. You can go to bed early if you want without being judged. And you make the transition from hot and sexy, to handsome and distinguished.

I can't complain.

The blonde makes her way back with a tray of our drinks. Tonight we have Jared, Misha, Rob, Rich, Kim, Brianna, Mark, and Ruth with us.

She hands me my whiskey double. A sexy, flirty smile lights up her face for the brief moment we lock eyes so I can thank you. I smile politely back at the young lady. Seriously, I could be her dad.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three whiskey doubles in, laughs and smiles floating around our table, I got to say this has turned out to be a good night. Jared leans over and speaks directly in my ear so I can hear over the music coming from the speakers, "dont look now but you got a y/h/c who cant keep her eyes away from you."

Great, cue eye roll. Women have been nothing but problematic for me. They either want fame, money, connections, or someone I know. I've given up in that department.

Way too old for that shit.

"It's not going to kill you to have a look man." Jared sighs dramatically at me.

"You never know, it might." But it's too late my interest is peaked. I'm a sucker for a y/h/c. I slowly scan the bar until I lock eyes with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Well shit.

She's younger than me, though I don't know by how much. Casually dressed in blue jeans that hug her curves perfect and a over sized ACDC t-shirt tucked into all the right places. She simple smiles and raises her glass of amber liquor in a silent toast.

I can feel the corners of my lips curve as I toast her back. Then as quickly as the moment settled between us, it was gone and she took her friends arm as they walked out the front doors.

Dammit.

"Man I'm sorry," Misha looks over at me, "she looked interested."

Rich comes to sit on our side of the table, "ĥows the birthday boy doing?"

"Thought he was ging to get lucky tonight, but she left." Jared whisper yells. I can't stop the eye roll, the more he drinks the more of a man child he becomes.

This bit of information intrigues Rich, "you meanthe pretty y/h/c that’s walked back in?" He says with a sly smirk resting on his face.

We all watch as she glides up to the bar to speak with the young man playing bartender tonight. I can't tear my eyes away from her or how her hips sway with every step. She's a work of art. Curves in all the right places, looks like she eats more than salad. I swear she's every man's wet dream come true.

She turns and smirks as she makes her way over to our table with a tray of shot glasses, a knowing look sparkling in her y/e/c eyes. I feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment knowing she caught us all gawking at her.

Placing the tray down in front of the four of us, she picks up a shot and tips hers ead back to drain her glass. I watch as she swallows the liquid, swallowing down the dirty thoughts it promotes in my whiskey soaked brain.

"Happy Birthday Beautiful, now drink." She passes over a shot, which I take without hesitation. I drain the glass, the burn of vodka ever present in my throat, before finding my voice.

"How do you..."

She answer before I can finish my thought, "I'm a fan. Don’t worry it's not in a creepy stalker kind of way. I just couldnt pass up the opportunityto buy my favorite actor a shot on his birthday." She shrugs before taking another shot. There's something sexy about a woman who can hold her liquor.

"I'm y/n by the way." She turns to leave, before she can take a step I get out of my seat and wrap her in a hug, pulling her close to my chest.

Beautiful y/e/c irises stare into mine as she searches for the reason behind the embrace. Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear I softly smile down at her, "I want you to stay."

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"Shit, I dropped the keys." Y/N is wrapped around my body, pressed against the door to my apartment. Trying to unlock a door while having a beautiful woman kissing down my neck is more than distracting.

After some struggle we fall into my apartment. Guiding her backwards towards my room, hitting walls along the way. We haven't stopped kissing since getting into the cab at the bar.

She's addictive. Her taste. Her smell. I need this woman.

Breaking apart she sauntered to my bed, stripping her clothes along the way. My cock is throbbing in the jeans I'm wearing, begging for me to release it.

She crawls onto my bed positioning herself in a kneeling position. Legs spread wide showing just how dripping wet she is for me. Slowly I remove my clothing, watching as she plays with herself waiting for me. My cock drips with pre cum in anticipation. Knowing just how hot and bothered I made her with limited touching gets me high.

Walking towards the bed, y/n meets me at the edge. I stare down at her as she lowers herself before locking a strip from the base of my cock to the tip. Groaning I throw my head back at the sensation.

After a few minutes of kitten licks, y/n takes me in her mouth the first go. Straight to the base and swallowing around me. My hips jerk, hands rake through her long hair as I hold on. She's blowing my freaking mind, "Darling, I'm not going to last." She swirls her tongue around the head of my shaft, it almost does me in.

"Sweetheart... y/n... you have to stop... please"

She comes off my cock with a loud 'pop', smiling up at me while wiping her mouth.

Fuck that's hot.

Pushing her in the chest I force her to lay on the bed, "my turn," kissing my way down her soft curves to her sweet spot, wet and waiting for me.

Inhaling her sweet scent, making my head spin, "you smell delicious baby girl." Then I dive in like man starved.

Alternating between broad strokes and sucking her clit. I smile I to her center as I watch the bliss out look on her face as she shakes and squirms beneath me. Whatever I was feeling about getting older has been drowned out by her moans and whimpers as I bring to the edge before backing off, over and over again.

Rising above her tasting her on my lips, I learn down taking her mouth with mine, sharing her sweetness. My fingers trail down her body before pludging into her hot, wet center. My pace is fast as I curl my fingers, finding her g spot.

Her body jerks forward as she let's out a beautifully loud moan before I feel her soaking my hand, wrist, and thighs, "fuck darling, did you just squirt?"

Pink colors her cheeks while she looks away from me. "Hey, dont be embarassed. That's the sexiest thing I've ever experienced. " I kiss her deeply as I feed my shaft into her quivering walls. What an amazing feeling that is.

Looking down I watch her body struggle to take my girth as I bottom out inside her. Staying still to allow her to adjust before I slowly withdraw to my tip and slowly sink back into her warmth. My room is filled with nothing but moans from her, groans from me, and the wet squelched noise as our bodies become one.

Our rhythm is steady as we use our bodies to bring the other pleasure with each thrust. One, two, three more thrusts and y/n is pushing me out of her before she soaks my thigh and cock in her essence again. It's what tips me over the age as I shove myself back in making her gasp before emptying myself into my own personal heaven.

Sweat covered, limbs shaking, breathe labored, I collapse beside her after pulling out. Wrapping my arms around her I bring her into my chest as we come down from our highs together.

"That was amazing darling."

"Mhm... it was" her sleepy voice whispers into my body.

I hold her as she drifts to sleep in my arms. Happiness washes over me. I don't know her but something about this woman has intertwined deep in my soul. I look down at her kissing her forehead, "I hope this becomes more... "

I close my eyes as sleep takes me.

[thehaemanthus]

of two hearts one heart make we

It is the right of Rhysand, consort to the New Queen Amarantha, to take all Omegas in the land as his. Feyre, even at the altar, cannot escape this fate. Nor, it seems, can her sisters. Part 1 of 2. Feysand, with Rhysand/Nesta and Rhysand/Elain. Dubious consent, A/B/O, voyeurism, AU. Dead dove I don't wanna see none of y'all making noise about "eww, Rhys and Nesta"

yeah yeah yeah, the week is over, I'm agonizing over this and it's not done. But here's a part one for @acotar-omegaverse-week

I'm too scared to post this on AO3 that's how you know this is insane and the premise is weak. But, unfortunately, I wrote it and I think it's hot

Title from "The Heart that Loveth Me", which I'm not even sure is a real poem because the only place I can find it is a blog?

It was quite a leap to go from orphan girl on the fringe of society to Lady of the land, and if all went well today Feyre would be successful in taking that step. 

Already, the days had seemed like a dream. From the moment the Lord spied her washing off in a stream— a faerie come to tempt him— to the quick proposal of marriage to her wedding day. But Lord Tamlin knew what he wanted, and who was she to question him? He got a wife, she received a belly full of food, a warm bed for her and her sisters, and a decent man. Feyre was uncommonly lucky. 

Handmaidens brushed her hair and dabbed scented oil on her skin. Nesta and Elain watched, sitting at the other end of the room. The dark wood and gray stone showed its age, and the room smelled smoky from the centuries of fires made in its great hearth. The crackle of the fire and the scrape of the brush through Feyre’s hair were the only sounds in the room. Elsewhere, the chapel attached to the palace was filling with noble guests. 

“What if he shows up?” The words spilled from Feyre’s mouth. Her eyes met Nesta’s in the looking glass.

“He won’t,” a matronly woman said. She was here to supervise the handmaidens. “This is a joyous day, child.” 

Nesta wasn’t as convinced. “How many guards in this palace?” 

“Many,” the matron nearly snaps Nesta’s nose off. “Four shall be assigned to the bride. Two each for you and your sister.” 

If he did show up, that might not be enough. No one states the obvious. 

It’s not long before she stands at the door to the room, wary of sitting should something be knocked askew. Feyre has never seen anyone wear this much cream and gold. How many bellies could be fed with the silver it took to pay for such a gown that glows in the sunlight? The wildflowers in her hair, in contrast, were plucked by her own sisters in the fields outside the wall.

Outside. Feyre is glad to be marrying Tamlin, for she will no longer have to go outside to hunt and scavenge. She will no longer be allowed to romp through the mud and bathe in streams. Really, she would be surprised if she were allowed to leave the confines of the palace. 

“This is a bad idea.”

“Nesta!” It’s only the three sisters and a chambermaid in the room, but Elain still glances around like the groom himself will step out of the shadows. 

Their oldest sister crosses her arms. “You don’t know for sure that he will continue to let you take the necessary precautions. You place too much trust in a man you don’t know well enough. Worse, you endanger our lives.”

Elain shakes her head. “Feyre is saving our lives—”

“If we stay in this household,” Nesta barrels forward. “Even if we are given a holding of our own, there will be servants. It is too hard to keep this quiet when you are never alone, Feyre!”

“Why should you keep it quiet?” She fiddles with the posy in her hands. “Do you not think my husband can protect all of us?”

Nesta sneers. “No, I do not, and neither do you!”

Feyre does not get a chance to respond. A knock followed by the door swinging open signals the end of their time together. A page boy nods shallowly. “Please follow me.”

There is no one to walk Feyre down the aisle. Once, she had a wealthy father and a mother that was so desired, her dowry included enough silver and jewels to make a queen envious. Feyre and her sisters were the prettiest pieces in their mother’s collection, until of course the wealth was squandered. Then, all they became were potential victims. But Feyre didn’t get her sisters this far to give up now. Marriage to Tamlin, who knows her nature, is safe. This is the station she had always been meant for. 

It doesn't mean she had to like it. 

The chapel is filled with incense and unfamiliar faces. Tapestries dangle on the stone walls, giving some life to the dim room. Outside is Feyre’s old life, all muddy streets and thatched roofs and backbreaking work and secrets. Here, here is her future as a wealthy, kept woman. 

Feyre makes it to the end of the aisle, smiling shyly at Tamlin. She barely knows this lord, but he’s been kind and respectful. A life with him will be blessed. Her sisters followed her down the aisle, but now shift to the side. The priest smiles. His silly hat looks sillier because he acts so serious. 

“Honored guests, thank you for joining us for this most auspicious union—”

The sound of boots on stone echoes through the chapel. Feyre turns, and her stomach sinks. The figure that emerges from the shadows is tall and broad, a dark spot in the light chapel with garlands of white flowers. 

“I have an objection.” She’s never seen this man before in her life, but there’s only one person he could be. “That, right there, is an Omega female. The laws of this land state all Omegas are to be presented before me. Why wasn’t she?” 

“Leave,” Tamlin snarls. “You cannot steal my bride—“

“I could steal her if she was wed, bed, and with child.” The man stalks down the aisle. “I am the lord of these lands.”

Tamlin releases of her hands and rests his hand on the pommel of his sword. “No, I am—“

“You are a vassal,” the man says, stopping in front of them. He is dressed in black. His boots are nearly spotless, impressive considering he would have had to ride to get here. The great black cloak over his tunic and leather jerkin adds to his already imposing size. “Your father lost these lands, and you sit here in your decaying splendor because I allow it.” 

Feyre freezes as those violet eyes turn to her. The world is crashing down around her, but there is only silence beyond the roaring in her ears. 

“Your name, lady,” he mocks her. It is not an Alpha order, not yet. But there is enough iron in his words to make her confidence quake. 

Her mouth is dry, and her voice is soft when she says, “I don’t belong to you.”

“Not yet,” he smiles, but it’s not a kind one. “But every Omega in the lands I control has the potential to.” He circles her, and Feyre tries to follow him with her gaze. Then he reaches out, one arm wrapped around her waist as his hand grips her jaw. His chest pressed against her back, and he must be hunched over because she feels smothered. 

Feyre shudders as he breathes her in. “She smells delicious Tamlin, here take a sniff— ah, I forgot. You can’t.” 

She squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. Maybe it all has been a dream so far, because this surely cannot be real. She would not believe it was real, save for the iron grip, the hard body pressed against hers, and the unmistakable smell of an Alpha. Something in her begins to scream and sigh. 

Her eyes snap open as he hauls her backward. “I might have been lenient if you informed me and notified me of your intentions to wed the Omega. Especially because she has sisters.”

From nowhere, other men dressed in black flood the chapel. Guests, previously frozen, panic and scramble like ants in a disturbed anthill. 

Feyre’s knees nearly give out as two men zero in on her sisters. Nesta begins to fight, which reminds her that she should, too. Clearly, her captor didn’t expect it. She wretches one arm free, and in the commotion finds another hand. 

The startling red hair and distinctive eyepatch identifies Tamlin’s seneschal, Lucien. He yanks, but it’s not enough. She feels like a toy between the two men, crying out in pain until she’s twisted, a hand in her hair forcing her to look at Tamlin. His face is pale, fury making his tense jaw twitch. The crown of flowers lies on the ground, trampled. 

“Fight me if you want, Tamlin.” This monster doesn’t even sound winded. Feyre wilts. “You know the consequences.”

Somehow, Lucien keeps a grip on her wrist. It tightens. If they coordinate, they can work together to get her away—

“Go,” Tamlin’s lip curls. “I cannot stop you from being a monster. So be it.”

Lucien snarls. “Tamlin, you cannot—”

“Let her go, Lucien.” Feyre’s husband-to-be turns his back. “One woman, or a war we cannot win. Were I not a leader burdened with these decisions…”

The man behind her snorts quietly, but Feyre hears it. It shocks her from her surprise. “Tamlin?” Surely he cannot mean that. He was going to marry her. His flowery words— she can’t remember all of them, but did they not amount to some type of love? 

“Expect to see one of my representatives soon,” the man behind her says. “You broke the law, Tamlin.”

Feyre does not see anything but the back of her beloved. Even as they leave the room, even as she is carried from the palace, his hunched shoulders are imprinted in her mind. The sight is stronger when they place a blindfold over her eyes. 

Elain sniffles somewhere next to her. Nesta is quiet, and Feyre is glad. Her eldest sister has the right to say “I told you so”. 

With a marriage to a local lord, Feyre was supposed to secure safety and security for her and her Omega sisters. But the opposite, it seems, has happened. For everyone knows that to be an Omega captured by Rhysand, consort of the New Queen Amarantha, is to be lost forever. 

—

The day Feyre showed the first signs of presenting was the happiest of her life. 

She was young, only nine, but a nursemaid caught a scent of something. A physician was quickly called, and the diagnosis was confirmed. Feyre Archeron was the third Omega daughter born to her Alpha parents, nearly unheard of. 

Her mother brought Feyre and her sisters to her chambers. She sat, gazing at her daughters with what Feyre thought was pride. It was simple avarice. But when she was nine and had missed the affection of a mother for so long, any look sent her way was treasured. 

“My girls,” her mother had cooed. “We shall find rich, powerful husbands for you. Only Alphas. You will be the wives of kings and princes, mark my words.” 

For a woman who, due to common blood, failed to rise higher than a wealthy merchant, blue blood for her daughters would be the fulfillment of her own dream. Feyre followed the instructions of her mother and the example of her sisters. Dread wound its way around her like ivy, growing to constrict Feyre more with each passing year. 

It fell apart rather quickly. Mother died. Father, lost in his grief, lost their money in the tumult of the New Queen’s conquest. Father died. They had no money, just a maid who left them with some final parting advice. 

Being a penniless Omega is not a blessing in this world. A whorehouse, a vessel to be used by Alpha soldiers with an itch to scratch. Or a slave in some distant household. The possibilities run through Feyre’s mind as she stands, shivering with fear. They sat in the cart long enough for the chill of night to fall and for her ass to fall asleep. 

She thought they might be inside a tent. It was marginally warmer, and there was no breeze. Steps near her make her flinch a moment before the blindfold rips away. She squints, seeing her sisters on either side of her.

“Lord Tamlin broke the laws of this land when he failed to report three Omegas living in his territory.” Through her lashes and the pieces of hair falling in her face, Feyre sees Rhysand. He is the consort of the New Queen, but no one has ever called him king or prince. He is simply Rhysand, the sword that the New Queen wields. Feyre does not know where he came from, only that he is known for his violence, his dominance as an Alpha, and for rounding up Omegas. 

He studies them now, satisfaction poorly concealed on his face. Hate rises in Feyre’s belly. Hate is easier than fear.

“I am impressed you managed to hide for this long.” His gaze roves over all of them. Feyre fights the urge to squirm. Already, the large tent fills with his scent. Alpha. Protector. Powerful. Dangerous, her mind tries to say. Perfect, her nose tells her. 

One moment she is lost in the haze, and in the next a sharp point of a knife digs into her throat. Feyre struggles for only a second before freezing.

Nesta’s bound hands grip the knife. Her arms wrap around Feyre from the back, but it’s the point of the knife against her skin that keeps Feyre still.

“You will not have us.” Her sister’s voice shakes with rage, and maybe fear. 

Her sister. Nesta has a knife— hid it away somehow? Now she is poised to kill Feyre. Across the small space, Rhysand is on his feet, eyes narrowed.

“Nesta?” Elain whimpers.

“I won’t allow you to touch my sisters,” Nesta says, voice rough with fury. The knife digs a little deeper. 

Feyre’s breathing picks up. Nesta will kill her. Nesta is going to hurt her—

Rhysand’s powerful voice does not increase in volume, but Feyre feels her mind drawn to him anyway. “Put the knife down.” Something has changed in his tone. It is an order.

Nesta falters a bit before recovering.

“What do you think will happen?” Rhysand prowls forward, honey in his voice. The blast of his Alpha’s power floods the small space. “You will try to kill your sister. I will strike as you do, removing the weapon from your hands. Then you are weaponless. As the youngest of you lies bleeding, I will call for my healers. Do you know how to kill, little warrior? Have you slaughtered the sheep for feasts or broken the neck of birds? Stand down, Omega.” 

Nesta inhales sharply. Feyre can feel the tremor run through her. The tip of the knife scrapes Feyre’s neck. Her sister screeches, and then Nesta is gone.

The relief and shock brings Feyre to her knees. She inhales as if she’d been strangled. Behind her, Nesta shouts abuses. Feyre glances over her shoulder, where two large men restrain her oldest sister and wrestle the knife away. 

“It was a noble attempt,” Rhysand says, turning his back and sitting down. “Now, let me tell you what is about to happen.”

Elain shuffles towards Feyre. The silence as her sister helps her to her feet feels like mockery. When they are all standing, and in Nesta’s case restrained, Rhysand speaks. “We ride for the nearest monastery, where you will be kept with other Omegas in my care. You will not complain, you will not try to run. Am I clear?”

What else is there to do but glare? Even Elain does not speak or nod. 

Rhysand continues, unfazed. “You are my Omegas now. I will take certain steps to maintain your wellbeing, which means I need information. When were your last heats?”

A blush blooms on Feyre’s skin, so deep she must be radiating warmth. Elain makes a small noise, looking down at her feet. These are not things one talks about, certainly not with a male stranger. The silence stretches. 

“Answer me.” The honey is back in Rhysand’s voice, laced with iron. “How long ago was your last heat? Is one approaching?”

Feyre wishes she had an answer for him. Embarrassment starts to be eclipsed by fear. The words wait on her tongue. If she opens her mouth and tells him, this Alpha will approve of her. She should want his approval. 

“How did you conceal yourselves?” A new voice says, one of the men holding Nesta. His voice is smokey, and his eyes are narrowed. Their silence gives him room to speak. “Was it Widow’s Milkweed?”

Something gives them away. Maybe it’s the way Elain’s eyes turn especially doe-ish when she lies, maybe it’s the slight twitch from Feyre, maybe it’s the way Nesta puffs up at any criticism— but now they know.

The other man holding Nesta hisses. “Fuck.”

“Indeed.” The honey is gone from Rhysand’s voice. “When was your last dose?”

Again, they are silent. They do not have that luxury for long. Faster than Feyre can process, Rhysand hauls her close with one hand fisted in the neckline of her gown. Elain cries out, clawing at Feyre with bound hands. 

Up close, his violet eyes are mesmerizing and terrifying. “Your sister was ready to kill you to spare you the fate of becoming an Omega plaything. Do not spit on that attempt. If you value yourself at all, tell me when you took the last dose of Widow’s Milkweed.”

The words spill from her mouth. “Four days ago.” Feyre’s voice does not shake, but it is soft. Four days ago, she was supposed to have taken the last sip of tea that would subdue her heats. Tamlin wasn’t an Alpha, but Betas could see Omegas through heats, too. That’s what he told her. 

Rhysand releases her, stalking away. He is a dangerous predator, pacing in the enclosed space. “And you two?”

Elain and Nesta exchange looks, but it’s Elain who speaks. “Tamlin moved us into his household at the same time as Feyre. He didn’t want us taking Widow’s Milkweed. We had planned to take a dose right after the wedding—”

Rhysand slashes his hand through the air, silencing Elain. 

“Rhys—”

“I know, Azriel.” The expression on his face chills Feyre like nothing else has. Rhysand is in charge here. He is the monster. An Alpha in control should never look this unsteady.

“Widow’s Milkweed is incredibly dangerous,” he says. “By tomorrow…maybe sooner, your scents will change and you’ll be shedding pheromones like leaves in autumn. All of my Alpha soldiers will converge on you like a pack of dogs. There is no telling when your heats will develop.” 

“You said there was a monastery.” Monasteries were populated exclusively by Betas and the Omegas they sheltered. They were centers of healing, spirituality, and knowledge. Isolated and hard to reach, they were purposefully built to keep Alphas at bay. 

But Rhysand dashes Feyre’s hopes. “The closest is a week’s ride.”

“Our holding is closer.” The larger man who holds Nesta suggests. 

“Still too far,” Rhysand says. The silence in the tent gives Feyre nothing to do but think. Maybe he’ll decide the effort is not worth it and throw them to his men. A shiver goes through her. 

Finally, he speaks. “You will allow me to scent mark all of you.”

The other men in the room seem shocked, but Rhysand speaks before they can. “You will remain maids, but I cannot claim your virtue will be intact. It will happen here, tonight. One least one of my men will be present to oversee the proceedings and ensure things don’t…get out of hand.”

“What—” Elain’s voice cracks. “What does scent marking mean?”

The men exchange a look. The one with a smokey voice, Azriel, shakes his head. “Save us from mothers and their misguided attempts to shelter their daughters.”

“Do you know what happens between an Alpha and Omega in the mating bed?” Rhysand asks. 

Feyre blushes. She is familiar with how farmyard animals act, but not people. Her knowledge amounts to something like she would feel strange, desire her alpha’s touch, and that her alpha would guide her through these desires. At the end of a few days, she would come out of her heat. In three season’s time, if she was lucky, there would be a baby. 

To her surprise, it’s Nesta who answers. “The alpha repeatedly gives the omega their seed, which results in a child.” 

The embarrassed silence reigns before the larger man clears his throat. “Well, that’s not wrong.” 

“The mixture of seed and slick produces its own powerful note in your usual scent, subtle but detectable,” Rhysand explains. “It’s not the same as the scent of a mated couple, but it does send a signal.”

The man leans forward. “You want to claim all three of them as yours?”

“Don’t,” Rhysand snaps. “They must all be mine, Cassian. If I hand the Omegas out like gifts, there will be fighting. We cannot afford discord.”

“It does add to his reputation,” Azriel says. “It’s not a bad idea, strategically.”

“We are not objects to be dealt with!” Nesta snaps. “You cannot claim all of us, the natural order of things will not allow it—”

“I make no claim,” Rhysand says. 

“How?” Feyre finds her voice. “I still don't understand. We have…slick, and you have seed. How do you combine these?” 

“He wants to lay with us,” Nesta spats.

Elain blanches. “You said we will be maids.”

Something about this must be amusing, because the men trade looks. That, of all things, finally makes Feyre snap. “No. We’ll…we can hide away somewhere.”

“On these plains, at this time of year, with these winds?” Rhysand jerks his head outside. “An Alpha will catch a scent within hours. This is not a debate.” His voice changes, and the words become commands. “You will bathe, change, and allow me to scent mark you. You will not fight and you will not argue.”

Inside, Feyre screeches. On the outside, she is silent. Her body relaxes, given directions by an Alpha. 

Definite chance of survival at the expense of laying with a monster, or hiding and hoping they are not found and raped or captured by someone else? 

If Rhysand had given them the choice, Feyre cannot say what she would have done. 

A bell should toll or a fierce wind should blow through the plains, a supernatural signal that a fate has been sealed. But it is quiet and still, the crackling of the one brazier in the tent undisturbed. 

Things move quickly after that. Rhysand’s men, Azriel and Cassian, hustle them to another larger tent. They do not speak, not to give orders or to taunt. Their tense faces and the looks they exchange do enough to silence the sisters. Feyre glances at the low bed covered in furs and the rugs on the floor, the flagon of wine and too many lit candles to waste all at once, before she dips behind a changing screen. They bathe with a pot of hot water and a cake of soap. 

“Change into these,” a gruff voice says from the other side of the screen. A moment later, a bundle of cream fabric flips over the top of the changing screen. As soon as Feyre takes one of the shirts, she knows they belong to Rhysand. The heady scent of Alpha drips from them, along with a clean scent of soap. 

For as long as Feyre has been a mature Omega, she has taken Widow’s Milkweed to suppress heats and keep her Omega scent dormant. That didn’t mean she was immune to Alphas. Their commands and their scent, their presence made her want to lay on her back or stick her nose into their necks to take in more. Sometimes the scent told her this was an Alpha that would wrap her in their arms, sometimes the scent told her to open her legs. Rhysand’s scent did everything, said everything that made her Omega soul sing. 

Was this why everyone said Rhysand was the most powerful Alpha in the land? That couldn’t be— Amarantha, the New Queen, was the real power. 

Feyre’s hands shook as she tugged the shirt on. It hung to her knees, and the neck was so large it nearly fell off of her shoulders. Beside her, Nesta and Elain did the same. Nesta’s movements were furious, while Elain’s were careful and purposeful. They were scared. They were all scared and showing it in different ways. But they could not disobey an order.

Nesta took her hand, the other gripping Elain, and dragged them out. “I will go first,” her sister declared. She pushed them to the low cushions and rug. “Sit.”

“Pushy, for an Omega,” Rhysand commented. Feyre jumped. How could she have forgotten he was there, playing with a glass of wine as he sat at the table with his men. 

Nesta does not respond, merely walks to the bed and sits on the edge. 

“Lay on your side,” Rhysand says. He begins to disrobe, and Feyre glances down to her hands. The sound of fabric shifting and dropping seems especially loud.

Nesta, stiff as a plank, lays on her side facing her sisters. Feyre is grateful she does not try to meet their gaze. She does not know if she would be able to keep it. Instead, Nesta stares somewhere above their heads.

Rhysand, clad only in a shirt, lays behind her. Nesta quivers, and Feyre has to look away again.

She cannot stop her ears from hearing, though. 

“The more you relax, the quicker this will be,” Rhysand says. Then it is quiet, save for the crackle of fire, the sound of breathing, and the rasp of skin on fabric. 

It might be a minute later than Nesta gasps. Feyre’s eyes widen, but she keeps them pinned down. Another moment, and a strange noise leaves her sister’s mouth. Feyre’s eyes look without her mind ordering them too. 

One of Rhysand’s arms curls beneath Nesta’s neck so that his hand can caress her breast under the shirt. The other hand traces slow circles low on Nesta’s stomach. Her sister has color high in her cheeks, eyes so wide they seem a little shocked. Her lip is caught between her teeth, though small sounds still escape. She grips the bedding under her like it is her salvation. 

Feyre watches the hand on her sister’s breast as the shirt slips. She’s seen her sisters nude— they are sisters and they have been poor more than they have been wealthy which amounts to little privacy. But not like this, as a man enjoys in her flesh. Rhysand’s fingers, dark against Nesta’s milk-white skin, pinch a pink nipple and Nesta jerks. 

“Shh, Omega,” Rhysand’s honey voice is back. A yawning ache opens in Feyre. “Relax.”

The hand on her stomach dips lower, under the hem of the shirt and then back up. Nesta makes a shocked sound, squirming. The hand on her breast turns restraining, and then Rhysand groans. 

A flood of heat washes through Feyre. She should look away again, but she cannot. 

“Hush,” Rhysand murmurs again. “Lift your leg, put it over mine— there. Good.” 

Feyre lists forward, yearning for his praise. Then she snaps out of it, taking a deep breath and looking away for a moment. She should not be feeling…any of this. But her eyes draw back to the scene in front of her anyway. 

The shirt blocks the view of what’s happening, but Feyre can tell Rhysand’s hand is moving between Nesta’s legs. Her sister starts to breathe rapidly, little strange gasps and mewls escaping her lips. Her eyes are still open and shocked, staring at the wall of the tent like she cannot believe what is happening to her. 

Feyre jumps when Nesta cries out, harsh and loud. Her body arches, toes curling. 

“That’s it.” Strain coats Rhysand’s voice. 

Nesta turns her face into the bedding, but she can’t muffle the little cries. Feyre shifts in her seat, eyes wide and breathing shallow. Is that what it is like to lie with a man? 

She thinks it is done, but is not prepared for Rhysand’s movements. The hand under Nesta’s shirt extricates itself. He fumbles with something between them before gripping the thigh Nesta has thrown over his own leg. Then he starts to move. 

The sound of something wet had been in the tent before, but now it is louder. Everything seems louder and harsher, from the pitiful cries of her sister to the grunting from Rhysand to the wet slap of skin. Feyre can see where Rhysand’s fingers dig into Nesta’s skin. Over Nesta’s shoulder, his eyes are closed and his brow is furrowed as if in pain. 

Then those violet eyes snap open. They lock on Feyre, and she can’t look away. She can’t look away as the man ruts into her sister like an animal. Her freedom comes when he bows his head forward. He jerks violently a handful of times before stilling. 

The quiet is awkward. Feyre’s breathing is too loud. She only becomes more uncomfortable when Rhysand dips his hand back between Nesta’s legs. It works there for a moment, drawing a hiss from Nesta, before roaming all over her body. 

The slick and the seed. That must be what it is, and now he spreads the scent on Nesta’s glands. Feyre shudders and is finally able to look away. Her hands shake a bit in her lap, and there’s a yawning feeling in her gut. Why does she want to cry?

“Stay here for a while,” Rhysand’s voice breaks the silence. “It takes a moment to come down.”

The words are not meant for her, but the reassuring Alpha brings Feyre back to equilibrium. This is a strong Alpha, and she shouldn’t feel so distressed in his presence. Even if he is ignoring her— 

“I am next,” Elain declares. The flash of anger and panic is enough to silence Feyre, though she doesn’t know what she would say if she could. Elain just squeezes Feyre’s hand and stands. She is numb as she watches her sisters switch places, as Nesta stumbles behind the changing screen with instructions to clean up a bit but not wipe away the evidence of what just happened. The scent needs to set in. 

Elain asks to face away from her sisters. Rhysand obliges. He too disappears behind the changing screen before laying behind Elain. Again, Feyre tries to look away. Again, she is unable to. Though covered by a long shirt, she is mesmerized by the play of the muscles in his back. Rhysand treats Elain the same he did with Nesta, slow caresses graduating to his hand between her legs. Elain’s slender leg trembles where it’s thrown over Rhysand, the only visible part of her sister. The rest is concealed by Rhysand’s bulk. From this view, Feyre can see how his body flexes. She stares at the way Elain’s bare leg rubs against Rhysand’s and wonders what it would be like, how the hairs on his legs would tickle her and how it would feel to touch that much coiled power. 

Then Elain crests with loud moans. Again, Rhysand grips her and starts moving. His shirt rides up, giving Feyre a few of his backside and something between his legs. His grunts are louder this time as he drives into Elain, as are Elain’s own whimpers. Soon, Rhysand slams his hips violently into Elain before stilling. Again, Feyre watches as he touches one of her sisters as she mewls. 

No one says anything for a while. Where Nesta was eager to stand as soon as she could, Elain seems frozen in place. 

“Azriel,” Rhysand says. His rough voice scrapes Feyre. “Help her up.”

There is no hesitation in Azriel’s movement as he assists Elain in standing and guides her to the changing screen, touching her no more than he has to. 

On the bed, Rhys rolls onto his back and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I might need a minute.”

That’s fine. Feyre isn’t sure she could stand if she wanted to, right now. After a minute of rustling fabric and the splash of water, Elain emerges. Head down, she scuttles to Feyre and Nesta and plants herself next to them. Elain settles, quickly squeezing Feyre’s shoulder before turning her face into Nesta’s shoulder.

Rhys rises from the bed and disappears behind the changing screen. 

“We did it, you can too.” Nesta prods her into movement. Slowly, Feyre stands and walks to the edge of the bed. There are wet spots staining the bedding, and the mixture of smells makes her stomach churn. There’s the familiarity of her sisters. It’s their scent, but somehow different. Those scents are mixed with the heady scent of her Alpha—

No. Of Rhysand. He might be an Alpha, but she would not give him that much power over her. 

“Are you ready?”

While she was staring at the bedding, Rhysand came to her side. She nearly jumps. Did he somehow get taller? She thought that, stripped of layers of clothing, he might seem a bit smaller and less intimidating. But he still looks like he could snap her in half. 

Feyre swallows roughly. “I want to be facing you.” She cannot say why she needs to, only that she does. Her sisters faced away, as if anyone could have been laying behind them. Feyre wants to face Rhysand and know. 

He studies her for a moment. “As you wish.” Then he whips the thick blanket off the top of the bed, tossing it carelessly on the floor. That’s all the invitation she’ll get. 

When Feyre climbs into the bed, it smells only of cleanliness and a bit of Rhysand. When he crawls in next to her, the scent increases. A fire ignites in Feyre’s belly. She is surprised the entire bed is not shaking, because she has never felt so unsteady as she clumsily rolls onto her side. 

“Hush,” Rhysand says. “Deep breath.” 

There is no question of following his orders. Here is her Alpha, the one to lead her through these strange feelings and soothe her discomfort. His face is all she can see, his scent all she smells. His hand swallows her thigh as he brings it over his hip. Feyre breaths so rapidly she feels lightheaded.

The hand on her thigh trails up. Ferye shivers as he grazes the skin of her inner thigh. And then he touches her. Pleasure shoots through her, something in her core squeezes and aches. Her hand shoots out to clutch at Rhysand’s shoulder. She needs to rip the shirt away and feel skin.

Rhysand’s hand freezes. They stare at each other, both a little shocked. Feyre should not be touching him like this. But why not? 

Rhysand hauls her closer, so close they breathe into each other’s mouths. The calluses of his hand rasp against her thigh as he drags his fingers back down her thigh, then up again, caressing her before trailing up, up, between her legs. Feyre shudders and gasps. Through half-lidded eyes, she sees Rhysand lean in, eyes locked on her mouth.

One thick finger traces the seam between her legs, sensitive and nearly ticklish. Her eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed by every sensation. But Rhysand’s penetrating violet gaze holds her. She is his prisoner. 

Feyre should be more upset about that, but she is not. She is an Omega in an Alpha’s bed, and there is nothing more right. 

Rhysand’s hand applies more pressure, dipping into her wet heat. Feyre digs her nails into his shoulder, bucking a bit.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, nose brushing hers. “Relax, Omega.”

Then his fingers move, and oh. Feyre would squirm out of his grasp if not for the grip he keeps on her. She does not feel embarrassed by the sounds his fingers make in her slick, nor the way she bucks, nor the audience. She is not aware of anything more than the pleasure her Alpha gives her, the way he smells, the sweet encouragement he offers her. His words fall from his mouth into hers. 

“You were made for this.” His voice is strained. “Made for an Alpha—”

“Yes,” Feyre moans. How can she disagree?

The fingers circling the sensitive spot between her thighs pick up their speed. Unintelligible noises leave Feyre’s lips. She needs— she needs something more. The gland on her neck itches, and unthinkingly she contorts to present her neck. 

She wants the bite there, but Rhysand growls and nips her jaw instead. Feyre cries in dismay, cut off by his lips covering hers. 

If his scent was delicious, the taste of this man is even better. Pleasure bursts in Feyre, but her cry is muffled by Rhysand’s mouth. She squirms, overwhelmed and satisfied but still needing more. She is so empty. He pets her a bit more before his hand is gone, followed by his mouth. 

“No,” she whines.

“Quiet,” Rhysand snaps. He’s looking down, fumbling with his shirt. Sweat gleams on his furrowed brow. Feyre only sees a glimpse of his manhood before he tugs her close. Something hot and thick slips between her legs, easily sliding in the slick that trails down Feyre’s thighs. A surprised gasp leaves her lips. 

Rhysand bares his teeth, holding her close with one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other hand digging into her ass. Somehow, she ends up with her face pressed into his neck. Then he moves. Hot skin slides against hers. Rhysand’s thick manhood rubs the sensitive flesh between her legs. His hand was pleasurable, but this is sinful. 

Feyre tightens her leg around Rhysand. She needs to be closer. She needs this Alpha to soothe the fire in her, pin her down, fill her with seed and children—

She wants to be his, and make sure the world knows she is kept by him. He does not have a mating gland like she does, but that does not stop her from biting the tendon on his neck. 

Rhysand growls and the world spins. Feyre finds herself on her back, smothered by a man who might weigh as much as two of her. She can barely breath, and when she can all she smells is slick and seed, Rhysand and Feyre. 

Heavy hips slam into hers as Rhysand continues to drive himself through Feyre. She hiccups between cries, face wet with overwhelmed tears. This is not enough. He surrounds her, but he needs to be in her and cure her of the loss Feyre never knew she carried inside. 

Then he rears up. Feyre whimpers at the loss of connection, the sudden cold that intrudes in all the heat. Rhysand looks between her legs, using one hand to wrench her leg up and open. Feyre’s shirt has ridden up to under her breasts, displaying her to his gaze. She watches, mesmerized, as Rhysand takes himself in hand and pumps, gaze locked between Feyre’s legs. His manhood is dark, lined with veins until it bulges at the base, his knot. 

He grunts, continuing to stroke himself as his manhood spits something white— his seed— onto Feyre. She jerks in surprise, only able to watch as the seed splatters the place in between her legs and her lower stomach. 

Her breathing sounds too loud in her ears. She wants to reach out and pull Rhysand back down, let him smother her. This Alpha marked her, but did not claim her. It’s not right. She must have done something incorrectly—

“Good girl,” Rhysand rasps. The hand that was holding her leg open relaxes its grip, stroking. It soothes the anxious part of Feyre. “You did well, Omega.” 

She nods, hissing as Rhysand dips his fingers back between her legs. She bucks as he rubs, mixing slick and seed. Those fingers should dip inside her, that seed belongs in her womb—

“Almost done,” he murmurs, reaching up to paint the mixture on her mating gland. “You’ve been a good girl, just stay still for a little longer.”

It is not an order, but Feyre melts into the bed anyway. She would do anything for his approval. 

Too soon, he tugs her shirt back down over her thighs and stands from the bed. The world comes rushing back in. 

“Rhysand,” Cassian says, an Alpha rumble under lacing his unhappy tone. Fear rockets through Feyre. It is dangerous to be surrounded by unhappy Alphas. 

Rhysand raises a hand. “Later. Get them seen to first.”

“He’s right,” Azriel murmurs. As he did for Elain, he helps Feyre up from the bed. She allows him to, acting as she thinks she ought to but not as she wants to. She gets clean, follows Rhysand’s men to another tent with three simple bed rolls, nods at instructions not to bathe until the morning to let the scent set in.

The night is dark, but cannot shelter them from the crackle of fires outside nor the quiet conversations of men. Inside their small tent, the noise from outside is enough to provide a buffer as the sisters slip into bed, silent. Feyre cannot even meet their eyes.

She does not know what Elain or Nesta might be feeling. She hopes it isn’t a burning desire to jump back into Rhysand’s bed. She hopes they don’t feel like they are being torn apart inside from lust and shame. 

[comicaurora]

Hey! So I have a trope question

Something I’ve noticed since I was little is a that a lot of media with a trio had the same make up of two boys and one girl, is this a trope or just some weird thing that just happens by random odds?

I think it's a little bit more broad and nebulous than a trope, although it does have a TVTropes page. It's not random odds, it's storytelling trends.

For a number of reasons, the majority of protagonist POV characters are guys. Starting from this premise, if you want to make sure your protagonist always has somebody to play off of so they aren't engaging with the story in complete isolation, you give them at least one character to hang out with. This minimum one character can have all kinds of traits (mentor, scoundrel, battle butler), but if you as a writer are taking the easy, normal approach, you will give this protagonist a friendly buddy/rival to team up and squabble with (and this buddy will also be a guy, because again, this theoretical writer is taking the easy approach to character dynamics), and as a second thought you will probably give our hero a theoretical love interest girl for him to pine after so you can (a) write/draw a Hot Lady as much as you want and (b) get Hero Boy to cover a broader range of emotional situations within the comfort of his friend group. Thus you have rederived the trope of Two Guys And A Girl, congratulations on your moderately successful mid-2000s gaming webcomic.

As the story continues you might realize Girl Who Exists So Protagonist Can Remember Girls Exist is not actually an appealing love interest for him, so you'll probably pair off Girl with Second Guy and leave Hero Boy to pursue other romantic avenues. Second Guy is liable to be rather more interesting anyway, since he's going to be a Lancer to the hero's Leader-ness and serve as his primary foil, meaning he has a little more personality and frankly a lot more romantic tension with the lead. In fact, if you want to be really lazy about it, you can take these three characters and snap them into a love triangle with absolutely no extra work on your part, and that's an infinite drama generator at no cost to you.

You might take a slightly different approach if you, the writer, are a lady writing a lady-centric romantic story, in which case Girl is liable to be the POV character while her buds Hero Boy and Rival Boy take turns having romantic subplot adventures with her. In these narrative structures you don't want to add another girl to the inner circle, because the presence of a Romantic Rival (which seems to be the only purpose Other Girls serve in these stories) would spoil the center-of-the-universe romantic fantasy, so your hands are tied and we're back to Two-Guys-And-A-Girl again. You might add a supportive girl best friend when it gets adapted for netflix though - she can pair off with whichever boy loses at no additional cost.

What we're seeing here is Easy Mode Storytelling. This is what happens when a writer takes the extremely well-traveled road and lets their wheels slide into the well-worn tracks and follow where they may. It's not good or bad, it's just easy. It's a story we can recite in our sleep. This particular character arrangement occurs with unusual frequency because there are a number of factors that make it easy, and when you take a broad approach, the easy approach will be statistically favored.

This triple arrangement can obviously be genderflipped - Hero Girl with her friends Rival Girl and Love Interest Boy - but this is less common just by the numbers, because in the space of fiction there are more Hero Boys than Hero Girls. All-boy and all-girl trios also happen, but because most people are straight, most writers will see this as depriving themselves of all the exciting romantic tension they could get from having One Token Character to be romantically viewed and pursued. Additional characters can be added to the group, leading to Four-Temperament Ensembles and Five-Man Bands, but broadly this three-person arrangement is the smallest possible Ensemble Cast unit a writer can easily construct.

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers: 1x06 - Swish (Part 2)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Skipping over, like, ten minutes of Daphne and Simon sex. Look, I know it looks hot, but I don't recommend doing it outside in the rain. But that's just me. Maybe it's your thing. You do you, boo.

Anyway...

Violet

Can we talk about the beginning of this scene for a second? One of the things I truly love about Bridgerton is the family dynamics, and all of these little insights we get into the family. Gregory and Hyacinth are arguing over a ribbon and Benedict is really stepping up and being 'dad' because Anthony has other things going on, and meanwhile Eloise is just grabbing food and Violet is reading the morning newspaper and it really doesn't matter if it's 1824 or 2024, some things don't change in families, and I think that's kind of cool.

Colin trepidatiously walking into the dinning rooms screams kid who is coming out of his room after being grounded for the night. Also, the timeline is weird on this. So... we know time has passed because of the sex montage (btw - are Simon and Daphne Saphne? Why not Dimon? I feel like then you can use the little diamond emojis for them anyway...). Time has passed. Whistledown needed to be written and released. Has Colin just avoided his family for that long? Is that why he's being that sheepish about approaching his mother? What has he been up to for the past twenty-four hours?

I just had to include the family shot. Violet is pissed. Eloise is delighted. Hyacinth is like - yo, you made the news!!! Which, is funny, because according to the books, Whistledown mentions Colin, like, every other issue. How no one figured out Pen was Whistledown or her feelings for Colin just continues to crack me up. I understand why they didn't, but man it would have been entertaining if someone at least mentioned how often Colin ends up with Whistledown -- and be like, we don't know who she is, but she sure does love Colin.

Also love that Benedict is like - okay, everyone out, Mom's gonna yell at Colin now, and as much as we'd love to watch that, we probably shouldn't... The only unrealistic thing is not one of them going -- no, I want to be here and watch the drama. You know they're all talking about it in whatever room they've relocated to.

Continuing on our theme of how Colin is still very childish in nature... the FIRST thing he does when he sits down is apologize. Again. Violet does not look happy. And Colin, the child who probably didn't get disciplined all that often (or at least not from Violet) is backpedaling a little, and wanting to make immediate amends. He doesn't want to disappoint his mother. (He doesn't want to disappoint any of his family, really) But his whole demeanor here is -- kid who was caught getting in trouble and is now facing the consequences of his actions.

Violet mentions that she's glad she knew (about 2 seconds) before Whistledown reported it. Which is kind of funny because technically, Pen did know before her. But the point is -- just as Anthony was shocked by the development, so is Violet. It does feel out of nowhere.

Colin digs in his heels (stubborn man that he is) and throws out that maybe if Violet hadn't been so caught up with Daphne, she'd have seen that he was courting Marina all season. Which is very much a... you're not paying enough attention to me because of your other children... moment. And I can only imagine that in a family that size, fighting for your parents' attention is a thing that does happen.

And it's not even about attention in this minute. It's about being taken seriously. Colin is in that awkward time of late teens/early twenties where you just want everyone to think of you as AN ADULT(TM) and most people still think of you as a child. Colin's feelings feel very real to him, and while Violet and Anthony (and hell, maybe even Pen gets it) may still laugh and shake their head and go - boy, you still young yet, he doesn't feel that way.

And I mean, I'm not discredit Colin's feelings here, either. Because they are real. He does feel attachment to Marina. He does find her attractive. He does want to explore what a relationship is with her. And he does want to play out all these romantic fantasies he has. BUT. His his inexperience is showing. Because the infatuation he has with Marina is more idyllic, and not built in reality, commonality, and a deeper bond the way it will be with Penelope.

Violet says something key here -- first of all, I need to point out that even if he doesn't feel like it, and even if she is a bit preoccupied with Daphne, Violet is paying attention to all her children. She does get her children. She was well aware Colin was enjoying flirting with Marina. And it's brought up that he flirts with lots of girls. But the key element is that he never acts on any of it. The flirting is just a part of his personality, the way cracking jokes and being kind are. It's how he relates to others. He's charming.

But the thing is the whole charming thing can feel - hollow - for him. Especially when he wants to be taken seriously. Serious people in love are - charming - or - funny - or flirty. (Oh, poor Colin who has people like Anthony and Simon for role models. And Benedict, who is more like him, and who is taken even less seriously at times). Colin comments that no one takes him seriously except for Marina.

Which... isn't true. Because we all know Pen takes him seriously. And, really his other does, too. And we all know Marina isn't being altruistic with her seriousness. But Colin is really only seeing what he wants to see here. Which leads me to a thought I should have brought up in the convo about Anthony ---

The more people don't take him seriously, the more Colin decides he's in some kind of Romeo and Juliet type scenario. He almost wants it to be like that, which again, is another romantic fantasy, where he and his love can run away and be happy together, and face the world on their own despite all the people telling them no! But again, the youthfulness is on display here. Because Romeo and Juliet is not a romance to aspire to.

Violet does make the comment that she's never seen him so solemn and serious. And I am curious as to what she means here. In the last day or so? In the past few weeks? Whatever the timeline is, I think it's telling that Violet has noticed this. Colin is the type of person who you wears their emotions on their sleeve. And as much as he can withdraw when upset (sensitive soul that he is), the lack of a more jovial and lighthearted Colin is always a tell.

And I think that's another key aspect to letting Violet know that something is off about all of this. Colin, ultimately, isn't happy. Sure, he's frustrated here because (he thinks) he's in love and wants to get married and achieve his romantic dreams. But he's in love with an idea. And he doesn't want to face that fact when Anthony and Violet are kind of pointing that out. He just wants to be in love.

But being in love with an idea means you are ultimately unhappy with it. It'll never measure up to what you want it to be because it's not real. And I mean -- clearly real love comes with its own set of issues. But here, the simple act of being in love really isn't bringing him the joy it should be -- and that is telling.

The thing about Violet is that she is a sympathetic and kind person at heart, who is trying to take him seriously. She may not love this idea, but she will support him in this if it's what he really wants. Yeah, it's the 1800s, and there are all these extra societal components that layer on, but I still think she comes off as a mom who will let her kids be her kids. She'll direct them when she feels she needs to, but she allows them to make their mistakes and live their lives. And she's not perfect either, but she does try.

I also love the very honest end to this scene, where now that Daphne is married and out of the house, the reality that Violet's kids are moving on is hard. They've always been a unit and they're starting to fracture off, and that change is difficult.

I also love that, in a way to bring levity, and make his mother feel better (because he is an empathetic little soul) he jokes about Violet having her hands full with Eloise. And, you know, good luck with that. (Which is also such a sibling thing to say/do. I LOVE the sibling dynamics of this show.)

Anyway, this is such a sweet little scene, and I love that we get some Violet/Colin stuff, because while there isn't much of it -- it's always good. This episode is so good... there's so much!!