#IRON FANS HAIR TOOK FOREVER

[weaverpop]

LOL HE GETS CAUGHT

Ironfan: For all the grief you gave me about marrying a demon. You know, at least I waited until after the war!

Jing: It wasn’t- we weren’t- it- it was a fling!

Nezha: *Most Horrified noise known to mankind*

Imagine, you give up everything, revive ridicule from everyone you once knew, and abandon your place amoung the celestials to flee with a rebel after the war…

Only for a general of heaven, the one who was hardest on you, get exposed for sleeping with the leader of said rebellion. While the war was going on no less!

[naeverse]

Drunken Love

A/N: OMG guys, it took forever to write this due to my busy schedule as of late, but my classes are now complete. Hooray! 😆🥳 Thank you all for your patience, and I hope you enjoy. ❤️❤️ Art generated on: niji・journey

🥃staring: FatherBestFriend!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

      🍴preview: Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles. 

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

💰summary: After four years of studying abroad, you return home to a 'Welcome Home' party hosted by your father. However, you quickly realize that nothing has changed—your father remains the same rude and selfish man, solely focused on money and his business. As before, you're expected to conform to his strict rules and spend your days under his watchful eye. But with just a glance, Miguel O’Hara, your father’s best friend and business partner, seems to shatter all your desires to comply with your father's suffocating expectations, and offers an enticing escape...

Just like before…

🔥tw/cw: Age Gape, Big Dick Miguel, Body Worship, Car Sex, Cock Bulge, Cunnilingus, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Forbidden love, Modern AU, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Size Difference

❤️‍🔥Pet names: Amor (Love), Bebè (Baby), Cariño (Darling), Mi amor (My love) Princesa (Princess), Querida (Dear)

     🖤Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🥀 Word Count: 8.2k words

As you stepped through the wrought iron gates of your father’s manor, a wave of nostalgia washed over you. It had been four years since you last set foot here, having been away studying abroad. Now, back home, everything felt familiar...

But not in a good way.

The scent of freshly cut grass mingled with the aroma of sizzling meat on the grill, filling the air as your heels clicked cautiously on the smooth paved pathways leading to the center of your father’s luxurious backyard, where your 'Welcome Home' party was to be held. Yet, deep down, you knew it wouldn’t be the warm reception you hoped for.

The atmosphere exuded polished formality, with every blade of grass meticulously groomed to perfection. The yard held an aura that compelled one to straighten their posture and don their most radiant smile. Small tables, draped with white cloth, adorned the grassy area, displaying an array of finger foods and appetizers. Servants circulated with trays of alcoholic beverages, adding to the air of sophistication. Every attendee was elegantly attired, clad in lavish dresses, uptight suits, diamond necklaces, and gold bands, engaged in hushed gossip in small groups.

‘No wonder Jessica styled me this way,’ you thought, scanning the guests who greeted you with smiles, waves, and brief 'Welcome back's.' Jessica Owens, your personal assistant whom you hadn’t seen in years, had welcomed you at the airport and accompanied you to select a divine outfit tailored to your tastes for the occasion.

A one-shoulder column sequin dress hugged your figure, its scarlet red fabric boasting a leg slit that offered a glimpse of the matching closed-toe, ankle strapped heels you wore. Bold chandelier earrings adorned your ears, drawing attention to your exposed shoulder, while a delicate bracelet with sparkling gemstones adorned your wrist, subtly shimmering in the light.

Makeup further accentuated your beauty—a radiant red lip, sultry eyes, and flawless complexion with highlights completed your look. Your hair, styled as per Jessica's suggestion, cascaded around your face, having been released from an updo to frame your features perfectly.

You could feel eyes on you from every direction, a sensation you didn’t miss on your time away. The overwhelming attention began to stir a wave of nervousness within you. Seeking a moment to collect yourself, you slipped away to a secluded corner of the gathering, observing the events of your supposed 'Welcome Back' party from afar.

Musicians played a steady and upbeat tune, chatter and fraudulent giggles echoed throughout the night. Amongst the festivities, an even more rambunctious laugh caught your attention.

Your father, gleaming in a tailored suit, stood at the center of the gathering. Just like you remembered, his smile was as polished and white as the silverware laid out on the tables, scrubbed to perfection and shining like stars. Studying your father like a book, you couldn’t help but notice his forced chuckles and strained cheeks from grinning too much, a sight that churned your stomach.

After all these years, he remained unchanged—viewing you as nothing more than a tool for gaining him attention.

So why the hell did you expect a warm hug and genuine affection from him without a crowd present? 

Rolling your eyes, you politely signaled to a nearby server to fetch a champagne glass from his tray. You knew you would need it to endure the rest of the evening filled with your father's rehearsed conversations and gestures.

Taking a long sip from your glass, relishing its divine taste and the sizzling burn down your throat. Upon lifting it from your lips with a contented sigh, a voice filled your ears, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"Look at you, all grown up."

The abruptness of the deep, Latino-accented words left you momentarily speechless, a whirlwind of emotions bursting inside you like fireworks against a starlit sky.

There was no mistaking whose voice it belonged to...

It was one you could never forget during your time away, and just thinking about him made butterflies dance in your belly.

"Miggy?" 

You called out the sweet nickname of the older male in shock, turning your gaze up to the towering figure before you, successfully avoiding choking on your champagne in the process.

True to form, his tan face retained its stoic expression, marked by a scowl, tight-knit bushy eyebrows, and stern amber eyes, yet even you could see the familiar corners of his lips draw up into a tight lipped smile. 

"It's nice to see you again, Y/N," he replied nonchalantly, causing your entire face to light up. "Miggy!" You exclaimed, throwing your free arm around his neck as he chuckled lowly at your enthusiasm.

"What did I tell you about hugs, hmm?" he inquired, practically whispering into your ear, though you couldn't ignore the loving undertone in his deep voice. "That you didn't like them, but I do it anyway," you giggled, standing on tiptoes to deepen the embrace due to his towering height. Despite himself, you felt one of Miguel's burly arms wrap around you, pulling you close in return.

You sighed in contentment, his body heat engulfing your smaller self compared to his massive 6’9 height and muscular figure. The Latino's woodsy and wealthy cologne clouded your senses just like before, as the nostalgic feeling of security filled your being. 

I take it you missed me, Cariño," he uttered from above you, his gruff voice rumbling through the expanse of his chest. You nodded, snuggling into his beige collared and button-up top, eliciting a rare hum of contentment from the typically stoic man.

After a while, his arm gave your body another comforting squeeze before reluctantly pulling away. You pushed back the pang of sadness at his sudden absence of warmth.

Clearing your throat, you redirect your focus, following Miguel's gaze to the bustling, fancy gathering, a tranquil silence settling between the two of you.

"How was studying abroad?" Miguel's deep voice, though always soothing, retained its usual coldness. "It was honestly fun," you smiled, recalling the freedom you enjoyed without the scrutiny of your father's strict eye. To your surprise, Miguel scoffed in amusement, shaking his head.

Your eyebrows raised in confusion, and you turned to see him taking a sip from the glass of bourbon you hadn't noticed before in his hand. "What is it?" you urged, causing him to shake his head dismissively once more. But upon his amber eyes catching your growing pout, an expression you knew was always his weakness, he heaved a sigh.

"Dios mío, ese maldito puchero tuyo…" He muttered under his breath, turning to face you fully. "I'm not... pleased with the amount of 'fun' you had away," the older male stated, leaving you confused.

"W-what are you talking about?" you chuckled, watching him nod towards your champagne glass. "You are drinking... You didn't before," he acknowledged.

You followed his gaze to your half-empty champagne glass, a remnant of your previous gulp. "Why does it matter? It's just one glass," you stated, emphasizing your point with another sip, which seemed more like a gulp in Miguel's eyes.

"Querida, before, you could barely handle half a glass, let alone one," he scolded, unable to tear his eyes away from your alcoholic beverage. You gave Miguel a small smile, his overprotectiveness—a trait you actually missed while you were away—evident in every word he uttered.

"Relax," you tried to reassure. "I can handle my alcohol now, Miggy. There's no need to worry." At your words, he huffed, turning his gaze from you back to the gathering unfolding before you. "So you went abroad to become a party animal?" he asked under his breath, the question unsettling you like a disturbed hive. Your face twisted in confusion and a hint of hurt at his comment. "No, I didn't. I went because I wanted to, something I see you still do not understand," you explained, feeling your fingers tighten around the underside of your glass in growing irritation.

Miguel sighed in disapproval, taking a gulp of his dark brown drink. "I just find it hard to believe," he replied. "Studying abroad of all places?" he chuckled, tapping his ringed middle finger against his glass. "I didn't take you as someone to run away from your problems, princesa."

"I didn't run away," you retorted, shooting him a small glare before finding your eyes drawn to your father, who was shaking hands with a well-dressed man and woman. The more you stared at your 53-year-old father, the more your thoughts churned. 

‘Did you leave because of your father?’ you pondered as he was indeed one of the reasons, but mainly you departed to study far away from home to pursue your dreams—something your father greatly opposed.

Being away from your father and his strict rules felt like taking a breath of fresh air. It was the most free you had ever felt. But now, back home, the overwhelming restrictions and harsh regulations felt suffocating, and you wanted nothing more than to retreat back to the paradise you found on your own…

Your thoughts were soon interrupted when a set of ringed fingers gently cupped your chin, turning you to meet the owner of such calloused digits.

With surprise, you found yourself face-to-face with Miguel, his features still stern, his jaw clenched, but his touch gentle, and the coldness in his eyes replaced with something softer.

"I missed you, mi amor..." 

He whispered suddenly, his thumb caressing your skin affectionately. Your heart fluttered at the vulnerability in his words, as memories of every moment spent with him flooded back: Every conversation, every touch, every kiss, and every passionate night rose to the surface of your mind. 

Like a reviving fire, his mere words set your body ablaze. 

You never saw Miguel in this state, never heard him utter something affectionate to you as his love was mostly shown through his actions, making his confession leave you shocked and speechless...

Despite your disapproval and your desire for him to move on, Miguel had waited for you as he promised. The thought of you being gone from his side was unbearable for him. 

Every waking moment was excruciating, every sleeping night insufferable.

He knew how much you wanted to pursue your own dreams and be free of your father, whom Miguel knew all too well as someone very snobbish and selfish. But being away from you for so long was a pain he couldn't bear.

You and Miguel loved each other in secret, the two of you became so good at pretending, one only saw you two as just friends. But your father and Miguel were close—

Very close.

Miguel and your father were business partners before they were best friends. Your father managed the finances and marketing of their shared bourbon line, while Miguel owned distilleries and oversaw production, even owning his own bars where his bourbon was the highlighted beverage.

Their booming business soon forged a friendship, and like welcoming one to the family, your father introduced Miguel to you.

At the time, you were young, and Miguel was evidently older, but when your eyes met, you both fell hard.

You started off as friends, Miguel being a wise, older male you went to for advice, and you were someone who kept Miguel company, even though he once adored being alone. 

The more time you spent together, the deeper your feelings grew, until you both made it official to date in secret.

From then on, private getaways, hidden touches, and shared nights of passion became the norm, despite knowing how enraged your father would be if he discovered such a thing. But neither of you minded; staying attentive and careful kept your secret safe.

It wasn't until you confided in Miguel about your desires to leave and study abroad that reality kicked in.

All at once, your hidden life of fantasy collapsed.

You were going to leave to pursue your dreams, departing from Miguel for four years...

Miguel loathed that, and even more, he despised your reasoning. He wanted it to be because of your strict father, the overbearing rules he'd set upon you. Miguel didn't mind if you left because of him even! But you weren't going for either of those reasons.

"For me, Miggy. I want to go for myself," were the words you stated when he inquired why you must go.

He detested your reason because he knew he shouldn't fight you in the matter; it was what you desired. But he was selfish—possessive even. He wanted you, needed you by his side, so he couldn't accept you leaving him.

Many arguments ensued on the matter. He demanded you to stay, while you found every good reason to leave and achieve your dreams, ones that your father opposed you seeking. It ultimately led to you deciding to put an end to your secret relationship with Miguel.

It wasn't because of the many fights and arguments, but because you knew he loved you too much—too much that you didn't want him to miss you so intensely that it hurt, to the point where it would leave him in an irreparable state. 

To spare you distress and further heartbreak, Miguel agreed to end things, despite his sorrow and disdain at the thought of breaking up. However, while you were concerned about his emotional stability, Miguel's workaholic tendencies got the best of him after your departure—a trait only you could suppress.

He threw himself into his shared bourbon business with your father, meticulously tasting from each of his twenty distilleries, meeting daily with all his workers for updates, making significant improvements on the bars he oversaw, and even holding one-on-one meetings with your father to explore new ways to expand their bourbon industry. He became addicted to caffeine and deprived himself of sleep, to the point where hibernation seemed like the only cure to replenish his exhausted body. 

Miguel worked tirelessly in this manner simply to avoid missing you, and he consumed so much of his own bourbon that he might as well have emptied an entire distillery on his own.

Nevertheless, his attempts were useless…

Miguel thought of you and craved you every day. He spent his days recalling every aspect of you: your smile, your laugh, your fragrance, your hair, your body, and even your affection, which he once found discomforting due to his lack of familiarity with it, but now desired more than ever.

Despite Miguel's best efforts to forget you, he only fell deeper in love with you.  

His days of agony came to an end when Miguel was invited to dinner and golfing with your father. There, on the field, Miguel discovered that you'd be returning back home—back to him.

His heart skipped a beat at the exciting news, leaving him unable to perform a good swing as his golf game with your father proceeded; but to hell with it...

You were returning, and that was all that mattered.

On the day of your Welcome Back party, he found himself picky over his outfit, clicking his tongue and angrily muttering in Spanish at every disappointing attire he came across... until he found the one.

A beige, loosely buttoned top, styled with a matching sienna brown blazer and dress pants was his selection. Pairing it with his attire, he added dark umber oxfords.

To accessorize, the Latino added a complementary belt that matched his shoes and a classic watch with brown leather straps. Gold rings adorned his thick fingers, and a simple chain graced his exposed, muscular throat.

As he put on his outfit for the party, he found himself more nervous than excited. The last few times he'd seen you weren't on good terms. The days of secret getaways, kisses, and passionate touches always led to an argument about your departure, so he was worried you'd still be upset with him…

At the gathering, he found himself eagerly watching the entrance for you, his glass of bourbon in hand. His heart rose and fell with each arrival of another lavishly dressed guest, leading him to believe you wouldn't show.

Until you did...

It felt like everything stopped—the melodic tunes from the musicians faded away, the jumbled conversing of the partygoers ceased—as the only thing he heard was his heart beating loudly against his chest.

You were always beautiful to the older male, but tonight, after not seeing you for so long, you were utterly breathtaking.

His gaze trailed along your figure, remembering all the times he held your form in his hands, felt your body heat, and soft skin. He instantly noticed how enticing that scarlet dress hugged your body, teasing him to do the unthinkable right there, be damned to who was watching.

But amidst his burning desire, in that moment, he could only think one thing, and one thing only: 

"Gosh, I've missed you..." 

Before he could ponder or stop himself, he found himself leaving his spot to walk over to you, and the closer he got, the more his heart felt like it wanted to burst from his chest as flashes of what you shared before played on repeat in his head.

And now as you gazed up into Miguel's hardened amber eyes, you could see love for you in them. His thumb gently tracing patterns along your chin as you were still processing his touch, the closeness and the confession that spilled from his lips.

‘He... missed me?’ You repeated to yourself, almost finding it unbelievable if it wasn't for how he was looking at you as if you were the only woman in the room.

“M-Miggy…” You whispered when suddenly your heart dropped at the sound of another voice approaching.

“Why, if it isn't my little angel?”

Like the speed of light, you jumped away from Miguel to cast your eyes onto your father, instinctively gaining the urge to hide behind your champagne glass.Miguel's face returned to its usual expression of stoicism, hating how the both of you were interrupted. 

“Hello, father,” you said, lacking your previous enthusiasm that you showed Miguel, however, your father ignored you, hastily turning his eyes to his best friend and business partner instead. “And, of course, Miguel O'Hara,” your father grinned, giving the Latino a firm handshake before going into a ramble. “I'd love to set a meeting with you about the idea of releasing a limited-edition bourbon,” he proposed in a jolly tone, business seeming to be the only topic he spoke of.

“Imagine just how much buzz would circulate amongst customers, the collectors, and don't forget the drive sales,” your father beamed at the thought as you watched the interaction between the two men in silence.

Miguel simply grunted to show his attentiveness, but neither agreed nor disagreed with your father's business idea. “I'd rather enjoy welcoming your daughter home. We can speak about business at another time,” Miguel stated, casting a glance over at you before turning his sharp gaze back to your father.

Your dad's smile faltered at being dismissed, clearing his throat. “Of course, of course,” he concurred, turning to you due to Miguel’s mentioning of you, his daughter. “I'm happy you are… back, daughter. I hope you used your time away wisely,” he added, causing your eyebrows to narrow. ‘Wisely? What the hell does that mean?!’ you thought, knowing your father was an expert at backhanded comments and sly insults that can be described like poisoned cake—you never noticed the venom underneath his sweetness.

“I did. I enjoyed doing something to benefit myself for a change,” you politely said, adding more salt into the wound by downing the rest of your champagne. Your father's eyes looked down at your empty glass and then at you in irritation.

Casting a fake smile, he glanced at Miguel. “My apologies in advance, my friend, but it's nothing new seeing my disobedient daughter behave so poorly,” your father said, feeling your stomach twist into knots when he looked back at you, his facade of kindness dissolved into a snarl. “She thinks that she owns the place after leaving for a few years, it's only right I put her back in her place,” your father stated to Miguel, more than you.

Keeping your gaze on your horrible parent rather than the older Latino, you waited for your father's harsh words knowing they were to rain down on you like hellfire, and like anticipated…

it did…

“Listen here, girl, you might have fled from here for whatever reason, but I didn't,” he spat, eyes full of hatred staring back at you. “Without me, our family name would have been forgotten long ago; but for the entirety of my fifty-three years of life, I've worked my ass off to provide for us, and I'll continue to do so until my dying breath,” he said in anger between the three of you.

“And now that you've returned, I won't allow my selfish brat of a daughter to ruin things for me,” your father growled as you narrowed your eyes at him, reciprocating his disdain, but it only seemed to amuse him even more. He chuckled, giving your cheek a harsh pinch. “So do not think being away changes a thing, I expect the same from you as before—obedience and perfection,” he said, patting your face with each word. “Understand, or do I need Miguel here to say it in Spanish for you?” he asked with a smirk as it took everything to prevent the frustrated and angry tears from spilling down your cheeks.

You couldn't hear or see anything or anyone, only feel the overwhelming feeling of entrapment once again. It engulfed your being, feeling like a pair of hands were strangling you, and you were powerless against it…

All over again.

With a shaky breath, you stared back at him with eyes full of raging fire. “Yes…I fucking understand,” you said through gritted teeth, causing the businessman to laugh.

“Good and clean that attitude, girl. I never did like that mouth of yours,” he said, glancing over at Miguel, whose face was still completely hardened, emotionless, but a kinder tone was used by your father when speaking with him. “If you'd like, the meat is being served at the buffet table as we speak, my friend. I heard it's very tender and is satisfactory when hot,” your father smiled. “But I hope you enjoy the gathering. Miguel. Daughter,” he growled, casting you a glare and a hint of disgust found in the way he addressed you before he departed entirely—disappearing into the bustling yard of elegantly clothed persons and leaving you enraged. 

You stared at the spot your father previously stood in, a blazing fire of anger sizzling inside your being. Gripping your wine glass so tightly your knuckles whitened, you turned on your heel, shoving the empty cup into a passing servant's hands on your way out. 

Everything faded around you as the only thing you desired in that moment was getting away—from this party, rich society, and most importantly, your asshole of a father. You didn’t walk far before a large hand grasped your wrist, pulling you into a secluded spot out of the ear and eyeshot of the partygoers.

With a piercing gaze, you looked up, ready to release the fury that had grown inside of you when your eyes met Miguel’s narrowed, yet, concerned ones. His towering frame cornered you against the trunk of one of your father’s massive oak trees in his backyard, a tree he ordered to be particularly planted in this area.

Although Miguel normally didn’t care for others, finding empathy a hard thing, his heart tugged whenever you became like this. “Are you alright? It looks like you want to strangle someone?” He asked, amber eyes tracing every detail of your face in search of what you were feeling inside, but your turmoil was evident.

You released an unsteady exhale, the calm before the brewing storm. “Y-You saw him!” You exclaimed. “T-That rich bastard that has his money shoved so far up his damn ass, he’ll probably believe the sky is green if it means his pockets will be filled.” You ranted in anger, every word making you feel so much better, leaving you to continue your spurge. “And he’s so controlling that it’s suffocating; whenever my father is in the room…, I-I feel like I’m dying, Miguel.” The confession left your lips before you could stop yourself, angry tears beginning to run down your face.

“A-And, he pretends he’s such a great father, going around speaking of me—of my hobbies, interests, and so much more that is all bullshit. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to know.” You cried, trying to wipe your cheeks clean of the tears, but they continued to fall despite your efforts. “My father only cares about himself, more than anything else.” You said in a brittle voice.

“The world can end tomorrow and he’ll still be trying to get over on everyone, and count every dime he has to make sure his pockets are hefty before his time ends.” You sniffled, shaking your head in irritation, the fury in your voice escaping into sorrow. “And…I’m just done. I can’t- I can’t do this anymore.” You admitted with a trembling sigh.

“I can’t be around him anymore, live with his lies, under his rules, and like I cannot exist in his presence.” You told Miguel as after your venting, you looked up at him to find his usual stoic features staring back at you. His tanned face devoid of emotion as he simply stood over you, listening like he always did.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed after saying so many deep things to Miguel—things you’ve never actually told him in-depth, but could simply be noticed as your father didn’t hold anything back from the rich Latino. “I’m sorry, I-I’ll just go.” You said, trying to walk around him when his hand was placed onto the tree behind you, blocking you under him. “No.” He said with the shake of his head, his coffee-brown curls swaying with the movement.

You gasped, eyes snapping up to meet him in confusion when his large hand cupped your rose-tinted cheek, his thumb delicately swiping away a stray tear. “I hated the way he speaks to you; I’ve always did.” He uttered, disdain found in his deep tone. “I’ve offered you many times in the past, Querida, to let me handle it— let me handle your father, and you turn me down each and every time.” He sighed, his amber orbs staring down at you in a blend of rage for the situation you were in, but also in sympathy.

A frown graced your lips, remembering what he spoke of. “Yes…I-I did, because it’s my burden to take on—my problem to deal with, not yours.” You tried to explain. “And if you intervene, it’ll surely ruin things with your shared business with my father.”

“To hell with it.” He spat, his hand moving from your cheek to grasp your hips possessively. “We've tried it your way for years and nothing has changed.” He retorted in anger. “Your father continues to treat you like muck on his shoe while I have to sit and watch.” Miguel said, his eyes narrowed in irritation, his jaw clenched, but his anger settled upon seeing your tears start to flow once more. 

“Listen to me, Cariño.” He began, staring into your eyes. “Your burdens are my burdens—your problems are my problems.” He said, determination etched on his tanned face. “I will not sit around any longer and allow your father to treat you like this, I can’t, and I won’t.” He blatantly told you.

Your heart fluttered at his words, despite not agreeing with Miguel's logic. Looking over his stern features, you could see that there was no way you could stop him—when his mind and heart were set on something, he sought to see it through. You averted your gaze away from the Latino, torn on the newfound decision he’d made. 

A quietness settled between the two of you, the gentle breeze of the wind, tunes and laughter from the distant party filling the silence.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed, not expecting your reaction to be this. He rubbed your hip soothingly, trying to meet your gaze once more. “May you do something for me, Querida…? Y/N?” He said, your name being uttered by him was rare, using it only during serious talks, just like this one.

Without looking at him, you nodded, feeling his burly arm around your waist and soon his breath fanning against your ear. “I want you to forget about your troubles and give your worries to me to bear.” He uttered, caressing your lower back in gentle, loving circles.

“And in return, allow me to make things better for you, mi amor.” 

His words made your stomach flip as your head snapped to meet his gaze. Since you’ve arrived back home, a new side of Miguel has been introduced to you—one that you had never seen.

Before, he was always cold and stern, mostly only affectionate through a slight caress of the cheek, stroke of the hair, or even through a kiss that usually was controlled and led by him. 

He’d never actually spoken sentiments in this way to you, and it made you utterly speechless.

“M-Miggy, I-” You tried to reply but your brain had become mush. Miguel gave you a tight-lipped smile, shushing you with a shake of his head once more. “Come…” He simply whispered, taking your wrist and turning to leave when you hastily stopped him. “Wait, wait, we can’t just leave together. I-It’ll lead to suspicion,” you told the Latino. Despite your hate for your father and the status your family held, you didn’t want to anger him, nor damage his most cherished reputation, believing you’ll surely bring a monster out of your father if you did so.

Miguel looked back at you with tenderness in his eyes. “What did I tell you, hmm?” He asked with a smirk, his gaze instantly mesmerizing you and leaving you unable to speak once more. “Let me take care of things with your father and the rich assholes out there,” he assured in his gruff voice that usually held a rough edge, now gone and replaced with a loving tone that made you melt.

The Latino leaned in close to you, his arm pulling you to his body by your waist. Miguel gazed down at you, his rich, woodsy cologne filling your senses and the feeling of his pecs against your body made a rush of desire burn up inside of you, replacing the fire of hate you previously felt for your father. “Let me make things better for you, amor,” he told you once more, but this time, the adoration for you was evident in his voice.

Your heart skipped a beat, noticing just how close the two of you were—lips just a hair's breadth away. “O-Okay,” you finally mustered, unable to prevent yourself from pulling him into a searing kiss. Miguel groaned in surprise, his hand gripping your waist tightly while his other clawed into your hair, drawing you closer to him.

Gasps of air escaped you, incapable of stopping as with every kiss, it cured the need that you both craved of each other. Teeth clashed and tongues entwined, hands gripping clothes to try and close the nonexistent space between each of your bodies. You only parted when in the distance, a loud applause filled the air, one that startled you both.

Jumping in each other’s embrace, you shared a gaze over at the gathering to find your father in the center, continuing to entertain his guests, their attention solely on him.

You rolled your eyes at the anticipated sight, turning back to Miguel to see that he was already staring at you. His amber orbs burned with longing, and when he pulled you close once more, you could feel his evident bulge pressing into your thigh.

“I can't wait another minute, amor. I need you. Now,” he practically demanded in a hushed whisper into your ear, a kiss pressed upon your lobe following his desire. However, his words and arousal sparked a fire inside of you, matching his own longing.

With just a shared gaze, he knew your response without you having to utter a single word…

‘Let's get out of here.’

Your fingers combed through Miguel’s coffee brown curls, pulling him deeper into the intoxicating kiss you shared as his large hands roamed your bare skin. You moaned into his lips when his hand grasped your breasts, squeezing the sensitive flesh. His ministrations caused the peaked tips to harden as his fingers didn’t hesitate to flick and roll them. Miguel’s mouth continued to ravage yours, your moans becoming lost in your shared passion.

Your eyes fluttered, trying to recall past events on how the two of you ended up in the backseat of his black Lamborghini Urus, unclothed and practically devouring each other like two rabid animals; but the only thing that came to mind was the burning desire to feel him, touch him, taste him... 

Just like before...

“G-goodness, I missed you.” You whimpered between kisses, his lips trailing along your jaw as his massive body pressed you into the leather cushions, his heavy weight and body heat only arousing you further.

He breathlessly chuckled against your throat, pressing a final kiss to your skin before meeting your eyes. “As have I, mi amor,” he confessed, looking down at you with newfound love in his brown orbs. Your heart palpated at the sight as he leaned in to press another kiss to your lips. “Allow us to make up for lost time,” he whispered with a smirk. To your delight, he began to lower down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake: on your collarbone, through the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and finally settling between your thighs.

He passionately kissed your sensitive, plush skin before lifting your legs up to drape over his broad shoulders, bringing himself face-to-face with what he truly desired. You gasped, your lower back arching and rising off the soft cushions of the truck's seat, thankful for the enormity of your father's best friend's vehicle, as it provided plenty of space for all the activities you wished to partake in.

Your breathing came out shaky from anticipation, the warm air from your lover's lips onto your moist core doing nothing to calm your excitement. “Are you going to make love to it or simply stare?” You asked, almost breathless despite not even reaching the peak of your intimacy yet.

Miguel laughed at your fervency, his massive body rumbling. He glanced down, his eyes meeting yours. “I'm just admiring what is mine, amor—what has been away from me for so long,” he huskily uttered, running his thumb delicately along your folds and pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh, the sensation spreading through your body like wildfire.

“I... appreciate the admiration, but I don't think I can wait any longer,” you honestly told him with a small panting giggle. Reaching up to run your fingers through his brown curls, a deep hum of satisfaction escaped his throat at your touch.

"So eager for me, princesa. Always so eager," he groaned, pressing a kiss to your throbbing bud before flicking out his tongue to taste your arousal. The sensation eliciting a loud gasp from deep within your chest.

"Mierda, sabes tan bien… Tal y como lo recordaba," he rambled gruffly in Spanish, burying his face into your heat and wrapping his arms around your midsection to pull you closer. His desire to not part from between your thighs was evident in the growing tightness of his bulging biceps around you—his muscles gripping you in a vice like a starving man with his rations.

Your eyes rolled, the sensations so foreign yet familiar as his tongue seemed to be everywhere at once: circling your bud, thrusting into your entrance, and sucking at your soft folds. “O-Oh gosh!” you exclaimed, realizing just how much your body had been craving and missing his skillful intimacy, his age undoubtedly playing a role in his experience.

An unshakable burning sensation in the pit of your stomach began to brew, the position Miguel held you in leaving you only able to succumb to the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. Your hands tangled in his hair, not having anything else to grasp onto, while your back arched into his mouth, seeking more of his lips and tongue.

“Muy bien, babygirl. Hmm…let me taste you.” He groaned, his breath ragged with desire. His thumbs widened your pussy lips, your soft hood lifting to expose your bundle of nerves as he focused his ministrations on the pink pearl. Like his life was at stake, his tongue suckled and swirled on your throbbing bud in a frenzy until you were a trembling mess underneath him. 

“M-Miggy!” You cried out, convulsing and shaking in his arms. “I-I’m cumming!” You screamed out, feeling him smirk against your core. “That's my girl. Come for me, princesa,” he urged, his efforts intensifying as your sensitivity increased. With a cry of ecstasy, you released the coil of knots in your belly, feeling your thighs become drenched in your juices, eagerly slurped up by your lover.

Miguel adored when you were like this, a twitching, moaning puddle underneath him, knowing he was the sole cause of it. It always left him with a sense of pride. 

With his tongue, he traced a final circle around your folds and kissed your clit before lowering your legs back down upon the seats. He hummed in satisfaction at your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, finding the sight utterly beautiful.

“How’s my girl? Not too much, I hope?” he asked with a breathless chuckle, climbing up to brush a strand of your disheveled hair behind your ear and press a kiss to your temple. You sighed in contentment, his tenderness sending a wave of warmth through your being.

You shook your head at his inquiry, eyes slowly flicking up to meet his gaze above you. “No, I’m okay,” you replied, bringing a smile upon the normally scowling male’s face. “Muy bien. I’m not done with you just yet, baby girl,” he snickered, pressing his forehead against yours, his musk and cologne filling your senses. “I promised to make you feel better. I plan to stand by that,” he affirmed, gently pecking your lips. Your heart swelled, and your core throbbed back to life at his words. You returned his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his muscular neck as his gold chain dangled from his throat.

When Miguel parted and gazed down at you, he saw nothing but devotion and love for him in your eyes—a sight that he’d never thought he’d see before. He nuzzled his face into your neck, relishing in your divine scent that he’d missed so much. Miguel’s hands caressed your bare waist, feeling the soft skin underneath his calloused, ringed fingers. His cock was painfully hard, the only thing soothing his need was the subtle grinding of his member against your thighs, and even still it wasn’t helping.

You bit your lip, feeling just how solid and needy he was, the knowledge only making you wetter. “M-Miggy…I need you,” you whimpered, wanting nothing more than to feel him after so long. Miguel grinned, finding your pleas to be music to his ears. He pressed a final kiss to your neck before parting, his hands grasping around your thighs to widen your legs for him.

A soft moan passed your lips at the contact of his tip brushing teasingly along your drenched folds, the erotic wet sounds echoing throughout the vehicle. “Are you ready for me, bebé?” Miguel practically groaned, his hand gripping your thigh, caressing gentle circles into your skin with his thumb. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded, unable to speak with how quickly your heart was beating and how filled with anticipation you were to be claimed by him again after your time apart.

Miguel growled at your response, guiding his length into your entrance as your joined moans filled the truck. You whined, feeling your walls stretch to accommodate his girthy length. “S-So big, Miggy,” you whimpered, burying your face into your arms. 

The Latino grunted, glancing up to see your concealed face. He took your arms in his hands, drawing, placing them to your sides to expose your facial features to his amber eyes. “I want to see you, amor,” he whispered. “I want to see my sweet girl’s face.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your lips while waiting for you to adjust. 

Soft groans escaped him between kisses at each pulse of your walls around his length. Each peck of your lips was meant to be a cure for his burning desire to fuck your sweet pussy in total abandon after four years of being deprived of it; so he stuck to devouring your mouth whilst waiting for the magic words of your adjustment.

“I-I’m ready,” you told him between his intoxicating kisses, and Miguel promptly began to move. His thrusts started off slow and precise, each of his languid movements pulling a moan from deep within your chest. “S-So good…Miggy,” you were only able to muster, feeling every vein of his massive cock with his steady pace.

Miguel’s amber eyes were always trained on your face, constantly finding adoration for the pleasurable expressions that graced your beautiful features when the two of you were intimate. He leaned down over you, deepening his plunges as he gradually increased his speed until he snapped his hips into you in a frenzy.. “Yes, mierda, you feel so damn good…Fuck. Squeezing me just right,” he hoarsely said, his dark brown curls dampening against his forehead, and his grip on your hips tightening with each thrust.

Your eyes fluttered, hips moving to meet each of his movements. “M-Miggy…right there,” you begged, feeling your lover angle his hips to hit your desired spot repeatedly, causing your climax to hit you instantly. Your loud cry of pleasure erupted throughout the darken truck causing Miguel to smirk, pleased with bringing you to your orgasm so quickly; but not finished just yet. “Yes, princesa. There we go,” he muttered with pants. “But we’re not through yet, bebè. One more,” Miguel said. “Give me one more, babygirl.” He groaned, your stomach coiling again at his desire for you to release a second time as his thrusts resumed. .

The older Latino’s muscles flexed, his pecs and abs glistening with sweat and bulging with each brutal buck, his balls smacking into your ass. You could feel his pent-up frustration for your departure from him for the previous four years, every roll of his hips expressing his longing. “Fuck…I missed this pussy of yours, princesa,” he grunted. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he groaned between loud smacks of wet flesh.

Your chest heaved, legs trembling around his body as his shaft seemed to touch places inside of you that you didn't even know existed. Every plunge of his cock took your breath away, leaving only inaudible moans and slurred, unintelligible words to spill from your lips. Miguel cursed breathlessly, his eyes never leaving your face. He placed a hand above your head on the car seat, his thrusts deepening and making your eyes roll. 

Miguel could feel himself slipping; he was close—he was certain of that, but he wasn’t going to let himself go until you did for the second time. Leaning down, his mouth found your enticing peaked tits, his tongue swirling around your erect nipples. Your eyes screwed shut, back arching off of the cushions of the seat at the added pleasure coursing through your being. Miguel growled softly, sucking your breast into his mouth whilst his other hand dipped down between your legs, his thumb circling your throbbing clit.

With his ministrations, skilled tongue, and brutal pace, your body began to squirm underneath him, all of the sensations becoming too much to bear. A fire seemed to dance along your skin before your vision blurred, and soon another satisfying release washed over you. Miguel's lips pulled away from your breasts, the clenching of your walls bringing him to his climax. “Y/N- Ay cono, I’m cumming,” he said, plunging inside for the final time before a guttural groan erupted from his large chest. He hastily pulled out, his seed shooting from his tip to coat your bare stomach. You softly moaned, feeling his warm essence upon your abdomen, and soon his massive body atop yours once more.

A quiet silence fell upon the truck except for the panting of your joined breaths. You smiled softly down at him, finding his head upon your chest to be precious. “I take it that someone missed me,” you whispered playfully into the quietness once you caught your breath, repeating the same words he said upon the two of you seeing each other after four long years. He chuckled, rubbing your sides tenderly. “Must I admit it?” he asked, making you laugh. “Yes, it’ll make me very happy.”

“Fine,” Miguel stated, looking up to meet your eyes as amusement was gone from his features to become slightly serious. “When you were gone, I was a mess. I didn’t sleep, I drank a lot, and my work filled my days,” he confessed with a sigh, your heart sinking at his words. “Miggy…” you frowned, running your fingers through his hair to soothe him. Miguel melted at your caresses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment to relish in your touch. “I tried to forget you, but forgetting you only made the memories we shared even more prominent, making me want you further, crave you even, despite us being separated,” Miguel told you, while you listened. “So yes… I missed you so much, Y/N,” he smiled, leaning down to peck your lips. “And don’t leave me again, you understand?” he asked playfully, but you couldn’t help but feel that he meant it.

You cupped his face in your hand, stroking his cheek with your thumb. “I promise. I won’t be leaving ever again, but if I do… I’ll take you with me,” you giggled, bringing a small smile upon his lips. However, the topic made your father arise in your thoughts, as any reason for leaving would be because of him. 

Miguel noticed the saddened look that suddenly graced your features, causing his thick eyebrows to furrow. “What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asked, sitting up on the cushion of his truck’s seat, his hand gently rubbing your legs.

You sighed, biting your lip nervously. “My father… I can’t go back,” you admitted to not only Miguel but to yourself. The mere idea of returning to him, his suffocating rules, and lifestyle felt like a death sentence. The older Latino male gave you an emotionless look, his fingers tracing patterns along your calf, his mind seeming to be spinning.

“Then don’t…” 

Miguel's sudden proposal surprising you. "W-what?" you asked in disbelief, your shock making him chuckle. "Then don’t go back… live with me," he suggested. Skeptical, you eyed him, trying to determine if he was joking, but Miguel was always serious, so you knew he was being truthful. 

"But… I can’t just… stay with you, Miggy. It’ll draw suspicion—"

"Shh…" Miguel interrupted with a smirk, stroking your cheek softly with the back of his hand. "I won’t allow my girl to go back to a place where she isn’t comfortable," he explained. "So live with me,’ he stated once more. “I’ll provide for all your wants and needs, allow you to behave and speak however you like without any restrictions holding you down." Miguel's sincere voice was one you trusted more than anyone else's on this planet. 

"And… what if this angers my father?" you asked warily as Miguel chuckled. "You wouldn’t have to worry about that. You won’t have to see your father unless you wish to," he assured with a smirk. "And don’t concern yourself with me; the bastard cannot hurt me even if he tried," he added, reassuring you further. Your heart soared at his words. 

For the first time in your life, you were given a solution—an escape from your father and the enslaved life he’d placed you into. You pulled Miguel into a deep embrace, surprising him with the sudden affection, but he returned it nonetheless, wrapping his burly arms around you and pulling you close. 

Miguel caressed your bare lower back, relishing in your closeness as your next words made his entire body become rigid. 

“I love you, Miggy.” 

The endearing words escaped your lips, something he thought was as ethereal as your shared love for each other. Before he could ponder it, he found himself uttering the same words back—and wholeheartedly meaning it. 

“I love you too, Querida.”  

In that moment, you couldn’t fathom how happy you were about your freedom, but you were even more delighted that you could finally be happy with the man you loved. 

Certainly, there would be challenges and obstacles in the future, but you’ve never felt stronger and more confident to tackle them with Miguel O’Hara, your secret lover and father’s best friend, by your side. 

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I just want to say again that I'm very thankful for the patience that you, lovely people have given me for the past few weeks, months probably. 😅 So I'm very grateful. 😊

I have many story ideas, requests and the kink series, Entangled Desires to get to, I can only hope that I'm able to get more things out to you wonderful people in the next couple of days or so. There is a lot to get done as you can see lol! 😅

But once again, thank so much, and just want to give a shoutout to @serpentineaerodynamics. This girlie has been getting my brain flowing, since I've returned and she's gotten me pumped to get back into the groove of things. 💪🏽😁 So thank you bestie! Love ya! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! ❤️❤️

<3 Taglist:

@oscarissac2099 @powerful-niya @szapizzapanda @mcmiracles @mreowmoreww @thedeva @jadeloverxd @lazyotakuofficial @migueloharacumslut @nattywatty @homewreckingwreck @kinkybandages @prazinos @huniedeux @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak @anniee-mr @crimin4llyins4ne @lynxslokley @rice-wife @oharasfilipinawife @migueloharastruelove @rodriash002 @e1f-boi @user3732094737 @truth-dare-spin-bottles @taleiak @alurafairy

**If you are part of the taglist and didn't receive a notification, please check your settings and ensure that the tag notification button is turned on.**

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

[marzipanandminutiae]

I'm having a Day

who wants to see my old apartment

this was the entry from the stairs that led up to our "first floor," on the second level of the building. the back staircase, yellow here with the sun, led to the third floor where the bedrooms were. those windows always stuck something fierce. we never had the lights on during sunny days if I could help it, but I didn't take this picture. I'd never before lived in an apartment that had radiators like that, with flowers in the cast iron; I loved them so much

it was such a good kitchen. everyone always said we had an amazing kitchen, when they visited. I wrote one of my fanfics on that squashy tan couch in front of a fan, on the hottest July day that year; a story that began and ended with a snowstorm. there's a photo of me lounging on it, wine-tipsy, in the Lucille robe and nightgown

the cabinets above and to the left of the stove survived the fire almost entirely. everything inside them was untouched, pristine, when the firemen opened the door to retrieve my antique teapot. I put it on a high shelf when I wasn't using it, so as not to stress out my housemates by having something fragile and irreplaceable on the counter or table

the breeze would always knock the toilet paper off the windowsill in summer when the windows were open, but we couldn't seem to fix the TP holder so it would stay put. that's my facial cleanser in the shower, the pump bottle. my bag of antique linen wash hiding my toothbrush on the little white shelf to the far right. I hung out with a housemate/friend in there while they dyed their hair once. I brushed my teeth in there on the mornings of my 27th, 28th, 29th, 30th birthdays. I spit blood into the sink you can't see, the night my gum graft stitches popped, not knowing we had less than a month to live there. the house as we knew it had less than a month to exist

I never took decent photos of my room. I regret that so deeply. this is how I last saw the place, though, in its proper form- what I saw After doesn't count. part of me will always be the Me that left that morning for work, eternally expecting to open that door and pass through those familiar rooms again

it was never supposed to be home forever, but it was home for those four years.

I just want to go home

[blood-smiles]

Entry #2

Dear Diary,

Sun’s demeanor was like the four seasons, always changing when you least expected it.

Sometimes he was gentle and fresh like spring, peppering your face with chaste kisses just like how the petals of a blooming flower would brush against your cheeks.

Summer is my second favorite, warm and playful just like the waves at the beach, combing your hair with his fingers alike to the warm breezes that would ruffle your hair in all sorts of directions. 

Ironically, he was just like the fireball in the sky, blessing you with another day to bask in its radiance, hot and passionate. 

Like the sun in the desert he didn’t bestow you with mercy when you most needed it, he only took and took from you in those times, sucking your energy and joy away without a second thought. But who were you to question the sun? That who gives you the sustenance to live yet another day.

But that didn’t happen much.

Im not a big fan of Autumn. It was quiet, transitioning from warmth to cold. The birds went quiet and it seemed that you were the last person on earth during that time. It was so much like Sun when he was starting to seethe, still and silent, barely giving any signs of what urges he was about to act on.

I despise winter. I hate it, the cold is stifling and it kills everything in its way with a thick layer of ice, the tips of your fingers turn frigid as you meet Sun’s empty gaze, a violent snow storm kicking up behind the dark of his pupils.

Winter scares me, Sun scares me when he’s in winter, a vile shade of jealousy paints his expression, his full eyebrows pinched together as he sharpened his gaze with malice.

Those once nurturing fingers dug into your shoulders like icicles, warning to puncture your delicate skin like sharpened needles.

His wrath was terrifying, alike trying to survive a blizzard with only an old lighter in your clammy hands.

Winter was the shortest season though. Thankfully it didn’t last as long, and soon would fade into spring again, but it was apparent that on the budding roses there was still remnants of ice glittering on its petals and stem.

It’s sad that nice weather doesn’t last forever.

Sincerely, Smiles.

@yandere-yearnings

DAR I DONT WANT TO ANNOY YOU I SWEAR ☹️ IM GOING TO TEAR OUT MY HAIR, I just got hit by inspiration so suddenly so I’m taking my favorite chew toy and spitting him out on a plate for you.. I promise I’ll take a break and stop bombarding you with my entry’s 🥰🥰🥰

Sun’s arm will look after I’m done with him 😝😝 *rubs hands evilly while disappearing into fog*

[daisies-daydreams]

Mama Hen Pt. 1 (Soap x Wife!Reader)

Pairing: Husband!Soap (John Mactavish) x Wife!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Slight Angst, Soap Gets Handsy Word Count: 1k+

Summary: After returning from another mission, you and Soap share dinner for what feels like the first time in forever. At the end, you ask him for something you’ve been wanting for a while...

Pt. 2 (18+) 

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The second you heard the front door swing open, you were quick to leave the kitchen and sprint down the hall. 

“Johnny!” you called out as you rushed into the front room. 

Your husband stood in the doorway, his mouth curved up as he saw you run towards him. He tossed his bags aside before he stretched his arms out. You nearly knocked him over as you wrapped your arms around him. John pressed kisses to the top of your head as he laced his hefty arms around your body.

“Missed ya so much, hen,” he spoke into your hair. You sniffled as you buried your face into his solid chest. 

“I missed you too, so, so much,” you cried into him. 

You slowly broke the embrace to look into his sapphire eyes. His hands fell to your hips as he leaned down and kissed you. Your lips seemed to melt together as you slid your hands behind his neck. He grunted when he felt you open your mouth, his tongue sliding in. Heat soared across your body as he sucked on your wet muscle, his body beginning to lead you away from the door. You let out a high pitched squeak when you felt a hand snatch one of your ass cheeks.

“You sure you weren’t just missing something else?” you quipped as you gently pulled away from the kiss. John gave a low chuckle, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“‘Course not. I missed all of you,” he grinned, his hand squeezing your plush cheek. You playfully flicked his chest. 

“That’s a relief,” you chuckled. John laughed with you as he pushed the door shut with his boot. You took him by the hand and squeezed it tightly. 

“Come on, Casanova. Dinner’s almost ready,” you murmured as you released your grip with a wink. You turned down the hallway, leaving him to watch you sway your hips side to side. 

“Right behind you,” John said as he quickly shoved his muddy boots off and flung them towards his duffel bag. 

Your husband followed close behind you, mesmerized by the fact that he was finally home with you. While you were clad in sweatpants, a baggy t-shirt (his, no less), and a pair of mismatched socks, he always looked at you as if you were a queen wearing the most lavish gown. 

John took a deep breath as he strode into the kitchen. The collection of savory smells caused some drool to pool in his mouth. He smacked his lips as he made his way over to where you stood near the stove. You quickly flipped the knob on before placing an iron griddle on top of the burner. His eyes scanned the countertop to find fried eggs and tomatoes, crispy bacon, golden toast, baked beans, and cooked sausage. 

“Breakfast for dinner? You really know how to spoil me, bonnie,” he grinned as he wrapped his arms around the front of you. You smiled and reached around to kiss him.

“I know you’re always hungry after you come back from a mission,” you hummed as you poured some oil into the pan.

His eyelids drooped as he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck. He pressed his lips to your pulse as he swayed his hips with yours. Your face glowed a bright red as you flipped some raw dough onto the pan. They sizzled as the two of you continued your small dance. 

“Didn’t spot any haggis,” he teased into your neck. You sighed as you flipped the scones to the other side. 

“Someday I’ll be brave enough to make it, let alone eat it,” you replied. You felt his laughter fan over your neck before he moved up to your temple and pecked it. 

“I’ll hafta sneak it into some of your regular food,” he said lowly. Your brows furrowed as you flared your nostrils. 

“Watch yourself,” you warned. The two of you chuckled. 

Both of you never quite cared for it, yet who would your husband be if he didn’t tease you about it? You shifted your focus back to the food, the dough browning and crackling in the pan below. 

John took in the scent of your hair, the scent of you. He could stay like this with you forever. Every time he was out in the field, it was the thought that he’d come home to you that kept him going for one more step, one more minute. The nightmares that stalked him in his sleep paled in comparison to the warmth that spread through his heart when he held you close to his chest. 

“And...done!” you chirped.

He cracked an eye open, his stomach instantly growling at the sight of the golden brown tattie scones lying in the black pan. 

“I’m so glad I married someone who can cook,” he mused aloud. You smiled as you scooped the scones and placed them onto a tray. 

“I’m glad I married someone who can eat,” you replied. John cracked a grin as his hands snaked to your hips. His eyes scanned the assortment of food that rested on the countertop. 

“I will say, your Full Scottish could give Mam’s a run for her money,” he whistled. You shrugged as you slid the last scone onto the plate. 

“I don’t think you want compare your mother’s cooking to mine. Sounds like a dangerous game,” you said with a brow raised. He chuckled as he helped carry some of the dishes to the table. 

“Next time we visit home, I’ll have to judge the both of ya,” he grunted. 

The sun was far past the horizon as the two of you finished setting up the table. You slid into your chairs and dove straight into your dinner. 

“I might’ve made too much,” you laughed sheepishly. John grinned as he reached for some bacon, his plate already piled with nearly half of it. 

“Nah, no harm in makin’ a lot. Just means we’ll have a meal to look forward to in the mornin’,” he said with a wink. You smiled and chewed on a warm, fresh tattie scone. 

“Anythin’ excitin’ happen while I was away?” he asked. You hummed for a second before swallowing. 

“Not that I can think of. Just the same old stuff,” you said with a shrug. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before biting into a piece of toast. 

“At least tell me you kept up with football this season?” he asked. You gave him a blank, wide eyed stare. His face fell slightly while his shoulders dropped. 

“Oh, come on, hen, please-” you suddenly broke out a lethal smirk. John shook his head and snorted while you burst into laughter. “Yer a tricky thing, ya know that?” he chuckled. You caught your breath before wiping a tear from your eye. 

“‘Course I kept up with it,” you replied as you bit into a savory piece of bacon. 

You continued to explain the season so far, the man across from you hanging on to each word that poured from your mouth as if you were reading a sacred text. Both of you were nearly finished with your meal before you decided to change the subject. 

“Do you want to talk about the mission?” you asked softly. 

The lights in his eyes faded as his face grew pale. A heaviness fell through the room as he stared at you blankly, his mind far away from you. You frowned before reaching for his hand. 

“It’s alright. You don’t have to share if you don’t feel comfortable with it,” you cooed, brushing your thumb over the top of his rough hand. He gave a tired smile and nodded.

“Thank you, bonnie,” he sighed, his mind starting to drift back to the present. 

Before you knew it, both of your bellies were well past full. You began to take some of the dishes into the kitchen, your husband following in tow. You arched your brow when you saw him carrying the rest of the dishes. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got this. You’ve had a long few weeks. Go take a shower and relax,” you said as you waved your hand. He stepped forward and placed his dishes into the sink. His hands were quick to turn on the faucet and grab the sponge. 

“I’ll wash, you dry,” he answered. You blinked.

“I thought you were trained to follow orders,” you replied. His shoulders raised as he reached over and snagged some of the dishes from your arms. 

“I was also taught that many hands make light work,” he commented. You shook your head and sighed, accepting a frying pan he’d already scrubbed clean.

You sang a quiet tune as you rubbed the towel against the surface of the pan. The two of you continued to wash the large dishes, and you had to admit, the process did go by much faster than you initially thought. You watched John place your plates and utensils into the dishwasher. A thought that had been gnawing at you since he left suddenly bubbled into your consciousness. 

“So, after I take a quick shower, let’s say that you and me have a little...alone time,” John smirked while wiggling his brows. You felt your face grow hot as you bit your lip. His smile faltered as he watched you fiddle with the towel, your body rigid and eyes shifted down. 

“Bonnie?” he asked. 

“Johnny, honey,” you began. He kept his arms at his side, his brows slightly knitted. You clung onto the towel while you breathed in. 

“Now that you’re back on leave…well...” you felt hot tears prickling the corners of your eyes. In an instant, your husband was right in front of you, his large hands cupping your face. 

“(Y/N)? What’s the matter?” he asked, voice deep with concern. You bit your lip so hard you nearly drew blood. Your heart raced as your mind buzzed with thoughts of past conversations, all beginning like this. 

“Um, well...you know how we talked about...having a baby before you left?” you squeaked out. 

The room fell completely silent. His expression was unreadable as he seemed to dwell on your words. You shook as he rubbed his thumbs across your cheeks.

“It’s just, I know you’ve said no before, but I-” you blinked away a few tears. His face was soft as you took another deep breath. “I want a baby, Johnny. I want one so bad and I know you’re scared of what could happen with your work and all, but I-” your voice cracked before you broke down sobbing. 

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach as the tears burst from your eyes. His silence did little to comfort you, as if he was giving yet another firm “no”. You felt hot under his bright blue gaze, his eyes falling over every inch of your body. He reached his finger and thumb beneath your chin and tilted your head up to meet his gaze. Your eyes grew wide as he pressed a deep, gentle kiss to your lips before pulling back.

“I’m so sorry, hen,” he said with a deep frown. You sniffled as he drew you into a tight embrace. “I didn’t realize how much this was hurtin’ you,” he admitted. 

You continued to soak his dark green shirt with the tears that just wouldn’t stop. He stroked up and down your back, letting you take all the time you needed to settle. He pulled back slightly to see your cheeks covered with wet mascara. John took his shirt and rubbed at the wet spots on your red cheeks.    

“Bonnie, I know I’ve said ‘no’ to this before,” he began. You felt like the weight of the earth itself was ready to crush you. “But...I think I’m finally ready for us to  have a wee bairn of our own,” he finished. Your eyes snapped open, your mouth agape. 

“Really?” you whispered out. He beamed and nodded. 

“Aye,” he admitted with a rare shy grin. You gasped and swung your arms around him. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you cried. He chuckled as you kissed him all over his tired face. “I love you so much,” you choked. John sighed as he gave you another warm kiss. You felt his strong arms envelope you in a safe, close hug. 

“I love you too, hen,” he replied. The two of you stayed in a tight embrace, your lips finding each other every so often. “I can’t wait to see what a wonderful Mam you’ll be,” he beamed while brushing some loose hair from your face. A wave of warmth rippled across your body at his words. 

“What do you think we should name him? Or her? Or- I don’t know, I’m just so happy!” you squealed. Your husband grinned before stealing another kiss from you. You melted into his arms as he swayed side to side.  

“We can think of names later,” he stated. You looked into his eyes, now dripping with a deep hunger as he licked his lips. “The better question is...when were you thinkin’ of tryin’?” he murmured. Your entire face flushed a cherry red as you stared at his hungry gaze, your hips wiggling in his hold.  

“I was thinking, would you want to try...tonight?” your voice raised a pitch on the last word. 

You bit your lip as his gaze darkened. His hands snaked down to your rump before they squeezed your plump flesh. He pressed you closer to him, the heat between you two growing by the second. You instantly felt lightheaded as he kissed and nibbled up your jawline before finally landing on the shell of your ear. 

“There’s no time to waste, then,” he groaned. 

------

Thanks for reading! Pt. 2 coming soon (WARNING: it will involve a lot of heavy smut). 

[bldofthedrgn]

The Dragon Never Dies.

A story in which a Baratheon girl falls in love with a dragon prince ... slowly :)

warnings: too fluffy?? there isnt much crazy stuff happening its just part 1 just baelor being a flirt (maybe a little ooc?) fem reader, no physical description other than typical Baratheon hair color

word count: 1.5k

The sun gleamed brightly upon the onlookers of the tourney. In large stands surrounding two tilts sat lords, ladies, knights, squires, and other high-born strangers alike, all squirming with excitement for the days events. Y/n sat next to her father, Lord Gowen Baratheon and some other meek nobles amongst her father's closest allies. She had never quite enjoyed the company of many highborn ladies, with their gossiping and insipid rumors, and highborn men made her all the more weary.

Y/n's contempt for socialization never steered Lord Tully's eldest daughter Alice in the other direction, however. Sitting next to her best friend was the only thing that made the blinding sun shining in y/n's face worth it.

"Here", Y/n heard "take this". Y/n looked down to see Alice shoving something resembling a fancy stick in her hand.

"What is this?" Y/n questioned.

"It's a fan." A small giggle escaped the red-haired girls mouth at her friends confusion. "Storm's End tends to get quite balmy during the summer, does it not?"

Y/n's expression had become one of realization. "Pardon me, Alice. My mind is elsewhere at the moment." The young lady need not look to her best friend to know the look of question plauging her face. Y/n sighed. "I am hot and bored. I have never had a taste for tourneys, jousts or melees. Most men fight too brutish or too feebly, it makes for a tiresome battle. I might have a more pleasant time had any of these knights been .. more pleasant to look at."

"There are more contestants to come, maybe they will be attractive!" That was true enough, y/n's uncle had yet to arrive. Same to be said for Alice's brother. The thick haired brunette hoped that more knights had entered the lists forbye Edmund and her uncle, for Edmund would forever stay a sweet young boy in her eyes and she did not find the ancient Valyrian custom of wedding kin to kin too appealing.

Alice had always been a positive girl, a perfect balance to y/n's skepticism. Y/n simply nodded in acknowledgment and allowed her friend to prattle on about this knight or that, waiting ever impatiently for the damned thing to start.

A loud, gruff voice boomed throughout the stands. "The final three contestants!" Y/n was grateful to hear the herald begin his announcement. Thank the gods, this weather is unbearable.

"Lyonel of house Baratheon, the Laughing Storm!" Out rode y/n's uncle in his stag-emblazoned arms atop his strapping brown warhorse. Gods be good, Y/n thought. May the Mother have mercy and the Warrior lend my uncle strength.

The girl and her uncle had always been close, becoming akin to a second father to her after her own had been injured in the Blackfyre rebellion. During Lord Baratheon's time of need, the Laughing Storm took on the many responsibilities as needed of Lord of Storm' End. What's more, he took on the responsibility of family; providing comfort to his niece and good sister, praying nightly to the seven for his brothers return to health.

"Edmund Tully of House Tully, heir to Riverrun!" Edmund rode gallantly past the stands sending fanciful ladies in his immediate vicinity into a spiral of swoons, hair twirls, and giggles. Ever the charmer I see. Y/n could not deny that Edmund had grown to be a striking young man. Regardless, he would always remain the boy who'd follow her to her lessons clinging shyly to her skirts. The Baratheon girl gave Edmund a small smile in show of support, which he mirrored in thanks.

"Prince Baelor Breakspear of house Targaryen, The Hammer! Prince of Dragonstone, Protector of the realm, Hand of the King, Heir to the Iron Throne!" Y/n's eyes perked up at that particular announcement, having always had an infatuation with the history of the Dragon. Who wouldn't want to be a dragonrider?

Her eyes searched the gates with eagerness, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dragon prince through the shining sun rays that caught on her eyelashes.

Heavy hooves could be heard, followed by the shaking ground caused by Breakspears great destrier. A maginificent beast with a coat of hair midnight black, matching its riders own armour, tall and powerfully built. A perfect horse for a prince, y/n thought in awe as the prince started past the stands. She hadn't noticed, however, that the royal man had stopped his mount. And he had suspended his trot directly in front of her. Y/n's mind raced with confusion and worry when the broad chested man began to lift his helmet, afraid of what The Hammer himself could want with her. A part of her mind raced with girlish excitement, though y/n would never admit to that.

A mess of short dark hair emerged from his three-headed dragon winged helm, sticking slightly to his forehead from the heat. He truly looked as a Targaryen prince should. Mighty, strong, impermeable as a dragon. His armour, so black the metal swallowed any sunlight, with gold lining and Targaryen heraldry stamped across his chest and shield. Y/n could scarcely remove her eyes from his despite all his royal arms, with strands of his freshly cut storm-like hair falling so perfectly in front of the kind amethysts that sat beneath his steady brow. His face was clean shaven and his nose had a small crookedness to it, no doubt the result of a quarrel or two. Though, the twice-broken nose hadn't diminished his looks. Targaryen men have always been quite handsome, y/n thought to herself bashedly, but Baelor Breakspear was an animal of a different kind.

"Lord Baratheon, my lady." The crown prince bowed, ever the diplomat.

"My prince," y/n's father started, "it is an honor." The Baratheon lord had begun to sweat harder, a smooth sheen of sweat glistening above his brow, though only y/n had noticed. "I am in your service."

Breakspear had the grace to smile, his white teeth somehow seeming whiter in the bright of day. He even has a royal smile.

"I require no service of you, my lord" The prince's voice was not deep, but firm and unwavering holding a kind tone. "I simply wished to tell you that I am gladdened to see your recovery. You are an ally to the realm and a good friend, we have kept you and your good house in our prayers."

Gowen had been taken aback by the princes acknowledgments, though he would not let it show. The raven-haired stag bowed respectfully.

"I thank you, my prince. The recovery was long and hard, but gratefully I am not so easily felled." Lord Baratheon followed with a chuckle.

"That much is true." Prince Baelor offered a light chuckle in return. "I shall hope to treat with you later. And I shall humbly ask for the Lady Y/n's favour in the passes." At that moment the striking prince locked eyes with Y/n, having felt her stare since his trot up to the stands. The normally brazen and confident girl was at a loss for words. She much detested the formality of offering a knight your favour at a joust, but this was the prince of Dragonstone, the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. She could feel her cheeks burning and her chest begin to thump violently, and then came a sharp push to her ribcage.

"Give him the wreath!" Alice scream-whispered into the frozen girls ear. Y/n had never actually been asked for her favour at any tourney, despite her contempt. She had never really been approached by any man seeking more than sin, and even those were few and far between.

The girl began to move, descending as gracefully as her legs would allow in her nervousness. Grabbing a small ringlet of flowers, red and pink, woven together by stem and golden thread, y/n lowered herself over the edge of the stand she sat in.

"I wish you good fortune, my prince." Y/n could no longer hold his stare, her stomach a fury of nerves at the intensity which the Hand studied her with.

"Thank you, my lady." The prince lowered just enough to be in the newly timid girls eye line, forcing eye contact. "Your favour shall give me fortune enough for victory." He winked, small enough for only her eyes, she'd hoped. With a charming smile prince Baelor began his stroll toward his end of the tilt, head held high, waving to the stands of loyal subjects.

Y/n slunk back to her seat, curling her body inward in hopes to conclude with the endless perceiving she had just fallen victim to. She could not deny that interaction had made her flustered, as a princes affection is no small thing. No, she told herself, affection was not present. He was solely being kind, in respect to my father. Simply a formality.

The young lady of house Baratheon could not have been more misguided.

A/n: If u made it this far, thank u for reading :3 this is just part 1 bc im unfortunately a yapper and will make this a slow burn by accident. part 2 to come soon <3 hope u enjoy !

[instant-delusions]

♰ 𝔩𝔞𝔶 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔪𝔢 ♰

vampire! gaara x f! reader

cw: nsfw (head - female receiving), blood(sucking)

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

only a vampire can love you forever - horrible hookups, rancid relationships and dodgy dates, those obviously never satisfied you, how could they? mere men are useless. around the time you absolutely gave up on finding somebody who'll quench your thirst for obsessive love, gaara tiptoed into your life - in a little corner café, on a horribly rainy autumn day, his candle lit face caught your attention. stirring honey into your chamomile tea, you watched as his turquoise eyes were glued to a page of 'masque of the red death', twirling a dark tinted wine glass in circular motion flawlessly. "his own demise is still a mystery, did you know? it's quite ironic.", gaara glanced up quickly and cocked his head slightly in surprise, obviously not expecting somebody like you talking to the likes of him.

"I did not." his voice was smooth and low, like candle wax dripping; a dangerously hot sensation with an addictively warm undertone. goosebumps rose on your skin as he kept looking into your eyes, noticing the effect he had on you, he smiled lazily. "though, i am quite curious now. please, tell me more." gaara leaned onto his hand, peering at you almost seductively. having an absolutely breathtaking man like him look at you this intently made you squirm. you averted his gaze, sat on the sqeaky chair across from him and started speaking quietly, spilling all your knowledge of the mysterious circumstances of edgar allan poe's death. after you were done, gaara took a sip from his wine, painting his lower lip an attractive, bloody red. completely entranced by his captivating appearance, you barely noticed him pull out his leather wallet and drop cash on the table. standing up, he reached his hand out for you to take. what a gentleman, you thought dreamily... 'he's hot, okay, but think about this - a literal stranger, (y/n)! don't be stupid.' the little voice in your head whispered reason, however, as his earthy desert-rose scent hit you, your hand immediately found his cold one.

the apartment was an old one, georgian in style and as you expected, filled to the brim with books. plus, the shades were drawn and a few flickering candles lit the place, the floor creaked as you inspected every room, to find his sheets not a bit creased, as if he never laid there at all. as you sat down on his bed, you noticed it sadly didn't smell of him either. "thank you for being my guest, (y/n). I did get a bit lonely lately." he spoke while opening one of the windows, "hope you don't mind. I like the sound of rain." gaara smiled at you toothily, flashing his almost fang-like ones. you shook your head no, agreeing with his fondness of rain and watched as he sat down next to you.

"so gaara, are you somebody who keeps up with news?" you twirled your hair as you spoke, trying to read his stoic expression ; is he surprised? or... does he feel caught? the man leaned back with curiosity in his eyes, humming, he tapped his chin twice, as if in deep thought. "are there any specific ones that caught your attention?" he replied, voice steady and unassuming. "indeed. the attacks that have been happening lately..." as you crawled closer to him, almost like a lioness circling her prey, he rose a brow - not in confusion, but in caution. "farmers are shocked to see their animals sucked dry. two..." you lifted two fingers in front of his face, "...puncture wounds near their neck. almost like a vampire ... or maybe the chupacabra." at that, gaara lost his composure and started to giggle, he looked at your lips and back to your eyes, cocking his head slightly. "what are you implying, (y/n)?" he asked, voice silky smooth and teasing, while leaning his head on your shoulder, breath fanning your neck. running your fingers through his dark red locks you hummed, "obviously, you're a chupacabra." you felt his face heave with laughter against your shoulder, coming back up he put his hands in the air, as to defend himself. "you got me." looking at him with a smirk and blown pupils, you spoke ; "I know a way to keep your thirst at bay."

quickly, his smile dropped to a frown and gaara shook his head. "(y/n), I know what you're feeling, it's what I'm designed to do; captivate and kill, but..." reaching up, he carefully stroke a strand of your hair. "I've sworn off killing and drinking from humans." with a sigh, he let his hand fall into his lap. he watched as you crawled closer again, each of your legs resting at his sides, straddling him. "you don't want me?" the question made him look at you with frustration, "what do you mean?". "I want you to drink from me" to underline your point, you stroke your hair back to reveal the soft skin of your neck. "if you want..." looking at his unreadable expression, you started losing confidence. it was clear that he was torn - wouldn't it be for his amazing restraint, he'd have his fangs buried in you back at the café, where he first smelled the sweetness pumping through your veins. not to mention the situation right now ; his knuckles white from holding back having a taste of ambrosia right next to him. you traced his skin with a finger, feeling how cold and soft it is, "don't hold back."

with that, gaara let out a quiet whine and nustled his head in the crook of your neck. pressing a sweet kiss on it, he asked ; "you sure?". you pushed your hand against the backside of his head, bringing him closer to you. "yes." feeling his lips part, you tried to contain your excitement but ultimately failed as he sunk his fangs in. a loud moan escaped you after his first suck, he gently laid you onto your back and continued. deep groans and unintelligible babbles left him, you could make out the words "too good". the pleasure was indescribable, like the way weed hits after a long break or a big swing of icy water on a hot summer day - his hand pressed into your waist to move you closer until there was no more space left, you could feel him gulping greedily. slowly starting to grow lightheaded, you pressed against his shoulder with a mumble of his name, with one last suck, gaara stopped. his teeth redacted and you felt your warm blood running down your throat. obviously, he couldn't waste that and licked a long stripe back to your wound, where he licked away the spilling drops like a kitten. needily, you pressed your hips against his and started grinding helplessly. "gaara...please. I need more." he lifted himself off enough to look at you, lips and chin red ; "more?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth teasingly. "what does that mean, hmm?" peppering kisses all over you, he enjoyed the way you squirmed and stuttered, without coming up with a comprehensive answer. "please use your words, love." gaara gently started to knead the meat of your thigh. "wanna cum..." you mewled pathetically, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment. gaara pressed a little kiss against your lips; a reward, of sorts. "good girl." moving down, he pulled the zipper of your skirt down, helping you shimmy out of it, revealing your (hogwarts house)-themed underwear. "cute panties" he commented with a wink, before slowly pulling it down your legs. breathing in deeply, you pressed your thighs together and hid your face, feeling shy all of a sudden. "what's wrong?" he asked, "I'm nervous!" a giggle left him as he moved your hands away, he kissed you again and hummed against your lips. "me too."

now situated between your legs, gaara focused on leaving hickeys and bites on your thighs. "thank you..." he stopped, licking your blood off his lips, "for letting me drink from you." your hand found its way onto his hair, petting it gently - "how does it taste?" you ask, genuine curiosity laced in your voice. "it's so good, indescribable, really. from now on I'll never drink anything else." he smiled bashfully and ducked between your decorated legs again. "stop teasing" you whined, as he continued sucking hickeys onto your inner thighs, "can't-" another kiss, "help myself." fed up with him playing around, you grabbed his hair and pulled his face to your weeping pussy, thighs pressing together to hold him there. surprised at your sudden dominance, he gasped, his hands shot up to hold your waist and bring you even closer. without wasting time, he started licking a long stripe down your folds and up again, sucking your clit into his mouth. your arched your back off his bed with a shout, to which he grabbed a tight hold of you, stopping your wiggling with an immense strength. he continued focusing on your clit, moving his tongue in infinity shapes against your sensitive nub, sucking and having you feel his fangs scrape against it. gaara moved one of his hands to start fingering your dripping hole, amazed at how you got so incredibly wet for him. he felt you sucking his fingers in with greed, tightening and pulsing around him - imagining bullying his cock inside you, he felt his dick hardening more at the thought of it. looking up to watch your ecstatic face, gaara almost came in his pants. especially after hearing you moan and scream out his name so sweetly. he felt you trying to push his mouth closer - the thought of having you sit on his face next time shot through his mind as he continued pleasing you with eagerness - watching your tear-strained face tipping closer to the edge. "gaara...m...close! so close!" you moaned and started babbling praises at him, how good it felt and how he shouldn't stop, that he's the best you ever had and you never wanna leave. his heart started to beat quicker and with a final push of his tongue, you broke down. a loud moan escaped you and he felt your pussy spasming and creaming against his face, absolutely drunk on the feeling of having so much of you on him.

"so...what else do you like to read?" you were trailing random shapes on gaara's chest. after a shower, some romantic banter and you putting on one of his shirts, you cuddled on his bed, using it for the first time in ages, probably. he let out a soft chuckle and pulled his arm tighter around you, "I like mieko kawakami."

[sthefystarker]

Holiday Gift Exchange for @starker-sorbet

@starkerfestivals Holiday Gift Exchange for @starker-sorbet

Moodboard + drabble-ish? Hope you like it, darling! <3

*Warning: SIM, mentions of blood and violence.

Tony Stark didn't consider himself a romantic person, not at all.

Ever since the press had branded him as narcissistic, pedantic, and an arrogant power-monger (perhaps being arrogant was a major disadvantage of being an only child, he thought), Tony knew that being his father's son, carrying the family legacy and the stigma that was passed down from generation to generation, being able to carry the burden of the Stark name on his back, as he grew up, Tony had to build his emotional barriers and become what he had least wanted all along: to be a son of a bitch. Yet life itself demanded it of him. In order to survive.

The Mercenary of Death, that soulless egomaniac who just for the fun of it slept with everyone, but never discovered for himself, next to someone, what love really was. That was why, even if he didn't know it, Tony Stark felt incomplete.

Nevertheless, he was a very busy man. In his world, having money equaled having power. The more money he had, the more power he acquired. And Tony soon discovered that very few people wanted to get serious with him. This reality, often, in his lonely nights, the ones where his inner demons fought, made him laugh through his tears. Because everyone wanted something from Tony Stark, but no one seemed to really want him.

Little by little, Tony, by survival instinct, had to bury that soft part of him. The one where he put his selfishness aside, and focused on genuinely caring for the other person. In short, in a cruel corporate world, full of business deals and hidden tricks up his sleeve, Tony Stark's heart seemed to harden each time. A heart of iron, that seemed to resist every betrayal and stab in the back from people who claimed to call themselves, his friends. Rhodey, Happy and Pepper were the exception, of course. They were always his exception. And Tony believed for a moment that they would be, forever.

Until one fine day, after several years where Tony is not only a billionaire philanthropist but also a superhero, Iron Man meets a boy with curious eyes and brown hair, this young man just saved his life, while fighting with some dangerous criminals who wanted to steal one of his latest inventions: The Extremis.

He is very talkative, Tony notes, as this young man repeats to him over and over again that it is not necessary to get his money, that he had helped him because those men were doing evil, and it was the right thing to do. Tony, of course, didn't understand any of that. His life could be calculated in billions and billions of dollars and this guy had just saved him.

"Look, imagine I'm like the genie in a bottle: You just saved Tony Stark's life! You have 3 wishes." Tony told him with a serious expression, although with a certain humor in his voice.

The boy shook his head. "I still can't believe I'm talking to you," the young man guffawed, "it's just that, I'm your biggest fan!"

Oh. That piqued Tony's interest: the boy was gorgeous. Not only that, but he seemed to be a lot smarter than he looked. Tony wanted to test him.

And he wasn't disappointed.

Peter Parker far exceeded his expectations. In Tony's eyes, Peter was the purest being he had ever known. That terrified him, because he sensed that at any moment someone else would come along and take him away, or worse, taint him with evil.

And Tony, despite considering himself to be without goodness, wanted Peter to be his. For him alone. And so he confessed it to the young man, on a rainy night, because Tony could no longer keep it to himself.

"Don't be silly, Tony. If anything, it makes me love you even more. I'd be very happy if you'd go out with me." The young man told him, his cheeks flushed but with a firm look that made him rethink things.

Tony nodded, and took the first step, one that would completely change both of their lives: he approached the young man's face, gently stroked his hair, moving it a little away from his forehead, and kissed him."

From that moment on, Tony Stark's life would take a 180-degree turn. Weeks and months passed, and Peter remained by his side, unconditional. Making love to this young man was something that seemed otherworldly, and Tony swore he would protect him from all evil, and Peter, ecstatic, believed his promises. The young boy did not ask for much, except that Tony would only love him back.

Tony's hands were shaking, in his pocket he always carried a small box with him, waiting for the perfect moment to propose his hand.

Unfortunately, that moment never came. Because it was taken away from him.

When Tony found Peter on the floor one day, bleeding and with no chance of coming back to life, he went mad. Completely insane, because in his arms lay lifeless the reason for his sanity. He tried everything, he even turned to the Mystic Arts to see if he could bring him back to life, but his best friend, Strange (who just seemed to be going through the same situation with his ex-fiancée Christine), advised him to try something else, because handling the Mystic Arts took time and that, of course, was the last thing Tony wanted.

Tony just wanted to kill them all. He wanted to kill the culprit who destroyed the person he loved most in the world. Tony Stark wanted to carry out his revenge. So in a fit of rage, he began injecting himself with more Extremis than necessary and made an exclusive deal with Clea: he would jump between universes until he could find a Peter Parker who was just as lonely and broken as he was.

Although nothing and no one could ever replace his Peter, Tony had reached the breaking point, one where he couldn't be too picky: he just wanted to be with Peter Parker. No matter who he was, Tony was confident he could fall in love again. If all the Peter Parkers in the Multiverse shared the same soul, then it wouldn't take much for him to fall in love again.

Until one fine day, he found it.

"Mr. Stark…?" Ayoung man murmured. His hair was a bit more disheveled and his features were younger than I remembered. He was wearing a suit that looked much like the one he had once designed.

Tony could see the blood dripping from Peter Parker's fingers, that Peter Parker seemed to be very violent, judging by the pile of corpses lying at his feet.

He knew he would have no problem with that, figuring they could still say nice things to each other and make love-laden promises in their moments of intimacy.

He could see how disbelief was painted on Peter's face, as if Tony really was a ghost, or some figment of his imagination. It was there that Iron Man knew he had finally hit upon the right universe. After all, he couldn't be such a son of a bitch to himself and snatch the happiness of another Tony Stark in any universe. God knows they would need each other.

"Hello, Peter." Tony smiled, because he knew the man wouldn't put up much resistance if he proposed to destroy the world together.

And then, nothing and no one would separate them. Not again.

[scintillasofbeomgyu]

➷ you want to suck my what? | l.hs

profiles — brothers blood 🫀

tw: blood mentions under the cut!

heeseung: father of six, student council president, ace of the music department, decelis academy’s most eligible bachelor — and vampire. but if you’ve joined us in the name of gore, manipulation and flipped humanity switches, you might as well take your leave right now. while the oldest of Decelis’ seven (?) vampires has the looks of one who could k!ll, he is the most demure of them all,. Almost always keeping his bloodlust in check, Heeseung opts to use his gifts (or his curse) only when necessary. is very secretive about his past, jaded and estranged with love, he is open only with his “brothers”, until a particular human enters his life.

jungwon: y/n’s best friend and the victim of her furry tendencies (Godspeed wonnie 🤧). despite the countless grey hairs her unhinged behaviour has sprouted, he regards her as family and has dreamed of attending Decelis Academy with her ever since they were young. or that was, until an accident unveiled the secret world living between his.

jay: since heeseung’s almost always brooding in a corner, following the headmaster’s orders or making sure none of the other stooges reveal their secret to the other students, jay is his second-in-command and is the one who is taking care of him. a fantastic cook, the ace of the fashion & design club, and a certified (by a pin he made himself) jungwon protector. is either a stickler for the rules or rule breaker, there is no in-between 😭

jake: resident flirty boy-next-door 🤕. he somehow manages to be a jock AND a (aggressively competitive) nerd. is as scared of the female species as he is enamored with them. he talks a big game when in reality he’s just a sappy scorpio who’s as much of a hopeless romantic as the rest of us ... and it became ten times worse when he eventually became a vampire 😮‍💨 but he loves it though! isn’t as great as controlling the bloodlust yet and isn’t a fan of blood bags 🤕 ni-ki’s partner in crime !

sunghoon: Decelis’ best figure-skater and the self-proclaimed “face of the sports team”. he is a bit of a damon salvatore: eccentric, to the point where he’s a little bit of an ass, and prefers to have his drink warm. but it’s okay, since his pretty privelage affords him that much 😵‍💫 don’t be fooled however, under that cocky exterior is just ... even cockier 🤕

sunoo: (1/3) fledglings. turning kinda made him even more of a badass 😭🤚🏼he has absolutely no filter and will call you out for each and everything. is a coffee addict and is the "god" of the art club because of it. dabbles in a bit of theatre. has threatened sunghoon with a stake before for teasing him 💀

ni-ki: (1/3) fledglings. no filter pt. 2, but with a pinch of crazy. jake’s partner in crime. became a vamp because he was obsessed and banged on jake’s door every single day until he agreed to turn him 🤠, hence him becoming jake’s problem 😭 is absolutely in love with the fact that he gets to be a minor forever, allows him the privelage of chasing away icky yucky creeps who want to make moves on him 🤗 (/hj). took him no time to become the ace of the dance team !!

prev. | mlist | next

after an extra year of hardwork and dedication, y/n makes it into the most prestigious school in the country – decelis academy. but what awaits her through it’s iron gates is a hell of a ride; filled with crackhead roommates, secret-harbouring childhood friends, the mysterious student council, millennia-old rivarly and a bloody, bloody romance.

taglist: @coffeeew @ddeonuism @harperwasstaken1 @luvmura (send an ask to be added!)

scintillasofbeomgyu © all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter, or repost in any way.

[mischiefmaker615]

Senpai

Summary: *requested* your an anime weeb cosplaying to attend your first con- what happens if you run into your boyfriend..

Rating: PG

You quickly closed the door behind you before your fingers moved to practically rip your uniform off. You have been waiting practically forever for this day to come and you weren’t going to waist a single moment still in your SHIELD uniform when you could be finally putting on your cosplay and making your way to anime con. Luckily it was just down the street from the tower this year so you were already yelling down the halls for Jarvis to call a cab by the time you reached your bedroom. And the best part was: the character you were dressing as- Albedo from Overlord- already had black wings ironically like yours! It was probably why it was one of your favorite animes because it made you feel more relatable.. minus the violence of course.  Having already gotten your bag ready the night before, you already were getting your costume on that almost hugged your body just as well as your own work jumpsuit. Thank goodness you had tried it on before hand for it to fit considering breathing in this thing for the whole weekend might have dampened your mood a little bit. Once your hair was already set after placing the horns on your head, make up in place and bag in hand, you would have kept on time if you hadn’t have run into your boyfriend- Loki!

Here’s the thing, no one, not even he knew the extent of your life outside of work. True you were still new lovers, but even the team who housed under the same roof was shut out of your private life.. maybe because your weeb life style got a bit made fun of back in the day. Considering you thought for the most part the tower was empty for the day and planned on sneaking out, your wings fluffed in anticipation and fear when your man turned with annoyance to see who had rammed into him. ‘’by all the nine realms would you- Y/N!?’’ his words were cut short with his eyes widening by the sight of you.  You were pretty proud at your cosplay.. but people you personally knew, let alone your boyfriend suddenly made you feel extremely embarrassed and your arms immediately covered yourself with your mouth trying to explain as fast as you could ‘’I’m just going to this fan expo and most people dress up as characters and I didn’t think I was going to run into anyone and I’m sorry for bumping into you and- will you quit s-staring??”’ you stammered as his expression lost its shock with extreme interest, his eyes raking up and down your frame with a sly smile spreading against his lips. ‘’darling, I have no idea what half that sentence meant but why haven’t you done this before?? You are absolutely gorgeous!’’ he exclaimed as his hands moved to your waist, running over your frame as he stepped closer hungrily and redness crept over your cheeks.  ‘’its only for the weekend.. people who enjoy the same shows and movies gathering now and again together to hang out, dress as characters, buy things- pretty much this whole festival thing..’’ you say sheepishly, a giggle escaping as his fingers pressed accidently at your tickle spots on your sides and he took your hands in his with a smile. ‘’I knew you enjoyed reading those.. backwards novels and those.. high pitched cartoons but I didn’t know you were practically worshipping the hobby..’’ ‘’I wouldn’t say that,’’ you laugh ‘’but I do really enjoy them- but I gotta catch my cab, I’ll be back in a few hours-‘’ you warn him but his hands remain on yours at the very mention of you leaving him. ‘’why don’t I go with you love? If you are to be wearing this, I cant have those mortals drinking up free glances without them knowing you are taken’’ he suggested, his eyes very rarely meeting yours as his hands catch your waist again, his thumbs gently stroking the exposed skin on your hips as you bit your lip. ‘’your not even into this stuff- you barely like watching the tv as it is-‘’ ‘’if I would have known it would be leading up to this type of.. entertainment, I would have been more open to it’’ he smirked, his eyes piercing yours a moment before his hand gently ran across one of your horns as if to see if they were actually real; making you more proud at your work.  ‘’mm  suppose we could try to see if we could get you a ticket upon getting there..’’ you think out loud before taking his hand so your horns wont fall of your head and you giggle before giving him a serious tone ‘’but I don’t want you giving anyone looks,’’ ‘’I don’t-‘’ ‘’or calling anything of any sort stupid-‘’ ‘’that was one ti-‘’ ‘’orrr trying to pull me away every two seconds. We.. do a lot of that hear-‘’ you warn him, your voice quiet as if someone was around as your cheeks redden at that thought before returning your gaze to his ‘’I want this to be purely fun and educational for you only. Plus some authors are going to be there and would hate to miss-‘’ ‘’alright darling, I promise,’’ Loki chuckled and cupped your cheeks ‘’I’ll be following your lead and be on my best behavior.’’ He promised and gently kissed your lips before taking your hand for you to lead the way.

~~~

You stumble into your room finally before throwing your purse to the side- of course setting your new merch much more carefully down- and Loki following close behind as you both sigh from the exhausting day. ‘’and that was only the first day?’’ Loki questioned as he popped down on your bed tiredly- magically perking up when he noticed you preparing to undress. ‘’second day is tomorrow- usually there’s new items, people dressed up, celebrities and authors, etc’’ you explain and remove the horns from your head finally and push your hair out of your face. Noticing Loki watching you, you purposefully turned your back and slowly began to undress as you spoke ‘’your welcome to join again but I plan on getting there as early as I can to milk the tickets..’’ ‘’right..’’ Loki said, distracted as he tried to listen as you pull the outfit down and carefully slip your wings out before it could fall completely to the floor but he tried to keep the conversation going so you ‘wouldn’t notice’ his eyes ‘’and um.. remind me again what this.. sub and dub is..’’ Now in only your undergarments, you slowly walk to your wardrobe, eyes on it only as you pretend you look through at what you wish to wear, hiding a smirk as you feel his eyes on you from behind ‘’sub is if you wish to read wording at the bottom of the screen to help translate what the characters are saying in a different language..’’ you explain and pull out a silky night gown, holding it up and looking it over as if debating on if it will do ‘’dub is if you wish to watch it in English and not have to read it instead.’’  You almost jump when you feel a hand reach over your shoulder and take hold of the gown, snatching it from your fingers before it is tossed aside, an arm snaking around your waist all the while as your back comes in contact with a chest.  ‘’your doing this on purpose aren’t you darling..’’ You could practically hear his amusement in his smile as he lets you turn around to wrap your arms around his neck, coyly looking up at him as you get closer ‘’I learn from the best after all..’’ ‘’well you’ve most certainly have taught me much on what you very much take pleasure in darling, how about I take this time to teach you what I take pleasure in?..’’ he smirked, his voice getting a bit lower as his hands ran slowly to rest on your hips, thumbs rubbing against your skin as you had a hard time realizing that he had been turning you both so the bed was now right behind you. ‘’and what is it that you wish to enjoy teaching me?’’ you asked innocently, seeing the mischief and lust spark in his eyes as his finger tips added very little pressure to indicate he was about to shove you backward. ‘’..pleasure..’’

[emeryleewho]

Do you mind if I ask your top 10 favorite characters (can be male or female) from all of the media that you loved (can be anime/manga, books, movies or tv series)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before.....Thanks...

Hello!

So I know you sent this awhile ago and I took ages to get to it, but I just really wanted to do this justice because this is such a big ask and I take my responsibilities as a fan very seriously. I'm also going to have to caveat the fact that "all of the media that I have loved" is too many media to be able to truly answer this question with 100% accuracy, so instead, I opted for

My Top 10 Favorite Characters (In Recent Memory) That I Feel Best Portray What I Love In Characters (But I'm Very Sorry To Anyone Who Should've Been On This List But I Just Kind of Forgot) in no particular order:

Gojo (Jujutsu Kaisen)

I am sorry to be a basic bitch, but Gojo may be my favorite character in anything ever. I hate that I am so predictable, but the white haired anime character trope absolutely kills me. Also, I am obsessed with a character who is like... too op to function, but also still very flawed. Also characters who are Sunshine Silly Goofs on the surface but so haunted and devastating under the surface. I admire the way he's The Great Protector of everyone but also makes sometimes callous choices, and I am obsessed with the fact that he is essentially the god of their world, but is still just... so very fragile and human. Also, like, he's so hot. Just so hot. That's also important.

2. Daddy Nanami (Jujutsu Kaisen)

I literally cannot stand watching this show. Like I want to throw up watching it because I love these bitches so much. Anyway, I tried REALLY hard not to like Nanami. Like I fought it so hard because he was obviously a doomed character from his intro, but I could not stop myself because I love the Sulky Blonde anime character trope for some reason, but also like... he's so hot. I want to watch him do my taxes. Also like... he's so relatable. Doesn't want to work overtime. Doesn't want to keep playing this shitty game where everyone dies young and bathes in the blood of teenagers, but also like, what? You expect him to work in corporate hell? Just let people die? He's not gonna fucking do that. He's that voice of reason every anime group probably needs, but he's also so hot, and like so grumpy but so kind, and so Responsible and Mature, but also so soft, and I love the way he takes care of those damn kids, okay? I just... *runs away sobbing*

3. Kurapika (HunterxHunter)

My favorite trope when I was younger was the "looks like they could kill you but is actually a sweetie" thing, but as I've gotten older, I've really come to appreciate what it is to be fully capable of being an all-powerful, cold-blooded killer and just... choose not to do that. Kurapika is the epitome of "character I just want to hug and protect forever" because he's been through so much and it's only made him stronger, but also like he shouldn't have to go through all that? And I adore that he's so mature and so strong and so capable and he protects everyone and puts villains in their place and all that jazz but he's also just a sweet kid who loves his friends and I love him so much oh my god.

4. Gao Yizhi (Iron Widow)

(See above regarding Kurapika) I have talked about Iron Widow as one of my favorite books of all time, but while Li Shimin is just a fabulous fucking character who once upon a time definitely would've been my favorite, Gao Yizhi stole my heart by just... being pretty... like soft pretty boy but also don't look at him too long because the devil burns behind his eyes and he will kill you. That is the finest of aesthetics, but also like... this man is so concerning. I would not trust him for a moment. And yet, he is just whipped for Wu Zetian, and that is literally what everyone should look for in a boyfriend.

5. Dazai (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Speaking of concerning, I first fell in love with Dazai because I loved how much he wants to die (don't call the cops, this was like a decade ago, and I am better now), but tbh I love how cute and silly and flirty he is on the surface to cover up the fact that he is just a downright nightmare of a human being. This man is a menace. He could kill literally anyone. And in another life, he probably would have, but now he's just chilling, taking care of his kids and fucking with his ex, and I love that for him. He is literally the perfect villain, and yet... he's not really doing anything that bad anymore. Go figure.

(Also, sidenote, I recently read No Longer Human, and not only did it give me a profound appreciation for Osamu Dazai as a person, but it really put his character into context that makes me adore this show even more, so yeah.)

6. Shinobu (Demon Slayer)

She is so mad. She is so angry. Yet she is a cutesy little girl in butterfly garb floating around saving people, I--yeah, it's very clear from this list that I have a type, but whatever. I love Shinobu because she's small and tiny and sweet, but she's also a major badass who can and will kill you. She's the only hashira who's physically too weak to decapitate demons so she kills them with poison, like??? This girl said "the gods didn't make me powerful, so I made me powerful", and that is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. She's surviving on spite alone, and she's whooping everyone's asses that way. An icon. A true hero. I adore her.

7. Vanitas (The Case Study of Vanitas)

This one's back to my roots, but I love a tragic character like Vanitas. I just... I love a man so broken you have to wonder if he's even a person anymore. I love how wretched and painful and horrific his past is and how divorced he feels from humanity, and also like those little claws get me every time. Idk. I know, I'm weird. Whatever. The flippant, antagonistic, flamboyance on the surface to cover an empty, wretched, devastated soul underneath just struggling to survive? *chef's kiss*

8. Scorpion King (Word of Honor)

Scorpion King is basically the opposite of all my above examples, but I love him for the same reasons. This is a man who is heartless, ruthless, an absolute murderer. He kills for fun. He has no regard for human life... EXCEPT HIS FUCKING GODFATHER. Like this is a villain who could easily have burned the entire world with his cunning and power and literally all he wanted was for his dad to fucking love him??? He would have broken himself down day in and day out just for that affection, and that's the sort of sick, twisted, vile love I want to see in a villain. Just the sort of absolutely poisoned, twisted, abusive affection that makes me absolutely feral. He could have been the ULTIMATE villain, and he was absolutely DESTROYED because he just wanted to be LOVED. Delicious.

9. Muichiro (Demon Slayer)

This is a BABY. Just... A BABY!!! Literally a tragic character, but what I love about him is just how casually perfect he is. He's supposed to be weak, pathetic, useless. He is NOT. He comes off kind of airheaded at the beginning, but he is truly just... the most impressive. I want to protect him always, but also, everyone should be scared of him. (Except me, I am good to him so he will be kind to me in turn :))

10. Crowley (Good Omens)

Once again, an exceptional villain. Or, you know, could be, except he fell in love with an annoying fucking angel so now he's barely a menace, mostly just kind of a fool who wastes his time around a bookshop all day (both relatable and kinda aspirational, ngl). I love Crowley both because he is so not evil that it's actually kinda funny despite having all the evil energy and aesthetic, but the thing I love MOST about him is the way he just absolutely spits in the face of gender. Gender who? He wouldn't know. He is all gender. He is no gender. He is the divine lord of gender, and I worship at his feet in the hopes that he'll give me a little gender as a treat. Just truly a trans icon AND a menace at the same time, and I can think of nothing better. (Also, I have a thing for David Tennant. Always have. His accent does things for me so this doesn't help. Whoops.)

Anyway, yes, this concludes my Top 10 Characters [blah, blah...] List. If you are not familiar with any of the above media, I highly recommend them, but also like... these are not Wholesome(tm) and simple media. I like weird shit. If that was not obvious from my talking about these freaks, now you know. Be warned.

Also thank you for the ask!!!

[braxien12]

Standoff With Mikey

Pairing: Mikey x OC! Hibiki

The music was a muffled symphony from the peace of the balcony. The full moon shone brightly from above much like its avatar from below; and wearing a red, fitted dress that hugged every curve and flowed like water at the end. She looked just as beautiful as she did when they were kids. Her back was facing him and the gun in his hand felt a little heavier, the trigger a little harder to pull.

“Why are you here, Mikey?”

There it was. That old nickname he hasn’t heard in years. Hearing it again from her lips and in her voice was sweeping nostalgia, strong enough to almost make him fall to his knees.

“Are you here to beat me within an inch of my life like you did our friends?” she paused, a small sniffle reaching his ears. She was crying. She never liked crying in front of people. “Or are you going to kill me, too?” She turned around. The mask that served as the strongest tell of her family’s namesake was lying on the balcony’s railing. Her face was uncovered and so, so telling. Maybe that’s why she liked to wear it so much.

“Hibiki.” Her name felt so weird, yet refreshing on his tongue. It’s been so long. She closed her eyes at the sound of it, feeling it reverberate over her like a slow song, and let it engulf just for a little while.

“Takemichi reached out to you.”

She opened her eyes. Her nose twitched, a cute little move she had whenever she was able to lie. She shuffled in her spot, swinging her right foot behind and in front of the other repeatedly. It brought back a memory of how she would always fiddle with her shoes whenever she wore heels. Walking barefoot was second nature to her and shoes were like the bane of her existence. It looks like she’s still uncomfortable wearing them.

“He listens to you. Tell him to back off.”

She huffed out a small laugh and spread out one of her hands on the railing. She tapped her finger against the iron. Once, twice, a third time.

"You know, there was a time when you used to listen to me too."

"That was in the past."

"And who's fault is that, Mikey?"

"Stop calling me that!"

He readjusted his grip on the gun and that may have been the first time she regarded the gun in his hand.

"Tell him to back off and forget we ever had this conversation."

"Takemichi said you asked him to save you."

There was a furrow of his brow but besides that neither his face nor his blank eyes gave nothing away. She took one step towards him.

He shot a bullet inches from her feet. Stay back.

"Takemichi has a mind of his own, and, as you know, when he sets his mind to something he does it. As for me." A sharp gust of wind blew, fanning out her hair and her dress with it. A strong scent of citrus and ocean water, a perfume she could never go without when they were younger.  She still smelt the same. She still smelled like home.

"I've never given up on you, and I refuse to do so now." She tapped the balcony. Once, twice. Then she walked towards the door so gracefully that the only indication that she wasn't floating was the rhythmic tapping of her heels.

"I love you, Sano Manjiro. As much as the moon loves the sun, but I refuse to let you stay in this eclipse forever."

[the-night-writer1]

can we get red boy sick as a prompt pls pls pls 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

It was a Saturday morning as Red son made his way to the kitchen. Expecting to see his brother Red boy already up making coffee like Red boy did every morning. Yet there was no sign of Red boy. Which was very unusual.

Red boy was never one to sleep in so he went to check on him.

To Red son's horror he heard puking as soon as he approached Red boy's door. Was his brother sick?! Red son slammed the door open to see Red boy barely pushing himself off the floor as he puked. At least he wasn't in his bed but still the sight wasn't pretty.

"Mother! Father! Red boy is ill and I need help to bathe him!" Red son yelled down the hallway before entering his brother's room. He grabbed the trash can RB must have tried to get to before this began. Then brought it over propping his brother on to it.

Red boy wouldn't be happy with him calling his parents for assistance but it was needed. Red son couldn't just let his brother suffer because RB wasn't a fan of their parents. Surprisingly their mother was the first to rush to the room. He figured father be first due to Red boy's refusal for mother's touch all waking moments of the day.

"your Father's getting the doctor" Iron fan said as she rushed over to help get hair out of her oldest's face," darling why didn't you call out for help?"

Red boy didn't respond but Red son knew the answer better than their mother did. RB didn't want help, he never wanted assistance from anyone and he most likely misjudged how sick he truly was. It was just how Red boy was.

"hopefully the doctor can stop the vomiting mother" Red son said as he took his hair tye out to pull RB's hair back," so we can give him a bath."

"certainly they will. Please find some new clothes for your brother" Iron fan directed as she checked Red boy's temperature. Her worry only growing when he didn't try to stop her. She hadn't been able to touch him in many years due to his refusal. Definitely her boy was very ill.

"yes mother" Red son said after Red boy's hair was in a ponytail. It wasn't much longer before the doctor and Dbk appeared. Red boy had a very bad case of the stomach flu according to the doctor.

Iron fan refused to leave him alone with how out of it her baby boy was. The last time Red boy gotten this sick they'd nearly lost him. Red son was forced to stay away so he wouldn't catch it. Didn't mean he didn't sneak in to check on his twin.

---

"... someone needs...to warn flea brain..." Red boy mumbled softly barely awake as Iron fan was gently running her fingers through his hair. He was still out of it as he was laying on her," he could...get ... could..."

"shh... I'll send your brother to warn them... rest my darling" Iron fan spoke softly as a bull bot changed the IV bag. She found it sweet that her son was worried about his lil rival. It was the first coherent thing Red boy said all day. The rest had been dribble no one could understand.

She missed holding Red boy like this, his head in her lap and running her fingers through his soft hair. Red son's hair carried more heat, even when he was calm it still leaves her hand lightly burned. Red boy's hair however was much cooler and closer to her own hair. He never had the elemental power Red son did. Her lil boy had his father's endurance rather than her elemental fortitude. He could still use it but it wasn't his core being unlike Red son and herself. That endurance had been just as difficult to manage as Red son's flame but they couldn't reduce it like they could their youngest's unstable flame.

She had taken the wrong actions trying too Iron fan though as she glanced at the scars on his arms. Scars from when he was much younger, and her foolishly cruel attempt to contain Red boy. Red son was not with them at the time and Red boy had been grieving so was rebellious. She had chained him up when he refused to listen to her. It forever changed their relationship and she didn't know if it could ever be repaired even with the chains gone the damage remained.

Dbk was hopeful it would repair with time but she lacked the same hope. Red boy had to be very ill just for her to comfort him. He hadn't called her mother in centuries. If Red son wasn't still wanting to impress them Red boy surely never be around. Thus she had to enjoy the comfort she could give in the moment as she wouldn't get to later.

[wordsandrobots]

IBO reference notes on . . . assorted head-canons

Was planning to put this up later in the week but it's been one of those days that make me want to throw stuff online to make myself feel better. Nothing too involved, just various things I head-canon about Iron-Blooded Orphans. Some of these have come up in my fics, others are simply things I keep in mind while writing them. Likely not an exhaustive list, so I may do another post like this later. Under a cut to hide one or two spoilers.

Oh, and on the off chance anyone has something else IBO-related they're interested in my opinion/head-canon on, please don't hesitate to sling an ask my way. This show has literally been eating my brain for a year and three quarters.

The Bauduin Family's blue hair is the result of genetic meddling. An ancestor really liked the colour and decided to make it stick forever. This had the unintentional side-effect of giving the family the lowest incidence of by-blows in the Seven Stars, because all its sons are painfully aware any 'accidents' outside of wedlock are going to be really, really obvious.

A long sword/katana is Barbatos' original main weapon. That's why Mika suddenly understands how to use one correctly when he connects more deeply to the system. I have a few ideas about what its first pilot was like, but she is basically a complete OC so beyond the scope of this post.

The original, 'pure' Alaya-Vijnana is safer to use. A lot of what happens to Mika is the result of him being implanted with the knock-off, bastardised version. This is why McGillis experiences no loss of motor function despite using Bael at a similar level of power. The fact I also picture almost all the original pilots as suffering some degree of paralysis speaks entirely to how bad the Calamity War got. Essentially, it took months, even years, of running the A-V at full tilt for them to reach where Mika is after Edmonton.

Agnika Kaieru was a cold-hearted bastard. Think Heero Yuy's consideration for his own happiness and well-being coupled to a functioning understanding of human nature and how to get people to do what he wanted. This guy could screw over those close to him in ways McGillis can only dream of.

Not that McGillis realises this because the central 'joke' running through my Calamity War head-canons is that, as a historical document, 'The Life of Agnika Kaieru' isn't worth the paper it's printed on. It's pure propaganda, the result of the original Seven Stars covering for the fact their leader was a manipulative arsehole who ended his days using Gundam Bael as a life-support machine.

Aside from McGillis deliberately creating distance between them, the main reason Carta fell out with him is because Iznario pulled strings to get her an early promotion to colonel. She wanted to earn it but wasn't given a chance, and had to watch McGillis sail up the ranks without any assistance at all. She's been overcompensating for the inferiority complex this created ever since.

Orga has always been able to read Eugene like a cheap novel and the reason he's Orga's go-to driver at the start of the show is that Orga knows he cares far more about being seen to do a good job than getting one over on his replacement as Third Group leader. The same logic applies to making him deputy boss.

Eugene's brain is wired such that his spacial awareness works better across large distances and in three dimensions than close-to and on one plane. This is why he's so adept at space combat and so crap at it on the ground. In space, he has breathing room and can move any way he wants; in ground skirmishes, he quickly becomes overwhelmed and locks-up for lack of options.

Mikazuki made a regular thing about working on Sakura Farm with Biscuit but Orga generally didn't accompany them. This is because Orga is not a fan of physical labour and his napping at the start of the very first episode is fairly typical of how he spends his breaks.

Ride doesn't join Kudelia's classes because he already knows how to read. He wasn't particularly better off than the others, but he did get some schooling before joining the CGS. Yamagi also knows how to read long before the series starts, probably owing to Yukinojo training him up as a second head-mechanic.

Age-order for Tekkadan, running oldest to youngest, goes something like: Dane, Dante, Akihiro, Chad, Eugene, Orga, Biscuit [16, S1], Zack, Shino, Hush, Mikazuki, Atra, Yamagi, Derma, Aston, Takaki [13, S1], Ride, Trow, Embi and Elgar, Hirume. I take Shino to be the youngest of the secondary boys (about 16, S1), and Yamagi to be the oldest of the tertiary trio (~15, S1). Even accounting for the general haggardness of the human debris' designs, Dante's character model looks older than the rest to me, so he comes in ahead of everyone except Dane, who I imagine has a fair few years on him. The younger kids are hard to be sure about, but I figure Ride is about 11 or 12 to begin with, and the others seem to be one to two years younger than him.

Character sexuality – because are we writing fanfic here or not? These are the ones I've given thought to. Anyone not listed, I haven't considered in enough depth to care who they want to sleep with.

Mikazuki: Straight. Sorry guys. I don't even read him as being on the ace spectrum, though I understand how you could.

Kudelia: Probably pansexual, not that she's considered it very closely.

Atra: Definitely, very, extremely bi.

Orga: 100% asexual and occasionally embarrassed by his inability to grasp what the big deal is supposed to be. By which I mean, people sometimes mock him for it, and by people, I mean Eugene and Shino.

Akihiro: ???? As in, if you asked, that'd be his response. A row of question marks to the tune of 'I have literally never given this a single thought in my life and I'm too busy to care.'

Eugene: Thinks he's straight. It's adorable. He's actually into anyone who'll treat him good and tell him he's doing OK.

Shino: Has known he's bisexual for years but internalised that the cool, macho thing is to be very into girls. Which, I mean, he is very into girls, but also sex is good regardless of which bits the other person has.

Dante: Straight. Dante is very boring in this regard.

Chad: Panromantic and demisexual. Chad wants to be loved, and everything else slightly scares him because he doesn't know where to start.

Yamagi: Gay (canon!) and somewhat kinky with it, since he approaches sex as an engineering problem and is, at heart, a control freak.

Takaki: Curious. Essentially a big 'TBA' on the whole sexuality thing. He'll get back to you after he's tried a few things.

Gaelio: Bi and hopelessly romantic with it. Prior to everything, he tended to fall in and out of love on a weekly basis. Bit of a commitment-phobe, but genuinely caring while actually in a relationship.

McGillis: Do not even go there. Long ago locked all his actual wants and desires in a box marked 'irrelevant' and threw away the key.

Julieta: Grey/demisexual. Would need a long run-up, probably involving a lot of frustration because why is [traditional relationship marker] even necessary?

Azee: Loosely bi, on the ace spectrum. Slightly more in love with Amida than Naze.

Eco: Straight. She and Yamagi take turns sympathising with and mocking each other for their equally terrible taste in men.

Argi Mirage: Asexual in an 'I don't need anyone else to take care of my sex-drive' way.

Grown-up!Ride: Firmly aromantic. Exists in a constant state of vague surprise about the things people do together.

All these sexuality descriptors are approximate modern-day translations because Post-Disaster, how people express their attraction has moved on to different phraseology.

That incident Shino shuts Zack up about because he cannot have anyone knowing it happened? Yeah, Shino ran into a dominatrix and became incoherently turned on by the experience. This is about the only sexual thing I can imagine him being worried others might find out about. Anything else could be hand-waved along the lines of 'I'm so hot, even the boys want me', but if people discover he has a submissive streak wide enough to drive a tank down, his life is over. Obviously, re: everything I've done with Shino in my fics, he grows out of being concerned by this. Not that it would have survived two seconds in a relationship with Yamagi anyway.

Relatedly, Shino is the world's most turn-on-a-dime switch. Fundamentally, always the people-pleaser.

That actually is both Orga's scarf and Mikazuki's gun Ride has in the epilogue. He accidentally stole the scarf during the evacuation of the Isaribi, then picked the gun up after Orga's death, and has held on to both ever since.

Akatsuki is small for his age and basically indestructible. Along with his eyes, his stature and the ability to shrug off physical harm are the main things inherited from Mikazuki. That said, he's probably going to shoot up like a rocket once he hits adolescence, leading to jokes about him having somehow stolen a tall gene from the Bernsteins. He also spends a large chunk of his childhood obsessed with wolves. This is a complete coincidence: he read about them in a book of Earth animals and liked the way they smile.

And while it's not strictly head-canon, if I were ever tempted into doing an 'Iron-Blooded Orphans: The Next Generation' fic centred on him, I wouldn't under any circumstances put him in a Gundam. Akatsuki becoming a child soldier represents a total failure of everything achieved in the main story and, frankly, I'm not (quite) that cruel.

[hbcsource]

Interview with Helena Bonham Carter and Russell T. Davies for Radio Times | January 2023

INTERVIEWER: Ginny Dougary WHAT A STRIKING entrance they make! Russell T Davies, an imposing 6ft 6in, with Helena Bonham Carter a little over 5ft, by his side, waist-high. He is in his customary uniform of work shirt, jeans and desert boots. She is all vintage vibes, Miss Havishamesque in a dark emerald satin dress, radiating sparkles from several shiny necklaces and a diamanté clip artfully placed to guarantee her dark hair is not kept in place. We are in a green room in the depths of Queen Elizabeth Hall at London’s Southbank Centre, where the writer and the heroine of his latest television drama have been on a panel to promote the show – Nolly – and to explain why the main character of an almost forgotten soap opera is worthy of this stellar treatment. Nolly is Davies’s tribute to Noele Gordon (the drama took her nickname for its title), the star of Crossroads, the soap set in a motel in the fictional village of King’s Oak, near Birmingham. Known as the “Queen of the Midlands”, Gordon played motel chatelaine Meg Richardson and for those of us who watched it – at its peak it boasted 18 million viewers – she was the beating heart of the show. In its various incarnations, Crossroads ran from 1964 until 1988, but in 1981 fans woke up to the shocking news that its star had been sacked and four years later, Gordon died of cancer at the age of 65. Davies, who once wrote a trial episode for Crossroads in his early 20s, loved the soap and was always intrigued and saddened by Gordon’s removal and subsequent demise. In his skilled hands, what could have been a cheap crack at a soap whose tight budget was revealed when the walls visibly wobbled, has been transformed into something noble. It is an exploration of the apalling way women were treated, discarded seemingly on a whim and how anyone who didn’t fit into the expected mould was misunderstood. It is also the restoration into the limelight of someone who might otherwise have disappeared forever. Davies wants to show us the extent to which Nolly was a trailblazer and part of television history. Gordon was the first woman, for instance, to appear on colour television as well as the first female to interview a prime minister on screen (Harold Macmillan). STILL, HER LIFE is undeniably an odd subject, on the surface of it. As Davies says: “there are many reasons why you wouldn’t commission it. I mean, there’s nobody under the age of 50 who has heard of Noele Gordon. “I’ve been extraordinarily lucky to tell this story and that’s because of It’s a Sin [his critically acclaimed 2021 drama about the 1980s HIV/Aids crisis]. It’s one of those very rare moments in a career where people are saying, ‘What do you want to write?’” Was he concerned that his motivation might be assumed to be poking fun or ironic? “Very much so,” he admits. “Irony is paper thin. Irony only lasts two minutes. We’re proper drama makers and if you approach it to take the mickey, then the drama has no heart or soul. Why even attack a soap opera? You wouldn’t get three hours of drama from it.” Nevertheless, there will be people who are still mystified by the concept. “To be blunt, that’s when you cast Helena Bonham Carter because she lifts your standards and makes people look and say, ‘Well, that’s interesting!’” He turns to his star and adds: “you create an expectation of class and quality. Stop laughing! You know it’s true.” As part of Davies’s research into Gordon’s life, he read her autobiography and loved the constant barbs about how much the actors were paid on rival soap Coronation Street. “I used to work with Granada and they were treated properly there,” says Davies. “It’s got to be said that ATV didn’t treat the cast of Crossroads properly.” Bonham Carter’s accent flattens à la Nolly: “We had to buy our own costumes! We were only given £40.” He also spoke to the original Crossroads cast – Benny, Miss Diane et al – as well as floor managers and chorus boys who had worked with Gordon when she did Gypsy. “I’m not daft, I kept chipping away at the public front, but that’s when I started falling in love with her, because people kept telling me how much they loved her. I spoke to Tony Adams [who played accountant Adam Chance and along with Larry Grayson was one of Gordon’s closest friends. Mark Gatiss plays Larry Grayson in Nolly] and as time went on, I realised that they really adored her. She was strong and I’m not whitewashing her…” Bonham Carter chimes in. “She wasn’t easy but she had a lot of compassion and she treated people right. She was an impressive woman.” Davies is the son of two classics teachers and grew up in Swansea with his two sisters in a house where the TV was always on. When we first met in 2019 for his dystopian drama, Years and Years, he recalled that I, Claudius was the first time he had seen men kissing, which confirmed the way he felt about boys. BONHAM CARTER, who shares a son, 19, and a daughter, 14, with ex-husband, director Tim Burton, was brought up with her two brothers in Hampstead; her mother was a psychotherapist and her father a merchant banker. Much has been written about her illustrious forbears on both sides of the family (a prime minister, Lord Asquith, on the paternal side; Rothschilds and heroic figures who saved Jewish lives on the maternal). Her family also watched I, Claudius as well as Upstairs, Downstairs, The Forsyte Saga, Wings, Dad’s Army (“My dad’s favourite”), The Monkees, Happy Days and The Brady Bunch. As for Noele Gordon, “she was sort of like wallpaper, in the background”. What made her want to do the show? “It was a complete gift of a part,” she says. “With so many good scenes and story, she ended up being a very gallant woman. She has been mistreated but she doesn’t gloss over it, she says exactly what happened to her. There is nothing apologetic about her, I love that.” There is a strong scene when Gordon is talking to younger female cast members in the theatre about why she was sent packing, “Yes, ‘I was sacked because I was sackable’,” Bonham Carter quotes. Davies clarifies that this line, “was just me riffing on the role of women and how they were treated. “And it’s still true that women can be treated disgracefully, isn’t it?” he adds, turning to Bonham Carter. “Oh God, yeah,” she says. “I think when Sue Barker left A Question of Sport she said that she wasn’t given a choice…” Davies concurs with the comment, “and she had power and establishment and status…” “They keep on asking the opinion of people they never see and it’s such a cruel thing to do to your ego. All these likes and dislikes,” she finishes with a sigh. Davies is clearly as passionate about women’s rights. “We had Women’s Lib in the 60s and here girls are in 2023 and they think they ought to be slimmer with bigger busts, and sexy and on Love Island. Women, when are you ever gonna revolt?! Women, when are you ever going to say ‘Enough!’? “I look at my niece’s friends on Instagram and every inch of their faces is covered in make-up, fillers and extensions. Whatever happened to just having a good laugh?!” Davies is almost 60, Bonham Carter is close behind. They’re both sanguine about aging. Davies remembers his youthful concerns. “When you were young, you wouldn’t go out if you had a spot! Wouldn’t worry me now!” “It is liberating to be older,” Bonham Carter adds. “The skin isn’t necessarily as attractive but who cares?!” When Davies and I spoke last, it was six months after his husband, Andrew, had died. During his illness, Davies gave up work to be his carer. He said then that he hoped the loss would get easier – has it? “No and I don’t expect it will,” he says. “It isn’t killing me. I’m quite glad that I’ve gone back to writing Doctor Who because psychologically I’m thinking, ‘He knows what I’m doing now’. It gives me comfort. It’s when you do new things he never experienced that it feels odd and you don’t enjoy it so much.” “You don’t get better, but you get better at it,” interjects Bonham Carter, “that’s what my mum says.” The actor is no stranger to family sadness. When she was five, her mother had a breakdown, which took three years of recovery and led to her becoming a psychotherapist herself. When she was 13, Bonham Carter’s father was diagnosed with a tumour and during the operation to remove it, had a stroke that left him blind and half-paralysed. He died in 2004. Bonham Carter has been reading books about coping with death because she has lost friends and family over the years. She’s most anxious about how to prepare for her mother’s death. “I’m quite haunted by what life will be like without her, she’s been such a sensational mum,” she says. “It isn’t just the death, of course – it’s how much they are a part of you and how do you rearrange your sense of self without them? I’ve had a few friends who’ve gone and I really feel that I carry on with them within me. And when my dad died, I wrote a whole book to him because I had to keep talking to him.” “In some ways, it has got worse,” comments Davies, “because it’s ‘Oh, you’re still not coming back?’ Maybe it’s why Andrew keeps popping up in everything I write. Even in Nolly with the scenes of her cancer, I found myself visiting hospitals. There’s been death in a lot of the stuff I’ve written over the past few years. I don’t mind that. I’m glad. It feels richer.” Bonham Carter nods. “We have to incorporate it into our lives and talk about it. And even with divorce, too – people don’t talk about it. For those of us who are grieving a divorce or someone who has gone… our heads are full of that person. So this thing of ‘Don’t mention it…’” She shakes her head. HER FRIENDS DON’T tend to be actors but go back to her days at school, latterly Westminster. Several of her closest pals work as teachers in the state system. As we draw to a close, Bonham Carter looks down at my notes and reads out the name of her (younger) boyfriend Rye Dag Holmboe, a Norwegian writer, art historian and psychoanalyst. We’ve run out of time but she says she wouldn’t talk about him anyway because of his job. But what are we to make of the fact that both her mother and her partner are shrinks? Could she have been a psychoanalyst herself in another life? “I could still train,” she says. “It’s a possibility. I think I might actually have another life.”

[fagdykevash]

[ID: A compilation of tweets.

1. Tage Erlinger (@ TageErlinger): Haha, what a wicked and ironic comment bro. Now try saying someting true and beautiful

2. Coffee Lovers and Fans (@ tonyhawktruther): NASA just revealed a heaven-like planet where you can drink a beer at the lake. And they're calling it Earth

3. Theo Fanning (@ TheoFanning): After 50 years, Guitar Center finally makes the correct decision to stop using a guitar as a 'G' in their logo. Why it took that long is still anyone's guess. (Attached: the old and new Guitar Center logos) frog "kid Omelas" kosaric (@ yurirando) quote-tweeted: when they burned the library of Alexandria the crowd cheered in horrible joy. They understood that there was something older than wisdom, and it was fire, and something truer than words, and it was ashes

4. miss en abyme (@ saturnalreturn): Standing in front of the sun and doing shadow puppet shows on the moon

5. Linux (@ linux): When I kill God I will find the spigot from which he meters out grace and smash it permanently open

6. tania (@ boywaif): I had a french professor who once said if you just did something like going to the supermarket and experienced it fully without the goggles of habit and catégories you would go crazy with pure sense and joy. I think about it all the time. In a way this is all for him.

7. sand ghost (@ moutheaters): Me: Is the natural state of the soul quiet or chaos? Taco Bell cashier: Look buddy, it's transient, shifting like water

8. lil stinker (@ superlameballs): guys will make something called "the ultimate treat" and it's just a meatball sub it's just a meatball sub made on sub toasted garlic bread with cheese. homemade sauce, and all the love in their heart- their heart so filled to bursting with love you can taste it in the sandwich.

9. kat, your DM (@ kazzbotz): Whenever you're obsessed with stopping a prophecy you gotta ask yourself: am I enacting the prophecy's will? Is my obsession the mechanism by which the prophecy comes to pass?

10. Matthew (@ CrowsFault): People speak of hope as if it is this delicate, ephemeral thing made of whispers and spider's webs. It's not. Hope has dirt on her face, blood on her knuckles, the grit of the cobblestones in her hair, and just spat out a tooth as she rises for another go.

11. SOUL fembot (@_fembot): Its always "why did you not sleep" or "how many coffys did you have" and never "was the night dark and endless and full of promise"

12. [A thread:] John (@logicalpathos): This dog looks like my dog from my teenage years, Daisy. God I miss Daisy. aro (@ Arolexion): I miss daisy too dais (@ daisdNDconfused): It's okay… I was reincarnated into a real girl John (@ logicalpathos): Do you remember how we used to run

13. jims (@bubberdunkus): i'd tickle a fish if the wet chime of its laughter could heal us

14. lilies abounded (@petfurniture): i hope death is like being carried to your bedroom when you were a child & fell asleep on the couch during a family party. i hope you can hear the laughter from the next room

15. Linux (@ linux): We cracked open the skulls of our masters and found nothing but flesh and blood

16. [A thread:] azhar (@ emokendallroy) is there anyone even named sheldon irl? creature from the black leagoon (@ bigfatmoosepssy): my class turtle from 6th Grade :) erin m. brady (@ erinmartina): that's a turtle creature from the black leagoon (@ bigfatmoosepssy): When God sings with his creations, will a turtle not be part of the choir

17. sio (@ bestinsio): subway rat made eye contact with me and said "join us. when the train comes we slide under the tracks and feel it rumble over us like a warm thunderstorm. we live forever and we love to live" I said no thank you I am too large he turned away from me I cried

18. Not a wolf @sickofwolves: (in all caps) I hope this e-mail does not find you I hope your chair has grown over with moss I hope a pleasant but unobserved beam of light hits your desk perfectly through the collapsed ceiling I hope the silence is deafening.

End ID]

an incomplete collection of tweets i consider to be short poems