#This setting is in stark contrast to the actual tone of the game

[cursed-crow]

Dating sim screenshots I collaborated with @banana-anabun on for Titan's Hand, the Neon Fantasy Horror D&D game we play together. (She made all of the background art and UI elements, I made the character portraits and item icons.)

[aemondsbabe]

Oathkeeper

summary: aemond comes to winterfell to vie for favor and while cregan has his mind set on backing rhaenyra, you remain unswayed. will your indecision be his saving grace?

pairing: aemond targaryen x stark!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, brat taming, aemond is a little shit, choking, mild degradation, oral sex (f receiving), very lyanna mormont coded reader, aemond whimpers, he's down bad tbh he loves it, angst, allusions to violence but no actual violence, please no one kill me for the end lmao, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 6.1k

a/n: happy 3k laura!! i'm so happy to be a part of this collab with you and so many of my other fantastically talented writer friends! check out the full milestone celebration here and the masterlist will be here!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

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Icy air whips around you as you stand atop one of the many high stone battlements of Winterfell, eyes scanning the horizon; the grey earth and sky seem to meld together as one as the sun sets lower and lower. 

“It is our duty to hear them out, sister,” Cregan rumbles beside you, brow furrowed. Ice glimmers in your periphery when you glance over at him, the great sword strapped over your brother’s shoulder contrasts sharply against the deep black of the furs draped over his body, “If they come to us for aid, we must negotiate.”

The air around your lips turns to mist as you scoff, jaw clenched. Today, of all days, you could do without your brother’s condescending tone. 

“Negotiate,” you echo, pulling the thick white fur of your cloak more snugly over your shoulders as the wind seems to pick up, “They come with hardly any notice, with two dragons, and you still believe this is a negotiation?”

“Sister –”

“To call it anything but extortion is a fool’s game, Cregan,” you keep your eyes straight ahead, focused only on the horizon, when he turns to glare at you, nostrils flared. 

“Need I remind you that we are sworn to House Targaryen? That we have been for –”

“Which House Targaryen?” You swiftly counter, cutting your gaze to his with a biting scowl of your own. The wind gusts again yet you pay it no mind, hardly noticing when a shadow passes overhead. 

An all encompassing roar seems to vibrate the very air around you and you whip your head up just in time to see a behemoth of a beast duck down below the clouds, followed swiftly by a smaller, though no less monstrous, one that lets out a resounding cry of its own. 

“Gods be good,” you sigh, already feeling weary of this whole endeavor; you roll your eyes when you look to Cregan, only to find him positively beaming, entranced. You, however, would not be so easily wooed – of that, you were determined. 

Glowering, you turn your face to the sky once more and watch as the creatures circle one another, huffing when it dawns on you that their movements strikingly resemble two riders racing on horseback, goading and taunting one another. 

Shaking your head, your chest heaves with a tired groan, Seven Hells.

“I shall see you in the Great Hall when you have finished fawning,” you sigh once more before turning, leaving your brother to stand like some open-mouthed whore, gawping at the sky.

“My Prince and… my Prince,” Cregan’s voice echoes throughout the great stone hall, accompanied by the steady crackle of the enormous fireplace at its back wall, “We bid you welcome to the North, I trust your journey’s were pleasant ones.” 

The tension in the air is nearly palpable as you stand beside your brother, carefully watching the two dragonriders.The one on the left, Prince Jacaerys, stares straight ahead at Cregan, as if he doesn’t trust himself to look anywhere else. His dark brows are set in a slight scowl and his gloved hand hasn’t once risen from the pommel of his sword since he dismounted his dragon, who you’ve been informed bears the name Vermax.

Your gaze, however, seems continually pulled to the right, determined to see through the cool mask of indifference Prince Aemond wears. Unlike Jacaerys, his singular lilac eye had been busy flicking all about the space, though he stood stock still with a haughty manner about him, hands clasped behind his back. 

“‘Twas a fine journey, yes,” Aemond hums, looking first at Cregan and then to you; his gaze is piercing and you can’t help but wonder if the rumors among the smallfolk are true – that he’d replaced his lost eye with some sort of gemstone, “Vhagar and I were fortunate to not encounter… anything of note.”

Your eyes move quickly to Jacaerys, breaking from Aemond’s stare once you catch the pointed tone of his words, slicing through the air like daggers. His jaw clenches, though only for a second, as you silently pray that this does not end in the two men coming to blows, or worse. 

“My journey was quite pleasant, my Lord Stark, thank you,” a small part of you is impressed that he seems determined not to let his emotions run amuck. He steps forward and pulls a rolled piece of parchment from the inner pocket of the thick, fur-lined cloak he wears, “I come with a message from my mother, the Queen.”

Beside him, Aemond quickly steps forward as well, producing a similar scroll, close enough to you that you’re able to just make out an image of House Targaryen’s three-headed dragon embossed on the golden wax seal. “And I come bearing a message from King Aegon, Second of His Name,” he pauses, looking between you and Cregan, glancing almost imperceptibly toward Prince Jacaerys, “Who currently sits the Iron Throne.”

“Usurper,” Jacaerys mutters under his breath, nose twitching in annoyance.

“Say that again,” Aemond’s voice is low as he whips around to face Jacaerys, all but shoving the scroll he brought into your hands. 

“That is my mother’s throne,” the brunette replies, simmering with a barely contained rage as he hands over Rhaenyra’s terms to Cregan in a similar manner, “Your drunken fool of a brother has no right to it.”

Your heart thrums in your chest as they stare one another down, the hostility between them seems to suck all the air from the room and bathe it in a silence you’ve only ever felt in the crypts. 

“And who would bend the knee for a whore with bastard heirs, nephew?” Aemond’s footfalls echo about the hall as he stalks around the other prince, circling him with a goading smirk, “She could not honor the oaths made to her husband, I shudder to think what would become of her promises to the realm.”

Your eyes widen and a gasp is wrenched from your throat when Jacaerys whirls around with a snarl and the sound of metal-on-metal grates through the air as both men unsheath decorated daggers from their belts; they stumble a few steps back, chests heaving as they each wait for the other to make the first move. 

“Do it,” Aemond taunts, lips twisted into a wicked smile while he and Jacaerys circle one another. Raising a hand, he pulls the black leather eyepatch from his face and tosses it to the floor, clearly relishing the way the other prince falters at the sight of his uncovered face. The deep blue sapphire he reveals gleams in the light from the fire, the sight of it makes your breath hitch, “Finish what your bastard brother started, go on.”

“Cease this!” Cregan shouts, voice firm, though he may as well not have spoken at all for all the good it does – each man only sparing him a glance. 

“I did not come to fight you,” the brunette huffs, scowling at his uncle while keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his dagger.

“No?” Aemond questions sardonically, “You’ve no wish to prove your might, hm? To show the realm how strong you are?”

The remark sounds like any other taunt to you, yet something about it seems to make the fire simmering within Jacaerys blaze closer to the surface – too close. You can see it coming before it happens from the way he tenses, from the miniscule twitch of his hand.

Acting quickly, you lunge for the great longsword strapped to your brother’s back and unsheath it without a second thought. Cregan reacts just as swiftly and clambers for you when you turn on your heel and rush over to where the two men glower at one another. From the corner of your eye, you see Jacaerys lunge forward but you cut off his movement as you swing Ice over your head. 

Metal crashes against metal, filling the hall with a shrill clang, before the great sword slams against the stone floor with a cacophonous din. Everything comes to a sudden halt as the loud noise sends a shock through the hall. 

“Enough!” The word leaves your lips as a snarl while you stare between the two men, nose twitching in annoyance, “How dare you sully our home with such feckless, asinine bickering!” 

Each of the princes sheaths his dagger in silence, though you hold the sword between them still, the tip of it digging into the stone as you keep hold of the pommel. “I’ve no doubt that were those creatures outside to engage like this that they could easily rip Winterfell to pieces, stone by stone, and yet they remain peaceful! Tell me, do you have baser morals than that of a beast?” Your voice is low as you speak, every ounce of patience you had for this idiotic farce wrung from you, “Is this the kind of man House Targaryen sets upon the realm?” 

“Apologies, my lady… my lord,” Jacaerys murmurs, glancing between you and Cregan before quickly staring down at the floor, his jaw set. 

You give him a curt nod before training your eyes on the silver-haired prince and narrowing them expectantly; he holds your gaze for only a second before looking off into the fire with a sigh, “Apologies.” 

Cregan reaches for the sword again and this time you relinquish it without a fight, turning your attention back to the two scrolls abandoned on the longtable – one carrying a gold seal, the other a black one, both bearing the three-headed dragon emblem.

Your brother sighs behind you and you can practically feel him throwing an icy glance at the two men before he joins you at the table, leaning back against the edge of it and crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

“We will hear your terms,” he starts, ignoring the way your head whips around to face him, “As is our sworn duty, but there will be no violence in these halls.”

“No.”

“Sister –”

“Not tonight,” you shake your head firmly, glancing over your shoulder at the princes before leaning closer to Cregan, voice low enough that it doesn’t carry in through the hall, “‘Tis late and they are on edge as is. Any negotiations will not go peacefully tonight.”

He turns his head toward you with a soft sigh; you tilt your head just slightly when your eyes meet, communicating silently, with only a look, as you have since the two of you were small. 

“Please,” you think, your gaze flicking between his blue eyes, lips set in a firm line, “Listen to me, just this once.”

Finally, after a long moment, he simply nods and looks back at the two men still standing in the hall, looking pointedly away from each other now. 

“We will hear your terms in the morning,” you announce, turning to face them, your expression set and neutral, “The hour is late and I imagine the two of you are tired from your travels, the –”

“Lady Stark,” Aemond starts, stepping forward, jaw clenched with barely contained annoyance, “W–”

“We will hear your terms in the morning and that is final, my prince,” you repeat, enunciating each word firmly, leaving no room for whatever argument he was intending to make. You glance between the two men again, watching as he gives a polite, stiff nod. 

Sighing tiredly, you give Cregan one last withering look before turning on your heel. “The servants will show you to your quarters,” you call over your shoulder, grabbing the gold sealed scroll from the longtable on your way to the doors without sparing the men another look. 

By the grace of the Gods, you manage to have a few peaceful hours to yourself. The castle remains quiet, save for the usual bustling of various servants and guards. The crackling of the small hearth in your chambers is the only sound that accompanies you while you read over the terms Prince Aemond brought with him, which were fairly generous, all things considered. 

Only one point gave you pause, perhaps King Aegon’s greatest gift – the offer of his brother’s hand. You wrinkle your nose in disgust when you read over that bit, although you had expected it. It’s no secret that you, Winterfell’s greatest prize as you’d been told time and time again since you were old enough to even somewhat comprehend the idea of marriage, are unclaimed. Of course the Greens would exploit that, the Blacks probably did as well.

Of course any other weaker Lady would take the offer. 

Unconsciously, you clench your jaw as you gaze into the fire, watching the flames dance while you think over the terms set before you, etched cleanly on the parchment. You get up from your place at the desk to go see if Cregan has finished reading over Rhaenyra’s terms, quite curious to see what it is she’s offering up. 

“Gods!” You exclaim when a sudden knock at your chamber door cuts through the peaceful silence of the night, startles you enough that you grab at the edge of your desk to keep the bottle of ink there from spilling. Corking it, you let out an annoyed little grumble as you stand.

“Enter!” You call out, smoothing out the silken, fur lined fabric of your evening robes, the soft blue color sparkling like seafoam in the light from the fire. Your brows pinch together in equal parts annoyance and intrigue as a certain white-haired prince saunters through the door, his lips set together in a firm line, as if deep in thought. 

“Prince Aemond,” you huff, bristling when he closes the door behind him, “The hour is quite late, surely whatever you’ve come for can wait until the morning.”

He pauses at that, not moving from his place in the entryway. Confusion wells up within you when he doesn’t meet your gaze, his lilac eye blinking as his lips open just slightly – something clearly weighs quite heavily on his mind. 

“I apologize for the late hour, my Lady,” he murmurs, finally looking up as he takes a few steps into your chambers, arms clasped behind his back, “But I do not think the matter can wait until morning, no. I don’t believe that would be wise.”

“Speak, then,” you nod with a sigh, resting against the arm of a small sofa by the fire. You try your best to hide your annoyance, feeling certain that whatever the Prince had come to you with is not nearly as serious as he seems to believe.

Aemond remains quiet for a few seconds more and you can practically see the wheels turning in his brain, something brewing just below the surface. “I… Did you intend to make a fool of me, Lady Stark?”

“What?”

“I’m aware that my coming, and that of my nephew, were… sudden,” he continues, leaving you utterly perplexed, which only makes you clench your jaw, already exasperated at this entire exchange, “But, had you and Lord Cregan made it clear that you had already come to an agreement, I could’ve left — been on my way to the Stormlands and saved us all the trouble.” 

“Seven Hells, why must he speak in riddles,” you think, squeezing your eyes shut and pinching your brow tiredly. 

“Prince Aemond, perhaps I could be of some help if you spoke your concerns more plainly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and peering at him once more, “However, I can assure you that Cregan and I have decided nothing. He and I have planned to take the evening to read over yours and Prince Jacaerys’s terms, which we will discuss in the morning.” 

“Mm, then am I to believe that your lord brother plots without your knowledge, my Lady? I find that hard to believe.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Aemond paces, smirking as he traipses back and forth before you, acting like he can see clearly through some false plot you’ve set… if only you’d set one at all. 

“I overheard them, Cregan and Jace, in the library — I cannot seem to find sleep and thus was wandering the halls,” he murmurs, quickly explaining his actions before you have time to ask, “Surely you’re aware that your brother intends to support my traitorous sister.” 

His words should come as a shock, that Cregan would do something like this behind your back, and yet you can’t find it within yourself to be truly surprised. Ever since he’d become Warden of the North, he’d become… hardened, even to you. Before, he would’ve never dared do this, would’ve considered your thoughts as carefully as his own, but not anymore. 

“My brother may be decided,” you start, voice clipped, “But I have yet to come to a decision.” 

The prince hums yet again, something he seems to do often much to your great displeasure. He studies you for a moment, lilac eye never wavering from yours, before looking away with a tsk. “And yet, from what I overheard, he seems quite convinced that you have.” 

You scoff at that and push yourself off the arm of the sofa, placing your hands on your hips as you blink at him for a moment while the corners of your lips twitch with the threat of a smirk, “I must confess, my Prince, but I do not know how to proceed. We seem to be at an impasse – I assure you of one thing and yet you cling to your belief in another.”

“So it would seem.”

His calm reply does nothing to lessen your irritation and your chest heaves with a sigh, jaw clenching. “Well, then,” you huff, no longer patient enough to keep the frustration out of your tone, “What would you have me do, hm?”

“Perhaps,” your eyes narrow at the indifference with which he speaks – an act, you’re sure of it, “It would bring me some comfort if we could come to some… agreement of our own. As your brother and my nephew seem so eager to do.”

“As I’ve said, I do not wish to discuss the matter further. ‘Tis late, my Prince, and I see no point in staying up half the night to do something that can be accomplished just as well tomorrow.”

“Mm,” he hums, pacing around you and further into your chambers, to your great annoyance. You turn, watching him as he saunters through the space, acting as if it’s his own, only to come to a stop beside your desk. 

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips just as he feigns surprise at seeing the scroll he’d brought with him unfurled over the wooden surface, “But, you have read the king’s terms, no? Surely discussing them would not take long.”

“Discussing them, no,” you acquiesce, gritting your teeth, “My thoughts of accepting them, on the other hand…”

You can tell he’s only half-listening as you speak, focused on reading over the notes you’d scrawled in the margins of the document – questions of various assurances and the like… aside from one particular line which you’d hastily crossed through. A shiver goes down your spine when his eye trails up from the parchment to once again meet yours, darkened with some new sense of resolve.

“You are aware that the crown has the ability to strip you and Lord Cregan of your titles, yes? Especially if I were to inform my council of your plot against me…”

Your heart quickens at his warning, thumping meanly in your chest while you try to process his words. “All this over a simple marriage offer?” You think as your brows pinch together in a scowl; you do not take kindly to such threats.

“Over my brother’s right to the throne…,” Aemond murmurs and it’s only then you realize you must’ve spoken aloud, not hearing your own words due to the turmoil in your head, the rush of blood in your ears, “Over my family’s safety, yes. I would be willing to dole out harsher reminders as well, if need be.” 

“You must understand, this is not a slight against you, nor your council,” fire rages within you as the winds outside pick up, howling throughout the castle, “I have no want to be bound to anyone –”

“Think of the station you’d have,” he cuts you off, determination seeming to well up within him the same way it does you; each of you is ready for a fight, “The power you could wield in King’s Landing, everything you could do to benefit –”

“You could not drag me from the North kicking and screaming, I have no desire to go –”

“My Lady, you are intelligent, ‘tis plain to see,” he murmurs lowly, indignation finally managing to bleed through his placid exterior while he paces about, circling you just as he did Prince Jacaerys, “Surely you realize that your talents will be wasted here, squandered to the cold, frozen waste –”

“Do you think insulting my home is the way to win me over, my Prince?”

“Mm,” his dismissive hum alights a spark within you and your hands curl to fists at your side, “No, though I suspect flattery would do no good either.”

His words are sharp, spoken with the sole purpose of cutting into you, yet all they draw is an angry huff. You can see his eye narrow in your periphery, can feel him studying you, no doubt trying to find a way to make you crack. 

A part of you hopes he’ll succeed. 

“So, you see, I’ve no other choice than to resort to threats,” he hums, long silken hair swaying over his shoulders as he finally comes to a stop before you, close enough that you’re forced to raise your chin to maintain eye contact. 

“Should you be fool enough to try, you will not succeed in taking the North, my Prince,” you say softly, a quiet calm blanketing your fury just as snow blankets the fields outside, “Even Aegon the Conqueror could not, surely you know that.” 

Something dangerous flashes in his eye at that and your eyes narrow with the knowledge that you’ve crossed some invisible boundary, gone a step too far. 

He stays quiet for a moment, just long enough for the eye of the storm within you to pass, for the maelstrom to be ignited once more. 

“Surely you’ve heard tale of the wrath the Conqueror brought upon Harrenhal, Lady Stark,” his voice is low when he finally speaks, though there is no softness to it; only a harshness, a finality, that would surely make anyone else grovel for forgiveness at his feet, “Reduced to a pile of ash and molten stone… even now, more than a century later, it stands as a ruin – a cursed place…”

Your jaw clenches tightly at his words, eyes narrowing as you stare into his own as if challenging him to say it, to finish his threat.

“It would be quite a shame if that same doom was brought to Winterf–”

Aemond lets out a grunt when his back thuds against the stone wall behind him, gasping and caught off guard by your sudden advance. 

“Have you no shame?” Your words are biting as you snap at him; fury pours off of you in waves, your entire being concentrated down into rows of gnashing teeth, “You come into my home, unbidden. You threaten to spill blood in my hall, you feel entitled to my time and my space and my thoughts and my hand, all unbidden.”

For the first time all evening, the prince seems to have no response, not even a condescending hum. He stands frozen on the spot, held against the wall by your forearm pinned across his chest. The air feels like it evaporates from the room, leaving the two of you in some sort of bubble where the only sound is Aemond’s harsh pants. You see his angular nose twitch and his lips press firmly together as a sneer forms on his pale face. 

There’s a cruel, almost savage, gleam in his eye that should scare you, that maybe actually would, were it not for the soft pink flush spilling across his cheeks and an undercurrent of something resembling shame in his gaze – the expression of a child being scolded by a parent, caught doing something they shouldn’t. 

The strangeness of it brings you to heel for a second, only for the anger within you to flare up once more when he starts to open his mouth, starts to push himself off of the cool stone at his back. 

“Don’t,” you huff, narrowing your eyes and pressing back against his chest. A bitter laugh bubbles up from your throat as you stare at him, surprised once more when he quickly gives in and lets you push him back, “I bet you’re quite used to getting your way, hm? You’re a prince of the realm, of course you are.”

With each passing second, your ire for him seems to be slowly replaced by a growing curiosity — Why isn’t he fighting back? What kind of game is he playing at? 

“Entitled prince,” your heart quickens when his breaths start coming more harshly and his chest heaves against beneath your arm, “You hold no power here.” 

Aemond’s nostrils flare and his lilac eye narrows, just as fiery and intimidating as before. Your lips part when his hands come to rest on your waist, far too delicately for the situation. 

“Might I remind you,” he mutters, a rumble to his voice that hadn’t been there before, “That the crown—“

“The crown, the crown, the crown,” you lean in, nearly on your tiptoes, just a hair’s breadth away from touching your nose to his. Without considering the movement, your free hand wraps itself around his pale neck, not squeezing but merely resting there, pressing against his Adam’s apple — a reminder for him to remain silent, “Why is it that you lean so heavily on something you do not even have, my Prince?” 

You can feel him swallow against the palm of your hand, once again not fighting back. Though, it’s only when you meet his half-lidded eye and see that heady, shameful spark hiding there does the truth finally hit you. 

“Gods, he likes this,” your eyes widen ever so slightly at the realization, such a mighty, fearsome prince and yet he’s all but melting under your touch. The feeling is rather intoxicating and you feel a rush of power flow through you, making the hair at the nape of your neck stand on end. 

“I don’t see a crown on your pretty head,” you continue leaning into the feeling, intending on leveraging his submission to whatever extent you can, “Doesn’t that bother you, Aemond? Hm? Being reduced to the second son when you could’ve been so much more…”

“V-Vhagar could—“

“Vhagar could do nothing,” your fist tightens around the column of his throat as you press yourself more tightly against him, the thin fabric of your evening robe the only thing separating you from the warm black leather of his tunic, “Not if I take my brother’s sword and go slit her great belly myself.” 

He balks at that, brows furrowing as he stares at you — half in fury, half in wonder. He opens his mouth to say something but you cut him off again, not interested in hearing another half-baked threat. 

“Does it bother you that I don’t find you the least bit intimidating?” You question, narrowing your eyes at him. 

A grin blooms on your lips when he just barely shakes his head, the movement so subtle and so quick that you hardly catch it — though it sends lightning down your spine all the same.

“No? It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Again, he shakes his head, more firmly this time; his throat bobs beneath your grip, “Do you like it? That you can’t scare me?” 

He nods — not good enough. 

“Say it,” you command, tightening your grip on his neck once more. 

“I… I like it…,” he answers after a long moment, his voice hardly a whisper.

“Good boy.” 

He whimpers, the small sound vibrates against your hand. A shock goes through you and before you can fully register what you’re doing, you release his chest and neck and haul him toward your bed — that barely there whine enough to ignite a fire in your belly. 

You can see the confusion written plainly on his face when you sit on the edge of your mattress and gaze up at him expectantly, you try not to focus on the little flip your heart does at the fact that he’d followed you so willingly, like a little puppy. 

“Kneel,” you command, nearly giddy when he actually does, actually sinks to his knees before you. You lean forward and quickly tug off his eyepatch, eager to see the sapphire once more, and again, you’re shocked when he doesn’t put up a fight. 

Tossing the small scrap of leather to the side, you stop for a moment and admire the glimmering gemstone, even admiring the long, thin scar that adorns his otherwise flawless face. 

“You’ve been a thorn in my side all evening,” your fingers card through his hair while you speak, your voice low, hardly louder than the crackle of the logs in the fire, “Starting fights, coming to my chambers in the middle of the night for matters I said I would not be discussing, talking back… and I can think of much better uses for this mouth.”

Aemond’s breath hitches when you cup his jaw and skim a thumb over his bottom lip, grinning when he just barely follows your touch. With your free hand, you tug your robe open at the slit going up your leg, just enough to show him you’re bare beneath it.

“If… if I do this, you’ll back Aegon?” He rasps, staring up at you from his place on the floor as his hands come to rest gingerly on your thighs, “You’ll agree to his terms?”

“Of course…”

“… All of his terms?”

“All of them,” you echo breathily, sighing softly when he leans in and kisses the top of one knee, a smug grin on his lips despite the situation. 

If only he didn’t make this so easy. 

“Enough talking,” you grab at his pale hair and shamelessly pull him to where you need him, smirking at the little gasp that leaves his lips once he’s face to face with your center, “Show me what it is I’ve agreed to.”

For all his faults, Aemond doesn’t make you wait and quickly dives in — licking a solid line up the middle of your folds, groaning as he goes. His hands tighten around your thighs and he eagerly spreads them wider, shifting on the floor until he’s pressed closer to you. 

“Oh, f-fuck!” You gasp, leaning back on an elbow, though you keep a grip on his hair and use it to drag him directly to your aching pearl, arching your back when he hungrily suckles at it. His eagerness makes the fire in your belly burn bright right away and you swallow thickly, battling against the dryness at the back of your throat. 

Aemond growls against you and dutifully licks over your bud, flicks his tongue against it again and again until your head spins. Your thighs tighten around his head but he’s quick to press against them once more and hold you open, fingers digging into your supple flesh. 

“Good boy,” you pant, relishing the way his eye rolls back. Biting at your bottom lip, you yank his hair once more — guiding him to your entrance. He catches on quickly and another almighty gasp is wrenched from your throat when he pushes his tongue inside you, making you shiver. 

“Seven Hells!” Your hips buck against his face of their own accord when his angular nose brushes against your pearl, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. Your walls clench down around his tongue, pulling twin whines from the both of you. 

Knowing you won’t be able to hang on for much longer, you press his face against your core and rock your hips more earnestly against his face; your eyes nearly go cross when he groans deeply against you, squeezing at your thighs hard enough to surely leave behind bruises. 

“T-That’s it, that’s it,” you chant, chest heaving. It feels as if lava flows through your veins each time he presses his tongue against you, the fire inside you burning brighter by the moment. 

Suddenly, he moves on his own accord and nips softly at your pearl before suckling at it once more. The sudden turn of events causes you to snap and finally slip over the edge, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids. 

“A-Aemond, Gods!” You cry, harshly tugging at his hair, nearly ripping it from its roots as pleasure beats against you in waves. You’re so lost within yourself that you hardly hear him growl against you, low and heady. 

You shove him away after a moment when his touches begin to border on overstimulation and lie panting on the bed, dropping to your back against the warm blankets and staring, half-lidded, at the ceiling. 

You can hear the shuffle of his clothes as he pushes himself up off the floor but you don’t bother sitting up, limp still from your peak. It’s not until he speaks that you finally look up. 

“I take it I’ve fully persuaded you, then?” He hums, sounding entirely too pleased with himself. Leaning up on your elbows once more, you look him over — taking in the flush on his cheeks, the way his chest thrums under the dark leather of his tunic, the evidence of his arousal pressing tightly against the ties of his trousers. 

Gods, what a desperate thing — wanting so badly for validation.

“Well, I’ll still need to read over Rhaenyra’s terms…”

“But —“

“But nothing,” you snap, sitting up once more on the edge of the bed, “I must at least operate under the pretense of being fair, no? Cregan will know if I don’t come to collect the papers your nephew brought.” 

Aemond nods stiffly, lips set in a thin line as he looks you over. Your heart speeds up just slightly when his lilac eye pauses at your chest, darkening at the way your robe has loosened, showcasing your cleavage. 

“True,” he acquiesces, brushing a lock of hair from your shoulder, “It would be smartest for us to be careful now…” 

He leans down, intending to kiss your cheek, perhaps even your lips or neck, but you put a hand up to stop him — shaking your head with a small smirk and a raised brow. 

“That’ll be all.” 

His brows furrow at your words, eye searching your face, “I thought —“

“I need to rest,” you cut him off, nodding to the door, “Goodnight, my Prince. I hope sleep finally finds you.” 

“I…” he starts, staring at you for a second, absolutely crestfallen, before simply nodding. “Lady Stark,” he mumbles, finally turning and seeing himself out, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Poor thing,” you think with a sigh as soon as your door shuts behind him, “He has no business here.” 

You’re hit with a wave of deja vu as you take your place next to Cregan, each of you standing before the long table at the head of the Great Hall. Once again, the place is as silent as a crypt, the only sound being the steady crackle of the fireplace. 

You stare straight ahead, focusing intently on the opposite wall while your brother addresses the two princes — exchanging morning pleasantries and worried smiles. Throughout his small speech, you can practically feel Aemond’s gaze on you, like he’s determined to sear a hole straight through you. 

“I have read your terms carefully, both of them,” Cregan states, each of the scrolls laid out on the table behind you, “And I propose that House Stark honor will keep faith with its alliance to Lady Rhaenys, in memory of the oath we once swore to King Viserys.” 

“Very well,” Prince Jacaerys nods, giving your brother a small, polite smile and grateful nod. 

“And what say you, my Lady?” Aemond cuts in, determined to force your hand, for you to make good on your assurances from last night. 

The desperation in his eye almost makes you feel bad.

With a sigh, you finally look up at him for the first time all morning, immediately noting the dark circles beneath his eye. Breaking from his intense, nearly pleading gaze, you look toward Prince Jacaerys with a small smile.

“I’m afraid I must agree with my dear brother,” your voice is cold, emotionless as it rings throughout the stony room, “House Stark will not be breaking its oath today.” 

Aemond lets out a sharp, stuttering breath, as if he’d been punched in the gut and his shoulders sag in defeat. 

And you almost feel bad, only for a moment. 

Almost.

thank you for taking the time to read! hope you enjoyed! :)

consider adding yourself to my tag list or check out my works on ao3!

[oneforthemunny]

A nsfw game, so fun!! My roll is 4,F,$ (for you to write) 😌 😈

ahh the first one!!! for you, your roll is: mafia!eddie, standing up, paddle.

minors dni. dom/sub themes, spanking, daddy kink.

"Keep your hands on your head," Eddie's voice was firm, commanding with little to no room for argument, a stark contrast to his usual cooing soft tone he used with you.

"You move those hands and I start over, do you hear me?" You squirmed at the authority in his voice, tensing your arms that were already beginning to tire. You could hear Eddie behind you, rummaging through his 'play' closet, where he kept all your favorite toys- and some of your least favorite ones too.

"Hey," Eddie barked, you stiffened, spine straightening. You turned, just barely, hands still planted firmly on your head, looking at him over your elbow.

Eddie lifted a brow. "I said, do you hear me?"

Your heart jumped at the growl, heat spilling to your core, shifting from foot to foot, thighs squeezing, desperate to dull the throbbing between your legs. "Yes," You squeaked.

Eddie lifted a brow, a ringed hand wrapped around the leather paddle. You nearly whined at the sight of it. "What's gotten into you?" Eddie's tone dropped, eyes scanning your features carefully. "Why're you actin' bad?"

You knew he was looking for a sign, anything telling in your expression that he had miscalculated. That you were actually mad at him or upset, that you didn't want to play. He didn't find that, of course, because you did want to play. He was doing exactly what you wanted him to. He had since the luncheon with Rick, when you'd boldly tried to slip your hand into his pants over and over until he grabbed your hand, growling a warning in your ear that left you throbbing.

"I'm not acting bad," You huffed, giving him an eye roll that sealed the deal- you were wanting to play, desperate for it. "I just wanted to show you some love, Eddie."

"Yeah? And you know better than to do it like that." Eddie grit his teeth, twisting the paddle in his hands. "And you know better than to address me like that. You don't call me that in here."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a moan. Your knees wobbled, thighs pressing tighter and tighter. Eddie lifted a brow, nostrils flaring at your defiance.

He took a step back, a ringed hand holding your left wrist to keep you in place. You attempted to squirm, before you even had the chance, the paddle was swinging back, falling on your bare ass with a snapping fury.

You squealed, hands lifting off your head in surprise, reactively going to cover your backside, but Eddie caught them before you could. His large hand held yours wrists in place, bringing the paddle down again.

"What. Do. You. Call. Me?" He sneered, alternating between cheeks, punctuating each word with a solid spank of the leather paddle.

Your skin was already beginning to throb, itchy with uncomfortable searing pain that seemed to only go straight to your aching core. "Daddy!" You cried out, teeth clenching to try and keep your tears from falling. "I'm sorry, Daddy!"

"Hmm," Eddie exhaled slowly, grip loosening on your wrists. "That's what I thought." His hand ghosted over your hot flesh, squeezing your right cheek just to hear you whine.

"Get those hands back in place and keep them up there." Eddie commanded, stepping back with the paddle. "Move 'em again, and I'm serious, Kitten, I'll start over."

Your body trembled, goosebumps blossoming down your spine, threading your fingers together and placing them at the top of your head. Eddie tapped the paddle on your ass, a warning, before he landed a solid swat in the center.

He kept his rhythm up, building and alternating from one cheek to the other, while you danced from foot to foot. The fat of your ass jiggling with every jump, making his own mouth fill with spit.

"Now," Eddie set the paddle down on the large mahogany desk, slowly stepping over to you. Your body shook with soft sobs, sniffling wetly with your hands still on your head.

"You learned your lesson?" Eddie's hand rubbed over your ignited skin, a soothing rub of his calloused palms.

"Y-Yes, Daddy." You hiccuped, eyes shining when they met his. He had to swallow down his urge to push you up against the wall right there and fuck you.

"I think you have too." Eddie muttered, nose rubbing over your wet cheek. His hand slid from your ass to your waist, pulling you close to him so your back was flush with his chest.

"Are you ready to be good?" Eddie rasped, his breath hot on your skin. You shivered, his lips leaving wet smooches on your raised arms. "Ready to make it up to Daddy?"

You nodded, a whimper strangled in your throat. "Yes, Daddy." You sniffled, wet lashes batting towards him. "I'll be good."

Eddie smiled, teeth grazing over your ear playfully before he spun you around. He guided your hands off your head, squeezing your upper arms affectionately. "Good," His nose was nearly brushing yours, curly bangs tickling your forehead.

His hands went to his pants between the two of you, undoing them and shoving them to the ground. You looked, tongue running over your bottom lip at the sight of his cock, already leaking for you.

Eddie's hand caught your chin, lifting your eyes back to his gently. He held your gaze for a moment, scanning over your features before his lips twitched in a wicked grin. "Why don't you show me how sorry you are, hm?"

Your knees tightened, nodding enthusiastically, kneeling on the carpet before him, pumping his length. Eddie watched, your eyes never leaving his as you waited for his nod. When he gave it to you, your tongue licked a stripe over his leaking tip. Eddie groaned, head tipping back as you swallowed him, letting you show him how sorry you were.

[galedekarios]

gale's early access dialogue transcripts - part 1: the three tadpole dreams

in early access, the dreams would only happen, if you used your tadpole powers, be that via the conversation options or the skills in your skill bar. much like the guardian now, you could customise your dream visitor. however, before you did so, the game posed a different question to you:

who do you dream of at night?

the question set the tone for the dreams: the dream figure's role wasn't so much protection as it was seduction. seduction to welcome this newfound power and to use it.

for context, i'd advise you to watch the three tadpole dreams that the protag would have in early access here.

it allows you to get a feeling for what the companions may have seen as origins at that time weren't yet implemented. as far as i know only ast*rion's first dream has been partially datamined.

each companion used to have a specific dream figure that was related to their unique backgrounds - a stark contrast with how it is now, a random figure with no true connection to them, which i think makes very little sense.

gale's dream figure took the form of mystra in early access.

i have compiled the three possible conversations you were able to have with him, following those dreams:

first dream - the first dream would usually happen after you sought your first cure (ie nettie the healer)

Gale: Good morning! And it truly is, isn't it? A very, very good morning. Do you feel as chipper as I do? The night brings council, or so the saying goes, but last night had quite a bit more in store, wouldn't you agree? How's that for feeling better? Tav (Option 1): I see I'm not the only one who woke with new-felt powers? Gale: Hardly. Tav (Option 2): It's remarkable how much better I feel after feeling so sick earlier. Gale: Remarkable - or perhaps we should call it suspicious.  Tav (Option 3): Those are a lot of questions so early in the morning Gale: That's because there's so much to ask. Tav (Option 4): Why don't we skip to the part where we have some breakfast? Gale: Let's settle another appetite first. Gale: There is a glow about you, no doubt about me too. We feel... startling well. And yet there's a certain look in your eyes. The far off distance of a haunting. Which begs yet another question: did you too have such puzzling dreams? Tav (Option 1): Actually my dreams were quite delightful. Gale: Surely not the only adjective that springs to mind. Tav (Option 2): You nod in silence. Gale: Same here. Perhaps. The jury's still out.  Tav (Option 3): Mind your own business, Gale.  Gale: Not a morning person, I see. But those eyes of yours speak volumes. Gale: What I saw surpassed the vivid. The voice was too true, the touch too tantalising, I can tell you felt the same. Sought out in the night by... what? An illusion, or a promise? Tav (Option 1): I don't see the distinction. Gale: An illusion is only a lie, but a promise is a truth that may yet come to pass. Tav (Option 2): It felt more like being prey cornered by a predator. Gale: All too apt an analogy. Tav (Option 3): It was more than a promise: these powers are real.  Gale: You have me there. As for the lure of the touch, the kiss. Gale: Let's agree that at the very least there was the lure of a promise. The touch, the kiss, the everything... Did you relent or resist? Tav (Option 1): I relented. Gale: It felt impossible not to. I did as well.  Tav (Option 2): Lie and say you resisted. Gale: Then you're stronger than me. Tav (Option 3): Lie and say you remained silent. Gale: I could not. I relented. It felt impossible not to. Tav (Option 4): How about you telling me what you did? Gale: I relented. It felt impossible not to. Tav (Option 5): The kiss, you say. Now I know why you're so chipper. Gale: The dream wasn't just about power, it was about desire. Gale: It was an expert, this apparition. First the seduction, then the spurning, then that teasing souvenir. 'You are not ready, I will return when you are'. That's what I was promised. We have some restless nights ahead of us.  Gale: Perhaps it's time indeed. The power to bend wills is a mind flayer speciality. We're the ones who are truly at risk. Power is a treacherous thing. Sometimes it makes you betray yourself. (end)

second dream (would trigger after using tadpole powers)

Gale: Good morning. I'm sorry, but I'm not in the best of moods. I tire of these dreams. Dreams. The word implies desire, but we're being played for fools. These are nothing but delusions.  Tav (Option 1): What makes you so sure they're delusions? Gale: [Jump to These dreams...] Tav (Option 2): I recall you being a lot more enthusiast after our first collective dream. Gale: I never said I'm not among the fool.  Tav (Option 3): The power we're given is real, and there's no denying that.  Gale: It’s not because they’re real, that they don’t deceive. Give it candy and a child stops asking questions. Gale: These dreams are too good to be true, and I can tell you why. Because they promises are perfect, and in perfection lies their flaw. It's the tadpole reading our every desire, but they don't read between the lines. They don't know some things are impossible. They don't know that... They don't know.  Tav (Option 1): Gale, who is the apparition in your dreams? Gale: She's... It doesn't matter. I just know her to be unreal.  Tav (Option 2): What's impossible about what you're been shown? Gale: Forgiveness. Tav (Option 1): I'll leave you to your ruminations.  Gale:  Remember: these are nothing but delusions. Don't let the illithid's close readings persuade you of good intent.  Tav [if told about Mystra - Loss scene dependent]: So it's Mystra you see. Of course it is.  Gale: I... why, yes. Clearly the tadpole isn't the only one who can read me like a book.  It's indeed Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. I told you that I lost her. Lost her favour and lost so many of the powers I took for granted. What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence. Mystra has not changed her mind about me. That's how I know out dreams are delusions. Tav [Persuasion check, if not told about Mystra - Loss scene has not yet happened]: Come, you can tell me. We're among friends here.  Gale [Success]: Very well. It's Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. Things were different once, between the goddess and me. But things have changed. The parasite has plans for us. Gale: Suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favours promised in these dreams. That is how I know they are delusions. The parasite has plans for us, enacted through seduction and the promise of power. Don't be fooled. Behind the lips it wants us to kiss hide cold steel razor teeth. (end) Gale [Failure]: Another time maybe. I've said too much already. Remember, these are nothing but delusions. Don't let the illithid's close readings persuade you of good intent.  Tav (Option 3): If you say so. Now let's get going.  Gale: Very well. (end)

third dream (would trigger after using tadpole powers again)

first variation: the player used the tadpole power

Gale: The dawn broke with glorious streaks of red and fading blues – and I've never felt more tired. More dreams. More visions. Have you finally seen that nothing good can come from using the parasite's powers? Tav (Option 1): I'm sorry. I should have been more careful.   Gale: It's an all too easy mistake to make, but we have to fight the temptation. The parasite  will divide us if we let it... and conquer next. Let's not give the damned thing what it wants. [Gained Approval] (end) - Tav (Option 2): I will exercise my powers as I see fit. It's not your call to make.  Gale: Don't you see? The parasite will divide us if we let it – and conquer next. Clearly we can consider the division accomplished. [Gained Disapproval] (end)

second variation: the player had gale use the tadpole powers

Gale: More dreams. More visions. More the fool me for having used the powers of the parasite again.  Tav (Option 1): Don't be too hard on yourself. When you're given power, it's only natural to exercise it.  Tav (Option 2): Foolishness I did not expect from you. You're putting us all at risk.  Gale: I should have been more cautious. The parasite will divide us if we let it – and conquer next. To make use of its powers was a mistake I don't intend to repeat – that much I can promise. (end)

if you want to watch and listen to gale discussing these dreams with the protag, you can do so here. this youtube video has all three conversations compiled in one.

coming up next:

-part 2: major cut scenes: the deer stew scene & the loss scene

-part 3: minor cut scenes: abandoned temple of jergal, failed to save arabella, talking to the paladins of tyr and agreeing to go after karlach, edowin and the tadpole reveal, mayrina giving ethel's wand to her or breaking it, handing astarion over to the gur or defending him, reaching the druid grove, killing lae'zel, reaching the goblin camp & looking for halsin, killing the druids, priestess gut & the brand & the cult of the absolute, dror ragzlin and talking to the dead mind flayer, ogre couple, necromancy of thay, ethel, zhentarim chest, myconid colony

-part 4: gale's condition & the way it was treated in early access

taglist: @chainsawmascara, @randomfanner, @tacogoats, @khajiit-necromancer, @gwinharper, @galesenchantedpanties, @swampfaerie, @ardently-queer, @nirraein, @gale-enjoyer, @xiv-wolfram, @kairoswouldnever

i thought i'd tag the people i'd seen taking an interest in my original post! if you want to be taken off the taglist, please let me know!

[no-title-currently]

“In the Flood” has two variations- The opening sequence version, and the one that plays in the credits, known as Lovisa’s version. This post here is covering Lovisa’s version specifically. I won’t be covering all of the lyrics, just the ones I’m able to fully draw something from. While upon listening for the first time, they may seem similar, it’s worth mentioning that the tracks actually parallel each other. The opening sequence version seems to be more from Aloy’s perspective, focusing on how she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and how she has to handle everything herself. On the contrary, while there is quite a bit of discussion, I personally feel that Lovisa’s version is closer to Beta’s perspective, specifically her perspective close to the end of the game.

Unlike in the opening sequence version, Lovisa’s Version starts off calmer. We’re met right away with a slower riff, unlike the one used in the opening sequence version. This riff is more somber in nature, in part due to the fact that it’s in a lower octave, and it has less going on. We’re hit with the vocals pretty early, starting off at (0:07) with “My hands are full of flowers, my ears are full of songs..” This is already a stark contrast to the opening cutscene version, as despite the somber undertones of the instrumental, the lyrics almost seem hopeful near the start. They’re far more positive, both in tone and in association. Tone wise, the lyrics are gentle, they’re light. However, the association is what’s interesting- flowers and songs are both things with generally positive associations.

(0:46) has the start of the chorus. “I am raindrops in the flood. I am emptiness, I am hope…” What’s interesting is that instead of how the chorus of the opening cutscene version has tones of doubt and uncertainty, this version is far more direct. We’re still sticking with the raindrops in the flood analogy, but it’s more accepting than anything else.

What really caught my eye though, is the last part of the chorus “Stay with me, in the flood..” so much of this track is close to a direct parallel to the opening credits version, but this line I feel is the most obvious proof of that. For reference, the opening credits version has the line “Who can take my hand in the flood?” It feels like a call for help in a sense. Comparing the two lines creates a unique parallel, as “Stay with me, in the flood” feels less like a desperate call for help, and more like a request.

At (1:28) we have “in dreams, I never left. I had courage like the beast. My eyes, they never fled. My arms would always reach.” This is one of three sets of lines that really cement my theory that this is from Beta’s perspective. These feel more like aspirations above anything else. A desire to be stronger. “My voice is not that strong, when hurricanes come running from you” comes later in this part at (1:51). It’s a comparison, one that it would make sense that Beta would make. Of course, it’s metaphorical, but the point still stands. It’s just a matter of wanting to be stronger.

Before the last chorus, at (3:11), we’re hit with what I think is one of the saddest lyrics in the track. “Should I have bent, been reshaped in your image? Is that what you want?” It’s really leaning into the comparison aspect of the last paragraph, and it actually reminds me somewhat of the argument Aloy and Beta have before going to Cauldron: GEMINI, where Beta reveals that she needs to know what her ‘defect’ is, and why she can’t be like Aloy.

Overall, the lyrical tracks in this game are just stunning. While they may be harder to analyze fully, I feel the lyrics actually allow for them to be interpreted in a variety of different ways. I hope one day, I’ll truly be able to put my thoughts into words fully, as there is so much more I could say about this one, it’s just a matter of how to say it.

[gaygoetia]

Initial thoughts on the Fallout TV show:

- I really enjoyed the show overall. The pacing, story and tone is great and it was so fun seeing all the various background details and references to the games. They really outside themselves with the sets, costumes, props and overall art design. And the music!!! So fun recognising the songs from the games. And the twist was great!

- Lucy is a sweet cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure. I adore her. I also love that she's stuck to her morals even after everything she's been through.

- I really like Cooper (I'm a sucker for an anti-hero) and enjoy the big contrast between his pre-war and current personality. Also I love that he proves that ghouls can be hot.

- I had very mixed feelings about Max at the start of the show but I really like how he's grown and developed thanks to Lucy's influence. I also feel instinctively protective over him cos I just know the fandom is gonna be racist and shitty about him.

- On a related note, the shipping discourse with this show is gonna be a disaster. Can't wait to see takes such as "Cooper/Lucy is problematic because of the 200 year age gap" and "Max doesn't deserve Lucy because he lied to her, instead she should be with Cooper (despite him being a cannibal and serial murderer who literally tortured her and almost killed her multiple times), this makes perfect sense."

- To be clear, I actually like both Lucy/Cooper and Lucy/Max as ships! (though not as much as I like Lucy/Literally Any Woman), they're just prime material for stupid shipping wars and I'm exhausted just thinking about it.

- This show is really good but is in desperate need of more girls and gays (I need Lucy to have female companion/romance options lol) Barb, Moldaver, Steph and Betty were great but they were 1. All kinda-antagonists (who were only ever seen from other character's POV's) 2. Did not interact with each other. The gender imbalance is especially stark when you consider there are almost twice as many men in the main cast list as there are women.

[softgrungeprophet]

musing on movies in general, long post, do not read if you don't want my rambling opinions on cinnamontography or whatever

anyway

my kingdom for a spider-man noir movie (by which i mean Spider-Man Noir, the 1920s spider-man, but i also mean, a noir movie about spidey in general, even modern) in the vein of the Batman and other modern and neo-noir films instead of this ugly, poorly lit stuff the MCU keeps putting out

sony!! sony do you hear me?! (disney do not interact) i want black shadows and strong lighting used to lead the viewer's eye, purposefully obfuscate things, and only reveal what the movie wants the viewer to see when it wants the viewer to see it. i want to see two eye lenses and nothing else, looming in the darkness...

(tasm2 tie-in game actually did this really well, ironically; visually that game is not bad, but the menace system makes it almost unplayable for me 😔which is unfortunate cause it's clear how much more polished it is than the first game (which i enjoyed despite its tendency to crash)) (though i was disappointed they removed the auto-web button that lets you web-dodge up to a vantage point)

sony?????????

i am looking forward to the next ITSV movie, i just know that will look good as hell

this post as turned into a long ramble about cinnamontography and movies i've seen recently so if you care you can read it but otherwise XD probably not worth it

but imo birds of prey and the batman are probably the best looking live action superhero movies i've seen since 2014 (probably not a controversial statement XD) both have stellar cinematography and choreo.

batman is heavy on the blacks and stark contrasts and using the shadows to hide things until they want you to see them (thus my fave minor moment: batman materializing seemingly out of the darkness, as if he was born from it) and it really nails its aesthetic imo. i've seen some criticisms of its darkness but i feel like these are criticisms that stem from this idea that well, it's dark, therefore it's badly lit, instead of understanding the differences between bad lighting and purposeful darkness. like the difference between, you know, GoT or something and this is that in The Batman, the shadows aren't just bad lighting, they're used to frame the images, to hide certain elements until those elements need to be seen, and to establish mood and tone as what is essentially a noir movie with horror and and superhero action elements. i appreciate that, and it reminds me of the way Into the Spider-Verse uses the Kingpin's literal body to manipulate the frame and affect the cinematography, in some ways.

Birds of Prey is less heavy on the noir elements but has a lot of really good color grading for setting the mood. like the lighting in the final scenes? it's so moody and effective, and I love a good movie with good color stylization, using purples and blues and reds like yes, please do that, I'm sick of Realistic Lighting™️ (Mad Max: Fury Road also did this really well). it looks fantastic throughout and is just a very well directed action movie imo

birds of prey also has possibly the best fight scene choreography i've ever seen in a modern superhero movie, along with like... tasm2?? which also has some stellar action choreo and really fascinating set pieces and setups (basically everything involving electro was fucking sick) but like, i think BoP surpasses pretty much every live action superhero movie i've ever seen, including my fave live action spidey movies (Spider-Man 2 and TASM and TASM 2, minus the green goblin but including the clock tower) in being not just fast and frenetic and high-impact, but also being clear, concise, easy to follow, and creative. the glitter cannon stuff is so well done and was very fun to watch in the theater. The fight scenes in Birds of Prey are fun, fast, clear, and absolutely fucking brutal.

i feel like i always compare it to Black Panther, which i saw first obvs (though not in theaters), and which is a solid movie that i enjoyed for the most part, and which is indeed probably the best MCU movie in general, but I found the fight scenes in Black Panther to be muddy and somewhat difficult to follow, almost slow, despite being... technically fast? I only bring it up specifically because it was praised as being not just the best MCU film (a low bar) but also in being a Great Movie with Great Fight Scenes but... tbh i wasn't big on the fight scenes in Black Panther... though i do think it's got the best costume, hair and makeup of the entire MCU at the moment, personally. and I haven't seen 2, though I hear it's good, but the costumes also look fantastic in that, and I hope the fight choreo has improved cause those movies would be really stellar with the right action choreo imo.

like I said I just brought it up cause like, when I watched Black Panther after hearing it had these amazing fight scenes, and i finally saw them, i felt kind of... confused? like, damn maybe I just have no taste in fight scenes? i was really underwhelmed by it, like, am I missing something that other people are seeing here?? (but like i said, i enjoyed the movie, and it has great costume design) But then I saw Birds of Prey a little while later and was like, blown away by the choreography and cinematography, so I think it's just a matter of the whole designated action setpiece stuff that's going on in the MCU overall, and the way that Disney/Marvel kind of controls that aspect of their movies. i also watched Black Panther on my laptop though, so I wonder if that affected the viewing... like would Birds of Prey be less impressive on my laptop than it was on the big screen (I mean. yes, but in terms of choreo specifically would it be worse on a smaller screen? i'm inclined to say no??? but i haven't rewatched it on DVD yet... maybe i should)

the recent predator movie, Prey, also had some really good choreo and cinematography imo, though I found it suffered somewhat from the use of CGI instead of practical effects for things like the bear hunting, but, I get it, it's cheaper to use CGI than to build a fucking... animatronic bear XD but aesthetically, I think it was an attractive movie and I liked the design for the Predator in that movie a lot... the skull faceplate and general integration of bones into the design was really cool looking, and the like... juxtaposition of natural colors and warm lighting from fire etc. compared to the neon green of the predator blood and its modern technology and cloaking was so interesting, visually. also a movie with absolutely brutal violence lol

actually when i watched Prey, I watched Predators (with the s) the same day, because I was looking at lists and saw it was well-praised, and in some cases put as #2 only behind the original Predator, but... like... it's no contest. Prey is a better movie. I'm sorry if you cannot suspend your disbelief that a teenage native girl outwitted the predator w/ nothing but her environment and handmade weapons but I think the movie sold that really well and showed that she was learning and adapting the entire time, and showed how close she came to dying not just from the predator but from the bear and other animals as well, numerous times. I think it was as convincing as any other "human beats predator" movie can be. and like the other movies, a lot of the humans trying to fight it did die. like... i don't think adrien brody's character in Predators is any more or less convincing as a character using his wits to beat an adversary that is more physically powerful and more technologically advanced than him.

Prey is a better movie imo

Predators was fine, and you know I love topher grace being a weird little guy, but it's simply not a contest lol. it was effective in making you hate most of the characters though, so it did that well XD except of course the most interesting character died, so, whatever. Predators gave me the vibe of a movie that was like, OKAY WE HAVE THE BUDGET FOR THESE BIG NAME ACTORS, we GOT morpheus from the matrix, we GOT machete himself—but we only got the budget for five minutes of screen time so they are going to die immediately unfortunately XD

i also thought the romance was dumb but what else is new lmao

and prey feels like a movie that's not trying to just be big explosions with a famous guy but like, telling a story with characters that know each other already and telling a story about not just overcoming seemingly impossible obstacles and enemies but also about proving oneself, and being true to oneself, and also about how french people suck

anyway boy this ended up being one long ramble about movies i've seen over the past couple years huh

just musing, thinking,

hey man you know what other movie ruled? pacific rim. that's a movie with character design, mood and setting. hell yeah.

i didn't hate the sequel as much as some people but i did think it was lacking a lot of the mood and character of the first (though the mechs looked nice) and while i found the actual plugsuits better designed i thought the helmets were less visually appealing without actual glass visors, and i think its plot would have been better if instead of icing mako they had instead made the plot about her and her brother's relationship instead of playing him off of some bland white dude (though the obvious bisexuality on display was funny)... having mako be the only person he can drift with would have been way more interesting to me tbh... the stuff with the little girl was solid though. but nothing can live up to that first movie, i mean, how COULD it. it's GDT doing mecha! (they should have named the mech in the first movie something else though yikes)

[just-another-blog-of-fluff]

The Waiting Game

Warnings: tickling, fluff

Word count: 3200

I'm not as happy with how this one came out as the last two, but if I keep thinking about it I'll never post it so... hope it's alright!

* * *

You knew you shouldn’t tell anyone. You knew there would be consequences. But it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You had been taking care of your friend’s pet hamster while they were away for the weekend. For the most part, you’d kept it in your room in its cage to avoid bothering the others with all the noise it made overnight, running on its squeaky wheel at all hours. When everyone else had left the compound for the day, you decided the poor animal could use some real exercise. You had placed the critter in his little hamster ball and brought him to the common area so he could roll around freely.

Except, the little door that closed the ball wasn’t latched all the way. Oops.

Before you knew it, you were crawling around on your hands and knees trying to locate your friend’s pet. You left little snacks out around the room in hopes it would get curious and come out of hiding to munch on something. You were so focused on the task at hand you hadn’t noticed Loki had entered the room, until you heard his voice behind you.

“What in the norns are you doing?” he inquired. You turned to look at him, just as you saw a little fuzzy creature tear across the room and right in front of the dark-haired god. He let out a somewhat undignified yelp as he jumped back. Luckily, the hamster stopped at one of the treats you’d left for him, giving you ample opportunity to scoop him up in your hands. “W-what is that?”

“This is my friend’s hamster!” you explained, giggling at his reaction. “The better question is – what was that noise you made? Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this little thing?”

“Of course not! It merely startled me, is all,” he quickly insisted. You held the hamster out toward him, and Loki took a nearly imperceptible step backward.

“Mmhmm, ok. Not scared. Got it.” Grinning, you moved your hand back and petted the hamster gently on the head. “What would the others think if they knew you a tiny little rodent made you freak out?”

Loki narrowed his eyes at you. “Never speak of this,” he demanded, pointing a finger firmly at you to emphasize. He quickly left the room after that, likely to regain his composure.

But you couldn’t just not tell anyone about this gold nugget of information you’d just learned. So, naturally, you told his brother. And Thor, not one for keeping secrets, told everyone else. Needless to say, there was quite a bit of teasing over the next couple of days. You steered clear of the god, knowing he would not take kindly to your having informed the rest of the team about the little incident.

You couldn’t avoid him forever, though. A couple days later, after having returned the pet to your friend, you were making breakfast for yourself in the kitchen when Loki’s voice echoed from the doorway.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated, his tone ominous. You turned from the stove to meet his eye, smiling sweetly to mask your nervousness at being confronted by the trickster.

“No, of course not! We just haven’t crossed paths,” you fibbed. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh yes – I suppose yesterday in the hallway you just realized you forgot something SO important you had to literally sprint in the opposite direction as you saw me approach?”

“Oh… alright, fine. Yes, I’ve been avoiding you. Wouldn’t you do the same?” Loki stepped into the kitchen, taking a few gradual steps toward you.

“You must know there are consequences when you cross me,” he warned. “You humiliated me, and so I think it only fair I do the same to you.”

“Well good luck with that, I’m an open book. There’s no secrets you can use against me,” you quipped.

“You see, I thought that may be the case, so I started querying the other Avengers,” he explained, now standing only a few feet away from you. Instinctively, you put down your half-cooked breakfast and took a step away from the advancing Asgardian. “Most of them had fairly useless information – scared of spiders, fairly standard human weakness… sleeps with a stuffed bear, which everyone already seemed to know about…”

“Please. That’s not embarrassing,” you huffed.

“…and then I spoke to the spider child. He provided me with some very interesting information about you.” Loki smirked, causing you to laugh nervously.

“Oh, do tell,” you urged, folding your arms across your chest, and trying to play it off as a laugh of disbelief. Loki had now backed you into the corner of the kitchen, which you hadn’t realized until your back met the cold plaster of the wall.

“He informed me that the only time he’s ever seen you truly flustered and embarrassed was during one of your sparring matches, when he accidentally learned about your little secret.” Realization dawned on you, and you tensed up immediately. “He described how you’d begged him not to tell anyone, and he hadn’t up until this point. Apparently he finds me threatening, so it wasn’t difficult to convince him to start talking.”

“I-I don’t know what he could possibly be talking about,” you muttered.

“I think you do,” Loki argued. He pounced at you, lunging with his hands aimed at your sides, causing you to squeak and curl into yourself. His hands stopped inches away from you, close enough that your skin tingled from sheer proximity to his fingertips. “You’re ticklish. Severely, based on that reaction.”

“Pshh, no I’m not! That’s… that’s ridiculous,” you denied, your lie exposed by your nervous giggles and blushing face.

“Mmhmm, I’m sure.” His hands darted toward your belly, again stopping right before he made contact. You yelped and whipped your arms down across your torso to protect yourself. Loki’s smirk only grew wider.

“Ok, fine. You’re right. Just… get it over with!” you begged.

“Oh no. Where would be the fun in that?” he chuckled, stepping back and allowing you space to move away from the wall. “I’ve got to build some anticipation. Catch you when you least expect it.”

“That’s just mean!” you groaned. Loki laughed again, turning around to leave the kitchen. Just before he left, he called over his shoulder.

“You’d better watch your back.”

* * *

Loki’s little game went on for days.

You were on edge at any given moment. Peeking around corners before entering rooms, listening through doors before opening them, trying to ensure your safety before making a move. You half expected him to jump out of nowhere and attack you with tickles on your way down the hallway, but it never happened. Still, you made your travel between rooms as brief as possible.

You wouldn’t say you were dreading the moment he finally did decide to pounce. In fact, in a way the idea made your heart flutter with excitement. What made you most nervous was the thought of the team figuring out you actually enjoyed being tickled, especially Loki. You were certain that that would be the embarrassing part. That, and the fact that you were already flustered by being around Loki long before he figured out this bit of information about you.

You couldn’t always avoid him. There were times that you had to be in the same room for prolonged periods, like during meetings. Loki always seemed to have things set up before you arrived so that the only seat remaining in the room was next to him. You considered sitting on the floor, once, but Steve gave you a scorning look which made you shrink down into the chair beside Loki, albeit begrudgingly. During these meetings, Loki always made sure to keep you on your toes; leaning towards you abruptly and placing his hand on the back of your chair, making you jump, only to whisper something about the meeting presentation, or some ridiculous observation about his brother.

It wasn’t just during work-related gatherings, either. One night, you joined a few of your teammates in the common room to watch a TV show together. Wanda stood up from the couch beside you to go grab a snack from the kitchen, and out of nowhere Loki swooped in and sat down in the spot she previously occupied.

“Good evening,” he greeted you, smirking as you shuffled further toward the edge of the couch to increase the distance between the two of you.

“Loki,” you grunted stiffly in reply.

“Now, y/n, that’s no way to greet your fellow team member,” he scolded tauntingly, clapping a hand on your shoulder, and causing you to flinch away reflexively. He leaned back against the couch, casually propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of you – a stark contrast from your position, huddled in the corner of the couch hugging your knees to your chest in an effort to make yourself as small as possible. “Pray tell, what are we watching?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you huffed. Maybe this whole situation was making you feel a little bratty toward the Asgardian, but in all honesty he really did deserve it.

Suddenly he lunged toward you, causing you to squeak and jolt away from his fingertips. He never touched you, though, closing his fingers around the TV remote sitting on the couch beside you with a smug grin on his face.

“My, my, aren’t we jittery this evening?” he teased, settling back into his seat as he pointed the remote toward the TV to check the guide and find out the show title you had refused to provide.

“Everything alright over there, antsy-pants?” Tony asked, having witnessed the whole interaction.

“Yup! Just peachy,” you replied quickly, shooting Loki a quick glare.

“Peachy? Uh… alright then…” Tony scrutinized you for a moment before turning his attention back to the TV screen.

Needless to say, you didn’t really remember any of the rest of the show from that evening.

Then, as if these group gatherings weren’t enough, there was also your regularly scheduled training sessions. One morning, when Nat had you practicing throwing punches at the punching bag, you sensed Loki lurking around behind you. You turned your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral vision standing a few feet away, observing you silently.

“Better watch yourself – I might just throw one of these punches in your direction,” you threatened, keeping your eye on him as you continued to practice.

“Such hostility,” he teased. “Surely this much stress can’t be good for a mortal such as yourself.” He quickly advanced toward you, causing you to spin around and throw your hands up in front of you in defense. A deep, throaty laugh escaped his lips at your reaction. “You’ve only proven my point. You must learn not to be so tense.” He grabbed hold of your shoulder and turned you around, kneading both shoulders with his strong hands. Under normal circumstances, you’d have melted under his touch, but you were unwilling to let your guard down even for a moment. You grabbed his wrists and turned back to face him, pointing an accusing finger in his face.

“I’m not just going to let you slip past my defenses that easily,” you warned, stepping backward toward the door to leave while he smirked at you in amusement.

“Oh, don’t worry - I’m certain of that.”

* * *

After a week of this charade, you were really getting anxious. You were starting to flinch at every little sound, every rapid movement anyone made in your direction. Even when it wasn’t Loki you were interacting with, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The anticipation was literally driving you insane.

You entered the training room that morning ready to release some of your stress in your sparring session. Unfortunately, Steve had started noticing over the last few days that you and Loki were in the middle of some sort of conflict, and so he assigned the two of you as sparring partners, telling you to either fight it out or get over whatever it was. Reluctantly, you stepped out onto the sparring mat and faced your opponent, already starting to feel nervous butterflies in your stomach. Loki shot you his characteristic mischievous smirk, ducking into his fighting stance.

“I’ll do my best to make this a fair fight,” he goaded. You mimicked his stance, narrowing your eyes at him across the mat.

“Just get on with it, Loki,” you ordered. You didn’t wait around for him to make the first move, throwing a quick one-two punch which he dodged easily. He countered with a jab toward your ribs, stopping just before he made contact, but it was enough to make you flinch. You aimed a low-sweeping kick at his ankles but missed again as he hopped over your leg. Frustrated, you threw another sloppy punch toward his shoulder, but he grabbed hold of your wrist and yanked you toward him, spinning you around easily and pinning your arm behind your back, his other hand gripping your waist.

“Do you yield?” he asked, his voice low in your ear. You spun back around and yanked your wrist free in one fluid motion, driving him backward by slamming your forearm into his chest.

“Not just yet,” you grunted, grinning as he stumbled from the unexpected force. Loki quickly regained his balance, wasting no time in lunging at you again. This time, he aimed his hand toward your side, causing you to yelp and twist awkwardly to avoid his touch.

“Did Natasha teach you that move? Your form is getting sloppy.”

“You know exactly what made me move like that,” you muttered, jumping back on the offensive and landing a couple of blows to his shoulder. He retaliated with a jab straight at your stomach, stopping his own momentum early enough that he merely tapped his fist against your belly. You doubled over, wrapping both arms around your torso protectively.

“It seems your fighting skills require quite a bit of work.”

“Damnit, Loki!” you shouted, unable to take it anymore. “If you’re going to do it, just do it!”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean. You’ve been finding every excuse to lean toward me or make a sudden move in my direction to make me think you’re going to do it. I can’t stand it anymore!” You didn’t quite realize how loudly you were shouting at this point, causing heads to turn in your direction without your noticing. “I know this was all part of your grand plan, to drive me insane with anticipation. You win! I give! Just… get it over with already, please!”

In one swift motion, Loki tackled you flat on your back onto the mat, arms pinned over your head. You felt your stomach somersault, partially from the sudden drop to the floor and partially from the wide smirk on Loki’s face as he hovered over you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Loki released both of your wrists and latched both hands to your sides, squeezing rapidly. You burst into uncontrollable laughter at the agonizingly ticklish sensation. Even Loki seemed somewhat taken aback by your reaction. “No wonder you were so concerned; the spider boy certainly wasn’t lying.”

“Damn you Peteheher!!!” you groaned through your laughter. At this point, everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to see what the sudden commotion was about. You could feel your face burning, knowing everyone’s eyes were on you as Loki tickled you senseless.

You couldn’t bring yourself to fight back very hard, though; after all, you’d been waiting for this to happen for an entire week. You hoped it didn’t seem too obvious. You didn’t dwell on it for long, though, as Loki’s fingers crawled up to your ribs, depriving you of all coherent thought.

“Do you regret spreading humiliating rumors about me yet?” he teased, his smirk widening.

“N-no!”

“Tsk, tsk, wrong answer, darling,” Loki shook his head in mock disappointment, his hands darting back down to your sides so he could dig his thumbs into your hips.

“Lo… Loki… wahahait!” you pleaded, shrieking at the new sensation, and swatting feebly at his hands.

“I’m sorry, I’m not comprehending what you’re trying to tell me.” He was laughing now, clearly enjoying himself as he made you squirm under his torturous fingers. “Come, now, darling; I know you can fight better than that.” You shook your head rapidly, grasping weakly at his wrists. He moved to scribble lightly into your belly, trying to allow you the chance to talk while still keeping you giggling. “Use your words, love.”

“I-I cahahan’t!” you protested.

“You can’t? Or you’ve chosen not to?” Your eyes widened a bit, realizing he’d caught on to you. “Are you enjoying this?”

Blushing furiously, you rolled abruptly to the side to break his hold and scrambled to your feet, gasping for breath. Loki stood as well, staring you down for just a moment before lunging toward you. You turned and began to run, but the god easily caught up to you, grabbing hold of your arm and yanking you backward so he could trap you in what you could only describe as a bear hug.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Um…” Your heart was pounding in your chest from both exertion and embarrassment. “No? That would be… that would be weird.”

“On the contrary; I find it amusing. Dare I say… endearing, even.”

“Really..? Are you sure-” You were cut off by your own hysterical laughter as Loki dug his fingertips into your ribs, tickling you with renewed vigor. With your arms pinned to your sides and your back pressed flush against his chest, there was very little hope of you escaping this time.

“Surely you understand the implications of this newfound knowledge, dear? You’ve provided me with the perfect excuse to torment you whenever I’d like.”

“Stohohop teasing… LOKIHIHI!” you pleaded, your knees going weak as his fingers darted up and down your sides. You’d completely forgotten about everyone else in the room at this point, your mind going fuzzy. The only thing keeping you standing upright at this point was Loki holding your weight up as he tortured you.

By the time he released you from his hold, your stomach hurt from laughing so hard, and tears of mirth blurred your vision. It had been quite some time since anyone had tickled you like that. Heat still prickled in your cheeks, but you felt happy, nonetheless.

“Damn. Now I know how to cheer you up when you’re moping around the tower,” Tony quipped, walking past you and patting your shoulder as everyone finally returned to their own training exercises.

“Shut up, Tony,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. A swift poke in the sides made you jerk both arms down away from your face.

“I do believe we’re even,” Loki stated, smirking.

“Fine. We’re even. Now – can we finish our sparring match? Without cheating this time?” You shoved his shoulder playfully to emphasize your point. He only grinned wider.

“Darling, I refuse to make promises that I don’t intend to keep.”

[zemosreader]

good girl ⎛ oneshot ⎠

MAIN PAIRING: Zemo x reader.

summary: you are set up on a blind date and get more than you planned for.

warnings: blind date, smut, good girl kink, restraints.

word count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST

You couldn’t stop fidgeting with the dress Sharon had all but forced you to buy. It was beautiful, you couldn’t deny it, definitely not your usual style. The dark green dress hit your mid-thigh and had a sweetheart neckline, it had a black lace overlay and fit you like a second skin. You had never felt more attractive really. Sharon had told you to leave your hair down and wild for the night and had done your make up, giving you a dark smokey eye with bright red lipstick.

When you had agreed two weeks before to let Sharon set you up on a blind date, you had had no expectations. Everyone in your circle were always on you to date, to settle down like they all had but no one had caught your interest. This blind date was mainly so they would all leave you alone, if only for a few weeks.

A throat cleared behind you and you jerked around, your eyes staring up into the dark brown eyes of Helmut Zemo. You couldn’t contain your jaw-dropping and it clicking shut when he lifted an eyebrow and smirked at you.

“Good evening.” He drawled in a voice that was so silky, you had to squeeze your legs together under the table.

“Yes,” you squeaked out, “good evening.”

He tilted his head toward you before rounding the table and sliding into the booth across from you. A waiter appeared almost instantly and you watched in silence as he ordered a bottle of wine you had never heard of. As the waiter scurried away, Zemo looked you over, an inscrutable look on his face. You suddenly felt very unprepared for the evening. The waiter returned, holding the bottle for Zemo's inspection before pouring you both a glass.

“Would you allow me to order for you?” he asked you quietly, though there was something about the tone of his voice that made you want to obey him.

Not trusting your voice you simply nodded and listened as he rattled off some food to the waiter.

“I must say, I was not expecting to see you this evening.”

Taking a sip of your wine for courage, you looked him over. “Me neither. I’m surprised actually. How did Sharon get you to agree to a blind date?”

“Sam talked me into it, actually. He told me I needed to get back into the dating game and he knew someone.”

You huffed. You couldn’t believe Sharon had brought more people in to witness your humiliation. Zemo leaned forward and reached across the table, catching your hand in his much larger one.

“I assure you, liebling, I’m not displeased with the company at all.” He brought your hand up to his lips before flipping it over and placing a kiss to the inside of your wrist. Your eyes widened but he didn’t release your hand.

His voice was lower and he leaned even closer to you. “You see, I’ve been watching you from afar. You’re a beautiful woman, I’m surprised you’re unattached.”

“It’s not for a lack of wanting someone, I just haven’t found the right person I suppose.” your voice came out breathy in a way that was so unlike you but something about the man across from you was doing things to your insides you couldn’t explain.

The way he still held onto your hand, close enough to his lips you could feel his warm breath on your skin, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And what is it you’re looking for?” It was a question but again, the tone of his voice was more of a demand and it sent a shiver through your body.

“I uh, I suppose someone to spend my time with,” you said, rather ineloquently. The man across from you was so distracting and you were seriously regretting not being able to wear panties with your dress.

You stared as Zemo let go of your hand and stood abruptly. He slid into the booth next to you, one arm casually behind you on the back of the booth, the other coming to rest rather high on your thigh.

“I’m looking for much the same. Tell me, liebling, could you see yourself spending time with me?” he asked, his voice husky as he whispered in your ear.

Your breathing was uneven, coming out in short bursts. “I would certainly enjoy getting to know you more.”

His fingers toyed with the edges of your dress, sliding up just slightly and then they were gone just as suddenly as the waiter re-appeared with your food. Zemo continued sitting next to her as you ate, his left hand now firmly gripping your thigh. You couldn’t even be sure what it was you ate, to focused on the feeling of his hand.

Soon, dinner was ending and you allowed Zemo to lead you from the restaurant and down a dark alley. He wrapped his arm firmly around your waist, cocking an eyebrow as if asking your permission. When you nodded, he lead you away. The moment you stopped walking, you stood in what appeared to be the hallway of a newly remodelled house, his lips were on yours. One hand was palming your arse the other tangled up in your hair. Helmut Zemo may be many things, an excellent kisser now being at the top of your list. There was something about the man you couldn’t put your finger on but you were more than happy to find out what it was.

He pulled away and led your from the hall, up to several flights of stairs until you were outside of massive french doors. He threw them open and led the way into a grand bedroom with a massive king size bed covered in black silk taking pride of place. He turned to look at you and spun you around so your back was flush with his chest. Your breath caught as he began letting the zipper down on your dress. Slowly, the material fell away until you were completely naked. You let his hands explore your body, skimming up your sides gently, palming your breasts, his fingers ghosting over your dripping wet cunt.

Turning you back around, he looked down at you, his eyes alight with desire. He pushed your chin up until you made eye-contact.

“If this isn’t something you want, at any point, just say so,” he told you seriously.

Nodding your head, he smirked. “I need to hear you say it, liebling.”

“I...I want this. Whatever you want.” you stammered out.

“Oh liebling, don’t tell me that. You have no idea what all I want to do with you.” His left hand snaked down between the two of you and his fingers began teasing your clit. You gasped, it had been so long since anyone but yourself had done that and it felt amazing.

Blowing out a breath, you looked back up at him. “I think I can handle whatever you can throw at me.”

Before you realized what was happening, Zemo had scooped you up and dropped you on the bed. He began slowly removing his clothes, tossing everything to the side. You scooted up until you were leaning against the headboard, pillows and silk surrounding you as he made his way up the bed. He pushed your legs apart gently and kissed his way up your leg, never taking his eyes off of yours. The moment his tongue touched your cunt, you let out a moan, no longer caring. When you felt him slide two fingers into your pussy, you clenched around them as he began pumping in and out, licking and nipping at your clit, quickly bringing you to the edge. Just when you felt yourself fall over the edge, he quickly removed the digits, sucking them into his mouth.

His large, pale hands began sliding up her stomach, a stark contrast against your flushed skin. He palmed your breast, pulling one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently at first and them harder. Your breaths were coming out fast, your breast rising and falling quickly. Suddenly, he pulled you down from the headboard until he was towering over top of you. He smirked down at you before flipping you over suddenly, pulling you arse up so it was up in the air. Running his hands over it, he left a light, stinging slap. The sensation went straight to your core. You turned your head and found him holding the belt he had left on the bed.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked gently.

“Oh yes.” you breathed.

The moment the words left your mouth, he bent your legs so your heels were touching your arse. The cool leather encircled your thighs and calves and tightened. This was everything you had wanted and always been too afraid to ask for. Someone to dominate you in a way that still left you with a choice. Zemo kneeled behind you, his hands caressing your arse, up your back, your cheek, and then to your hair. He grabbed a first full and pulled your head back gently right as he pushed inside you.

“Good girl” he breathed out. A shiver of excitement at the words went through your entire body, drenching you even more.

Feeling full, you wanted him to move, to fuck you hard and fast. He started slowly at first, both adjusting to the feel of him full seated inside you. When he began rocking back and forth, you couldn’t hold back the moans.

“Harder.” you breathed out.

“As you wish.” He said, pulling out almost all the way before slamming into you over and over, his thrusts becoming more frenzied, the grip on your hair loosening, his hand reaching under you and palming your breast, tweaking your nipple. You felt yourself coming undone, your muscles tightening around him. Just as you let herself come, you felt Zemo still inside you, filling you completely, deep inside you. His grip on your hip never loosened and you relished the thought that you may have to cover up a bruise or two.

When he pulled out from you gently, he rolled you over and pulled you on top on him, pushing your hair out of your face. You were only slightly surprised by the gentle smile on his face, the sated look in his eyes.

“I hope you don’t have any ideas about leaving. I’m not anywhere close to done with you, liebling.”

[mellowswriting]

Settled - A Sequel to The Future

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

summary || A glimpse into domestic life with Din. 

word count || 4,238

warnings || soft smut, food consumption, pregnant reader, domestic fluff, Din Djarin is the best dad in the universe but we already knew that, Uncle Paz Vizsla bc I’m shameless

a/n ||  Listen... soft domesticity with Din was something I didn’t realized I needed in life until writing this, so I had so much fun. Thank you to the anons who sent the requests that inspired this! ​

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Translations: riduur - spouse buir - parent mesh’la - beautiful kurshi’ika - little tree cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart

It was the kind of morning people wrote poetry about, line after eloquent line about how the sun broke over the trees in brilliant streaks of orange and pink backed by the symphony of cheerful bird chatter, how the steam from your coffee mug curled through the air in a lazy pirouette, how each sip you took as you read by the open window filled you to the brim with a warm peace that rivaled any other. That kind of tranquility was something you had craved, but never thought you could actually have for yourself.

You were never more glad to be wrong.

Every promise Din made to you, he followed through on. Ma’ira was small but beautiful, covered with lush forests and dotted with turquoise colored lakes, and the second you landed on the planet you just knew. Something about it all felt right. It didn’t take long to find the home you now lived in with your riduur, an almost cottage-like home on the outskirts of town, far enough away that Din felt comfortable enough to strip away his armor more often than not.

It had been a strange adjustment. Din wasn’t used to the possibility of being so open. You weren’t used to the possibility of staying put. But the biggest adjustment of all was the swell of your stomach when you first moved into the house that the two of you had turned into a warm, happy home. Din, being the overachiever of the century, somehow managed to knock you up right on the first try. To say that the both of you were surprised would be an understatement. You expected to have more time, to be able to spend however long it took to find the absolute perfect place to settle down.

In more ways than one, you were beyond glad that your lover was such an overachiever. You would have overthought it all; which planet was the best to settle down on, whether or not the house you chose was the right one, if your town was safe enough. The kiddo growing in your belly like a weed forced you both to make a decision in a timely manner and now you had an incredible husband, a perfect daughter, and another warrior growing strong in your belly.

At two years old, Willow was a bright, vibrant little girl who also managed to create mischief anywhere her little feet could carry her. And with all of that endless bounty of toddler energy? Yeah, you needed those calm mornings as a reprieve from her energy, as much as you loved her

It was the rumble of her bare feet on the wood floors that drew you from the novel in your hands, her wild mess of brown hair the first thing you saw as she clambered in your lap. Her arms wound around your neck as she pulled you into a bear hug, practically choking the life out of you in her excitement.

“Good morning, Willow,” You said as you shifted her weight away from the swell of your belly before brushing her curls out of her face. “How about we go wake up your buir, huh? I think he’s gotten to sleep in enough this morning.”

Willow’s eyes lit up at the mention of her father and she nodded emphatically, already ready to poke at her father until he woke up like she did every morning. You made your way into your bedroom with her on your hip and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight your husband made. Din was still dead asleep, his face buried in the crook of his elbow, the stark contrast of his tan skin against the white sheets made even more striking by the sunlight flooding through the windows. Just like his daughter, his hair was a curly mess atop his head.

You gingerly set Willow down next to Din and she crawled over to kneel at his side and pry his arm away from his face. It woke him up immediately, you could tell by the slight curve of his lips despite his still closed eyes - a game he played almost every morning with his daughter. Next came the poking at his cheeks, then his eyebrows, and then his lips - where Din grabbed her hand and pretended to gobble her up.

“Papa!” Willow squealed, devolving into a fit of giggles as she tried to squirm away. “Mama, help!”

The second you leaned over to try to scoop her up, Din pulled you down onto the bed on top of him and pressed a kiss to your lips, always careful not to put pressure on your stomach. You shifted to lay next to him, propping your baby bump on his side to relieve the tension. Sat there in that bed, your husband rubbing your belly with one warm hand and your toddler jumping and tumbling around the pillows, her peals of laughter echoing off of your bedroom walls… well, it brought you more peace than any early morning sunrise or good book could ever bring you.

“Good morning, mesh’la.” Din murmured against your temple where he pressed a kiss, his voice rumbling low and sleepy. “How’s the book?”

“About halfway through, it’s a good one.” You loved the interest he took in your little hobbies. The newest book in particular was the fourth in a series Din had gotten for you. He knew you liked to read while you breastfed and was more than happy to provide you with as many books as possible. “The little one is kicking up a storm, though. He’s killing my bladder.”

Din hummed as he slid down to speak right into your belly. “Be good to your mama, little one.”

He kissed your baby bump, leaned up to kiss your lips, and then stood to stretch his arms high above his head with a strained groan. “Come on, kurshi’ika, let’s get your hair fixed.”

You smiled at the nickname, watching Din carry his little girl to the bathroom. He may be an intimidating Mandalorian, a big and bad ex-bounty hunter, but he was the softest, sweetest dad you had ever seen. With a low groan, you eased yourself onto your feet and busied yourself with preparing breakfast, and by the time Din emerged from the bathroom with Willow, you had yogurt and a pile of sliced strawberries ready for her.

Sitting down to eat meals together was something you cherished. It felt like a completely different life, back when you and Din would have to sit in separate rooms to eat to protect his creed, back when everything was so complicated. Now Din would share small bites of his own meals with Willow, he talked through mouthfuls of food hidden behind his hand, he cleared the table once all of you were finished. Yet another new side of your soulmate that you had the privilege of seeing.

It didn’t take long for Willow to finish her breakfast and ask to be let down to play. It amazed you how much energy such a small kid managed to contain, watching her zip around the living room without pausing to take a breath. You couldn’t help but laugh as Din tried to keep up with her. Not long ago, you would’ve been right there on the floor with them, but now that pregnancy had shifted your center of gravity and had your back and feet aching constantly, it was too damn hard.

While Willow was lucky to have a dad who had no qualms with crawling around on the floor with her, even he couldn’t rival her energy. Din dropped onto the couch next to you with a long drawn out sigh, watching with raised eyebrows as his daughter shot around the room.

“How does she do it?” He chuckled, shaking his head. You hummed in lieu of an answer and leaned your head against his shoulder. Just like with your first pregnancy, you were tired more often than not and Din’s warmth was like a heavy blanket that could only lure you closer to sleep. Din pulled you closer to rub your belly. “How are we going to do it? With two?”

“If we can handle bounty hunting, we can handle two kids, my love.” You murmured, your eyes falling closed as you relaxed against him.

“Bounty hunting was less scary.” Din said with a huffed laugh and yeah, he wasn’t exactly wrong. But as terrifying as parenthood could be, watching Willow grow and learn made everything worth it. You could see pieces of both of you in her; she had Din’s hair and your eyes. She had her father’s attitude and your perfected puppy-dog eyes. She had her father’s grumpy face and your laugh.

Even so, she was becoming her own person the more she grew. Every annoyed huff, every little pout, every time she jumped out from behind the couch or bed to ‘scare’ one of you, it became more glaringly obvious just how lucky you both were. The little one growing strong in your belly would only add to that luck, you just knew it. Even when your bladder was being used as a trampoline, when the exhaustion got so bad you had to nap in the middle of the day, when the nausea overwhelmed you, there was an underlying tone of luckiness.

Three quick knocks had you easing yourself off of the couch despite Din insisting he could get it. If you stayed on that couch curled up next to him any longer, you would fall asleep and you knew it. A warm rush of air flooded against you when you opened the door and you smiled brightly at the man in front of you.

“Paz! It’s good to see you!” You said as you pulled him in for a hug. “Come on in.”

The second Willow saw him, an excited cry of “Uncle Paz!” echoed through the living room as she scrambled to give him a bear hug. Paz was the one who made you realize that your husband wasn’t an anomaly among Mandalorians - you knew they cherished children, that raising them to be strong and healthy was the foundation of their culture, but you hadn’t realized just how gentle they were with the littlest ones. If anyone had told you before all of this that you would see Din Djarin and Paz Vizsla sitting on the floor and happily playing along with a tea party for a two year old and her stuffed bunnies, you would’ve laughed at the very idea.

But now it was a weekly occurrence, one that you would cherish the memories of for the rest of your life, and you couldn’t imagine life any other way.

“Are you sure she’s ready, cyar’ika?” Din murmured as he watched Willow debate which stuffed animal she should bring with her.

“I definitely think she is. Besides, Jaina and Paz are only a few miles away. If she changes her mind, we’ll go pick her up.” You rubbed his arm reassuringly. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Just nervous.” He grunted.

Willow’s first overnight away was something you both agreed on, but that didn’t mean neither of you were anxious about it. Paz and his wife were the only ones you trusted enough and Maker knows that they didn’t mind helping. You were all family, after all.

“She’s going to be with them while I’m in labor, she needs to be comfortable if she has to stay overnight. But we can put this off a bit longer if you want.” You offered, but he shook his head. No matter when Willow went to spend the night with her Uncle, it was going to be nerve wracking and you both knew it.

You knelt next to Willow and helped her zip up the bag she had stuffed full of toys. “Okay, Willow. Are you excited to stay with Uncle Paz and Aunt Jaina?”

Willow nodded emphatically, bouncing on her toes and struggling to keep her attention on you in her excitement, especially when she saw her dad walking over to crouch down next to her as well.

“Be a good listener for Paz, okay kurshi’ika?” Din reminded her gently and Willow nodded again before hugging him tightly. The worry on his face eased as he held her close.

“Bye, Papa.” Willow chirped before turning to hug you as well. “Bye, Mama. Bye, Baby.”

The kiss she popped against your belly choked you up and you almost wanted to wrap her up in your arms and never let her go. Oh, your sweet, precious little girl. So excited to be a big sister, already so loving to a sibling that wasn’t even born yet.

You watched her hop along after Paz and as he strapped her into the seat of his speeder, always overly cautious about the strap placement of her harness, but Paz was a quick learner. All it took was that one time of showing him exactly where the chest clip was meant to be and stressing the importance of it, and the man had it down expertly.

You expected the house to feel smaller, empty without Willow’s high peals of laughter and exhaustive energy, and while that thread of nervousness at being away from your child still held true, the idea of getting to relax with your husband without any real obligations was… nice. Different, but nice. You sat down heavily on the couch, that heavy exhaustion creeping over you to weigh down your eyelids the moment you met the cushions.

It was the feeling of Din’s hands rubbing the tension from your feet that woke you sometime later. His attention was on the television across the room, some rerun of a trashy holodrama playing at a low volume. You smiled sleepily at him. So handsome with his fluffy, unkempt hair and the stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving in the past few days. You reached out to graze his arm with your fingertips and Din smiled before he even looked away from the screen.

“How was your nap?” He asked quietly, a soft fondness on his face.

“Good,” Your voice was rough with sleep. You wiggled your toes against his hand. “This is better, though.”

Din chuckled but complied, those strong fingers of his digging into the arch of your foot and pulling a pleased hum deep from your chest. The man had hands like magic. It was something he loved to do, taking care of your body aches and tense muscles, especially when you were pregnant. He was the one who put you in that state after all. He felt it was his responsibility to take care of you, however you needed.

The tightness of your muscles slowly relaxed with each kneading pass of his fingers, his hands slowly making their way up past your ankles, working through your calves and your knees. He pressed feather light kisses to your calves as he worked his hands, shifting so he could lean over you and slowly work himself up your body. Din knew exactly what he was doing, could tell by the way your contented little hums morphed into pleasured moans.

A grin found your lips when your heady whine was met with a low, needy groan. Din nipped your inner thigh playfully and looked up at you with those bright eyes. “What do you need, Din?”

“You.” He leaned up to press his forehead to yours. “Just you.”

“You have me.” You whispered, your heart pattering faster in your chest. It had been far too long since you could just let loose with him and enjoy each other without having to think about anything other than the feel of each other’s bodies. “You always have me.”

Din kissed you, one hand propping himself up next to you and the other gripping your chin to tip your head back. A shudder rocked through you at the feeling of his tongue dipping to lick at your lips. You pulled away to pat his cheek, a breathless laugh falling from your lips.

“Not on the couch,” You said. “Take me to bed, riduur.”

Your husband helped you to your feet, ushering you ahead of him with one big hand smacking and grabbing at your ass as you laughed at his antics. Before you were showing, Din would’ve had no issue shoving you down on the bed and going to town on you, and while his touch was still firm, he was gentle. Beyond careful.

He had you stripped in no time, your shirt and shorts flung somewhere unknown and uncared for. The warmth of his hand at your waist made you shiver and press closer; the skin on skin of his chest pressed against your back was addictive, left you keening for more, for any other gentle touch he would grace you with. It was a kiss to your neck that came next, followed almost immediately by the drag of his teeth against your pulse. His fingers knotted in your hair, angling your head to give him better access to the corded muscle of your neck that he loved sinking his teeth into.

The stuttered cries he managed to pull from you were like music to Din’s ears. Every single sound you made for him… fuck, they were just as pretty as you. He pressed you forward onto your hands and knees, grinning at the way your fingers immediately curled into the sheets, and ground his clothed cock against your ass in a slow circle, relishing in the desperate cant of your hips in your search for more friction.

“So needy, cyar’ika.” Din murmured as he leaned down to kiss and lick and bite at your shoulder blades, his hand coming down to cradle your belly, feeling his child close and safe inside of you. “Such a good girl, huh? Always so good for me.”

“Please…” You arched against him with a whine, seeking his touch where you really, desperately needed it. The look you tossed at him over your shoulder was almost enough to break him. “I need you.”

Din popped the hems of his briefs with how quickly he ripped them off. He moved to kneel at the edge of the bed, ready to open you up for him, spread you out with his tongue and his fingers and let your pretty little moans soak into his ego and stroke his pride. Your foot shot out to stop him, damn near catching him in the ribs.

“Fuck, Din, I’m ready. I promise, I just need you, please -”

He eased your desperation with a hand at the base of your spine, shuddering at how much you needed him, his touch, his cock buried as deep as possible in your wet little cunt. Din’s fingers brushed your core gently, barely touching you to hear that needy whine one more time, before tracing your clit in practiced circles.

The arch of your hips deepened as you relished in the pleasure your husband sparked through your body, unable to curb the needy sounds you made. Sex with Din was always a good time, but sex with Din while you were pregnant was next fucking level. The doctor had told you it was because of higher blood flow and blah, blah, blah, but you had a sneaking suspicion that he was also just that good. You didn’t even realize you were begging at first, crying out a high, ‘please, please, please’ until you felt Din’s cock notch at your entrance, the hand he had at the base of your spine sliding down to grasp firm at your neck.

He pushed into you in one smooth, devastating stroke, not stopping until his pelvis was flush against. The groan he gave was one you heard time and time again, his voice reverent as if you were the goddess to absolve him of all of his sins, the one to save him and bring him to salvation. It broke you down and built you up in the same second, pride swelling in your chest at the pleasure you brought him, at the pleasure he brought you. Just the full feeling of his cock stretching you was enough to have you trembling beneath him, so that first slow stroke, the roll of his hips as he pulled away only to push back into you, it was devastating.

“Fuck…” Din’s head tipped back, his hips setting a steady, slow pace that still had you almost too full but still needing more. “So fucking wet for me, so ti-ight.”

You wanted to praise him, to tell him how good he felt inside of you, how his thick cock made you quiver around him, but your voice had disappeared, fizzled out with that first thrust. But you could show him. You pushed back against him to meet his thrusts, a cock drunk grin spreading across your face when Din’s pace stuttered at your enthusiasm. The muscles in your thighs and back were starting to ache with the effort of holding yourself up, but before you could find your voice well enough to tell him, he was pulling out of you despite your whined protest.

“Hush, sweet girl,” Din said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he eased you onto your side and settled behind you. “I’ve got you.”

Your leg was lifted to brace against his hip and then Din was thrusting back into you, his bare chest pressed firmly to your back. You leaned your head back against his shoulder as he slid his hand up your thigh and over your hip, desperate for the electric feeling of his practiced fingers against your clit. Instead, those teasing fingers trailed over your belly and up your ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake to flush across your sensitive skin.

“Din…” You whined, sounding every bit like the needy, debauched little thing you felt. Din’s hand snatched yours up when you reached between your legs, only making you whine more.

“Use your words, cyar’ika.” Din murmured low in your ear. He didn’t miss the way his voice made shivers dance down your spine. “Tell me what you need.”

“T-touch me,” You managed to stutter out as you arched against him, angling your hips so that he hit even deeper and the head of his cock pressed against your g-spot. That tension ratcheted tighter in your belly and drug your desperation higher with it. “Fuck, please!”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” Din teased and finally dipped his hand between your thighs, his fingers spreading you open and gathering up your slick to circle your clit.

A loud cry ripped from your chest, your orgasm quickly approaching under Din’s touch, combined with the stuttering breaths coming from your lover. He wasn’t lost on the pleasure he brought you, the feeling of your already tight cunt tensing around him, growing more wet to ease the way for him.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” You huffed, hovering on the edge of ecstasy only driven higher with each stroke.

Din captured your ear lobe between his teeth and hissed one word. “Cum.”

You broke. Keened and trembled and gasped as he rocked you through your orgasm, only shoving his hand away when it became too much for your sensitive nerves. Three more thrusts into you and Din’s pace stuttered, his hand coming up to brace against your hip and hold you in place to bury his seed as deep as your body would allow him. You let out an exhausted, breathless chuckle - if he hadn’t already had knocked you up, that certainly would’ve done it.

The two of you took a moment. Soaked each other in as you caught your breath. Din barely moved, only shifting slightly to pull out as you whined at the loss, but he peppered lazy kisses on your shoulder in apology. In those moments, those hazy post-sex moments where you were both sweaty and sated and beyond in love, your hands wandered as did Din’s. It was almost instinctual, a need to check each other over and soothe any aches, any bites that were a tad too rough.

Din pulled at you with insistent hands, guiding you to roll over and face him so you could use his side to rest your belly on. As much as that helped to ease the ache your growing baby put on your back, it was just as much for him as it was for you. He loved supporting you, feeling you relax against his side, running his palm over your belly and tracing the stretch marks that signified all you did for him, for the children you bore and nurtured both as they grew inside of you and at your breast after their birth.

“Shower?” Din asked after an eternity of peaceful silence.

You hummed your agreement, shivering at the idea of those strong hands massaging your scalp and aching muscles. “In a minute. Just wanna feel you.”

And feel him you did. Din wasn’t the only one who loved to aimlessly trace his lover’s skin. His muscles twitched under your gentle touch, something that never failed to make you smile; he was so strong, so firm, yet a single caress was enough to have him shivering with a small delighted smile on his face.

The shower could wait. The rest of the word could wait. All you needed was Din.

[success-and-corruption]

Gauze Album Review

Because some people want my thoughts on DEG albums I will be reviewing them so I figure I would start with their first full-length one. Please leave a comment on your thoughts on this album and my review.

Track 1: Gauze -mode of adam- (it's actually GARZE -mode of adam-)

This track is okay for what it is. It starts out very dark with circus music but then it becomes fast and hectic. Altogether I don't think it really sets the tone for the rest of the album.

Track 2: Schwein no Isu

Chair of the pig. This track definitely fits with Gauze in my opinion. I really like the opening guitar riff and the bass complements it very well. The German matches the track numbers on the back of the album which I appreciate. My boy Die wrote the music for this song so that's always a plus. I also always love some gang vocals. "Geist seele wille zelle, geist seele wille zelle"

Track 3: Yurameki

Now this song really cements the fact that Gauze is a VK album. Written by Shinya this one perfectly captures that early DEG sound. It's also nice to hear Kyo's clean vocals throughout the entire song. The instruments all work well together as well and I don't think there's much awkwardness with the transitions in this song. Yurameki is one of my favorite songs on the album.

Track 4: raison detre

First we had German and now we have French. Raison detre (or more properly Raison D'être which means reason to be) is a fun track and one I used to know how to play on the bass. The electronic beat and the sound of the guitars get me so pumped despite the... less than positive lyrics. A+ guitar solo.

Track 5: 304 -Goshitsu, Hakushi no Sakura

This song is good in that it's very different from the other tracks on the album. It's dark and Die plays acoustic in this one which is typically associated with a more calm style but this song is fast paced and the music video for it is beautiful visually but the way that the members portray mental illness is not really that accurate. Additionally I think that vocally this is one of Kyo's weakest work on the album.

Track 6: Cage

I actually do know how to play this on the bass and in fact it was one of the first songs I learned when I picked up the instrument. It's also I think one of the few songs that doesn't have the bass in standard tuning, instead it's in drop D. Cage starts out with a calming music box playing the melody of the chorus and then it quickly transitions to a faster tempo with a killer bassline with a bass solo throw into the mix. We all know it. We all love it. This song is very fun even though Kyo sings about a person being abused by their mother and in turn abuses their girlfriend. The transitions could have been a bit smoother in my opinion. It's still a great song to listen to and play on the bass.

Track 7: Tsumi to Batsu

I really don’t like this song very much. The guitars are boring and too repetitious and although I don’t expect anything different from Kyo lyrically (meaning I don't expect any happy lyrics) but these lyrics just don’t do it for me. It's an okay song for what it is but it's definitely one of my least favorite DEG songs in general. I much prefer the remake.

Track 8: Mazohyst of Decadence

This song is surpisingly one of my favorites on the album and another song I know on the bass (but really the bass is super simple in this one). As most people most likely know the lyrics are from the viewpoint of a fetus being aborted. I will not be getting into the abortion debate for obvious but everything in this song just works. The guitars in the beginning, the baby going from laughing to crying, Kyo’s vocals during the chorus. The ambiance and slow tempo really work to paint a very hopeless landscape and that tone setting is what I think DEG does best with their longer songs.

Track 9: Yokan

BOP ALERT. This song definitely deliberately placed after Mazohyst to cheer the listeners up. Yokan is a song in which the instrumentals don’t match the lyrics. The guitars, bass, and drums all paint a bubbly and energetic picture while Kyo sings about a guy no longer loving his girlfriend and mistreating her because he no longer loves her. The lyrics are a very stark contrast from the instrumental part of the song but that's DEG for you. Like Yurameki I think this song is a great way to showcase that VK sound. Didn’t the Yokan single get released like a week before Gauze? Weird. 

Track 10: Mask

“While its members have promised us peace, they have led us to war heedless of the platform upon which they were elected.” 

This was a snippet from Charles Lindbergh in his Des Moines speech in 1941 in which he blames the British, Jewish people, and the Roosevelt administration for leading the USA into WW II. BIG yikes. I think this song is about how people shouldn’t just follow orders for the sake of following orders which was the central theme of the Nuremberg Trials in which the Nazis were being tried as war criminals. Or maybe it's just about a corrupt government? Sorry for the history lesson but I felt that the context was important to understand the song. On to the musicality of the song: this song took awhile to grow on me because it seemed kind of messy and like I couldn't ever catch a break. It just keeps going... but eventually I learned to appreciate it for what it is. Again not really my favorite song but it's also not a song I think about very much.

Track 11: Zan

Kyo’s breathing and laughing set the stage for this song. The song itself is rather jarring and in my opinion a bit hard to listen to. I much prefer the remake but this is not a bad song. Not really much to say about this one other than it's definitely the heaviest track on the entire album.

Track 12: Akuro no Oka

What a song. I really love all of it and I also know how to play this on the bass minus the solo. This song feels like a story in music form and I love Kaoru’s hat in the music video for it. The wind sound Die's acoustic strumming opens the song and continues throughout the song as Kaoru, Toshiya, and Shinya play. When I listen to it I can feel the gloominess and sadness that this song portrays through the instruments and Kyo's vocals. This song was written in A minor I think so it makes sense that it would sound sad. Kaoru's guitar solo is melancholy and Toshiya's bass solo provokes some sort of emotioanl response from me. I think it’s a perfect way to end this album.

Track 13 (?): Gauze -mode of eve-

This is technically part of Akuro no Oka but it’s definitely different. Not much to say. It’s spooky and Kyo counts down in English. 

Bonus time!

Of course I have the limited edition

Bonus track 1: I’ll (single version)

I have this single as well and I like how it’s the same size as a Gamecube game disk. With that out of the way, I think this song really doesn’t fit with the overall mood of the album but the bassline sure is catchy. 

Bonus track 2: Jealous (single version)

This song fits the mood of the album more, but not quite. I also have this single. I haven’t listened to this song in a long time so I don’t really have much to say. Sorry. 

Overall this is a very promising first full-length album and a great introduction to early DEG and their past VK style. In general I enjoy their heavier stuff but this album is just a good time all around. I rate it 8/10 because some of the songs just don’t do it for me. 

That’s it! My first ever album review. I want to hear your thoughts because I’m sure many people will disagree with me. 

[thesimperiuscurse]

08.04

It’s The Kingston Legacy’s sixth anniversary, so here’s a throwback post to celebrate! Last month I forced myself to reread the entire legacy, and while I stopped, clicked off the tab, and emitted a soundless scream of pure cringe numerous times (I wish I was kidding)—the past generations are actually not as terrible as I remember. I think enough time has passed for me to detach myself from the childish storytelling and look back in nostalgia. 

Thank you to my fellow Wordpress writers who have come along the journey, some for many years now, through every high and low. It’s astounding how much has changed in the legacy from when I was 15, and 21. Follow me down the (very) long memory lane, as I reminiscence about each story and my perspective on them now ❤

Generation 1 — Fern (2015)

To my shock, I found myself genuinely enjoying Fern’s story. I think this was because the first generation was purely me commentating on gameplay, and not trying to write a story (that’s when the cringe began). I was inspired by one of the original stories, Alice and Kev, to make a homeless sim and document her struggle for a better life: Fern, a snobby aspiring writer. Reading this, a huge wave of nostalgia hit me, and it reminded me of how wonderful Sims 3 gameplay is. Although I’m long past it now, there’s real heart and life in the design. I think it speaks about the rich personalities and quirks that I could write a whole life story off it. It was super fun making Fern camp out at Old Pier Beach, stealing from townie picnics and roasting apples on the fire, finding little ways to scrounge money, giving her a makeover in the salon, watching the townie dramas unfold around her. Although she faced homelessness two times and a shitty first husband (yeah, fuck off, Xander), Fern grew into a strong and independent yet sweet and gentle character, in love with the ocean like her great-granddaughter comes to be.  

I never actually addressed this, but she (and her love Christopher) passed away in the story between the end of Gen 3 and start of Gen 4. It just felt weird to make it a big deal because they never died in game—still ‘alive’ and well, scattered across different backup saves and the bin.  

Generation 2 — Briar (2015)

Briar’s story was strange, because it was half gameplay and half story, which meant that there were things that just did not... make... sense. She was quite an ‘unreliable’ character to follow because of her Insane trait. The plot revolved around her as a fresh detective, investigating supernatural phenomena in Sunset Valley. Her character arc was almost the opposite to her mother’s: a naive, optimistic, silly girl hardening through trauma into a cold and ruthless police chief. Ash’s death was the one moment I felt true sadness in this legacy, because he did really die. Imagine me actually getting emotional over my characters, lmao. Wild. 

Also, Max is OP. To this day he is one of the best male characters in my legacy, a healthy and supportive best friend (to husband) in stark contrast to the following generation. 

Fallen Angels — Cherry (2016-2019)

Yes. It’s this generation. Square the fuck up, Cherry. I will fight her any day. Old readers will know of my pure hatred for this story. It’s been about two years since it thankfully ended. My verdict now?

It’s not quite as horrifically shitty, Gabriel and Lilith being a lot nicer than I remembered (Gabriel’s only a bit of a dick at the start), but it still has glaring problems, such as the pacing and clumsy handling of sensitive topics. The story would have been far nicer if it focused less on Cherry and Luc’s relationship and their respective issues, more on the found family and her relationship with Gabriel (which was rushed due to me despising the story by that point). During the first chapters, I was cringing spectacularly at the combination of Luc’s initial jackass behaviour and Cherry’s whining. Toxic as FUCK. I had to skip 3.8 and 3.9 entirely. These two (because of my own shameful mistake) tainted the generation in my eyes, and even though all of the characters grew from their toxicity, I can’t really see past that guilt to the better parts of the story. 

Jade has been telling me for years that this story isn’t all bad, and upon forcing myself to reread, I can see what you mean. I’m sorry LOL. Something that pleasantly surprised me was the writing quality (just the prose, not the actual story mechanics... lmfao), and Raphael, who made me smile every time he appeared. Every single careless, sarcastic line of his was a banger. The pictures are something else I like, too. Many of them stand up to the best ones in En Pointe—the fiery, gritty, industrial tones of Bridgeport just hits different. The world was rich and immersive, which is missing at the moment in En Pointe because of me being too lazy to build a proper Los Angeles world, but Act III is set in Boroughsburg so I’m excited to get back into the city scenes. 17 year old me wasn’t mature enough to tackle dark themes, but at least the visuals for them were nice, I guess. The atmosphere of the story I really enjoy. It’s just the toxic characters and way-too-angsty moments that ruin the whole thing for me. 

En Pointe — Evangeline (2019-)

And here we are now! The early chapters are kinda painful to read because 1) Mako looked so ugly and 2) the dialogue was so clumsy and generic. I sighed in relief when Chapter 5 came around, because it was then both of those aspects really began to improve. Eva’s voice was simple, with her punchy remarks, much less romantic and descriptive than Cherry, so it was interesting to see her voice becoming more complex and layered as I more understood her character. Also, me visibly struggling with the natural lighting and only getting a handle on it 7 chapters later has me shaking my head. 

I’m already beginning to identify issues with the story, mostly with character arcs and pacing. It’s a strange combination of fast pacing (spanning half a year in 8 chapters) and Eva becoming surprisingly comfortable with Mako’s touch due to their unusual pas de deux circumstances. It’s curious how real life time actually played into the pacing of the story—because of the slow publishing schedule, less time has passed in the story as real life, so it’s almost as if the time jumps were made up by real life time, making the jumps feel not too strange. Reading consecutively, however, Evako’s relationship growth doesn’t feel slow burn... a little underdeveloped, in a way, despite their lengthy conversations. I think that’s because of Mako being such a reserved and mysterious character, and that I’ve unconsciously come to rely on Tumblr to give more depth to the characters/relationships. Luckily, pretty much everyone who comments on the story also follows me here, so this dual-platform storytelling is okay, I suppose. I want to post more of #Mishako since there just isn’t enough time to explore their bromance in the story!

At the moment I’m not happy with the story, but it’s fine. I’m learning. There’s more than half the story to go, which means plenty of time to reflect upon the issues and improve. I’m really looking forward to Eva and Mako’s character arcs in Act III. At the moment their relationship is based on their natural chemistry and respect for each other, and since they are yet to face trials their bond isn’t super deep, but Evako are still my favourite couple in the legacy thus far, and feel much more real than any character I’ve written before. It’s been very interesting for my aro ass (and being way more logical than emotional) to figure out a dynamic that is actually compelling to me, because most of the time when I look at romance I’m just like 😐🤨 I’m liking it so far but we shall see how everything unfolds, because I have barely any idea what’s going to happen beyond Act II, lmfao. 

That’s it for my incredibly long throwback! I hope it was at least nice for the OG readers, and interesting for anyone else who managed to battle through this essay, haha. This family has been an integral part of me growing up, as a person and writer and artist (what I’ve developed in visuals I apply to architecture), learning a great deal of awareness about real life through story research, which is pretty cool now that I think about it. I’m aiming to finish En Pointe by the end of 2022. I’m excited for what unexpected changes are to come!

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

"- my sister? Where's he keeping her?" Found her. Caitlyn beelined towards the yelling, jaw set. Of course. She'd let five-sixteen out of her line of sight for two minutes and the next thing she knew the little thug was gone as if she'd never been. She'd ditched Caitlyn- dumped her, tricked her, left her there and run off. She should have known better then to let herself be taken in by a wry smile and vibrant grey eyes and those muscles- -no, nope. Not going there. She didn't know why she was surprised. Five-sixteen- no, Vi- had already shown that she had no respect for Caitlyn or her time, and was very willing and ready to abandon her at the drop of a hat. She was, honestly, surprised Vi hadn't tried harder to be rid of her. It almost seemed like a game to her- a test. My sister could do that when she was seven, the prisoner had said, upon first coming down here. She'd mentioned her once or twice after, in passing, too; a little sister, she was fairly certain. Six years in jail, no one ever told you what was happening with her? No one ever saw you? Had she failed it, then? She couldn't do something a seven year old could do, so now she was just baggage? Well excuse me for not being raised in a trash heap. I walk places. On a road. Like a person. It was an unkind thought. She knew it was. But she wasn't feeling particularly kind. Between having to toss a particularly lovely and very nice young lady off of her lap like a sack of flour and race out of the whorehouse, collecting herself and having to also- um, collect herself- and realizing that she didn't have the first clue where Violet may have gone, and she was alone and lost in the Undercity- she felt about as generous as a miser on Snowfall holiday. Come on, Vi. Let me hear you. Tell me where you are. There was a part of her she didn't want to acknowledge, a part she didn't want to think about, that was concerned. She had, on more then one occasion, gotten a glimpse of Vi's face- of her eyes. There was something deep and dark in them, something troubled, lurking under the wry comments and smart-ass quips. She only laughed in harsh, chuffing half-snorts, grinned hard and showed too many teeth when she did, watched people like a predator except for when she was staring at them and not really seeing whoever or whatever she was looking at. She had never seen anyone who looked at people like Vi did; like she was trying to determine both where the knife was and where the best place to strike was all at the same time.

She was dangerous- but Caitlyn couldn't help but wonder if she was almost more dangerous to herself then anyone else. She was fighting demons, and she was losing. She didn't hear anything else.

Teeth gritted, she listened hard, hoping, praying. There. "-works for him." The new voice was unfamiliar, but low; low enough that she had to be close if she was hearing it. Deep, rich tones; amused, tolerant. It was a stark contrast to the anger and desperation in Vi's own voice. She whirled around the corner, and there they were. She saw them. Vi, perched on top of another female form. One foot was on top of a glowing, mechanical arm, pinning it at the shoulder, her knee between the bigger woman's legs, her hand wrapped around her opponent's throat, pulling her upwards by it. God dammit, Vi. She growled to herself, frustrated both by Vi's recklessness and her own rapidly becoming more clear lack of actual control in the situation. For now, she kept her distance, mentally noting a ramp downward to where the other two women were struggling.

She watched as Vi reacted to whatever had been said, brow furrowing as the grip on the bigger woman's neck loosened- and before Caitlyn could react or understand what she was seeing, the larger female rammed her fist forward, hard. She wasn't sure what had happened, at first. She furrowed her brow, waiting. Vi had slumped over, and- -and oh. Oh, hell. She could see it now; the bigger woman's prosthetic was not just an arm, apparently. She had dug what seemed to be a blade or claws deep into Vi's stomach, and her companion was limp, panting, unmoving. The dark haired woman shifted, threw Vi off in one, ferocious motion, climbing to her feet. Shit. Shit, shit shit! Stupid little thug had blown their cover, given them away, and now she was going to get herself killed- -she was crawling. Crawling, desperately, to escape, to get back to her feet, and in that moment all the tough-guy crap, the rebel ex-con mask was gone. The predator had picked the wrong fight, underestimated the prey.

She looked very small, and very scared.

Caitlyn watched, teeth gritted, as Vi dragged herself forward, struggling, stubborn, but failing quickly. She needed a clear shot. Give me a clear shot. Vi collapsed, slumped in pain and exhaustion; Caitlyn watched, jaw set, as the frankly giant woman strolled around her, fingers grazing along Vi's spine in a twisted form of petting before she put herself in front of her, blocking off any hope of escape.

She watched. The woman said something.

She watched. The mechanical arm lifted, like a blade- straight, sharp, like pulling back a bow.

Powerful. Beautiful, honestly. You had to admire a craftsman, even if you didn't agree with what they used their talents to achieve. She watched. And she saw. She let out her breath, and took her shot the second the vial of Shimmer emerged from the top of the big woman's shoulder blade. The bullet whizzed over Vi's head, sent the big woman reeling. She staggered back, clutched the arm as if she could feel the pain from the shot- an instinctive reaction, Caitlyn was sure, nothing more. Her dark eyes searched the area, briefly, then landed on Caitlyn, who adjusted her grip on the rifle and readied a second shot. The woman bolted like a fox, surprisingly quick for someone so large, and Caitlyn took her shot. It took her in the same shoulder, ricocheting off the metal plating. She ignored the walkway down, leaping the railing and landing, lightly, the three or so feet to the ground. She lifted the rifle again, fired a third time. A fourth. She moved closer to Vi with each step; like a dance.

Fire, step step.

Fire, step step.

Repeat until the prey vanished around the corner, running for its bolt hole. The dance carried her to where Vi had dragged herself to her knees, pressing "her" coat to the injury in her stomach. She was limply doubled over it, and she glanced up at Caitlyn, still panting softly. The fire and ferocity in her eyes was gone, leaving nothing but pain and bone-deep exhaustion.

From the blood running down her face and bruises, scrapes, and burns, there'd been a fight before this; she wasn't positive how serious the other injuries were, however. "Why did you let her go?" The tone was accusatory and sharp, despite the way her eyes couldn't quite focus. "Do you ever say thank you?" She replied, bemused. She'd just saved this little gremlin's life, and this was how she responded? "He's gonna know we're here now!" "Whose fault is that?" She folded the rifle, tucked it back into it's holster, and straightened her shirt. She wasn't the one that had ditched someone to go pick a bar fight like a drunken rebel-rouser. The eyes- grey, now, almost colorlessly so, lacking any of the cool blue tones they seemed to have if you looked just so- lowered, and she shrugged with a flippant, yeah, well sort of expression. Defensive. She knew she'd fucked up and she was hiding behind cool, aloof walls. Caitlyn frowned slightly as she took Vi in, watched rivulets of blood run down the arm not clutching the jacket to her injury, watched her twitch and twist with pain she was trying very hard to hide. Vi tried to pull a deep breath, but it hitched and was, in the end, just a shallow hiccup. "You're an alright shot." She drawled, lips twitching upward in a tired but honest smirk- a real compliment, with real teasing trying to spark a light in her eyes. It flickered, like a lighter trying to come to life in a wind storm, struggled to grow, and then died out again, replaced by the same bone-weariness, the pain, and something sad beyond speaking. Whatever the giantess had whispered to Vi, it had pulled the fight from her like draining her soul. All Caitlyn could do was try and give her the strength to rebuild it.

Well, that and find a way to tend to the gaping wound that had probably punctured her liver. "I'm an excellent shot." She retorted, playfully, as if she wasn't absolutely terrified. Vi was badly wounded, she wasn't certain were to go for help, she was well and truly out of her depth- but Vi needed her to be calm. Be strong. "You gonna help me out, Cupcake?" Slowly, slowly, the hand that wasn't stilling the bleeding lifted, asking for help. Offering a truce. She smiled a little, bending to clasp it in her own. It was a sharp contrast; Vi's hand, rough, bloodied, callused, and her own- smooth, soft, with it's manicured fingernails. Undercity. Top side. Their hands didn't go together, but they did- they complimented each other, fit each other, and the strength in both grips was equal.

"Stop calling me that. My name is Caitlyn."

She pulled Vi to her feet- the woman was heavy, solid, and it nearly toppled Caitlyn over, taken off guard as she was by the unexpected density of Vi. She looped the other woman's arm over her neck her own arm around Vi's waist. "But you're so sweet." Came the reply, and God, but if it didn't sound genuine. Honest. "Like a cupcake." She couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a fondness she didn't want and hadn't asked for rising in her chest like a comfortable, welcome, easy warmth. "Shut up." She replied, hearing the grin in her own voice. And, despite the pain, despite the fear, when she looked down at Vi, the pink haired woman was grinning back.

This was maybe the worst of it; what made that darkness in Vi so much worse, so much harder to look at. Because under it, hiding, too scared and too wounded to allow itself to be exposed, was this. Someone who was...so young. And so kind. And so honestly warm, and playful, and loving, and impish- she'd seen it. In bits and pieces, in tiny moments where Vi had forgotten herself, slipped, let Caitlyn see her underbelly. The worst of it, the very worst of it, was that she could get glimpses of the person Vi was under what the world forced her to be, and it was lovely. And only Vi, half dead and bleeding out, exhausted, clearly frightened, out of strength and energy- Vi, who grinned too hard and watched people like prey and a predator- Vi, who tried so, so hard to convince the world that she was made of steel and iron, hiding behind her hard walls- would throw her a cheeky, charming little wink.

[rdr2dd]

Finding Eliza (Pt. 3 / ??)

It’s been a while, but hopefully the progress has been worth the wait. I’ve posted previously about Eliza’s models and textures, but those things, viewed separately, can be a bit odd to look at. Unfortunately, Eliza was missing a bunch of model parts and textures; I had her head model without a face texture, her torso texture without a torso model, etc., not to mention the many, many parts that simply didn’t exist in the files at all. So, how does one assemble a woman from some hair, a face, shoes, and a necklace? Uh, improvise, I guess? I want to be totally clear on how I did that, though.

Improv. Point 1: Her Face

So, the model and ‘wrinkle’ mask for Eliza’s head exist in the files, but no actual color texture. This was obviously the biggest impediment in putting a face to her name- there was no face to be found! We do have her torso texture though, so we can make some pretty easy assumptions about the skin color and general complexion of the face texture she should have. I located the generic NPC face texture that matched her torso texture best in terms of color (essentially a perfect match, actually), and used this as a base for all of her features (shape, placement, shading, etc.). The NPC face texture, however, was very mottled and dirty, a stark contrast to the torso texture in Eliza’s files. To get the complexions to match up better, I used some additional NPC face textures, color-matched to her skin tone, and ‘clone-brushed’ in clearer spots, as well as some higher res details. All in all, her face is a mash-up of 3-5 faces, though it is still heavily based on that first ‘almost-perfect-match’ NPC face. Her eye texture is selected from the generic NPC eye colors, but simply a guess.

I also gave her some modeled eyebrows and eyelashes, as she just looked too smooth without them. Shamelessly plucked from other RDR2 models and shaped to fit her head model and new face texture.

Improv. Point 2: Her Hair

Eliza actually has two hair models in her files, but no texture in sight. This wasn’t hard to make, I simply took the base hair texture for character models in the game and color-shifted it until it seemed appropriate. Her hair color is entirely a guess, though I think it’s a reasonable one, based on her complexion, the eyebrow color of the NPC base face I used for her, and the appearance of the (presumed related) individual on her locket. I also had to go through and UV-map her hair models, as if the models had been made but never properly textured in the first place. Not terrible once I figured out what I was looking at, but this hair turned out far better, and thus it’s the one I used in this set of renders.

Improv. Point 3: Her Torso & Body

Nothing too exciting here. We have her torso texture, but as I said, no model. We also have no model or texture for her lower half. I just used a generic NPC lower half texture that matched her skin tone, no bells or whistles, and applied both her torso texture and the generic lower half texture to the generic female NPC upper & lower half models. Since her torso texture is original to her files, I’ve included a full (censored) pic of it applied to the model, below. Please excuse the ‘problem’ spots indicated by the arrows, just some rendering artifacts, not features lol. 

Improv. Point 4: Clothes

Lots of decisions made here on my part, seeing as the only clothing items we have for Eliza are her necklace (model and texture) and boots (just the model). 

The necklace went together as expected, though the UV-unwrapping for it is sort of odd. The boots, I found a boot texture in the files that matched the UV-map of her boot model, and I simply applied that.

Her blouse and skirt are entirely NPC-borrowed. We know very little about her, other than her having been a waitress, so I just picked something fairly generic which didn’t clash too much.

Other Notes

I want to get this content out there, but I also want to be super clear on where the canon file content stops and where my stopgap filler measures start; I hope my above explanations have been clear on that front, but if not, I 100% welcome questions. In the spirit of this total clarity, I also want to point out two additional factors at play in the renders you’re seeing. 

Subsurface Scattering - To make the character models appear more ‘fleshy’ and less plastic in the render engine, I’ve gone ahead and applied an effect known as subsurface scattering to them. It helps to make shadows on the skin appear more natural (see ‘flat-ish’ shading on left [no subsurf scattering] vs. shadows on the right [with subsurf scattering]), but it is unfortunately responsible for a fair bit of noise in the renders, as well as the tiniest bit of color shift. I’ve done what I can by simply upping the samples on my renders, the next step is to find a good denoiser that plays nice with Blender.

Lack of Comparison - Obviously when we see the RDR2 character in-game, they are effected by lighting, weather, and a number of factors. But we see them in multiple situations, and we usually see them with other characters. I can’t put Eliza into the game, so I did the next best thing and ripped a model of Arthur, using the same techniques and model/texture handling, so you could at least have a single point of comparison for how the lighting in my render is impacting the models and textures. They look very silly T-posing together, but it is what it is.

[kojinnie]

zeke yeager date night 👀👀👀

-Bo <3

[RE:] Kojinnie’s Milestone Celebration :: 24/7 Writing Event

Hi Bo! Thanks for the request! 😘💦

Urgh, sorry if this comes out too self-indulgent, I just couldn’t help it. I hate this man. I hope you’d enjoy it nonetheless!

18.00: Date night with them would include...

18.00 First of all, let’s make the line clear between us all: Zeke does not do romance and shit. He is a person whose self-assurance is over the roof; he believes to a great extent that he doesn’t need to put outlandish effort just to get a significant other. It’s not because he’s a bad guy per se who’d just use up his significant other, it’s just that he simply thinks the effort would be unnecessary if he could just pull out his usual stunt and get the outcome he desires.

Zeke is well aware of his charm, and date night with him would definitely include you trying your hardest not to squirm under his sly gaze at you. There would never be over-the-top candle-lit dinner at fancy restaurant when it comes to Zeke, since he values intimacy just for the two of you, instead of a posh display. When he asks you out, it would sound like an open-ended question, you couldn’t be sure whether he is actually asking you out or whether it was just a cheeky joke. You’d be sure of the latter, only for him to call you on Friday night, a casual tone with a tint of boredom in his voice, “So, when are you coming?” If it was another guy, you’d just laugh it off and ask for a reschedule, but with Zeke? You’d relinquish all self-restraint.

When you’re only just starting with him, expect a Friday night spent at his high-rise apartment overlooking the city. This man is definitely loaded and he wouldn’t be shy to flaunt his sophisticated apartment. Its dark marbles and high-end automated appliances – he didn’t spend a lot of money just to enjoy them himself. You’d be dressing up to the nines, expecting a proper dinner although only at his apartment. You’d be going through the crystal-decorated lobby of his apartment, and finally as you reached his floor, turning up at his penthouse, he’d greet you while only draped in his boxing robe, hiding his hairy bare chest underneath – a stark contrast to how you look. He wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, that was exactly his game – to make you feel tensed to his enjoyment, knowing that he always gets the upper-hand. He’d pretend to feel bad for being under-dressed, but would show no effort to go change.

He’d spoil you with fine-graded wine and expensive homecooked meal (yes, he’s a great cook). He’d occasionally mutter suggestive remarks that sends shivers down your neck (he’d stare at your dress from across the dining table and smirk, “Now I know why they’re called ‘plunging neckline’”), all while having his eyes on you throughout the night. Once you’re done with the dinner, he’d lead you to the living room where he displays all his vinyl collection. Zeke would be down on the game, that he’d already know what song to play to set the mood. While you have yourself amazed by the view of his home glimmering beneath the twinkling metropolitan city, he’d put up some Ella Fitzgerald, and it wouldn’t take long until you see him reflected by the glass window, standing behind you. Slowly, you’d feel the warmth precipitation of his breath grazing your exposed back and shoulder, as he slithers his coarse and rough hand through your waist and grazes his lips through your shoulder, humming Ella Fitzgerald’s song that immediately sends you drenching.  

[s4ijoh]

heaven is a place on earth. atsumu miya

ATSUMU MIYA X GN! READER

GENRE: domestic; slice of life; just a comfort piece

WORD COUNT: 1.6k+

WARNINGS: established relationship; mentions of stress; atsumu is a tease (yes, it deserves a warning), + heavy imagery, i enjoy setting the mood

coming home to atsumu after an exhausting day…

you are greeted with a welcoming warmth engulfing your body once you step into atsumu’s apartment. it is rather quiet inside, other than the static buzzing noise coming from the living room at the end of the corridor - you remember atsumu complaining about how the television signal gets worse on days like this.

the homely environment felt inside the dimly lit apartment instantly comforts you, providing you with a shelter from the hostile weather outside. the orange lighting creates a cozy atmosphere in stark contrast to grey sky outdoors, covered in a thick layer of clouds - a prevailing threat that it should start to rain at any moment.

while kicking off your shoes, after you’re done getting rid of the layers of clothing that were weighing on your body, you wonder if you should accept, at last, atsumu’s offer to move in with him. despite the fact that this place was not your actual house, it sure did feel like coming home whenever you walked in. it was, indeed, your safe haven, not only from the weather outside but from the world. as soon as you set a foot inside this place, all your concerns seem to be washed away.

you figured it must have been the weather to further instigate your current bad mood but you can’t put aside the thought that today, everything seems to be working against you and there is nothing more you crave than to sit in the comfort of atsumu’s presence and forget all about the trivial things plaguing your mind.

oddly enough, you are not greeted with his familiar face peeking through the door of the living room, his lips stretching into a beamy smile as he excitedly yells your name upon seeing you, as it is usual. however, although your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen, his presence is felt throughout the whole apartment.

the place is charged with traces of him - from the sweet but manly scent of his perfume lingering faintly in the air, to his keys with the small pendant you bought tossed carelessly next to a framed picture of the two of you, on top of the entry table as well as osamu’s coat that atsumu never returned because he claimed it suited him better anyway, hung on the doorknob of his room.

it is also hard not to notice the different pairs of slippers scattered along the wooden floor of the entry hall however, you have grown so familiar with the sight that you would have paid no mind to it if it weren’t for you tripping over one of the long forgotten pairs of fuzzy slippers. what otherwise would have looked like slouchiness only made the place feel more inviting. you have grown acquainted with the chaos, learned to embrace even, it’s familiarity never failed to put you at ease - in the end, everything was just on it’s right place.

atsumu is clumsier than he looks. he whined about how every new set of slippers he bought would go missing within a week, only for him to purchase a new set and for you to find the previous lost pair somewhere under a piece of furniture which resulted in the eclectic collection of slippers he owns to this day. 

walking across the hall, you come to a halt once you reach the living room, waiting for a frowning atsumu to notice you leaning against the doorway whilst he presses on the buttons of the tv remote in a frenzy on yet another hopeless attempt to get the television to miraculously start working - the “no signal” alert on the screen won’t disappear no matter how many times or how rough he hits the buttons on the remote, you have been over this many times with him.

“you never know” he would answer adamantly, with his brows raised in mock defiance. how naive, desperate times require desperate measures, you suppose.

a small giggle erupts from your chest capturing atsumu’s attention, his head snapping in your direction as his lips almost instantly stretch into bright smile - it was his body’s intuitive reaction whenever he laid eyes on you. atsumu calls out for you, dragging on the last syllable of your name in enthusiasm and you can’t help the grin, albeit weak, that crawls its way up to your lips. he could always steal a smile from you, no matter how tired you were.

upon noticing the clear exhaustion on your features, his broad smile morphs into a sympathetic pout as he tosses the remote on the cushions next to him, stretching his arms wide open for you, inviting you in with a quiet “get over here”

you drag yourself to the the checkered sofa where atsumu is sitting, awaiting you, to gladly accept his offer. and just like magnetic attraction, your body falls limp into his embrace, finding solace in his arms as you slump down on his lap with a relieved sob.

atsumu is left to deal with the dead weight of your body on top of him yet instead of complaining, he embraces you just tight enough to earn a quiet squeal from you, your head lifting itself from it’s comfortable spot snuggled against the warm skin of his neck only for you to shoot him a glare.

“where’s my kiss” atsumu taps his lips twice with his index finger to which you bend your head down to comply with his request.

honestly, how could you have forgotten. exhaustion really must have got the best of you because there was nothing more you had craved throughout the whole day than to feel his lips against yours, you could really use a kiss or two - or maybe a few - right now. however, you barely have the chance to connect your lips with his before atsumu is pinching your nose, prompting you to withdraw.

“your lips are freezing cold!” he whines in response to the inquisitive look on your face, his eyes wide in a rather theatrical manner. your boyfriend’s melodramatic behaviour has you rolling your eyes back in annoyance before you lean back in only for atsumu to cover your mouth with the palm of him hand.

“needy are we? rough day, pretty girl?” he teases with a taunting grin plastered on that frustratingly pretty face of his.

“go to hell, atsumu. just kiss me already” if only you weren’t this tired and atsumu wasn’t looking this tempting, maybe you could’ve kept the frustration from overflowing for you knew how he would pick on your helplessness only to keep teasing you and test the effect he had on you. and, you hate to admit that you have no restraint when it comes to him but, truth is, there is not much you can endure until you give in to atsumu and he manages to get you right where he wants you - you were always so pliant on his hands, he found it endearing to say the least.

trying your luck yet again, you hesitantly brush your lips against his, looking up at him through your lashes. you move carefully, almost as if you’re lurking on a prey, keeping a close watch on his face as you knew all it took was a false step for him to get away.

“you didn’t answer me” and just like that he pulls away from you, his voice cutting through the silence and ruining the mood, much to your dismay.

“yes, i had a rough day and you’re not making it any better, ‘tsumu” you spit the words out, although you reckon your tone was sorta harsh you are fuming at this point. on days like this, where it almost feels like it is your body’s basic need to feel him close to you, there is nothing you wouldn’t do for a kiss of his and he truly wasn’t helping you feel any better. two could play this game but you don’t even have the strength to put up a fight and taunt him back, wishing he would just give in to you as easily as you give in to him.

“so eager, i must be one hell of a kisser” he whispers against your lips. atsumu is having too much fun playing this little game of cat and mouse, repeatedly dodging your every move as you chase after his lips. if you didn't know any better, you would almost say it was taking every fiber on his being to hold himself back by the way he is ogling your lips.

“tell me, baby, do you want to feel my lips against yours that bad, hm?”

“yes, can you kiss me now?” your straightforwardness catches him off guard, earning a chuckle from your boyfriend as he tilts his head to kiss you on the cheek, dropping the act at last.

“no need to be mad, baby, patient girls get whatever they want” he grabs your cheeks, squishing them together and proceeds to place a quick peck on your pout before he slumps back against the couch, resting his arms over the lenght of the back of the couch.

“come get your kiss” he says in defiance with a wicked smirk which has you narrowing your eyes.

you lean forward cautiously, trying to understand what is the catch here, though he doesn’t even flinch when you crawl your way to wrap your arms around his neck. it is when you let your guard down, wearing the smile of victory as you lean in for a kiss that atsumu dodges you once again but he doesnt even give you time to complain before he is gripping your waist and tugging you into his chest before he crashes his lips into yours.

oh and was it worth the wait. atsumu could take you to heaven and beyond with just a simple innocent kiss. you feel like you’re soaring the sky and now you never want to come back down to earth ever again. you could argue that he is not perfect but, despite all his flaws, atsumu is still a true angel in disguise.

[a/n]: honestly i made atsumu’s character out to be messier than i imagine him to be but, i had this really cute picture in my head of a v v cozy house with lots of slippers scattered all over + had these flirty dialogue prompts written down & decided to put them together and thought atsumu fitted the role perfectly so yea!

this aint nothing special, just a good ol’ domestic au! but i hope you all enjoy what i have come up with after i’ve been neglecting writing for a whole month now <33

+ next batch is soulmate au! mattsun!!