#Tumblin Out

[meridianbarony]

😔 SO sorry tumblr, you are right- cold process soap IS INDEED mature content. One must be an adult or have adult supervision to handle lye and saponify oils.

[sun-marie]

I was looking through my blog and I realized I don't think I ever? actually posted my Azulow zine piece here? so. oops! 😅

But yeah, last year I had the pleasure to be part of this amazing Azulow zine, Pas de Deux, a digital zine dedicated to the FE Fates pairing Azura/Laslow, which is still available for download!

Please enjoy some Azulow Family fluff in this no-deeprealms AU <3

[winesoakedwool]

thinkin about critical role c3 culminating in the intermingling of three different groups of heroes from different generations representing a complex coalition of the divine, infernal, and apathetic coming together to combat a plot devised and carried out over a century, whose success or failure may take many forms, but all of which promise a new world order born out of the suffering of many

[that-thoughtful-waffle]

Ive been gone 7 months wdym I didn't miss anything

[singmetheblues]

Well, I rolled and I tumbled and cried the whole night long.

[number3]

Happy 3rd to whatever the fuck this was

what a week huh?

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[navybrat817]

In a Red Dress

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky has to debrief after a mission, so you decide to stop in for a visit. In a red dress.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Established relationship, explicit sexual content, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, flirting, teasing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Happy FriYAY! I started this in January for @tumblin-theworldaway and finally finished it today. Love you, Aqua! I hope you can relax soon. Could be considered a follow up to With a Bang. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your heels clicked along the floor as you left the elevator, reminding yourself for the umpteenth time that it wasn't Bucky’s fault that his team extended their mission for another day. Unforeseen circumstances were to blame, completely out of his control. You also couldn't hold it against him that he had to debrief after he messaged you that he arrived back home safely and unharmed. It was part of the job. Still, you missed him and wanted a bit of attention.

Which was why you showed up at S.H.I.E.L.D. in a silky red dress and Bucky’s dog tags under your coat. No bra, no panties. Which he realized when you walked into the conference room, unannounced, and removed your coat.

It was fun to put the fire in his steel eyes.

“Welcome home, Bucky,” you smiled as the room went silent. “Don’t mind me. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Your burly boyfriend was out of his seat and didn't tear his gaze away from you, the tension thick as you tossed the coat away. Today was a good day for your self confidence. You wore it like a second skin, feeling as beautiful on the outside as you did inside. You knew you looked good enough to eat and you wanted him to devour you.

And as much as you loved him in his black shirt and tactical pants, it hid the wall of muscle you wanted to trace with your hands and tongue.

“Hey, baby. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, his eyes dropping to your chest. Your nipples hardened against the fabric and you wished he’d latch his mouth to them. “And speaking of home, I thought I was going to meet you there.”

Your shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I got impatient since you were late. Plus I wanted to show you my dress,” you said, doing a happy twirl. It was reminiscent of New Years. The soft fabric hugged your body tight like your black dress did, but this one left little to the imagination. “What do you think?”

Steve, ever the good friend, averted his gaze, but a scowl crossed Bucky’s handsome face when you both realized that other agents looked your way. You hadn't expected to be the center of attention for anyone else, but it didn't matter to you if others looked. Why would you want them when Bucky had you under his spell?

At least they were smart enough to look away when Bucky’s metal hand clenched.

“Well? Do you like it? I thought the dog tags were a nice touch,” you added, running a finger along them when he remained silent. “They really do go well with everything.”

“Come here,” he said, beckoning you with a metal finger. You knew he meant business when he didn't use his dominant hand. “Now.”

You maintained an aura of innocence as you walked toward him, watching him his lips as your hips swayed.

“I can see your nipples through your dress,” he said low enough for just the two of you, but poor Steve with his enhanced hearing likely picked up on it. “And I’m pretty sure I didn’t give you permission to wear a dress like that in front of other guys.”

Any other guy who said that to you would've been smacked, but hearing it from him only made your eyes fill with amusement as you tilted your head. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to wear this, Sergeant.”

“Baby,” he whispered. You knew what calling him by his rank did to him.

“I should be able to wear what I want and when I want to. We both know that,” you continued, sliding your finger down his chest instead of poking it like he expected. “But you have my permission to break someone's fingers if they try to touch what belongs to you. Because I do belong to you.”

Your declaration fueled the fire within. There was no hesitation on your part. No doubt. And after being apart for a short time, you wanted him to hear you say you were his girl.

“Yeah, you do. You’re mine,” he said with a raspy touch of confidence that would’ve soaked your panties had you been wearing any. “And I’m all yours, but I still need to debrief.”

You huffed, but the conviction in his tone was admirable. “Fine. I’ll just wait here,” you said when he frowned. Both of you knew the classified information wasn’t meant for your ears, yet no one spoke up for you to leave. Were they afraid of pissing your boyfriend off? “You know, I really do love that grumpy look of yours. It gets me so wet.”

Bucky’s cheek twitched when one of the men coughed. “You're being a fucking tease.”

“Is it teasing if I let you have me?” You asked, tapping your chin. “Teasing you would be letting you go to bed with blue balls.”

Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and clutched the dog tags. He yanked on them hard enough to move you closer, his eyes not leaving yours when you gasped and shivered from the heat-filled look. You considered it a win that you didn’t collapse. Because he was going to destroy you and you’d love every second of it.

“Be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, baby,” he warned.

You smiled, more than ready to give him one more push. “I’m more interested in what’s supposed to go inside my mouth.”

His nostrils flared when you opened your mouth and showed him your tongue and throat. He put a hand on the back of your neck and tilted your head back, lightly nipping at your skin below your jaw. “I should put you on your knees and fuck your throat in front of everyone. Or put you over my knee and spank you ‘til you squirm. Show ‘em that you really are mine.”

You giggled, a soft and tempting sound. “Why fuck my throat when my pussy is nice and wet for you?”

“Gentlemen. I think the Bravo Conference Room is available. Let’s finish this up there,” Steve announced, his chair scraping against the floor and pulling you out of your spell. “Told you that you should’ve just gone home, jerk.”

“Fuck off, punk,” Bucky said, keeping a firm hand on you so you couldn’t look at any of the men filing out. The smirk he gave you was nothing short of predatory once the door clicked shut, leaving the two of you alone. “Since you need my cock so badly that you can’t wait until I get home, bend over that table and let me give it to you.”

Your giggle quickly died in your throat when you realized he was serious. “You’ve never fucked me in one of the debriefing rooms. Someone could walk in,” you reminded him.

Yeah, you showed up wearing what you did. Yeah, you teased him. But it was all in good fun. He wouldn’t actually fuck you on the table.

Right?

Your cheeks grew hot at the next words out of his mouth. “You think I give a shit about if someone walks in?”

He let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, carefully dragging you to the table. You loved every part of him, but something about his unashamed want of you made your heart soar. Maybe it was because of how much he healed and allowed himself to have a piece of happiness. That some part of him from his past, the man he used to be, surfaced and blended in with who he was now.

Heaven sent and survived the depths of Hell.

“Now, I should spank your ass raw for this little stunt you pulled. Letting them see you in this dress,” he said without any real threat behind his words. “But I won’t do that until we’re home.”

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes,” you smiled, expecting him to bend you over. But he brought a hand to your cheek instead. “Bucky?”

His gaze moved to your lips as he murmured, “Not fucking you until I kiss you.”

His mouth met yours not in a frenzy, but with a smile. The kind that told you how happy he was to be back with you. It wasn’t long before he shifted, the hand on your cheek slipping to your chin so he could deepen it. The soft slip of his tongue ignited your entire body, feeling his heart beat faster as you brought a hand to his chest. A reminder that he was alive, home, and loved you.

You loved him, too.

Your eyes stayed shut for a few seconds after he pulled away. “Missed you, Bucky,” you whispered.

“Missed you, too,” he said, his voice rougher than before. “Now bend over.”

The air rushed from your lungs at the switch from want to tenderness to need, your chest pressed against the table as he pushed your dress. Part of you wondered if he would’ve made good on his threat and fuck you in front of the other agents. He liked to toe the line of wanting to show others you were his and not wanting them to see intimate parts of you.

Which made you wonder what he’d do if someone walked in. He said he didn’t give a shit, but would he stop and try to cover your body with his own? Or would he keep fucking you?

You wouldn't mind either way.

“Spread ‘em,” he ordered, which you immediately obeyed. The low whistle made you shut your eyes before he dragged a finger along your exposed slit. “Didn’t even bother covering your pretty pussy with underwear. Probably best since you would’ve ruined them with how wet you are.”

“You’ve ruined all of my panties, Bucky,” you said, the distinct sound of his belt buckle and pants zipper making you moan. “And I’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“Yeah? Your pussy ready to stretch around my cock?” He asked, making you shriek when he unexpectedly brought his flesh hand down hard on your ass. He only used the metal when you were in real trouble. “You better not have fucked yourself with a toy before you got here.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t even touched myself,” you promised before he stretched over your back. “I just need you in me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And though you interrupted my debriefing and I may need to stab a teammate or two, you’re still my good girl. And good girls deserve rewards,” he growled in your ear, nipping it for good measure as you moaned. The head of his cock teased your entrance, your core clenching in anticipation. “I’ll fuck you and you’ll come all over me, just like you want and just like I need. And you’ll take it ‘til I’m done with you.”

You reveled in being his good girl, even when you were bad. How no one else could take his cock the way you could. How he made you soak your sheets day and night with your essence because being fucked by Bucky Barnes made you gush like a geyser. It was obscene.

“I’m your good girl and I’ll take everything you give me,” you said sweetly, knowing he’d fuck you whether you said it or not. “So let my pussy welcome your cock home, please?”

The soft kiss to your neck was almost like an apology before he pushed into you, both of you moaning. He’d check later to make sure you weren’t sore since he didn’t stretch you at all, but the slight ache when he bottomed out always bordered more on pleasure than pain. The overwhelming sensations of him inside you made your eyes roll back and he hadn’t even started thrusting.

“So fucking warm. And wet,” he grunted in your ear when he finally moved, his pants rubbing against your bare thighs. “Jesus fuck, you’re soaking me.”

Bucky robbed you of your breath when he leaned up and gripped your hips, hammering into you. You tried to grip the table, but all you could do was let him pull you back and forth. He was relentless like this, powerful, dominant. Making you take it, just like he said you would. Funny how minutes ago you were the one confidently teasing him and now you were a whining, needy mess. All because his cock shut your brain off.

You didn’t need to think like this anyway. You could be his doll, just for him to play with and love. In your pretty red dress or nothing at all.

“Harder, Sergeant,” you begged, your moans spurring him on.

“Not hard enough for you? Needy little thing,” he groaned, the sound of him burying himself inside you over and over echoing in your ears. “Missed this cunt. Missed you.”

Your pussy gripped him tight, the heady bliss making your vision blur. “Missed you. M… Missed your cock,” you slurred.

He chuckled, not slowing his pace as he leaned back down to tickle your cheek with his scruff. “So fucking cute when you get drunk on my cock.”

You wondered some days where he learned to talk dirty before you remembered that you had a large hand in that. He loved telling you how greedy your pussy made him. How he loved watching his spend slide out of you so he could fuck it back in. How he’s shocked some days that he can fit inside you, so he must’ve turned you into a perfect cocksleeve.

His cock made your mind numb, but your pussy made him run his mouth.

“Gonna make you sit on it when we get home. Fuck, gonna make you ruin the sheets when I fuck you into the mattress,” he rambled, making you moan louder. You didn’t care who heard. Let them hear what he did to you. What he turned you into: his needy slut. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” you moaned, his thrusts pushing your breasts harder against the table, your nipples hard and aching for him to touch them. He would later. You could wait. But you couldn’t wait to fall over the precipice. “‘M gonna come.”

“Do it. Won’t stop you,” he encouraged. He no doubt felt how close you were with how you clenched around him, your back starting to arch. “C’mon, baby. Come all over me.”

Your eyes fluttered as your body tensed, your walls pulsing around him your orgasm surged like a tidal wave. The ripples tore through you, ebbing and flowing as you moaned his name. If you could drown in pleasure, you’d want his name to be the last word that spilled from your lips.

“That’s my girl,” he praised as your limbs went lax.

You throbbed around him until he pulled out, making you whimper since he didn't come. You wanted him to finish inside you. He had you on your back with your legs spread wide before you could beg for it, keeping your dress up as he speared you once again. He thrust fast, needing his release just as badly as you needed yours.

“Need to see your face when you milk my cock,” he grunted, licking his thumb and bringing it to your clit. You whined, jerking underneath him as he rubbed the swollen nub. “Oh, stay still. You can give me one more.”

You almost denied him before you felt the coil tighten within you again. You never thought you could have back-to-back orgasms until you started sleeping with him. But it shouldn’t have surprised you. He played you like his favorite instrument and you were his good girl.

You could give him one more.

“Come with me,” you panted, staring into his darkened eyes as his face twisted in ecstasy only you could provide him. “Please.”

He couldn’t resist that last bit of begging.

The waves crashed again, adding to your first high, as his mouth opened in a groan, filling you in hot spurts. Watching him tip over the edge was a sight to behold, his cheeks tinged as his hips stilled and both of you tried to catch your breath. He laid across you after a moment, the weight of him making you sigh.

“Welcome back,” you smiled as your breathing evened out.

He stayed inside you as he brushed his lips against yours. You were going to make a mess all over the table when he pulled out, but it was worth any grief either of you got. “Good to be back,” he whispered, his hand on your cheek again in a tender display as his eyes scanned your face. “So beautiful.”

“Me fucked out or the dress?” You smiled.

“Both,” he smiled back, your face warm.

“Thank you,” you breathed, your heart still racing fast. You suddenly wished you were in bed so he could properly hold you. But he’d have you home soon enough for that. “Hope I didn't get you into any trouble,” you added. That was the last thing you wanted to do.

“Steve gets it,” he assured you, briefly closing his eyes when you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we got back late. He’s right. I should've just gone right home.”

Your heart clenched a little at that. Missions were important and not easy on either of you, but it was his job. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you made it home safely,” you said, arching your back. The table wasn't exactly comfortable, but you were too fucked out to care.

You also didn't want to be apart from him since he was back.

He wrapped an arm underneath you to ease some of your strain. “Still teased me by showing up like this. I might fuck your throat and put you over my knee tonight,” he groaned, squeezing a breast through your dress before he straightened out the dog tags. “But then I’m going to hold you after and not let go.”

You smiled, looking forward to it. “Yes, Sergeant.”

And you'd be sure to thank Steve later for clearing out the room so you could welcome your man home.

Nothing to see here, lovelies. Go about your business! Hehe. 😇 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[entertainment]

just tumblin' in with Dallas Liu and Ian Ousley to check out some Avatar: The Last Airbender fanart (and potentially inspire some new art??)

[gweelczz]

“Home to Her”

Bo Chow x Rosetta (Rose)

Genre: Slight angst if you squint, fluff

Warnings: mentions of religion and prayer

Summary: Rosetta gives Bo the silent treatment, he puts her in her place the only way he knows how. With love

The sun hung low over Clarksdale, brushing the dusty fields with gold as Bo Chow trudged up the front steps of their little wooden house, grocery sacks heavy in his hands. His sleeves were rolled up, dark with sweat and flour from a long day at the store. He kicked the door shut behind him and set the bags down with a low grunt.

“Rosie?” he called, his voice roughened from the day’s work but warm, just like always.

No answer.

He frowned, wiping his hands on his apron before untangling it from his waist. His boots thunked heavy on the floorboards as he made his way into the kitchen. There she was — Rosetta — sittin’ at the little round table, arms crossed, her beautiful face set like stone.

Bo paused. Took her in.

Her deep ebony skin caught the evening light just right, like the richest soil after rain. That great big afro of hers crowned her head like a halo, and those gold eyes, usually sparklin’ like God’s own stars, wouldn’t even lift to meet his. She was silent, lips pressed so tight they turned pale at the corners.

Bo narrowed his eyes.

“Rosetta Mae Chow,” he drawled slow, dropping his voice low and stern, the way that always got her attention. “Ain’t no wife o’ mine gonna sit there stewin’ like that. Not ‘fore even tellin’ me what’s wrong.”

Still she said nothin’, just squeezed her arms tighter around herself like she was holdin’ somethin’ in too big to carry.

He moved — one long stride, two — then he was standin’ over her, broad arms crossed now, jaw tight.

“You fixin’ to give me the silent treatment in my own house, Rosie? After I done worked sunup to sundown to bring you home what you needed?”

Her chin wobbled. Not much — just a little. But Bo caught it. He always caught every little thing about her.

“Now,” he said, voice softenin’, “you look at me, Rose. Right now.”

Slowly, like the weight of it hurt her, Rosetta lifted her head. Those gold eyes, glassy with unshed tears, finally met his.

Bo felt like he’d been shot through the heart.

He dropped to his knees right there, on the hardwood floor. Cupped her hands in his big calloused ones.

“Talk to me, baby,” he said low, thumb strokin’ the back of her hand. “Tell me what’s hurtin’ that pretty soul o’ yours.”

For a second, she tried to hold it in, tried to be strong — but it broke. A tear slipped down her cheek, catchin’ on the mole under her left eye.

“I don’t…” she choked out, her voice small, tremblin’. “I don’t deserve you, Bo.”

He blinked. “What kinda foolishness you talkin’?”

“I’m serious,” she said, the words tumblin’ out now like water outta a busted pipe. “You coulda had anybody… some fine, proper woman who don’t got a big mouth, who don’t sit around talkin’ to spirits and burnin’ herbs like some old witch… You deserve better than me.”

Bo stared at her, stunned. His Rosetta — the strongest woman he’d ever known — really believed that nonsense?

He gathered her hands tighter in his, holdin’ on like she was the only thing tetherin’ him to earth.

“Listen to me,” he said, voice droppin’ so low it rumbled in his chest. “Ain’t another soul on this earth — white, black, yellow, or otherwise — who could do what you do for me.”

Rosetta sniffled, lookin’ down, but Bo gently tapped her chin up.

“You hear me, baby. Ain’t nobody pray over me every mornin’ and night. Ain’t nobody stand at the crossroads at three a.m. beggin’ the Lord and all the good spirits to keep me safe.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, lettin’ her feel the heat of him, the truth of his words.

“You made me that mojo bag I keep on me day and night. I done made it through knife fights, sickness, angry drunk men in that store, and I ain’t never once been touched ’cause you put your love and your faith into that thing.”

Her tears were flowin’ now, but Bo just wiped them away with his thumb, patient and gentle.

“You think some ‘proper woman’ would do that?” he asked, voice a little rough. “You think some ‘fine’ lady from up Jackson way would even know how to love me the way you do?”

He leaned back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“I ain’t just loved by you, Rosetta. I’m protected by you. Watched over by you. Blessed by you.”

He kissed the palm of her hand, right over the lifeline, like he could kiss away all her hurt.

“I’m here. Still breathin’. Still buildin’ our life together ’cause God and your ancestors and you made sure o’ it.”

Her chest hitched with a sob, and Bo pulled her into his arms, holdin’ her tight against him.

“You the best thing that ever happened to me, Rosie,” he whispered against her hair. “I don’t want nobody else. Ain’t even a thought in my head.”

She clutched him back like she was scared he’d slip away, but Bo just held her stronger, rockin’ her slow in the middle of the kitchen.

“I love you,” she breathed, voice breakin’.

Bo smiled against her temple. “I know, baby. And I love you. Always have. Always will. From the first time I seen you dancin’ barefoot in that cotton field, laughin’ like you ain’t got a care in the world.”

He pulled back, thumbin’ away the last of her tears.

“You mine, Rosetta. God made you for me, and He don’t make mistakes.”

She gave a watery laugh, small and sweet, and Bo took her face in both hands, kissin’ her deep and long, like he had all the time in the world to show her just how much he meant every word.

When they finally pulled apart, Rosetta leaned her forehead against his, breathin’ him in.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Bo chuckled low, the sound like warm thunder.

“You don’t gotta thank me for tellin’ the truth, baby. Come on now. Let’s get supper goin’. I ain’t lettin’ my wife cry no more tonight.”

She laughed again, stronger this time, and Bo helped her to her feet like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched.

And maybe she was

Bo helped Rosetta into the kitchen like she might break if he wasn’t careful, though they both knew she was tougher than most men he’d ever met. He moved easy, puttin’ the groceries away while she bustled about, lightin’ the little oil lamp over the stove, hummin’ under her breath now — some old tune her mama must’ve taught her.

The smell of fresh cornbread and stewed greens filled the house before long. Bo set the table while Rosetta stirred the pot, her gold eyes flickerin’ back to him now and then, full of a tenderness so thick it near choked him.

After supper — plates cleared and bellies full — Bo washed up while Rosetta wiped down the counter, their movements easy, natural, like a river flowin’ back into its bed after a storm.

The Mississippi night settled in outside, all crickets and warm, heavy air.

Bo sat at the edge of their bed, pullin’ off his boots, when he felt her come up behind him — all soft and sure, the way she always was. He looked up just as she set a hand on his shoulder.

“You ready, Bo?” she asked, her voice low and thick with somethin’ sacred.

He nodded. Didn’t matter how tired he was — he always wanted her prayers.

Rosetta moved in front of him, her beautiful hands pressin’ to either side of his face. Her thumbs brushed along his cheekbones, and Bo closed his eyes, leanin’ into her touch.

She started prayin’, her voice like a balm:

“Lord, I thank You for this man. For his heart, his strength, his spirit. I ask You and all my ancestors, the ones who walked before us, to keep him safe — to guide his feet, steady his hands, sharpen his mind.”

Bo breathed deep, lettin’ her words sink into him.

“Cover him with Your protection. Cloak him in Your love. Let no evil touch him, no hate prosper against him. May the road rise to meet him, and may he always find his way home to me.”

A long silence filled the room after she finished, thick with holy power.

Bo opened his eyes to find her starin’ at him, all soft and shining.

Without a word, Rosetta helped him shrug off his shirt, kissin’ his shoulders as she went. He climbed into bed, and she followed, pullin’ him into her arms like he was hers to shield.

Bo curled against her chest, breathin’ in her scent — warm earth and sage and the sweetness of baked apples from supper. She combed her fingers through his hair, murmurin’ soft nonsense words only meant for his ears.

He couldn’t help himself. He started kissin’ her face — her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, the soft patch of skin by her jawline — over and over, like he was tryin’ to memorize every inch of her.

Rosetta laughed quietly, holdin’ him tighter.

“Ain’t never gon’ stop lovin’ you,” Bo mumbled against her skin, kissin’ the mole under her eye like it was a sacred mark.

“I know, baby,” she whispered back, rockin’ him slow. “I know.”

Outside, the Delta night hummed on — but inside their little house, wrapped up in Rosetta’s arms, Bo Chow drifted off to sleep with a heart fuller than any man had a right to carry.

[jobean12-blog]

https://www.tumblr.com/mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler/764923950712143872

Miss Jo! Pretty please can we have something with Javi or Marcus or Joel based on this post? With a cherry on top? Kthxbye!!! 🩷😘

Worth the Wait

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Since the moment you and Marcus have met it's been charged and when you finally get the chance to act on it, it explodes.

Author's Note: This isn't necessarily part of my usual Marcus and princess/wife reader story. This is just what I want. HAHA! And when @tumblin-theworldaway shared the incredible photo below with me and then @blackwidownat2814 shared this incredible post with me, I knew I had to do something because I literally cannot with this man. Anyway, thank you to my dear friends mentioned above for sharing and thirsting with me, I love and appreciate you and thank you all for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: there is definite softness, lots of tension, it's hot and heavy and they can't get enough of each other smut- all of it. He's so yummy I might die.

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

His skin is on fire.

You can feel your pulse in your throat as you stare.

It’s hard to breathe. To think.

He looks up and down the length of your body, your perfection reflected in the heat shining in his eyes.

There’s no sound other than the mix of your heavy breathing and then he steps closer.

The heat of his body so close to yours makes your voice come out thick. “General.”

Just the sound of the accolade on your lips tips him into desperate hunger.

A long stretch of silence passes where he just looks at you, staring, eyes fixed on yours. But it’s not static. It’s a transition in his expression from unbridled desire to sincerity, and it steals your breath.

“Are you hard General?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

A gasp catches in his throat, and he swallows.

“Are you wet?” he counters.

A small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth and your attention shifts to his lips. It’s intentional, the way your eyes take forever as you look at his nose, his cheeks and then his lips again.

“Are you thinking of kissing me?” you ask him.

He stares right back at your mouth.

You lean in and press your lips to his warm, soft, and then you suck before a gentle bite, one that makes a rough growl roll up his throat.

He stretches forward and his large palms cup your face. Your hands fist into the lush fabric of his tunic and the kiss turns explosive.

The feel of his hands, his lips…you perceive it in every part of you and you want him to devour you.

As if sensing your urgency, he pulls back and takes your hand, gently tugging you away from hidden shadows and toward his chambers.

He watches as you walk over to his bed and slowly unravel the toga from your body. It slides off your skin, revealing your nakedness inch by inch.

His expression is full of awe, and he waits only a moment, savoring the sight of you, before he moves with slow but purposeful steps until his chest brushes yours with his ragged breathing.

Your name is an urgent whisper on his lips, and you reach up to carefully pull his cloak free of his broad shoulders. Piece by piece you undress him, your hands sure and deliberate but still trembling with the feel of his warm skin beneath your fingers.

Your fingertips trace the outline of his face, the rough hair that lines his jaw, the angle and slope of his nose, and the soft plushness of his lips. You stretch into him, pressing your bare chest to his, and he lets out a shaking groan, sliding his hand down your side to grasp your hip.

He lays you on his bed and settles between your legs, taking your knee and pulling your leg over his hip.

You can feel him against you, rigid and hot.

“Are you sure?” he whispers.

“It’s all I want Marcus.”

His mouth drops to your collarbone, tracing the delicate outline, then your neck, where his lips play along your skin as they move upwards toward your chin. He nibbles lightly then soothes the spot with his tongue.

Your head cranes back with a silent plea for more and he gives it to you. The scratch of his beard ignites your skin, and the softness of his lips relieves it as he sweeps his mouth over your jaw to nibble your chin again, a hot trail of lips and teeth.

“Gods woman…”

He cuts himself off when his mouth finds yours already open and searching for his. You grip the back of his neck, urging him to kiss you harder, to touch you.

The sound you make when his thumb slides across your nipple is nearly one of pain and he does it again, and again, in small, pressing circles.

Your heart pounds beneath his hand as he holds you there for his mouth and bends, sucking wetly, biting sharply, and his hips press forward and back, pushing himself right up against your clit until you’re scratching at his shoulders trying to get his weight to push you into the soft cushions, push your legs apart, push into you.

You let your hand slip between your bodies, grasping at his silken skin, and stroke him. He begins to move forward and back, lips distracted and hungry over yours.

You’ve spent weeks with him, stealing glances and staring, soft touches when no one is looking, dreaming about what’s beneath his robes; the slowest most torturous foreplay, and there’s a fever under your skin that makes you impatient.

And he’s unable to remain still over you, stubbly jaw razing across your sensitive nipples as he kisses down your ribs. He fumbles between you, his fingers sliding lower and easily into you. His thumb grazes your clit over and over and you’re so swollen, desperate, and pushing up off the bed so he can reach deeper with his long, thick fingers.

His cock brushes against your thigh and then his hand disappears and he’s there, closer, and with a small, synchronized gasps he’s pushing forward and sliding into you.

“Oh Gods,” he says. And “fuck me,”

It turns into a frenzy. He’s moving. Not just moving but absolutely fucking you. So deep. In and out, groaning into your neck.

He plants his knees into the mattress and moves, there is nothing but the sound in the darkness around you; the iron railings of the bed creaking in protest and his grunting and moaning as he fucks you, fast and messy.

His calloused fingertips slip over your chin and mouth, and he follows with his tongue and teeth. Your hands are everywhere, his chest, his hips, his stomach.

The words that start to slide from your parted lips are cut off by pleasure. You’re begging with unintelligible sounds for him to keep doing whatever he’s doing that’s so good. You’re screaming under him, his rhythm frantic through your release and you’re amazed at how he looks, moving over you.

You’ve seen him stand tall and strong over everyone else in the room, seen his face light and careless with a laugh crinkling the corners of his eyes, and seen his rath, expression hard and face bloodied from battle.

But you’ve never seen him like this. Naked, damp with sweat, with his hands propped beside your neck as he stares down the length of your bodies, watching himself. Arms flexed, lip caught between his teeth, relishing the sight of him slipping in and out of you.

“I can’t,” he murmurs. “I can’t stop looking at you.”

He bends, his curls falling over his face and brushing your forehead. His mouth moves to yours and then down, sucking at your jaw while his hips slow to a gentle rock but still he pushes so deep.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asks. “Wanted you?”

You smile into his neck before kissing it gently.

“For as long as I have,” you admit. “From the moment we first saw each other.”

He grabs your hip, holding you in place and kissing your shoulder, his lips moving up your neck, to your ear. “Since that moment, yes. But I think even before that…”

He begins to move harder, in earnest, with firm hands and the deep shove of his body in yours and his unapologetically wild mouth.

Every thrust pulls a hoarse grunt from his throat, and he tilts your hips, greedy for more, while his fingers slip between you to rub. You can tell he knows how close you are when he pulls back to watch, his eyes so close to yours, teeth pressed to your jaw as he growls out tiny sounds of encouragement.

You close your eyes under the weight of your orgasm, but he bites down on your chin, hissing a low warning, “open,” and grabbing your ass to pull you harder against him.

Your release explodes around him, and he gasps your name, hips faltering and then gaining speed before he grunts into your neck and you feel him shake over you, pushing deep and spilling inside you.

His breath is warm and rapid against your neck, his hand sliding up over your breast and down your waist, along the curve of your hip, your thigh, and back again, over, and over.

He meets your gaze and kisses you once, softly, before pulling out. You watch as he grabs a cloth by the beside and cleans you, his touch gentle, even though there’s so much man to his movements, to him; the shadow of hair below his navel, the muscular line of his shoulders and the way his large hands slide down over your stomach and between your legs before he lays back down next to you.

You love the possessive flat plane of his palm, the confident command of his fingers when he touches you.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs into your neck.

“I’m more than,” you answer, trembling under his light caresses.

He nods and kisses your collarbone, lightly tracing a trail of kisses up your neck. He lingers at your chin, and you feel him smile into your skin.

“What?” you ask, feeling your own smile grow.

“I left marks,” he nearly growls, his cock already an urgent presence against your thigh again, heavy and pressing.

Already, again, it feels feral, grabbing and biting. He flips you onto your stomach, sliding his cock between your legs as he sucks on the back of your shoulder. His touch is frantic but somehow assured. There’s no ‘can I?.’ No ‘do you want.’

He lifts your hips, thighs bracketing yours, and pushes back into you, groaning at the warmth, the softness, and the view he has from behind you.

Your sounds are wild and desperate, and his hands are curled tightly around your hips.

It’s too much.

You need more.

“It’s too good,” he grates out. “You are perfection.”

His hips circle, tender then brutal, making you cry out before he hits deep, and you clench around him. He comes again, the curls that frame his forehead sticking to the drops of sweat.

He falls heavily over you, but quickly wraps you up in his arms and turns you both over, tucking himself behind you.

His lips press to your neck, voice thick with sleep and emotion.

“The day has been long, and my body craves sleep but nothing more than you. I don’t know how long I can rest knowing you’re here. In my bed.”

You hum in agreement, smiling into the corded muscles of the arm he’s tucked under your neck and wrapped around you.

“I’ll wake wanting more,” he whispers, partly rueful and partly in warning.

“And I will always give it you.” You mutter the words before your eyes close and your breathing steadies in rhythm with his.

[zaldritzosrose]

Favourite Sin (Adar x High Princess!Reader)

Summary: You were a prize and then some. The High King's sister, one of few whose disappearance should cause him the most anguish. Taking you hadn't been easy, but making you his willing wife was set to be even more of a challenge, it seemed. But maybe you were a little more willing than he anticipated?

This is a present for my dearest @tumblin-theworldaway, hope you enjoy! (And we will get the hang of this timezone bullshit 😂)

TW: She/Her pronouns, afab reader, elven reader, hinted at having similar colouring to (show version) Gil Galad, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of (mostly) forced marriage, hints at dub con (reader not fully embracing her willingness with Adar), female masturbation, mentions of voyeurism (Adar overhears reader), oral (fem receiving), p in v sex, Adar being a tease, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 5750 (I know, but the muse hath taken me)

Holding Gil Galad’s sister captive, the High Princess of the Ñoldor, was a prize and more for Adar and his children. Though bringing you to Mordor had not been an easy task, it was necessary to make the weight of Adar’s power known. To bring attention to the fact that the Uruk were not a threat to be taken lightly and ignored.

Taking you had required planning, the kind of subterfuge that the Uruk were not particularly adept at.

But it had been managed. And now the princess was within the boundaries of Mordor, secured inside the Uruk camp. Though your title was rendered more than useless now.

You were sure word had made it to your brother. Or at least, you hoped it had. Taking you would mean war; you were sure of that.

And yet nothing had come.

The camp stretched for what felt like half of the Southlands. Or should you call it Mordor now? The shadowed lands seemed endless when you were stuck in the middle of them.

You felt alone, despite being surrounded by crowds of Uruk.

Some looked at you in fascination, like you were a new shiny treasure. Some looked at you as if you were a deer, lost in the darkness of a forest. The rest refused to so much as look at you.

Adar, however, never kept you out of his sight. Not that you could escape, but you imagined it wasn’t to prevent such a thing. His children obeyed him, but you could feel an almost protective edge to how he would keep you near.

There was an unspoken edge to how he handled you, as though there was something you were yet to learn.

But that knowledge came soon enough.

“Marry you!?” you almost screeched the words at Adar, forgetting that he was likely the only person keeping you safe and well.

His quarters were quiet. The table set for a dinner neither of you had eaten. But your voice almost echoed against the wooden walls.

He expected to make you his wife? The idea baffled you entirely, but it was like you could no longer form the right words to express yourself.

Adar remained quiet. He had expected a less than positive reaction from you. But he had his reasons for making such a proposition, and for telling you about it first.

“Yes, marriage,” Adar said simply, his fork stabbed into the meat on his plate and abandoned.

“For a good reason, princess, you will be safer within these borders as my wife.”

There were more reasons, of course, but he was of no mind to reveal them to you. Yet.

You leaned back in your chair, a small scoff leaving your lips.

“Safe? You wish me to believe you are concerned for my safety?” you spat the words with a little more aggression than you realised you were capable of.

And it only made Adar smile.

“I told you my plans out of kindness. I was not asking your permission.”

That had been a month ago now. A month that you had been Adar’s wife and the new Lady of Mordor. And he hadn’t been wrong regarding your safety. It had taken time and some less than gentle encouragement from your new husband, but the Uruk had come to regard you with less resentment than before.

Some even looked at you with something that might resemble kindness.

Even Adar seemed to have changed. Not in how he acted when you were around his children, but when you were alone.

Your wedding night had been as expected. Adar made as much effort as he could to make you comfortable, and you had put in as much effort to enjoy it as he had expected.

The wedding had been nothing extravagant; you were not sure if it was even legally binding. Not that it mattered. You were a captive, no matter whether you were called wife or prisoner, nothing would change.

But now, as you sat stock still on Adar’s bed, you felt afraid for the first time. Not of Adar, he had given you no reason to fear him. But of what this night would mean.

Of what it would mean to give away the last thing that was solely yours.

You held the fabric of your gown between your hands, worrying the fabric again and again with your fingers.

And it was this that Adar noticed.

“There is nothing to fear,” he said softly, the low gravel of his voice feeling so loud in the silence of his quarters.

Your fingers slowed their movements, but didn’t stop. Why should you believe him? He was your captor, since you were not yet ready to think the word husband.

Yet, he hadn’t done you any harm up until now. Even if he’d had the opportunity to. Maybe, he was being sincere?

You didn’t say a word as you stood, not trusting the strength of your voice. You focused instead on the way Adar stood still in front of you. How he looked so different without the layers of armour and leather. How the few candles around the room lit him from behind as he watched you back, waiting for you to approach.

The small amount of jewellery you had been wearing when you were taken to Mordor had been shed, along with the outer layer of your gown, just after you entered Adar’s quarters. The thin shift doing little to protect you from both Adar’s gaze and the cool air.

Avoiding it would only last for so long. Trying to delay the inevitable was impossible, you thought.

And the longer you looked at him, the more you had to ignore the faintest spark of desire in your belly. He was a handsome man, once you truly appreciated him.

But if you had looked a little harder, you would have seen the same lust filled look in Adar’s own eyes. Darkening even further the closer you came. His breath caught in his throat when your hands came to rest on his chest.

“I will do my duty as your wife; it is our wedding night.”

That night continued to play in your mind. Even weeks after the fact.

You were a wife now and Adar had not been wrong, the energy had begun to shift towards you. Whether Adar had told his children to treat you with more respect, you didn’t know, but there was certainly a difference.

Those who refused to look at you, now spared you the occasional glance. Those who had looked at you with prey, would sometimes even greet you as you passed them.

But something else had settled into the back of your mind. You had felt it on your wedding night, and all the subsequent nights you had spent in Adar’s bed.

The lingering feelings of desire whenever Adar would touch you. The sounds of pleasure you would bite back because you were afraid of the feelings you had.

He was your captor turned husband. You should despise him.

It was the lack of that which you feared. Did you love him? No. But there was a fire that burned in your belly whenever he touched you, even for the most fleeting of moments.

Whether Adar knew or not, you didn’t dare find out.

War was looming with the rumours of Sauron’s return, and you had soon come to realise that your brother’s focus was going to be elsewhere. And as much as that pained you, you knew Gil Galad knew that you were capable enough to handle yourself wherever you were.

But the lingering threat of darkness had meant Adar was away from Mordor a little more than he had been. He would leave some of his children behind, a silent gift of protection for you.

Though you preferred the comfort of your own quarters. Adar had offered them to you about a week into being his wife. Before that you had been in a small tent, just in sight of his own quarters.

While most of the Uruk banded together and slept in a mixture of tents and wooden shacks, Adar had a large wooden building in the centre of camp. His throne outside it and even a separate room where you would assume he would host guests if he ever had them.

Yours were smaller, but with enough space for it to be clear you were no longer a prisoner. There was a separate bedroom, a small snug with some furs and fire pit for your comfort. And those small things were welcome whenever he would leave.

This time Adar had been gone for a few weeks. The longest he had been gone since your marriage to him and though you chastised yourself for it, you had begun to miss him.

Not necessarily his person, but what him being here meant. Physically.

If Adar was anything to you, he was attentive. Dare you even say, gentle. Like he was afraid if he did anything more, you would run from him in disgust or fear.

But you never did.

And now, you found yourself missing those nights.

You had put that feeling to the back of your mind. Trying to focus yourself on literally anything else. But then you would lay in your bed and your mind would drift there.

And soon your hand would follow. Letting the images that would float in your imagination guide you. It began to happen every night without fail. It was almost like you couldn’t sleep without putting out the fire in your veins.

Picturing how Adar would touch you, the way his hands would feel against your skin. How warm he always seemed to be; how soft his lips were…

No word had come of where Adar was or when he would be returning, but the Uruk that remained in camp had been on edge all day. Just like they had been for the last week.

You were on an edge, though without a doubt it was an entirely different one.

The night soon drew in, a few of the Uruk coming to check on you after you had eaten with them which you more than appreciated.

But then you were alone again, and it wasn’t long before your thoughts began to wander.

You waited until you could no longer hear much noise outside of your door, meaning most of the Uruk had gone to their own beds or were far enough away that you could let your hands wander too.

Images of Adar immediately filled your mind, the rough sound of his voice felt almost real you had imagined it so many times now.

Your shift was bunched in your hand, the other making its path down your body to seek out your core.

The room was always warm, the fire pit constantly stoked at your request. But your skin prickled as your fingers began to dip between your folds. A small sigh leaving your lips as you finally made the contact you had been desperate for all day.

Your movements remained slow. In the weeks he had been gone, you had begun to try and imitate Adar’s touch. He was never in a rush, like he was mapping out every dip and swell of your body and committing to his memory.

But trying to mimic that had taken weeks. Only now did it feel almost right. Your hands were too soft, but it was close enough.

You would try and remember the way he would start, where he would touch first. One hand between your thighs and one hand always mapping the rest of your body.

So that’s what you did. Your fingers made slow circles on your pearl, working the fire in your belly higher and higher. Your other hand pushing your shift higher, not enough to make you bare, not yet.

The sighs turned to soft moans, barely audible, letting the images of Adar flow through your mind.

The muscles of his chest and back when he would hover over you, one hand by your face while the other would continue its path along your body.

How his breath would feel on your neck as he began to press kisses to your skin. The barely there sounds that would leave his throat the more of you he got to feel.

You worked yourself up to a point that you were almost desperate to find release, your hips actively chasing your own hand. The shift almost torn from your body as the room seemed to get warmer and warmer.

Everything around you faded as you began to focus on the desire that thrummed in your veins, surrendering yourself to it. Your fingers finally slipping between your folds and trying to remember the rhythms Adar would strum.

It was so dark when Adar returned. Most of the Uruk were already fast asleep, or at least away in their tents. He assumed you would be too, and his feet began making their way to your quarters before he could stop them.

His hand was on the door when soft sounds floated through the small cracks in the wood. Sounds that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but pleasure.

Far louder than he was sure he had ever heard you be. Far louder than you had ever been with him.

He waited, as quiet as he could. Just to hear a little more. The cracks in the door wide enough to sneak the smallest of peeks at you. He could see you bare, spread out on the furs of your bed. One had between your thighs, the other gripping the plump flesh of your breast in the same rhythm as your fingers.

Adar was sure he could smell your arousal from here.

He was completely entranced, lost in the way your body writhed on the bed. How your voice seemed to be going up octave after octave as your peak crept up on you. And then, something he never thought he would hear from you, especially like this.

His name.

“Adar…” you breathed out, and your husband could only watch as the muscles of your thighs twitched, hips canting up against your hand until you finally stilled.

You had said his name. His name. Bare, glistening with sweat as your peak had crashed over you, you had said his name.

Adar ignored the way his length twitched in his breeches at the thought. He could wait. But he wasn’t going to forget just how pretty you sounded.

He only wondered if he could make you louder.

You awoke that morning to hear the Uruk calling Adar’s name, nothing but happiness in their voices.

He was home.

You forgot yourself for just a moment in your excitement at having him back. It surprised you. You were at the threshold of your door when it hit you. Taking a deep breath before stepping outside.

Adar was at his throne, his children that had remained behind clamouring around him. But his eyes found you immediately. If you hadn’t been concentrating on maintaining your usual, passive mask, you would have noticed how he looked at you.

Like he wanted to devour you where you stood.

“Husband,” you said gently, the crowd of Uruk parting as you walked towards his throne.

Adar stood immediately, but he didn’t move towards. But a smile did twitch at his lips.

“Wife,” he answered, finally descending the few steps of his throne to meet you.

You saw a flash of something behind his eyes, but you chalked it up to your imagination. He had been gone for a while, maybe you simply missed him. But when he held his hand out to you, your skin meeting his for the first time in weeks, you could feel that same feeling stirring deep in your body.

Desire. Everything you had tried to tamper down, to hide, threatened to spill from you after one touch.

Adar could only smile as he saw the way you swallowed, how your eyes remained trained on his hand.

“Are you well?” he asked quietly, daring to stroke a soft circle on the back of your hand with his thumb.

He needed to see. Was your desire for him reserved for when you were alone, or could he push you enough to let it slip through the cracks?

The rest of the day passed no differently to how it usually did. Adar checking up on the children he had left behind while he was away and you spending your time doing anything you enjoyed. Walking around the camp was a new pastime, giving you a break from the walls of your quarters.

What you didn’t know, was that Adar watched you almost the entire time. Keeping his eyes on you whenever and however he could. He was the most distracted he had ever been since he married you, willing night to fall so he could end his duties and summon you to his bed.

He knew it would raise suspicions with you if he changed his routine and took you to his bed early. It was an unintentional routine, but something you had welcomed.

What he didn’t know, was you were wishing he would do just that. You could go to him yourself but, outside of your own bed, you were warring with your desire for him and your need to keep it hidden away.

Dinners had been eaten, and Mordor had darkened as whatever sun filtered in finally dipped below the horizon. You were in your quarters, savouring the bath that you had treated yourself to, when you could hear a soft rapping on the makeshift door.

You recognised the footsteps almost immediately.

On instinct, you moved to cover yourself. Leaning against the side of the tub – or what was essentially a patchworked together replica of such a thing, at the insistence of Adar for your comfort. It felt ridiculous to hide yourself from your husband, but it was as though there were two paths urging you in your mind.

Resist or surrender.

“Forgive the intrusion,” Adar said softly, stopping a few paces from you.

You couldn’t stop your smile. You were not sure when it had happened, but you had found yourself relaxing around him in the simplest of ways. Which made how you felt deep down all the harder to reconcile.

“No intrusion, you are my husband.”

Adar only grumbled out a sound of approval. He realised; however, he hadn’t truly thought much past entering your quarters.

“But the fact you are here is an unusual occurrence. Is everything well?”

Your evenings were usually spent in Adar’s chambers and subsequently his bed. To have him in yours surprised you. The look he gave you, only served to confuse you more.

“Nothing is amiss, I assure you,” Adar hadn’t moved from where he stood, but his eyes were travelling over your form.

You simply hummed, realising you were not going to get a straight answer from him.

The bath water had begun to cool, and you leaned over the side to grab the wide sheet of linen to dry yourself. As smoothly as you could, you held it high to wrap it around yourself as quickly as possible.

What you did not expect was for Adar’s hands to grasp its edge and hold it for you. Just high enough to cover your body, but his proximity had you freezing for just a moment.

“Thank you, Adar.”

You missed the darkening of his eyes as you said his name, stepping from the tub and letting him hand you the linen.

His hands momentarily touched your back as you turned to wrap it around you, and you tried to hide the shiver that ran through you. Images from the nights spent alone flashing in your mind at just one touch.

The silence in the room was almost deafening. It was almost as though both of you had something to say, but neither knew the other did.

You began to move away to dress, unsure what else to do, when Adar seemed to come back to himself and stop you.

His hands returned to your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. You couldn’t see his smirk as your body stiffened and then relaxed immediately at his touch. Your eyes fluttering closed as his hands tightened on your shoulders.

“I thought of you, whilst I was away,” he said simply, his hands trailing down your arms.

It wasn’t unusual for him to admit things like that, but there was something behind his words that felt different. Adar leaned in, whispering into your ear.

“Did you think of me?”

The growl behind his voice seemed more intense this close, the fire rising gently in your belly.

You wanted to answer, admit that you had thought of him on so many occasions. But it was like your words stuck in your throat.

A thought crossed your mind, did he know? No, he couldn’t possibly. But there was almost a knowing tone to his voice.

His hands stroked up and down your arms, patiently waiting for whatever answer you would give.

“Does your silence mean you did? I was gone a while, leaving you alone and unattended to…”

Adar smiled as he pressed a kiss to the skin behind your ear. His expression widening as he felt your head fall back just a little.

He could feel you fighting it, still trying to deny what you felt for him. So, he continued, bringing your back flush against his chest. Hands moving from your arms to the wrap of your linen.

Your skin was still warmed from the bath, and you could feel the hard plane of his chest through the dark fabric of his shirt. Adar never wore his armour, including his gauntlet, when you and he were alone.

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth as he began to unwrap your linen, slowly baring your body to the coolness of your quarters. The sheet falling to the ground as his hands took their time roaming your soft flesh.

“Shall I attend to you now, wife?”

Not trusting your words, you nodded, and Adar could feel the temperature of your skin rising. Your head fell fully back on to his shoulder, so close to surrendering to your feelings.

Adar’s hands were in no rush. It was as though he was recommitting every part of you to memory. Maybe, he truly had missed you while he was gone?

It was only when his fingers skimmed low enough to tease at your pearl did you let out a sigh of pleasure. The sound bringing Adar back to his true aim for coming to you tonight.

He let a single finger circle you, tantalisingly slow. Teasing you and himself.

His other hand cupped your breast, kneading the soft mound under his palm. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t quite enough to pull those sounds from the night before out of you. But there was more than enough time for that.

It wasn’t as though he was unaffected, his own arousal pushing insistently against your back.

He was so focused on the feel of you beneath his hands that he almost missed the small whisper that slipped from you. It was only when his hands slowed, did he realise you had asked for something. Your hand wrapped around his wrist. Almost begging for him to move faster.

“Please…”

You were just loud enough for him to hear this time, the breathy sound of your voice sending a shot of desire straight to his already hard length.

That was enough to have him lead you towards your bed. A gentle push had you laying down, and all you could do was watch as Adar made quick work of his tunic.

More of your daydreams flashed before your eyes, realising your imagination had never quite matched up to the real thing. Pale, scarred flesh covered just enough muscle to remind you of the strength he held.

You rested yourself on your elbows. There was just a little something different about Adar tonight. Not that he was never gentle, but he seemed to be working with a purpose in mind more so than usual.

The bed dipped as he joined you, stopping to push your legs open and kneel between them.

“Please what, hmm?” he asked, large hands squeezing your thighs.

There was no doubt he had a purpose. You had seen that look before, but when he was focused on battle strategies, not your pleasure.

You let out a small breath, preparing yourself to give in just a little more to your desire for him.

“I need you, husband.”

Adar let out a soft grunt of approval at those words. Watching as your hand reached out for him.

If there was one thing you hadn’t expected to imagine when you were alone, it was his kisses. They were few and far between, but you realised how much you enjoyed them when you were left with only your mind’s eye.

He let you wait, just a moment longer, before crawling the rest of the way up and hovering his lips over yours. Your hand finally able to curl around the back of his neck. Adar let you pull him down, your kiss a lot hungrier than he expected it to be.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers toying the black strands at the base of his neck.

One of Adar’s hands remained on your thigh, hooking it up and over his waist. Your hand tightened on his neck as you felt his arousal press against your bare core, your hips rolling up on instinct.

“Patience, darling…” he whispered, breaking the kiss for just a moment.

He wanted you to ease into what he knew you felt. There was little hiding your desire for him now. You just needed to let yourself admit it.

Adar returned to the kiss, pulling back some of his control as his tongue slipped into your mouth. Your fingers entirely tangled in his hair as he won the battle of your kiss.

He didn’t stop your body arching against him. Soft skin against his scarred flesh only spurring him on.

His kiss moved from your lips to your neck, letting his hips begin to match your rhythm. You were still holding back, but he could hear how your breath sped up and the subtlest of moans were slipping from your lips.

The path of his lips continued down, between the valley of your breasts and lower. Mapping every inch of you with a kiss.

“What did you imagine while I was gone? How I touch you, how I kiss you…?” he murmured against your skin.

Your hand returned to his hair as he kissed the inside of your thighs. Holding them apart enough to settle his head between them.

He knew, he had to. If you had been less distracted, you would have tried to deny. But you were at the point of desperation. Weeks of only your own hand to bring you satisfaction. If you just gave in…

“All of it,” you sighed, trying in vain to push his head closer to where you wanted him.

But Adar didn’t move. He wasn’t going to let you off quite that easy.

His kisses moved higher, just shy of where you wanted him to be.

Your eyes closed, taking a small breath and answering.

“I...I imagined how your hands feel on me, how your lips feel on me…”

Adar rewarded you with a long, slow swipe of his tongue between your folds. Pulling a slightly louder moan from you.

He wondered if you would admit just a little bit more.

“And?” he asked again, his breath hot against your skin.

He could feel you tense a little in frustration, but he could feel how close you were to giving in.

“I imagined how satisfied you leave me.”

That was more than expected. Admitting your desire was enough, but to admit you found satisfaction with him? That was even better.

You were rewarded again with a more insistent lap to your cunt, his face burying a little further down. Your hand in his hair trying desperately to hold him where he was.

“Then I shall ensure I make up for all the satisfaction I have left you without these past weeks,” he promised, before delving in with full fervour.

There was little gentleness now. Adar almost devoured you with every swipe and circle of his tongue. It appeared you weren’t the only one who had suffered whilst you were apart.

Your nails scratched at his scalp, earning your growls of pleasure against your core. The vibrations combined with the way the tip of his tongue now circled your swollen bud had your eyes rolling back in your head.

Yet you still hadn’t let out any sounds close to what he had heard from you the night before.

Adar lifted your legs onto his shoulders, arms wrapped around your thighs as he doubled down on his ministrations. Suckling your pearl until you let out a soft sigh of his name.

Almost there, he thought. But maybe you needed just a little more encouragement.

He replaced his tongue with his fingers, keeping the same rhythm as he peppered kisses over the skin of your inner thigh.

The way your walls were already clenching around him was a sure sign you were close. But he needed to hear you, good and loud.

“As delicious as ever…but I know you can be louder than that, sweet wife?”

His fingers curled inside you as he moved to hover over you, his lips returning to your neck.

He had heard you. You knew it. Before tonight, you would have been embarrassed, even denied it. But instead, the burning desire inside seemed to roar higher. He wanted you to be loud. There was no denying the hungry sound to his voice now.

“Adar…” you groaned out, his fingers almost beckoning your release closer.

Your husband smiled into your neck, the twitch in his cock reminding him just how good his name sounded on your tongue.

“Again. Say my name again.”

His fingers began to piston in and out of you, the wet sounds of your pleasure mixing in with your growing moans and sighs.

You didn’t hold back anymore. Letting your body relax and pleasure take over.

Over and over again you moaned his name, his lips latched onto your throat as your peak washed over you.

Adar let his hips grind themselves against your thigh as he felt the slick sensation of your release gush over his hand. Something in him told him you could give him just a little more.

Your hands got to his breeches first. Tugging at the laces in your desperate need to remove all the barriers between you. Gone was the fear of revealing your desire to him. You needed him to know how much you wanted him. How much you were sure you had for a long time.

He was quick to kick the rest of his clothing away, caring little for where they landed. All that mattered was having you beneath him.

His cock slid in with ease, the lingering spasms of your release made his eyes close for just a moment. Savouring the sensation. His face burying itself back into your neck, smiling again as your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Do you think you can be louder still? As loud as you were last night?”

Your heels at his back urged him to move. And he did, slowly pushing in and out while he waited for your answer.

But what he got was not what he expected.

“My fingers are nothing compared to you. I think you can make me much louder.”

Now that was a challenge he wished to meet.

Adar planted a hand beside your head. The other holding one of your thighs tight as he began to speed up his rhythm. Your back arched immediately from the bed. Your fingers were nothing compared to any part of him. Reaching far deeper than you ever could.

The bed creaked beneath you as Adar pounded into you, his own grunts and groans of pleasure almost lost in the sweet cries that came from you.

Desire burned through him just at the sound, but the way your cunt was already tightening around him had him at his edge faster than he may ever have been.

“Come for me, let me hear you chant my name…” he almost purred into your ear, his voice strained as he held back his own end as long as he could.

Your hands grasped at his shoulders, committing all the sensations to memory, should you ever be left alone again.

“Adar!”

His name came out as the most delicious cry, your nails digging into his shoulders as your second release crashed over you. Your eyes scrunched closed in pleasure as Adar buried his face into your shoulder. His own end painting your walls as he groaned out your name.

A few shallow thrusts came as he slowed himself down, letting your thighs down to the bed. Softer kisses planted over your neck and chest had a small smile on your lips.

Gently, Adar rolled to your side, both of you ignoring everything except the closeness of the other.

Your head rested on his chest, feeling the race of his heart that you were sure matched yours. The atmosphere in the room felt different than it usually did. Softer, more romantic in the strangest of ways.

Adar’s hand rubbed up and down your back, lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. You both remained silent for a while, until you rolled over to look at him.

Up close, you were reminded of more than just your desire. This was your husband, and you had truly never appreciated his beauty. Scars and all.

“I should never have hidden such desire from you, I realise that now,” you admitted, your chin leaning against his chest.

Adar looked at you and just smiled. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you up high enough for a kiss.

“It matters not, we have all the time to take full advantage of it.”

His words made your stomach flutter. If tonight was just the start, you could only imagine what future nights would bring.

Maybe marrying the father of orcs wouldn’t be so bad after all?

TRoP Taglist:

@tumblin-theworldaway @kaelatargaryen @valar-did-me-wrong

@stardustcasey @itwillbeourswansong @xximmortalkissxx

@varda-star-queen @iwanderbecauseimlost

@eowyn7023 @whenimaunicorn @zoya-olenko

If you want to be added/deleted, please let me know.

[crimsonvictory]

inspired by this

part I.

your eyes grow wide in shock. mouth gaping like a fish gasping for air. unsure on what to say. the rumble of the train has you scramblin’ for words. tears prickin’ in your eyes as fear settles back in. you tremble as you accept your fate, burnin’ sun hot on your clammy skin.

the jingle of spurs has your head shootin’ up again. movement so fast you crick your neck. the cowboy saunters toward you, boots kickin’ up dirt as he squats down by your feet. he keeps his head bowed, large hands reaching into leather, pullin’ out a small knife. he flips it open, the metal glintin’ in the summer sun.

a few sawing motions and your legs are free. you shake out your ankle, rollin’ the sore joint. your arms are still pinned behind your back, rope rubbin’ your wrists raw. you squirm, antsy as the rumblin’ of the train jars your teeth.

“please hurry, sir,” you plead.

he chuckles, a huff of a breath before flippin’ you on your side, gaining access to your tied hands. the ropes twist behind your back, painfully pulling taught for a moment. a second later they’re released, slack loosening as he pulls you up in just a few moments to spare.

the cowboy grabs you by your upper arm, yankin’ hard to pull you away from the rollin’ locomotive. the steam blasts hot against your back, sending you both tumbling in the dirt. you yelp, numb hands tryin’ to find purchase as the blood slowly returns to them. the motion knocks his hat loose, brim pushing down even further over his face as you both land with a thud.

the expanse of his body absorbs both of your fall, a soft grunt leavin’ his lips. your face smooshes into the breast pocket of his shirt, arms squished between your breasts. his arm reaches out lightning fast, securing around your waist to keep you from tumblin’ any further.

once you gain your bearings, you apologize profusely. you lean up on your elbows, tryin’ to put some distance between the two of you. his arm doesn’t move, a vice around your lower back.

“my goodness! i am so sorry-“ you start.

he shushes you, breath heavin’ for a few moments before a laugh has his chest shaking.

“y’alright, poppet.” he grunts. “most excitin’ part of my day.”

you blush, heat floodin’ your pretty cheeks. the two of you lay there for a moment, chests risin’ and fallin’ with your breaths. a frown forms on your face, worry etchin’ into your eyebrows.

“how can i repay you?” you ask, slowly sitting up and back on your calves.

the cowboy leans up on an elbow, dark suit now covered in fine dust. he pushes his hat back on his head, revealin’ his dark eyes. they stay locked on you, gaze unwaverin’. he doesn’t answer, makin’ you feel a bit awkward.

“i-i don’t have any money at the moment, but i can get it for you! if you take me to my house i’ll get you all sorted out,” you explain.

he’s quiet for a few moments before responding,

“I can set with that.”

the ride back was quiet, you sitting side saddle behind him. Your fingers grip into the leather, keeping yourself steady as his horse carries you back into town. You tap his shoulder to point to your house, a shiver runnin’ down your spine at the thought of going back inside.

your lip quivers as you slide down the large horse, feet planting on the ground to steady yourself. your front door is wide open, exactly how it was left before the incident. you slowly walk up your wooden steps, shoulders drawn tight with worry. a soft thud behind you alerts you of the cowboy. he’s behind you in a few wide steps, the warmth of his body leeching into your back.

he follows you inside, quiet as he takes in the state of your house. you flitter around, tryin’ to find anything to give him to repay of his good deed. tears fill your eyes - frustration takin’ over. everything of value you had was gone. you feel your knees wobble, a gut punch of realization sitting deep within.

“mister i promise i can pay you back,” you sniffle, lookin’ at him through teary eyes. “i just want to acknowledge the corn. i was robbed this mornin’.”

“figured, everythin’ lookin’ like a bag a nails,” he grumbled.

his voice wasn’t angry. just matter of fact. your shoulders dropped a bit, a slight surge of relief causin’ them to relax.

“i could draw you a bath?” you offer, “fix supper in the meantime?”

he nods curtly. a smile forms on your face and you run to get the bath started.

he’s in there for awhile. but you don’t mind. a man kind enough to get you off those tracks was a good man in your mind. something about him intrigued you. the mystery behind his makeshift mask, you wondered if he was handsome. he was plenty nice, unlike many in this town. unlike tommy and art. bastards. they were long gone by now, deed and family fortune in their grimy hands.

it makes you angry, bubblin’ up and into your actions as you chop up the rest of your vegetables to throw into soup you were fixin’. despite it bein’ blistering hot this afternoon, with the sun down it was quite chilly. a cool breeze spiraled in through your open kitchen window.

you keep yourself busy with dinner, tryin’ not to let your thoughts drift to the mysterious cowboy upstairs. what he looked like, how broad his chest was, how large his hands were…

you had offered to wash his clothes for him, beatin’ the dirt out of the fabric before handwashin’ them with your homemade soap. his clothes were on the line dryin’ - should be ready by morning.

“smells good.”

you nearly jump out of your skin, hand flyin’ up to clutch at your chest as your heart thumps. he’s standing there in your kitchen doorway, large frame squeezin’ inbetween the two pieces of framing. he’s in his underclothes, a black shirt and undergarment. they do little to hide just how big he is. in honesty - they accentuate the curve of his muscles. large arms crossed over his chest, biceps bulging even at rest. scars litter his skin, some new, some old. a conglomerate of stories you probably would never know. still has his handkerchief on, but has changed it out for a clean one. this one is a thin black fabric. his hat rests on the arm of your kitchen chair.

without his hat, you notice his hair, slicked back from the bath. an unruly piece curls down in the front over his forehead. it’s a bit longer, curlin’ around the back of his neck as well. his thighs are large - almost like tree trunks. his undergarments squeeze around them deliciously. you try not to look at him too much, but can’t help glancing over his soft bulge.

“scared me!” you squeak out after a few moments.

a huff of a laugh again and a squeak of the chair slidin’ against the floor. it creaks under his weight. you’re in silence again for a few moments. the table’s set already, a glass of milk, cornbread and eatin’ irons placed carefully.

“just waitin’ on the stew,” you call over your shoulder.

he hums softly, relaxin’ back in the chair, crossin’ his ankles. you’re tired. the events of the day finally catching up with you as you lean against the counter. you were at sea. not even sure where to even start with this situation. how were you going to get your deed back? your belongings?

you had cleaned up the best you could while tendin’ to dinner. there wasn’t much to. everything stolen or broken. you run your fingers through your hair, pushin’ it back from your face as you ladle the stew into a large bowl for the cowboy.

you set it down in front of him before ploppin’ down across the table. he digs in immediately, eatin’ with the voracity of a wild animal. he’s cleaned his plate before you even cracked into your cornbread.

“there’s plenty more,” you say, nibblin’ on the sweet bread.

he gets up, pushin’ the chair back before helpin’ himself to seconds. and then thirds. a small smile forms on your face, pleased you were able to fill someone’s belly.

“absolutely delicious. can’t tell ya the last time i had a meal like tha,” he compliments.

your cheeks flush again at the praise. but guilt pangs at your gut.

“wasn’t much,” you mumble. “i’ll get you your repayment.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it.”

your eyes shoot up to his covered face, his eyes not as sharp as earlier, lids heavy from the food.

“i can’t not repay you,” you argue softly.

he hums then, eyes crinklin’ near the edges. a mysterious glint in them now.

“‘ve got somethin’ in mind.”

part 3?

[sammy8d257]

"There's a room where the light won't find you, Holding hands while the walls come tumblin' down, When you do I'll be right behind you

So glad we've almost made it, So sad they had to fade it,

Everybody Wants to Rule the World~"

-Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears

And here it is! The long awaited AvA "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" MAP is complete!

I can't believe it's out for everyone to watch. It was such a delight to work with everyone on this project and I can't even begin to imagine how excited everyone is to finally see the results of all their hard work!

40 parts with 35 participants! And you know what? Everyone absolutely kicked it out of the park

Please take the time you check out everyone's credits below and give them your support!

In a separate post I'll share the MAP Call image, the Thumbnail, and the Credits image without their words because I think they make great backgrounds!

And I hope you enjoy this crowning MAP!

Credits (Check out the Video Description for Full Credit Links!):

Intro & Part 23: Sammy8D257 (yours truly)

Part 1: Pegg @sticksfight

Part 2 & 20: Mary @mary-games-and-arts

Part 3 & 13: NivousNiv @nzn43

Part 4: Rubtix @rubtix-a-betz

Part 5: zkylearnstherope @zkylearnstherope

Part 6: AveryBug [Youtube]

Part 7: Whirld @whirld-of-color

Part 8: Sticky @sticks-without-stones

Part 9 & 25: Vita1/Galactic Bastard [Youtube]

Part 10: Wildcrest [Youtube]

Part 11: Eclipnet @eclipnet

Part 12: Urantum [Youtube]

Part 14: Danrishy @danrishy-ava

Part 15: Marsh @marshmallowart

Part 16: Lara Prisma @lara-prisma-avm-ask-blog

Part 17: Jack What-Stasis @what-stasis

Part 18: KikoQueenoftheRats @kikoqueenofrats

Part 19: dazeyyt [Youtube]

Part 21 & 33: Maechery @maechery

Part 22: Ghosty [Youtube]

Part 24: Reptilia @reptilia0freptiles

Part 26: FireflyFlareNight @fireflyflarenight

Part 27: Ella @ellathebirb

Part 28: Celentinel [Youtube]

Part 29: Ravienski [Youtube]

Part 30: Wxlfy @wolfydoesstuff

Part 31: Oaks @veryoaki

Part 32: Sabre @sabretoothedhorse @ohhhsosleepy

Part 34: Flanik @flanik

Part 35: Theo/Purple @cindersnows

Part 36: Yumesz [carrd]

Part 37: Jadeactuallysucks @jadeactuallysucks

Part 38: Storge @storgicdealer

Outro: Allu @allunary (w/ bkgs help from NivousNiv)

Thumbnail Credits:

Victim: NivousNiv

Purple: Maechery

King: Lara Prisma

Dark: FireflyFlareNight

Background: Sammy8D257

[cera-writes]

How about Nightcrawler falling for Remy's honorary sibling?

Moonlight Sonata

Pairing: Kurt Wagner x gn!reader Tags: fluff, humor, flirting, baking, slight competition, developing feelings

The scent of fresh pastries mingled in the air, a peculiar scent that had become strangely comforting to Kurt Wagner.

He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching you knead dough with surprising finesse for someone who could lift a priceless artifact from a guarded vault without breaking a sweat. You hadn't even noticed him yet. You were in your own little world it seemed.

Gambit, ever the charmer, had introduced you to the X-Men as a "distant cousin" from New Orleans with a knack for "acquiring rare finds." Professor X, ever the pragmatist, saw the potential in your unique ability to manipulate probability, making you an invaluable asset for training the team. But over time, Kurt had discovered you were more than just a valuable asset.

You possessed a dry wit that rivaled Logan's, a fierce protectiveness that mirrored Ororo's, and a surprising talent for pastry. Your μπεκλαβές (mezeklaves), a flaky Greek cheese pie, had become a favorite amongst the X-Men, even the health-conscious ones (though they wouldn't admit it).

Tonight, however, the kitchen was empty except for you. Kurt, ever the teleporter with a conscience, decided to make his presence known with a gentle, "Guten Abend."

You whirled around, a dusting of flour on your cheek, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Kurt! Ya scared the bejeezus outta me." Your voice was laced with an accent similar to Gambit's, which Kurt found endearing.

Kurt chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to emanate from the shadows themselves. "Apologies, Meine Freund. I did not mean to startle you." He bamfed beside you, the brimstone scent that clung to him momentarily overwhelmed by the aroma of butter and sugar.

"No harm done," you said, patting some flour off your apron. "Just surprised to see you here. Thought you preferred the… darker corners."

"There is a certain charm to moonlight," Kurt admitted, "but the company is even more delightful."

Your smile faltered slightly, a flicker of surprise in your eyes. "Are you… complimentin' me, fuzzy elf?"

"Only stating a fact," Kurt replied, his own blue fur dusting a faint pink. "You bring a certain… warmth to the kitchen. A welcome change from the usual… chaos."

Your smile returned, wider this time. "Well, someone has to keep Remy in line," you said, a playful jab at your honorary brother. "Though between you and me, I'm the better cook. Jus' don't tell him that."

Their conversation flowed easily, filled with shared stories and laughter. As the night deepened, Kurt found himself lingering longer, captivated by the way your mischievous glint sort of mirrored Remy's in your eyes. When you finally stretched, a hint of weariness in your movements, Kurt surprised himself by blurting out, "Perhaps you would… care to join me for a walk… under the actual moonlight, I mean."

You raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Just the moonlight, huh, Kurt? No shadows, no surprise teleports to some forgotten realm?"

Kurt felt a familiar warmth creep up his neck. "Only… pleasant company, my friend. I assure you."

You considered him for a moment, then a slow smile spread across your face. "Alright, Kurt. But if you try anythin', I won't hesitate to manipulate the odds and send you tumblin' into a vat of flour."

A teasing glint flickered in your eyes, and Kurt couldn't help but grin back. "A vat of flour, you say? Sounds like a messy proposition. Perhaps a stroll on the balcony would be a safer choice?" He gestured towards the large glass doors leading outside, moonlight already casting an ethereal glow on the patio furniture.

You dusted a stray bit of flour off your shoulder, your gaze lingering on him for a beat longer than necessary. "Maybe you're right, fuzzy elf. Sides, I wouldn't want to risk ruinin' these." You gestured towards a fragrant pan of pastries cooling on the counter. "Remy's been braggin' about my skills to Stormy all week. Gotta keep up appearances, right?"

Kurt chuckled, a warmth blooming in his chest. "Storm wouldn't dare challenge your culinary prowess, even with Remy vouching for her. But perhaps I could offer a different kind of challenge on our walk?"

You quirked an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your voice. "Oh yeah? And what kind of challenge might that be, Nightcrawler?"

Kurt leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "How about a test of your probability manipulation skills? We could see who can find the most… interesting object under the moonlight."

A slow smile spread across your face, the mischievous glint in your eyes mirroring his own. "Now that's a challenge I can get behind. Just don't come cryin' to me if you end up teleporting into the Danger Room by accident."

Kurt threw his head back and laughed, the sound echoing through the quiet kitchen. "Never underestimate Kurt Wagner, Schatz. Let's just say, I have a certain… affinity for finding unexpected things."

With a playful wink, you grabbed a clean dish towel and wiped your hands. "Alright then, furball. Lead the way. But be warned, I have a knack for finding trouble… and sometimes, trouble finds me."

Kurt offered you his arm, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "Then perhaps tonight, trouble will find something delightful instead."

Together, you stepped out onto the moonlit balcony, the promise of a playful competition and a blossoming connection hanging heavy in the cool night air.

[humidcitrusgrove]

Okay...

as it says in the description.

Yesterday, I got up did some Tumblin with my account @steamedtangerine (a seven and a half yo. account)-many of them vintage scans of architecture (one was an upbeat Peanuts comic). I went to work, came home tired after 10p. (EST), and tried to log-in upstairs with difficulties. When I hand typed the log-in, I got smacked with a big notice saying my account was terminated. I checked my email and saw no notice saying what this was about or any explanation as to why this occurred. In fact, the last notice was a new follow (many of them lately have been blanks or underdeveloped garbage with no activity in over four months with other redflags present) close to 6pm. So, somehow in that four hour period, I was axed.

Was this a glitch? Was it an AI matter? Was it a hack (if so, who posted what under my name to hurt me?)? Was it a brigaded attempt to take my account down? Did I block too many accounts? Did I report too many of the shady pornbots who had crappy video links to sites other than those like Chaturbate or Onlyfans?

I have sent in a request into the matter and I have made a post on Reddit about it. I am now using this new alt-account (never thought I'd ever have to make one of these) to reach out to other accounts to do me a big, solid favor. Some time back, accounts like @nemfrog and @moviesludge had been arbitrarily removed. I sent out DMs to other accounts that had supported these accounts in the past, and they reached out (along with me) to contact staff and support to examine and re-instate those accounts (I think I did with @nemfrog)-which, luckily, worked.

I am asking accounts like @mortifiedandawesome , @feed-the-crows , @moviesludge , @7wo7rees , @nycewell , @obviouswar , @memory-thought , @peculiarist , @vor765wm , @bitter1stuff , @donnerpartyofone , @nemfrog , @baskiet , @wee-toe , @hirokuthegoblin , @maa-pix , @donecant , @candont , @instamatik , @thatsbelievable , @lesser-known-composers , @brunothegrape , @roguetelemetry , @ursaminorjim , @eternalistic , @hokeoutsider (no I haven't forgotten about you), @artoftcbaldwin , @slcr303 , @ceevee5 , @beelzebunny (you-uh-still alive there? Kind of miss ya!) @snappingthewalls, @contac, @multifacetedwitch , @spockvarietyhour , @cosmicretreat , @fatmagic , @motherpussbucket , @gameraboy2 -and so, so , so many others (I'm sorry If I've forgotten, my head has been pounding heavily for hours lately) to just take ten minutes out of their time to send staff and support a message requesting they look into and examine closely my account steamedtangerine and please reconsider the termination so that my account will be restored whole and full.

I promise if restored I will (probably) be better, nicer to new accounts and lighter on the block button (maybe-unless this termination is a fine example of why I should do it more), and stop theorized too much about future conspiracies by shady imperialist sickf!cks (well...we'll see about that).

So, if you can stomach a few more years (months!? -sadly I heard the CEO of WP has been acting-well, he's been acting a little funny in the head lately) of me posting ugly gifs, outdated vintage imagery, cheap smut, old pics of Detroit art, and political bluster, then just do me this big favor to push for me to be restored (do an internet seance if you have to just to resurrect this ghost blog) and get steamedtangerine back up and running.