#brilliant idea Grace

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on María Álvarez from the film María, llena eres de gracia. There is a dull red border around the piece. Maria's face is only visible in a small square near the left corner of the border, looking off to the side with her hair messily drooping onto her face. Her mouth is open to show a sliver of her teeth, but her expression is unclear. This square is situated above a drawing of Mary - mother of God - but the angle is off and the elements don't align perfectly. Mary - who has a hand placed over her heart - is drawn with a blue, hooded robe atop a long-sleeved red shirt with a gold trim. She's wearing a doubled-up pearl necklace, which resembles the halo that is around both of their heads. This halo is made up of white, wrapped-up pellets of drugs. The background for Mary is a blue colour while María's is purple. On the border, the phrase "nombres/given name" (which is usually present on Colombian passports) is written, and below the border, in a larger text, it says "llena eres de gracia". The lineart is a thin, invariable, and dark blue.]

Inktober - Day 7 (Passport)

Film - María, llena eres de gracia (Joshua Marston, 2004)

[corrodedcoughin]

So I know the internet is obsessed with babygirl Steve but I've been thinking about the opposite lately? About how Eddie would love how manly and strong and boyish Steve is. Especially after that scene in the Upside Down where Eddie is casually fawning over sweaty and dirty shirtless Steve ripping demobats apart with his bare hands. They're both gross teenage boys and Eddie likes it.

Eddie loves Steve's 5 o'clock shadow, dreams of feeling the scratch of it on his skin, the burn of it as Steve kisses his way down his body.

Dustin still keeps telling Steve he needs to tame his chest hair, shear it down a bit. Steve always refuses because the "ladies dig it" and Eddie can't help but agree that the boys dig it too. He definitely doesn't want to run his fingers through it, tangle his fingers in the strands and feel the warmth of Steves skin underneath.

Eddie loves Steve's strong jaw and broad shoulders. Thick thighs and muscled biceps. Every now and then Steve will wake up early for a jog and at the end, jog his way over to the trailer park. And Eddie gets to watch him with his hair pushed out of his face, unstyled and sweaty but still looking good. Shirt sticking to his torso with sweat. It's so gross but so good. They'll sit on the porch together, Steve drinking water; with Eddie next to him wrapped in a blanket, half asleep, drinking coffee, and thinking about how fucking good Steve looks.

He even likes how Steve will eat a bagel and get crumbs all over his kitchen floor, and then snap at Dustin for even /thinking/ about opening a packet of Doritos in his car because he will get crumbs in the seats. And the Beemer is his baby.

Idk I've just always liked the idea that Steve genuinely likes cars? We all saw him with the Toddfather. And his beemer!!! This stereotypical manly interest that he might have gotten into originally when he was little because it was something he thought his dad would like, but it turns out he actually genuinely likes. Steve will happily spend a Saturday morning washing and waxing his car. Vacuuming the carpet and cleaning the seats. And after all that he'll pop the hood and tinker with the engine. Checking the oil and other car things. And Eddie finds himself noticing the grease and oil under his fingernails that he couldn't quite remove.

And then there's the little things. How Steve will throw something into the rubbish bin or his laundry basket like a basketball from across the room. How he will yell at the TV when watching sports and the ref makes a stupid call. His dumb locker room talk with Robin where they talk about hot girls together, which is endearing as hell because he can see how much it means to Robin to be able to talk like a regular teen about hot celebs and pretty classmates.

Idk I'm just having fun thinking of Eddie fawning over how manly and hot he finds Steve. You just know he's talked about it to the Corroded Coffin boys and they just "can't relate but we'll take your word for it" Because they love and support Eddie in his big fat gay crush on Steve.

(Absolutely no pressure to do anything with this btw I'm just having Thoughts)

I was just reading this and nodding aggressively. I love babygirl Steve but I love the facets of Steve that means he can be both

Oh he’d absolutely take up an interest in cars because he thinks it would earn him points with his Dad. He’s awful to begin with, obviously, but he sticks with it and and the first time he fixes something or cleans it up and polishes it on his own he’s so proud of himself that he just keeps at it. Eventually it becomes an activity he can put all his attention on and just zone out of real life. He gets really competent and this only sends Eddie’s heart rate sky high. He sees Steve wiping his hands off on a dirty rag, flipping it onto his shoulder and squinting at eddie in the sun. Eddie’s brain shuts down, outright staring at Steve. Only reengages when Steve waves a hand infront of his face and laughs when Eddie reboots. Eddie makes sure to ask Steve for more car tips. Demonstrations really, Eddie is a visual learner.

The whole discussion with the chest hair? There’s a similar thing before they are together. Steve actually pulls Eddie into it, he was sitting in the back of the beemer while Steve and Dustin bickered up front. Eddie was half paying attention, half thinking about an unexpected cover corroded coffin were planning next week.

That all stopped when Steve directed a question to him ‘hey! Earth to Eddie! You got to back me up, chest hair is hot, right?’

Dustin squawks ‘no fair!! He’s supposed to be unbiased! No leading questions!’ He turns to face eddie in the back of the car ‘forget he said that. He’s only out for himself. Chest hairs a no, right?’

Steve is watching him in the mirror and Eddie very, very pointedly does not look at Steve’s chest (he does), looks up to catch Steve’s eye and immediately feels his face burning. It gets worse when Steve pipes up ‘come on munson, what’s your opinion, you’ve always got one.’ A smirk evident in his tone of voice, Steve is a big believer in his chest hair, and for good reason. Eddie has lost countless hours thinking about the noises Steve might make from tugging on that hair just right. Countless more hours contemplating if Steve pulls on the hair himself when he’s getting off. Before eddie can stumble much further down that path he pulls himself together, let’s put a high pitched ‘mhm! Yep! Sure!’

Dustin turns back to fave the front in disgust after firing a withering stare at eddie. Steve on the other hand just looks smug as he continues to drive, tapping on his steering wheel along to the music. Thinking to himself ‘harrington’s still got it baby’ and silently thanks his chest hair. He rubs his palm over his face as he thinks about what his next move to get Eddie might be but he catches eddue tracking his hand’s movement through the mirror. Head perking up at the rough scrape sound of dry skin on stubble. Oh this could be interesting.

Overall, Steve and Eddie are big fans of big boy manly Steve with thick forearms and a torso to match. There’s a lot of fun stuff Steve’s body allows him to do, especially once they are together. It’s mainly picking up Eddie and throwing him around, both of them are very big fans of that. But eddie makes sure to let Steve know just what his wide shoulders, thick muscled legs and identifying jaw line does to him. You know, just incase he’s forgotten

[imastoryteller]

The Paradoxical Character: 19 Unique Trait Pairings

Here’s a list of 19 wildly unusual, highly contrasting trait pairs that blend quirky or fantastical attributes. These could make for delightfully strange, otherworldly, or surreal characters:

Immensely Patient & Chronically Forgetful Character Idea: They can wait for years without complaint but never remember why they started waiting in the first place. Their endless patience is undercut by the confusion of purpose, creating an aura of timeless mystery.

Unbearably Charming & Involuntarily Invisible Character Idea: This character has charisma in spades but is cursed to flicker out of sight randomly. Their allure is magnetic, but people constantly forget they were even there, adding to their mystique and frustration.

Perpetually Cheerful & Pathologically Suspicious Character Idea: They radiate sunshine and kindness yet believe everyone is secretly plotting against them. Their optimism is baffling, considering they’re convinced of hidden dangers everywhere.

Mind-Reading Empath & Emotionally Oblivious Character Idea: Able to feel others’ emotions intensely, yet baffled by their own, this character has no clue how they themselves feel. They’re highly attuned to everyone else but entirely alienated from their own heart.

Limitless Curiosity & Existentially Terrified Character Idea: Endlessly fascinated by every detail of the universe, yet they’re constantly haunted by the fear of the universe itself. Every new discovery brings wonder and intense dread, creating a fascinating internal tug-of-war.

Brilliant Strategist & Hopelessly Absent-Minded Character Idea: A tactical genius who can plan a perfect heist, yet constantly forgets their own plan halfway through. They’re sought after for their brilliance but just as likely to wander off mid-operation.

Supernaturally Persuasive & Pathologically Indecisive Character Idea: They could talk anyone into anything—if only they could decide what they wanted to say. Their powers of persuasion are legendary, but they take forever to make a single choice.

Ancient Wisdom & Childlike Innocence Character Idea: Despite being impossibly old and wise, they approach every situation with the wonder of a child. They’re both sage and novice, baffling people who come seeking advice but receive only wonder-filled observations.

Obscure Knowledge Hoarder & Shameless Gossip Character Idea: They know every forgotten fact of history yet can’t keep a secret to save their life. This character’s deep knowledge clashes hilariously with their loose tongue, turning historical mysteries into idle chatter.

Zen-like Tranquility & Quick to Panic Character Idea: Usually the calmest person in any room, until anything unusual happens, at which point they’re the first to run. People turn to them for peace until their sudden freakouts reveal a hidden, hilarious irony.

Hyper-Logical Thinker & Ridiculously Superstitious Character Idea: Obsessed with logical consistency yet terrified of stepping on cracks or upsetting minor spirits. Their rationality makes them a master problem-solver, but they’re comically fearful of common superstitions.

Effortlessly Graceful & Magically Clumsy Character Idea: They’re naturally elegant in all they do, but objects randomly fly out of their hands or shatter in their presence. They’re revered for poise but cursed by chaos, creating an aura of unpredictable charm.

Telepathically Intuitive & Immensely Gullible Character Idea: Able to sense the unspoken thoughts of others, but easily duped by the most obvious lies. They sense everyone’s hidden motives but constantly believe in harmless nonsense.

Exceptionally Knowledgeable & Epically Lazy Character Idea: They’ve accumulated endless knowledge from books but refuse to do anything with it. They could save the world but prefer napping and observing others fumble around in ignorance.

Magnet for Coincidences & Cynically Skeptical Character Idea: The most absurd things constantly happen around them, yet they refuse to believe in coincidences. This character is a walking contradiction of fate and disbelief, surrounded by odd events they disdain.

Hyper-Attentive Listener & Mute Character Idea: They pick up every nuance of conversation and are incredibly insightful, but they can’t respond out loud. People find comfort in their presence but struggle to understand their silence and deep gaze.

Radiantly Optimistic & Obsessed with Disaster Preparedness Character Idea: Always smiling and convinced things will work out, yet constantly building bunkers and storing supplies. Their sunny outlook is shadowed by an apocalyptic readiness that baffles everyone.

Unbreakable Memory & Instantly Distracted Character Idea: They remember every moment of their life in perfect detail but are so easily distracted that they rarely finish sentences. They’re a walking history book if only they’d stay focused long enough to share it.

Boundless Energy & Always Asleep Character Idea: They have an endless zest for life and could do anything—if they could just stay awake. People are drawn to their energy, but they frequently fall asleep mid-sentence, leaving everyone in suspense.

[rottiens]

How often do you think Neuvillette makes love to reader in his dragon form? And how do they prepare for it all?

⊹ tags . . 18+, neuvillette in his dragon form, monsterfucking, established relationship, female reader.

⊹ wc . . 1.4K

⊹ notes . . didn't expect to write so much for this lol but, as always, I really enjoy the ideas you put in my head and ily.

Neuvillette is very shy at first about his true nature. Very withdrawn and perhaps ashamed of his original form. He has spent so much time among humans, understanding them and being part of them, that being with you, he forgets that this non-human part is still kept inside him.

You know the Chief Justice of Fontaine and the way he presents himself to others, you know how respected he is, how loyal he is; you know your husband and you have no doubts about him. But you don't know the Dragon Hydro. So, it is understandable that he feels shy to show his true nature before you.

Your sweet words gradually encourage him to trust you and what you assure him. You promise him so many times that no matter what you see, nothing will make you turn away from him— you do this by kissing his hand, pampering his neck, adoring his body that eventually, Neuvillette decides it's time.

As expected, his dragon form is as majestic as you had imagined. The imposing Neuvillette appears before your eyes, a being of breathtaking beauty and mystical presence. His winged figure combines the grace of an eagle with the strength of a dragon. His plumage is a symphony of colors that oscillates between deep blue tones and brilliant azure hues, creating a visual effect that evokes the power and serenity of the ocean.

You witness the magnificence of his transformation, a sight that takes your breath away and fills you with awe. As you approach, his eyes, deep and full of centuries of wisdom, look at you with a mixture of vulnerability and trust. You are honored and amazed by the faith he has placed in you, knowing that now, more than ever, you must keep your promise to stand by his side, accepting and loving every part of him, human and non-human.

His wings, broad and ethereal, appear to be sculpted from liquid light, adorned with undulating patterns reminiscent of gentle ocean currents. Each feather is outlined with silvery sparkles, giving the impression that a piece of the starry sky has been caught in its wingspan.

Neuvillette's head is noble and distinguished, with piercing eyes that sparkle with ancient wisdom. His silver mane flows back like a cascade of liquid silver. His words echo throughout the room, and he lovingly rests his forehead on yours, speaking to you through your thoughts. All the energy that fills the room bristles your skin, electric sparks that make your fingers move with a life of their own towards his face. Neuvillette drops into your hands, gazing intently at you with narrowed eyes.

Watching him, you can't help but feel that you are in the presence of an entity that transcends the mundane, a living connection between heaven and earth, the ethereal and the tangible.

"You are so beautiful, Neuvillette," you confess quietly to him. He lets out a sort of purr that fills the cave where you are, his tail visibly vibrating a tender blue, tossing back and forth like the waves of the sea.

The passing years have made him more comfortable at your side in his majestic form. You snuggle next to his body as he curls up next to you, his purrs like whispers on the wind lulling you into a placid slumber. But it is not until mating season that he realizes that opening up more with you has been both a blessing and a danger.

In that period, his desire becomes uncontrollable and his dragon nature intensifies. Neuvillette struggles to maintain control, but your gentle words and the trust you have placed in him give him the security he needs to fully embrace his true nature.

The mating gifts he has brought to you —pearls that glow even in the dark, coral crystals, jewelry created from sapphire— were now accompanied by something else. Something he considers terrible and carnal. Grunting, touching more than usual in public, slightly more possessive grips. It's second nature for you to join together in bed, to merge your bodies as one, to sink into you and make love to you all night long until you're both exhausted. But this season, there's something about Neuvillette that has him all the time with his pants tight, his hands sweating under his leather gloves and his boot clacking against the floor, he needed to be back home soon.

. . . He breathes heavily as he holds you against him. Your forehead rests on his as he recites one of the ancient poems stored on scrolls. His mouth is open, salivating, his majestic body jerking with every touch of your delicate fingers on the scales of his face.

"What's wrong?" your tone is almost pained, as if you are hurt. With a frown. Neuvillette hates himself for making you worry.

His whole body shudders as soon as your fingers tangle in the mane that hides his sharp eyes.

"My body doesn't seem to listen to me. I'm sorry, I'm burning up."

Your countenance softens, a tender smile tugs at your lips and Neuvillette jerks away from you, but you are quick to act and reach out your hands, stopping him in his attempt to escape.

"It's okay," as always, you encourage him. "I love you. In this and all your forms, Neuvillette. You have nothing to hide from me."

You prompt him, urge him to follow and explore his desires. It hurts his chest to see you so beautiful for him, to see you covered by a thin transparent cloth that barely covers your nakedness; your erect nipples are visible in the moonlight streaming through the cave and he pauses to think how firm they would feel under his tongue, your thin cotton panties soaked by a sticky layer of your arousal that provokes him just and only to push them with his claw and watch you squirm beneath him. Neuvillette suffers from not being able to control himself. But seeing you ready for him makes his animalistic senses fill with adrenaline.

Soon, he leaves the comfort of your warmth to push his face against your small body. You are so fragile, and he watches you carefully. His nose sniffs you, his scales tickle you, and you laugh. But Neuvillette is so focused on what he wants that he pays no attention to anything but that smell.

He descends under your body, determined. His face pushes the fabric up while he stands on all four paws so as not to crush you. His teeth tear at the fabric and you groan in surprise, for you have never seen him so desperate. Quickly, his long tongue darts out, cuts through the moonbeam and sinks between your thighs, exploring your slick folds with ferocity.

The dragon growls hungrily, devouring everything he can reach with his insatiable tongue. The split tip of his tongue does a dance on your clit, and you raise your hips in search of that pleasure, clinging to the silken sheets as waves of pleasure lash you. Neuvillette grunts, salivates and devours you as if for the first time. You melt with each lick until the impending end of your orgasm hits you.

Even after, he continues to lick you slowly, still greedy, still hungry.

Adoringly, his nose is wet from every trace of skin he gets, worshipping you like a deity.

After this, shame consumes him, so embarrassed to let this barbaric behavior that he has shown to no one else come to light, those instincts that make him lose his composure. Yet, with you by his side, promising him that everything is fine, that you are fine, Neuvillette allows it to happen a second time and then a third. How often? I think it happens spontaneously, but especially when he is in heat, he can't help but take you in his original form, in fact even if he won't admit it, in this state it is his favorite way to make love to you. Although he may lose control of his thrusts, he always tries to be gentle with you, always leaving a mark or two after the session.

These always start with him first in his human form, stretching you with his fingers, making you cum several times with them, then with his split tongue. Finally, when you're ready, one of his two cocks slides into you smoothly, so deep you don't remember how to breathe. Deep inside, he longs for the day when you can take both at the same time.

[flowerbunnyboo]

YOU'RE MINE | back

starring: chan x male reader

summary: chan has always been love with his new assistant since day one but an incident triggers him to show his love for his assistant via his cock

nsfw

a/n: did i cum to this? yes

Chan's piercing gaze locked onto Mn as soon as he stepped into the opulent office, the newly hired personal assistant exuding an aura of quiet confidence that immediately captivated the CEO. With chiseled features and a lean, athletic build, Mn seemed handcrafted to stir primal desires, and Chan found himself inexplicably drawn to this enigmatic stranger.

As the days passed, Chan's fascination only deepened. He marveled at Mn's efficiency, his keen intellect, and the way he moved with a fluid grace that belied his sharp focus. But more than professional admiration, a different kind of longing began to simmer within Chan – a yearning that had nothing to do with business acumen or organizational skills.

It wasn't until the incident with the lecherous employee that Chan's emotions boiled over.

Chan's fingers trailed lower, dancing along the edge of Mn's jawline before cupping his face. He tilted Mn's head back, forcing their gazes to meet, and leaned in close. Their lips hovered mere inches apart, the air thick with unspoken desire.

Chan's other hand slid around to grasp Mn's hip, pulling him flush against the hard planes of his chest. The heat of their bodies mingled as Chan pressed forward, claiming Mn's mouth in a searing kiss.

Mn melted into the embrace, his arms winding around Chan's neck as he returned the passionate onslaught. Their tongues danced and twined, a sensual tango that left them both breathless.

Mn had no idea how he had ended up like this with Chan but he was loving every second of it.

Breaking the kiss, Chan nuzzled his nose against Mn's, inhaling the sweet scent of his skin. "I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you", he murmured, his words dripping with sincerity. "I couldn't resist anymore when I saw how that fool dared to look at you. You're so much more than just a pretty face, Mn. You're brilliant, talented, and sexy as hell", he said making Mn let out a small chuckle. "Why, thank you".

Chan's hands roamed over Mn's body, mapping every curve and contour with reverent touches. He palmed the firm globes of Mn's ass, squeezing gently before sliding down to grasp the hem of his pants.

With deft fingers, Chan unbuckled Mn's belt and lowered the zipper, revealing the tantalizing bulge beneath. He groaned softly, his own arousal straining against the confines of his tailored slacks.

"Mn, I need you", Chan panted, his eyes dark with lust. "Right here, right now"

Mn nodded eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. He'd been harboring secret desires for his enigmatic boss, and now that the dam had broken, there was no turning back.

With a swift tug, Chan yanked Mn's pants and underwear down, exposing his beautifully formed cock to the cool air of the cabin. Mn gasped as Chan's warm hand wrapped around his shaft, giving it a slow, teasing stroke.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous", Chan praised, his thumb rubbing over the sensitive head. "I'm going to worship this dick all night long".

Without further hesitation, Chan sank to his knees, positioning himself between Mn's spread legs. He looked up at Mn with smoldering eyes, his own erection throbbing impatiently against his stomach.

Then, with a hunger that bordered on feral, Chan engulfed Mn's length in his mouth, taking him deep. Mn cried out, his fingers tangling in Chan's hair as he fought to maintain balance against the overwhelming pleasure. "Fuck!"

Chan set a relentless pace, his tongue swirling and laving every inch of Mn's cock as he sucked him off with wild abandon. The musky taste of his lover's arousal filled his senses, spurring him on.

Mn's hips bucked erratically, his grip on Chan's hair tightening as he neared the brink. "Oh god, Chan, I'm... I'm gonna—"

But Chan wouldn't let him finish, instead doubling his efforts and swallowing around Mn's pulsing member as he came undone. Hot spurts of cum flooded Chan's throat, and he drank it all down, savoring every drop.

Mn felt his body go hot as saw down at the sight of his boss licking his cock.

Chan struggled to catch his breath after the intense orgasm, his own erection still painfully hard against his abdomen. As he released Mn's spent cock from his mouth, he gazed up at him with a triumphant grin.

"That was incredible", Chan purred, his voice husky with satisfaction. "But we're far from done, sweetheart"

With a fluid motion, he rose to his feet and shed his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly aside. Next went his tie, followed by the buttons of his dress shirt, which he peeled open to reveal a chiseled torso adorned with a big tattoo.

Mn watched, transfixed, as Chan revealed more of his toned physique. The CEO's piercing eyes never left Mn's as he undid his belt and slipped free of his slacks, letting them pool at his feet.

Now fully nude, Chan stepped closer, his impressive erection jutting proudly from a nest of curly blond hair. He reached out to trail a finger down Mn's chest, following the path of a thin scar that bisected one pec.

"Tell me about this", Chan commanded, his tone soft but insistent. "How did you get it?"

Mn's cheeks flushed, a mix of embarrassment and vulnerability washing over him. "It's from a knife fight, back in my rougher days", he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was young, stupid, and trying to prove myself. It nearly cost me everything"

Chan's expression turned stern, his jaw clenched in anger on behalf of Mn. "And yet, here you are, stronger and wiser because of it. I'm proud of you, Mn"

With a gentle touch, Chan caressed the scar once more before leaning in to press a tender kiss to the same spot. "Let me show you just how much I admire your resilience and strength", he whispered against Mn's skin.

Emboldened by the tender gesture, Mn captured Chan's lips in a heated kiss, pouring all his pent-up passion and gratitude into the embrace. They devoured each other, their mouths moving in perfect sync as if they'd been made for this very dance.

Breaking away for a moment, Chan guided Mn toward the plush bed hidden in the back of the cabin. "Come, love", he coaxed, his hands roaming possessively over Mn's backside. "Let me take care of you properly."

As they tumbled onto the mattress, Chan's weight pinned Mn beneath him, their naked bodies entwining like living vines.

Chan claimed Mn's mouth again, kissing him deeply as his hands explored every inch of his lover's body. He traced the contours of Mn's shoulders, relishing the feel of lean muscle beneath smooth skin. His thumbs brushed over Mn's nipples, coaxing them to peak as he lavished attention on the sensitive buds.

Mn arched into the touch, a low moan escaping him as pleasure coursed through his veins. His own hands roamed Chan's back, feeling the play of muscles beneath the CEO's golden skin. He marveled at the contrast between Chan's powerful build and his own frame.

Breaking the kiss, Chan gazed down at Mn with an intensity that stole his breath. "You're exquisite", he breathed, his voice heavy with desire. "Every part of you is made for me."

Chan's words sent a shiver down Mn's spine, his heart racing at the raw emotion behind them. He felt cherished, wanted, and utterly possessed by the man above him. "Let me treat you", Mn said.

Emboldened by the sensation, Mn reached down to wrap his fingers around Chan's thick erection, stroking it slowly from base to tip. Chan's eyes fluttered shut, his head tilting back in bliss as Mn's touch ignited a fire within him.

"You feel amazing", Mn murmured, his thumb circling the swollen head of Chan's cock. "So hard and hot... I can't wait to have you inside me"

Chan's lids snapped open, his gaze locking with Mn's as a fierce hunger took hold. "Then take it", he growled, his hips surging forward to impale Mn on his rigid length. "Take every inch of me, baby"

A sharp cry tore from Mn's throat as Chan pushed himself inside, stretching and filling him completely. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on pain as his body adjusted to the intrusion.

But as Chan began to move, withdrawing until only the tip remained inside before plunging back in, the discomfort melted away, replaced by an intoxicating blend of pleasure and pressure. Each thrust rocked Mn's entire being, sending sparks of ecstasy dancing along his nerve endings.

"Mmm, yes", Mn panted, his nails digging into Chan's back as he met each drive with his own desperate upward roll of his hips. "Harder, Chan... fuck me harder!"

Chan obliged, his pace growing more erratic as he chased his release. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by their ragged breathing and muffled grunts of pleasure.

Chan's thrusts became brutal, almost punishing in their intensity as he pounded into Mn with reckless abandon. The headboard slammed against the wall with each forceful entry, the rhythmic thuds echoing through the cabin.

Mn's world narrowed to the searing heat of Chan's cock and the relentless friction it created within him. His prostate was a live wire, sparking pleasure with every plunge, and he could feel his own climax building, coiling tighter and tighter in his core.

"Close... I'm so close!", Mn gasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Don't stop, please don't stop!"

Chan's response was a guttural groan, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor as he chased his own impending orgasm. "Not gonna... gonna fill you up... make you mine..."

With a final thrust, Chan buried himself to the root inside Mn, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he unleashed a torrent of hot semen deep within his lover's clenching passage.

Mn cried out, his own orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. His hole rippled around Chan's spurting length, milking him for every drop as waves of ecstasy washed through him.

They collapsed together, Chan's weight pressing Mn into the mattress as they both struggled to catch their breath. Chan's face was buried in the crook of Mn's neck, his hot breath fanning over the sweat-slicked skin as he nuzzled and kissed his way up to claim Mn's lips in a slow, sated kiss.

After a long moment, Chan lifted his head, his eyes shining with adoration as he gazed down at Mn. "Mine", he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're truly mine now, in every way that matters"

Mn smiled up at him, his heart full to bursting with love and contentment. "Always have been", he replied softly, his fingers threading through Chan's hair. Just took you a little longer to realize it.

Chan chuckled, the sound warm and rich, and leaned in to capture Mn's lips once more. As they kissed, the afterglow of their intense lovemaking settled over them like a cozy blanket, wrapping them in a sense of peace and belonging.

In this moment, nothing else existed beyond the two of them, lost in the comfort of each other's arms. The outside world faded away, leaving only the steady thrum of their hearts beating as one.

©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit

[cursedhaglette]

Solavellan fic recs please I’m so hungry 🥺🥺

oh I'd love to provide! these have been my personal favorites so far (also fair warning, I am a solavellan fucked in DAI truther and that is reflected in my choices below so your mileage may vary)

Everything by niceasspavus - especially their fic Servitude which is an absolute masterwork. The prose is succinct but spectacular, the smut is excellent and never feels out of place (smut sometimes can with solavellan okay) and they dig into Solas' mind in a really beautiful way. They also started a modern AU fic and while that's not usually my trope at all, I've actually read what they have posted so far like three times because it's so good. Can't wait to see if they grace us with more.

Fellchaser by @rosieofcorona - Okay make that literally anything Darcy touches I recommend but Fellchaser is...I want to plaster my walls with it. The walls of my mind prison at least. The first time I read it, I literally read it five times back to back to back (I was admittedly very high but that's NOT THE POINT) because I was so taken with the prose and every detail. It is absolute perfection, seriously, the only thing wrong with it is that it isn't 100k words

What He Wouldn't Give by sugarhihello - a devastating take what happens immediately after the Crestwood scene we know and hate to love. I'm scared of writers who can make me want more of a scene like that and yet this fic gives me that

The Waiting by say_lene - solavellan thigh riding, need I say more?

Even Gods Need Miracles by callmebecks - A study of Solas' mindset from DAI to now include the DAV ending.

A Field as Wild as Your Heart by lillith_morgana - An exceptional take on the solavellan ending/post-DAV with gorgeous prose

Dreadful Recollections by @scaryanneee - if you know me from the bg3 era at all, you know Think of Me is a smut of all time so scaryanne joining us in solavellan hell has been SO FUN (for me personally at least eheheh) This little smut is so brilliant because it truly gave me so many ideas to play with for my own ship during this time period while also being so hot??? Also just read the tags on this and you know you're in for a great time

Handle With Care by feynite - I'm sure you've seen feynite if you've looked at solavellan fics because Looking Glass is the biggest one but I think this is just a really excellent little fic of theirs. Sad AND sexy - what every Solas fan is looking for I think

solavellan moots, please feel free to add on - I'm always looking for more and I'm sure others are too! anon - hope this gave you some tasty morsels and feel free to come back if you need more! xoxox

[violetbeauregut]

In Defense of Feedism

I was absolutely struck when I read  @fatliberation‘s beautiful, vulnerable post the other day. They always have brilliant ideas and they show unfailing grace and kindness to everyone, despite a ton of rude, ill-informed backlash (I would 100% recommend following them). 

I can’t stop thinking about the reactions to that post and how incredibly strange it is to have to tiptoe around feedism (to use an umbrella term) in a movement that is supposed to be centered around ending the oppression of fat people. 

I can understand why fat people who are not feedists would be weary or even repulsed by this kink. From the outside it may seem degrading and manipulative that the language and insults used against fat people are replicated in the bedroom. It is also harmful to be fetishized when you do not want to be fetishized, both in real life and online. 

But these are the only points I’ve heard against feedism that I consider to be a legitimate argument in the discourse of fat liberation, as these are the only claims against feedism I’ve come across that are not based in fatphobia. If you are in favor of fat liberation, then you must see fatness as morally neutral. Therefore, the choice to gain weight is not inherently “good” or “bad,” it is instead a matter of autonomy– a right that should be granted to everyone, regardless of size. 

The major issue with feedism is the same issue that permeates all kink and, by extension, all sexuality: consent. There are feedists, particularly feeders, who fetishize all fat people, regardless of their wishes; feedists who try to force fat people to participate in kink with or without their knowledge or permission. This is abhorrent behavior; there are no excuses for it. But the problem here is a violation of consent and not the kink itself. The unethical practice of kink does not make the kink unethical. And while feedees are often disregarded in discussions of feedism and fat liberation (which I have already talked about in depth here), there are most assuredly fat feedees, like myself, who are fully consenting to fat fetish play. 

While I can only speak for myself, I know that I am not the only person who developed this kink because of weight-related trauma. When you grow up fat, when you are forced to go to Weight Watchers at seven years old, your brain comes to associate fat as taboo and taboo as sexy–but it goes beyond an attraction to something risky or frowned upon. 

I live my life as a fat woman; I am fat at the doctor’s office and fat in tiny airplane seats and I am especially fat as a feedee. No matter if I’m engaging with my kink or not, I am fat and I don’t get to stop being fat outside of my bedroom. Out of all of the scenarios where I am existing in my fat body, engaging in kink play is the only one where I am experiencing pleasure because of my body, not despite it. It’s arousing to be praised for the thing that once made you hate yourself. It’s arousing to engage with something you fear or that has harmed you in a safe, controlled context where you have all the power to make it stop. 

What anti-feedist fat liberationists need to understand is that feedism is, at its core, a resistance to fatphobia. When you see things that are typically fatphobic in feedist play– terms like “pig,” “cow,” “tubby,” etc. and comments about being “out of shape” or “ruined” by fat– it is not a replication of weight stigma, but a subversion of it. Feedism takes the harmful stereotypes of fatness and robs them of their power by putting them in a new context; a context where fatness is so desirable that feedists want more of it. By using the language and misconceptions of fatness to give and receive pleasure instead of to oppress, feedism not only creates a safe space to heal from fatphobic trauma, but it empowers fatness– it empowers fat people, which is supposed to be the goal of fat liberation.

[natsaffection]

OKAY SO LIKE I WAS JUS ON TIKTOK N LIKE THOSE SONG ACCS POPPED UP N IT WAS PLAYING “why’d you only call me when you’re high” i havent heard this song in a WHILE

n it jus like sparked my next greatest idea😇 SO imagine football player! nat n cheerleader!reader, they’re both insanely popular. But they’re in separate friend groups. And readers bestfriends also happens to be the one and only playboy, Tony Stark, with player Bucky Barnes in second place. And Reader had her eye on Natasha for quite a while and actually finds herself asking out Natasha one day.

BUT unbeknownst to her, Natasha had a plan in her mind. Natasha assumed Reader was like Tony and Bucky and that she was trying to get a hit on her so she decided to “play along.” then breaking reader’s heart first.

ANGSTYYYY, and a fluffy ending

-💋

Whatever it takes. | N.R

FootballPlayer!Natasha x Cheerleader!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, fingering, blowjob, Y/n smacking everyone, Break Up, Angstt

Word Count: 6,4 k

A/N: OKAYYY...I got very inspired by the song that Girl - olly murs, Also..Again a very good and creative Idea, dear Anon! Thank you for that. 🙂‍↕️

The Field buzzed with electric energy as the crowd gathered for the highly anticipated Football game. Natasha Romanoff, the star player, was at the center of attention, her presence dominating the field with an aura of confidence and undeniable skill. Her hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, her eyes focused and determined. She was a force to be reckoned with, admired and respected by both her teammates and opponents.

Natasha's journey to becoming a football player had been anything but easy. Growing up in a rough neighborhood, she found solace in sports. Her natural talent and relentless drive caught the attention of her high school coach, who took her under his wing. Despite numerous obstacles, Natasha's hard work and dedication paid off, earning her a spot on the college team and a scholarship. Her teammates became her second family, and the field her sanctuary. Over time, she learned to be wary of those who wanted to get close to her for the wrong reasons and to guard her heart carefully.

On the sidelines, the cheerleading squad prepared for their routine, each member wearing their immaculate uniforms, complete with shimmering pom poms. Among them stood you, a popular cheerleader known for your vibrant spirit and radiant smile. You moved with grace and precision, each action a testament to the countless hours of practice and dedication you had put into your craft.

Your journey was different but equally challenging. You had always been passionate about dancing and cheerleading, but your parents initially disapproved, insisting you focus on school. Undeterred, you managed to excel at both, proving you could handle the demands of school and cheerleading. Your determination and positive attitude earned you the respect of your peers and a leadership position on the team.

The cheerleaders took their positions on the sidelines, ready to kick off the game with an energizing routine. You led the team with a brilliant smile, your movements perfectly synchronized with the beat of the music. The crowd responded with cheers, their excitement palpable. As the routine reached its climax, you executed a flawless backflip and landed gracefully, drawing applause from the audience.

As the game began, you found yourself glancing repeatedly at Natasha. You had always admired her athleticism and fighting spirit, but today was different. Something about the way Natasha moved, the sheer determination in her eyes, captivated your attention in a way you couldn't quite explain.

Throughout the first half of the game, your eyes followed Natasha's every move. She was in her element, effortlessly slipping past defenders. She intercepted passes, set up plays, and scored with a precision that left the crowd in awe. Each time Natasha scored or made a significant play, you felt a tingle in your chest, an inexplicable warmth spreading through you.

During a brief pause in the game, you took a moment to catch your breath. You looked over at your fellow cheerleaders, who were engrossed in their own conversations and preparations. Your best friend Kate noticed your distraction and nudged you playfully.

"Earth to Y/n! You seem a bit out of it today. Everything okay?" Kate asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. You laughed softly and shook your head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just watching the game."

Kate raised an eyebrow and glanced at the field, where Natasha was discussing strategy with her teammates. "Or watching someone in particular on the field?"

Your cheeks flushed slightly. "Is it that obvious?" Kate giggled and gave you a knowing look. "Only to those who know you well. You've had your eyes on Natasha the entire game. Do you like her?"

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. You had never really thought about it. Sure, you admired Natasha, but could it be more? The realization hit you like a ton of bricks..you had a crush on Natasha Romanoff.

"I... I think I do.." you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Kate grinned, her excitement evident. "Well, it's about time you realized it! I think you should talk to her after the game."

Your mind raced, your nerves tingling with excitement and fear. You nodded slowly, your gaze drifting back to Natasha. As the game resumed, you cheered louder, your movements more energetic than ever as you kept your eyes on Natasha.

When the final whistle blew, signaling the end of the game, the crowd erupted in cheers. Natasha's team had won, and she was quickly surrounded by teammates and fans congratulating her on her outstanding performance. You watched from the sidelines, your heart pounding as you contemplated your next move.

"Hey, Romanoff! Looks like you have an admirer!" teased one of her teammates, nudging her towards the sidelines where you stood. "Yeah, don't let the hot cheerleader get away," added another with a grin.

"Bet she'd love to give you a private cheer.." joked another teammate, prompting a round of laughter. Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. The teasing comments from her teammates gave her the push she needed, despite her attempts to maintain a cool facade.

"Careful, Romanoff, she might be too much for you in the bedroom.." joked yet another teammate, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Nah, I'd love to know what it's like under her pom poms." and another one, eliciting another round of laughter.

Natasha's cheeks reddened slightly, but she held your gaze. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull, despite her reservations. She had seen it before, people wanting to get close to her for the wrong reasons, to bask in her glow rather than genuinely care about her.

"Guys, seriously, tone it down." Natasha said firmly, her voice cutting through their laughter. As the team headed towards the locker room, they had to pass by the cheerleaders. You saw them coming, and your courage wavered. You felt a wave of shyness as the team approached, and despite your previous determination, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say.

Natasha kept her gaze forward, the laughter of her teammates fading into the background as she passed by the cheerleaders. She briefly met your gaze, but the moment passed quickly, and she continued on her way without saying a word.

You stood there silently, frustrated with yourself for not having the courage to speak up, for missing the chance to connect with Natasha. You watched as Natasha disappeared into the locker room with her team, a mix of admiration and frustration welling up inside you.

"Come on, you can't tell me you're not interested." teased a teammate as they entered the locker room. Natasha sighed and shook her head slightly. "Just drop it now, okay?"

The days flew by, filled with classes, homework, and extracurricular activities. You found yourself constantly reminded of Natasha, whether through classmates discussing the latest soccer game or seeing Natasha in the school hallways. The memory of your brief interaction after the game lingered in your mind, making your heart race every time you thought about it.

One afternoon, you sat with Kate at your usual table in the school cafeteria. The bustling chatter of students talking and eating surrounded you, but your attention was focused on Natasha's table at the other end of the room. Natasha was deep in conversation with some of her mates, her laughter standing out above the general hum of voices.

"She really does look good.." Kate remarked, noticing your distracted gaze. You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. "Yeah.. I just can't get her out of my head. It's like everywhere I go, something or someone reminds me of her." Kate smiled understandingly. "Maybe it's a sign. You should talk to her, Y/n. You never know what might happen."

Before you could respond, the cafeteria door swung open, and Tony strolled in with his usual confident swagger. Tony was known for his charm and playboy reputation, always confident and seemingly able to get any girl he wanted. He spotted the two of you and made his way directly to your table.

"Ladies, how's it going?" Tony greeted with a grin, taking a seat in an empty chair. "Hey, Tony.." Kate responded lightly. "Y/n here is just crushing on someone."

Tony raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of you. "Oh? Do tell." You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed. "It's really nothing. There's just this girl I like, but I don't know how to approach her."

Tony's grin widened, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Well, you're talking to the master at getting the girl. Who's the lucky lady?"

You hesitated, casting a nervous glance towards Natasha's table. "It's... Natasha."

Tony's eyes widened briefly in surprise before a mischievous smile spread across his face. "Natasha, huh? She's a tough nut to crack, but I think you've got a chance. You just need a little push." You frowned, uncertain. "I don't know, Tony.. She's so... out of my league."

"Nonsense." Tony said dismissively. "You're great, Y/n. You just need to show her that. Come on, I'll help you out." Kate looked intrigued. "What do you have in mind?"

Tony's grin turned sly, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Simple. You're going to go over there and ask Natasha out." Your eyes widened in panic. "What? No way. I can't do that!"

"Yes, you can," Tony insisted, leaning forward. "Just be confident. What's the worst that could happen? She says no? No big deal. At least you'll know you tried."

You glanced at Kate, who nodded encouragingly. Taking a deep breath, you stood up, your legs feeling wobbly. Tony gave you a reassuring pat on the back. "Go get her, tiger," Tony said with a wink.

You made your way across the cafeteria to Natasha's table, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the eyes of other students on you, adding to your nerves. As you approached Natasha's table, you cleared your throat and tried to steady your voice.

"Uh, hi.." you said, your voice trembling slightly. Natasha looked up, surprise flickering in her eyes. "Hi."

You took a deep breath and tried to ignore the curious stares of Natasha's teammates. "I was wondering if... if you'd like to go out with me? Maybe we could grab a coffee or something?"

There was a moment of silence, and it felt like the world had stopped. Natasha's expression was unreadable, and your heart sank, fearing the worst. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of Natasha's lips. "Sure. I'd like that." You blinked in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Natasha said, her smile growing. "Why not? It could be fun." Relief and joy flooded through you, and you couldn't help but grin. "Great! Um, I'll see you after school?"

"Sounds good " Natasha replied with a nod. As you turned and walked back to your table, you felt like you were walking on air. Tony and Kate greeted you with cheers and high-fives.

"See? I told you it would work." Tony said, looking quite pleased with himself. "Thanks, Tony. I owe you one.." you said, your smile not fading.

"Just have fun." Tony replied with a wink. "And don't forget to tell me all about it."

Natasha watched you, even as her teammates' conversations drew her back in. The cafeteria was bustling with life, but her thoughts remained on the unexpected encounter with you. Natasha's smile faded slightly as she continued to think.

She glanced over at your table, where Tony was animatedly talking with you and Kate. Natasha squinted slightly. Tony Stark and his buddy Bucky Barnes were notorious at school for their playboy antics, always bragging about their latest conquests. Natasha had seen too many girls left heartbroken by them and wasn't about to let herself become one of their pawns.

She knew better than to trust appearances, especially when Stark and his crew were involved. Steve and Sam exchanged looks but said nothing further. They knew Natasha well enough to understand that once she made up her mind, nothing could change it.

As her teammates turned back to their meals, Natasha's resolve grew stronger. She wouldn't be another notch on someone's belt. If you thought you could play her, you had another thing coming. Natasha would play along, but on her terms. She would teach you a lesson and be the one to walk away first.

Later, as the cafeteria began to empty, Natasha found herself glancing over at your table again. Tony had left, probably off to charm someone else, and you were deep in conversation with Kate. For a brief moment, you looked up, and your eyes met. Natasha gave a slight nod in greeting, and you smiled shyly before quickly looking away.

"Hey, Nat, you coming?" Sam called, breaking her train of thought. "Yeah, I'm coming." Natasha replied, grabbing her things and casting you one last glance before following her teammates out of the cafeteria.

As Natasha walked through the school halls with her teammates, she couldn't help but feel a sense of determination. She had been played before and had learned from those experiences. This time, she would be in control. This time, Natasha would be the one to break a heart first.

Later that evening, Natasha found herself getting ready for the coffee date with you. She dressed casually but made sure she looked good. After all, she had to maintain the appearance. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she reminded herself of her plan. She would make you think you had a chance, play the role of the interested one, but always with her guard up.

When she arrived at the café, she saw you already there, nervously fiddling with your phone. She took a deep breath, put on her best smile, and walked over to you. "Hey," she greeted you, sitting down across from you. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

You looked up, and your face lit up with a smile. "No, not at all. I'm just glad you came." Natasha returned the smile, but her mind was already at work. She would play the game, but this time, she would win.

Natasha leaned back in her chair, smiling at you. "So, tell me a bit about yourself. What do you do besides cheerleading?" You smiled and relaxed a little. "Well, I'm really into dance. I've been dancing since I was a kid. It's a big part of my life. What about you? How did you get into football?"

Natasha shrugged casually, but couldn't suppress a hint of nostalgia. "I've always been into sports. Growing up, it was a way to escape everything else. Soccer just became my passion." You nodded, your eyes reflecting genuine interest. "That's amazing. Watching you play is incredible."

"Thanks." Natasha replied, appreciating the compliment but reminding herself, "What do you want to do after school?"

"I'm thinking about studying dance and maybe becoming a choreographer.." you said, your eyes lighting up. "It's a long shot, but it's my dream." Natasha smiled, feeling a small connection despite her intentions. "That's the right attitude. You should go for it."

They continued talking, the conversation flowing easily. You shared stories about your family and friends, and Natasha found herself laughing at some of your anecdotes. Despite her initial skepticism, she found herself enjoying your company. You were warm and engaging, and Natasha began to wonder if she had misjudged you.

As the evening progressed, they finished their coffee and walked out of the café together. The night air was cool, and they strolled slowly, talking about everything and anything.

"That was really nice.." you said softly, looking at her. "Yeah, it was." Natasha agreed, feeling a twinge of doubt about her plan. But she quickly pushed it aside. "Maybe we could do this again sometime?" you asked hopefully. Natasha smiled, but kept her emotions in check. "Sure, I'd like that."

They said their goodbyes, and Natasha watched as you walked away, a mix of emotions swirling inside her. She had to remind herself of her plan. This was about teaching a lesson, not getting involved.

In the following days, Natasha found herself thinking about you more often than she cared to admit. They saw each other at school, exchanged smiles, and even had a few brief conversations. Natasha's teammates noticed and made some teasing comments, but she brushed them off, determined to stay focused.

One afternoon, Natasha was in the gym working out when Tony and Bucky walked in. They were laughing and talking, as usual, about their latest conquests. "Hey, Romanoff, heard you're spending time with Y/n." Tony said, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't think you were her type."

Natasha gave him a cool look. "We're just hanging out, Stark. Why do you care?" Bucky grinned. "Just don't let her wrap you around her finger, Nat. Girls like her are dangerous."

Natasha clenched her jaw, her resolve hardening. "I know exactly what I'm doing." Tony shrugged, a sly smile on his face. "Just looking out for her. If you need tips on handling her, you know where to find me."

Natasha rolled her eyes and returned to her workout, but their words echoed in her mind. She had to stay focused. She couldn't let you get too close.

A few days later, Natasha and you were sitting together on the school steps, enjoying a rare moment of calm between classes. They talked about their weekend plans, laughing and sharing stories. "So, I was thinking.." you began, a hint of nervousness in your voice. "Maybe we could go to the movies this weekend?" Natasha hesitated, her plan and growing feelings clashing in her mind. She forced a smile. "Yeah, that sounds like fun."

As you beamed with excitement, Natasha's thoughts raced. She had to be careful. She couldn't let you get too close. She would go to the movies, keep up the charade, but always remember why she was doing this. But as they continued talking, Natasha couldn't shake the nagging feeling that she was still the one being played. You seemed so genuine, so different from the others. Natasha's resolve wavered, but she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had a lesson to teach, and she wouldn't be the one getting hurt.

Days passed, and their bond grew stronger. They spent almost every day together, finding comfort in each other's company. Natasha couldn't deny the feelings blossoming inside her, even as she kept reminding herself of her original plan.

One evening, they were at Natasha's house, sitting on the couch and watching a movie. Natasha's arm was around your shoulders, and you were snuggled close to her. The movie played in the background, but Natasha's attention was entirely on the girl beside her.

You leaned in and caught Natasha's lips in a tender kiss. This time, the kiss deepened, filled with a longing and passion neither could deny. Natasha's hands tangled in your hair as she pulled you closer, their bodies pressing together.

When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless. Your eyes searched Natasha's eyes, filled with a mix of desire and affection. "Natasha, I want to be with you. Completely.." Natasha's heart raced, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. She wanted this more than she had wanted anything in a long time. But the nagging reminder of why she had started all of this lingered. Fuck it, just this one time. She pushed those thoughts aside and nodded. "I want that too."

They went into Natasha's bedroom, the atmosphere charged with anticipation. As they kissed and undressed each other, the outside world faded, leaving only the here and now. Natasha's hands roamed over your body, her touch gentle yet demanding. You responded in kind, your fingers tracing the contours of Natasha's skin, eliciting shivers and soft sighs.

Natasha took the lead, her movements confident and assured. She guided you to the bed and gently laid you down. Natasha's eyes glided over your body, appreciating every curve and contour. "You're so beautiful.." she whispered, her voice husky with desire. You blushed, your breath hitching as Natasha's hands caressed you. "Natasha..."

"Shh.." Natasha murmured, leaning down to kiss you deeply. "Let me take care of you." Her lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of soft kisses and gentle nibbles. You arched your back, your hands gripping the sheets as Natasha's mouth explored your body. When Natasha's lips reached a sensitive spot, a gasp escaped you, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"S-Shit, please..." you breathed, your voice trembling with need. Natasha looked up, her eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you." Natasha smiled, her hands gliding over your body, exploring every inch of you. She took her time, savoring every reaction, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. When Natasha's fingers found your most sensitive spot, she teased you gently, drawing out the pleasure.

Natasha kissed her way back up to your lips, capturing them in a passionate kiss. "You feel so good." she murmured against your lips. "I want more of you."

Your breath hitched as Natasha's fingers grew more intense, your body trembling with pleasure. "Natasha... I'm so close..."

"Let go." Natasha whispered, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "I've got you." With Natasha's words and touch guiding you, you let go, your body shuddering with the intensity of your climax. Natasha held you close, her lips pressing gentle kisses to your skin, murmuring soothing words.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, you clung to Natasha, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You lay entwined, your bodies warm and satisfied. Natasha's fingers traced lazy patterns on your skin, and you sighed contentedly.

"I'm falling in love with you.." you murmured, your voice soft and content. Natasha's heart was full of emotions, but the nagging voice in the back of her mind doesn't stop. She kissed your head, holding you close. "I'm falling for you too.."

Natasha's breath caught as you kissed her again. Slowly, you began to kiss your way down Natasha's body, your lips leaving a trail of fire. Natasha's skin tingled with every kiss, her breath growing uneven as you moved lower. When your lips reached Natasha's erect member, a soft moan escaped her, her hands gripping the sheets. "Fuck...you don't have to..."

Natasha's body responded eagerly as your mouth closed around her shaft, your tongue moving in gentle circles. Natasha gasped, her hips bucking instinctively. "Oh God, Y/n..." Her grip in your hair tightened, guiding your movements. "Take it... d-deeper.." she commanded, her voice husky with desire.

Your hands held Natasha's thighs steady as you took her deeper, your mouth moving up and down with growing intensity. Natasha's breath came in ragged gasps, her hands tangling in your hair as the pleasure built. "Y/n..don't stop..." Natasha panted, her body trembling with need.

Your lips and tongue moved with expert precision, driving Natasha closer to the edge with each stroke. Natasha felt the pleasure rising to an unbearable peak, her body arching off the bed. "Fuck, I'm so close..." Her grip in your hair tightened, holding you in place. "I want to fill your mouth.." she whispered, her voice commanding and intense.

With your encouragement and skilled movements, Natasha finally let go, her climax crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her body shuddered with the intensity, her moans filling the room as she found her release. You held her close, your mouth and hands not stopping, prolonging the pleasure until Natasha was completely spent, and you swallowing every drop.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Natasha lay back, her breath coming in ragged bursts. You crawled back up to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Natasha pulled you close, holding you tight. "You're incredible.." she said, her voice filled with emotion.

They lay together, their bodies entwined, and Natasha couldn't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. Despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind, she couldn't deny the feelings that had blossomed between them. And that was dangerous. So, she made a note to end things in the coming days. It was always best to stop while things were still good, right?

A few days later, during one of Natasha's games, you were on the field with the cheerleading team, cheering loudly with the rest of the crowd. Your eyes followed Natasha's every move, your heart swelling with pride and affection. Natasha was in her element, moving with grace and power, leading her team with confidence.

At one point during the game, Natasha was tackled hard and hit the ground with a dull thud. Your heart skipped a beat, concern flooding you as you saw Natasha lying motionless before she slowly got up. "Come on, Natasha.." you whispered to yourself, your hands clutching your pom poms tightly.

Natasha shook off the tackle, waved away her concerned teammates, and signaled to the coach that she was fine. She caught your worried look from the sideline and gave you a reassuring nod. You breathed a sigh of relief, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

The game continued, and Natasha's team eventually won, the crowd erupting in cheers. As the team headed towards the locker room, you pushed through the crowd, your worry still evident on your face. You reached Natasha just as she was about to enter the locker room. "Are you okay?" you asked, your voice full of concern.

Natasha looked at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm fine. It was just a tackle." You frowned, not entirely convinced. "Are you sure? That looked really bad." Natasha laughed, the sound cold and distant. "Trust me, I've been through worse." You nodded, but the unease didn't leave you. "Okay, if you say so. Just be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Natasha replied, her tone almost mocking. "See you later." You watched her go, a nagging feeling that something was wrong gnawing at you. You shook your head, trying to brush it off, and returned to your team.

Days passed, and Natasha and you still continued to spend time together, your bond seeming to grow stronger. You laughed more, shared more secrets, and your connection felt unbreakable. But Natasha knew it was time to execute the final part of her plan.

One afternoon, Natasha asked you to meet her at the park where you had shared your first kiss. You arrived with a smile, which quickly faded when you saw the cold, distant expression on Natasha's face. "Natasha, what's wrong?" you asked, concern creeping into your voice.

Natasha took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk." Your eyes widened, your heart sinking. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

Natasha looked away, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "I think we need to end this. Us." The words hung heavy and painful in the air. Your face contorted, tears welling up in your eyes. "W-What, why? Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh, come on. Do you really think I didn't see through your little game? You and Tony trying to play me? I know all about your plans." Your face twisted in confusion and pain. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb.." Natasha said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You and Tony thought you could manipulate me, get into my head. Well, guess what? I was the one playing you. How does it feel, Y/n?"

Your eyes widened in shock. "N-No..Natasha! you misunderstood... I never-" Natasha laughed, the sound harsh and unkind. "Did you really think I meant any of it? You were just a game. I got close to you to show you how it feels like, when you get crushed."

Your sobs grew louder, your body trembling with heartbreak. "Please, Natasha. I don't understand... We were happy! Y-You said you loved me..?"

Natasha's smile widened, finding twisted pleasure in your pain. "Oh, that's rich. Love? You're really naive. This was never about love. It was about teaching you a lesson. You have no right to mess with me or anyone else with your kind!" You couldn't take it anymore. You turned and ran, your sobs echoing through the park. Natasha watched you go, feeling a cruel satisfaction. She had fulfilled her plan, proving she had control.

But as days passed, Natasha found herself constantly revisiting your conversations, reliving the memories of your shared moments. The photos, the laughter, the intimate moments haunted her. Every message, every smile in the photos brought a sting of regret and doubt.

She noticed a change in the people around her. Tony, who was usually so friendly and outgoing, seemed to avoid her. The usual camaraderie felt strained, and Natasha's frustration grew. One day, unable to bear it any longer, Natasha confronted him. "Hey, Stark, what's your problem?"

Tony's face darkened with anger. "My problem? What's your problem, Natasha? Why did you hurt Y/n so badly?" Natasha's anger flared. "What are you talking about? You and Y/n must find someone else for your games. I'm done being your pawn."

Tony's eyes blazed with fury. "Games? What are you talking about? Y/n never played games! She was in love with you, and you broke her heart for no reason!"

Natasha felt a chill run down her spine. "What?" Tony stepped closer, his voice trembling with anger. "You heard me. She loved you, Natasha. She was head over heels for you. Why would you think otherwise?!"

Natasha felt the ground shift beneath her feet. "But...No! You both scheme against everyone!"

Tony's eyes widened with realization. "Natasha, you got it all wrong.. Y/n is sincere. Have you ever heard anything negative from her? Do you think someone like her would betray anyone? Come on! She’s been devastated since the breakup."

Natasha's breath caught as Tony's words sank in. The pieces fell into place, and she realized the truth. Your tears, your heartbreak, your love..it had all been real.

"Oh my God.." Natasha whispered, her voice trembling. "What have I done?" Tony looked at her with a mix of pity and disappointment. "You messed up, Natasha. Big time."

Natasha's mind raced, guilt and regret overwhelming her. She had been so blinded by her own insecurities and assumptions that she had destroyed the one real thing she had. Now she had to find a way to fix it.

One afternoon, she saw you walking with Kate outside the school. Natasha hurried after you, calling your name. "Y/n! Wait, please!" You stopped, your face hardening as you saw Natasha approaching. Kate looked between you, sensing the tension. "What do you want, Natasha?" Kate asked, her voice icy.

"Kate, please stay out of this. I need to talk to her!" Natasha said, desperation in her voice.But Kate tried to protect you. "I think you've said enough. Leave her alone."

Natasha's eyes flashed with determination. She gently but firmly pushed Kate aside and stepped closer to you. Your eyes filled with tears. "There's nothing to talk about. You made it very clear how you feel."

"No, you don't understand!" Natasha pleaded, her heart aching. "I was wrong.. I thought you and Tony were playing me..Like hes doing with everyone. I was stupid and paranoid."

Your tears began to flow, your voice shaking. "You were wrong? You hurt me, Natasha. You made me feel like I was worthless."

"I'm so sorry.." Natasha said, her voice breaking. "I know I hurt you, and I regret it every second. Please, Y/n, give me a chance to make it right." Your face contorted with pain and anger. "Make it right? You think you can just apologize, and everything will be okay? You humiliated me, Natasha! You laughed at my pain!!"

Natasha tried to take your hand, but you slapped it away. "Don't touch me!" you spat, your voice raw with emotion. "You can't just walk back into my life like nothing happened!"

"Please, Y/n. " Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I love you." Your face twisted in pain and disbelief. "You don't know what love is." you said, your voice breaking.

Natasha's heart shattered at your words. "I was wrong. I didn't mean any of it. I was just scared...Please..." You shook your head, more tears streaming down your cheeks. "No, Natasha. You can't undo what you've done. You hurt me more than anyone else ever has."

"Y/n-" Your face hardened as you raised your hand and slapped Natasha across the face. "Stay away from me." you sobbed. Natasha stood there, stunned and devastated, as you walked away with Kate. She watched you go, her heart breaking into a thousand pieces. She had hoped for a chance to make things right, but now she was faced with the harsh reality of her actions.

Days passed, and Natasha found it increasingly difficult to focus on anything. She was a wreck at her games, her usual confidence and precision gone. She kept looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were never there. Your absence was a constant reminder of her mistake, gnawing at her every day. Her teammates noticed the change, but Natasha couldn't bring herself to explain. She went through the motions, but her heart wasn't in it. She missed you more than she could express, and the guilt gnawed at her relentlessly.

She replayed the memories in her mind over and over again, the laughter, the kisses, the moments of pure bliss. She went through her old messages, the photos they had taken together, each one a stab to her heart. She had lost something precious, something real, and she didn't know how to live with it.

Her teammates tried to reach out to her, but she pushed them away, unable to face their sympathy. She felt she didn't deserve their pity. She deserved nothing but the pain she felt. Every day was a struggle, and every night she lay awake, her thoughts tormented by you. The guilt was unbearable, and the loneliness suffocating. She had made the worst mistake of her life, and now she had to pay the price.

One day, Natasha sat alone in the locker room after another disappointing game. She knew she needed a plan, something that would prove her sincerity and dedication. An idea began to form in her mind. It was risky and would require a lot of effort, but she was determined. She would plan something special, something that would show you how much you meant to her.

Meanwhile, you tried to move on. Kate and Tony had been supporting you, but your heart was still broken. You avoided places where you might encounter Natasha, but the memories of your time together haunted you. You missed Natasha, but the pain of betrayal was still fresh. One day, as you walked through the schoolyard, you saw Tony flirting with a girl. The familiar sight of Tony's flirtatious behavior made your stomach turn. You knew what he was doing, just proving his conquest list again. Anger boiled inside you, and you marched up to him.

"Tony!" you called, drawing his attention to you. He turned around, surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/n. What's up-" Without warning, you slapped him hard. "This is all your fault! Because of you, Natasha thought I was just playing with her!"

The girl Tony was talking to looked shocked and quickly walked away. Tony rubbed his cheek, wincing in pain. "Y/N, what the hell?!"

Your eyes filled with tears. "You and Bucky have such a terrible reputation, and it cost me the only person who really mattered to me. Natasha thought I was just like you because of your stupid games!" Tony's face softened as he saw the pain in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know..."

"Just stay away from me," you hissed, turning to walk away, leaving Tony feeling guilty.

More days passed, and you continued to avoid Natasha. You ignored the countless messages she sent you, each one a plea for a chance to explain, to make things right. Your phone buzzed constantly with new texts:

"Y/n, please, talk to me."

"I was wrong, and I'm so sorry."

"I miss you..."

"Please don't shut me out."

Your resolve weakened with each message, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond. You were too hurt, too confused. One afternoon, someone convinced you to attend one of Natasha's games. "Just see for yourself how much she's struggling."

Reluctantly, you agreed. You sat in the stands, trying to keep your emotions in check as you watched the game. When you saw Natasha take the field, a sharp pain shot through your chest. The sight of everyone cheering for Natasha, unaware of the turmoil between you, made your wounds ache even more.

It was clear that Natasha wasn't her usual confident self. She made mistakes, seemed distracted, and looked miserable. Her coach was furious, yelling at her from the sidelines. "Romanoff! What the hell!! Focus now!" he shouted. The situation worsened when Natasha was tackled hard, causing the crowd to gasp in shock. She lay on the ground for a moment before getting up and trudging off the field, leaving her team behind.

She sat alone in the room, her head in her hands again. She felt empty and lost, completely broken. She went through the motions, showering off the sweat and dirt from the game, but the hot water couldn't wash away the guilt clinging to her. As she stepped out of the shower, her phone buzzed with a new message. You had finally responded:

"Fine. Let's talk. But don't expect much."

Natasha's heart leaped with hope. She quickly dried off, her fingers trembling as she replied, setting a time and place for your meeting.

When you arrived at the park, you were surprised to see that it had been decorated with fairy lights and flowers. Natasha stood there looking nervous and hopeful. "Hi." Natasha began, her voice trembling. "Thank you for coming."

Yoy crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. "What is this?"

"This is me trying to make things right.." Natasha said, stepping closer. "I know I hurt you, and i know I don't deserve another chance, but I'm begging you to hear me out."

Your eyes were wary, but you nodded for Natasha to continue You crossed your arms, your expression guarded. "You have five minutes." Natasha took a deep breath. "I know I messed everything up. I let my fears and insecurities take control. Tony's and Bucky's reputation made me paranoid, and I thought you were playing me just like they would. I was so wrong, and I'm so, so sorry."

Your eyes softened slightly, but you remained cautious. "I understand why you were wary because of Tony and Bucky, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me the same way."

"I know!" Natasha said quickly, her voice full of remorse. "I should have trusted you. I should have known you were different. I'm so sorry.." You took a deep breath, your emotions swirling. "You broke my heart, Natasha. How can I trust you again?"

"I know it will take time," Natasha said, pleading. "But I'm willing to wait. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. Please, Y/n, give me a chance..please.."

You looked into Natasha's eyes, searching for signs of dishonesty. All you saw was genuine remorse and.. love. You stepped closer, your resolve softening. "This doesn't mean everything is okay. It will take time, and you have to prove yourself."

Natasha nodded, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, of course. I'll do anything! Whatever it takes.." You glanced around the park, how much love Natasha put in it. "We'll start slow. Step by step."

A wave of relief and hope washed over Natasha as she held your hand. "Thank you, Y/n. I won't let you down. Thank you."

In the following weeks, Natasha worked hard to rebuild your relationship. She showed up for you in every possible way, being patient and understanding. You spent time together, talked through your issues, and began to heal slowly. It wasn't easy, and there were many ups and downs, but Natasha's sincerity and dedication shone through. You began to trust her again, and your bond grew stronger than before.

One day, as Natasha walked you home after school, she held your hand and smiled at you. "I have a surprise for you." she said with a mysterious smile. "What is it?" you asked, curiosity piqued, your heart beating faster.

"You'll see.." Natasha replied, leading you to a small dance studio nearby. "I know how important dancing is to you, and I wanted to do something special."

She opened the door to reveal the room reserved just for the two of you. The studio was softly lit, and gentle music played in the corner. You were speechless, overwhelmed with surprise and emotion. "Natasha... This is... How did you do this?"

"Someone owed me something.." Natasha said gently. "I thought we could dance together... Even though I don't really know how."

You couldn't help but laugh, and you spent the evening dancing together. Natasha might not have been the best dancer, but she tried, and you could see the sincerity and love in every movement. You laughed, stumbled, and simply enjoyed the time together.

After the dance, you sat down, Natasha holding your hand and looking deep into your eyes. "Y/n, I know I hurt you, but I promise I will never disappoint you again. I love you more than anything."

You smiled and squeezed her hand. "I love you too, Natasha. Thank you for never giving up." With time, trust, and patience, Natasha and you rebuilt your relationship stronger than ever. You both learned from your mistakes, grew together, and created a bond that nothing could break. The pain of the past slowly faded, replaced by a love that was real.

[wildrangers]

Hello i see you're accepting fic requests, i have a matt smith fic idea, can u do a behind the scenes w matt and fem!reader where they are both married in real life but they're rivals on cam, and when the scene cuts they're like all lovey dovey and their castmates are always teasing them 💟 tysmmm!!!

Thank you so much for this request anon, I loved this idea! I created an OC HOTD character for the reader to play and kind of worked her into different key moments from the show. I hope you enjoy 🙂

Tropes & Topics: total fluff

Word Count: 900

“What would you call the husband of the Queen?”

“Well, the king-”

“There it is, then.”

“...consort” 

Your eyes met Daemon’s, fury coursing through your veins. His head tilted, eyes assessing you. “That seems redundant, no?”

“I speak for the Queen when I say it is not.” 

There was a long pause as you two stared each other down before “CUT! Good work you two.”

“Darling! You were stupendous” Matt praised, walking towards you with his arms raised. Mostly joking groans sounded from the crew around you. “Oh, stop it you lot.”

“I always forget how angry you make me when you have that fucking wig on” you tease, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly. 

“I could say the same to you, my love” he chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your silver wig.

Your role on House of the Dragon was Anora, a close confidant and cousin of Rhaenyra. Given your character’s fierce loyalty to Rhaenyra, she shared a tense, often hostile, relationship with Daemon which you two delighted in playing as it was so opposed to your real-life dynamics as newlyweds. 

“Are you love birds ready for lunch now that you’ve terrorized the crew?” Emma’s voice called from behind Matt and you threw a grin their way. 

“Are they up to it again?” Harry seconded from behind them. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to” you argued and Matt chuckled beside you, his arm resting along your shoulders as you followed the pair off the studio lot. 

“Oh, so you don’t remember the post-wedding incident?” Emma posed and you felt your face warm as the memory flooded your mind. 

“Wed?! Laenor has just died!” you shouted, whipping around to face your best friend and her apparent new husband. 

“No, cousin, he’s not dead. We arranged it so he could be free and we could marry” Rhaenyra explained and your eyes widened. 

“You let our monstrous uncle convince you of this?!” 

“Watch your tongue” Daemon replied, eyes blazing.

“Or what?” 

“Or I’ll take it.”

You took out the dagger you kept hidden on your side, “Well come on then, Daemon. You don’t frighten me.” 

“Enough!” Rhaenyra screamed, stepping between you both. “Cousin, this was my decision he forced me to do nothing. He wants to better support my claim to the throne when the time inevitably comes.” 

“He will be your ruin, Rhaenyra. Mark my words.”

“CUT! I think we got it guys, take five.” 

“My fierce wife!” Matt cheered, picking you up and swinging you around as you laughed. 

“Must you do this every take?” the director questioned, earning laughs from the cast and crew on set. 

“Am I wrong? She was incredible” he praised, placing you down and lovingly straightening the wig he’d disheveled in his excitement. 

“Yes, yes, your wife is brilliant and we’re all lucky to be graced with her presence” Emma teased and you stuck your tongue out at them. 

“The most brilliant one of us is you, my love” you tell him and are met with another chorus of groans as you giggle and squeeze his hand in yours.

“Oh! And you can’t forget the birthing scene from last season’s finale, that one was iconic.” Harry added and Emma eagerly nodded their agreement.

Rhaenyra wailed from the bedchamber behind you as you charged after Daemon. “What are you doing Daemon? She needs you!” 

“She needs someone to prepare for war, I can do nothing for her in that room.” 

“She’s calling for you Daemon, not me! She doesn’t want you to act on her behalf, just to be her husband.” 

“I am your king now!” he roared, turning around so quickly you slammed into his chest, his hands gripping your shoulders painfully to keep you upright.

“You overstep Daemon. You are no more than her king consort” you replied, adjusting your stance and fighting the wince of pain wracking your system.

Matt’s face completely broke, false anger draining from it, “Love, are you alright? I’m sorry everyone but she’s injured, we have to cut.” 

“Matt, it’s fine I could have finished the scene” you insisted but your argument fell flat as your ankle rolled out from beneath you. 

He didn’t hesitate, one arm gripping under your knees, the other under your arms to lift you off your feet. “Where’s the medic?!” 

“Matthew, it’s a twisted ankle, not a mortal wound” you assured but his face was panicked. “Hey, look at me” you said firmly, hand cupping his cheek. His hazel eyes met yours and you could see him fighting to control his fear that you were seriously injured. 

“I’m not putting you down until someone’s looked at your ankle” he insisted and you nodded your agreement. “I’m so, so sorry darling.”

“It was an accident, I’m fine, I promise” you replied, pulling his face down to yours for a brief kiss. 

“We have to release this as a blooper, the fans will eat it up!” you heard Emma call as Matt carried you off set towards the medic tent with the cameras still rolling.

“How could we forget? It went absolutely viral” Matt groaned and you laughed, pinching his side.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get charged with spousal abuse” you tease and he rolls his eyes as the others laugh. 

“Keep it going, I’ll just save up my annoyance with you for when we’re back on set.”

matt smith taglist: @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover

I'm always happy to hear any feedback, message me if you want to get added to the taglist! I have a few more asks waiting that will be out soon 🫶🏻

[brujaluas]

things you don't see in yourself

everthing about my paid readings and spells

pile 1

You are a loving and inclusive person but you end up not paying much attention to it because you don't find it attractive, perhaps you like to wear a lot of dark clothes and don't give the chance to colorful clothes because you think your body won't look good in certain colors when it would look good. Yes, believe me, you are also a very delicate person, you look and behave like a doll, your feet are attractive in some way, perhaps the way you walk, like the grace of a ballerina, with a lightness and delicacy.

pile 2

oh I feel like you are a mystical person, you might like crystals and the occult, and some people notice that and find you attractive, as if you were a dreamer, a poet, someone who if given a paper and a pen will write a story in 5 minutes, you are a very enlightened person, something in you shines for others, you are also very embraced by the universe, don't be afraid to ask the universe or beings for help, embrace your spirituality, you don't see the shine you have , be allowed.

pile 3

I tried to do two readings, the first one gave a mixed reaction, some of you are going through deep emotional exhaustion, an open wound or a betrayal that hurt you, I hope everything gets better soon, I really hope and care.

people with this reading do well in business, and in their ideas, you have a kind of leader inside you, you have boss material, you know how to give brilliant ideas, you think with your own head, you have a diplomatic personality, any career that choose there is a highlight for you, allow yourself to praise yourself from time to time and see that yes, you are a very intelligent person.

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[maelancoli]

i cannot stress enough how important it is to write at your own pace. to give your mind and spirit room to breathe, to process your creativity and allow it to come organically to you. goals and discipline are a good and necessary part of any hobby, especially writing, but so is rest. rest prevents burn out. and if you push yourself until you burn out you will wind up taking even longer to complete projects or meet goals. even if you are already burnt out that's okay. this is your sign to give yourself the grace to take breaks. your story, your muses, your brilliant ideas will be waiting for you to pick them up with proper enthusiasm when you're ready.

[cuddleprofiler]

AN AFTERNOON AT HOME - A rare noon where you & Hotch are home

Word Count: 1.8k approx

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Thanks @ssa-dado for giving the idea that ended up being the inspiration for this fic. Positive Criticism is welcomed.

The aroma of food distracted you from your interesting book, making you get lost in the amazing aroma coming from the kitchen of your and Aaron's shared apartment. You swear this man has magic in his hands! The level of cooking he achieves can put even the most brilliant chefs to shame, including his own brother, Sean. You have been to many restaurants around here and in your hometown, but aside from your parents, no one has come so close to touching your heart with their cooking.

You closed your eyes and inhaled the scent, and before you realize it, a smile has automatically graced your face. What you didn't realize was that Aaron was watching you, alternating between stirring pots and stealing glances your way. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your soft smile before he returned his focus to the task at hand.

Slowly, you stood up, eyes now open. After placing a bookmark in your book, you moved toward the kitchen where your dashing boyfriend was preparing lunch. You stood at the threshold, marvelling at the man who was the Unit Chief of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, responsible for profiling notorious killers. He often maintained a serious demeanour, grumpy and stern in his professional life—but look at him now.

Moving into the kitchen with such ease, he bounced on his steps as he danced to the soft music he had set up. The volume was perfectly set for a cosy afternoon with your loved one. While he was busy, he bobbed his head lightly to the rhythm of the song.

His dark brown hair, always kept neat and perfect, now had some unkempt strands that bounced with him, making him look younger. They moved rhythmically with each motion, catching the light and adding an effortless charm to his every step. The tousled waves flowed around his face, framing it with a playful energy that was rare in your professions. Also, his stress-free demeanour always made him look young.

You tiptoed into the kitchen, as quietly as possible, aware of his big ears that could hear everything within a hundred meters. You stood right behind him and snuck your arms around his waist, burying your face in his back.

“So, what are you making for lunch?”

Your voice came out slightly muffled and soft, but Hotch understood you perfectly.

He turned you around gently and hugged you, burying his head in your hair and inhaling the fragrance of your shampoo that made you uniquely you. He smiled into your hair. When he pulled back lightly, still keeping his arms looped around your lower back, you looked up at him.

“It’s a grilled cheese sandwich, egg salad, sushi, and tomato soup—your favorite,” he said proudly.

He lifted you onto the counter while continuing his culinary endeavours. You frowned and shot him a playful glare. Feeling your gaze, he looked up and returned your glare with an innocent smile. You couldn't help but smile back at his antics. If anyone from the team saw this side of him, you’d definitely have to call an ambulance—for Pen and Morgan, without a doubt!

“You should have made your favourite too,” you said, pouting at his habit of putting you first.

“My favourite is you. Besides, I can eat anything,” he replied cheerfully.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to.”

“When I cook, I promise to make all your favourites,” you said after a moment.

Aaron snorted. “I appreciate the sentiment, honey, but I’m not letting you cook in my kitchen. No way.”

“Why not?” you asked, confusion lacing your tone.

“Do I need to remind you of all the disasters you’ve caused in this kitchen?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure even criminals wouldn’t have suffered as much in jail as you have in this poor kitchen,” he added playfully.

You lightly swatted his chest.

“Ow! That hurt,” he said, feigning injury while dramatically rubbing his chest.

“It was meant to,” you replied with a laugh.

You took the plates after he set them up perfectly, as he liked to do. Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile this version of him with the serious professional you saw at work, but you both craved this normalcy in your lives.

Sometimes, cases hit too close to home. The relentless stream of tragic news can overwhelm even the strongest souls. After hearing the details, all you felt was a chilling numbness settling in your chest, growing into something deeper than you cared to admit. It often left you drifting away from your surroundings into a darkness that expanded with the horrors you had witnessed.

In those moments, you longed for a sense of normalcy like that of civilians, something to ground you. You yearned for good memories, moments that could lift you from the shadows. You gently shook your head when you felt Aaron sit next to you on the couch.

“You really love this movie,” he remarked, glancing at the screen.

“Not more than you.”

“You must have seen it at least a thousand times,” he said, waiting for you to queue it up so you could begin lunch.

“Yeah, but it’s just so good.”

“Even if she's a bit?”

“Yeah—no, not that part! But the way Laney and Zach look at each other and care for one another just melts my heart. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME!” you exclaimed enthusiastically.

“Okay, okay,” he said, laughing lightly.

After finishing lunch, you and Aaron settled back on the couch, watching the remainder of the movie while cuddling. He ran his fingers through your hair, tucking stray strands behind your ears. Your fingers clutched the fabric of his t-shirt as your head rested on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Hey, I’ll be in my office for a bit,” he said, attempting to extricate himself from your hold.

“Today is a day off, Hotch. Relax! You always stress over these things,” you replied in a playful tone, refusing to let him go.

“Don’t call me Hotch at home, sweetheart.” He chuckled at your habit of using his last name at home and his first name at work.

“It slipped! I swear it’s second nature to call you that.”

“Then it should be something you call me the least.”

“What should I call you, then?”

“How about ‘My Man’?” he teased, knowing well that you had saved that name for him in your phone.

“How do you know about that?” you asked, puzzled, as a smile grew on your face seeing his. No one knows about this except the girls who saw it on girls' night when you were too drunk to hide it. They have teased you since then mercilessly.

“I have my ways.”

When he came out of the office, or “cave” as you liked to call it, he was met with a mesmerizing sight. He smiled softly and moved toward you to observe your beautiful and happy face more. He would be lying if he said he could get enough of it. This lifetime will be less for that, he mused in his head.

You were lying on your side, breathing softly. Curled up on the couch, you looked peaceful, your soft features illuminated by the warm glow of the afternoon sun. Your hair cascaded over the cushions in loose waves, a few strands falling delicately across your face. You looked so free that it warmed his heart. The gentle rise and fall of your chest added to the serene atmosphere.

He placed your hand, which was falling off the sofa, on your stomach and moved you to be more comfortable. He then got under the blanket covering you and slid his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to him. He kissed your cheek as you turned around and nuzzled your face into his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent and falling asleep, thinking about him.

When he woke, the room was dim, indicating it was late. He glanced at you, still sleeping peacefully.

“Honey, wake up,” he said, running his hand gently up and down your forearm.

“Wake up. It’s evening!” he tried again, knowing how much you loved to sleep.

“I’m tired.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Okay, I want to sleep.”

“Get up! You can sleep later,” he urged, offering a compromise; otherwise, you might miss dinner.

You resisted getting up, but Aaron wasn’t letting you go. You tried shifting in the other direction, but he always pulled you back. You also didn’t like the cold sensation that came with moving away from him.

“Don’t give me that grumpy face. You say it’s my job to do that.”

“Aaron…”

You slowly opened your eyes, and the first thing you saw was Hotch, his chocolate brown eyes looking sleepily at you. His hair was a tousled mess, strands sticking out in all directions, creating an unruly halo around his head. The usually sleek locks were now slightly tousled and frizzy, giving him a charming, boyish look. A few stubborn curls fell across his forehead, remnants of sleep clinging to the tips, adding to his dishevelled appeal.

You smiled brightly and kissed him on the nose; he looked so cute that you couldn’t resist. You kissed him again and again on the nose and cheeks until you heard his rare laughter ringing out, making you laugh in joy as well.

Now, after dinner, you both lay on the lawn, stargazing. Well, you were stargazing while Hotch’s whole focus was on you. You shared facts about constellations and stars, drawing from your own knowledge and Spencer’s insightful talks.

“And that’s Procyon. It’s located in the constellation Canis Minor,” you said, pointing at the sky.

“You know, love, Spencer told me it was known as the Dog Star of Canis Minor in ancient times, complementing Sirius, the Dog Star of Canis Major,” you added, rambling excitedly about your love for stars.

“It’s amazing how everything has such meaningful names. What do you think?” you asked, turning to him. You expected him to be looking at the sky, but instead, his gaze was fixed on you. You could feel your breaths mingling, making you a little dizzy. Your eyes locked, and with every second, you felt more lost in the depths of each other's eyes.

“I think you’re beautiful,” he finally said, his gaze unwavering.

“And?”

“And the moonlight highlights your already captivating features.”

“And?”

“I want to kiss you,” he admitted, a hint of longing in his voice.

“What’s stopping you?” you challenged playfully.

Under the soft glow of outdoor lights illuminating both your faces, Hotch leaned in and captured your lips. The kiss was tender and soft, a reminder of the life you shared outside the chaos. It felt like a gentle breeze heralding the beginning of winter. He cradled your face as your hands danced along his jawline, leaving you both grinning as if you had uncovered something extraordinary. In that moment, you were wrapped in intimacy and joy, cocooned from the outside world, envisioning an infinite future together.

[katakaluptastrophy]

You know how it goes: through some incredible circumstances, God and a young woman living under the shadow of an oppressive empire have a metaphysically unusual baby who grows up to be a general nuisance, won't stay dead, and sports a few additional holes...

It's the third Sunday of Advent and I'm a little concerned Bible studies for weird goth kids might be turning into a series... Let's talk about the Blessed Virgin Mary and Commander Awake Remembrance of These Valiant Dead Kia Hua Ko Te Pai Snap Back to Reality Oops There Goes Gravity.

Wake was probably never described as "gentle", "meek", or "mild", but there are a few similarities: distinctive outfits, snazzy shrines, commitment to putting down the mighty from their seats, and of course babies with great and terrible destinies niftily conceived without sex.

On the topic of conception, let's clear up a common, uh, misconception: the term "immaculate conception" does not refer to Mary becoming pregnant with Jesus. It's Mary's own conception.

Why are we talking about how Mary was conceived and what does this have to do with lesbian necromancers?

To answer that question, we have to go back further still, way before Mary's conception. Back to these guys and their unfortunate snack cravings:

Remember how last time we talked about the concept of being in a state of grace? Well, the Christian read on Adam and Eve is that a state of grace was, as it were, the factory setting for humanity. They were fully in tune with God, there was no sickness or death, there was no sin. Until, that is, the whole unfortunate business with the apple. The first sin. The world is fundamentally altered. Humanity is expelled from paradise, burdened with sin, death, disease, patriarchy, and work. Worse, this sinful human nature turns out to be sexually transmissible: every human being is born tainted by this "original sin" of Adam and Eve.

This is why Catholicism is so big on baptising babies: even if they're many years off being able to commit any sins themselves (a sin has to be something consciously chosen and understood), they're still contaminated by that original sin of Adam and Eve. Baptism is understood to erase original sin, wiping the slate clean.

Bear with me, we'll be back to necromancers soon I promise. Have a picture of Mary beating up the devil while an angel holds baby Jesus:

OK, but what does Adam and Eve's danger snack have to do with Mary's conception?

The "immaculate conception" refers to the idea that unlike every human being between Adam and Jesus, Mary was conceived without the contamination of original sin. The rationale for this is complex, but essentially boils down to something like the saving power of Jesus not being bound by piffling things like time and space and thus saving his mother before her own conception and allowing himself to also be conceived and born sinless.

But the important bit is that something specific about Mary means that she is uniquely able to be pregnant with Jesus.

You may be starting to guess where this is going...

Because while unconventional pregnancy seems to have been the plan from the get-go for Jesus, it was not with the artist formerly known as The Bomb:

“I had the baby,” said Wake. “The baby I’d had to incubate myself for nine long fucking months, when the foetal dummies these two gave me died.”

“Oh, God, it was yours,” said Augustine, in horror. “I thought you’d used in vitro on one of Mercy’s—”

“I said they all died,” said Wake. “The dummies died. The ova died. Only the sample was still active, no idea how considering it was twelve weeks after the fact, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“So you used it on yourself,” said Augustine. “Anything for the revolution, eh, Wake?”

We have to assume the foetal dummies plan was hatched by Mercymorn, a brilliant scientist with a myriad of experience. If the problem encountered by Wake were as simple as Lyctoral infertility, I suspect Mercy would have spotted that long before.

But what do Wake and John have in common that Mercymorn or any of the other ova-having residents of the Mithraeum did not? They are both (to some extent at least) factory setting humans: unlike everyone else in the Dominicus system, they never died and were resurrected, nor are they the descendants people who were. John's abilities, while macabre, are not straightforwardly the necromancy otherwise practiced in the Houses. That necromancy is a direct result of one specific act of taking that resulted in the very nature of the world changing: a thanergetic system, inhabited by human beings who, necromancer or not, are fundamentally tainted by thanergy and by the after effects of that action of John's. You might call it a sin. An indelible sin. He does.

It's not an exact parallel, but necromancy certainly occupies a space not dissimilar to original sin: the result of a single action, tainting every descendant of its progenitors regardless of their actions of abilities.

And then enter Gideon, born in space away from the thanergetic energy of the Dominicus system to a mother lacking the 10,000 year intergenerational burden of the resurrection and necromancy. The child of Jod, born to die.

[artyandink]

Five-Star

Summary: You’ve been dating Dean Winchester, which is nothing short of a fever dream. A brilliant fever dream. But when you decide to test him on how much he wants you, you don’t get the answer you expected to have.

A/N - Welcome to the Karak Chaii-verse! I had an idea to write Dean with an Indian POC, since I’m one myself. Creds to @zepskies and her brilliant Midnight Espresso-verse, and you should definitely check that out. This is a small drabble that I thought up.

Your family had moved to the US around a year after you were born. That’s because the monsters in India were far more dangerous than in America due to the origination of them from the depths of Indian mythology, such as a rakshasa or arunasura, but you found that here was far more escalated.

At least, you’d found out when you met the Winchesters.

You came from a long line of crazy good Indian hunters, so you were already a great one yourself. Back in India, your parents would pose as part of the CBI, but you had to resort to finding someone who could make you a believable FBI badge once you turned eighteen and got into hunting solo, which was around 1997. There you met Bobby Singer, who hooked you up with what he called the ‘All-American Hunting Kit’, which consisted of an array of fake IDs and a lore book. You were glad your training, done by your dad, was done by the intensity of monsters in India rather than here, otherwise it’d be harder to get by.

On a hunt for a vampire and wraith hybrid in Grant Pass, Oregon, you came across the Winchesters, the shorter of the two having dubbed the hybrid ‘Jefferson Starships’. That man was Dean, and you were taken by his charming, goofy attitude that switched to an attractive sort of intensity when faced with imminent danger. You just didn’t expect ‘imminent danger’ to be the mother of all monsters.

Once your parents had found out that you were hanging out with the Winchesters, who were at the centre of any and all supernatural trouble in America, they sent you a thousand calls telling you to get your ass out of there before you got killed. You being you, you didn’t listen. Not when you knew that you’d get withdrawal symptoms from not seeing the million dollar smile of Dean Winchester, which quickly won you over (and his lips too, which knew damn well what they were doing).

As for Sam, you quickly saw him as your little brother figure, who also helped you manage your unruly hair by recommending the right hair products that you now had stocked up. You’d both nerd over monsters, you’d tell him about all the ones you’d encountered in India while Sam told you stories about all that he and his brother had gone through.

Which was no less than a lot. And you thought India was a harder place to live, by what your parents told you. Here there’s the friggin’ Apocalypse.

Dean was obviously your favourite Winchester. He’d told you he really liked you about two years and a half after you met amid averting eyes and stammered words as he spewed compliment after compliment, standing there in the Bunker’s kitchen like a nervous melon in his grey robe, black shorts with hot dogs on them and black undershirt with fuzzy hair.

You’d cut his nervous ramblings off by pulling him in by the lapel of his robe, lips puckered in surprise as they met yours as the tangy taste of cherry and sweet, buttery pie crust flooded your taste buds and even more so when Dean quickly took control of the kiss, hands tangling in your hair and grabbing at soft curves like his life depended on it.

One thing Dean loved about you was your cooking. Your mom had taught you a wide array of Indian dishes that you could cook, and the moment the first bite of your rajma and rice graced Dean’s mouth, it was hook, line and sinker. You’d taught him how to eat chole bhature, roti and sabzi and which masala was which so he could know what the hell did you put to make him fall for you over and over again.

You were scrolling on your YouTube shorts one day when you came across a video of a woman asking her husband what his favourite snack was to see if he’d say her or not. You didn’t look like the definition of a snack right now, with your unwashed hair tied up in a bun that your mom taught you to do with no hair tie whatsoever in grey sweatpants, Dean’s undershirt and fuzzy mismatched socks, but you decided to try it out anyway as Dean came into the bunker’s living room, approaching you from behind with a delicate yet possessive cup of your chin and a kiss to your temple.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He greeted in that low voice of his that was effortlessly seductive even when he wasn’t trying, his hand sliding down to comfortingly rub over your chest and shoulder as he passed by. “Doin’ ok?” He sat down beside you, arm around your shoulder as his fingers began to play with your hair, warm green eyes trained on you.

You nodded, setting your phone aside. “Doing alright, yeah.” Then you decided to try out the question. “Dil, what’s your favourite snack?” You called Dean dil sometimes because it meant heart in Hindi, and he had yours.

The question got a chuckle out of him as he jerked his head to the right in amusement. “Awh, sweet girl, that’s hardly fair. I’d say beef jerky, but that new thing you, uh, introduced me to really raised the bar.” His brow furrowed in thought for a moment in contrast to the large grin on his face. “The aloo whatzitsname.”

“Aloo lachha.” You corrected with a giggle, barely holding back the urge to say what the answer was.

“Yeah, that. Or, uh, pie, but that’s a dessert and not a snack. Maybe that rajma stuff, but that’s a meal.” He continued rambling on any and all snacks he’d added to his palette since meeting you, until a bout of laughter from you slowed his roll. “What? What’s so funny, huh?”

“So… your favourite snack isn’t me.” You teased with a smirk, which got the cogs in his head turning. “You failed, sorry, honey.”

The words got a raise of his eyebrow and a slow and subtle roving of his eyes down your body and a bite of his lip. To him, you looked absolutely delicious. Like the best thing at a five star restaurant.

He stood up with a low grunt, facing you before grabbing you by your hips, hoisting you up so fast that you had to wrap your sweatpant-clad legs around his waist with a small shriek. “See, baby, that’s where you’re wrong.”

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that bordered on reverence and somehow the intention to devour at the same time, which had you moaning already. His tongue slipped into your mouth, briefly getting a taste and giving you the distinct flavour of the aloo chaat you had made for lunch mixed with beer before he pulled back and nipped your bottom lip, groaning at the feeling of your fingers now tugging at his hair.

“You…” Dean paused for a breath and a low chuckle, staring at you hungrily. “You are the whole damn buffet.”

TAGLIST:

@k-slla @hobby27 @supernatural-jackles

[otakubimbo]

Mansplain

Miguel isn't good at flirting, but that should be obvious shouldn't it?

 Miguel’s first attempt at flirting with you was actually the first time the two of you met. He had arrived in your dimension because there was an anomaly there, but by the time he had appeared, you had just finished capturing the sandman anomaly. He was impressed, to say the least by your skills. The way you webbed through the air, you were graceful yet powerful. It was as if nothing could stop you, the calculation of your attacks the sandman didn’t stand a chance. He barely even registered your speed as you came down in front of him.

“And you are?” You ask viewing him with reasonable wariness, you could tell that he was at least somewhat like you.

“I am the head of the arachno humanoid poly multiverse” He states matter of factly as if you should have already known that. The sentence almost makes you giggle.

“So, you mean the spider people multiverse” You take your mask off, shaking your coils out now realizing that he’s probably not a foe and really is just like you. “That’s cute”

At that Miguel almost becomes a stuttering fool if he could even speak, you were beyond beautiful. Your smile gave a brightness that could rival the sun.

“Well, that could be said in layman's terms but I’m more technical.” He finally gets out after feeling like he wasn’t able to breathe, de-digitizing his mask so you can see his face. You giggle at that; he was very handsome but he seemed a bit awkward. Miguel knows that he may never want to hear anything else besides that for the rest of his life.

“Yeah, I see that so what are you doing here, in my universe?” you question, putting a hand on your hip. You had already assumed it was for whatever you just took down, he kept calling for people that you had no clue about.

“Well, if you must know,” He begins “This is a sandman anomaly which seems to not be a cannon event in your universe. And it is our job as the arachnoid humanoid poly-multiverse group that take care of these types of situations. This is why I am here to take this one back, so the multiverse does not collide. It is essential to keep the universe safe” he goes on and on about the society he created.

His appearance didn’t give the type of man to ramble on like this, but. The idea was actually something that you wanted to get behind and when you questioned if you could join, Miguel thought his heart would stop. He assumed he was wooing you with his words but truthfully, you just had a big heart, and it broke yours to think about the loss of other universes.

And that is how you ended up in the spider society, working extremely close to Miguel because once he found out that not only were you a skilled spider fighting wise, but you were also absolutely brilliant. You had such a mind for science that rivaled his own and your enthusiasm had him captivated when you talked about the research you were doing on society’s behalf.

Everything about working for the spider society brought you joy. Expect, for one thing, Miguel. At first, you thought working with him was going to be amazing. He was smart and driven, you could tell his passion from the moment you met him. But now every encounter with him is insufferable. Any given moment that the two of you are working on something he always makes a note to mansplain everything, as if he didn’t himself ask for your assistance. Initially, you thought it was just adjusting to working alongside someone else; everyone in the society was surprised that he even asked for your assistance. As time went on though, it was as if he doubted your intelligence which pissed you off and confused you since he would constantly ask for your opinion or assign you tasks that he would usually take on himself. Every task he assigned you was completed expertly, and every repair he asked you to manage, was done efficiently. And yet, when it came down to you working on things he would make his way over without fail to over-explain everything to you. You didn’t know how much longer you were going to be able to take it.

Now here you were eating lunch with Jess, rubbing your temples from the headache that Miguel gave you earlier from explaining how the multiverse works AGAIN.

“I truly don’t know what his deal is, Jess” you groan putting your head down on the table hoping the cold metal will relieve some of the tension from your head. “Why ask for my help if he is going to micromanage me the whole time?! And according to everyone, he doesn’t even ask people for help so why ask me?!? Next time I am just going to tell him to do it himself.”

Jess just giggles at your frustrations, causing you to groan. She was finding humor in your suffering. The two of you had grown close to each other since you first entered the society, Jess seemed to be one of the few people Miguel put his trust and faith in which wasn’t surprising at first until you saw how he interacted with everyone else. He held her to such a high regard, and you felt lucky to work with her. Now the two of you were friends since she was always the first one you went to complain about Miguel and your friendship blossomed from there.

The two of you enjoy the rest of your lunch together, leaving the frustrating topic of Miguel behind. It helped you calm down a bit, he really had been working your last nerves with all his commentary on your assignments. But you were going to stick to your word, the next time he had something to say you would just tell him to do it himself. And now you are working diligently on fixing some of the watches that other spiders have damaged. They were easy fixes that most spiders could have done on their own, but Miguel has designated you to be the one who fixes them. He claims it is to ensure that it was done right, but who knows? Everything was going well, up until your last one when your Spidey senses told you that someone was standing in the doorway of your lab and all your other senses screamed that it was Miguel. As you resist the urge to audibly groan at his presence, you continue with your work as if he wasn’t even there. You wish you had worn your headphones instead of just playing music from your speaker so you could really ignore him but you weren’t that fortunate. Your spine tingles as you feel him approach you, attempting to think positively that maybe he won’t over-explain how to fix what you’re working on as if he again wasn’t the one who made you the go-to for all gizmo repairs.

“Hey, you know…..” He starts and it’s as if you see red, he begins to explain how to fix the damn gizmo that you were literally already fixing. In frustration, you slam your tools on the desk standing up quickly, surprisingly this takes Miguel back almost making him stumble.

“What the hell is the point of assigning me shit to do if you’re always going to come in and explain to me how to do it like I already don’t fucking know how to do it.” You almost yell, gritting your teeth, and your face scrunches up in frustration.

“What” he asked, a stupid stunned expression on his face as if he hadn’t done anything wrong and couldn’t even imagine why you were upset.

“Literally every single time you assign me anything or I do anything here you are to explain to me how to do it. What is the point of assigning me shit Miguel if you’re just going to come and tell me how to do shit every single fucking time? Just do it yourself then, stop asking me! It’s like you don’t even trust me!”  At this point you were yelling, talking with your hands, and most likely making a scene that any spider with sense would stay away from. You were absolutely heated, and Miguel just looked at you wide-eyed and confused. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like that?!?!”

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about. I trust you more than anyone, that’s why I ask you to do all of this.” Miguel speaks softer than you think you’ve ever heard him which quells your anger a bit and now you’re confused.

“Then why do you always come and try to explain everything to me then?!?” Your voice is lower than before but you’re still slightly yelling.

“Well because”

“Because what Miguel”

He looks almost…. Nervous? You don’t think you’ve ever seen him nervous before. Yeah, when you first met him he was a rambling mess but you just assumed that was just the adrenaline speaking, ever since then he’s been this calm, collected, calculated man who despite his instinct to explain things to you, you may have grown fond of him.

“I do trust you to do your job. I wouldn’t give you the task if I didn’t think you would be able to accomplish it without my assistance.” He deflects from your question, which starts to bring back up your irritation.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Miguel. I’m so close to just going back to my universe and being done with this honestly.” Your frustrated threat makes Miguel even more confused about what is going on. He thought you liked being here, he thought he was impressing you with his knowledge.

“I was trying to impress you” He states matter of fact as if it was obvious.

“Impress me?? What???” Your temper is still up, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to because now you’re the one confused.

“I was attempting to show you my knowledge and understanding of things. You know to impress you and show you how intelligent I am” he gives a huff in a really cute pouty way for a man his size, and this confession brings a smile to your face as you start being thrown into a fit of laughter.

“I don’t see what’s so funny about any of this.” His voice is stern, he is obviously upset at your laughter, arms crossed over his chest in frustration. He was cute, he was too cute and now all of it was clicking for you. Miguel O Hara had been trying to flirt with you, in the worst way imaginable. “Has it not been obvious how fond I am of you?”

You catch your breath, as your laughing fit subsides, “No, Miguel you were actually really pissing me off.”  He frowns at the realization that his attempts at flirting have actually been doing the opposite of its intended effect.  “I know you’re smart, you literally developed most of this technology by yourself. There wasn’t anything you had to prove to me.”

“Well I-“Miguel stutters, the great Miguel O Hara stuttered. “Well, then how was I supposed to show you?”

“Show me what”

“That I am fond of you.”

“Fond of me, you mean like you like me?” Your head tilts in the most adorable way that has Miguel flustered, the brown hue of his face getting deeper as a blush crept up his neck.

“Obviously”

“Not obviously actually.” You smile gently at him, thinking about all the times you have been so frustrated with him, and he was just trying to flirt with you.

“Well then how would I show you?” He asks genuinely, more awkward than you have ever seen the confident man.

“You could ask me out on a date, you know like a regular person.”

“Okay, so would you like to go on a date with me?”

You smile at him, and Miguel thinks his heart just stopped, “Yes Miguel I would, just tell me where and when” He does a curt nod, not knowing exactly what to say as his brain racks for ideas on where to take you turning around to leave your lab.

“Oh, and Miguel, by the way,” you stop him before he can “You don’t have to try and impress me, you already do.”

And the way you smiled at him after saying that he had to do everything to hold his composure as the stoic man he has tried to portray himself as but he can’t help the small smile that graces his face at your comment.

……

“You’re really gonna go out with him?” Jess asks the next time the two of you hang out, as you tell her about your last interaction with Miguel.

“Yes, yes, I am. You don’t understand, he was so cute when he was telling me that he was trying to impress me. He even BLUSHED.”

“Such a 180 from wanting his head on a spike” she chuckles.

“I know I know I know I know. But really you don’t understand how cute he was after I basically did put his head on a spike.”

“I could have told you that he liked you”

“And why didn’t you?” You huff, crinkling your nose at the fact she let you sit here frustrated with that man’s behavior for MONTHS.

“Eh, not as fun” she laughs at you, while you roll your eyes at her.