#dear lord i haven't had to use that like. ever

[thebusytypewriter]

Arin: "I heard there's two main characters. One's a girl, one's a boy."

Me: uh oh

Arin: "Who do you want?"

Dan: "Maybe I'll be the male protagonist."

Me: UH OH

...

Kaede: "I'm the protagonist of this crazy story."

Dan: "Nevermind, I guess there's one protagonist."

Me: all clear :)

[kabr0ztrousers]

Can you do a story with Oreg and the reader :>

You're skipping the line, because I'm behind schedule today and the ones ahead of you need setup.

You're welcome

Kabr0z Writes Episode 47: One year later

This episode picks up from Episode 42!

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Not many today! Creampie; size difference; interspecies relations; fucking on a table; squirting;

A/N: I got into BattleTech today, which is absolutely one of those "Dear God, is that daylight?" Games, so it's 23:30 now.

Hopefully this doesn't keep me up all night again 🤣

Also, send in your requests already, you know you want to

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A year ago, you were sold to an orc warrior. It just so happened, that orc warrior was a duke who also runs a soup kitchen. You'd probably have wound up with him anyway if your adoptive father had let you get to know each other first. Things didn't really end up that way, and you were sold for thirty gold pieces and railed in childhood living room to seal the deal.

You weren't sure he really understood the idea behind an anniversary, he woke up at the crack of dawn as usual, trained until breakfast with you and your son together, then left to do whatever good works he took it upon himself to do. You like it, sure, he's certainly well-loved in the city but it is a little unbecoming for a marcher lord to be seen rethatching a roof.

You spent the day making preparations, arranging flowers you picked from the garden, setting up your child at a playdate so he wouldn't disturb you, you'd even bought him a gift, though he was a bit of an ascetic so it was only a new tunic and some hobnailed boots. Something he'd actually use.

He came home in the early evening, clomping into the house. You could hear him going towards the chapel where he'd normally stay for a while in quiet reflection before dinner.

Oreg had been a paladin since he was very young, abandoned by his warband and adopted by an elven conclave. He was younger than you when he ventured into the Shadowlands to kill the lich, and always carried his faith with him. You sat with your husband, gazing silently at the icons on the small altar, dedicated to the god of fertility and rebirth. Your hand brushed his, grasping a couple of his huge fingers in your own hand. He looked away from the altar, smiling at you as you rested your head on his shoulder.

"Dinner time?" He put an arm around you, placing his hand on your waist as he held you to him

"I was thinking of something else first, it's been a year since we met, you know?"

His greenish-grey skin went even greyer "Oh, I haven't got you anything!"

You laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek "I noticed, you'll make it up to me later, for now, let's go to the dining room"

You led him by the hand, a five-foot-nothing woman leading an eight-foot orc through your house to the grand dining room that only ever seemed to get use when you had company, or your child wanted to play there. On the table were the presents you'd bought, and the bouquet you'd made.

Your husband's eyes lit up. "For me?"

"Yes, dear, for you. Go ahead and open them"

You'd never seen such childlike glee from this man, normally lodged somewhere between practical and stoic, now filled with anticipation as he turned the first gift over in his hands before tearing off the paper and holding his new clothes to his chest. He was even more impressed with the boots, remarking on the sturdy soles as he tried them on. You couldn't help but beam at him as he stomped up and down the length of the room, clearly loving the clack-clack-clack of the nails on the smooth granite floor

You finally managed to convince to stop stomping, holding this giant man who suddenly has the boundless energy of a teen half his age. You pushed him onto one of the chairs arrayed on either side of the great table, climbing on top of him

You whispered in his ear "Now, you get to give me my gift" before hiking up your skirt, revealing your pussy to him.

He got the idea. Bundling you up, he lay you on the table, kicking the chair away and kneeling to dive face-first into you.

His hands gently gripped your thighs, squeezing the plump flesh as his tongue gently explored you. He started slow, barely touching as he licked the outer lips up and down. Speeding up, he started to tease the inner lips and your hole, running his tongue vertically, slightly catching your clit every now and then to send electric tingles through you. You could feel how wet this was making you. Hell, you could hear how wet it was making you! He still wasn't stopping, rubbing your hole with a thumb as he moved his attention upward, his tongue rolling around your clit as you whimpered and whined on the table.

When his finger started pushing into you, it was too much. You cried out as the tip slid in, feeling yourself clenching as your hands gripped the back of his head through your skirts. Oreg wasn't done yet, though, that finger pressed on, getting deeper inside before he curled it upwards, pushing hard against your g-spot, making you gasp as your knuckles whitened on your clothes. He moved with a practiced purpose, listening to the crechendo of gasping cries you made as you approached your next peak. At last, you came again, squirting straight into his mouth as waves of pleasure flowed over you. Ever since he figured out how to do it, it's been his favourite thing to do with you, you weren't sure if he enjoyed getting off as much as making you squirt for him.

He definitely enjoyed getting off though, and as he stood up, you felt the imposing thickness of his cock against you. You'd gotten more used to it over the months, but it was still challenging at first. He held the absurdly sized cock against you, rubbing it up and down your slit, slathering it with your juices before angling it into you. A moment passed, you could feel it pushing into you. Your body relented, and the tip stretched its way inside. Your breathing once again turned to gasping and your toes curled as he slid in, being careful not to go too quickly even as you could see he desperately needed your body.

"Do it, give it to me like you want" you breathed your enthusiasm to him. He looked at you a moment. You met his gaze.

He thrusted. You screamed. Wide-eyed, he looked down at you, even as you held him in "Deeper, Oreg, please, deeper"

He pulled out an inch or two, then forced himself deeper into you, letting his bodyweight force his cock inside. You bucked and rolled your hips, fucking him back as he pressed in. He picked up speed, your moans emboldening him

"Cum in me, cum in me, cum in me" you repeated your mantra over and over again as the orc took you. The table rocked and creaked with the force of his thrusts, again and again until at last, he did as you asked.

His hips hit yours and he let out a groaning sigh, cock twitching, filling you up as he dropped his load into you. You stroked his face and pulled him to you. You kissed. Your tongue was in his mouth now, he gently caressed it with his own as his balls pumped more and more of his essence into you, already leaking out and pooling below you.

You held him to you, closing your eyes, not letting him go. This is the only present you wanted from him.

Though a sword would be awesome.

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Hope you enjoyed that, it's super duper late now so I'm just going to remind you all that requests are open and you're welcome to leave one!

[kurithedweeb]

Dear Sir Garroth,

You may have noticed, if you ever read this, that I did not try to set this letter on fire. Perhaps I should have. I am, after all, still pissed at you and lacking anything better to do. Still bedridden. It hasn't been all that long since my last letter, in truth.

Dante's been visiting us a lot, whenever he can spare the time. He's trying to catch everyone up on what we missed the last fifteen years. He's the only one who's been here the entire time. He never stopped writing reports, so those have been helping some when I can make out the words. Fifteen years and his writing still looks like chicken scratch. At least one thing's still the same.

He has children now. His oldest daughter is six years old. I haven't met her yet. It's hard to imagine Dante as a father when less than a week ago he was sixteen. He turned sixteen in the middle of a war and now he has a six year old daughter. And guess who the mother is? Miss Nana. I remember his cute little crush on her, I remember the way she could make him smile when the rest of us could barely get him to respond at all. They're a good match, aren't they?

She came to see us with Dante. She brought a basket of pastries like she used to bring to the barracks. She made some old favorites to welcome us home. She thought you were with us. She asked where you were.

I couldn't tell her. I couldn't utter a single word. All I could do was sit there, clutching the edge of my cot, eyes on the floor. She figured it out before anyone could explain. She apologized to our lady, and then she sat beside me and put her hand on mine and said nothing. She didn't need to.

So much has happened. Half the village moved away. Dante and Miss Nana are married with a family. All the little ones are grown up. Our little Levin is Lord of Phoenix Drop and can't walk on his own. Cadenza is Lord of Meteli. My father is dead.

For all I know, so are you. I turned back just before I went into the portal. It was only long enough for a glimpse, but I saw him run a sword through you. In your back and out your chest. Did you see me as I turned back? Was I the last thing you saw? I hope I was, if it was between me and him.

I haven't told our lady yet. I haven't told anyone. They still hope that we might be able to go back for you, or that we might be able to find some way to bring you home. I know what I saw, but there's some part of me that thinks you could have survived. If anyone could do it, you could.

I lit a candle for you. You don't know what that means. It's something we do along the Trail for lost souls. We make candles that don't burn out and when someone goes travelling we light one; Dante kept the ones he found in my bunk years ago. The flame is a part of the person the candle is for. It's supposed to guide them home, only going out when someone dies. Your candle is beside me right now. It's been burning bright since I first lit it. I want that to mean you're still alive, but for the first time in my life I'm wondering whether the candle knows. I hope it does. I want you to come home. I want to be there for you the way you were for me. The way you always have been.

My sister lit a candle for me. For fifteen years it has been burning. She wrote a letter to me when it went out. She spent half the flint she had to relight it, and cried over the page when it finally caught. Some lines are illegible, ink warped by wet spots. I haven't seen Seafarer's in writing in so long that I can't believe there was ever a time I struggled to write in anything else.

We spent countless nights transcribing my reports into something you could actually read. The night before you took the amulet from me, it was just like all those nights. Oddly enough, that night out of all the rest feels so far away. Maybe it's because of what almost happened between us that night that never did, maybe that makes it all feel a bit like a dream. Were you thinking of that night when you saw me last?

I don't know if I will ever be able to stop being angry with you. I still watch your candle burn until I fall asleep. I still miss you terribly.

Sincerely yours,

Your second-in-command, Sir Laurance Zvahl of Phoenix Drop

[meraki-sunset]

A lot of people were asking about the fussion trolls God tiers So here they are! Plus the dancestors

In case you forgot them or haven't seen them this is them. They were born like that in this AU, and their hemospectrum it's smaler and has diferent colors as a result.

I'll cover the story of their game as well as their dancestors and ancestors in another post

Here are the dancestors! Like in canon, they played their game and ended up scratching their game. But things went a little diferent for them...

The Legido. Araeta has Aradia's aspect and Nepeta's class, while it's reversed with Damlin, who has Damara's class and Meulin's aspect.

There isn't much to say about them, in the alpha trolls session it was Araeta who ascended last moment and stoped Jack noir. Damlin ascended in order to sabotage the beta troll's session, like Damara did in the original story.

Karlux Captas has Karkat's aspect and Sollux's class, while Mitkri has Kankri's class and Mituna's aspect.

In his session, Karlux took the role of the leader, his classpect Mage of blood should've made it easier to manage leadership (mage=understands aspect. Blood=Bonds) and the session went of well, for the most part, thos the ending was almost the same as the canon one, with them being traped in the meteor and people shooting left and right.

Mitkri was the seer of his team, but his vissions only consisted of fatidic scenarios, which his teammates often ignored due to his insistence geting in the way of progresing in the game. in the end, he lost his mind while using his powers in the final battle, losing conciousness. when he woke while his moirail restored his brain, his prediction had already been fulfilled and they had lost the game.

Teraya has kanaya's aspect and Terezi's class, and Latrim has Porrim's class and Latula's aspect.

As a seer of space, Teraya was tasked with the creation of the genesis frog and was helped by Karlux.

Latrim, she was the secondary healer of the group and kept everyone's mind active

Tavius has Tavros's aspect and Equius's clas, while Rufuss has Ruffio's class and Horuss's aspect.

This arrangement of class+aspect i did simply because the oposite of a heir of breath + rogue of void would've been a Page of void + Page of breath, and that would've been kinda ridiculous, plus i'm trying to have as many classes as i can.

Tavius literally has John's classpect now, he's more free than ever

Rufuss,on the other hand now has Roxy's exact aspect too, which is a funny coincidence. Like roxy he worked on manifesting things for his team.

Dear lord this two.

Erizee has Gamzee's aspect and Eridan's class, while his dancestor Crolos has Kurlos's class and Cronus's aspect.

Due to the wierd conection between the Amporas and Makaras this two would've shared class one way or another, since Gamzee and Eridan have eachother's dancestor's class, with Eridan being a prince like Kurlos and Gamzee being a bard like Cronus, but having the rage aspect like Kurlos and eridan having the hope aspect like Cronus.

I decided against having too Bards because i felt like a price creates a straigther path to destuction. Since a prince not only destroys his aspect but with his aspect, wich means Erizee would've appeared Rageless during the game but exploded in the meteor.

Crolos on the other hand whould've been manipulative like Kurlos but ill intended and gaslighty like Cronus, appearing hopeless until he ended up destroying everyone's hope.

His ghost would've kept instructing Erizee on how to proceed when he reached the new session, Erizee doesn't like him.

The heiresses to the throne of Alternia and Beforus.

again, to avoid having two thiefs (funny enough they would've been a thief of life and a thief of light) Vriezi is a witch of light and Meenea is a sylph of life.

when combining the two Serkets and the two Peixes you get a real interesting result, you get two very similar girls.

To me the fact that instead of them being thiefs, they both have "benevolent classpects" makes it all the more interesting. Makes you think how they can use good powers to cause harm.

Vrieri being the heiress has Feferi's will to dethrone the condesce (wich was alternate-adult Meenea) but Vriska's savage aproach to fighting. And Meenea, like Vrieri, looked forward to dethrone her ruling ancestor (wich was alternate-adult Vrieri) looking to manipulate and eliminate those in her way.

By playing the game, they both lost the chance to do so

if this two cross paths, it'll be a deathmatch on sight

If you haven't realized by now, this means, the two teams of trolls together, compose a full team.

It also means the dancestor's session was unviable from the begining, due to the lack of time and space players. just like the canon Alpha kids session

[fandomlit]

reunited (sirius black x reader)

summary after a year free from azkaban, sirius is dying to leave number twelve grimmauld place. but after a year of also craving to see you, one of his wishes is met.

warnings mentions of loneliness and depression

a/n if you couldn't tell i'm on a harry potter kick rn (requests please!!!)

gif cred belongs to @peaceseller

sirius was losing his mind sitting around headquarters. with little to do other than to stare at his family's old possessions and vanquish bitter creatures (and kreatcher), he was beginning to harbor a feeling similar to his time in azkaban--not nearly as hopeless, but just as desperately bored.

he heard the door open from the armchair he had been lounging in and a voice gasp, "professor l/n!" before the screeches of his mother filled the hall. he jumped to his feet--not due to the screams, he was truly becoming used to that--but at the sound of your name.

someone managed to close the curtains around his mother's portrait as he practically ran down the stairs. the last time he had glimpsed you had been too brief, not even being able to show you that he was there in his disguised animagus form. when dumbledore told him he had recruited you, sirius was less than surprised, but desperate for the day you would finally drop by headquarters. when after fourteen long years, he would get to speak to you. and, as he reached the last step, you were finally here.

"old bat never liked me," you were chuckling, shaking your head at harry, ron, and hermione as you faced the drawn curtains. "screamed very similar to that in person, as well." ron spoke something to you just as your gaze landed on sirius, who was still clutching the banister with his mouth slightly agape.

you were just as beautiful as the day he last saw you. your face was more mature than he had last seen and you were an inch or two taller, but you still had that bright glint in your eyes, like you were always on the verge of a joke, and a confidence in your stance that no one he had ever met managed to compare to.

he was muttering your name before he even realized it. he was acutely aware of the trio flipping their gazes between the two of you.

you smiled fondly at him. "sirius black, you finally grew out your hair!"

he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he opened his arms, walking toward you quicker than he would have cared for you to acknowledge. luckily, you met him halfway and let his arms squeeze you tightly to him. he let out an unconscious laugh.

"holy merlin, i never thought i'd ever touch you again," he confessed before realizing how odd it sounded. but you only responded with a laugh of your own.

"me neither," you confessed, drawing black slightly to see his grinning face. "but lord am i glad you're not the murderer the world was tricked to think." his smile dimmed in the slightest, but even those difficult thoughts couldn't weigh his heart down. you were actually here. "how's the old house treating you?"

he raised his eyebrows at you. "really? just going to keep bringing up the worst things of my day-to-day?"

you let out a laugh that he couldn't help but grin at. "i'm sorry, i am." you smiled fondly again as you two drew completely apart, but sirius kept your hand clamped in his and you squeezed it to show you didn't mind it. you shook your head at him. "godric, you look good! for a convict and blood traitor, you look like a dream, sirius!"

he let out a loud laugh this time, glimpsing the trio all trading glances behind you two. "you should see yourself! hogwarts has been kind to you, my dear." you let out a surprised sound at the old nickname. "you haven't changed an ounce, y/n. you're the same woman i dreamed of on my worst nights."

he took pride in the pink that crept up your neck. "you're a slightly aged version of the man i couldn't keep out of my dreams," you admitted. sirius smiled. "no matter what they said about you sirius.. my mind could never let you go."

he pressed your locked hands to his heart, soft gaze holding yours in what he hoped didn't look at all like the desperation he felt. "now it never has to." you pulled him into a wordless hug before he slipped his arm around your shoulders and lead you toward the kitchen.

sirius knew that later, away from the eyes of the curious teenagers of the house, you two would share a heavy hearted moment. one where he wouldn't be able to deny himself the exhaustion of his hardships in your presence, which has always been able to get past his tough, playful facade. but for now, the way you smiled and joked and radiated in his presence gripped his heart in a way that wasn't at all like he had felt in years.

[thelov3lybookworm]

I Didn't Ask For This (part one)

Summary: Marriage had always been something sacred to little Y/n, something dream like, where her husband would come and whisk her away to a fairyland. At least, that's what she had always thought.

All her dreams would be shattered.

But maybe she can salvage them?

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: yeah soo... I think I have some kind of obsession with this trope. And I have never ever seen any azriel x reader forced marriage fics, so I decided to write one myself. But I could be wrong and there are fics out there that I haven't seen, in which case, please let me know about them. (Also, because we do not know who azzie's father was and if he was a camp Lord, for the sake of this fic, lets pretend that he was, indeed, a camp lord.)

Tw: Forced marriage, none more that I can think of, so please let me know if I need to add anything.

•○🌑○•

Y/n poured the imaginary tea in the cups set on the low table in front of her, talking to Mister Fluffkins about the weather. He was her daughter's husband, or she pretended that he was. Her daughter, Alisa, was her favourite doll, who was going to be married today.

"I hope there was no troubles while on the way here?" She asked as she set down the teacup and turned towards her other toys.

Before Mister Fluffkins could answer though, Y/n's mother walked in, crouching in front of Y/n, smiling.

"What are you doing?"

"I was just asking Mister Fluffkins about his travels today. Do you want some tea?"

"No dear. I just wanted to tell you that a friend of father is coming here today with his son. I want you to try and become his friend, as he has none. Okay?"

"Okay mother." The little girl turned away and settled down opposite her to be son in law, sipping her imaginary tea. Excited that she'll be making a new friend today. Maybe he can play with her. He could be Alisa's father, and they would be one big and happy family.

As little Y/n was busy musing about her new friend, she lost track of time, and soon they had arrived. The door opened once again and her mother stepped inside, Y/n stood. A small boy, probably her age or older, stepped in behind her, his hands clasped together nervously. His eyes flitted around the room, his hair dishevelled and messy. He looked too thin to be healthy.

Y/n mother nudged him forward, and he hesitantly took a step forward. Then another and another.

"I'm Y/n. What is your name?" She asked when he was standing in front of her.

"Az– Azriel."

"Let's be friends." She said, before practically shoving him in the chair next to Mister Fluffkins and pouring him some tea. "It's tea. Drink, you'll like it."

He blinked. "There's nothing there."

"Obviously. We're playing, I can't use real tea."

Her mother had laughed, walking away. It took some time for Azriel to get accustomed to playing with her, but when he did, he enjoyed it, cherishing this rare moment of happiness. And though he was quite odd, saying he had never played anything in his life, Y/n didn't mind.

But then both of their father's stepped in, as if in a hurry. Azriel's father yelled at him to be quick and clasp her hand, and Y/n decided she didn't like this man. He was too loud.

Y/n's father was looking sadly at her when the bad man told him to make haste. They made Y/n and Azriel hold hands, guiding them through it.

"Listen girl, I want you to say I agree to everything he says, understand?" Y/n nodded, afraid of his father. "Now," he began saying to Azriel, "repeat after me. I will marry you, when I see you after we come of age. Say it." Azriel looked scared, but repeated nonetheless. And she mumbled a I agree after him before a pain shot down her left ring finger and she wrenched it from Azriel's grasp, tears pooling in her eyes. At that exact moment, the door slammed open and her mother stumbled in, gasping and clutching at her head.

"No..." She stared at her husband angrily with tears in her eyes.

Y/n didn't understand, but it wasn't as if she could question the adults. Because, even though her father didn't hate her, he didn't like her very much either, hitting her whenever she got too loud. But he wasn't bad, atleast Y/n didn't think so.

Maybe when her older siblings came home from school, she would ask them about it.

•○🌑○•

As she stared at the rain droplets pelting the window of her room, Y/n couldn't stop thinking about that day. It had been almost five centuries since then.

Asking her siblings about it had yielded no information, after all, they were kids too.

But now she knew.

Azriel's father had fame and control over the camp they had once lived in. Her father wanted to be in the good graces of the Lord and also the recently vacated position of the second most powerful person, the camp Lord's second in command. Azriel's father was giving Y/n's father what he wanted in exchange for her marriage to his bastard son.

Who had run away.

But she couldn't fault him for that, knowing what his father was like. She knew Azriel fairly well, considering she met him a few more times after the day they had been promised to each other. The last time they met, he had finally told Y/n that his father kept him in a dungeon. Then he left. They could have been called friends once, but now, Y/n didn't even know if he was alive or rotting somewhere. But, even after all these centuries, Y/n still cares for that tiny, skinny, timid boy with disheveled hair, who would get extremely happy if provided with one small act of kindness.

But she also couldn't stop the tiny kernel of resentment that bloomed in her, because, after he had run away, his father had decided that he no longer wanted to share the power when he wasn't getting anything out of it, kicking their family out of the camp. Her father had gone nearly crazy.

Her sister, Velda, had been in a similar situation as Y/n, having been forced to marry one of the more prized warriors. But she didn't have to make a promise for it, as the warrior wanted to marry her. Y/n had been forced to promise herself to Azriel because his father somehow knew that he couldn't marry Azriel forcefully.

She would have been married too, if not for the mark on the second last finger of her left hand, encircling it like a ring. Every day she woke up with a pot of dead and hope in her stomach. Dread, for if Azriel came to take her, she would be forced to marry him, but if he didn't, she'd have to ensure her father's taunts, as if it was somehow her fault Azriel escaped. Those taunts, which had increased since her mother's death, haunted her at night.

Hope, for if he came, maybe she'll be able to have the life she always dreamed of, and that Azriel would still be the boy she had befriended. And if he didn't, she won't have to leave.

Her father had waited all these years in hopes that Azriel would come to get his bride. But he was tired of waiting, it seemed. And so, today, she and her father they would be visiting Hewn City, in his hopes that the High Lord could find her husband.

•○🌑○•

The Hewn City was hauntingly beautiful. That's all Y/n could describe it as.

They were waiting on the side, her father conversing with someone named Keir while she stared at everything she could get her sights on in awe.

The doors to the court room suddenly opened, everyone falling silent as the High Lord and the Lady, with the little heir in her arms, walked in, with their Inner Circle, as they were called. Y/n kept her eyes downcast, hiding behind her father. Her neck prickles, as if someone was staring at her, but it wasn't something she was unfamiliar with.

Soon, everyone dropped to their knees, rising when the High Lord commanded. After a few people conversed with him, her father stepped forward, her following, still staring at the ground. He bowed, and she curtsied.

But then, when a shiver wound down her spine, she lifted her eyes.

She had to take a step back, her jaw dropping.

Because, staring at her were wide, hazel eyes.

She stared and stared, hoping she was dreaming and hoping that she wasn't. Because those eyes, she would never forget.

Azriel.

Her father bowed, turning away, and she shook her head at Azriel, slightly. He dipped his chin and looked away.

But when Y/n tried to step away, a sharp pain shot through her chest and left hand, a scream tearing from her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping and clutching her hand to her chest. One glance at the dais told her that Azriel had fallen to his knees as well, and everyone was silent, looking between the two of them.

She looked at her father, the confusion in his eyes clearing and a wicked smile blooming on his face.

"Finally."

•○🌑○•

Part 2

[thevoidscreams]

Omg your writing is exactly what I want and need <3 Maybe some breeding? Guilliman or the Lion (it seems it would fit them the best). Wanting to claim and curious about if their seed could knock up a regular human. Keep up the good work ^^

Day 17

I love blueberry man

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x reader

Warnings: a bit of fulgrim existing, breeding, you get yoinked, your dad sells you to the imperium wattpad style, arranged marriage

The mirror reflected my image back to me as the serf did up my corset.

“You're a very lucky woman. Marrying the Lord Guilliman.” she cooed.

I hadn't felt all that lucky. I'd barely known him a month before I stood at the altar with him.

I could see my father's face in my mind's eye telling me that my husband had been chosen. As his daughter and the princess of our world it was my duty to keep our world from ruin.

--

“If you don't do this, they will force our world into submission.”

“But he'll take me away. I'll never see you again.” I'd been crying as he sat me down and hugged me.

“He will be a good husband and this marriage will give us some favorable terms under the rule of the emperor of Terra. He promised us this and he is a good sort of man.”

“I haven't even met him yet.”

“You will tonight. He's our guest of honor at the banquet.”

I fought back tears. This was my duty, my people needed me.

--

“Oh don't cry my lady. You'll streak the blush.”

The serf gave me a reassuring pat.

“I'm just so worried that I'll never see my family again.” I admitted in a wobbly voice.

“Oh dear, you'll have plenty of family once you marry Lord Guilliman. He has thousands of sons. And I'm sure there will be a few more along the way now that you're here.”

She said conspiratorially.

“I'm sure you're right.” I admitted.

He was quite fetching I had to admit. Lord Guilliman was a very handsome man and any woman would feel lucky to marry someone like him.

Besides, this marriage would be good for your world. The protection it would afford you from those awful xeno raids was just another thing you couldn't afford to give up.

“What's he like?” I asked absently, my mind wandering. I'd only met him twice now and both times had been with chaperones from both sides.

“Lord Guilliman is very noble, my lady, and he's honorable. Smart as they come too. He's quite gentle with us all as well. Doesn't put us littler baseline people down either.”

She nodded and began fixing my hair.

“Do you suppose he'll be a good husband? A fair one?”

“Oh he'll be the best no doubt. When he's not busy mind you.” I nodded.

“Of course. He has much to do.”

“Aye, he does. Now give us a turn. Let us see you.”

I gave a slow turn and all the assembled hand maids and serfs ooo'd and gushed.

“Well isn't she just the loveliest thing you ever saw?” One of them cooed. They were all so kind and it helped ease my nerves to know that I would have them to help me.

The ceremony had been grand, by all standards, even for someone from my station.

The Ultramarines, my new ‘family’ were giant men in giant suits of armor, my new husband introduced me to so many my head spun.

But my husband and his sons were not the only giants to attend. My new brother- in-law had come to see this, apparently, an odd occurrence.

They varied in personality vastly. But they came bearing gifts and well wishes. Their sons, who I was beginning to understand, were called legions, joined us as well.

Sanguinius and Vulkan had been the sweetest.

I adored them. They did a good job reassuring me as well that I was in good hands. That their brother would be a dutiful husband and that he would not mistreat me.

They did more to put aside any fears I had than everyone before. I couldn't help but trust them.

I looked to my husband who was speaking to another man in purple.

He was lovely, with violet eyes and long silky white hair. He seemed to be teasing his brother and I smiled thinking of my own family.

Hopefully, I'd be able to have a few children soon, it would soothe the ache I knew I would feel.

“So brother, your wife is a darling little thing isn't she?” Fulgrim chirped, I knew it was the set up to something more and I downed my wine.

“If you have something to say Fulgrim then just say it.”

He pouted and lounged in his chair more dramatically.

“I'm surprised you didn't marry her off to one of your captains, or one of your other sons. But I can't say that I blame you.”

“Her father would not accept anyone from a lower station, he was..adamant.”

Fulgrim laughed, it was a silvery sound. “Oh brother, you are so lucky you got to this world instead of me. I would have grabbed her up in a heartbeat. Perhaps I should marry again. To have a sweet little thing to warm my bed.”

“I didn't marry her just to deflower her.” I felt the scowl darken my face.

“Naturally not. But you will, will you not? As her husband you will have to perform and be dutiful. A wedding is only half concluded until it is consummated.”

My cheeks grew hot. “I am not going to discuss my bedroom activities with you Fulgrim. I will do as is expected of me as her husband. But I will mto be a lecherous pervert and run around giving away everything. If you're going to be disgusting, do it elsewhere.”

Fulgrim shook his head at me and sighed.

“Well how about this? Do you think you'll be able to? Will you be able to even make her a mother?”

I was about to reply with some very heated words but stopped. The question shocked me.

“I will do as my duty demands.” I told him simply.

I looked at my wife, she was much smaller than me. Half my height and so…delicate. Sex would be a minefield to navigate. I may not have known her well. But she had been kind, and I felt certain of her good character.

“Pardon me.” I pulled myself away from the conversation and went to my wife.

“They're about to make the speeches. We should return to the table.”

I turned to look up at my husband and nodded.

He offered me his massive hand and I went with him at his side.

“Have you enjoyed your evening my Lord?” I asked softly, he looked at me quizzically.

“I am your husband, there is no need for formalities. Call me Roboute.”

“Ah. Right.” I blushed. “Have you enjoyed the evening so far, Roboute?”

He smiled. It was a gentle gesture and my heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage.

“I have.”

People went up to a podium, one by one, giving their admiration and care in the form of stories and well wishes. I learned much from the stories told about his time on the battlefield.

His older brother, Horus, gave a very moving speech before he addressed me personally and wished me luck dealing with his stubborn blood.

People laughed and it was all in good fun. Even Roboute laughed and stood to embrace his brother.

My own family spoke, proud as anything and I felt teary eyed again as my mother wished me luck in my journey as a woman. Telling me how much she loved me.

A few tears did fall and my husband touched my back softly.

After the festivities, people either left or broke into smaller groups to talk.

“Where will we be staying tonight?” I asked Roboute.

He looked down at me and answered in a polite and quiet voice.

“My flagship. The Macragge's Honour. Your belongings will be moved there so we may leave in the next few days.”

I nodded.

My hearts hammered as I realized I would have to sleep with her in my bed, and we would have to at least try for a child.

Oddly enough, it wasn't embarrassment or discomfort that I was feeling. It was a rush like the thrill of the battle before it began.

I was anticipating this new turn in my life.

I swept her up. Careful of her dress and carried her in my arms. “Roboute?” She squeaked.

“Is it not a tradition to carry your wife over the threshold of her new home?”

“It is, but your ship is still in orbit. It'll take some time to get there.”

“Then I will carry you all the while.”

I could feel her heart racing, the same as mine. Was it excitement that made it beat so fast and so loud, or fear?”

I could only hope it was the former. I did not want my own wife to be fearful of me.

That anxiety was laid to rest as she placed her head on my chest relaxing into me. Some of my brothers whooped and cheered as I carried my bride away.

“Have fun brother.” I heard Fulgrim laugh. Oh I would..I hoped.

Roboute carried me the whole way just as he said.

His ship was the biggest thing I’d ever seen.

And his room was bigger than the main banquet hall of my father's castle.

He set me down and touched my cheek softly.

“I want you to be comfortable. Please if this is not something you want, I need to know. But otherwise I am intent to do my duty as your husband. And consummate our marriage.”

I shivered, he was being so kind. I'd heard so many horrible stories of new husbands just forcing that contact on their wives, but here he was offering me a choice.

“I would like..” I thought for a moment, trying not to imagine anything too lewd.

“I would like to try.” I breathed and he nodded.

“Shall I have a serf help you prepare? I am not so experienced in undoing clothes and hair.”

I shook my head. “Let me undress, then perhaps we could bathe and.. get used to one another.”

“A sound idea.” He agreed and began to undress.

His body was amazing. Perfect even. I couldn't help but stare as he revealed his body to me. Laying his clothes over a chair neatly.

“Are you going to undress with me?”

I stared at him dumbfounded and nodded.

He chuckled. “Is the view really all that good.”

My mouth moved before my brain and I blurted, “Oh yeah.”

Roboute blushed, and not lightly either. His cheeks were like the blood angels battle plate.

“I- um, thank you.”

I nodded.

I fumbled a bit gracelessly for the strings keeping my corset together.

I managed but I felt foolish.

I dropped the dress and stepped out of it, moving on the pins holding my hair. Quite aware of his gaze on me.

She was lovely, I hadn't imagined such a thing of beauty would be under all of those clothes. She rivaled even the most masterfully sculpted statues of my home.

I wanted to reach out and touch her skin, it looked so soft.

I resisted, not wanting to be too forward.

“You are very lovely.” I breathed and snapped my mouth shut, having not meant to speak the words aloud.

Her eyes sparkled, just as magnificent as the rest of her.

“I will take you to the bath.” I told her, lifting her until my arms. She gasped and I nearly put her down again.

But get arms snaked around my neck. I find that anticipation returning along with the question Fulgrim posed to me.

Could I give her children? I would have to try.

The bathroom was spacious and the tub would have more than enough room for us both, it could fit several of my brothers and I for a communal bath. But for tonight it was just us.

I ran the water, setting my little wife down on a bench.

“Shall I bring some oils? They feel wonderful after a bath.”

“I've never used them before.”

“I will help you.” I assured her.

Once the water was to an acceptable depth I stepped in, offering her a hand into the hot water.

The water was deeper than I had anticipated, it was like a hot pool.

Roboute took me into his lap and I felt like I was going to faint. He was my husband, but I'd never been alone with a man, other than my father, much less naked with one.

And here I was, sitting in his lap, naked as a bird and feeling all sorts of ways about it.

His hands ran over my skin, massaging soaps into my back and arms.

He was bathing me, like I was a kid.

“I-I can wash myself.” I stammered, he chuckled and it sent rippling little waves through the water.

“I know, but I want you to relax.”

“Oh.”

My hand reached for the bottle and I poured some into my hand, rubbing down his chest, my fingers brushing through the very fine blond hairs there.

He hummed and his hands scrubbed lower.

We spent our time like that, rubbing and bathing one another, I moved closer to reach his shoulders and found myself against something hard under the water.

“Hmm?”

He coughed and apologized.

“Why are you apologizing?” I giggled still confused.

I reached down to try and move the thing out of the way with my hand, grabbing it. Roboute groaned and it dawned on me just what I'd just done.

“oh….” I mumbled and slumped against him. “sorry…” his hand rested on my back.

“Don't be. It's yours to do with as you please.” He mused.

It was, wasn’t it? I ran my hand up and down the length of it. Exploring the velvety softness.

“It’s big.”

“What did you expect?” He breathed, seeming to enjoy the touch.

“Well, I'm not really sure. This is all new to me.”

Roboute sank into the water washing the soap from our bodies before standing.

“Let’s get dry, I’ll rub you down with that oil.”

His towels, like everything else, were massive. I got lost in the plush fabric and my poor husband had to help orient me towards the bed.

I sat on the edge and pulled the towel down to look up at him. He was actively drying his body and I followed his example.

While I was drying Roboute vanished back into the bathroom. He returned with a clay vase of body oil.

“Lay back.”

My body moved, I found myself unable to disobey the command.

He knelt on the bed next to me, his body causing the bed to dip. I had to put out an arm to keep from rolling.

Roboute kneeled between my legs, pouring oil into his open palm.

“Just relax and let me work.”

I nodded.

His hands ran over me bare chest and down my stomach, the oil felt warm applied by his hands.

The big pads of his finger tips massaged my thighs and I moaned as he worked the tension out of my muscles.

He was skilled with his hands.

I was so lost in the feeling I didn’t notice him bending low until his lips were on my throat, kissing and nibbling. My fingers combed through his hair, holding him closer.

“Roboute~” I gasped.

“Yes, my wife?” He purred back. His fingers sliding between my thighs, pressing to my womanhood.

His lips touched mine, one oil slicked finger pushing in. The oil acts as a sufficient lubricant to ease his way in, making me squeak.

“Shall we begin the consummation of our marriage my husband?” I asked, my voice tremulous.

“That was the idea, yes.”

I looked down at her, her body soft under my own. I had certainly made up my mind on the matter. I would bed her as frequently as I was able. We had to make our way back to Terra now, so that I could present her to my father. That would provide ample time to see if our biology was compatible. I was surprised to find that I was beyond hopeful that it was. She was a good woman and I was sure she would care for a family well. I’d also taken her from her home and her family. If I could not provide her with children.. The thought killed me inside. I slipped my finger in as far as I could, watching her writhe under me. Her breaths quickening as I pet her inner walls. The oils mixed with her natural slick. I was fascinated by the way her body pulled my finger back in after I pulled it back. Taking the oil I poured more over her. Tending to her gently. I felt pride with each sound I drew from her soft lips.

“The oil..” She sat up and I felt a rush of worry, was it hurting her? Was I hurting her?

“Yes? What about it?”

“May I see it?” She held out her palm to me and I understood, lifting the jug to pour some into her hand.

“What are you-?” I choked on my own breath as she grabbed hold of my cock, stroking me and kissing my lips.

“Is this good?”

“Very.” It felt good, being touched in that way. The strokes were a bit uncertain at first but steadily grew with confidence as my own voice joined hers.

“I need to prepare you to take me. May I push one more in?”

She nodded and kissed me softly. “Yes, please.”

My ring finger joined the middle and I felt her body stretching to accommodate the width of both. I watched as her face scrunched with pain.

“Breath, deep breaths, it'll help ease the pain.”

She obeyed readily, and my manhood twitched. Would she always obey so well? If so, we were probably going to be doing this even more than previously assumed.

“Good girl. Taking me so well. ” I praised, my fingers pulling out and pushing back in. I added a bit more oil and kept the pace slow and steady, letting her body acclimate to the affection.

I had her there for all of two minutes before her body tensed and her walls clamped around me, my fingers suddenly became a lot wetter and stickier.

“Good girl,” I crooned again, “cum for me, just like that.”

Her hand was still lazily holding my cock and I watched as a thick pearl of precum dripped onto her lower lips. I pushed it in with a thumb.

“I need you, my darling wife.”

Her eyes focused on mine and she reached up for me. Grabbing at me and smiling dreamily. “Then have me.”

I did, lining up my cock and pulling her onto it inch by inch.

If I had thought his fingers stretched me then I hadn't felt anything yet. His cock was thick and filled me completely.

I felt my head fall back and I cried out, but the preparations from before made it not only bearable, but after a point, completely mind blowing.

His cock pressed all the places he'd been petting before.

Making my already tingling nerves shout at the new source of stimulation.

Sunk to the hilt he stopped and I whined reaching up to take his cheeks into my hands.

“I will give you time to adjust, don't worry.” He promised.

I felt myself grumble, grumpily.

“I don't need time to adjust.”

He looked down at me, confusion morphing into understanding, then amusement.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” I whined again.

“Is my princess in need. Does she want me to make the burning ache go away?”

I did. I very much did.

“Yes, I need my primarch to make me feel good.”

His mouth descended on mine and he kissed me hard, his cock pulling out of me before thrusting back in.

“Like that?” He teased.

“Exactly like that.” I panted under him.

He wrapped his arms around the oil from my skin brushing off onto his.

He kissed me, his hips working a steady rhythm.

His body was hot, like the bath water and it kept me warm in the big room. His cock was also hot inside me. I wanted more of this, more love, more touches, more everything.

He seemed to be feeling the same, his eyes were closed tight and I kissed the tip of his nose. He faltered in his pace and I laughed, as he smiled and returned the gesture.

Neither of us lasted very long that first round. I came hard on his cock and he gave me the first of many loads.

The room was quiet, except for our breathing.

I laid in Robute's arms, kissing him over and over.

“I think they were right.” I spoke, breaking the silence.

“Who was right about what?” He asked, puzzled.

“Your brothers. I think you will be a wonderful husband.”

He hugged me tighter and pressed her forehead to mine.

“I will try.”

A month passed on our journey back to Terra. I had awoken the past two days feeling ill. Roboute took me to the Apothecaries on the third day. Fearful I had contracted some ailment while aboard the ship.

We'd been active almost everyday for that month. Except the past three and I was feeling needy again.

The apothecary came rushing in from the lab looking at his father and I with a look of awe in his expression.

“What is it?” Roboute demanded. His son stared at the database and he grinned.

“Congratulations, father.” He motioned to me and I thought I began to comprehend.

“Our mother is with child.” He announced.

Before I could speak Roboute had me up in his arms. Kissing my cheeks and face, laughing and cheering.

“Please, my son. May I have the results. Send them to me.”

Later that night Roboute called his brother.

“Brother! How is married life?” Fulgrim asked delightedly and sipped his wine.

Roboute sent the results to his brother. And watched as the fuzzy green image spat out the mouthful of wine and coughed.

“I guess we have our answer now. Don't we? Good night brother.”

Roboute terminated the connection and went back, intent on celebrating with his wife.

[makeyoumine69]

LoveDrug

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!OC/Angel

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: "I just need a dose of the right stuff. I just need a hit of your love drug."

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, smut, unprotected p in v sex, body worship, manhandling, overstimulation, hurt/comfort (kinda), cumshot, a lot of flirting and teasing, Patrick is a horndog and very possessive, implied marking and stuff like that, dirty talk, pet names, domestic fluff that turned into porn with feelings (I couldn't help it).

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 2.7k

𝐀/𝐍: Hello everyone! This is my piece of writing for an art trade with amazing @mothhmannn! I was inspired by Lady Gaga's song "LoveDrug", hope you enjoy!

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [Masterlist], [AO3], [Wattpad].

After another unnecessary fight, Patrick had finally managed to convince Angel to leave his bathroom and give him a chance to prove that she was much more special to him than she ever thought. So now they stood together in the hallway, Bateman stroking her blonde hair, very gently—unusually gently—and he couldn't remember ever doing it like that. He had probably never been so tender in his life as he was now with Angel.

The young woman hugged him with both hands, breathing the warm air into his bare chest. "My mother used to say never believe handsome men, especially rich ones like you..."

Patrick remained speechless, just slowly rocked her from side to side and held her close. Oh, if only they could stay like this forever. If only there was not such a huge gap in social status between them. If only he could take her away from the world she thought she belonged to and bind her to him, never letting her go back. Such thoughts lived in his mind almost all the time, easily pushing aside all other ideas and plans that had seemed so important to him a long time ago. But not anymore.

"How about me cooking breakfast? If you want to try some of my cooking." Angel murmured as she looked up at him, her blue eyes glowing in the dim morning light.

"Breakfast?" Bateman asked, raising an eyebrow.

Thrilled, she glanced up at him again, those bright blue eyes still puffy from crying, and gave him the softest fucking smile he'd ever seen outside of romantic movies and daydreams. "Unless you have a Wall Street brunch to rush off to."

The man grinned back. "'Canceling it."

"You haven't even looked at your schedule." Angel remarked, chuckling and placing her palm against his toned torso.

"Don't need to." He said it so simply.

That made her laugh—short, uncertain, but genuine—and it stabbed him in the chest more than it probably should have. Then he pulled back a little to look at her more closely.

"You cook?" Bateman's hazel eyes examined her intently, as if he were seeing her for the first time.

Angel shrugged. "Sort of. Nothing fancy. Just stuff from home. Irish basics. Beacon, eggs, sausage... things you probably think are beneath you."

"Honey," he murmured, rubbing her shoulder to ease her tension. "You're fucking me in my apartment. Breakfast has zero chance of being beneath me."

The blonde blushed, and dear Lord, he loved it.

Blushing after all they'd done. After all the crying, the pleading, the trembling moans, the way her cunt had tightened around his fingers as if to keep him inside forever. She could still blush. Still make that embarrassed little face, as if she wasn't already spread open, leaking and used under his sheets.

Grinning to himself, Patrick leaned in and kissed her forehead—just once. Softly. Barely.

"All right," he crooned in a playful tone, barely stopping himself from pinching the tip of her nose. "Show me your eggs."

Angel beamed, and the sight punched him somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Carefully and with undeniable grace, she slipped out of his arms and padded across the floor, completely naked, not even bothering with his big white robe hanging near the bathroom door. Her ass bounced with every step, her thighs still red from his grip, and her pussy glistened faintly between her legs from all the mess he'd left inside her.

Fuck.

Unlike Angel, the man wrapped the sheet lazily around his waist, just to avoid scaring the neighbors in the next building, and followed her into his marble and steel kitchen like a domesticated dog trying not to rut on its own countertops. Focused as ever, the blonde woman pulled open drawers with the quietest of noises-almost as if she were tiptoeing through someone else's house.

"This is too modern," she muttered under her breath. "Where the hell are your pans?"

"Bottom cabinet to the left of the fridge." Bateman replied automatically, watching her flutter around his kitchen like the most beautiful butterfly.

But then she bent down and Patrick stood right behind her, watching her blushing slit peek out between her legs as she crouched, her folds still pink and sticky with dried cum. He adjusted himself under the sheet. Fuck, he was hard again.

Angel stood up triumphantly with the pan in her hand, as if she had passed some test. "Got it."

"About time," he muttered, stepping up behind her and pressing his groin against the small of her back, just to remind her where his mind was.

She rolled her eyes and almost pushed him aside. "Don't start."

"Too late." Bateman's hands were already traveling all around her slender body, the man planting several open-mouthed kisses along her neck before reluctantly releasing her.

With a soft chuckle, Angel walked over to the stove and turned it on, grabbing eggs from the refrigerator as she'd done here before. Whispering under her breath, she counted softly as she cracked them into the pan with practiced movements.

Meanwhile, Bateman leaned against the counter, watching her. She didn't move like the women he usually fucked. No performance. No exaggerated hip sway. Her posture was relaxed, her hair still tangled from sleep-sex, her skin glowing with the subtle sheen of afterglow, but there was nothing rehearsed about her. This wasn't any seduction. This was an escort girl—who had somehow managed to plant her roots so deep inside him—in his kitchen, cooking half-naked as the sun flirted through the windows.

"Why do I feel like I just passed a psychological test?" Angel asked over her shoulder, subtly enjoying the way Patrick was eating her alive with his dark eyes.

"Maybe you did." The man responded, leaning on his open hand.

Angel snorted, a cheeky grin never leaving her pretty face. "You're really annoying."

"You're really hot when you cook."

"Shut up."

Bateman moved up behind her again, this time sliding his hands around her bare waist, palms resting flat on her stomach as he leaned against her back. "You feel good," he murmured in her ear, her blond strands tickling his nose, but he didn't stop. "So good."

"I'm literally on fire trying to make eggs!" Angel mused back, her voice softening at the end.

"Hmmm. Still sweet."

Her hands dropped the spatula just long enough to brush his knuckles across her belly. "You're not going to dump me for another pretty girl?" She whispered almost softly. It wasn't quite framed as hope. Or suspicion— just matter of fact. "You promise?"

"I could have," he replied, kissing the edge of Ange's shoulder—she stiffened immediately. "I didn't."

The blonde said nothing, just flipped the eggs, let the pan sizzle, and exhaled. "All right," she stated in a slightly exhausted voice. "I'll try to believe you."

After a few minutes the eggs were done and the woman placed two plates of fresh food on the kitchen island and invited Patrick to take the bait and make them some coffee while she had to leave him for a while to get dressed because she was starting to freeze.

Soon Angel returned wearing his white shirt that still smelled of his cologne. "You don't mind if I wear this?" The woman asked, smelling the freshly brewed coffee in the air. "While I was getting dressed, I suddenly remembered that you used to call me...a sweetheart or a kitten when we stopped at Tiffany and Co. to buy me this pretty ring," the blonde pointed to the shiny gem that sat proudly on her index finger. "Is that what you call all your girls?"

"Kitten," he said finally, taking in the way her bare legs slowly crossed as she sat on one of the stools, one knee brushing the edge of the cabinet. "Definitely kitten."

"You haven't drunk your coffee," Angel noted worriedly, glancing down at his untouched mug. "Too distracted?"

All of a sudden, Patrick shifted slowly around the island, coming up directly behind her stool, his hips brushing the back of her neck through the cotton of his own shirt—her breath caught.

"Kitten," the man whispered in her ear, his voice low and rough, "you're wearing my shirt, cooking in my kitchen, and sitting half-naked after letting me break you open all night. Yeah, I'm fucking distracted."

The blonde shifted in her seat, he saw it—her thighs pressed together, trying to dull the pain between them. "Eat your eggs," the young woman added quietly, not turning around. "Don't be stubborn."

Parting her blonde locks with his chiseled nose, Patrick lowered himself to nibble at the slope of her delicate neck. “You sure that’s what you want me to eat?”

"Patrick..." Angel gasped, her pulse already quickening.

Bateman grinned, hands sliding around her from behind, fingers curling under the front of her shirt where it didn't even meet the tops of her thighs. Heat radiated between her legs—wetness still there, still oozing down the insides of her soft, creamy thighs.

"You liked it when I called you that," he declared—his tone confident, relentless even—and drew his nose up her neck, pushing her hair further aside. "Kitten, sweetheart, darling, doll... It doesn't matter what I call you, because you'd like whatever. Cause you're mine."

"Hmmm," she hummed, tugging half-heartedly at his wrist, but not enough to make him stop. "You've always been troublesome."

Patrick's fingers rubbed lazy circles along her thigh, moving higher and higher over the slick remnants still drying between her legs. "You still taste like me," he whispered, nipping at her earlobe. “You gonna pretend you don’t want me to fuck you again right here?”

Angel let out a small gasp and he felt her lean back into him, her body giving up before her words could stop it. "We can't do it on the kitchen island..."

Bateman tilted his head in amusement. "Why not?"

"It's marble, Patrick."

"So is the shower floor."

Angel choked back a laugh, pressing her hand to his forearm as his fingers slid between her thighs, gently parting her slick folds, teasing around the sore opening he'd split with his cock hours ago; her whole body trembled.

"You're insatiable..." She closed her eyes, gradually giving in to his touch.

"And you're fucking perfect." Bateman whispered back, biting softly at her shoulder through her shirt.

She whined helplessly as his fingers slid deeper, stroking that sore, needy spot inside her, her hips lifting slightly off the stool as if her body wanted more, even if her head hadn't said the words yet.

“Want me to bend you over the counter?” Patrick growled against her neck. "Rip my shirt off and fuck your sloppy little cunt until you forget we ever had a fight today?"

Angel shivered in his arms. "God, I hate how much I want that," she confessed, her legs already shaking, her eyes searching desperately for his walnut ones. "No cumming inside this time though," the woman added, her voice barely above a whisper, her head turned sideways so she could look at him with flushed cheeks and pleading eyes. "Patrick. I still need the pill..."

"Then be good," Bateman demanded in a raspy voice, his breath hot against her skin. "Don't make me lose control."

Angel whimpered, the same broken little moan he'd already memorized, and pushed her hips back against him—subtly, instinctively, as if her body didn't know any better. Next, the dark-haired man yanked the sheet down in one motion, his cock slapping against his abs, hard and angry, already leaking pre-cum. Rolling his lower lip between his white teeth, he wrapped one hand around its base, jerking once as he stared down at her pussy, the way her slit twitched every time she breathed; his other hand remained on her hip, holding her steady. She was so damn sensitive. The tip of his cock dragged along her folds, sliding through the mess there—his cum, her slickness, the natural aftermath of taking his dick like her cunt had never been used before. Angel gasped the second the wet head of his cock hit her clit, then cried out again as he pushed lower, aligning.

"I'll go slow," he growled, more to himself than to her. "If you behave."

The woman nodded, her forehead pressed against the cold countertop. "Okay..."

And then Bateman pushed in.

Tight again. Still fucking tight. The kind of tight that made his breath come out of his lungs in one searing exhalation, the kind that forced his eyes to close as every inch of his cock disappeared inside her. Her cunt squeezed as if it remembered him, remembered what it was made for now, remembered how to open wide around him even as it still stung from the fullness.

"Ohhh... fuck," she sobbed into the counter. "Still hurts..."

"I know," he breathed. "Shit–you feel so fucking good. Taking me like this... like your cunt knows it's mine."

Inflamed to the point of no return, Patrick bottomed out, hips pressing flush to her ass, and stayed there, letting her adjust, keeping himself still with every ounce of willpower he had; her pussy pulsed around him again, that fluttery squeeze that made his cock twitch deep inside her. And he leaned over her again, his chest against her back, his hands braced on the counter on either side of hers.

"I'll pull out, kitten," he murmured against her ear. "But you have to let me fuck you."

Angel wailed again and nodded quickly, her ass lifting into him just slightly—offering herself. Accepting it, so he started to move. Slow thrusts, deep and measured, his thick cock dragging in and out of that soaked pussy, stretching her all over again. Each time her cunt gave way around him, the pain faded behind gasps and moans, her body adjusting second by second to the way he filled her—and fucked her. Angel's hands clenched on the counter, knuckles white, breath fogging the surface. Patrick gripped her hips tighter and began to fuck harder.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

Wet sounds filled the kitchen—skin on skin, his cock slamming into her sloppy cunt, her juices dripping down her thighs, his balls swinging against her with each thrust. Angel cried out with each thrust, soft and breathless, repeating his name as if trying to ground herself. “Pat—Patrick—oh god—so deep—”

“Uh-huh. You’re taking it,” he growled, driving in harder. “You’re made for this…”

“Yes—yes I—oh fuck—”

Bateman reached around and rubbed her clit, fast and rough, pressing tight circles as his cock pounded her from behind. The blonde screamed again, her voice cracking as the pressure built under her skin like steam before a boil, her thighs shaking harder as her climax crept up again, her juices spilling out around his cock, making everything slicker, hotter, messier.

Patrick leaned down again, one hand wrapped around her throat, just holding—not squeezing—as her orgasm tore through her. "Cum for me," he insisted, tracing a wet line along her trembling throat. “Lemme feel you clenching around my dick.”

Angel's whole body shook.

Overwhelmed, she came with another loud gasp, her cunt clenching fiercely around his cock, milking it, sucking it deeper, her moans becoming desperate, whispered sobs of pleasure choked against her teeth as her body went limp beneath his. The man now held her up with both hands, gritting his teeth as he slammed through her spasms.

“Fuck—gonna fucking cum—” he growled, voice edged with desperation. “Shit—shit—where—fuck—”

Bateman pulled out just in time—hot streams of cum shot against her ass, dripping down the curve of her cheeks, splattering across her lower back and the base of the shirt. Frowning, he let out one long groan, body jerking, hand pumping his cock as the last few spurts painted her skin. Almost breathless, Angel was trembling—forehead on the counter, ass still raised, her used cunt still pulsing with aftershock. Patrick huffed hard above her, staring down at the mess he’d made, cock wet, hands shaking. Then he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder again, gently, like that made up for anything.

“Still want that morning-after pill?” he murmured into her ear.

She laughed breathlessly, head tilted to the side.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Patrick smirked. “Too bad. I might not pull out next time.”

P.S. I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Jump then Fall prt. 5

Thank you so much to @stabbythespaceroomba for cropping the Aeron picture. You're a real gem!

I took a lot of inspiration from a glorious Benji oneshot by @valdezthg Go read it if you haven't already. Their writing is amazing!

Description: Another knight takes an interest in Y/N, sparking Aeron's jealousy, and when a banquet descends into chaos Y/N is left wondering if Aeron's love for her was ever real.

Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 6

Warnings: Aeron being a lovesick dolt with idiotic tendencies. He's trying his best. Hurt/comfort, angst, female reader. I don't understand basic topography and refer to Stone Hedge as Bracken Hall, I just like it better.

There was a cold chill in the air and a thin layer of mist had settled over the Riverlands. Despite the cold of the Autumn morning, Aeron's heart warmed to see his lady love and favourite cousin settled on a balcony overlooking the training yard of Bracken Hall. She had come to see him despite the inhospitable weather conditions. To see Y/N laughing with his cousin filled him with happiness and pride in her, a sign of how well she would fit into his family as the future Lady Bracken. "Aren't you going to greet your lady? I am surprised you didn't bolt over the balcony railing as soon as you saw her. Alas, I see you're too busy standing like a dolt, staring at her." Aeron glared at Samwell before briskly walking to the base of the balcony and beaming up at Y/N. "Good morrow Y/N, dear cousin. I am most grateful for your attendance." He greeted them both. Y/N leaned over the balcony, shooting him a smile of pure sunlight that seemed to make the clouds break overhead. "Good morrow good knight. I hope you know we expect a good showing today."

Aeron grinned at her teasing "and a good show you shall have ladies." At the sweet sound of Y/N's laugh Aeron decided to take Samwell's advice for once in his life. Using intertwined vines and the railings of the balcony as leverage, he pulled himself up so that that could be at eye level with her, capturing hers lips with his several times before separating from her as he noted his cousin's light blush of embarrassment. He would hate to make his shy cousin uncomfortable and so jumped back down from the balcony onto his heels. With a final parting smile he turned back to the other knights who greeted him with playful jeers at his lovesick behaviour, though none were tinged by any malice.

Aeron's focus was drawn back to his fellow knights as they engaged in mock combat with one another. He was proud of his improvement in swordplay, though he'd never admit to Samwell or his Lord Uncle that Y/N had played a great part in his renewed dedication to the art. He wanted to do his duty as a knight of House Bracken, to Aegon the true king, and to protect his homeland. More important still to him was his desire for Y/N to see him as someone capable of protecting her. He tried not to glance in her direction too often for fear of accidentally impaling himself or his duelling partner in a moment of distraction. But no longer seeing her up on the balcony he whipped around to find her and his cousin in a corner of the training yard engaged in conversation with a knight he had not met before.

An uncomfortable feeling settled into the pit of his stomach as he watched the knight take both ladies' hands to place a gentle kiss upon them. Upon his love's hand, he bristled. He halted his movements and he was lucky that his opponent had the reflexes not to decapitate him. Aeron felt heat rise in his face, his chest tighten, and his jaw clenching as he watched Y/N laughing at something the knight had said, gifting him with an attentive smile which sent Aeron's thoughts spiralling.

He wanted to be the one making Y/N laugh, to be the only man she smiled upon. He wanted to curse the knight for daring to flirt with Y/N, for presuming to touch her but a deep sense of insecurity he had never fully addressed also threatened to consume him. What if Y/N should like this unknown knight to approach her. What if she preferred him to Aeron? Fists clenching as a wave of helplessness crashed over him, Aeron for better or worse succumbed to his anger with the knight. Storming over to stand next to Y/N, he took hold of her waist and glared at the knight whose expression dropped from his former joviality upon seeing Aeron's stony faced expression.

The anonymous knight spoke first. "Good morrow Ser Aeron. Allow me to introduce myself. Ser Renly at your service" with a respectful bow he continued "I must commend you on your swordplay today, your defeat of Ser Humphrey was most impressive." Aeron could not discern whether the knight was in earnest or seeking to antagonise him in a misplaced attempt to incur favour with Y/N. "I am indeed surprised you can comment on the fighting at all Ser, engaged as you are with entertaining my lady and cousin." His tone was laced with suspicion and Y/N shifted uncomfortably at the palpable tension crackling in the air. Ser Renly attempted to diffuse the tension with an awkward laugh. "I am glad to have made your introduction. But I have tarried too long and must attend to my own training." Aeron said nothing as Ser Renly gave a respectful bow to himself and each lady in turn before departing.

But upon looking down at Y/N's face he was immediately struck with an intense feeling of regret and concern for his lady. Her face had turned red, not with the blush he so loved to incite with his affections, but with unconcealed embarrassment, her arms wrapped around her stomach as if she wanted to shrink herself or dissapear entirely. Before he could open his mouth to stumble out apologies for his actions Y/N had grabbed his hand, practically dragging Aeron away from from the yard. She did not stop until they reached the treeline that separated Bracken Hall from the Brackenwood. Wordlessly dropping his hand, Y/N turned to look at him, a look of dissapointment in her eyes. "What was that?"

Aeron's jealousy and anger at the presumptuous knight had yet to subside completely, but he was aware that he acted in a way like to cause his lady shame, evident from the look of displeasure upon her pretty features. "I admit I acted in jealousy. I saw how that blaggard looked at you and I could not bear it to see you grant him your sweet smiles and laughter." Aeron fell down onto a tree stump in front of Y/N, his head falling into his hands, embarassed at his behaviour and prepared to accept any rebuke from his lady.

"And are you displeased with me?"

Aeron looked up in alarm and swiftly began pawing at her skirts, pulling her towards him until their knees knocked together. Placing his head on her abdomen and holding her in place by her hips, he mumbled into the fabric of her dress "Never. It is you who should be displeased with me." Aeron despaired that he had made Y/N believe herself to be the object of his ire, that he could ever be angry with her was beyond the realms of his imagination. "Y/N to me you are perfect. It is not your fault that others see that too. Today I behaved rashly in my jealousy and worse still, made you believe I could possibly be angry with you. I beg your forgiveness."

Y/N slowly brought her hands up to lightly caress Aeron's head. "I will gladly give it. I only ask that you trust in my love for you in future." Aeron looked up at her, a wave of relief crashing over him at her willingness to forgive him so quickly, and he thanked the gods for gifting him with the love of such a gentle and merciful lady. "I swear to you that I will comport myself in a manner becoming of a knight and one deserving of your love for as long as you will have me." A slight frown ghosted over Y/N's features and Aeron quickly tried to ascertain what in his words might have offended or upset her. He watched various emotions flicker in her eyes before her expression settled into one of resolve, he knew not what for.

He stopped breathing momentarily, frozen in place, when she lowered herself to perch on his knee, immediately capturing his gaze with hers. She seemed to measure the weight of her words carefully. "You do not need to persuade me to love you. I have already given you my heart fully and it hurts me for you to act as if that were not the case. As if I did nor love you in equal measure." Aeron had not considered that his own insecurities, his difficulty believing someone as precious as Y/N could return his love, could be hurting her. Even now her cheeks were dusted with a pink blush at the boldness of her actions, and he could not but admire her bravery, as she put aside her own shyness and embarrassment in order to reassure him.

He would not make the same mistake again. He brought his hands, still latched onto Y/N's skirts up to her waist to hold her and keep her from falling, lowering his head to slowly brush his lips against her forehead, then her cheeks, and the tip of her nose. "I am ashamed to have given you pain on account of my own insecurities. You are my love, the other half of my heart." With that he lowered his eyes to her lips before looking into her eyes, silently asking for her permission. When Y/N glanced at his own lips he gladly brought their lips together, pulling her closer towards him with one hand on the small of her back. As Y/N's arms wrapped around Aeron's neck he determined that he should be as brave as his Lady in expressing his love for her, and be confident in offering her his affection however she would allow.

Breaking the kiss, Y/N leaned her head against Aeron's shoulder, an affectionate gesture that always had his heart stumbling, an assurance that she felt safe with him and looked to him for comfort. "I believe your cousin may have a secret lover you know" Y/N half whispered conspiratorially. Aeron blanched at that. Is that why his dearest cousin had been sneaking off so much of late? "What makes you think that?"

"She seemed terribly distracted the whole morning as if deep in thought and blushed when I asked her the cause of her wandering thoughts" Y/N smiled. "I am pleased for her, are you not?"

Aeron grimaced slightly. "In truth I am concerned for my cousin. I should be glad to see her make a match that pleases her. But she is my favourite cousin and I doubt anyone would be good enough for her. But as long as it is not that bastard Benjicot Blackwood then I suppose I have little to worry about" He joked, hoping to reassure her that he shared in her joy for his cousin.

Just before Aeron turned in to his Chambers that night Lord Bracken informed him that he was to hold a banquet within the week for honoured guests. Aeron assumed the aforementioned guests would be squires of The Greens, that this banquet would serve to strengthen their bond with House Targaryen as his Uncle swearing to King Aegon had. Aeron believed in the sanctity of Aegon's cause, appalled by the kinslaying of the Blacks, declaring himself to his uncle as most in favour of this banquet. Though he could not deny that his mind did wander to what gown Y/N might wear, how she might style her hair, and if they would dance together.

On the evening of his Lord Uncle's banquet, Aeron found himself positioned at the door to the Great Hall, welcoming guests to his ancestral seat. His mind had begun to wander as he routinely uttered the standard greetings required of him until he spotted Y/N walking towards him with her parents. Stunned by her ethereal beauty, her lilac dress embroidered with the symbol of his House. He had a hard task schooling his expression in order to formally greet her parents. He wished for their two Houses to be joined in marriage one day and was eager to express his respect for his love's family. Y/N smiled shyly at him from behind her parents, which he happily returned as he welcomed her parents. As she passed by him he secretively brushed his fingers against hers, promising himself that he would let her know how beautiful she looked as soon as he could get a moment alone with her.

As the last few guests filtered into the room, Aeron took his place by his uncle at the head table. He paid little attention to his welcoming speech, eyes focused on Y/N sat several tables away from him, trying to draw her gaze to his. After a while her eyes met his and he smiled back at her, having no intention of averting his eyes despite being caught staring. He wanted her to know how difficult it was for him to tear his gaze away from her, and he enjoyed her light blush in response.

Aeron and Y/N continued to shoot glances at each other throughout the banquet, agitated by the distance that separated them he couldn't help fidgeting in his seat and bobbing his knee up and down constantly as he waited for his uncle to announce when the dancing could begin. He was fully prepared to take the distance at a run and sweep Y/N into his arms for as many dances as she would allow before Ser Renly or another knight had the same idea.

When his uncle finally clapped his hands to command the attention of the room and invite his guests to dance, Aeron shot up before the minstrels had even begun to play. Unfortunately his idiot cousin Edmund had been closer and beat him to it, pulling a reluctant looking Y/N to the dance floor as he watched on. He made a mental note to thrash Edmund later, he did not think his Uncle or Edmund's father would care all that much if he broke his nose.

He watched his lady's face carefully for any sign of discomfort, noting that Edmund seemed to be doing most of the talking. Borish brute. It was only when he saw Y/N's face fall and her eyebrows furrow that he decided to step in and rescue his lady, crossing the distance in a few paces.

"Mind if I cut in cousin?" The question would have seemed amicable enough to an onlooker but Aeron made sure to give Edmund a look that assured him of dire consequences should he argue. Shrugging carelessly he released Y/N, Aeron waisting no time in wrapping his arm around her waist and taking her smaller hand in his. "Of course, Y/N I hope you will consider what I've said." Before Aeron could ask what he meant by that Edmund had stalked away. Turning to Y/N and placing her hand on his shoulder he began to lead them in the steps of the dance. He was relieved to finally be able to hold Y/N in his arms as he had wished to all evening but Edmund's comment had rattled him.

"May I enquire as to what Edmund was referring to Y/N? I hope he did not bother you or behave poorly. I will rearrange his pompous features for you if you like." Y/N snorted in amusement, though he hadn't really been joking, and pressed his shoulder affectionately. "Worry not, I can handle a fool like Edmund. He just likes to meddle. Give it no more thought." Aeron disliked not knowing what had caused the look of distress on his lady's face, but forced himself not to press her if she did not want to reveal it to him. Instead, he made good on his promise to himself from earlier that evening.

"You must allow me to tell you how beautiful you look, I have been driven to distraction all evening because of it. You shine more brightly than any star my love." Y/N beamed up at him and discretly brushed her hand against his cheek before returning it back to his shoulder. "Thank you my handsome knight, and for my part I apologise for distracting you." Aeron laughed heartily at that before placing her hand closer to his heart and leaning down to whisper in her ear "I would gladly be distracted by you for the rest of my days, I can think of no better sight to gaze upon than my lady love." Suddenly twirling her away from his body as the dance required, he raised their arms as she placed a hand on his waist and they spun slowly in the spot. Impervious to everything else around them, they gazed lovingly into one another's eyes.

Aeron had hoped to dance with Y/N again but as the final note of the music rang out he spotted his uncle beckoning him over to the head table at the other end of the hall.

Grabbing both of Y/N's hands he placed a kiss upon her knuckles and reluctantly walked away from her to take his place beside his uncle, who was preoccupied with arresting his guest's attention oncemore. Aeron could not have known that his Uncle's next words would dismantle all of the happiness he had felt that evening, having finally been able to dance with Y/N instead of watch her longingly from a distance. "Revered guests, I have an announcement to make which will bring good tidings to House Bracken and to all those who support the true king Aegon Targaryen. Lord Tully has consented to marry his eldest daughter Roslyn to my nephew Aeron. In so doing we will bind our houses with blood and forge a bond strong enough to finally oust the treacherous Blackwoods who support their false queen. I welcome Lord Tully and Lady Roslyn to our festivities."

Aeron's head turned so sharply in the direction Lord Bracken waved his hand so as to almost give himself whiplash. And there on the other end of the high table, where they had not been before, sat Lord Tully and his daughter. She at least looked just as put out by his uncle's announcement as he surely did. Her face tight with anger she barely repressed.

Time seemed to have frozen in this moment of horror as Aeron frantically looked over at Y/N to see her reaction, and try to tell her with his eyes what he could not across a room of watching spectators. That he was hers alone, that he had no intention of marrying the Tully girl. That it had always been his greatest wish to marry her if she would consent to be his wife. Pain tore through his chest as her expression crumpled and he could see tears beginning to well up in her eyes, before she quickly turned and fled from the room, from him.

Bless the pretty wee Bracken. God love him but he's an eejit and he has a lot of explaining to do to Y/N. Angst incoming.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @alexandracgg

[skittypop27]

Hello dear! Can i make a request? i loved the one you write with that reblog some time ago.

I was thinking about something sweeter this time, or bittersweet, not plainly sad. Maybe Azriel thinking about Eris, or their thoughts after a night together.

Thank you, mwah

My Muse!!!! Thank you for giving me inspiration to write about these love sick fools. Please enjoy! Hope I was able to give what you were looking for ❤️

Tags: Azriel/Eris, suggestive language, sappy fluffy stuff, secret relationship, mutual pining, literally "I won't say I'm in love" ft. Azris

548 words

-

In the moment, it always seems like such a lovely idea. It starts with stolen glances across the room, eyes that first turn away once noticed, but gradually becoming more ensnared as they meet again and again. They dance around each other's orbit, metaphorically or literally, depending on the event. The collision is always imminent. Unavoidable.

Polite conversation, hands placed cordially. Eventually they'll slip. A string of words too nuanced to be mistaken for chatter between acquaintances. A hand lingering too long or scarred fingers brushing against a cheek where they used to strike instead all those years ago.

They'd excuse themselves. Separately, of course, as not to draw attention. Meet in the halls of some secluded manor, escape to a meeting room or bedroom or closet like a young fae couple who cannot keep their hands off of one another. Their first touches are desperate, as if they haven't collided before. Like this was the first shaking crash of two stars meeting. It wasn't. They lost count.

The heat was the most comforting burn Azriel ever experienced, and he'd gladly take up the brands Eris’ fingertips tried to sear into his skin. The only fire he'd ever welcomed. The only flame he called his hearth.

There was devotion in every press of lips. Longing in every roll against one another. Something deeper that blossomed and lingered in the moments after. Something that bid him stay just once. Something that told him to ask Eris to stay just once.

He never did.

They saw it in each other's eyes. Undeniable. Unavoidable. They still tried to avoid it.

Two fae burdened by their past, unsure how to heal but wanting to. By the Cauldron, they wanted to.

Instead they continued their dances, moving around each other, waiting for opportune moments. Waiting for events that forced them together, gave them an excuse.

It was one such night. The Autumn Equinox upon them. The High Lord of Autumn celebrating his first decade on the throne. Their orbit was long that crisp evening. Circling, circling, getting close but never making contact. It was not until the moon was well across the sky that the High Lord excused himself, moments later followed by an unseen shadow.

There were no burns that evening. There was no closet nor table. There was no grasping or demands or desperation. They simply were… gentle. Pressed one another into the silken sheets of the High Lord's bed. A low fire stoked but never blazing, providing comfort but not sweltering heat. They shared each other, embers sparking again whenever they thought it fizzled out. There was no name they wanted to acknowledge that would explain it. They had no real desire to stop, feeling that once they did the hearth would grow cold.

Eventually though, exhaustion overtook them.

Azriel staring down, braced above Eris. They were panting softly, eye contact unbreaking. Azriel couldn't stop kissing him, couldn't stop touching him, couldn't stop chasing the warmth. He never felt so cold. Something lingered between them, vile and heavy in his stomach as he realized he needed to pull away. Needed to leave as was routine. As was ingrained in everything they've ever been. As he felt the embers twinkling out.

“Stay.” Eris whispered.

Azriel felt that hearth inside him blaze.

[k-s-morgan]

TGSTLTH related

Ok so I decided to do it here cuz I don't know will AO3 allow me to write essay hahahahah 😂😂😂

I don't even know how to start this. I've been reading fics for 13 years straight, like I don't remember the period of my life where I didn't read them cuz I always have some ship active and I'm crazy BL fan. Only a small number of them can make me crazy to the point I don't wanna sleep, eat, skipping my obligations, killing the pain and your sebaciel did everything. I haven't felt like this reading fic..,maybe ever? This is totally another level of me being fascinated by some writer.

I adore sebaciel, I'm in fandom since 2016 but the biggest problem I had with their fics is that - either people go too much OOC with them orr they rush up the things between them, going quickly with sex and feelings. It bothered me so much so I was crawling for good SC fics as crazy!!

After some break with SC, I came back to ao3 and saw your long fic. I started reading it but I dropped it after 3 chapters, I got bored cuz I thought you are gonna just re-type manga and do classic thing which another people do. Quickly, I got disappointed with another one and idk how but I decided to give your fic one more chance and dear lord......that was one of the best thing I have ever read. Maybe even the best.

Like, how smart are you? What's your IQ? Your manage to explain me some things about Kuro plot which I haven't udnerstand by myself. And the way you write Sebaciel relationship. That's everything I have ever wanted. Everything. They have normal conversation and that's it, that's all I need cuz there is everything. I feel electric every time when they talk, fight, do things together, goood the little touches svbjhsdjvbvbvbvbvbsdjvhbdf. I was tense whole fic. I read it for like 10 days, abandon everything until I finished it and now I feel sad ahahhaahha. But you are really something special, cuz I always used to say that manga itself is the best fiction cuz Yana knows the best how to create good Sebaciel energy. You, next to Yana, did the best job. You kept them as they are, never broke the character, and that's what I am most grateful. Slow burn, with drama and angst, love and attention, all misunderstanding, you put all necessary spices for 5 star meal. My fav part is when Ciel told Sebastian to add slamming doors to his most dramatic moments of his life ahahahahahahhaha 😂😂 I laughed like crazy, they are so precious♥ And I really wanted kiss to happen when Ciel lied Sebastian about another demon, that was sooo svbjhsvjhjhvbdf. But okay, you know the best, I trust you fully with this♥

The fact that they are ready to kill each other before they have normal conversation about their feeling is my fetish. I am in love with toxic things. Ciel ready to throw all game just to prove Sebastian that his value is not only his soul, right after he told himself for 1000 times he needs to stay on distance..... I LOVE ITTTT!!! I also need to say that you find PERFECT balance for good plot and romance. Your games and their cases...I just don't know, deep bow for you queen🔥💯After all, you didn't retype drama ahahaha but you manage to keep it canon without changing anything but still adding your spices so it's not ordinary Kuro plot we see every day....

I just have one question. From time to time, I was like a Bard ahahhaha, so sick of their games and my head hurting me, but on a good way. I am clear about Ciel but what about Sebastian and his disgust for Ciel's nicer, soft, emotional side? I know Ciel doesn't have it a lot, but would Sebastian still be grossed out about it as he was at the beginning of a contract or not? Keeping in mind that he is more and more obsessed with a boy?

So, that's all. I don't know how to use Patreon/PayPal, but for you I'll try cuz I only have credit card and that's all I know ahhahaha, I like to keep money in my hands😂 I'm sad about the situation in your country and all under - war countries. It's not bringing any good for anyone, specially for civilians. I hope you are okay and I wish you alll the best, the good karma must hit you really quickly cuz you made one person really, really happy here♥

Looking forward how will you finish this story, have a nice day❤

PS - this is the longest comment for fic I have ever left ahhaha, it's crazy how you got me sooo hyped up bjcvsdghvbds.

Hi! Ooh, thank you so much for your amazing, wonderful essay! I can't tell you how happy it made me! I think the electricity was already started being cut off when I got it, so I could see I have some really lengthy ask, but it wouldn't load. It was the torture of the most delicious kind :D

Like you, I've been reading fics for ages now, and the moments where I find some fantastic story that won't let me sleep or work or even blink are always the happiest and the brightest spots I remember. So it's extremely flattering to know that my story has become something similar to other people.

I love writing about smart characters, but most of them are definitely smarter than me! The benefit is that since I'm writing, I can think and plan everything in advance. In real life, I only wish I were as quick-witted and inventive. Alas, the best ideas and arguments come to me when they are no longer needed.

I love slow burns, and I love characters who abhor the idea of expressing their feelings, so Ciel and Sebastian have the most perfect dynamic in my eyes. I feel like I could spend the eternity just enjoying their Gothic world with their games, arguments, plots, and so on. Them antagonizing each other only to instantly team up against the common enemy is my most favorite thing in the world.

As for your question, right now, Sebastian would be thrilled if Ciel were to show a softer and more vulnerable side - at least in relation to him. Well, a part of him would feel the automatic need to mock him for it anyway, some habits don't die easily, but Sebastian's feelings have evolved a lot, plus Ciel is cold more often than he is not. So Sebastian treasures every word of praise, every hint of appreciation and need because they are so rare - he's come to crave them, and he has memorized all known cases of them by heart.

And no worries about supporting me! I really appreciate you taking your time to leave such a fantastic review, it made my day!

[aiyanakopa]

hi! for the art asks:

2) 5 favourites of your own work?

21) Weirdest thing you've ever drawn?

and for the fun of it: 25)Based on your recent reference searches, what would the FBI assume about you?

thank you! 😊

thank you for sending these! 💕

2. 5 favourites of your own work?

they always change tbh! but right now I'll go with these:

specifically this sketch of hange and nifa from my hange squad post

mildly spicy levihan

veteran trio riding their horsies

my first levihan sketch page (which is looking a little rough now but I hadn't had so much fun drawing in ages so it's very dear to me)

and to break up the aot brainrot a bit, daisuga with the karasuno first years

there's also a bunch I really like that I haven't actually posted yet 👀

21. weirdest thing you've ever drawn?

oh I've got plenty of weird stuff hiding in the deep recesses of my old hard drives, but mostly just in the sense that I drew it when I was 12 and now I find it cringe 💀 the most fun one though is a ponysona of robin lord taylor (the actor) that I drew as a gift for a friend from DA who really liked him (and from memory I think they ended up getting a plushie made based on it?)

25. based on your recent reference searches, what would the FBI assume about you?

I wish I had actual examples but my browser likes to clear my history after a while and I've been BUSY 😭 based on the references I had to search for my last post they'd probably assume I'm having a kid or that I'm getting into gardening

also it's very fun to look at my search history on my ipad specifically bc I only use it for art, so it ends up being like. 20 searches in a row of the same fucking 3 anime characters (I'm sure you can guess which ones) and looking at that you might also think I'm a little unhinged

[brucewaynehater101]

HELLO LOVE <3333 kissing all ur posts on the head I'm loving loving the things u do on here !!! WOAHS !!! LIKE U ARE SO CREATIVE AND COOL bringing u silly flowers !!! Getting u a silly bouquet bouquet

:0 actually, I also wanted to hear what make you like Tim !!! What specifically makes him tick for you, what nuances you'd like people to understand about him and his story etc etc !!! I love hearing ppls interpretations (esp since I... myself am not particularly fond of him ;-; but !!!! I do do want to understand what makes people love him) so if you wouldn't mind :D that'd be swell to hear !!!! THANK U DEAR

You're so sweet, my lords. Thank you ^^ I appreciate the bouquet 💐

Also, I completely understand why some people don't like Tim. His 90's era chaotic self is fantastic, but also a bit misogynistic. DC also likes to throw him in every comic that has a Robin in it and try to smother him back into that role. I haven't seen this happening, but I've also heard that Tim fans can be assholes.

So yes. I 100% understand why some folk aren't the hugest fans.

Tim, for me, though, is so dear. Few reasons why:

His story is so fucking sad, my lords

His attitude is hilarious

He's badass and chaotic

He reminds me too much of my younger self

All the Bats are tragic. Ain't a single one who isn't. I typically like BAMF tragic characters.

Tim's story as Robin is fucking devastating. Hit after hit after hit he takes. Yet, he keeps going. I would not have survived what he did.

All the other batkids have sad stories, hilarious wit, are badass, and cause chaos. They share those wonderful qualities with Tim.

I also just really love how Tim's relationship with Bruce is different during his initial years as Robin (with only Steph and Duke being comparable). He wasn't Bruce's kid first. Tim didn't want nor need a parent. He also felt like he had to help Bruce (when a kid shouldn't be taking care of adults. Parentification sucks ass).

Tim became Robin for Bruce. The other Robins became Robin for themselves (which isn't bad! It's actually really rad how Robin helped them [and cursed them but whatever]).

Just... Tim didn't want to be Robin initially, and that strikes a chord. Then there's him working his ass off for that mantle. He's a little shit, but he's Tim.

There's also how YJ is treated by the other heroes.

There's Tim living in Jason and Dick's shadow.

It's the likeness to my younger self that really hits home.

If you don't want any personal details, the bottom line is that a lot of his history/characterization hits home.

Now... Tim is dear to me due to how much he resembles my younger self. I love Jason as well due to him representing more of my older self. However, Tim's thought processes are closer to mine. I also tend not to get angry often.

For history, my parents consistently chose work and alcohol over family. I had to take care of them. I often played mediator, family clown, or scapegoat (which is why I also relate to Jason [I go feral at those horrendous lines Bruce says to him. Have your parents ever stated regret for how they raised you? Have they ever hurt you and demanded you thank them? Fucking hell, Jason. I may not have died, but your relationship with Bruce is killing me]). I was considered "gifted" or smart in comparison to my siblings, despite them being extremely intelligent (they were in honor classes as well). I'm the middle kid, but I emotionally took care of my younger sibling after I turned fifteen (even though we used to get into horrendous fights).

Anyways, Tim has a pathetic mess of a background, but he's badass as well. He's self-sufficient because he had to be, and he's good at it.

I like smart characters that outwit their opponent. I like seeing Tim win.

[thethirdromana]

Dracula's roommates, in gifs

All gifs by talented tumblr gif-makers, commentary by me. I haven't seen most of the films so all commentary is on vibes alone.

Dracula (1931)

Full marks for spookiness, and here we have a book-accurate two brunettes and a blonde. I'm impressed by the amount of fabric that these ladies are collectively wearing, especially given that the front hem of their dresses is longer than floor-length. I wonder how many takes they had where they just tripped up and faceplanted the spooky stone floor?

Brides of Dracula (1960)

There are only two brides in this, as part of the plot is the acquisition of a third bride. The main vibe these two give me are of a sleepover just as the edibles are kicking in. They seem very friendly. Might get the munchies later though.

Dracula (1968)

It's hard to tell from the gif, but this is what Wikipedia claims to be the only version where one of the brides of Dracula is black (on the left, played by Nina Baden-Semper). I'm surprised more adaptations don't do this, given the physical description we get only requires that two are dark and one fair. Sadly they don't get any dialogue in this, just some expressive hand-movements.

Count Dracula (1977)

Dear lord, could this be more 70s?? The hair, the dresses, the makeup, even what I assume is a cod-medieval tapestry could only be from one decade. I don't much like the kind of brattish submissiveness happening in this gif (ymmv, of course). But apparently one of them is French, which is fun.

Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992)

Interesting how much more active the brides become as the years go on. I mean, the lip-licking is right there in the text, but this feels very full on compared with the coquettish earlier brides. They do look fabulous though - so fabulous that all other brides follow the same model from this point onwards.

Dracula 2000 (2000, unsurprisingly)

A modern-day Dracula provides us with some modern-day brides, though in essence they're much the same as the 1992 ones. I have never seen anyone on Tumblr ever mention this film, which makes me suspect that it's atrocious.

Van Helsing (2004)

Dracula starts off with three brides in Van Helsing but if I remember correctly, they don't appear on screen at the same time (if they do, I couldn't find a gif of it). I kind of wish they'd gone for the period-ish costumes of the ballroom scene for the brides, but instead we get 1992 again, in both costume and general red-lipped vampishness.

[hooked-on-elvis]

I-AM-LITERALLY-IN-TEARS

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ OR HEARD A THING ABOUT LISA'S BOOK YET, DON'T READ THIS POST IF YOU'RE NOT UP FOR SOME SPOILERS. ALSO, SENSITIVE CONTENT (MINOR AB***). DO NOT READ WATCH THE VIDEO OR READ THIS IF YOU'RE NOT MENTALLY HEALTHY ENOUGH TO. TAKE CARE. ♥

Hey, I am hearing and reading some things from Lisa's book. I don't have the full picture, but I'm so bothered at the things I'm listening from people who read the book that I need to put it out. Those are just MY THOUGHTS. I'm not saying Priscilla felt this or that, I'm trying to understand the whole situation. I thought about if I should publish this or not, but I just had to put it out... this is killing me. We all feel so protective of Elvis and Lisa... Hearing about something like this happening is just a nightmare.

Now, somebody tell me, for the sake of God, how can someone know something like that is happening to their child and do nothing? Tell the guy to apologize? Seriously?! Priscilla was in a power position now. She could have thrown that fucking bastard in jail in a blink of an eye. WHY NOT TO DO IT THEN?

My God! If Elvis was alive back then and even imagined something like this was happening to his baby girl he would probably kill every damn person in the way until he got to Edwards - and that would be not only threat anymore, E would've killed him barehanded. LORD! I'm so sorry, so sorry for dear Lisa not having her dad there to protect her.

I'm trying to figure out what was in Priscilla's mind. Okay, Lisa was not an easy individual like most kids/teenagers aren't. I know I wasn't! But let a "step-dad" spank your child? Let him throw a tantrum at your young girl like he had any right to? Let him yell at her? I mean, this is firstly and foremost about what a fucking monster that Edwards guy is! That guy is disgusting, a fucking sicko! "That's how they do in Europe"???!!! Oh my God, I don't even have the words to put out how I feel right now.

Really, let's not talk about Elvis as if he was a savior tho. He should've taken better care of himself because he had a daughter to take care but let's not forget he was an addict (and also was physically ill, not only mentally). He was lost and needed help, but never found the kind of help he needed. He can't be blamed for dying because at the same time his mind probably would never imagine someone would have the guts to approach his child that sick disturbed way. I thought about the kind of thinking Elvis must've had when he near death... and he probably felt Lisa was safe with her mom.

But Priscilla? She was in a good state of mind, good enough to be a mom and protect her child, at least. Okay, a single mom, a young and beautiful woman who was thinking about her career and "recovering" from the "lost youth" being just someone's girlfriend/wife... but then, completely make your child feel like she wasn't wanted? Tell you teenager girl "who do you think you are?" Because those are the words Lisa used. I mean. MAN! If Elvis ever done a mistake is his life was bringing Priscilla from Germany. Lisa is no mistake - as a strong woman she made herself to be, a woman I highly admire, a loving mom, a bold artist - but she was just broken since an early age. And it's not exclusively because Elvis died, it's also because of the divorce before that and the tabloids harassment.

Priscilla always looked proud while saying how she was the strict parent and Elvis was the permissive one... Look at what the cold treatment she gave Lisa did to her! Had this young girl seen more love and tenderness, she maybe wouldn't have to endure such a hard life.

Now, there's many, many, many layers to this discussion.

Was Priscilla also traumatized with her childhood? Did she felt impotent as a parent, and with no one to turn to because every step she took could end up in the tabloids? (It did anyway) How can we begin to try to understand her cold and distant attitude towards her first child? Did she had some kind of postpartum depression that made her resent her daughter? I don't know. Maybe Priscilla severely needed help. Listening to little somethings from Lisa's memoir book I kinda have the same feeling I did when I read Priscilla's memoir. That she was bitter about Elvis, that she didn't forgave him for not being a good husband, that she was resentful of him, very very hurt... and somehow she threw that on Lisa, partially. Lisa says Priscilla treated her second child much better than her. That says something, doesn't it?

Like I said the other day, I can understand Priscilla in some levels... I'm a woman too, I can try to wear her shoes. But that thing about Michael Edwards just crushed me. Still I'm trying to understand.

Priscilla seems to have been frustrated with the life she figured she would have being Elvis' wife and having Elvis' kid, and when things turned out not as easy and dreamy as expected (and I don't blame her for picturing a life with the King as a fairy tale... anyone would imagine a life with the most handsome and famous rock star on earth and having his child would be so perfect!), when she saw things were not that dreamy Priscilla felt so frustrated that she just decided to let her heart go completely cold, you know?

It makes sense in my mind. Think about it... She just divorces Elvis and goes dating another guy without even caring for how he would look - concerning the damage that would make to his public image specially - and then letting horrible things happen to his (their) daughter as if "you're troubled, you shouldn't even have been born... just leave me alone" kind of vibes.

Again, those are just MY THOUGHTS. I'm not saying Priscilla felt this or that.

To be fair, we're talking about a Priscilla from over 40 years ago, not Priscilla today. People make mistakes because they're not in a good state of mind and then they get better and change. People are not just one thing or another, we are not just black or white... we come in shades of grey. Many different shades. Lisa also says in her book that she was able to find common ground with her mom later in their lives, that at some point she was able to connect with her better, specially after Lisa had her children, Priscilla's grandchildren. Apparently Priscilla was/is a great grandmother so we can imagine Lisa forgave her.

One thing is certain... We can't speak for other people, but it's strange the kind of decisions Priscilla made. Oh my... this book is causing a big damage to Priscilla's public image alright. If Elvis fans didn't like her, now much lesser.

Discussion is open, let's just try to be gentle and reasonable.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Do you have any recommendations on Dr. Who books/audio format things? I haven't watched the show in a bit because Moffat wasn't my thing and I can't seem to find the old stuff. (If you have any advice on where to find that too I would be very grateful) Following your blog has been a nice reminder of why I liked the show so much. Hope you have a good day!

Aw thank you! Depending on your location, you can find classic who episodes either on BBC iPlayer or Tubi (with ads).

As for books/audios, I'll try to keep this brief as I could write an essay on this.

For books, my favorite author is Kate Orman. Orman writes wonderfully, and my personal favorite is The Year of the Intelligent Tigers. I also really liked Goth Opera, Camera Obscure, History 101, Autumn Mist, Lungbarrow, Divided Loyalties, Somewhere Never etc etc etc etc (so many more but I'm forcing myself to stop here). You can often find free versions of basically every novel (at least all I've looked for) on the internet either as pdfs or epubs or whatever. The Internet Archive is particularly useful. Some examples:

And now for the audios! I personally have sold my soul to Big Finish. I have literally hundreds of recommendations. They do have some audios for free, such as those that came from the Paul Spragg Memorial Competition. You can also find a lot of them (up until Zagreus I think) for free on Spotify. There is also almost always a killer sale going on on the website on top of that too.

As for my recommendations, it's pretty dependent on what Doctor or companion you want to listen to. They even have series centered on UNIT, Romana's Gallifrey, Benny Summerfield, and a ton of other things (including a Masterful special that just had a bunch of Masters fucking around and finding out). I'll put in some of my favorites, one for each Doctor, from what I own (which is far from everything, but I do my best).

One: The Sontarans. It was the first time the Doctor had ever encountered the Sontarans, so he was unfamiliar with them. It takes place during Dalek Master Plan, so Steven and Sara are there.

Two: Lords of the Red Planet! It's a good Ice Warrior origin story and has Jamie and Zoe in it. :)

Three: Terror of the Master. I had pre-ordered it as soon as I heard about it. Three....Delgado Master....what more do you want from an audio? It's narrated by Jon Culshaw.

Four: The Wrath of the Iceni. It was a brilliant historical with Four and Leela and Boudica. Leela gets quite a lesson in this one, first being mad at Four for not helping Boudica and then at Boudica for being cruel.

Okay now we are getting into my favorite Doctors (5-8), so these decisions are going to get difficult.

Five: The Kingmaker! Shakespeare spikes Five's drink to get him absolutely wasted to sneak on the TARDIS, the TARDIS gets hiccups as a result, leading to Peri and Erimem being separated from the Doctor. Shenanigans ensue.

Six: Doctor Who and the Pirates. Six and Evelyn have a really meaningful discussion with one of her depressed students. The third part is a musical!

Seven: The Shadow of the Scourge. Benny Ace and Seven against 8th dimensional eldritch abominations. Seven gets turned into one of these insectoids, and body horror ensues.

Eight: Oh dear I can't choose. At the moment, probably the Great War from Dark Eyes 1. Eight meets Molly and is still grieving here. He is very much doomed by the narrative.

War: The Neverwhen. Lots of the War Doctor is good if you like Time War horror, but this one has a lot of time-as-a-weapon and is well written.

Nine: Battle Scars. A nice short story about that one family Nine saved from the Titanic mentioned in the episode Rose. Has a really fantastic girl in it and a Nine dripping in PTSD.

Ten: The Time Reaver. Ten and Donna! There's this gun that basically slows down time for a single person, so that a few minutes for everyone else is centuries for them. Ten is a self sacrificing dope.

Eleven: The Geronimo boxset is the best in my opinion, but I haven't been able to listen to many of these yet.

Twelve: Another one I haven't managed to buy a lot of yet, but Dead Media is amazing. It's written to sound like a podcast with adverts and everything and is set during his time at St. Luke's. And I cried at the end.

Anyway, I'll shut up now. This was so much fun! Thank you!